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fanfoolishness · 3 years

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the naming of things

Din Djarin names the wounds earned in The Prisoner, and reflects on the hunter becoming the hunted. ~1700 words, Din & Grogu, hints of Din's life before he met the kid, a bit of whump and a bit of hope. Takes place at the end of Chapter 6.

Hyperspace stretched around them, the promise of freedom streaming beyond them in blue-white light. The glimmers played over his visor as a sigh, long and weary, stole from his mouth. He sagged against his seat, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at the wide-eyed child watching him.

“I told you that was a bad idea,” he muttered, more to himself than the kid. He swallowed. It’d been damn close for both of them.

Reflexively he reached out, unscrewing the little control knob from its lever. He reached back and dropped the ball into the kid’s waiting hand. It was the least he could do to make up for the droid menacing the kid, Mayfeld dropping him on the floor, their taunts... Not to mention the way Din had pretended the kid was just a pet, and nothing more.

...He’d done it to take the heat off the kid, of course.

Still felt lousy about it, though.

A bad idea.

The words echoed as a refrain, a hum that fell away into the whirs and vibrations of the Razor Crest around them. Din winced. He’d known better. Or should have, anyway. He closed his eyes, suddenly powerfully tired.

A burble played out, bright and cheery behind him. He lifted his head and realized he’d stiffened badly in his chair. How long had he been sleeping? His head pounded.

“Come on, kid,” Din said, getting slowly to his feet. Bruises throbbed beneath his armor, making him recoil each time a normal movement forced one to bear pressure. He tried to count them all, a habit he’d picked up from older Mandalorians in the Corps. Name your wounds. Face them clearly. They’ll hold less power that way.

Some of the fighters had been cocky with their naming, proud of how many wounds they’d sustained without going down. They sang their battle-scars to anyone who'd listen (and many who couldn't care less). Others had used it as a way to distance themselves from the pain that might otherwise hold them back. These days Din preferred to use the technique as a way to review his fights, to forge the damage into another weapon, to make himself harder, fiercer, sharper for the next battle.

It was also a good way to remind himself to examine himself thoroughly for injury, so that he could tend to his body as he tended to his armor. It had been a long time since he had found a Mandalorian healer to do so for him, someone he trusted who could treat his wounds while also honoring his armor. He had given up on healers outside of the Way years ago.

Din steadied himself on his feet, calculating. Bruise over the left flank. When the Devaronian slammed me against the console. Watch for blood in the vacc tube later, might need bacta if the kidney’s involved. He reached out to the kid, who held out his arms to be picked up. Searing pain over the bicep. Xi’an’s blade. Cleaning and tissue glue. He nestled the kid against his side, grateful that that, at least, did not spark awareness of a new wound.

The kid pulled him out of his cataloguing, rolling that little ball between his hands and swinging his legs. He tilted his head curiously, ears shifting to the side. Din glanced down at him, fighting a fleeting dizziness.

“I know. You gotta be hungry by now.” Din’s own gut rumbled, though he felt vaguely nauseous. He frowned.

Drowsy. Dizzy. Nauseous. Headache. His frown deepened. Concussion from Burg? He didn’t specifically remember getting hit in the head, but the fight had been a blur. He let out a long breath, irritated more than anything else. Concussions were nasty to treat. Either you wasted precious, expensive bacta on them, or you muddled through them for days, always with that nagging knowledge that they stacked: from fight to fight, from year to year.

At this point in his life, another concussion was the last thing he needed. Bacta it was.

He carefully made his way down the ladder and into the hold, shuffling toward the cabinet where he kept the rations. Bruise or torn muscle, back of the left thigh. Another blow from Burg? It was getting hard to remember the specificities of the fight.

The kid started reaching towards the cupboard the instant Din turned to face it. His fingers splayed wide, straining for the food he knew was inside. Despite himself, Din smiled.

“Don’t worry, kid, I know it’s dinnertime.” Ought to keep him occupied enough for me to do a once-over, and get that bacta started.

The kid stuffed the control knob into his mouth, and Din’s half-smile vanished instantly. “Get that out of your mouth, you’ll choke on it!” he scolded, fishing it out of the kid’s small jaws with a gloved finger. The kid screwed up his face into the beginnings of a wail, and Din shook his head, instantly regretting the action as his stomach swooped with nausea. He swallowed down his gorge, sucking in a deep breath.

“That’s enough playing with that for now,” he managed. “You can have it back sometime when you aren’t hungry.” He shoved the ball into a belt pouch, then opened the cabinet, scanning it for food. He came up with a stack of flat womp rat jerky, a wedge of bantha cheese and a pair of millet cakes. “How’s that for dinner, buddy?”

The kid swiveled to look up at him, all clearly forgiven, judging by his beaming expression and upturned ears. He let out a loud giggle and grabbed for the jerky first, happily stuffing a piece into his mouth and working it with those little teeth. But the smell, normally appetizing, turned Din’s stomach.

“Here,” he said, attempting a gentle tone. He limped to the rack, setting the kid down on his own bed and laying out the food around him. “I’ll be just outside. Getting ready for bed. You stay here, understand?”

The kid blinked up at him, golden crumbs of buttery bantha cheese clinging like a constellation all over his chin. Then he took a bite of his millet cake, holding it daintily in one clawed hand.

“Good,” said Din in relief. “You’re busy.” He closed the door to their cramped sleeping area, slumping a little against the door. He made his way over to his medkit, keeping one hand lightly against the wall. The Crest thrummed beneath his touch. Almost lost you and the kid, he thought tiredly. They never meant for me to get out of there alive. They had no honor. They never had.

And that had been obvious from the start, he’d known it just the same as he knew Tatooine had a binary star, but still. Sometimes the question wasn’t is a fatal blow coming, sometimes it was just will it be a blaster? Or a blade? He could kick himself for the wounds from both he’d earned from this crowd; some of them wounds he had never named.

Maybe that was the real problem.

“Like old times,” he murmured, regret twisting, fleetingly, within him. He opened his medkit, staring at the bacta hidden in its recesses. All that remained was a single slim patch, cut down to a sliver from multiple uses. He blinked. Of course. He should have remembered, but then, thinking clearly was a little difficult right now. He grimaced through the haze.

Using it now meant there’d be nothing left for another fight, another day. He didn’t like traveling so scanty. Yet he and the kid were fugitives, and bacta hawkers knew all the talk, as well as what kind of credits that talk could fetch. They’d likely turn him and the kid in just as soon as anyone else. They wouldn't be able to resupply any time soon.

He glanced slowly at the closed door to the sleeping rack, then reached up to remove his helmet, setting it down beside him. He kept his eyes half-lidded, avoiding the ship’s dim lights, and carefully fixed the last bacta scrap over his forehead along the area that felt most tender.

Gradually it seeped in and the ache dulled, lessening substantially. He knew from experience this wasn’t enough bacta to fully resolve a concussion, but it would have to do.

....How long can we keep this up?

He stiffened at the sudden thought. Without the covert, without signs of other Mandalorians to help them hide, he and the kid were some of the brightest targets in the galaxy. He’d known it, accepted it, but the empty wrapper of the bacta patch still sat in the palm of his hand, far heavier than it should be.

The Armorer had spoken of hunter and prey. He knew which he’d always considered himself to be, ever since the day he'd first put on his helmet. But thinking of the kid in there, cheese all over his tiny, happy face, the words felt more real than they ever had before. How long could a hunter survive as the hunted?

For a moment, Din let his eyes fall closed. Felt the bacta working, felt the fog receding, just a little. Just enough.

He crumpled up the wrapper, tossing it into the waste tube with the food wrappers from the kid's meal. He took a deep breath, looking through the neatly organized medkit, pulling out what he needed. Antiseptic. Tissue glue. Painkillers. He ran through the list of named injuries in his head, setting out a plan for himself.

It took him the better part of a standard hour to address the different wounds, and when he had finished, aches improving, he realized he’d become ravenous. He rummaged through the cupboard, coming out with a handful of rations. He slipped his helmet back on and opened the door to the sleeping rack.

The kid lay there peacefully, surrounded by crumbs, snoring lightly with his tiny nose twitching. Din chuckled, sidling in next to the kid and putting his feet up. He shifted the child’s small body until the kid was sleeping against his hip.

Din raised his helmet slightly, enough to take a bite of millet cake smeared with desert honey. Maybe it was the bacta working, but it seemed like the best thing he’d eaten in weeks. He took another bite, then another, raising and lowering his helmet each time as he did so. It took him a moment to realize this was the first time he’d eaten anything in the same room as the kid. For some reason, it didn’t bother him.

He smiled, looking down at the sleeping child. “Don’t worry, pal.” The kid babbled quietly to himself in his sleep, smacking his lips and curling up even closer to Din’s hip. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #noromo mando #din and grogu #clan mudhorn #my mando fic #the prisoner

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caramelcal · 3 years

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Fool for you {Part Two}

a/n: i was gonna write sum here but i forgot, dm me if you wanna be notified (i’m notifying in dms) for the next part besties x

warnings: highly unprofessional interviewer,

word count: 2.8k

“So, Calum,” The interviewer started, looking up at the boy who had been pretty silent throughout the whole interview. Y/n sat away to the side, out of view from the cameras that were recording the boys. She watched with a smile on her face, fondness showing clearly on her face; she loved watching the boys talk about their music, they were all so passionate about it.

“I’ve gotta ask,” The interviewer shuffled a little bit on his seat, muddling with the headphones planted on his head. His eyes briefly cast over to y/n but she barely even noticed, her eyes glued on Calum, who waited intently for the question the interviewer was intending towards him. It was clear what it was going to be about, but he still waited anyway, “This lovely lady over to my right is your girlfriend?”

Calum dipped his head into a nod, “That would be true, yes.”

“So tell me more, how did you guys spark this romance? The people are dying to know,”

Calum licked his lips absentmindedly, leaning closer to the microphone, “Well y/n caught our eye a while back and we finally got her on tour with us. We met her and we just all hit it off right away. It’s been a while we’ve been keeping it a secret, we thought we wanted that, but actually, we’re really glad just to finally be able to do our thing in public now.”

“That’s really cool mate, I’m glad you both are happy,” The interviewer flashed Calum a quick smile before turning back to his mic properly, “Right guys, we’ll be back with 5 Seconds of Summer in a minute, but for now here’s one of their singles from their album Youngblood, Valentine!”

Soon enough, they were off air for a quick break, Ashton and Michael talking amidst themselves and Luke getting a bottle of water. Calum, who locked eyes with y/n, who smiled at him. Just as he was about to stand up, the interviewer caught him by the arm, a smirk on his face as his eyes flashed at the girl, talking to Calum.

Her eyes were trained on Calum and she certainly didn’t miss the way his smile fell off of his face and his eyebrows furrowed in anger once he heard the words that came out of the interviewer's mouth. Before long, he was grabbing his jacket and rushing over to the highly confused girl, storming almost, ignoring the calls from his bandmate and management

He grabbed her arm and dragging her behind him, giving her no explanation as to why, all of a sudden, they were leaving. The pulling wasn’t forceful as such and didn’t seem malicious in any way whatsoever, but it didn’t stop y/n from being confused as to why she was suddenly being dragged away from the room, “C’mon y/n, we’re leaving.”

“Cal, what are you doing? You’re only halfway through the interview-”

“Now,” With that, he tugged her once more and before anyone could even rush out to stop Calum from leaving, Calum had already pulled her out of the exit and away to some random diner for food.

It was clear he was mad as her eyes glanced up at him for the third time in the past few seconds. Her face held hesitance, but without even looking up at her, he knew that she wanted answers; why she was dragged out of there, what the interviewer could have possibly said to make him that angry. Calum hardly ever lost composure, even before y/n knew him so to see him storm out of an interview was a strange feeling.

She knew that he would be in trouble with management once they got back for causing a scene but at that moment she couldn’t care. She only noticed the way Calum’s eyebrows were still furrowed in anger as he ate his fries, hyperaware of the glances that y/n was giving him.

“What?” He finally asked, sighing when his brown eyes finally met hers, hand reaching for another handful of fries.

She hesitated on her answer, not sure if she wanted to press at all on Calum. He was closed off at the best of times, and he was angry. Sure, they had gotten closer over the past few weeks, even though they wouldn’t admit that, but she wasn’t at a level where Calum could trust her enough to vent to her. They tolerated each other, sure, but Calum was a closed-off guy. However, she couldn’t help herself, “W-Why did you storm out? And why did you take me with you?”

Well, the questions were certainly straight to the point. She almost winced when they came out of her mouth. His gaze was still locked on hers for a moment, almost like he was lost in time before he leaned back in his seat, head-turning around to look outside the diner window. Without looking, he picked up a tissue and wiped his hands, putting it back down on his plate and sighing.

Y/n felt nervous as she awaited his answer and after a minute or so, she felt like it wasn’t even coming. Her eyes awkwardly shifted to her lap, “He asked me if you were good in bed.”

“What?” Her head snapped up at the sound of Calum’s voice, eyes wide.

“He asked me how you were in bed, and how kinky you were,” Y/n didn’t know what to say. What could she even say? That was beyond incredibly inappropriate, and the fact that the interviewer thought that was okay sickened her to her stomach.

Was that all people thought of her as? Calum’s little sex toy that he could flaunt about? They weren’t even in a real relationship and people were thinking about how kinky their sex must be. It was disgusting and made y/n’s skin crawl, “Oh.”

Calum rolled his eyes, “Yeah, oh.”

Calum directly mimicked her awkward and uncomfortable words, shaking his head lightly, making y/n’s skin flush. She knew Calum wasn’t annoyed at her and that she shouldn’t take the way he was acting personally, but she couldn’t help b but be slightly embarrassed at his mimic.

“You know, management isn’t going to be happy about this,”

“You really think I care if management is annoyed at me? He should have kept his fucking mouth shut. Creepy bastard,” Calum spat out, anger spread thickly in his words, eyes blazing into hers. She knew that the anger he felt wasn’t directed towards her, in fact, it was for her. He was angry because someone was being inappropriate towards her, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly uncomfortable with how angry he was.

“Thank you for defending me, Cal,” Y/n spoke sincerely, her voice quiet but she knew that Calum could hear her. He looked at her with brown eyes which had softened at the sound of her appreciation.

However, he simply shrugged it off, kicking his leg down from its comfortable position over the top of his other leg and standing up, “You ready to go?”

After that, Calum and y/n got closer. A lot closer. It was strange to see the two of them getting along so well for the boys, but they relished in the lack of arguing and screaming on the tour buses. Instead, they were hanging out, and she even started to go out with the boys; like she was doing right now.

It was dark in the room, the strobing lights from the dancefloor providing practically the only light in the room. People were dancing around, and thankfully no one even recognized the boys so the night was going rather smoothly. Calum had opted out of shots, as did y/n but the boys were surely having a good time. Luke was drunk, trying to pull y/n up onto the dancefloor after all of the boys refused.

“Luke I can’t dance-”

“Yes, you can y/n/n! I’ve seen you,” He whined, giving the girl a small, pleading pout before feverishly letting go of her hand, eyes casting over the boys too, “You guys are no fun!”

With that, he retreated to the dance floor. It was strange to see a 6′4 man dance around so freely, he looked a bit like one of those inflatable tube men with his hands up in the air. Hesitantly, she sighed, going to stand up and join the man before she felt a hand clamp around her arm.

“Where are you goin’?” Calum asked, brown eyes looking up at her figure in confusion.

“Gonna go dance with Luke so he isn’t alone,” However, even after she replied, Calum was hesitant to let go of y/n. She waited a few moments for him to let go but it seemed he didn’t plan on doing so, so she softly yanked her arm out of his hold and didn’t spare a glance back before she made her way to the dance floor.

While y/n wasn’t drunk, she wouldn’t exactly say she was sober either. The alcohol in her system made things blur, and made her do stuff that she wouldn’t normally do if she was sober. It also made her a lot more confident.

So, when a man’s hand snaked around her waist, pulling her back to his stomach she simply smirked. The alcohol certainly wasn’t doing her any favors when she was grinding against the man either. Her mischievous nature definitely didn’t blow over when her eyes caught onto the brown of his.

He was stood over at their booth, paying no attention to his friends talking behind him, and instead was staring straight at her figure pressed up against a man that wasn’t him. His eyebrows were pinched together, a frown on his face: he looked angry. He didn’t miss the way that she pressed further against the man behind her, letting his hands travel up to her waist from her hips and suddenly he was making his way over to her.

It isn’t long before he’s standing right in front of her, his hand making its way around her wrist, speaking gruffly, “Let's go.”

Yet, it wasn’t a request or question that the bassist was asking. In fact, he didn’t even let her speak before he is dragging her out of the club, but she barely protests. Somehow, he managed to hail a cab almost as soon as they’re out of the club, taking her in the car too before giving the driver the address to the hotel that the group is staying at.

She looked over at him with a small sigh, watching the back of his head as he looked out at the buildings flying by as they drove. The silence was suffocating for y/n, “Aren’t you going to say something, Cal?”

All she was met with was radio silence and it got worse with each breath. She expected Calum to reprimand her, scold her, shout at her even, just give her something other than ignoring her. She could only imagine that Calum was angry at her for possibly breaking the stunt, and if she got caught she knew that she was going to be in serious trouble but she hadn’t thought about that at the time.

And now she’s facing something that she thought is worse than shouting. Silence.

“Really, Cal? Nothing?”

There is nothing. Not a word was spoken in the whole taxi ride back, there wasn’t a word spoken between the two when Calum paid the taxi driver, there wasn’t a word spoken when they were in the hotel lobby nor the elevator. They’re simply stood beside one another, Calum with his eyes set straight forward, jaw clenched and stony expression covering his face and y/n with careful and discrete glances over to the boy, fidgeting awkwardly just wishing he’d say something, or just acknowledge her existence.

It seemed, however, that she got her wish when Calum’s vice-like grip caught onto her hand against when the elevators opened up on their floor. The corridor is deserted, not that they would have noticed otherwise as he quickly puts his hand out, his voice assertive and leaving no room for protests, “Hotel room card. Now.”

She fumbled with her purse, pulling out the small card and putting it in his hand. He didn’t bother to say thank you and instead turned towards the door and unlocks it, pushing it open and bringing the woman in behind him.

The door is shut swiftly behind them and spun her around, back pressing against the heavy wood that he had just slammed shut. Her hands were up, pressed against the door above her head, his own hands clasped around them holding them in place, leaving her no room to move them. His breath fanned over her neck where that other man’s had been all but twenty minutes ago as he spoke lowly, “You think you can get away with that, princess? Ruining the PR stunt?”

Her breath is caught in her throat and the room fell into silence but Calum doesn’t move. His face is still tucked into her neck, hands holding her own above her head. Her heart is thudding dangerously in her chest, hyperaware of the soft breaths the bassist is letting out hitting her neck.

Her eyes cast over the dark curls on top of his head and she can’t help the feeling but want to run her hands through them. The room is dark, the only light provided is the propitious moonlight filtering softly through the window, highlighting certain parts of the silk button-up that Calum is wearing.

“This isn’t about the PR stunt, is it?”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, his breath coming closer and closer to her neck. Suddenly, his lips are on her neck, bringing the skin between his teeth as he sucked on it, making her take a sharp intake of breath. She tried to bring her hand down to make contact with his brown curls but he still had her arms held against the door and seems that he doesn't plan on letting them go anytime soon. Soon enough, his lips were leaving her neck and he brings his head back up, brown eyes looked at her through his eyelashes. However, before he had any time to retreat any further away from her, her head is jerking forward and towards him, her lips meeting his in a kiss. The kiss was eager; need almost.

It didn’t even take him a second before he is responding to her kiss, lips moving against her with the same amount of passion; maybe even more. He almost instantly took back all control of the kiss, smashing her off of the large wooden door once more. Both of their heads are clouded and they barely even register what they are doing.

Once her back collided with the door, her mouth opened in surprise and Calum took full advantage of this, his tongue diving into her mouth. He can taste the faint smell of alcohol mixed with gum on her breath as he deepened the kiss, moaning into it. Y/n doesn’t stop him either, and she doesn’t do anything to try and hide the moan that escaped her lips.

He let go of her hands, and instead, they make their way to cup the sides of her face softly; tenderly. Her hands, now freed of their trapped position, making their way down his shoulders, tugging on the silk lightly. They continue to kiss until her hands reached the top buttons of his shirt. His hands cover hers.

“What?” Her voice is soft, eyes looking up at his brown with heavy eyelids.

“We can’t do this,” He sighed, shaking his head. Y/n’s mouth parted slightly, but before she can get a word out Calum is speaking again, “You’ve been drinking y/n, we can’t. I’m not going to take advantage of you like that.”

It seemed that whatever was clouding Calum’s head those moments before where he had been kissing y/n, acting as if their relationship was real and not a PR stunt was over. Now, he’s returning to his closed-off self that y/n had managed to crack through in the past few weeks and y/n could feel almost as if he was slipping away.

“Cal, I’m not even drunk-”

However, he didn’t even let her finish as he stepped away, letting go of her hand and letting it fall. He stood in front of her still, head ducked but far enough that he was out of reach from her, meeting her frowning face with a frown of his own, “Goodnight, y/n/n.”

Then, Calum is gone and y/n wallowed painfully in the rejection.

#calum hood #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos #calum 5sauce #calum hood x you #5sos #5sauce #5sos x reader #5sos blurbs #calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Text

Title: Lovebug (6/10)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

“As an employee you’re entitled to sick leaves.”

Entitled. It didn’t necessarily mean he needed it. Levi allowed himself a sequence of motions, some reassurance that his body was still functioning as expected

He raised his shoulders up then rolled it back, stretching his neck, bending it to one side then the other. It did wonders to help send a rush of energy through his still exhausted body. It served as a reminder, he was strong, he was functional. “I don’t need a day off. I’m fine, ” Levi said.

Erwin raised one eyebrow, giving him a once over. If he had narrowed his eyes anymore or wrinkled his nose, Levi could have given in. Other parts of his body were still reeling from the ordeal from the beach and he was sure he could fall asleep if someone just laid him out on a sofa.

Erwin though was a man of the office, a staunch professional. When it came to work and productivity, he leaned on the side of ‘being productive.’ He took Levi’s word for it. “If you are feeling anything, just anything out of the ordinary, take the day off. Feel free to just leave me a note, and I can have Petra or Eld handle the rest of the testing.”

The word ‘testing’ didn’t do much to convince Levi to rest though and maybe Erwin knew that. Levi slammed the door behind him hard enough to have him preparing for a lecture from Erwin about door slamming manners.

He waited in front of the door, gripping the doorknob from behind him for a good few more seconds.

“We could start working next week?” Hange appeared right next to him. More specifically, she had accompanied him to Erwin’s office that morning, settling for just loitering outside the door, providing a perfectly valid reason for the internal question ‘ did she hear his conversation with Erwin?’

“It’s a Tuesday and it’s not a holiday,” Levi answered matter-of-factly.

“Well, don’t companies have sick leaves?”

“They do.”

“And you were in the hospital just yesterday.”

“I was in the hospital under observation,” Levi clarified.

“After almost drowning,” Hange added.

“Just because the doctor prescribes a few more days of bed rest, doesn’t make it an almighty rule.” It was evidence that maybe a day off or two would have definitely made the difference. That slightly caustic exchange had Levi’s head spinning. He found himself having to squint just to even feign eye contact. “Besides, why are you here anyway?”

“To work on the love alarm. Don’t you think it’s better if we work closely with each other?”

“Not this early into the whole process. We could have talked through email.” Levi attempted to walk ahead. His office wasn’t too far from Erwin’s a good few flights of stairs below. With his head slightly spinning and his legs feeling like jelly, Levi went for the elevators.

It was as if Hange was on a mission to flaunt her ability to speed up her pace. She walked next to him then a few feet ahead, turning back at him. And she had been that way since that morning.

Levi gave in. “Okay, so what parts of the planning process merit a meeting today?”

“Well, I’m worried for one.”

“There are many meetings that could have been an email and I think you lecturing me about not taking a sick leave is one of them.”

“Yeah, and there’s more...” Hange trailed off, giving him a good look from head to toe. Levi liked to believe she just couldn’t find the right answer to whatever implicit question he introduced at that moment. “I’m sorry about yesterday, and the day before.”

“That could have been an email.”

“I know Zeke gave you shit about being carried by me and having to be saved by me...”

Levi stifled a cringe. A bridal carry to be specific. “That could have also been an email.”

Hange huffed. “Fine. I get if you want to be so pissy about this but let me be selfish. I didn’t join Zeke on his business trip and it’s because I felt guilty. About you almost drowning, about you being forced to play golf and almost losing all your money over a few games. It was shitty okay. And for my own peace of mind, please let me join you at work, and maybe just help you make some progress with the alarm, even just a bit?”

There was nothing much else his muddled brain could come up with in that moment of silence. “Okay,” Levi said, with a tone that could have easily been seen through. It was in fact, not okay.

“Why? Is there anything else you’re busy with?”

Levi sighed. “Making sure that damn love alarm gets tested for the next release.”

***

Anticipation had the tendency of piling stress much higher than the stress was actually worth. For many people, they only realize how much of a simple task something can be when they’re actually doing it.

When work would pile up, stress would pile up. When Levi’s brain was working at half capacity, while trying to balance responsibilities and a guilty Hange in tow, he was barely thinking about work yet still attempting to the best of his meagre abilities.

When the work was finally in front of him, the workflow tracker out, the whole ordeal of anticipating a workload had turned out to be anticlimactic. Maybe he had just gotten used to days leading up to releases being particularly stressful. After all, it usually involved early morning sanity checks, junk food and a stressed out team.

Usually. They had some good releases and the one that day seemed like a good release. Of course it would be a less stressful release. It was under testing for months and it had been pushed back a week already. The QA work was almost over. To be just a little more certain, Levi filtered his workflow tracker to staged tickets and to tickets tagged ‘ready for release.’

“So, how does this pre-release testing work?” Hange asked, leaning forward. She had taken the liberty to pull one of the chairs to the corner towards and sat beside him.

“I’m working,” Levi said coldly.

“Oh, but you said you needed to test the love alarm.”

“Yes, the team is testing it. I’m making sure everything gets tested.”

“So how do you make sure everything gets tested?”

“Well… There’s this tracker here, I assign tickets for testing and when people say it’s tested they click QA passed and I see it here. Then if anything urgent needs testing or anything doesn’t seem to work, I help out and try to fix it,” Levi said, he opened his drawer dropping one of his test devices on the table.

“So you could have gotten a day off,” Hange asked, seemingly knowingly.

Levi glanced at the dashboard to seeall tickets were tagged as ‘Ready to Release.’ the others having been done a week back. He was too lazy to check the event history and there was no need to. The necessary work had been finished.

Maybe he could have taken the day off. He wasn’t admitting that though. “So tell me, what are your plans? We’re getting the money soon according to Erwin but you’re the mastermind behind this.” Levi swiveled his chair behind him, grabbed his whiteboard eraser and cleaned out some of the useless notes from the next release.

Half way through cleaning it up though, he stopped. There might be something you’ll need there. He cursed himself for even erasing some of it to the point of incomprehensible.

“You wanna just use the workflow tracker? Like the one on your computer?” Hange suggested.

“No, this is fine…” Levi racked his brain for those numbers and he settled for just writing the notes just much smaller below the release notes to the side with the larger font.

It looked messy. It looked ugly. And his dominant meticulous side would not stand for it. In one swift motion borne out of frustration, Levi swiped his white board eraser over the whiteboard five times, more than enough to wipe it clean.

“Was there anything important there?” Hange asked.

“Just a cleaner version of what we have in the tracker,” Levi said with a slight huff. He would rather Hange wasn’t reminded of whatever could have been there.

“Well, you wanna brainstorm on the whiteboard?”

“It’s blank now.” Levi gestured for Hange to go ahead.

“There’s actually not much to brainstorm on my end,” Hange said. Still, she walked a little nearer, grabbing the marker from Levi. She drew a heart. “You used biological markers to determine love right? That’s how you made the application. If you could assume love based on biological markers… maybe you can break it down and do it similarly for feelings right? I work with psychotherapy and I thought your application might have the potential to be tweaked in the context of assessing emotion Just to give therapists an idea of how their patients feel….” Hange trailed off. She drew a small diagram under the heart, a sad face, a happy face then a blank face. “I mean we have the technology for it already right? Most phones now are capable of more complex biometrics, that’s what the love alarm is taking advantage of.”

Levi hummed. The diagram made it look just a little too easy. “And how do you think we can break down the application?” He knew the answer. Testing Hange though had been a tempting option.

Hange looked back at him, a confident grin on her face.“Yeah, you have the data already? And you created models or algorithms. Maybe you can extract part of those data sets and we can cut it down… to ‘happy,’ to ‘sad’ etcetera. And you can use what you have to make other types of alarms, like a happy alarm, a sad alarm. Right?

“We have the technology and the hardware to pull that off I guess. It’ll just be a matter of making a model, logging data, and coding. Doable with the right resources.”

“But it should be easier since you already have some of the work done with the love alarm.”

“But it won’t be as accurate at first. It took us five years to get the love alarm to this level of accuracy. I can’t even guarantee it’s completely accurate,” Levi said.

“What about it takes time?”

“We use an AI algorithm.”

“Artificial Intelligence,” Hange said.

Levi nodded. “It’s a machine learning model. We give the model data as an input and data as an output and the more data you put into it, the more experience the machine has and the better the machine gets at figuring out what the correct answer is . We give it the biological data, the input and we give it the output, the anonymous test results and some formulas, and overtime, the machine starts to figure out for itself what love is.”

“So you can’t actually break down the application to do it for you?”

“We can but it will be a pain. Might as well just create a new model.”

“Will it take as long as the love alarm?

Levi shook his head. “We have the necessary APIs, the hardware. We can buy more server space but we will have to create a new model.”

Hange raised one eyebrow. “Okay, that’s a good start.”

“I’ll just have to make a plan, see how much more resources we need and send them off to Erwin.” Levi opened an a blank document and pushed Hange’s seat closer to his. .

“Wait, I’m curious though…” Hange started. She tapped one finger on her chin. “How does data processing work?”

***

Levi never considered the server room to be anything interesting. It was after all just a conglomeration of headless computers, wires and lights.

A very important conglomeration. After all, a fire or a faulty pipe would be enough to destroy millions of dollars worth of data.

He only allowed her one peek, just opening the door wide enough for one eye to see through for just a few seconds long enough for Hange to let out a hushed breath. “Our company handles a lot of applications and some of the servers supporting these applications are housed here,” he explained.

“And the data?”

“They’re housed here. Sometimes we use cloud servers too. Sometimes caching servers and everything is processed here then sent to the application." Levi kept his words simple.

"Billions of points worth of data…" Hange's voice deadened to a whisper.

"It takes time for the data to come, the machines to learn. We started off with manual loading the data, then testing. It took a lot of work to get this much data, enough for the application to work as expected."

"And you continue to get the data I'm guessing."

Levi shrugged. "During quality testing, during actual app usage. As long as someone is using the application and complying to their biometrics being gathered by the application, we get data. That's how all applications work."

Hange hummed. Her mouth curled up into a smile. "So let's say… when I turn on the application, you can collect my data right?"

"The servers are always on, they're always collecting data. It needs the data after all to ring the alarm right?"

"Then how do we check the data?" Hange asked.

Levi leaned on the door, shutting it with a click. "When we need it, I'll extract your data on my end, then maybe I'll extract mine. To be honest, I don't think they'd give many answers though."

"Serotonin, Oxytocin, Dopamine, Body heat. There's a lot to see from those numbers.” Hange pointed a thumb to her chest. “This is my specialty.”

"Then I guess we're going to have to make sense of it together."

Hange nodded. "So what are we waiting for? Let’s work on it over lunch.."

"Don't get too hasty. We're gonna have to make a research plan."

***

Hange already had a research plan on hand and she had been working on it for a while. A twenty page document with just a section filled with bullet points and comments.

There were points Levi had to fill out himself. Still, it wasn't too much work. "You came prepared," he said.

"What can I say, it's my pet project," Hange scrolled down towards the end of the word document.

"Zeke seemed excited about it, I thought it would have been his at first."

"If this works out, his hospitals will be the first ones in the country or even the world with this type of technology. If it's sure money, it'll be easy to convince him. Besides, I have my ways." Hange gave Levi a sly smile, soon concealed by the cup between her lips.

She was in a better mood. They were out for lunch in a more seemingly relaxed position and Levi saw opportunity.

It's better now than never. "How does he feel… about the developer of the application spending a little too much time with you?"

"It's part of the research process and I need to talk to a developer, not an investor. Besides, he has other investments," Hange said nonchalantly, too nonchalantly that it was almost unsettling.

"With what happened at the beach." Just the quick recall was enough to send blood rushing to his face. He wondered if outwardly he did look a little red. He bit his lip and looked away. From his peripherals, he could see Hange though was just a little too focused on his laptop screen.

Hange could have spit out her tea. "Are you still thinking about the bridal carry? I didn’t think it was too big of a deal. I could have sworn you were unconscious."

At first, Levi could have sworn he was unconscious too. Zeke had mentioned it just a little too many times though that Levi was starting to generate his own phantom memories of the incident.

"Sorry about the CPR though. I probably bruised a few ribs.”

He remembered the CPR just a little too quickly. Or maybe it had been the bruises reminding him. Levi ran his hands over his chest, feeling a slight twinge of pain in response. "Hey, you did it to save my life."

Hange shook her head. "Or maybe I was panicking. It didn’t look like you were breathing but everything was moving too fast and---” She was digressing.

“What does Zeke think about it?” Levi pressed.

“Why do you care so much about what Zeke thinks about it?” Hange asked. She had raised her tone, maybe only slightly. It was firm, almost abrasive that Levi regretted it.

“Zeke is an investor, one of the richest men in the world. I’m spending too much time with his partner. Then back in the beach---”

“Zeke is always busy and honestly, I’m grateful for any other relationships I can make outside this,” Hange argued. “You know, life, building relationships, these things don’t end after marriage. Sure, Zeke and I committed to a relationship but I think I should still be able to find joy in connecting with other people. Marriage isn’t supposed to tie anyone down, stop them from experiencing life. People in relationships are supposed to grow freely together.”

Maybe Levi had been thinking too hard about it. Or maybe Hange was just a little too laid back. “What do you think about the love alarm ringing?”

“It happens. Besides, I’m not too worried. Love is a choice,” Hange said. “Commitment is a choice. I think I remember sending you a book about that.”

“So you don’t believe in our product,” Levi challenged.

“I never said that.” Hange started to stir at her cup, just a little faster. “You can choose to love someone, to commit to them, to be patient with them and to ride out every single problem with them but there is the feeling aspect right? That’s what the love alarm measures, or that’s what I’m suspecting.”

Levi nodded.

“So the fact that it rings with strangers or just randomly, shows that it measures attraction right?”

“Hormones, movements, pace…” Levi listed them out as just another appendix in their dialogue.

“I wanna understand… where do feelings fit in all this.” Hange put her hands up in defense.. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Zeke, I married him. He’s a good man. And I wanna make whatever it is between us work for a good long time but as someone who works with human psychology, emotions, as someone who’s seen relationships succeed, relationships fail and some that are just so-so. I wanna know, how much of it is emotions, how much of it is volitional commitment. And this type of research, with the love alarm… I think it can teach us things. Emotions are fleeting but there are emotions that stay for a long time and maybe they make being loving and being patient easier---” She slammed her hands back on the table. “Am I making sense here?”

Levi only realized then he had been biting his straw and had barely gotten anything out. “I’m trying to understand and I think I’m kinda succeeding? GIve me a few more seconds.” He looked away, silently grateful for the good view of the shopping streets from the second floor of the cafe. The cafe was a good balance of loud and soft, filled with whispers and conversations yet still calming and relaxing if he focused on that part in particular.

“Have you really, never been in a relationship?” Hange asked, seconds or even minutes later.

“No.”

“And you told me, you’ve never made the alarm ring for anyone.”

“In my five years of testing, no,” Levi said.

“What made it ring with me?” Hange asked. “ Have you ever theorized that?”

“It could be a bu---”

“Let’s assume the application is working properly.” Hange pressed. “Do you feel anything different? When you’re with me?”

Maybe he did. Levi was tempted to look back the moment Hange had ended that question with her tone of voice higher than a second ago. Her eyebrows furrowed, her gaze fixed on his. Levi had to admit, he didn’t want to look away again.

So he looked away. “I should be asking you that question. Your alarm rang too. Do you feel anything with me that you don’t feel with him?”

***

They carried the conversation elsewhere, somewhere where the walls didn’t echo, somewhere where there wasn’t anyone within a good ten meters away. Somewhere they could have sworn nobody would be listening.

It was a silent agreement, consisting of nodding and pulling of hands and it ended with them in the park, a little past noon on a Tuesday.

“Do you feel any different when you’re with me?” The question was exchanged once again, in a park bench towards the center, after seconds of checking surroundings. It came in variations of it, in stutters, between clearing throats.

When it came to recovering eloquence, Hange won without a fight. “If I tell you, will you promise to at least try to tell me?”

“Try.” Levi was economical with his words. He made certain though to consolidate all the discomforts of such a pressing topic to that one word.

Hange took a deep breath. “It’s funny because we just met right? But sometimes, I randomly think of you. When I come home to find the cleaner cleaning out the room, I think ‘Levi would probably like a clean room.’ When I was drinking coffee this morning, I thought of how you didn’t get your tea time and today, I was excited to see you. But I’m excited to see Zeke too… So maybe I’m just lonely because he left so suddenly for a business trip. Were you excited to see me?”

“Not this morning,” Levi said. That had been easy enough to let slip out. It wasn’t a lie after all.

“Oh. Then maybe my theory is wrong.” Hange said it too quickly, her voice much softer.

That had Levi feeling a tad guilty, at the same time more motivated to find some way to cheer her up. “But I was excited to go to the country club with you and when I saw you with Zeke by the pool, I felt weird.”

“Weird?”

“I kept looking, but I wanted to look away…”

Then there was silence. He was watching Hange and she wasn’t opening her mouth to speak. In the silence, he found reason for a segue. It could have been too sudden or it could have been a natural progression. Levi was easily imagining the scene by the pool as he stared at the empty streets, he thought it natural, and at least appropriate. “You and Zeke really get along huh?”

“Now yes.”

One syllable, one slip of the tongue had Levi alert.“Now?”

Hange shook her head. “Now. As in, we get along but at first, we didn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “ Zeke and I have known each other since college and he confessed to me in our senior year before graduation. We dated for a few years after that.”

“You chose to date him, even when you didn’t like him.”

“Sure he doesn’t give the best first impression, he’s a little extra, if you know what I mean, his head gets a little too big sometimes. My parents and friends said it would be a good idea to just try it out. He was the heir to one of the biggest companies in the country and he isn’t a bad person per se so I opted to try it out and over time, I got to know him, we got closer and he proposed to me a few years ago, I said yes… and here I am, married.”

“Married.” Levi looked pointedly at her. Hange had leaned back and hung her head back, staring at the sky above. She had said that last part with a little too much breath, and too little voice.

Hange gave him a wry smile. “Well, I honestly thought it was too early to settle down. I would have wanted to finish my PhD first, maybe travel a little more, meet more people before we get married but we’ve been dating for years, Zeke was insistent and....It seemed like a good choice. What was there to lose? He’s a good man. We were familiar with each other and besides, just because we’re married, doesn’t mean life stops right?”

“You tell me. I’ve never been married. Some people are asking me when I plan on settling down.”

“I guess we’re on two ends of the spectrum. You might end up marrying late. I married too early.”

“Do you think this has anything to do with why the love alarm didn’t ring?”

Hange shrugged. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. The thing is, I don’t want love to be a feeling because just bending over backward to however I’m feeling means that I’m not really free right? I want love to be a choice. I chose to marry Zeke, I chose to commit to him and regardless of what a computer says about love, I wanna be able to decide for myself how I feel, who I love and how I love.”

***

A few clacks of the keyboard. The click of the mouse. Then the computer whirred to life again, a few swishes among them.

“So, all I have to do is type out a query here on the server management studio and I’ll be able to extract whatever data we need,” Levi said. “So what email do you use for your love alarm?”

“Wings of freedom…” Hange didn’t finish. Instead she slipped her phone next to Levi, the screen open to the settings page.

[email protected]

Levi stifled a smile. “Don’t you have a more professional sounding email?”

“I like using pseudo emails for making accounts for weird things.”

“Nice to know our product counts as a weird account to you,” Levi said.

“Well, I was testing the product out before I even pitched it to Zeke. I wouldn’t want anyone to have gotten information on me.”

“Then I guess, that was a good choice.” Levi slammed the enter button and the screen froze for a second before the export box appeared.

“Yeah, I’d expect a company like yours will collect data.”

“I’m sure we have a tiny box saying ‘you comply to having your data gathered when you use the product.’”

“You did,” Hange admitted.

“Then you can’t complain about me having access to the location, the hormone levels, the heart rate and all other pertinent information of [email protected].”

“What email do you use?”

“I extracted that too,” Levi said. He opened his own application and slipped his phone to Hange.

“So you are using a pseudonym too.”

“Of course. I test the product. I need multiple emails,” Levi said.

“Sure, [email protected]. You really had to go for something tacky like that?”

“Well, no one got the username yet,” Levi said. He was quick to digress. “I extracted our biodata from the day we met and when we tested the application. It’s gonna be exported as a data file and just open it using excel or something and do what you need to do.”

“You’re a gem, Levi,” Hange said.

“Just don’t touch anything else. I’m gonna take a break first,” Levi leaned further back on his chair, grateful for Erwin’s suggestion that he got a reclining chair then. “Maybe I should have gotten a day off. Eld told me, support is quiet today and the release has been ready for a while. Nothing much else to do.” He went for his ebook reader next to his desk and held it above him.

It flashed open to the latest page.

The room was silent save for the clack of the keyboard and the whirring of the monitor. It was an odd position to be in but Levi found it was much easier to focus on words when all he had behind the reader was the white ceiling. If he tried a little harder, he could also pretend the clacking of the keyboard wasn’t at all, Hange.

He was tired. He was exhausted and the ordeal from a few days ago still bubbled at the back of his mouth. Surprisingly, the words had shifted so easily into sceneries, emotions, investment and Levi was thinking too hard about one Mr. Collins and his engagement to the protagonist.

“Levi!”

Levi was pulled out of that very comfortable stupor by one rash voice and as he looked up to see Hange smiling, he realized, maybe it had been his own emotional investment at that damn book that got him a little cranky at the wake up call. “What? How long was I reading?”

“Fifteen minutes at least,” Hange said. “I found something interesting with the data. Did you know, that when the love alarm rang, our hormones were low, our body heat was low, our heart rate wasn’t high. Would you know why it still rang?”

“I told you, after a certain point we don’t know. It becomes an algorithm. The computer figures it out for itself.”

“But we’re going to need that data when working with other emotions right?” Hange pressed. “I’m gonna take note of this.”

“Do you think the love alarm still works as expected?”

“It could. You told me yourself, billions worth of data points. How could they be wrong right? But this is nice to know, you know. Just looking at the data here, is somehow reassuring.”

“Reassuring how?”

Hange shrugged. “Well I’ll do a little of my own testing and will contact you when I come up with anything.” She looked at the clock on her phone. “Then we could schedule a visit to one of Zeke’s hospitals and have a talk with the staff, maybe they could give some feedback on the working plan.”

“You’re gonna leave?” Levi sat up, putting his ebook reader down on the desk next to him. Hange had started to rifle through her bag and that got him alert.

“Why? You want me to stay a little longer?”

“I never said that.”

“You said you were busy with work this morning and now you want me to stay?” Hange challenged.

“Well it turned out there isn’t much work to do anyway. We get the changes live by the end of this week and we work towards the next release.” Now that Levi did think about it, the job was pretty repetitive and Hange’s pet project had somehow added color to the whole experience. “But you can leave if you want to,” Levi added a second later. Just in case, she did get some sort of hint that he wanted her to stay.

That last sentence did the exact opposite. Exactly how? Levi didn’t have much time to ponder it. By the time, he had even attempted to read through the protagonist’s response to her suitor, Hange had already pulled her chair right next to his, close enough for him to be feeling slightly warmer. Then, warm enough for him to pull away. “What the hell?”

“I was just wondering what you were reading.”

“You could have asked. Were you looking?”

“No.I wasn’t raised to look over people’s shoulders when they read.” Hange said matter-of-factly. “Actually, I was about to ask what you were reading when you pulled away so fast.”

Levi sighed. “It’s one of the books you sent over in that drive folder.”

“Ooh, which one? Scott Peck?”

“I read though that already until I realized the author cheated on his wife.”

“That doesn’t make his words any more invalid. Love is a choice,” she sang. The amount of times he had heard that since he even read the book maybe even the most melodious tone grating. “So what book is it?”

“The novel, Pride and Prejudice.”

“Oooh, which part are you in?”

Maybe Levi had let his guard down just a little. He probably tilted his reader a little bit towards her. Those minute details might have been enough though to have Hange pulling closer towards him, looking over at whatever he had been reading.

“I’m a slow reader,” Levi explained.

“Well, it’s a classic. Hange said. This time she was looking at him again. “I swear, I think it shaped my own idea of love. think there’s a lot to learn about love and marriage the way that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy fall in love---”

“Wait. Stop.” Emotional investment in the book had Levi vulnerable. He only realized it then when he felt his mouth twitch, his eyebrows raise just a little higher. He found himself dropping the reader on the desk in front of him again, a retaliation at that ringing in his ears and the uncomfortable drop of his stomach. Spoilers were surprisingly painful things. “Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth… They end up together?” He managed to let out.

Hange nodded hesitantly. “Yes, it’s in the title. Mr. Darcy is pride and Elizabeth is prejudice.”

“You’re talking about the asshole Darcy right? Ten thousand pounds a year asshole Darcy?”

***

To hell if Hange looked just a little uncomfortable. Maybe more than a little. “I swear I thought everyone knew. Pride and Prejudice is a classic and it’s so talked about that---”

“I thought she was gonna end up with Mr. Wickham,” Levi admitted. It was difficult to wipe that grimace off his face, to the point that he had worn it almost as a medal while escorting Hange down to the lobby.

“Hey, I’m sorry…” Hange said. Her attempt to make amends though was grating.

Levi sighed. “It’s fine. This is a sign anyway, I need to do something more productive with my last few hours of work. I have a few more hours in the office, I’ll probably check on the team first. Is someone picking you up?”

“I messaged already,” Hange said glumly. “You know, I thought we could hang out a bit first.”

“Just focus first on getting an appointment with the hospital. To be honest, I really think I do have some work to check on.”

“Hey, I’ll make up to spoiling you okay?” Hange said. She had tried to curl her lips up to a smile, to widen the grin on her face. It had come out as something wry.

He found some solace at least in realizing he wasn’t the only one a little too bothered by those spoilers. He could have sworn it had never affected him that way before. But it’s just spoilers. He reminded himself. “I’ll get over it. Just focus on your work.” Still, it was difficult to enunciate words, it was difficult to even look at her. “Who’s picking you up?”

“Probably a chauffeur,” Hange said. She opened her phone again. The white glare of the screen reflected on Hange’s eyes and Levi was seeing stars in them again. Stars that somehow breathed life into her dead half smile of a while ago. “I can go from here.”

“Wait what?”

“Zeke’s picking me up at the gate. He said he wanted to try one of the restaurants at the nearby shopping street,” Hange explained.

Levi’s mind was an aggregate of unintelligible emotions. Do you want me to escort you out? Of course you don’t, I practically kicked you out. When there were things he couldn’t understand, maybe the right thing to do was be professional about it. “I’ll wait for your reply on the hospital visit. I’ll do what I can with the working plan and hopefully we could come up with something by Friday.”

“That would be cool. I’ll make sure to message you.” Hange wasn’t looking at him anymore and Levi had been perceptive enough to notice that her voice slowed just a little, the volume much softer than a second ago. Her mind was elsewhere.

Then suddenly, she was talking again, her voice a stark contrast from a second ago. “Zeke! I’m so glad to hear from you. Levi and I were just working on the application just now… And we have some great ideas…”

He never heard what Hange said after that. If he closed his eyes, and focused just a bit, maybe he could have but the ache in his chest was overpowering and he found it most convenient to blame the spoilers at first.

Hange walking away. Hange mentioning Zeke. Those were moments of clarity.

Darcy had reminded him a little too much of Zeke. Elizabeth, a little too much of Hange. When he walked back up to the room, back scrolled back to the scene at the ball, the scene with Mr. Wickham, he let out a laugh.

Fiction was supposed to be comforting and somehow with his own emotional investment in the story, he had hoped for an ending where money didn’t win. And he was scrambling for it long after Hange turned the corner way past the entrance.

Back in the office, alone with the reader on hand, he thought about it a little more.

I swear, I think it shaped my own idea of love. think there’s a lot to learn about love and marriage…

“A lot to learn huh?” Love and marriage which ended with a rich abrasive asshole?

There was definitely a lot to learn. Marriage could be for money. Love could be learned.

To commit, to love was a choice.

And Levi didn't need to read the whole book to be reminded of what he had already figured out.

Levi checked the table of contents, then the tracker at the bottom, he was barely thirty percent into the book, a very long book. Or maybe he was just a slow reader

After a few more minutes of staring, he managed to stumble upon the stone cold conclusion that it was a waste of time.

He quickly deleted the book, muttering to himself for a second longer that it was a good decision. Then he walked to his team's office, laptop tightly on hand. When he was looking left and right, when he was looking through his workflow tracker again on his phone, he found an out.

After all, he shouldn't have the time to ponder Hange's own ideas of love when he had an application to maintain and investors to please.

***

Levi ended up leaving work earlier than expected. It was a total lie to think there was any work needed to be done. Exhaustion clambered up quickly, a special kind of exhaustion at slogging through a day of work less than forty eight hours after being discharged from the hospital. An exhaustion that came with having spent a good hour lying to himself and to his subordinates that they had anything else to do before the release.

"Any support queries?" Levi asked. It felt more like a formality.

His subordinates had already started to pack their bags for the day.

"Nothing too urgent," Petra answered. “Nothing that can be finished in ten minutes either..”

“Leave it for tomorrow,” Levi said. As much as possible, he preferred to be the only one having to do over time.

“Sir, do you have any idea when we would start working on that new request by Mr. Jaeger?”

Levi’s answer was calm and straightforward. “We’re currently working on a plan, me and Hange and as soon as we get it approved, we can have a meeting about it.” And exhaustion made acceptance all the more natural. “You’ve all been working hard the past weeks leading up to the release. Stay low or take leaves if you need to, I’ll handle making sure everything goes live on time.”

Greetings were exchanged after that. Thank yous, sighs of relief and Levi wondered how hard the past few weeks have been, only for the release to have been delayed over Zeke’s request. Somehow, Levi felt some responsibility and guilt over such a ‘bug.’ Whether it was actually a bug or it was his own shortcomings as a human which caused the test to end that way, whatever musins he had about them, did nothing to placate the guilt as he watched their relieved faces, their much calmer faces.

The next day he woke up to emails, requests for leaves that week which he immediately approved. One week of calm, one week long enough to have it go live that weekend. Then Monday would be the post release sanity check.

He’d use the week to plan, to coordinate a little more with Hange. He opened his phone to see her number just on top, just like it had usually been recently. He had decided not to open her message until he got to the office.

Business is business. He thought to himself. The banner had given hints to the message but there weren't many hints to the context of a date time.

5/15 3:23AM. Check my body heat, serotonin levels, dopamine levels….

Less than a minute later, Levi was on the phone rattling numbers.

“So they��re high,” Hange said. “High numbers are a sign of love.”

Levi could have sworn he had heard the smile in her voice. “Why? Did something happen last night?”

“Zeke and I had a late night. It was the most fun we had in a while.”

Before Levi even noticed it himself, his mind was racing, asking questions. If Zeke had the love alarm on, would it have rang? And soon, it was clamoring for answers he knew he could never give.

Zeke’s own love alarm wouldn’t be on and even if it wasn’t on, it didn’t send data the same way Hange’s did. All he could do then was settle for speculation. “Maybe there is a bug then Hange. Or maybe there’s something wrong with the data. We’ll turn on your love alarm again when we visit, let’s try it again.”

The call ended amiably and Levi was a little more sluggish soon after. He lay his phone back on his desk and turned on the love alarm.

As expected, no hearts appeared. One hand on the keyboard next to him, he typed out a query and pulled his own data. His own hormone levels were much lower than 3am Hange’s. He opened the data Hange had analyzed just yesterday. The hormone levels were still low.

He clicked on the settings on his application, back at the dashboard then pressed the home button and sighed. “Some developer I am, can’t even figure out how my app works anymore.”

Then he thought something he hadn’t thought in a while. Maybe going for something as complex as love from the start wasn’t such a good idea.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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itmighthavebeenintentional · 3 years

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We've Got Tonight - Ch 6

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

The next chapter is the last part. I'm truly sorry.

In case you missed it: Chapter 5 ItMightHaveBeenintentional’s Masterlist

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 6

“Cas, you’ve got to listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, miss, I think you have me confused with someone else. My name is Agent Michael Jagger.” Castiel’s bewilderment is so endearing and familiar that Andy nearly loses her composure.

She grabs his hand, pulling him uncomfortably close, and she can see suspicion dawning amidst the confusion. She tows him to the back area of the restaurant, technically for staff only, but she doesn’t figure petty rules like that matter just now.

“Listen, Miss, you’ve shown interest in my partner and scheduled time to socialize with him later. While I do understand that you are traditionally attractive, I really-“

“I need you to listen, and then I need you to look. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little.”

“That’s okay, hun, neither do I.”

And then she tells him everything. He can only stare at her silently afterwards, his mouth working as if he’s lost the ability to speak.

“Read me, Castiel. You can see if I’m telling the truth. Hell, go deeper and see what I’m telling you. Please, it won’t hurt anything if I’m lying, and if I’m telling the truth, you and I can save them. Please, please, I’m literally begging you. Just look.”

Castiel gingerly slides his fingers into her hair until the heels of his hands are resting on her cheekbones and his thumbs rest on her temples. His eyes slide shut, his face going just a little slack, and then he’s there with her in the memories, memories that faded with the sunrise but seared themselves permanently on her brain the second she saw the three of them again. She knows the moment he sees his own death because his body convulses ever so slightly, but he holds on until the scene plays out and she takes her last breath in the dream.

His eyes snap open and unerringly find hers.

“How is this possible? Who are you?”

If she didn’t have those weeks of memories, she might be afraid of him right now.

“Cas, you know who I am. You saw me. I have no more idea why this is all happening than you, but we’ve got this second chance, and we have to take it.”

He eyes her cautiously, but his mistrust is beginning to fade. “I’ve been fooled before. You could be hiding something, I suppose, but...I don’t think you are.”

Relief floods over her, though a bitter tinge underlies the sweetness.

“You believe me?”

He nods reluctantly, his dry lips thinning unhappily. “I saw your plan. Are you certain this is what you want to do? Do you think it will work?”

“Well, Cas, you can see I don’t have the best track record with plans. Can you think of anything better that leaves the world intact and you, Sam, and Dean all standing?”

Even though she knows what his answer will be, her stomach still drops a little when he shakes his head.

“Yeah, me neither. It was worth a shot.”

He searches her face without suspicion this time, only a deep, genuine sorrow. “I wish I could have had those weeks with you, Andrea. In the vision, you were a good person to spend time with.”

“Call me Andy, Cas. I swear, I never could get you to call me Andy.”

“But your name tag-”

She cuts him off with a kiss to the cheek. She holds back everything else she wants to say to her friend-that-never-was. It wouldn’t make any sense to him now, on this side of their non-existent time together, and it wouldn't make either of them feel any better. She hands him a piece of torn paper from her order pad, this one larger than the one she gave Dean.

“Check the memories you read off me to be sure, but I remember the ritual starts at midnight tomorrow night. They took me from the Brass Monkey not long before then. You can investigate if you need to, but I would bet that they’ll be at the first address I gave you a few hours before then, say eight or nine o’clock, getting everything set up before they come to snatch me. You know what you and the guys will need to take them out; without my blood and the ritual, they’re still dangerous, but they’re only human. Tell Sam and Dean whatever you need to get them there, but...I don’t think you should tell them what you saw. I think everything would get too muddled, and we’d end up right back at the same crossroads with Crowley.”

“Are you sure it’s wise to still meet up with Dean tonight? What if-”

“Everything has happened the same way so far, Cas, down to Sam nagging Dean about vegetables. And I’ve got to give myself something,” she says, her laugh a little more desperate and hysterical than she intended. “I can’t just...Look, just give me this one night, okay? I think I deserve that. I think Dean deserves that.”

He glances from her to the scrap of paper in his hand. She notices that his lips move a little when he’s reading, and she thinks that little quirk suits him just fine.

“Why is there a second address?”

Thanking whatever higher power gave her this second chance and the ability to keep the fallen angel out of even a few of her thoughts, she turns away from Castiel, moving towards the sink to start on some dishes that someone has let pile up. She’s under enough strain right now that she can’t disguise her expression anymore, and she honestly doesn’t think she can handle the sadness in his eyes for one more second.

“I’m going to keep myself out of the way this time; I have no intention of starting another apocalypse. I’ll stay in tomorrow night and triple lock every entrance to my apartment until you tell Dean to call me and give me the all clear. That’s where you’ll find me when the job’s done. And, Cas?”

He pauses in the doorway, looking back at her with a tortured expression she never sees.

“Remember, we can’t leave any loose ends this time. That’s how you get more apocalypses.” ...

She’s ready and waiting for Dean when he walks in the bar. She can tell he’s taken a little effort with his appearance: his hair is freshly styled, he’s wearing a button-up that isn’t a flannel, and - wonder of wonders- he actually shaved. Having spent an extra minute or thirty on her own primping, she is pleased when his eyes go a little wide as they rake over her seated form.

“I already know I look good, but damned if you didn’t just make me feel edible,” she quips.

She is rewarded with the warmth of his smile as he takes the stool next to her. She’s pleased (but not surprised) when he brushes a kiss on her cheek in greeting. She sips her drink as he orders one of his own, and then they turn on their stools to survey the crowd. He leans a little closer to say something, and she hears him inhale when he gets near.

“You smell amazing. What is that?”

She grins behind her glass. Dean Winchester is not one to comment on a woman’s scent, at least, not in such an innocent, non-sexual way. And yet, both times around, he does just that.

“Lavender and clover blossoms from some boxes on my balcony. I clip some fresh bits sometimes and rub them on instead of perfume. Smells cleaner, less suffocating.”

“I like it.”

They talk about little nothings and nonsense for the next few minutes, favorite bands and movies and foods and anything she can think of just to listen to him talk, to experience him a little more. She doesn’t remember being able to make him laugh this much before, and she thinks maybe she’s doing just a little better time around.

“So, what’re you gonna wow me with?” he asks, gesturing towards the stage with his half-full glass.

“I was thinking ‘Making Love out of Nothing at All,’ but you could probably talk me into ‘Lonely Is the Night’ or even ‘All out of Love’ if you get me tipsy enough.”

He laughs, a bright, weightless sound that cracks her heart in half. She can’t help leaning in and kissing him then, and he leans right back, blissfully unaware of the burden she’s struggling more and more to hide. She pulls away, and he opens his mouth to say something, but she pecks him on the lips again just long enough to stop him speaking.

“You don’t. But you could.”

There’s that smile.

They sit in companionable silence for several songs, sipping their drinks and listening to the other singers. She’s just about to go put her first song request in when he looks over at her, freezing her utterly with one side-long glance.

“How long?”

She can’t have heard him right.

“I’m...I’m sorry?”

“How long have we got? Do you turn into a pumpkin at midnight, or can I keep you out later?”

Oh. Oh, God, Dean, why?

“You know what? I think I might actually go for some Bob Seger. Come help me pick one out.” ...

Chapter 7 (end)

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hopevalley · 3 years

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Season 8, Episode 9: Pre-Wedding Jitters

Y’all know what’s wild? The season is coming to a close! I feel like we just got started with Season 8, and it’s already nearly over. I’m not ready for things to end...except the love triangle. Lol.

One important thing I want to talk about, before we move on to my regularly scheduled episode write-up, of course, is the quality of the writing and filming this season. I really feel like the team took a step back and thought very carefully about how to improve the show, and then they went through the effort of actively trying to improve things.

Are there still badly-written areas of the show? Absolutely. Are there things I loathe seeing? Yes. Are there plotlines that are extremely contrived even by Hallmark standards? Unfortunately there are.

But I don’t think anyone can deny that the writing this season is, overall, an improvement over Seasons 5, 6, and 7. The only thing that I feel about S8 that is worse than 5/6/7 is the love triangle, but it had to come to a head eventually so it was always going to be a point of contention among the fans.

I’ve seen a ton of negativity going around the Internet, and you are all entitled to your opinions, but let’s hold back from being too angry until we see how things will work out. After all, there is a chance, however small, that Hallmark will end up surprising us.

So here’s to hoping that the writing quality uptick will continue as we move into Season 9.

And now, our plotlines from this episode:

The Dilapidated Love Triangle

The Wedding Planning/Party

The New & Improved Henry Gowen

Miscellaneous (Car Investigation, pastor position/Jesse and Clara + Cafe, Carson and Faith, Mike and Fiona)

This was another episode that felt pretty smooth in its storytelling; it had some smaller plots going on, but two primarily large plots, a smaller one that revolved around Henry, and then a few small (connected) plots from previous episodes/that overarched the whole season!

Sorry for the muddle by the way, it took me hours to type this and I’m too tired to read it over thoroughly before posting. If you see any glaring issues please let me know so I can fix them, though!

The Dilapidated Love Triangle

Let’s just get the pig slop out of the way, shall we? I think we are all in some sort of agreement by now that we’re tired of the triangle and just want to see it resolved as soon as possible so that we can get on with our lives and invest our interests in the right place(s).

I also believe most of us are also in some kind of agreement, however we feel about the characters, the triangle, and who Elizabeth’s choice should be, that this thing has been very poorly paced. This sentiment seems to be echoed across the Internet right now. The pacing is AWFUL. After two years of almost nothing happening, now we’re going to bullrush to the end of the triangle? That’s a yikes from me, Chief. (Wait, didn’t I say that last week, too?)

I was never a fan of the narrated beginnings of episodes. I think they’re really tacky and boring. That said, there’s no other way to get into Elizaeth’s head easily because...I don’t know. Either Erin isn’t that skilled or the director doesn’t know how to direct her, or the script sucks. They struggle SO MUCH with show-don’t-tell that they have to resort to telling...which is fine, sometimes. This is an instance where telling is just mega redundant since she says the same exact thing probably 10 more times in the episode. I wish they’d have just kept the first part of the reflection or focused more on that—how Nathan talking about it...makes it feel fresh and raw again in a way she didn’t expect.

Anyway, Elizabeth writing that she’s been “left to reflect, once more, on the senseless accident that took [Jack’s] life” is ridiculous. Senseless? He was in charge of the training mission, but unless I’m losing every last marble I’ve ever had, wasn’t it Jack’s choice to go after the younger recruits who had been separated? Wasn’t it thanks to Jack’s quick thinking and intervention that only one person lost his life that day (Jack himself)?

This is where the whole “Jack died heroically” thing kind of matters, actually. Especially when you butt it up against Nathan being the original person intended to go. Would he have risked his life like that? We’ll never know, but I’m sure Nathan thinks about it a lot, and it’s not something that should be left out of this story.

It’s valid for Elizabeth to wonder why Nathan kept the Secret hidden from her for almost three years, but what is really troublesome is the weird shift she seems to have between Casual Curiosity and Stricken Grief about it.

I grew tired of mopey Elizabeth in S4 and 5, so I’m not happy to see her back. Fewer eye drops, please. -_-

Anyway, it almost felt like a breakthrough when Elizabeth asked Rosemary why she thought Nathan took so long to tell her about Fort Clay, but Rosemary’s response was so bad. “He didn’t think it was important enough.” WHAT? WHO WOULD SAY THAT? Rosemary can be a bit thick-headed but that was almost too contrived for me to willingly follow. Anyone with a brain would realize it was IMPORTANT and THAT WAS WHY IT WAS A SECRET.

And when Elizabeth’s like, “Not important enough?” BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY IT IS IMPORTANT... Rosemary just tells her that Jack’s death wasn’t Nathan’s fault.

Which. She’s right. But that doesn’t make the secret unimportant. It’s still kind of a big deal. He’s confessed to being in love with Elizabeth multiple times now. Even Rosemary can’t be so dumb that she doesn’t realize that the connection between Jack’s death and Nathan is...meaningful, especially to Elizabeth. And that Nathan knew this and couldn’t bring himself to tell her because he knew it would hurt her.

Anyway, I’m doing my best to give Elizabeth a bit of grace here, because she’s just so self-centered I almost can’t stand it. To be clear, Elizabeth has ALWAYS BEEN LIKE THIS. It’s just that usually the issues at hand aren’t about her, they’re about someone else.

Rosemary’s right but what she said was straight-up stupid. I don’t know, I don’t think the characters are out of character so much as the dialogue just didn’t flow very naturally and I felt like the characters were making assumption jumps to force certain responses. If Elizabeth can’t agree with Rosemary that Jack’s death isn’t Nathan’s fault, then she should have expressed that a bit more directly so that Rosemary could draw the conclusion that Elizabeth does feel it’s Nathan’s fault. It came across like Rosemary was speaking to the audience more than to Elizabeth, and I didn’t like it.

The most delightful scene in the entire episode has to go to Allie and Lucas. That was so cute and wholesome and good. Her asking if she could sit at the bar, him offering her a treat, her trying to return the gift ‘cause she felt caught in the middle and like it wasn’t fair to accept it... SO GOOD. They remembered the gift multiple episodes later AND incorporated it into this episode flawlessly. LOVED IT.

Also, she asked an important question. LUCAS...where DO YOU LIVE?!

His story was a bit silly but I actually enjoyed it. It gives him a more playful vibe and also I think was almost entirely to ensure that Allie felt more comfortable and less anxious about what was happening around her. It was also his way of reassuring her that him courting Elizabeth wasn’t going to take Elizabeth out of Allie’s life...and that things will be okay.

I enjoyed it.

Things were a bit awkward with Elizabeth and Allie but they felt...better than before, so I felt like the conversation helped.

Lucas calling Allie “Allie Grant” was nice now that her adoption is official! I appreciate that.

Elizabeth and Lucas talk about how Lucas told Allie he’ll “work things out” with Nathan and Elizabeth definitely doesn’t appreciate it, and with somewhat good reason: she doesn’t like being caught in the middle of things any more than Allie does.

The thing is...she has had the power...all this time...to tell Nathan straight-up to leave her alone/that she isn’t interested. I stand by what I said before, that she shouldn’t have to tell him no for him to respect the boundaries she’s set, but if he’s not respecting those boundaries she needs to be firm about it.

I like how Lucas comes off in this scene. He wants to understand, he listens, he’s patient, he doesn’t push. I’m here for it.

She tells him what Nathan told her and he seems a bit overwhelmed by it, too. It’s pretty clear that he realizes she must be feeling all kinds of things after finding that out, especially after all this time.

Again, for the second time, Elizabeth doesn’t seem all that grief-stricken about the secret being kept from her for so long: she tells Lucas she just doesn’t understand how he could keep it from her.

He asks permission to suss out an answer and Elizabeth politely declines and says she’ll ask herself, but to please forgive her, she needs some time to...think.

She watches Lucas go and then...touches her wedding band.

Nathan meets Rosemary in the library and goes on a long boring monologue about how he’s read like, three whole books that women wrote, but still doesn’t understand women. No shit, sherlock. That was terrible writing...just straight up bad writing.

But I’m not exactly surprised because the very next thing that happens is that Rosemary tells Nathan...she’s been in his eXACT position before!

No...you have not. Yes, you were the unwanted third wheel, but that’s where the similarities ended, and you should have clarified. This just didn’t hit well for me, I don’t know. I don’t want to say it’s out of character, but...I don’t think Rosemary is this soft gentle personality anyway. I feel like she was always a bit more in your face with the things she said, not “try to encourage a manner of action in a very roundabout way” like she is in this episode. But again, without a logic jump from Rosemary, this scene doesn’t quite work.

I think I might have preferred Rosemary to play dumb and ask what specifically he didn’t understand about women. Make him freakin’ say it. And then she could react better.

We get Love Confession #3 or whatever we’re on with Nathan, now. Let’s go over the entire scene.

Elizabeth walks into Nathan’s office and instantly asks him why it took him so long to tell her what happened.

He says he felt guilty and when she tells him she doesn’t understand, he goes on to say that after the accident he requested a transfer to Hope Valley. He never met Jack but he knew he’d left behind a wife and child, and felt it was his responsibility to look after them and protect them.

She asks why he would assume that, and he explains that he felt it was his duty. And that when he found himself falling in love with her, he felt like he was betraying Jack and his memory. That’s why he didn’t tell her.

He then takes it ONE STEP TOO FAR and says, “I fell in love with you, and I think that love is always worth fighting for.”

Elizabeth says “Excuse me,” and leaves. Nathan’s face afterward is maybe a decent mix of “I probably shouldn’t have said that” and regret, but...woof.

Anyway, I was fine with this up to the point where Nathan said, completely unprompted, that love is always worth fighting for. How does he know? What are his experiences with love? Books he read, written by men??? PLEASE.

READ PRIDE & PREJUDICE U SWINE... ELIZABETH FALLS IN LOVE WITH MR. DARCY BECAUSE HE DECIDES HE WANTS TO CHANGE AND BE A BETTER MAN AND THEN DOES SOOOOOOOOO oh wait this is turning into an Elizabeth/Henry argument...OOPS?

Anyway, yeah. Not a fan of that line. It almost feels like there’s something missing. She’s standing in front of him about to cry because she feels hurt that he didn’t tell her this, you know, crucial information, and he’s just like “Yeah I didn’t tell u cause I love you and felt like i was betraying jack’s memory and also lol love is worth fighting for babe!” What kind of confusing mess of babble is this?

Honestly, it just left a bad taste in my mouth. :( I have so many really obnoxious opinions about Nathan and what they’ve done with him this season, but I feel like I should save them for a season summary podcast or something, just in case Hallmark ends up surprising me. Right now I just feel like they really just wanted to give him what the fans hated about him (he wasn’t passionate enough, not manly enough, not forward enough with his emotions, at least from what I read on Reddit and Instagram last year), but in like THE WORST POSSIBLE WAYS and for the wORST POSSIBLE REASONS in the VERY WORST SCENARIO.

I feared that would be Nathan’s reason for coming to town from the moment the character was announced and...I wanted to be wrong.

Anyway, I really liked his self-awareness up to that point. He never met Jack, which keeps some of the weirdness at bay. Also, he felt like he needed to make sure Jack’s family was okay, and that’s fine. I wouldn’t call it noble (as Rosemary later does), but it’s not exactly bad, either. Then we got the line of him admitting that it felt kind of bad to fall in love with her. I wish he’d gone on to say that wasn’t supposed to happen, or even given her a reason he loves her (so that it doesn’t feel like we’re just being told everything), because his line about love being worth fighting for right after he says he felt like he was betraying Jack’s memory by loving her...was...really strange??? Maybe a few sentences were edited out?

Elizabeth tries to refuse to play Fiona’s blindfold game and LITERALLY NO ONE SAVES HER (though I think Rosemary considered trying). I hate the idea of this game solely based on the fact that several people participating shouldn’t even be there (Nathan, Bill, Mike, Fiona, Molly), but Elizabeth wouldn’t be able to accidentally choose Nathan if he wasn’t there, so... -_-

I think I might have actually liked this (her “no” with Carson was super cute actually, probably the cutest laugh she’s ever had on this show) if she’d had the chance to reject a few more guys on the way down the line. If she was closer to the end of the line she’d feel her options were running out and might second-guess herself. Having Nathan be the second person she touches and having her choose is...eh.

Nitpicks aside (their hands wouldn’t feel the same and she held Lucas’s hand quite recently actually), it could have been worse. At least she stated who she was searching for...

BUT UGH THE EMBARRASSMENT.

The thing that gets me about the whole scene is 100% that everyone in town would know about the Triangle drama, so it feels...weird to see everyone so gung-ho to watch this happen... I don’t know... I like having fun too, but NOBODY even TRIED to step in???

At least Lucas found some humor in it right away (he smiles).

I think I wish someone had said something. Maybe Nathan could have said, “Nope, sorry” to lighten the mood a bit? Or Lucas could have said, “Almost!” since he was standing right next to Nathan?

Anyway, we’re spared having to wait because the very next scene is Lucas checking on Elizabeth and laughing about her choice.

One line I wish they’d added in is that someone else got it wrong. Imagine if Lucas said, “At least you didn’t pick Bill like Clara did!” Or even just made a joke about it in general like: “Of course I’m not upset. But if you would have picked Bill I might be a little hurt. My hands aren’t that old yet.”

Elizabeth tells him that she spoke to Nathan about the whole...thing and it was awkward. She chooses to not tell Lucas the rest of the reason Nathan gave, but instead only admits that he told her he loves her again. When Lucas asks what she said in response she said she didn’t say anything.

Lucas seems...a trifle upset at this, and understandably so. I think he can sense she’s...not really a sure thing and is worried about it. :( I feel so bad for him right now.

Rosemary stops by to see Elizabeth after Lucas leaves, and tells her she ran into Nathan at the library yesterday. Elizabeth tells her what Nathan said in his office and Rosemary says it was noble and selfless of him.

(I mean...it wasn’t selfless. Like at all.)

Elizabeth says she never asked him to be noble. She didn’t ask him to fall in love with her, either.

She asks Rosemary if she encouraged Nathan’s feelings for her at the library. Rosemary says no, but Elizabeth asks again and she interrupts her to ask Elizabeth if she’d rather hear what she actually said or just assume.

Rosemary goes on to say that she just wants what’s best for Elizabeth.

And we get Elizabeth asking how anyone would know what was best for her.

I mean, that’s like 90% on you for not communicating with your friends, but also, it’s 100% on you for just assuming you knew what Rosemary said to Nathan. I think she’s just looking for a reason why Nathan is being so persistent and in her mind encouragement from someone else is the only thing that makes sense, ‘cause she sure as heck hasn’t been encouraging him herself!

This hurts Rosemary’s feelings, probably because she was about to say that she wants what’s best for Elizabeth so she asked Nathan to stop getting in the way lol, and says maybe she should leave (since Elizabeth is in a bad mood). Elizabeth agrees she should go.

End episode. On this note. Woof.

Overall it wasn’t too bad I guess? But I’m not a fan of how some of this was written. It really felt like they cut lines out to make the episode shorter, when...they could have cut out one of the boring side plots. You know. The entire thing with Jesse and Clara, for example.

The Wedding Planning/Party

I admit that I got a little enjoyment out of Florence saying no to all the dresses. Highly relatable.

Then, at the barbershop, Fiona says the exact wORST possible thing about Florence wanting a hairstyle that’ll “knock Ned dead” FLHDSFAJDSA.

Florence goes on to say she wants anything but “ordinary Florence” and Molly steps in.

Honestly, I wish they’d just let Molly stick to being Florence’s BFF because that’s the role she plays best. Also, I’m almost sad Florence and Ned got together because it means #teamflomo is no mo’. :(

Paul shows up...

I don’t know what I expected but this boy would have been a literal BABY in season one, which makes the whole thing with Florence almost sadder AND it gives Florence more in common with Elizabeth (widow with a young child) BUT I HAVE OPINIONS.

I know what you’re thinking. “Manna, you always have opinions!” Yes, you’d be right.

They based this off of ONE (1) line of dialogue that Florence had in S1 when something was stolen from her house. She says, “while my child slept nearby” or something like that.

They brought a child in...for that? On one hand...I’m impressed.

On the other hand, I kind of had just assumed they’d retconned that and that Florence had no children (which is why she was always goofing off gossiping with Molly) so I don’t really know how to feel about the whole thing.

Rosaleen starred in an episode and never showed up again after S1, so I think I’d have preferred to see her return instead of a child we literally never laid eyes on. But he’s a cutie. And he’s named after his father just like little Jack so...I’ll take it!

The party begins and we have to do “the men are stupid and don’t know how to plan” again which is really annoying. The highlight of this entire thing was Ned saying (about his hairline) that he’s been driving with the top down since his 30s. I respect you AND ONLY YOU, Ned.

The party continues on and they play charades. Rosemary chose weird awful options that don’t make any sense and are hard to act out. Ned’s could have been funny but the one Bill got is just...so weird.

The funniest part about it is looking at everyone staring at Molly as she guesses it.

I think it was supposed to be...cute? Or something? It was just really weird for me.

“Cuddle up a little Closer, Lovey Mine” (yes, it’s “lovey” not “lovely”) was written and recorded in 1908. You can listen to it here. Lyrics here.

They then play the Most Awkward Game Ever, one that would have had me sweating bullets if I’d had to play it. Florence has to find her man by only holding the hands of the other men.

As Fiona says, it’s a bit...risqué, but Florence rejects Jesse quickly and finds out the second man is Bill by squeezing his hands too hard.

Bill explains that his arthritis is flaring up and of course Sara and I jumped on that almost at the same moment:

We like Bill. :P

And then Florence correctly guesses that the next man is Ned. It’s very wholesome and sweet.

But then it’s Elizabeth’s turn because I guess she’s not been traumatized enough this episode. I covered that in the triangle part of the plot, though.

The New & Improved Henry Gowen

We start off with a BANG here with Henry and Christopher. Christopher misses Rachel because he’s a twitterpated little FOOL and he tells Henry all about it...while Henry sees Bill tearing apart the stolen car in the distance.

He asks Christopher how he got to Hope Valley from Hamilton and Christopher just straight up comes clean about it: he drove a stolen car that his buddy stole.

Henry scolds him a bit, tells him he can’t borrow a stolen car, and explains that he doesn’t want Christopher to end up like him. Christopher seems kind of surprised by this and says, “You turned out good.”

To which Henry replies, “The jury’s still out on that.”

Christopher says he’s done with that kind of thing, and Henry tells him he believes him.

Honestly, Henry’s “I believe you” got to me. It sounded SO genuine. And also, can I say YET AGAIN that this kid was an impeccable choice to play Henry’s son? WOW. I can’t get over how much alike they are even in mannerisms and looks.

But THEN when Henry tries to say Rachel has something to do with Christopher being done with that old lifestyle, Christopher tells him “And you” AND I ALMOST LOST IT. SOOOOO GOOD. Henry goes on to explain that “long after” he divorced Christopher’s mom, he met Abigail, who saw the potential for goodness in him. And that he can’t help Christopher be a better man because he’s still figuring that out for himself, but if he thinks Rachel can help him, he should do what he can to not lose her.

Later, Henry invites Christopher to Ned’s party and Christopher declines but asks what happened to the woman Henry mentioned earlier—Abigail, of course. Henry says she left town to help her mother.

Is this a...hint of things to come? I’m...not sure.

Henry sits down for two seconds before Lucas asks to speak with him outside. Once there, Lucas admits that he contacted Christopher. This is one of the most contrived plotlines we’ve had in a bit, if only because I just can’t figure out how Lucas would have known who Christopher was, let alone whether or not he would be useful? He doesn’t even have the same last name... I mean, what, did Henry write in sparkly gel pens or something?

But for some reason he contacted Christopher to come work for Henry to keep an eye on him. He’s not proud of having done it, which makes sense. I guess I wouldn’t be either.

Henry’s upset about it. Lucas tells Henry that he took advantage of him and that he had to make sure Henry could be trusted.

Christopher doesn’t know that Lucas told him, though, and Henry asks that Lucas keep it that way.

It makes Christopher’s behavior with Lucas make more sense (when he kept trying to push him around earlier this season), but the timing is just...awful? Maybe talking to Elizabeth about Nathan’s secret made him feel guilty about his own? I’d buy into it more if I felt like there was a really compelling reason for Lucas to feel that Christopher would do any good...but it’s just too contrived for me.

Christopher randomly decides to go to Bellingham to see Rachel. Henry tells him not to make trouble if her parents ask him to leave. Henry makes to leave, and Christopher stops him.

I CANNOT SING THE PRAISES OF THIS SCENE ENOUGH. Christopher tries to tell Henry about the thing with Lucas and Henry’s like...you’re different now, you’re starting over it doesn’t matter anymore!!!! Everyone deserves a second chance!

AND THEY HUG AND CHRISTOPHER TELLS HENRY HE LOVES HIM.

They almost got me to cry. ALMOST. I refuse to cry at this show because I refuse to give Brian Bird the satisfaction, but boy oh boy was this close.

Henry responds with a “me too” and makes Christopher promise to write. Then the stage leaves and that is that.

The rest of the storyline for Henry is under the car investigation. They’re related but...only intertwine at the very end so I separated them. ;)

Miscellaneous (Car Investigation, Pastor Position/Jesse and Clara, Carson and Faith, Mike and Fiona)

Car investigation: Nathan starts this episode off on the wrong foot. I think that was...a mistake. THAT SAID...I’m relieved Bill isn’t being written as a complaining whiny pile of trash for once, so I just want to say that...they had to realize after last episode the fan opinion of Nathan would be...not great, so mayyybe they shouldn’t have started this episode off with him literally complaining about doing his job...while he’s in uniform no less. Also he has NO PASSION at all for his job, or for investigating, which I hope means he’ll end up quitting the Mounties. (It could be a hint of things to come...I hope.)

I mean, does he think Bill got his position for...no reason? Also, thank God Nathan turned down the promotion to Inspector if that was how he was gonna treat actually doing the work?? I’m pretty sure this is their idea of “humor” but boy did it fall flat after the love triangle mess that’s been going on.

The owner talks to Nathan on the phone later and is coming from Hamilton to get his car. Nathan seems to be telling Bill this to discourage him from wasting his time investigating, but Bill doesn’t want to stop lol.

Ned’s comment from the party about his hairline being him “driving with the top down” gives Bill an Idea in the middle of the bachelor party and leaves. Ned looks shook that he produced An Idea.

And follows. Ned is absolutely adorable as he assists Bill. They should interact more?? Long story short, Bill figures out that the top was probably up when it was being transported to Hope Valley (as you wouldn’t want people getting a good look at your face if they’re looking for a stolen car), and finds a footprint in the removable top.

The next day, Bill approaches Henry up at the oil derricks and comments on the fact that Lucas told him that Christopher checked out of his room at the saloon. Henry is up front and honest about where Christopher went, and says he went to Bellingham to see Rachel Thom.

He says, “You know how it is. You love someone, you’d do anything for them.”

The one interesting thing about this comment is that...no, Bill does NOT know. He’s never admitted to being in love in his life. He married Nora, but that was out of obligation (something he makes clear several times). Like, he obviously cared about Nora, but he wasn’t in love with her.

Obviously he’s loved someone enough to do anything for them (his son), but considering he’s dead, and possibly died in a really traumatizing way considering how it’s portrayed, that seems a bit...insensitive. :P

Bill counters it with, “Almost anything, maybe.”

He then goes on to tell Henry he found a footprint in the stolen car.

And he just. Kind of. Gives Henry. A look. Because he knows exactly who stole the car, he just has to prove it.

Henry stops Bill and says: “A while back I remarked about how you had never solved the mine disaster. Perhaps if you and I get together, I might be able to help.”

Bill doesn’t say a THING...he just leaves. But he looks kind of...put off by the whole thing.

Like he knows what Henry is doing.

Do you know what Henry is doing?

Anything.

For someone he loves.

(Pst. That someone is Christopher.)

As soon as Bill is gone, he picks up a pair of shoes and throws them into the fire.

I think it’s pretty clear that Henry is using this mine disaster thing to protect Christopher, and he’s doing it for this reason WAY MORE than he’s doing it to come clean and be a better man. That’s just my theory, though. I think if Bill hadn’t found anything out about the car, then Henry wouldn’t have brought it up.

But I guess he knows something. The question is...what? And also, when did he mention Bill never having solved the mine disaster? I’m really struggling to remember Henry ever saying that to him, at least not recently. Does anyone recall offhand?

Anyway, I’m wondering if they’ll tie up that whole thing about Noah and Peter that was never addressed on the show to the fullest. You know, the whole thing with them going into the mine knowing it wasn’t safe and not warning anyone. I think a lot of people who watch this show have never been in poverty or lived paycheck to paycheck, but sometimes a person just has to put their head down and keep working even when it’s not safe, because they have to keep living. Or because they had more time to put a stop to things before anything bad happened.

I think blaming Noah and Peter as much as Henry is pretty stupid, but they still shoulder some blame. They were working to fix that problem. Henry wasn’t. He did what he was told and shut up. But maybe there’s a bit more to that story. Could be interesting.

Could also be the worst reveal ever, so...who knows? I’m curious to find out.

BUT ALSO what do they mean Bill didn’t solve that case? The widows sued and won. Sure, he got beat up in S1 carrying evidence out of the mine, but it’s not as if there wasn’t a lot more of it inside the mine, too. Everyone knows the fault of the collapse was due to working conditions being unsafe. What’s left to solve? Is Henry going to give Bill the names of the people who told Henry to keep his mouth shut?

Or...are they talking NOT ABOUT THE HOPE VALLEY MINE DISASTER, but the original one that sent Henry to Coal Valley (and Nora into a marriage with Bill)? Because that one was not solved. The company just made Henry a scapegoat in that case.

THE WAIT TO FIND OUT MORE IS GOING TO BE TORTURE.

Pastor Position/Jesse and Clara + Cafe: I enjoyed Minnie in this episode and seeing her step in and help Clara and become part of the town was great. Jesse giving more credit to Joseph than Lee was pretty funny, and a nice set-up for Lee realizing that Joseph is a pastor. Lee is apparently head of the search committee to find a new pastor...which...sure...okay. Also apparently the newspaper died?? Uh.

I’m kind of hoping Rosemary’s new passion will be the newspaper since she’s supposedly going to dig her nose into things next episode and she used to write a column for the old paper (so she has some experience). Thoughts on that?

Anyway, Joseph agrees to pastor the church instantly the second Lee asks...so it feels weird that his original goal/plans/whatever just...don’t matter anymore? Okay.

They buy a bell.................WHICH BRINGS ME TO MY BIGGEST PETTY COMPLAINT OF THE EPISODE. BRO THAT BELL STRAIGHT UP LOOKS 3D PRINTED FJLKDSAHFLDSAHFLDSAHFKLDSA

Anyway I’m teasing. The Liberty Bell weighs a little over one ton, and two horses could easily pull that.

No complaints. My husband complained last week that there wasn’t a bell and now there is. It’s like he knew.

Joseph talks about what a “calling” feels like (I think this will come back again with Rosemary which has me VERY HAPPY): a tug on his heart.

Joseph also tells Lee that the men in his yard earlier were surveyors and that he won’t move, at least not far, because he has a congregation to lead, now. Makes me wonder if he’ll actually sell!

Anyway, Jesse and Mike are cute pals and decide to have a snack in the cafe while the gals are socializing with Rosemary (who has just returned from the library).

Rosemary’s books are on land acquisitions, surveying, and territorial law.

Minnie and Rosemary decide to talk about this while Clara leaves. Why? I’m not sure. Maybe just ‘cause it was boring lol.

She gets back as Mike and Jesse are talking about, uh, her, actually, and Mike asks if all is quiet on the homefront.

Yes, it is. Unlike the trenches of WWI.

But seriously I thought it could be a joke reference to “All Quiet on the Western Front”...a WWI novel. Since...you know...WWI is going on and hasn’t been acknowledged at all even though it’s almost over now.

Joke’s on me, though...that’s too advanced for Hallmark.

Anyway it’s only quiet for like two seconds, because Clara busts in, thinks they’re eating the food she’s been busting her ass over for the party, and yells at Jesse. It makes everything awkward. Jesse simpers about like a sad little clown instead of trying to be understanding. Yawn. Awful. Bye.

I don’t know what would fix that scene, but I think part of the problem is...I’m just not invested in Clara and Jesse anymore. It’s perfectly reasonable to expect them to need more time to get over the problems in their relationship but I don’t care about them enough to care about the journey...if that makes sense. I’d rather watch Bill dust for prints on the car some more.

They do have a chat, and work things out, so that’s good I guess.

Carson and Faith: Carson has officially stolen the dock from Abigail and Frank, and so my hatred for them doubled instantly.

Me, a territorial loon: THAT SPOT IS NOT YOURS!!!!! FIND YOUR OWN!!!

Anyway Carson makes things awkward and then busts out that he accepted the fellowship without talking to Faith.

She’s kind of hurt by this?? UNDERSTANDABLY?? But then he asks if it would have made a difference. I mean, common courtesy would be at least sitting down like this and telling her, “I’ve decided to accept it.” But no. He just. Accepted it without telling her he was going to. Bro...

They aren’t on the same page for even two seconds. He tells her he was committed to the relationship and put all his plans aside so that she could be happy.

Honestly, as much hate as Nathan’s getting right now, if people gave a damn about Faith I think Carson would be getting his fair share of hate, too. What a jerk???

He goes on to say it wasn’t a waste of his time (when she asks), but never bothers to tell her more or to prove he didn’t feel that way (BECAUSE HE SURE ACTS LIKE IT WAS A WASTE OF HIS TIME). He just says he hopes she changes her mind and comes with him to Baltimore.

At the party Carson and Faith go outside to talk where Carson admits that he should have told her he was accepting the fellowship before he wrote. She tells him that the year she was gone was almost too much time apart for her, and Carson promises to write her and tells her she can visit him, too, but she brings the conversation back to reality. They’ll both be super busy.

He suggests they get married, and then immediately says he’s not asking (it’s not how he’d propose), but that they could look forward to getting married. (Good thing they laughed ‘cause I sure wasn’t. It was super awkward...) He suggests seeing how they feel in about a year. (Oh...perfect timing for...next season...hm.)

Faith tells him she loves him and wants what’s best for both of them, even if that thing isn’t them being together. They agree to just enjoy the night and worry about the rest later.

Anyway, I feel like these two just have NO chemistry (they’re worse than Bill and Molly in my books). I really appreciate the attempt to give them meaningful material, and I like that Carson has a passion again, but boy oh boy are these two hard to watch. The plotline is really good, but the characters just...aren’t great. I figured if anything they’d give a plot like this to AJ and Bill to tie that up (some kind of conflicting reason she can’t stay in Hope Valley to be written off the show for good) so I was surprised to see it going to Carson and Faith instead, but like...in a good way because it’s actually compelling for their situation! I've been in a similar situation and it feels REALLY BAD to like someone a lot but not be ready or willing to commit to an extreme for whatever reason. Faith doesn’t want to go to Baltimore because she loves Hope Valley and she undoubtedly doesn’t want to see it go without a doctor at all. Carson likes Hope Valley but his passion is in surgery and he can make a huge difference in a big hospital. He could still make a difference in Hope Valley, too (undoubted he’s the only surgeon for many miles around these smaller towns) but he also likes hospitals and their equipment and maybe misses what he had a long time ago.

So it’s a great plot. It’s compelling. It’s even a bit tragic when you think about it!

But my God do these characters just...not come off as convincing. :(

Mike and Fiona: The scene with Ned was SUPER cute. Genuinely funny. Mike asking Fiona out. Everyone teasing Mike about how much he likes her. It’s very cute and wholesome. So far I enjoy it a lot. There’s not a lot to talk about here but I like that it’s...simple.

I MEAN...she’s so cute.

END THOUGHTS:

I want the next three episodes right now immediately, but I’m also going to be pretty sad when this season ends...I think.

The biggest speculation from this episode, by the way, is that they’re opening things up to write Abigail back onto the show. How do we feel about that?

Any other thoughts? Favorite scenes? Share!

#when calls the heart #long post #analysis and meta discussion #character studies and information

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sylvie-writes · 4 years

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You Look Cute

This is for @memissbee I’m so sorry about your day, babe! Here’s some floofy Andy to hopefully cheer you up! Love ya girly!

I do apologize for it being so short and kinda bland (in my opinion anway)

Summary: In the years you have been married to Andy Barber, never once have you seen him wear glasses.

Today was gonna be quite the exciting day for you. It had been a while since Andy worked from home and in all honesty, you were ecstatic. At 6 am Andy was already up and out of the bed, typing away on his laptop and you slightly frowned. Even from home, that man was a workaholic. So last night, you made him promise that he’d finish the necessary amount of work and take off for the rest of the day. It took some convincing, but he reluctantly agreed eventually.

That was yesterday, and here you are. It’s noon and you wanted to take Andy to lunch, something simple. He should be finished working right?

Your purse was slung over your shoulder as you ambled down the stairs, careful not to slip on the wood in your newest pair of flats. Andy’s muscular back was uncomfortably hunched over as he sat on the couch, laptop in his lap and his phone in hand. At least he moved from the counter.

Depositing your purse at the kitchen table, you went up behind Andy and placed a small kiss on the crown of his head. Slowly you moved your hands from his shoulders to his chest, splaying your fingers and laying your chin lightly on his head.

“How’s work going, darling?”

To be honest, Andy was grateful to work from home, for it granted him more time spent with you. Late nights were now spent snuggled up, binging a tv series you had found a few weeks ago. Early mornings were now met with enjoying breakfast with you.

You were his world.

Even while he was glued to the laptop, you’d sit beside him, busying yourself with your own work. Not many words were spoken, but it was understood.

I love you.

Andy patted your hand lightly so he could turn and look at you.

When he turned, a bright smile on his bearded face, you were completely dumbfounded at the sight laid before your eyes.

A pair of thin, black metal, browline glasses comfortably resting on his nose, slightly rising due to the man’s large smile.

“Since when did you start wearing glasses?!” You brought your hands to gently rest upon the sides of his face.

“Middle school, hun.” Andy just laughed as if it weren’t a secret that he had been smuggling for the past ten years.

“I’ve never seen you wear contacts though either!” Still holding his face, your eyes scanned over his facial features, now noticing how the glasses seem to make him ever cuter…

“Well, I keep my side of the bathroom tidy.” A knowing smirk waved onto his lips and you playfully stuck your tongue out at him.

“You should’ve told me because you look very cute right now.” Chuckling, Andy picked up your hands from his face, placing kisses on your wrists. At some point you had sat down beside him on the couch, allowing Andy to rest your hands in his lap while his now free hands reached for the glasses.

Looking at your husband, who held up his newfound glasses, you shot him a muddled glare.

Andy just shook his head as if telling you, don’t worry. While taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, quickly shooting them open when you felt something on your face. A failed attempt, you tried to look down at your nose, getting a blurry glimpse of the glasses.

“You are the one who looks cute.” Your husband threw you a playful wink before sitting up from the couch extending his hands out to help you up.

“Wow, I thought my vision was bad!” Sweeping the family room with your new set of eyes, everything seemed to be pushed from you. The couch that was once beneath seemed to be farther away than prior. You had your own contacts in, which probably wasn't the brightest of ideas to wear both prescriptions simultaneously.

Andy, who stood directly beside you, was now an arm’s length away, or so it seemed with the strong prescription being forced upon your eyes.

“You are blind, old man!”

Andy swooped in front of you, taking back his glasses.

“That’s enough smahty pants.”

Oh the boston accent. That was another perk that came with the lovely man that is Andy Barber.

Sometimes you’d even tease him about it.

“Andy! Suppah’s ready!” You’d call in a mock Boston accent and he’d laugh before responding with a real Boston twist.

Goofing hour was over and it was now time for lunch, at least your stomach thought so for it growled lowly but audibly.

“You ready for lunch? Because apparently I am.” You giggled along with Andy who let out a breathy laugh.

“Lemme go put in my contacts real quick.” Andy briskly turned away from you before you reached for his arm, halting him and his previous plans.

“Keep the peepers on, I like ‘em.” You kissed his nose then reached around to grab your purse from the table.

Neither of you had decided on lunch yet, so as Andy grabbed the car keys, you figured now would be the time to ask instead of cluelessly driving around in circles.

“So what do you want for lunch, babe?”

In a thinking manner, Andy brought his hand to his face. While he contemplated his many choices, you secretly crossed your fingers in hopes of going to the sub shop.

“Subs?” The thought of a scrumptious footlong turkey sub with its large variety of toppings, calling your craving. This wasn’t just any sandwich, no, it was the same sandwich that you’ve always shared with your husband on many occasions, ever since college. Come to think of it, there were so many memories you share with your goofy husband.

That man knew you like the back of his hand. He knows your exact coffee order, what size you wore, practically any unimaginable thing, or smallest detail you can think of. And at this very moment, he knew exactly what you were craving.

“You know it!” Excitedly you did a little happy dance fabricating a goofy grin from the man in the kitchen. Andy walked to the door and then held out his arm, inviting you towards him. Gleefully, you tucked yourself into his side, provoking Andy to turn his head and kiss your temple. The two of you walked out the house, held in each other’s loving embrace and off to a much needed lunch.

#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x you #andy barber imagine #chris evans

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel and the Great Tree Part 1

We’re now finally at the mid-season finale of season two, and it’s easily the best episode of this season. That however doesn’t mean that it’s not flawed, so here we go...

Summary: The group makes it to the Great Tree, only to be confronted by a new adversary: Hector, the brother of Adira, the most dangerous member of the Brotherhood; sworn to keep all from reaching the Dark Kingdom. Despite all that has happened, Rapunzel is determined to continue on toward the Dark Kingdom to uncover the truth behind her destiny. As they navigate through the Great Tree, Rapunzel discovers the Moonstone incantation which overwhelms the magical powers of the Sundrop in her blonde hair and causes injury and weakness to those around her.

The Brotherhood Is Such a Wasted Concept

We have a group of highly trained warriors, directly connected to the series main macguffin, who consider each other siblings, who all have conflicting goals, and they’re all severely underdeveloped to the point of ridiculousness.

For starters, in a show all about pushing sibling rivalries as parallels to the two main characters, it utterly fails to show the only other siblings who are actually connected to the plot acting like actual siblings.

Adira and Hector should be a parallel to Cass and Rapunzel in this very episode. One that actually ties into the narrative, yet outside of calling each other brother/sister/brethren they don’t act like family; even feuding family. Adira also fails to treat Quirin, Varian, Edmund, and Eugene as family. She shows no real concern for any of them despite saving her home (which would included her family) from the rocks being her main goal. She should be just as every bit as invested in saving Quirin as Varian. Which is yet another reason why Varian should have been S2 and another entry point for him in the show’s plot.

As for the rest of the Brotherhood, they never even interact at all. I don’t think anyone tells either Edmund or Hector what has happened to Quirin or Varian. And Edmund clearly didn’t inform Hector of Eugene, even though he logically should have. And did any of them know if Edmund was alive, despite Edmund having the means to communicate with the outside world with the crows?

What we’re left with is a bunch of holes in the story, because there’s now a bunch of holes in everyone’s motivations and their actions never quite line up.

And before you say, ‘well they’re not that important’, or ‘they’re aren’t meant to be a real family’; then that is in of itself a flaw because they should be. Not making them found family undermines Raps and Cass being found family, as it undermines every other sibling parallel in the show, and those parallels are the only build up we have to the sister reveal in S3.

It also undermines the moonstone plot and the whole reason why season two exists. Don't introduce things that connect back to your story and not make them important. In fact don't introduce unimportant elements in a plot driven show like this period.

Another Indication of the Timeline

As stated before, Tangled is really bad at indicating the passage of time, despite the passage of time being a big plot point. We’re now a ‘few months’ past the island, which itself was 6 weeks, and before that it was several weeks to maybe even a few months before getting to the island...

So when does this take place? Well we were told that season two takes place over the course of a year by the creator, and that this is the mid-season finale so 6 months since SotSD sounds the most plausible. We also see fall trees dotted around like we did during the first half of season one. Which is the only visual indicator we get of changing seasons in the show, but it’s too understated to be properly noticeable most of the time.

However, the crew themselves can’t even seem to agree if Rapunzel’s Return is her birthday or not, so if you’ve heard conflicting sources, it’s because this shit wasn’t planned properly first. But all dialogue and visual cues point to the first half of season two being at least 4 to 6 months. With 6 being the most logical placement.

Just a Reminder, that Hook Foot Is Still Useless

If all you were going to have him do is whine like a child during the only plot important episode that he is in, then why not just replace him with an actual child?

It takes more work to leave Varian out of season two and force Hook Foot in his place, than it does just to write Varian in. There were so many potential entry points for his character, that the one they would up going with was the least natural to the characters and the story they were trying to tell. And even then, the Saporian take over they went with could still have worked had they handled things properly and pre-planned that stuff out.

But they didn’t. By all accounts S2 was a hasty re-write to get rid of Varian and Hook Foot was shoehorned in as his replacement at the last minute. And it’s the most utterly baffling creative decision I have ever witnessed in my life. There was zero logical reason for it.

This Plot Point Wasn’t Built Up Enough and It Goes Nowhere

Look, had they actually pointed out that Cass is a bodyguard now, and that this line from Raps threatens her career goals, that would make sense; or they could have explored the idea that Cass’s identity revolves around her job, and so feeling like her job is pointless makes her feel pointless therefore making her feel insecure about her future. Either of those would have been interesting jumping off points for her character arc and later conflicts.

But that’s not what they did.

I think that’s what they were initially trying to go for here, but it got muddled in the mess that was last minute rewrites.

Cass obtaining her goals in season one is ignored in favor of a bland and vague validation goal from this point onwards. Her issues with Rapunzel are then boiled down to be about; not identity, agency, class, or wanting a future, but into fighting over a dead mom and how one wasn’t ‘loved enough’ apparently. Which makes no sense given what we know of Cass from previous seasons.

Cassandra isn’t deep or complex; she is convoluted. The writing team couldn’t agree on what her goals and motivations should be, and so she performs conflicting actions throughout the story that actively undermines what was previously established and what she supposedly wants.

Most people who try to defend the writing for Cassandra do so with this idea that because they had to work hard to ‘connect the dots’ for all these seemingly disconnected plot ideas, means that of course the writing is ‘deep’ but that’s ignoring one of the basic fundamentals of writing.

The audience shouldn’t have to do the writer’s job!

Having to think about a story doesn’t mean that you need to go digging around for basic information like the character’s goals or what happened when. A writer’s job is to first and foremost clearly communicate ideas to their audience. Plot and character analysis is about finding extras like, metaphors, moral messages, and coming up with fun headcanons that don't impact the wider story. Because all of the bare bones information needed to understand the story should already be there for everyone to see.

If you gotta go into ‘analysis’ just explain the damn plot and why things are unfolding the way they do, then the story is badly written. Full stop.

Cinderella wanting to go to the ball is a simple goal, but it’s an understandable one that anyone watching can grasp. You could go into a deeper analysis about abuse and what the ball symbolises for Cinderella’s character or how the story is an analogy for wider social issues at large, but at the end of the day everyone needs to be in agreement that, yes, Cinderella wants to go to the ball and we know why she wants to go, so that her actions in trying to get there make sense.

No one knows what Cassandra wants. Cassandra herself doesn’t know what she wants. So the ‘why’ part for what she does is never answered.

Hector Is Wasted

As already stated, all of the Brotherhood is wasted, but Hector more so than most. Season two desperately needed an ongoing threat, a main antagonist to push the story forward. Hector should have been that antagonist. Instead he shows up for this one episode, and then in a few non-speaking cameos in S3.

Then Why Not Just Stay With Them Adira?

We’re never given an actual reason for why Adira keeps leaving the group, and indeed doing so conflicts with her stated goal of getting Rapunzel safely to the moonstone. It’s just shoehorned in here to create ‘mystery’, but mysteries have to be answered at some point. You can’t throw something in for drama’s sake and not explain why it’s there.

Lance’s Crush on Adira Isn’t Handled Well

Look, this isn’t a judgment upon those who ship the characters. When I talk about relationships in the show I’m only talking about how well they are written on screen. I couldn’t care less what the fans do with them.

Even when I discuss my personal preferences for ships, that is all that is, my personal preference. I don't give a shit if you ship something that I may dislike, or if you hate something that I do enjoy. I’m a grown up with more important things to do than worry over what a bunch strangers may write on A03 about a bunch of fictional characters, and as someone who hates bullies above all else, I’ll defend your right to make whatever content to want to because censorship is just a form of bullying and nothing else.

No matter how gross or reprehensible I may personally find it. Different stories resonate with different people and for different reasons. I may debate your reasons, if the subject comes up, or critique professional media for the messages it puts out to the wider public, but I’ll never say you can’t like it or that you can’t make it.

So with that stated, I don’t like Lance’s dynamic with Adira in the show and here’s my reasons for that.

She doesn’t ever return the feelings.

At best she tolerates him, at worse she actively kicks his butt when he gets too close, and most of the time she ignores him. Which is for good reason; she’s old enough to be his mom. Why would she be attracted to him?

Like I’m not saying that age gaps between adults are inherently wrong; I’m saying that if there is a significant age gap then you really have to work hard to build up a reason for why the two characters would go for each other when naturally they wouldn’t be in each other’s usual sphere of dating options. Which the series never does because once again Adira is clearly not interested in him.

This leads to Lance basically being an annoying ‘nice guy’ who can’t take a hint. Like constantly badgering someone who doesn’t want you to isn’t charming or endearing, and Lance is old enough to know this by now.

Basically the writers just took the Varian and Cassandra dynamic from Great Expotations and slapped it onto Lance and Adira despite the fact that it made zero sense for their characters. Lance isn’t a lonely teen who desperately wants to fit in and make a connection with someone. He’s not out to prove that he is mature, nor mistakenly believes himself to be an equal to the only other girl in the kingdom that has ever talked to him that isn’t already married/seriously dating and still living at home. Adira never comes around to considering Lance a trusted friend and confidante after shoving nearly everyone else away. She doesn’t seek out his help or approval, nor tries to build him up with compliments, ect, and so forth.

Now, I dislike the Cass and Varian ship for many, many reasons, but as they are presented on screen in the Great Expo it makes sense for why Varian would at first have an unrequited crush on her. Now after that QfaD he logically shouldn’t ever want anything to do with her but we’ll get to that later. That’s not the case with Lance and Adira; they’re both too old for such a dynamic.

To add on to the weird factor, they’re both related to Eugene. Adira is technically Eugene’s aunt, even if she never acts like it. Lance is also the closest thing to a brother Eugene has. They don’t recognize each other as such, so if you want to say their just friends or ship them or whatever, there’s wiggle room. But the end effect is like Maya in Girl Meets World crushing on her best friend’s, Riley’s, Uncle Josh. Only even with less basis, and it wasn’t that great there either.

Why Do you Suddenly Not Trust Adira Cass?

Forest of No Return was all about establishing trust in Adira, including with Cass at the end, so why the sudden back track? Especially since Adira hasn’t done anything but been honest with them, and has saved their butts several times now. All this does is make Cassandra look like an ass, which you don't need to be doing if you want the audience to side with her later on in the story.

Everyone Now Knows Quirin is a Part of the Brotherhood, So There’s No Excuse For Later

It’s an odd way to state that fact, but yeah, both Cass and Raps are told directly that Quirin is in the Brotherhood, and Lance, Eugene, and Hookfoot are also present and presumably listing to this exchange. So no one in S3 has an excuse to ignore this plot point until the finale.

This Backstory Goes Nowhere

Adira launches into this story about Zhan Tiri, Demanitus, and the Great Tree and literally none of it actually matters. It’s never brought up again after this episode. We never get any insight into why they were fighting, how Zhan Tiri corrupted a tree, what significance the tree has outside of being really big and holding some scrolls, nor how the scrolls got there, why the tree is still connect to Zhan Tiri hundreds of years later, nor how Demanitus magic spear works or what it even does exactly.

Don’t introduce lore and then don't have it mean anything.

Why Do you Care, Cass?

Cassandra isn’t a lady-in-waiting anymore. We’ve already established that back in Secret of the Sun Drop and in Beyond the Corona Walls. So why should she care if Adira calls her one? Adira isn’t from Corona. Adira isn’t in charge of anything. Cassandra doesn’t even like her, so Adira’s opinion shouldn’t matter.

This whole season we’ve seen Cass treat Adira like shit, but apparently we’re supposed to feel sorry for her when she can’t take clap back for all the grief she’s given. Is she really so immature that she can’t just ignore a petty insult for what it is? Why does she have to behave so insecure that she will jeopardize the mission or someone’s life over it? This is the deuteragonist I’m suppose to root for and relate to? I mean she’s twenty three for goodness sake! Grow the hell up woman!

Also while we on the subject, a royal guard and a lady-in-waiting are both servants. There’s no distinction between the two beyond what duties they perform, and that would be the case regardless of what job Cass had. Rapunzel’s a princess, everyone is her servant. That’s how the class system works, and by all means Cassandra enjoys more privilege than most people in Corona. She’s the Captain’s daughter, was granted next in line for that position in SotSD, and lady-in-waiting means to the princess means she’s above all the other maids except for Crowley and Friedberg. Cass may hate her job, but she hasn’t room to complain when Faith is right there and has things much worse.

In short making Cass suddenly indignant over being treated as lower class when she didn’t give a crap about the likes of Attila, Caine, Varian, Eugene, Lance, ect... just makes her look like a hypocrite.

The Other Reason to Dislike Lance’s Crush is That It Hinders His Development

Lance’s arc is that he’s suppose to learn to be more responsible. This episode in particular is suppose address his habit of lying... only it doesn’t. We get no real resolvement on this point. We also never see Lance progress enough to give up on Adira and stop pursuing her even when it’s directly pointed out to him that she doesn’t reciprocate his feelings. So in the end he still remains immature and irresponsible.

Though this conversation just proves that Eugene and Lance still have the healthiest relationship in the show. They’re about to disagree or call each other’s bullshit without resorting to insults or getting violent, which is more than what any relationship involving Cass does.

Questions With No Answers

We never learn why these scrolls are here, why they have the incantations on them and upon the wall, we don’t know who translated them, nor who came up with the incantations in the first place.

This is all important info that he series glosses over, because unlike the moonstone and sundrop, the incantations are things that someone had to have made at some point, and they could only have made them by studying what our plot macguffins are and how they work. Since the incantations are things that are also sought after by the big bad along with the magical objects, then we need to know how the big bad knows about them when no one else does. How they came about.

Which is yet another reason why we needed a magic system in place.

This Song is Catchy, But It Doesn’t Need To Exist

In a musical a song needs to either establish the plot, build the world, or further the characters. This song does none of those things, it’s not needed for Lance and Eugene’s relationship, it doesn’t actually resolve Lance’s plot as he is high when he apologizes for lying, and it wasn’t needed to established the man eating plant. I honestly think this song only exists so that the animators could just reuse assets they built to save on money.

The Hurt Incantation Is the Coolest Thing In the Show! Shame It’s Not Utilized Well

People are suckered into this show by one of three things usually, ‘Let Me Make You Proud Reprise’, ‘Ready As I’ll Ever Be’, or this scene.

It’s shocking, powerfull, and a really, really awesome concept. It’s one of the best scenes in the show, and an interesting idea that offers up a lot of story possibilities.

Possibilities that’ll never actually be explored on screen. The hurt incantation isn’t useless, it does affect the plot, but it’s not used effectively. There was so much you could have done with this but it’s then never explored. Characters outright forget its existence even when they have no reason to, or it’s used to do things that should have been accomplished in other ways. It’s also never fully explained or expanded upon. They couldn’t even bother to give it more than one verse.

All of the incantations are mishandled in this show, but the hurt incantation is the one that has the biggest let down.

Conclusion

So that ends part 1, join me tomorrow for part 2.

#tangled #tangled the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #anti-tangled #anti-cassandra #hector #the brotherhood #lance #adira

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goldleafacrossyourlips · 4 years

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Uneasy Lies the Head - CAOS - Dark Lord/OC - Chapter 13[Finale]

Chapters - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

A/N - Thank you for reading! This chapter is clocking in at almost 10000 words alone. So enjoy! If you have any suggestions for another fic or shorts PM me!

Chapter 13 - Finale - Amaryllis and Heliotrope

Warning of Smut and Graphic Violence

Had it really only been less than 24 hours that Lucifer had been able to walk the Earth in his angelic form? That Samara had slaughtered her Mandrake? Samara’s mind whirled at all the sudden changes that had happened in the past few hours. How could a day feel like a lifetime had passed?

She hadn’t been able to continue to admire the throne room as one of Lucifer’s servants swept her away. She was led to a door where she was told to freshen up. Apparently the coronation would need to take place again.

Lucifer had explained quickly that since the aristocracy of his world were not present, the crowning was not valid. He’d gently removed the towering crown from her head, smirking at the pout she’d worn.

Samara cast a longing look at the luxurious bed she saw as soon as she entered the room. The enormous thing was taking up a large portion of the room, covered in smooth looking silks and plush pillows. All she wanted to do was curl up in those sheets and sleep. If the strong, secure arms of her King happened to join her, then all the better.

Heaving a deep sigh, Samara continued through the room to the opened bathroom. Taking a look in the mirror she suppressed a grimace. Her makeup looked great. Her hair on the other hand was a wreck. Her lips pursed as she ran her hands through her hair, smoothing down the flyaways. Her dress wasn’t wrinkled or crimped; she was pleased to note.

She was slow to walk back to the main room, her feet carrying her to the bed. She gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, her hands splaying across the fabric on her thighs. Her eyes took in the room around her. She could tell that this was Lucifer’s room. If not by the sheer presence of his energy that filled the room, then the lingering of his intoxicating scent was what clued her off. Even just this little bit of him that she could sense helped ease her mind. Yet still her thoughts continued to spiral.

Perhaps she should have expected this outcome. She’d heard her family’s reactions to her newfound powers as well as the prophecy. She should’ve taken the clues. But it was her family; she never thought they could betray her as they did.

Samara felt a shiver of fear race down her spine. They had planned on binding her magick, erasing her memory! Who in their right mind would do something like that?! She was familiar with the rituals for binding someone’s magick. There was no guarantee that only certain parts of the witch’s magick would be blocked; more often than not that witch lost their powers completely. On top of all that, Samara could guess the potion that Hilda had planned on using. There were only a small handful of potions that tampered with memory loss. All held the same cautions as the power binding rituals; there was no guarantee what memories were being erased. She could have lost everything. Her family was willing to risk that.

A Shadow wrapping around her ankle caused Samara to surface. Taking stock of the room she realized that everything was now cloaked in darkness. A small smile curled the corner of her lip. She wasn’t surprised to see all of her Shadows darting around the room; with them riled up from not only recent events but also the fear she’d felt from her current thoughts. She reclined back onto the bed, her legs still dangling from the edge. Her eyes slid closed as she sent out a pulse of reassurance to her Shadows. Almost instantly she was consumed.

Her Shadows flew around her, their physical presence like a whisper dancing over skin. They smothered her with their assurance. She felt the ball that had been settled in her chest unravel and fade away.

Perhaps a more typical person would have been appalled at the messages her Shadows sent her. And maybe Samara had thought herself typical, but stepping back and checking herself now, she realized that she was wrong. What typical person would feel relief at the images her Shadows were showing her? Of Hilda and Zelda rushing at her menacingly, one holding a vial, the other holding a book of runes. Before they could touch her, her Shadows swirled up their feet, legs, torsos until they were engulfed in darkness. The Shadows made quick work of them but allowed her to hear their horrified screams and to smell the penny-copper of their blood. What typical person would find comfort in the vision of Sabrina, eyes glowing white and hovering in the air, ready to use her ramped up powers against her; only for the girl to find herself quickly pinned to the floor, Samara’s shadows swarming her like maggots in a festering wound? Like Hilda and Zelda before, Samara could hear her screams and pleas and scent rust and metal.

What typical person would be pleased by any of that? Not a normal person. And Samara knew she wasn’t typical. The thought cementing in her head as she felt herself melt into the bed at the comfort her Shadows were bringing her.

Lucifer might have gifted her with the Shadows when she was still a fetus, but over time they had become hers. Nothing short of losing her powers could separate them from one another. Even then, Samara thinks her Shadows would still be with her, she just wouldn’t be able to sense them as easily.

“Well, this looks cozy.” Lucifer’s tone was teasing. Samara peeked one eye open at him. Through the darkness surrounding her she could see him leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

“They were worried.”

“I figured the sudden brightening of every room had something to do with you as most Shadows fled.” He walked towards the bed, her Shadows parting around him like hydrophobic sand in water. As he sat next to her, her Shadows dissipated, returning to the edges of the room. They trusted Lucifer to watch over her. Samara sent a pulse of gratitude their way, content filling her as she felt Lucifer do the same.

“The past few weeks have been filled with change and unease. They’re tense, upset.” Samara remained laying back as she spoke, her eyes flitting around the room as she watched her Shadows dance. Her gaze snapped up to Lucifer as he brushed a strand of hair back, his hand cradling the side of her head.

“I dare say that they are not the only ones upset. Much has happened to you so recently. A time I planned to have filled with joy and admiration has since been muddled with betrayal and sorrow. I hope you can one day forgive me, my flower.” His voice was soft, his eyes even softer. Samara would bet that few had ever witnessed the Dark Lord be so gentle; even fewer hear him ask for forgiveness. She reached a hand up, her thumb stroking his defined cheekbone, her finger trailing to trace his ear.

“There’s nothing to forgive. The only ones in charge of their actions are the people in question themselves. My hurt will pass in time. That still doesn’t negate from the content and happiness I feel that I’m here. With you.” Samara smiled as his eyes slipped closed as she continued to trace delicate patterns onto his skin.

“We must work on your overwhelming mercifulness, My Queen. But not towards me. Never towards me. I intend to take every bit of your mercy for myself. Let the rest fend for themselves.” He hummed, slowly leaning down towards her. His hand slipped down and below, cupping her neck. He gently raised her by his hold, bringing her up towards him. Just as she felt his breath tickle her lips, a knock rattled the door. Fire licked inside her at the displeased growl that rumbled his chest.

“Your Majesty? They’re ready for you.” A timid voice spoke from outside.

Samara grinned at the heavy sigh that escaped the man holding her. Darting up she pressed a quick peck to his lips, dancing up and away before he could catch her. His narrowed eyes caused a giggle to escape her. She took in his form as he stood, her eyes roving up and down. A snap from his fingers and she felt her hair and dress smooth out.

She was running a hand down the front of her dress, her eyes following it’s path, double checking that there were no wrinkles when she felt his hand grasp the back of her neck. He pulled her forward by his hold, forcing her head to tilt up. Her core clenched at the fire flickering in his gaze. Once again he leaned down, but this time it was to speak nearly against her lips.

“Soon, My Samara; you will not be able to escape my grasp so easily, nor will you want to.” Despite the heat flaring in his words, the kiss he pressed to her lips was soft and gentle. She began to press back, her body stepping towards him but his fingers tightened the grip he had, forcing her to stay still. Disappointment flooded through her as he pulled back.

“Come. We have a crown to place on your head.” He released her neck and extended his hand towards her. She released a soft huff before setting her hand in his.

Unlike before, the guests of this coronation were unmasqued. Samara took in every demon she could see, their odd features all prominent. Also unlike before, there were many many more people.

Samara stayed at Lucifer’s side as he led them through the throne room. The demons and other beings parted a path for them, bowing and curtsying as they passed. She could feel the thrum of anticipation and unholy glee in the air. Samara could only guess why the crowd was so pleased. Perhaps they had never expected their King to take a Queen. She wondered how they would take to her Ruling.

He was quick to lead them up the stairs to where the thrones sat. Their thrones. Near identical to the ones that had been at the Academy. The only difference being these two seemed larger, more menacing. Power seemed to radiate from them like a heady cloud. Maybe the thrones themselves weren’t radiating the power though. Perhaps it was just the lingering of Lucifer’s own powers saturating a place he spent much time in.

Samara hardly noticed as the crowd’s quiet murmurings silenced. She did, however, feel their eyes devour her as Lucifer helped seat her in the more curved throne. As he did earlier that night, his thumb swept across her knuckles as she sat down. She made sure to send a grateful smile his way before he parted from her. This time her crown was held by a mouthless demon. Curiosity quirked inside her. Why did this demon have no mouth? She’d noticed that most of the demons in positions of servitude were much like that one; mouths, eyes, noses, ears were all missing in different variations. She’d make sure someone explained it to her.

Her thoughts were paused as Lucifer stood before her again, the golden glinting crown secure in his hands. Her eyes slipped closed as the warm metal was placed on her head once again. Just like earlier that night, the feeling of right, mine, power echoed through her.

Unhesitantly Samara slid her hand into the one Lucifer had extended towards her, helping her rise once again. Still, the congregation beneath them remained silent. There was a heaviness to the air this time that wasn’t there before. At the front of the crowd below, stood three demons more lavishly dressed than the rest. She could only assume they were the Kings of Hell. Their presence was a necessity to her coronation Lucifer had explained. They would make sure her status was upheld and spread in Hell.

“My loathsome subjects, I gather you here today to celebrate the crowning of a new Ruler. I present to thee, Samara Spellman. Proud lady of Pandemonium, Maiden of Shadows, and Queen of Hell! Hail Samara!” Lucifer’s voice echoed through the silent hall. She could feel his power pulsing from him, a cloak-like feeling settling around her.

“Hail Samara! Hail Satan!” The congregation below crowed. While the glamoured crowd earlier in the night had chanted the same words, the group chanting now held jubilation and anticipation in their words. Samara felt any unease that had been settled on her shoulders evaporate. No doubt she’d still have a few hiccups from some demons and others testing her boundaries but it was nice to know that there were no immediate protests.

“And now, we shall dance to the Mephisto Waltz, as Queen and King.” The music that started up was similar to what had played during their dance earlier. It was heavier this time, darker, more resolute. Samara’s hand was held tightly in Lucifer’s as they quickly descended the stairs. The crowd parted for them once again, this time leaving the center of the room clear.

It was as easy as breathing, assuming the positions they’d held before. Her waist cradled in his grasp, her hand resting on his chest, his hand leading them through the steps. The air between them crackled, not just from the want that seemed to flare any time they were together, but from an intimacy. Samara could tell from Lucifer’s gaze that their dance was different this time. The steps and tune might all be the same but the magick and power surrounding them now was different. It continued to build with each step they took, blaze increasing with every spin she made.

“You can feel it too.” His voice was a whisper, nearly as soft as his gaze. Samara’s eyes couldn’t break away, nor did she want to. The fingers on his chest drummed gently as she hummed in assent. “This is how it should have gone. Our subjects in awe as our powers grow and meld. All watching as their Queen came to be.”

Now that he’d said it she could pinpoint what was going on. Before, she had been able to feel the difference but not exactly what it was. Now, she could tell. Lucifer’s power was vast, unending, all consuming. It was a seductive darkness that crooned and devoured. She’d been able to feel that from the moment she’d met him. But now, she could feel it swirling around her, not just in protection as it had done earlier. Now she could feel her own power surge up to meet him. Swirling and dipping and twisting and turning. Where one went the other followed. To take and taste and touch and have. It continued as their dance did. Until she could no longer tell where her power began and his ended. Until it all felt like one. Changed, the same, different and similar.

She felt drunk off the power that swirled around them. Her eyes raised from the delicate patch of skin exposed at the base of his throat that she hadn’t realized she’d been eyeing. Lucifer’s eyes were glazed over, no doubt from the same heady surge that was rushing through her.

No longer were either one of them consciously in charge of the steps they were taking. The dance was controlled by instinct and intuition.

They twirled faster and more grandiose as the music reached a crescendo. Her body pressed closed to his, swirling out under his arm to be quickly tucked back in. Only to come to an abrupt halt as the last, echoing note reverberated through the room.

Samara came back to herself. Her body dipped low to the floor, the ends of her curls brushing the marble. Her crown steady on her head. Her hand splayed on Lucifer’s neck, her other grasped tightly in his own. The small of her back held securely in his arm. His eyes sparkled in triumph and smug pleasure as he looked down at her. A smile broke through her lips. She was quick to crane her head up, his arm tightening and bringing her body the rest of the way to be flush against him, still dipped down.

Their lips clashed together, adrenaline coursing through her; their shared power smothering them. She bit his lips open, working her way inside. The taste of him, electricity and promise would haunt her to the end of her days. She’d never get enough. His hummed moan something she wanted to listen to for days on end.

It was easy to forget that they were surrounded by a crowd. It was too easy to just get lost in him. But Lucifer was a skilled man. And cruel she thought briefly as he pulled away from her.

His eyes were near black with desire; not only from the power exchange but their heated kiss as well. He was a stronger person than she as he stepped away, releasing her from his hold. He bowed, to which she curtsied. As soon as their social decorum was finished, her hand was once again ensnared by his.

Immediately as soon as her hand met his once again, the crowd around them roared in cheer. Samara shared a grin with her King. He began helping her back up towards their thrones as the music started back up. Now was the time for their guests to enjoy themselves. After all Hell was a place for indulgence.

A servant was quick to offer her a glass of red wine as she was seated in her throne. She accepted it as she tilted her head, watching Lucifer sit regally upon his own throne. Still their hands remained intertwined on the arm rests.

“Now My Queen, all is as it should be. You upon your throne. Our subjects celebrating down below. Us side by side together.” Lucifer’s silky words met her ears. She hummed softly as she sipped her wine.

“Perfect.” Even as she answered, her thoughts flashed images of her family and their betrayal. Her mood threatened to sour but was diverted as Lucifer squeezed the hand he held.

“Do not let thoughts of earlier spoil Our night, my flower.” While his words held some demand in them, she could tell he only meant for the best. She shot a small smile at him, squeezing his hand back.

“Like I said earlier, it will take some time but it will fade. Besides, I plan on sitting here with you and enjoying our evening.” Her words rung with promise. A promise to herself to try to not let what happened earlier rain down on her mood.

Feeling mounting anticipation and dark glee swirling within Lucifer, she shot him a questioning look. A grin was directed her way before he answered.

“Perhaps I have something that would lighten your thoughts once again.” His tone was suggestive. Samara chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Besides, what kind of King doesn’t gift His newly crowned Queen something the night of Her coronation?” He gestured one of the servants forward, whispering into his ear. The demon scurried off down the stairs.

“Lucifer, I don’t have any gift for you though.” Samara worried her lip between her teeth, her brow creasing. The Dark Lord released her hand, reaching up to release her lip from its prison. He ran a soothing thumb along the abused flesh.

“Trust me when I say my gift from you will be watching what’s to come.” He whispered, a smirk pulling at his lips. Samara’s eyes narrowed at him in question.

Her attention was pulled towards the crowd below them once again as they became hushed. She saw as they watched two figures at the doors. The servant Lucifer had sent away was now back, tugging along another beside him. The second person was cloaked in ragged, ripped, sweaty attire with a black sack covering their head.

The servant guided his guest to the center of the room, kicking their legs and forcing them to kneel. Samara turned to look at Lucifer, who was leaning forward in his seat. With a kiss to her knuckles he stood, a tug from his hand having her join his side. He guided them to stand at the railing, resting their still entwined hands on the warm marble. Their guests silenced at the new position their King and Queen held. Which made it all the easier for Lucifer’s words to echo in the room.

“Now for tonight’s entertainment! I present unto My Queen, a gift, for her coronation. May it help make this night even more memorable.” His voice boomed around them. With a nod of his head, the servant ripped the black sack off the unknown person’s head. Samara felt herself freeze.

“Did I not promise you, My Queen? Did I not say that he’d be dealt with? I can think of no sweeter revenge than for you to take him in hand now. To do with him as you please. And when his physical body tires, his soul can go wherever you direct. To keep him as a plaything for your frustrations forever more.”

Now she understood why he’d been feeling so giddy. She squeezed his hand gently before letting go. She trailed her finger along his back and she walked behind him, to descend the stairs. Her steps were slow and echoed with each click. She could feel the eyes of not only her King but their subjects as well as they tracked her every move. All too soon her journey was done, her feet carrying her to the trembling man knelt before her.

Faustus Blackwood stared up at her, terror and rage intermingling on his face. She could only imagine how he felt. Forced to kneel before a girl he’d once tried to molest. Kneeling before someone from a family he loathed. The knowledge alone, that she was now his Queen, must’ve been eating him up inside.

Her memories began overtaking her again. Not so much the images of what once happened, but rather the emotions. The all consuming fear and sorrow she’d felt when he’d tried to take her in his office. The rage and loss she’d experienced when she’d learned Zelda was to marry him. How he’d taken so much from her. Her sense of security, her community, her family, her home! But Samara was many things, and thoughtlessly cruel was not one of them. She’d extended mercy to almost everything she’d known at least once. Perhaps that’d be how she’d Rule. Merciful to an extent, then she could let the cruelty that’d been buried down deep out to play.

With those thoughts in her head, Samara stared Blackwood in the eyes as she slightly bent at the waist to bring her face level with him. Still she could see the fear and anger swirling within him.

“I hold no fond feelings for you. In fact, I couldn’t care less if Witch-hunters came along and burnt your body to a crisp. However, I’ve been told I’m a merciful Queen so far. So. I’ll give you an ultimatum. Bow down, kiss my feet, beg for your life like the pathetic useless worm that you are, recognize me as your Queen and you’ll walk out of this room alive and well. I’ll assure it. Or do nothing, and I can’t promise for your well-being.” Her words were firm. She could feel the surprise that rang through her King. No doubt he’d expected her to fly into a rage as soon as she’d seen Blackwood. But she’d never been like that. No, Zelda had taught her to be rational. So here she was, being rational. An ultimatum. Ultimately, Blackwood’s fate was in his own hands. Which he chose swiftly.

She heard him before she felt it. Hot saliva trailed down her cheek, her eyes closed from the startling action. She heard the crowd around them gasp and curse, getting worked up. White hot rage pulsed behind her from Lucifer. She sent a soothing pulse back, not wanting him to interfere.

“I’ll die before I bow before any Spellman; much less the mutt they took in.” Blackwood bit out. Samara hummed as she delicately wiped the spit off her face with her hand. Using the soiled hand, she ran it over his face, wiping off the wetness before grasping his chin. Her sharp nails dug into the hollows of his cheeks.

“A mutt I may be. But you will die with the knowledge that I, Samara Spellman, am your Queen. In a position of power you could only dream to be in. And now, for eternity, you will suffer under my direction, my instruction and my will. So mote it be.” She snarled out, her nails causing drops of blood to appear on the skin they pierced before releasing him and stepping back.

Pleasure curled within her at the startled gasps and shouts she heard. Her Shadows had been creeping in closer and closer as she’d stood before Blackwood. Now, they gathered at the bottom of her dress, blurring it with darkness. Some climbed up her back, flaring out behind her in a mockery of wings.

She took satisfaction as all colour drained from Blackwood’s face, his trembling increasing.

She could feel the eagerness that swelled and swirled within her Shadows. It’d been so long since they’d been able to cause any real violence. And to have a subject that’d caused her fear and pain, they were all the more ready to pounce. They twisted and writhed around her, climbing up and leaping off her body, hurtling to the floor but not touching the man knelt before her. Not yet.

Tilting her head back, her eyes slipped closed. Samara could feel them pleading with her. Their thirst for blood and violence nearly overwhelming. Their whispers of safety and promise caressed her ears. A smile played on her lips. Inhaling deeply, she slowly breathed out as she once again looked at Blackwood. His utter terror caused a malicious grin to grow.

All at once she grabbed the walls she’d held in her mind. The ones she built to help control her Shadows. To stop them from mindlessly causing violence. She gripped those walls, and proceeded to rip them to shreds. Directing all her ire towards the man before her, she made sure the only thing her Shadows would maim was the worm. And maim they did.

At feeling the gates she’d used to contain them vanish, there was a moment of utter stillness. All Shadows in the room stood still for a beat. This type of freedom was unusual to them. It caused an unnatural lull in its movement. Any warmth in the room was instantly sucked out, breath able to be seen in condensation clouds.

Then, they descended. To the guests it was impossible to see what was happening. But they could hear the agonized wails of a man in pain; a man in fear for his own life. Shortly after the screams started, the overwhelming scent of penny-copper emanated from the darkness at the center of the room. Hot crimson blood began splattering from the darkness, striking guests and marble alike. They might not have been able to see what was happening, but they could make a well-educated guess.

Samara, on the other hand, had no trouble seeing through her Shadows. She watched, as they dove from every corner and crevice of the room around her towards the kneeling worm. He wasn’t kneeling for very long. They lifted his body up, tossing him around like a tissue in the wind. Up was down, left was right, she could only imagine how disorienting it’d be. They’d lift him high then let him hurtle back towards the marble, smacking his flesh off the now cold floor.

When they’d had their fun tossing him around, they began a new game. While her Shadows were often able to be walked through, untouchable; they could become physical if they wanted, as solid as a hand. Now, she watched as they morphed themselves into infinitesimally miniscule spikes. Then they began racing along the cloth and skin of Blackwood. Almost instantly blood welled up in their wake. Blackwood screeched and swung his arms. Attempting to fight off an attacker he’d never be able to touch. Millions upon millions of little spikes wrecked havoc upon his flesh causing an unidentifiable amount of lacerations. None of the wounds were especially deep though. Each cut placed to cause as much pain as possible.

Samara felt irritation grow as his screams turned to curses and eventually begging. Sending a brief thought to her Shadows, she felt a smirk curl her lip as they were quick to comply.

They pried his mouth open, his words slurring. They worked in tandem. Some to keep him still. Some to keep him facing her. Some to hold out his tongue. And finally, some to rip out the squirming appendage. His screams turned to shrieks. But no words left his lips, she noted, pleased.

Finally, her Shadows moved on to their last act. With blood covering the outside of the man, they wanted to see the rest inside. Quickly her Shadows entered whatever orifice they could find. They smothered themselves inside the body that’d caused her so much trouble. They kept going and going and going and going. All too soon or maybe not soon enough, they began razing. No part inside the man was left uscathed. They rampaged around inside his body, slicing, burning, ripping and tearing anything they could. Samara watched as they ripped around inside and then tore themselves out. Only to enter from the new hole to do it all over again.

His screams finally stopped but not before she could meet his eyes. She connected with his tear and terror filled eyes. She could tell he was begging her to get them to stop. Her only response was a quirked brow. She’d given him a choice and he’d made one.

Eventually her Shadows retreated, going to the corners they came from. Some nudged her back, stopping the puddle of ever-growing blood from reaching and staining her feet. She looked down at the still husk before her, apathy overtaking her features. Silence reigned around her. Shock present in all of their auras. She could even feel the shock Lucifer held. He didn’t expect her Shadows to cause damage like that. A chuckle threatened to escape her. However it was halted as she caught movement below her.

Blackwood’s soul crawled from his mangled corpse. With a snap of her fingers a collector was at her side.

“Take him away for now. I’ll let you know what I want done with him at a later date.” Her tone was short as she gestured below. The collector was quick to drag the soul out by his hair. Blackwood was still reeling from the remnants of what had happened, and therefore didn’t feel the further abuse.

Samara hummed before turning around and facing her King. She tilted her head back to look him in the eye as he stared down at her from the railing. She sent a pulse of satisfaction, gratefulness and finality towards him. Sure, it was a lot to send at once but her King was smart, he’d figure it out. She was finished for the night. She was ready to return to their chambers.

She watched as he quickly descended the stairs, joining her at her side. He raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on her skin. His eyes belied the raging want swirling within him.

“Let this be an acknowledgment from you all. Your new Queen may seem merciful. But rest assured Her cruelty can know no bounds.” He bellowed, not that their guests had even whispered anything, silence still reigning around them. “We thank you for joining us for tonight’s events. Please, enjoy the festivities but your Queen and I will be retiring for the night.”

With her hand held in his, he escorted the both of them out of the room, passed the bowing and kneeling guests. Neither spoke a word to the other as he led her towards their room. But the air between sparked with words unsaid and lingering intimacy.

Perhaps in another world Lucifer would’ve ushered her into their room and crowded her up against the door. Ravishing her there. And perhaps in another world she would’ve greatly welcomed it. But that didn’t happen in this one. Instead, he guided her into their room. She could feel that he wanted her. He wanted to do what she’d imagined, but he didn’t. While he might’ve been aroused and heady with desire, she wasn’t. She’d just watched a man she’d loathed be tortured to death. There was no way in Heaven she’d be able to feel desire tonight.

Instead, he gathered her into the lavish bathroom from earlier. With a snap of his fingers the oversized tub was filled with steaming water and amaryllis petals. He’d also divested the both of them of their clothes, she noted.

He entered the tub first, leaning back against the side with his long legs stretched out. He held a hand out to her. She could see the desire in his eyes as he visually devoured her bare body, but she could see his restraint too. For that she was glad.

She was quickly settled resting back against him. He stroked a wet hand through her hair, a soothing hum building in his chest. She ran gentle fingers down his thighs that were bracketing her body.

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft, not wanting to break the intimate atmosphere around them.

“I did make a promise to you. It was magnificent, by the way. Your wrath.” He rumbled, his chest vibrating along her back. She hummed and leaned her head back against his chest.

“Mmm. Hopefully you’ll never be on the receiving end of it. You don’t think it was too much?” She tilted her head to the side to peer up and back at him. He fixed his eyes onto hers.

“It was a sight they needed to see. No doubt they’d have thought you weak. A meer witch. Had they not seen your display. Now, they’ll be much more inclined to listen to you.” He explained, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. She hummed once again, settling back against her King. If this was her first day as Queen, she was interested to see what the rest held for her.

Waking in the arms of her King was a new experience. One that she was looking forward to repeating for all of eternity. What was strange was not seeing the sun rise. She knew that there was sun in areas of Hell. But here in Pandemonium there was no sunlight. A part of her was eager to explore Hell and see what this realm had to offer.

The arms that encased her waist briefly tightened, pulling her forward and flush against the bare chest she rested on. A low hum met her ears as she tilted her head up.

“My Queen.” His words were laced with content and possessiveness. She ran a hand up his bare flank to rest on his pectoral beside her face, fingers stroking the skin there.

“My King.” She whispered the words. Hearing him inhale deeply, an overwhelming sense of fondness squeezed inside her chest. Lucifer, while not a good man, was good to her. She looked forward to what forever held for them. She turned her head to press soft kisses to the bare skin before her.

Feeling his hand trail up along her bare back, she shivered as she realized they were both still unclothed. She’d fallen asleep during their soak and Lucifer had deemed it unnecessary to clothe either one of them as he put them to bed apparently.

His hand was quick to clasp the back of her neck and drag her up his body. His free hand continued to stroke meaningless patterns along the expanse of her back, minute trembles of her skin followed his fingers.

Now that she was closer, she could see the blatant hunger that shone in his eyes. With a small grin, she craned herself the rest of the way forward. Their lips met in a series of searing, wanting caresses. She trailed her hands up his body until they rested on his shoulders. Their kiss quickly careened into more heated territory. Teeth catching flesh, battling to see who would yield first.

Samara hummed before she began moving. Never parting her lips from her King’s, she braced her hands against his shoulders and quickly straddled her legs along his torso. His hand that had been running along her back ran down to grip the outside of her thigh, his fingers digging into the flesh. A soft sound escaped her, her lips finally parting from him for a moment. Their harsh breathing filling the room.

Before Lucifer could do anything, Samara’s head ducked down. Now trailing soft, heated kisses starting from the corner of his lips across his jaw to down along his neck. She felt as both his hands now gripped her thighs, moans rumbling in his chest. Absently she recognized as his hands began crawling up towards her waist. She was still too busy pressing her lips to his exposed skin. Now at the hollow of his throat, a wicked thought crossed her mind. Quick as a flash her sharp teeth snagged the delicate skin and bit down. She heard his tortured groan before the world flipped.

Feeling the bedsheets and pillows at her back now, she blinked up at Lucifer. He now hovered over her, her legs now wrapped around his torso, his one hand gripping her waist, the other hand pinning her shoulder down. She grinned up at him, licking away the taste of blood on her lips. She watched in delight as crimson trickled down from his throat.

“Naughty little Queen. Perhaps a vampire has come and replaced my darling witch.” He rumbled, leaning down and silencing the giggles that were escaping her. She raised her arms and twined them around the back of his neck.

In the blink of an eye her arms were wrenched away, his hands pinning her wrists above her head. She narrowed her eyes at him as he leaned back once again.

“Ah ah, naughty Queens don’t get to touch. Keep your hands there for me, will you my flower.” He demanded, a smirk curling his lips as she pouted. She huffed but nodded her head.

He went to work quickly. His hands trailed down her arms as he began moving back. His head leaning down to lavish her throat with scorching presses of his lips. His hands continued down, stopping as he gripped her waist. He raised his hands a bit, able to slowly swipe his thumbs along the delicate skin under her breasts.

Her panting breath filled the room with sound as she clenched her hands into fists. He’d told her to keep her hands there, and dammit she was going to try.

Her back arched slightly as his mouth trailed lower, going along the flesh of her sternum down to the valley between her breasts. He pressed a final kiss there before as quick as a snake ensnared her one nipple in his unforgiving mouth. His hand palmed her free breast, stroking the skin and pinching the little bud.

A sharp moan escaped her lips as he deliciously tortured her sensitive flesh. His sharp teeth lightly worried the hardened bud he had captured. Pulling back he admired the now darkly flushed skin, running a finger along it, flicking it as he went. Another moan left her as he ducked down again, this time to leave quick little nips at the sensitive underside of her breast. Her legs tightened around him, her hands twining in the pillows they rested on. She felt him chuckle along her skin.

“You are being a very good girl, my sweet. And good girls get rewarded. Now, let me get my answer to a question I’ve had since we’ve met. Do you taste as good as you look?”

He abandoned his ministrations he’d held on her breasts. His hands lingering as he began kissing lower. Down the middle of her stomach before stopping just above her soaking core. He gripped her thighs once again in a bruising grip, his nose tucked along her neatly trimmed curls.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she heard him inhale deeply, a flush racing down her body. Only to snap open at the guttural growl he released before he dove in. And really there was no other way to describe it as diving in. She’d barely had time to twitch before his arms were pinning down her hips and his mouth sealed on her core. His tongue traced a torturous pattern on her heated flesh, dipping in and tasting her arousal. Her hands flew to tangle in his hair, her back arching off the bed as his lips and tongue found her little button. She felt herself leak more arousal, her hips unconsciously trying to twist away from the onslaught he brought against her sensitive litte core. He was unrelenting, his arms tensing and pinning her, unallowing her a chance to escape. Her moans filled the room as she tugged at his hair, her thigh trembling. He pinned her down just as easily with one arm as he’d done both. He brought his free hand down to join him by his mouth. His fingers trailed along the slickened flesh, before finding where he wanted them to be and began slowly pushing in. She felt herself flutter along his thick finger, not feeling any discomfort until he began pressing in more fingers. She hummed and tugged at his hair, his tongue beginning another attack on her little button. With three of his fingers caressing hidden places inside of her, she felt as electricity began racing down her spine. Her moans grew in pitch and her back arched off the bed as he increased the intensity of his onslaught. White-hot pleasure erupted inside her, her core clenching around his fingers, more arousal leaking from her, her thighs squeezing around him.

She collapsed back against the bed, gasping breath. She felt him pepper kisses along her thighs and lower belly. She ran an apologetic hand through his hair, no doubt her grip had gotten unreasonably tight.

“If feasting upon you was to be my only purpose for the rest of my days, I’d spend that time in ultimate bliss.” His words made her chuckle softly, stroking a hand down his chest. He looked beyond appetizing; skin flushed, his lips still wet from her arousal, hair a riot.

“Who am I to stop you?” She teased, her feet resting against the bed but her legs still parted around his body. He shot her a wicked grin before climbing his knees closer. Their lower bodies nearer now. Anticipation shot through her as he palmed her hip, stroking the skin there.

“Now, my little witch, let me have what I’ve dreamed of since I’ve seen you blossom into the young beauty you are. Let me have you.” He murmured, staring into her eyes. Samara felt her cheeks heat once again but nodded her assent. His pleased hum caused her to flush even further.

His free hand reached down to help guide his member to her core. He kept their eyes locked together as he began pressing in. Samara’s lip was captured between her teeth as he continued slowly. The feeling was unusual, of being filled and stretched. Some pain threatened to drain her arousal but a twitch of his hand and it was gone. She panted as he continued to press in. It felt neverending. Until finally he stopped. His hips flushed with hers. She felt stuffed to the seams. It was wonderful.

Her head collapsed back onto the pillow, her eyes rolling up into her head as her lips parted to release another moan. Taking this as encouragement, Lucifer began pulling back, only to quickly glide forward once again. A punched-out moan ran from her lungs. She’d never felt like this before. Full and whole and pleasure coursing through her veins.

She could feel as their power grew around them again, much like during their Waltz the night before. Sex magick was a powerful thing. But it was different than that. More than that. This was more than just their power mingling together and complementing one another. Now, it was merging to become one.

Her hand fluttered down, trembling, looking for his. Delighted she felt as he quickly grabbed hers, sensing how overwhelmed she felt. Both his hands clasped hers, his body rising and arching over hers, surrounding her. His lips pressed against hers, his hips starting up a punishing rhythm. He pressed her hands into the pillow on either side of her head, pulling his head back slightly. She took in gasping breaths as he continued on his quest of pounding her into the mattress. Her legs snaked up to wrap around his hips, craving the closeness of his body. She heard him huff before he released one of her hands to reach down and cradle her lower body, suspending that part in the air. Her now freed hand raked claws down his back. She heard him growl in satisfaction, his pace somehow increasing.

“Please please please please.” Her whispered mantra began chanting. She heard him chuckle against her throat that he’d been laving his tongue along.

His hand that had still been pinning hers to the pillows let go, running down until he managed to snake it under her back. Using his new hold he pulled her up as he sat back on his heels. Now seated in his lap, he used his hold on her to start a filthy grind of his hips. Her lips parted in pleasure, her eyes rolling up as this new position caused sparks to zip through her body. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face in his throat, panting in his intoxicating scent.

She felt as his movements grew more frantic, faster. His breath now panting as he seeked his release. She shivered as he snuck a hand down, feeling where they were joined, until he found her little button. He set a merciless pace both with his hips and with his fingers. She felt as her spine began to tighten, the ball of pleasure in her belly growing and growing and growing. When she felt she couldn’t take anymore, she felt the same white-hot pleasure of before erupt inside of her. Her back arched and she strained into Lucifer, her cry of pleasure echoing in the room. She could hear him murmuring under his breath, it took effort to focus on his words. When she realized what he was saying her core clenched even tighter around him. Mine, mine, mine they were whispers along her skin. He continued his onslaught, her body jerking from the overstimulation that wreaked havoc on her body. Finally she felt his movements stutter before a groan escaped his lungs, pinning her body still to his.

Pulling her head back, she looked up into his eyes. An exhausted smile played along her lips before she ducked in and pressed a sweet thankful kiss against his lips. His hand reached up and brushed her hair back, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. She giggled as he tipped them over onto their sides. He held her close, her head once again resting on his chest, listening to the thump of his heart. Her fingers stroked lightly at the skin of his chest. He played with her hair, starting at the roots to stroke through the tousled strands, down her back only to start again.

“My first official decree as Queen is that you are required to do that to me everyday for the rest of eternity.” Her words caused a guffaw of laughter to shake his chest, her head bouncing with the movement. She grinned at his laughter. She looked up at his mirthful face, his eyes sparkling.

“Well, My Queen, while I may be a cruel King, I would never be so cruel as to deny you anything. Consider it written in brimstone.” He murmured as he stroked a finger along her cheekbone before tapping her nose. Her scrunching nose earned her another chuckle.

“Is it always like that?”

“For us, yes. Now, it’s time for naughty Queens to rise and ready. It’s your first day of Court. We have business to attend.” His words were punctuated with a sharp slap to her bottom. Her sharp yelp was more from surprise than actual pain. Still it spurred her up and out of the bed, but not before pressing another kiss to his lips.

Her legs wobbled for a moment before blood rushed down to settle them. As she took slow steps towards the bathroom, she could feel an achiness from the activities they’d just partaken in. She could hear him chuckle behind her, causing her to throw him a sharp look which only increased his amusement.

As she was in the bathroom, she cleaned herself up. A quick look in the mirror showed her the disarray her hair was in, as well as the darkening bruises that trailed down her throat. With a dismayed sigh, she waved her hand and a glamour covered them. Sure she could’ve healed them and made them disappear but what was the fun in that. Plus, it was a naughty little secret she could have, knowing that her King had claimed her and she had physical evidence.

Entering the bedroom once more, she noticed the golden dress laying across the bed. This one more sleek than the ballgown she’d worn last night. Turning to look at Lucifer, who was now dressed in another elegant grandiose golden jacket and pants combo, she gestured towards the dress. He approached her, his eyes slowly trailing along her body.

“As much as I hate to have your delectable body covered, it is nice to see you clothed in such appropriate attire.” With his words he grabbed her hand and spun her quickly towards the mirror, releasing her as she went.

Coming to a dizzying halt at the mirror she went to cast a dark look at Lucifer but was stopped as she realized he’d had the dress appear on her as she spun. Sniffing she turned to inspect herself and the dress. This dress, while more sleek, showed far more skin than the one the night before. The floor-length skirt was half sheer lace; and the sleeves fell from her shoulders, showing off much of her chest. It was more elegant than she’d originally thought. Especially paired with her hair now raising in some elaborate style with her crown resting regally around her head.

“There, fit for a Queen I would say. I fear My Court will be more enamoured with your attention than they could ever cast towards me.” Lucifer’s hands settled on her hips behind, peering into her eyes in the mirror. She leaned back into his embrace, sighing.

“Then I shall endeavor to remain on my best behavior.” While her tone was joking, she still felt nerves race through her. Lucifer’s hands squeezed briefly.

“I can feel your uneasiness, My flower. Trust that I will not lead you astray. Learning all the ins and outs of Court will be easy for you. You’re a natural. Besides, with your little display last night, I won’t be surprised to see a few of mine own lay fealty at your feet.” He assured, turning her in his arms. She ran a hand up his chest, trailing a finger along the exposed skin of his lower throat.

“I trust you.” Her words rang clear throughout the room. She could feel as his triumph and pride swirled around them. He leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead before stepping back and extending his arm.

“Then to Court we go.” At his urging she laid her hand within the crook of his elbow. He made quick work of the twisting hallways. Her head spun at all the turns they made as they went to the throne room.

Finally, they reached the open doors of the throne room. While the room itself looked similar to as it did the night before; now there were rows of seats lining the perimeter of the room, creating an aisle down the center. Each seat was filled with a person of some kind. Closer to the stairs sat the three demon Kings of Hell.

As Lucifer led them down the aisle and towards the stairs, all persons stood and bowed deeply, silence reigning over them. An occasional ‘Your Majestys’ would reach their ears, but was ultimately ignored. As she was led past the three demon Kings, they all three greeted her with a ‘Your Majesty’ and a bow. She inclined her head in acknowledgment before being led up the stairs. Lucifer stopped at the railing in front of their thrones.

She looked out over the sea of neatly lined people as they stared up at her and Lucifer. There was a crowd beginning to form outside the door. No doubt demons and such coming to Court to have their problems fixed.

Not even a month ago, she’d thought herself nothing but an orphan. With a family who loved her and a successful business she’d built from the ground. She had been content with it all. Now, she stood before a people, their Queen. With a handsome and menacing King at her side that cherished her. She’d experienced loss and betrayal at his side sure, but she’d never felt happier. Finally, she felt complete and that she’d found somewhere she belonged. She was exactly where she was meant to be. That she was sure of.

With those thoughts, she slid her hand down from the crook of his arm to settle it on his hand that was resting on the marble railing. She could see the corners of his lips start to curl from her periphery.

“As this is your Queen’s first day of Court, we will be keeping it short. Court is now in session!” Lucifer’s words overtook the silence of the room. Their subjects still stood from their seats. As soon as Lucifer was done speaking, the people down below began chanting.

“Hail Samara! Hail Satan!” The words of the people rang around the room. Samara shot a quick pleased smile up at Lucifer as he turned them towards their thrones. Much like the night before, he helped her to her throne before sitting in his. He kept their hands interlaced over the arms of their thrones.

She watched as someone from the doorway stumbled in, their hands fidgeting with each other as they walked down the aisle. One of the demon Kings rose to meet him. Samara released a pleased sigh, her sound causing Lucifer to raise her hand and press a kiss to the back of it. Meeting his curious gaze, Samara sent a pulse of content and happiness his way. To her pleasure, she was sent back his own wave of pride and happiness. Squeezing his hand she turned her attention back to their subjects below them. Content in the knowledge that yes, she was exactly where she was meant to be.

#caos #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #dark lord #dark lord x reader #dark lord x oc #satan x oc #satan x reader #satan x ofc #Lucifer Morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar x oc #lucifer morningstar x ofc #sabrina #spellman #zelda #Hilda #ambrose

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jrob64 · 4 years

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Devastation and Healing (Chapter 13)

Sergeant Killian Jones has had more than his share of tragedy in his life. When he’s injured in an IED explosion, he’s assigned to a physical therapist named Emma Swan. While she tries to help him heal physically, can they help each other heal emotionally?

Rating: T

Part 14/?

Chapter Summary: Emma & Killian do some soul searching.

Thank you so much for the love you’ve shown for this story! It wouldn’t be possible without my beta @hookedmom, and my friends @kymbersmith-90, @xsajx, & @kmomof4 who encourage me through all my doubts. Of course, special thanks to @captainsjedi for the pic set, which still makes me grin every time I put it up there at the top of each chapter!

Read (or reread!) on Tumblr: Prologue / Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Ch.3 / Ch.4 / Ch.5 / Ch.6 / Ch.7 / Ch.8 / Ch.9 / Ch.10 / Ch.11 / Ch.12 /

Also on Ao3 & ffn

*********

Emma drove home with her thoughts running wild, as tears tracked down her cheeks. She should have known things were going too well. Despite trying to convince herself, and everyone else, that she wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, she was quickly falling for Killian. They had shared some very special moments with each other in the last few weeks.

She fondly remembered their first date, and how he had carefully planned everything. He was always so easy to talk to, and so considerate and sweet. They had many long conversations, and had learned a lot about one another.

She’d felt honored that he wanted her to be at his medal ceremony, and had enjoyed their dinner with David and Mary Margaret afterwards. Then there was the kiss in front of the clinic. Emma sighed as she thought about it, and how she’d wished that it could last forever.

That thought had her mind racing and moving in a different direction. Forever. That was the problem. They’d agreed that they were going to take things slow, but Emma was now aware that she’d begun hoping for something more long term with Killian - much more long term.

She replayed the showdown that Killian had had with Milah the day before. He’d seemed like he wanted nothing to do with her by repeatedly telling her to leave. Yet he still kept her picture, which was confusing. Why was he holding onto something that was a reminder of the woman who had hurt him so badly?

The more she thought about it, the more muddled her thoughts became. By the time she reached her house, she’d decided that she needed some time away. She called Ashley and left a voicemail asking her to cover her existing patients for two or three days, since they would only need to follow their established exercise routines, but to reschedule the one requiring an evaluation.

The next call she made was to her father. “Hey Dad. How are you?”

Marco’s soothing voice, with his own special dialect, came across the line. “I’m good, Cygnet! And how are you?”

Emma smiled at his nickname for her. It was such a small thing, but she remembered when he first started using it soon after she was adopted. For some reason, it had made her feel special - like she was truly part of the family.

“Is it okay if I come home for a few days?” she asked, deliberately avoiding his question.

“Of course it is! Your room is always ready for you! When will you be coming?”

“Tomorrow wouldn’t be too soon, would it?”

“Not at all! I wish it could be even sooner!”

“It could be, if you like. I don’t...I’m not doing anything tonight.”

“Excellent! I’ll be so happy to see you!”

“Do you mind if I bring Evie?”

“I would love to see my grandpup! Is something troubling you, my dear girl?” he asked with a worried tone. It wasn’t like her to visit on the spur of the moment.

“I just...I need a little time away from here.”

“You can stay as long as you like. I’ll have dinner waiting when you get here.”

“You don’t have to bother, I can pick something up on the way,” she responded, even though she knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t feel like she could eat anything with the way her stomach was churning right now.

“Nonsense. It won’t be much, but I’ll be happy to have company. Your brother is rarely home these days since he’s been seeing Claire. Be careful on your drive, my girl. I’ll see you very soon.”

“Okay, see you in a couple of hours, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too, Cygnet.”

She threw some clothes and essentials into one bag, and some of Evie’s toys and her food into another.

Just as she was getting ready to take her puppy outside before they left, her phone started to buzz. She looked at the screen and saw Killian’s name. Her finger hovered over the ‘accept’ button before hitting ‘dismiss’ instead. Then she hooked Evie’s leash onto her collar and took her out, leaving her phone on the kitchen counter.

When she got back inside, she tapped her phone screen and saw that she had another missed call from him, plus a new voicemail, and a text message. She chose not to check either of them, and dropped the phone into her purse. Then she put Evie into her little traveling bag, loaded her car, and left.

*********

Killian knew she was avoiding him. When she didn’t answer his first call, he tried again, leaving a voicemail telling her he was sorry and asking her to please return his call. Then he followed it up with a text.

He felt so stupid. When she’d asked him why he kept that picture, he didn’t know what to say. Why had he kept it? All it did was remind him of someone whom he’d trusted with his heart, and who had shattered it into a thousand pieces. Maybe that was the answer. He didn’t want to forget that trusting someone could lead to pain. But it didn’t have to, did it? He wasn’t so sure. He was just starting to open up to Emma, and now she was gone. Hopefully not for good, but gone all the same.

Her other question had him thinking, too. Did he still love Milah? He could have easily and truthfully told her no, but he hadn’t. It wasn’t because he wasn’t sure. He’d hesitated because he was trying to figure out if he ever truly loved her in the first place. He was sure he knew the answer to that as well.

Killian gave another tug to his hair, which was a mess due to his constant pulling on it ever since Emma walked out the door. Then he picked the picture up off the bed and threw it into the trash can beside the desk.

*********

When Emma arrived at her dad’s house, she climbed out of her car and was immediately pulled into a hug by her father. She let herself absorb his warmth for several long seconds, then stepped back to look into his kind, gentle face.

“Welcome home, Cygnet.”

“Thanks Dad.” She opened the passenger door to get Evie out, while he walked around to the trunk to get her bags. Emma put the puppy’s leash on and let her sniff around the front yard for a while. After the long drive, she knew Evie would need a little time to release her pent-up energy.

Marco came back outside after putting his daughter’s things in her room. He tried to pet the puppy, who was too busy playfully jumping around and spinning in circles to let him. He and Emma both laughed at the little dog’s antics.

When they finally went into the house, Marco got busy making grilled cheese sandwiches, and instructed Emma to get a container of coleslaw out of the refrigerator.

“As I mentioned, it’s not much, but there are cookies Claire baked that we can have for dessert. She’s a sweet girl, and August is happy.”

“He seems to be whenever I talk to him.”

“And how about you, Emma? Are you happy?”

She considered her answer. She could almost be truthful and say yes, since she had been until a few hours ago, or she could be completely truthful. “I’m not sure right now,” she conceded.

Marco placed his hand over hers on the table. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Emma wrapped her fingers around his calloused thumb and squeezed. “Not yet, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. You take all the time you need. I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

Emma enjoyed their simple meal, realizing that her father knew exactly what to make for her. They spent the evening watching DVDs of Marco’s favorite, “The Carol Burnett Show”. Both of them laughed until they were wiping tears at the shenanigans of Tim Conway and Harvey Korman.

When she bid her father goodnight and headed upstairs to her old bedroom, she was grateful that he hadn’t pushed her to talk. Instead, he provided her with several hours of laughter, which was just what she needed.

She set Evie’s crate beside the window seat that Marco had built for her when she was a teenager. As she ran her hand over the cushioned top of it, she remembered all the hours she spent there, reading and dreaming of what her life would be like when she grew up. Some of her favorite books were the ones that ended with “...and they lived happily ever after.”

She sighed as she crawled between the covers of her comfortable double bed. She couldn’t help but wonder if she would ever have her own ‘happily ever after.’

*********

Emma was abruptly awakened the next morning by a pounding on her bedroom door that set Evie off on a barking frenzy. As she was scrambling to get the puppy out of her pen before she hurt herself, August burst into the room.

“Seriously Aug? What the hell? Why can’t you just tap on the door, or better yet, bring me a cup of coffee to wake me up?”

“What fun would that be, Sis? When did you get here, and why are you here?”

“Ugh! Too many questions for this early in the morning! I need to take Evie out before she gives me a reason to have to clean this carpet. She’s way too excited, thanks to you!”

“I can take her out while you get dressed. Dad’s getting breakfast and coffee ready.” He took the pup and left the room.

Emma threw on some yoga pants and a T-shirt, and headed downstairs. She hadn’t slept very well, and was in need of some caffeine.

“Ah! My lovely daughter!” Marco greeted.

“She didn’t act very lovely towards me!” August complained, handing Evie off to his sister.

“That’s because you were being obnoxious, as usual!”

“Kids, kids!” their father chuckled, obviously happy to hear his two children bickering with each other again. “Come, your breakfast is ready.”

Emma was glad that August didn’t ask her any more questions while they were eating. The reprieve didn’t last long though. As they were doing the dishes, he asked, “So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but what brings you home?”

“Can’t I just come and spend some time with my family?”

“‘Of course! It’s just that it was rather sudden.”

“Um, yeah, I just needed to... get away for a little while.” She wiped her hands on the dish towel and dropped it on the counter. “I’m not ready to talk about it right now.”

August placed the plate he had just dried into the cupboard, then pulled his sister into a hug. “Well, I’m here for you, and so is Dad. We love you, Em.”

“I know, and I love both of you too.”

*********

August’s girlfriend came over that afternoon and Emma instantly liked her. She seemed to be a perfect match for her brother, and even joined in when Emma was teasing him. The four of them played cards, but Emma was having trouble concentrating because she kept thinking about the events from the previous day.

“That’s the third trick that you’ve let me take from you, Em,” August said, scooping up the set of cards that he’d just won in the Euchre round.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, about that, Dad,” she apologized to her partner.

Marco chuckled good-naturedly. “I think your mind is somewhere else today, eh Cygnet?”

“Yeah, I guess it is. I’m gonna go get a bottle of water. Anyone else need anything?” she asked, pushing her chair back from the table.

When no one took her up on her offer, she headed into the kitchen. Pulling her phone out of the waistband of her pants, she saw that she had two more missed calls and more messages from Killian. She also had texts from Mary Margaret and Ruby, and a message from Ashley saying that her schedule was covered through Wednesday.

She sent a quick response to both of her friends, telling them that she was staying with her dad and brother for a few days, but didn’t give them any other details. She was tempted to open Killian’s messages, but ultimately decided against it. She locked her phone, then grabbed some water out of the refrigerator and went back to the dining room to rejoin the game.

*********

“I like Claire,” Emma told August after he came back into the house from saying goodbye to his girlfriend. It was late evening, and their father had already gone to bed.

“Yeah, so do I. A LOT!” he grinned.

“I’m glad you found someone, Aug.”

“You don’t really seem like it.”

Emma reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I am happy for you. I just...I thought I had found someone too, but, um... I think I was wrong.”

“Ah, thus the reason you’re here, right?”

“Yeah. I just needed to get away for a while, to do some thinking.” She twisted the cap on and off her water bottle a few times before she started to speak again. “His name is Killian and he’s a former patient of mine.”

“Wouldn’t be the guy with the amputated hand, would it?”

Emma gave him an embarrassed smile. “That’s the one.”

“I know you better than you know yourself!” August teased. “So, do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

She gave him a brief summary of what had transpired between her and Killian the last few weeks, and ended by telling him what happened at his hotel room.

August sat quietly for a while after she finished. She tried not to fidget, because she knew that he was thinking. Finally, he cleared his throat. “It sounds to me like he doesn’t love this woman at all, Emma. In fact, he pretty much sounds like he loathes her.”

“Then why does he still keep her picture?” she asked angrily.

“He’ll have to explain that to you.”

“But he didn’t! I kept asking him and he wouldn’t say anything!”

“Did you give him time, or did you take off before he had a chance?”

“He had time, he just...he just...whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Calm down, Sis! I am always on your side. But I know that when you get upset, you tend to turn and run. He was probably caught by surprise and couldn’t respond quick enough. Do you think maybe it’s possible that he would’ve answered you if you’d given him more time?”

“I felt like I gave him plenty of time!” August quirked an eyebrow at her. “Okay, fine. I probably should have been more patient. But that still doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t give me a straight answer when I asked if he still loves her!”

“Why does he have to come right out and say, ‘No, I don’t love her anymore’? From what you told me about his confrontation with her, he said he didn’t love her numerous times, just not in those exact words. Give the guy a break, Emma. You’re not the only one who’s risking opening up your heart again after it’s been broken.”

Emma began gnawing on her bottom lip, which August knew was a sign that she was contemplating what he’d said. After several long moments, she finally looked up at him.

“Do you think I screwed everything up?” she asked in a small, broken voice.

“Has he tried to contact you at all since you left?”

“He’s tried to call a few times, and he’s left voicemails and texts,” she admitted.

“And let me guess - you haven’t answered any of them?”

Emma’s face reddened. “No. I don’t think I’d know what to say anyway.”

August stood and pulled his sister up into a hug. “It doesn’t sound like he’s given up on you. Stay here and lick your wounds for another day or two while you think about it, but don’t let it drag on for too long. I’m betting that he’s just as miserable as you are.”

Emma nodded but didn’t answer since her throat was clogged with emotion. August released her and kissed her on the forehead.

“Are you gonna be alright if I go to bed?”

She nodded again, and he turned to go. He was almost out of the room when he heard her say very quietly, “Thanks, Augie Doggie.”

*********

The next morning, August briefed his dad on what was going on with Emma. She wasn’t up yet, and they had decided to let her sleep as long as she wanted. August figured that with all the thoughts swirling around in her head, she probably didn’t go to sleep until the wee hours of the morning.

He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but he knew that Marco was worried about his daughter, so he gave him just enough information to fill him in a little bit. He knew that she would talk to their dad eventually, but he wished in times like these that their mother was still around. She always had a way with Emma that calmed her and helped her find solutions to her problems.

After August left for work, Marco stayed in the house instead of heading to his workshop. When he heard Emma stirring around, he prepared a breakfast tray and took it up to her room. Knocking lightly on her door, he waited until he heard her say, “Come in.”

She was still laying in bed, but he could tell that she’d been awake for a while. “I’ve brought you something to eat. I also thought perhaps I could take care of Evie for a while, so you could have some time to yourself.”

“That would be great. I feel bad that she’s had to wait so long to be let out of her pen.”

“Tis only nine o’clock, my dear girl. I’m sure she’s fine, aren’t you little one?” he said while he unfastened the puppy’s cage. Emma laughed as he tried to corral the wiggling, licking ball of fur.

“You take all the time you need today, Cygnet. Rest and relax. All your good friends are still waiting for you.” He nodded at her overstuffed bookshelves.

She bit into a piece of bacon. “Thank you, Dad. I think I’ll put my window seat to use today.”

He beamed at her and gave her a kiss on the cheek the best he could while holding an overexcited puppy.

*********

Emma emerged from her room around 3:30 in the afternoon. She had read, napped, and done a lot of thinking. She’d tried to avoid looking at her phone, but had finally given in and read Killian’s texts. He was pleading with her to give him a chance to explain, and to let him know that she was okay. She felt guilty that she was making him worry for her safety, so she sent him a short message - I’m fine. I just need some time.

She hadn’t listened to his voicemails. She didn’t think that she could handle hearing his voice just yet.

When Emma stepped into the kitchen, she was attacked by a white fur ball. Giggling, she picked Evie up and cuddled her. She noticed the ingredients her father was getting out of the cabinets, and could tell what he was going to prepare for dinner.

“You’re making lasagna!”

“Yes! The noodles are already cooking, and the oven is on. Could you brown that meat for me?”

She set the puppy down and washed her hands before doing as he’d asked. They worked together to prepare one of her favorite meals, and Emma enjoyed the quality time with her father. When August got home, the lasagna, garlic bread and salad were already on the table.

That evening, they all watched a couple of August and Emma’s favorite movies from when they were young. They were in bed by ten o’clock, but as soon as she was alone in her room, Emma’s thoughts started spinning out of control again.

She had received an answer from Killian that simply said, I’m glad you’re okay. Her heart and her head were warring with each other about whether or not she should try to work things out with him. She admitted to herself that she missed him, and she wondered if he missed her, too.

*********

At lunch the next day, Emma finally opened up to her father. “I suppose August told you the reason why I came here,” she said, pushing a green bean around her plate.

“He told me a little about...what is his name?”

“Killian.”

“Ah yes, Killian. He didn’t tell me all of your business, just enough so I would have an idea of what’s going on.”

“He could’ve told you everything, I don’t mind.”

“Maybe it would be better to hear it from you, instead of second-hand?” he inquired.

“Yeah, probably.” She narrated the story to him, as he sat silently, taking it all in. She ended with, “I just don’t know if it’s worth it, Dad. What if I start a relationship with him and end up getting hurt again?”

Marco looked thoughtfully at his daughter for several moments. Then he suddenly stood up and said, “I’m making a cradle for Mary Margaret and David’s little one. Would you like to come help me with it?”

Emma’s brows rose in puzzlement. “Sure?” she said uncertainly, trying to figure out her father’s sudden change in topic.

As they walked toward his workshop, he asked, “Do you remember how you used to come out here and help me when you were younger?”

“Of course. Those are some of my favorite memories.”

They walked through the door and Emma inhaled the familiar smell of wood and varnish. She took a seat on the stool that was always her ‘assigned’ place. Marco walked over to a wall which had numerous pieces of wood leaning against it, and considered his options. Then he selected two pieces, carried them over, and laid them on the bench in front of his daughter.

“I want to use one of these boards to make the headboard for the cradle. Your friend still loves birds, doesn’t she?”

“Yes! She drags poor David along with her to go bird watching at least once a month.”

“Good, good! I’m going to carve birds into this headboard, but first I have to choose the best piece of wood for it. Let’s see if you remember how to make the right choice.”

Emma stood up and carefully looked at each board, turning them over and eyeing them from every angle. She finally picked one up and handed it to her father. “This one.”

“Why did you select that one?”

“Because it’s straight and the grain of the wood is good, without any knots. The other one,” she turned and pointed to the one still laying on the bench, “is a little warped and has two knots in it right where you would be carving the picture.”

Marco smiled and nodded. “That’s right, my girl.” He took the rejected board and tossed it on the discard pile. Then he examined the piece of wood that Emma had chosen. After a minute, he dropped it onto the same pile.

Her jaw dropped. “Wha...what are you doing?”

“Well, that one is rough and it isn’t the shape I want it to be.”

“But you can cut it into the right shape, and sand it down to be smooth! You can’t just throw it away because it’s not exactly the way you want it!”

“Ah, but that would take a lot of time and work. I’d have to be very patient and dedicated to create the headboard. Do you think it would be worth it?”

“Of course it would! That board will be beautiful once you work your magic on it.”

“What I do isn’t magic, it’s hard work. But you’re right - there is wonderful potential in that piece of wood, and it will be lovely when it’s finished. If I wait until I find a board that is perfectly shaped and smooth, I may never find it, so I can take this one,” he retrieved it from the pile, “and with love and care, form it into something special.”

He gazed at his daughter. “Which board represents your relationship with Killian, Cygnet?”

All at once, it dawned on Emma the analogy her father was making. If what she had with Killian was going to turn into something good, they would have to work at it, and have patience to uncover its potential.

Her father gave her a chance to absorb his lesson, then continued, “Do you think that your mother and I started with a perfect relationship? No, it was rough and raw, but we knew that it was worth the work that we had to put into it. If we would have given up at the first sign of trouble, what would have happened? No marriage, eh? No August and no Emma. Do you think that you were worth the time and effort that we put into our relationship?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

“And August, was he worth it?”

“Sometimes,” she grinned.

Marco chuckled. “Only you know if what you and Killian have is worth working for. If the foundation is warped and knotty, no amount of work will fix it or make it better. BUT, if what you have is solid and of good quality, ah then, my dear girl, it can turn out to be a beautiful thing!”

Emma had once told Ashley that her father didn’t know what to say to make her feel better, like her mother always did. Now, she realized that she’d been wrong. He had known exactly what she needed to hear, and at last she knew what she was going to do.

*********

David answered the knock at the door on Tuesday morning. “Hey! How...oh wow, man! You look terrible! What’s going on?” He ushered his disheveled friend into the house and closed the door behind him.

“Sorry, Dave. I guess I shouldn’t have come,” Killian apologized. “I haven’t gotten much sleep the past few nights.”

“Looks like you lost your razor and comb, too,” his friend teased.

“Yeah,” Killian chuckled weakly. “I guess I could claim I lost it in the move, but…”

“Come sit down and tell me what happened.”

Killian followed David into the kitchen and took a seat on a bar stool. David held up the coffee pot and a mug as a silent question, and his friend nodded. Just as he took his first sip, Mary Margaret appeared in the doorway.

“Good morn...oh! Killian, look at you! Are you okay?”

“Have you heard from Emma?” he asked, deciding to get right to the point.

“She texted me a day or two ago to say she was going to stay with her family for a few days. Why? Has something happened between the two of you?”

He nodded. “She was helping me unpack on Saturday, and she found a picture of Milah and me.”

“Ouch!” David commented.

“Why did you still have it?” his wife asked.

“That’s what Emma wanted to know. I didn’t even know what to say. I guess...I guess it’s just a reminder that some people can’t be trusted.”

“I’m sure she wasn’t happy about finding it,” David said.

“She wasn’t. Then she asked if I still love Milah.”

“I hope you told her no! You don’t, do you?” Mary Margaret demanded.

“Of course not! I asked Emma how she could even think that, but she thought I was avoiding the question and not giving her a straight answer. What I was really doing was trying to figure out if I ever loved Milah in the first place. I’ve come to the conclusion that I didn’t. I was just infatuated with her, and she absolutely never loved me. She made that painfully clear that day in the hospital, despite what she said last week.”

“I take it you haven’t talked to Emma?” David asked.

“I’ve tried calling her numerous times, I’ve left voicemails, and sent texts. All I’ve gotten in three days is a short text telling me she’s fine and she just needs time. I don’t know what to do.”

David studied his friend. It was clear that this was taking a toll on him. “Is she worth it?”

Mary Margaret shot a look of betrayal at her husband. David shook his head slightly, letting her know that he had a plan.

“What?” Killian asked as his eyes widened in surprise.

“Is Emma worth fighting for? Or should you just let her go?”

Their friend took a slow, measured drink of coffee. Then he sat back in his seat, staring into space, deep in thought. Finally he sat forward again. “I think we had the beginnings of something really special in the making, before I went and messed it all up. I might have even been…” he paused.

“Falling in love with her?” Mary Margaret asked softly.

Killian looked at her. “Possibly.”

“Then fight for her!” David exclaimed. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants, deserves what he gets!”

Killian set his jaw and nodded decisively. After days of wrestling with his self-doubts, he finally knew what he needed to do, too.

*********

Thanks so much for reading, commenting & reblogging. You will never know how much I appreciate it!

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hawkinshellfire · 3 years

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Chapter 6 - The Last Time

TW: Abusive Parents

All roads, they lead me here

I imagine you are home

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Hop, We need to talk. Meet me on the field after the game tonight. Joyce

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The week following the party, Joyce finds herself in a strange place. She hadn’t spoken to Hopper, she was being actively pursued by Lonnie Byers and she found herself waving to a few of her peers in the hallway, something she never would have done a few weeks prior.

Joyce never bothered with getting to know her classmates. She had Josie and Eli to enjoy her lunch with and she had Hopper. Now that she and Hopper were no longer speaking, she assumed she would just muddle through on her own. She was surprised to discover herself instead making friends. She isn’t sure she enjoys the concept, but she figures it’s worth pursuing until she decides she’d rather be on her own. For now, she didn’t mind having to say hello to a few of her classmates.

Lonnie Byers was another story. He was clearly interested in her and while Josie had been right and there was a certain spark between them, it just wasn’t right. She was interested in her best friend. Even if those feelings went unreciprocated, she wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else. This was one of those problems, she decided, that could also be put off until it absolutely needed to be dealt with. In the meantime, she would keep him around for some fun.

She knows she should probably cut him loose, yet something about the way Hopper’s jaw clenched when he saw them together prevented her from telling Lonnie she wasn’t interested. It was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself from wanting Hopper to feel the way she did when she saw him with Chrissy.

Ever since her party, Hopper had been skipping out on science class, which initially annoys her but later she decides that it’s probably for the best. She has no clue what she plans on saying to him the next time she sees him. As more time passes, she begins to regret slapping him.

Their kiss left her feeling confused and upset, but more than anything, being with Hopper reminded her of how much she missed spending time with him. After much deliberation, she decides that she can’t stand losing Hopper and that she is willing to forget about everything that happened between them if it meant they could be friends again.

She valued her friendship far more than her anger, which is why on Friday, she decides to leave a note in his locker asking to meet him after the game.

And now, here she is, standing on the bleachers in her acid wash jeans and leather jacket, cheering for the Hawkins High football team. She feels out of place in her dark coloured clothes. It seems the students around her are all dressed in some type green and orange spirit wear and she wonders if it was some kind of unwritten rule that you wore school colours to the game. She hopes not, green was not a colour suited for many people.

Though she and Hopper had been friends for all of high school, she’d never once attended one of his games. Sometimes, after the game ended, he would come over and tell her about his favourite parts, though he never pushed her to come and she had no interest in standing on the bleachers with a crowd of unfamiliar faces.

Even tonight, she debated not showing up. She wasn’t sure he’d received her letter, or if he would bother meeting her and her father had just about lost his mind when she told him that she was going out.

After checking herself over in the mirror and fixing up her red lipstick, Joyce grabs her bookbag and heads for the door.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” her father barks from where he’s seated in a recliner opposite the stairs. He’s facing the television, and not her, but she can tell by the heaviness in his voice that he’s been drinking.

“Out,” she tells him, offering no details.

“Out where? You have a curfew.”

“I’ll be back before curfew,” she lies.

He stands, slowly, places his bowl of chips on the overcrowded side table, sending an assortment of newspapers scattering to the floor and he approaches her.

“Where?” he demands. “Where did you get that? No doubt your mother taught you how to do that,” he says, pointing to her red lips, “No daughter of mine is going out looking like a whore.”

She considers telling him that it’s only lipstick but instead opts to wipe it off on the back of her hand. It leaves her knuckles stained red and she wishes she’d packed the tube of lipstick in her bag so that she could reapply it once she left. She did steal it from her mother, who was conveniently out of town for work. Joyce doubted she would even know it was missing.

“Where ya off to anyways?” her father demands to know. He stays leaning on the back of the recliner as Joyce edges closer and closer to the door, desperate to get going and escape his nonsensical line of questioning.

“There’s a football game at the school,” she explains.

“You don’t even like sports,” he huffs.

“I’m meeting some friends.”

“I doubt anyone would miss you if you stayed home and vacuumed.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. I promise,” Joyce tells him. Before he has time to make another remark, she slips out the front door and slams it behind her. She knows he won’t follow after her, he��s too lazy. Instead, he’ll mutter to himself about how disrespectful she is and he’ll plop himself back in the chair that she’ll find him asleep in when she returns home.

“They’d miss me,” she mumbles to herself as she begins her walk to the school. She wasn’t exactly meeting friends, but if she was, they’d miss her. She was certain they would. She liked to think that she was the type of person that would be missed. Some days, she believed that no one would know if she vanished. Other days, she was determined to believe that even she would be missed.

She wipes the red from her hand onto her bag and curses at herself for not packing the lipstick.

Watching the crowd around her, Joyce feels a sense of calm and belonging. Everyone was chanting and waving, excitedly jumping up and down as the cheerleaders lining the track wave their pom-poms in the air. Joyce spots Chrissy and her heart sinks. She’s dressed in her tiny pleated green skirt and matching crop top, with her curly blonde hair pinned back in a green hair tie and she has sparkles on her eyelids that make Joyce cringe. Chrissy catches Joyce’s eye and smirks before joining in on the ridiculously over peppy song being sung by her peers.

No wonder Hopper was interested in her. Her uniform was practically non-existent.

Joyce leans back against the wooden plank making up the bleachers and pulls out a cigarette. Mr. Samson had scolded her for smoking in the stands when she first arrived, but he was long gone and she needed a cigarette if she was going to make it through this game. Besides, she and Hopper sometimes ditched fifth and sixth period to share cigarettes beneath the bleachers all the time, she didn’t see what was so different about smoking on them.

After relaxing a bit, Joyce watches the commotion unfold around her as the team takes the field. She recognizes Hopper by his jersey number, 11, and follows him as he crosses the field in a slow jog until reaching his teammates on the sidelines. Crossing one ankle over the other, she stays seated while everyone around her erupts in cheers and prays that football games are short. Mr. Samson returns to scold her for smoking twice during the first quarter, but each time she rolls her eyes and pretends that she can’t hear him over the roar of the crowd.

In the locker room before the game, Hopper places his shoulder pads over his head and fastens the strap around his side.

The team was buzzing around excitedly, ready to take the field and face their opponents in the final game of the season before the play-offs began. Boys chant and holler while getting ready, but Hopper is silent. He’s trapped in his own head, not as focused on the pending game as he should be and it’s all Joyce’s fault. He hadn’t spoken to her since she cursed at him and told him to leave her party. He’d spent countless hours replaying the events of that night, and all of the ways it could have gone and after much deliberation concluded that what happened was possibly the worst thing that could have happened.

He wanted Joyce to know what she meant to him, but he wasn’t sure how to tell her. And then there was Chrissy and the fact that he was still dating her. Two things became clear after kissing Joyce. First, that he was a fool for ever believing he could cut her out of his life, and second, that he wanted to kiss her again. Only, he was certain she hated him for kissing her and he wasn’t sure she wanted to speak to him again, let alone kiss him again. He’d been avoiding her since that night, unsure of what he would say to her. He’d even gone as far as to skip class because he wanted to sort things out in his mind before he made an even bigger mess of things. And now she’d gone and left him a note saying they needed to talk and he had no clue what she meant by it; only that she was probably at the game tonight. She’d never once come to one of his games and his stomach lurches with the need to impress her.

He’s angry, but also confused and now both Joyce and Chrissy were going to be staring at him while he played; the fact that Joyce watching him excited him more than Chrissy in her tight little uniform rattled him to his core.

He decides to channel his anger and confusion into the game and excitedly claps his hands before proceeding to get ready.

“Why do you look so cheerful?” Hopper asks Benny, who is getting ready at the locker next to him.

“I’m meeting Helen after the game,” Benny smirks.

“Things are going well I see.”

“Honestly, they are. Thank god for Joyce’s party,” Benny laughs. “Oh, wait! I never asked where you ran off to the other night at the party.”

“I told you, I had too much to drink and Chrissy picked me up and drove me home,” Hopper says.

“I mean before that.”

“Oh,” he pales, “I had to talk to Joyce.”

“And yet, you two still aren’t talking,” Benny remarks sarcastically, “Am I missing something here?”

“We’re talking,” Hopper grumbles. They weren’t. He hadn’t spoken to her since that night and he was now ditching science class so that he wouldn’t have to face her. Why was Benny so concerned about his relationship with Joyce anyways, he thinks to himself. Well, based on her note, maybe they’d be talking after tonight.

“Did something happen between the two of you?” Benny asks.

“Why would something happen between us?!” he snaps.

“Woah, take it easy man. I was just asking if you’re fighting about something besides Chrissy.”

“We aren’t fighting about Chrissy.”

“Then why aren’t you talking?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It really can’t be that complicated,” Benny sighs. “Look, I’m worried about you man. You and Joyce have been inseparable since the day I met you and I haven’t seen you together in weeks.”

“It’s fine, Benny. Maybe we’re just growing apart.”

“We both know you don’t actually believe that bullshit. Talk to her.”

“Why are you suddenly so invested?”

“It’s my job as one of your best friends to make sure you don’t do stupid shit that you’ll regret one day. Chrissy might be hot, but Joyce, she’s something special.”

“Benny, how many times have I told you, it’s not like that with us.”

“Isn’t it? You care about her, no?”

“Well, of course I do.”

“Don’t smack me when I say this, because I’m planning on needing this arm for the game,” Benny smirks and jokingly steps away from Hopper to defend himself, “but I’ve seen the way you look at Joyce, and it isn’t how you look at Chrissy. Hell, it isn’t even how my parents look at each other. There’s something there.”

“Benny-”

“Alright,” he tosses his hands up, “no more from me. I’ll never bring it up again, I just had to tell you what I see. Now, let’s get ready to go and kick some ass!”

Hopper continues to get ready and does his best to ignore what Benny has just said, but the thought is paralyzing. He knew how kissing Joyce made him feel, but were his feelings really so obvious to everyone else? And if that was the case, why weren’t they obvious to Joyce?

In the third quarter, the Tigers are leading by 10 and Joyce is surprised to find herself clapping along with her peers, invested in the game. Hopper scored the team's second touchdown, bringing the crowd to their feet, including a shocked and excited Joyce. She wasn’t going to make a habit out of coming to games, but she had to admit, this wasn’t so bad.

Between the third and fourth quarter, the cheerleaders take the field to perform and Chrissy once again catches Joyce’s eye. The cheerleader laughs and flips her ponytail over her shoulder, while Joyce pretends to be distracted by something on her shoe.

The cheerleaders line up across center field and begin their performance. Joyce tunes out while they chant about spirit but notices Chrissy flick her skirt up and wink at Hopper, who is watching from the sidelines. She expects him to be drooling over the performance being put on for him, and instead finds him staring up at her in the stands. She swallows hard and forces herself not to wave, instead offering him a shy smile. He doesn’t look away after she notices him, choosing to stare at her instead of the show being put on at center field. When the whistle blows indicating the start of the fourth quarter, he snaps his helmet back on and takes the field. Chrissy remains oblivious to the fact that her boyfriend hadn’t watched her show and flashes a satisfied smirk in Joyce’s direction when she returns to the far side of the field.

Joyce tries not to read into what’s just happened but Hopper being all over the field and the crowd chanting his name as he scores yet another touchdown forces her to focus on him.

Someone holds up a sign that reads, “#11 on the field, #1 in our hearts,” and Joyce just laughs. She had a front row seat to the Jim Hopper show tonight, there was no escaping it.

Once the game comes to an end and the teams graciously shake hands, Joyce lingers on the bleachers until the field is clear and she can effortlessly climbs down onto the track. She leaps over the chain-link fence and leans against the post nearest to the men's locker room while she waits for Hopper. Luckily, the cheerleaders had also vacated the premises and it looked like most of her classmates were headed off to party’s or the diner to celebrate the team's big win, so she has the field all to herself.

She rolls her head back and stares at the scoreboard with a smile. Maybe football wasn’t the worst sport. After tonight, she understood why Hopper loved it so much. As she waits for him, her nerves begin to get the best of her and she wonders if this is the best idea. What if he didn’t want to hear what she had to say? Or worse, what if he hadn’t got the note, or did get it and decided to stand her up? Before she begins to spiral out of control, she takes out another cigarette and twirls it between her fingers.

Joyce notices the locker room door creep open and spots Hopper peak his head out and look around. When he spots her, a smile breaks out across his lips and he makes his way over to where she’s been waiting for him. Beneath the flood lights illuminating the field, his eyes look a neon shade of blue and she’s tempted to fix the messy curls left in his sandy hair by his helmet. She resists the urge and instead stuffs the unlit cigarette in her pocket. He’s still wearing his grass-stained jersey and shoulder pads, which makes her feel smaller than she usually does when settles in front of her.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.”

“I got your note,” he smiles. “I’ve missed you.”

“Look,” she begins, awkwardly holding her hands together behind her back, “I’m sorry that I slapped you.”

“Joyce-”

“No, please let me finish,” she begs. “I’m sorry I did that. I miss you too and I would really like to just forget about everything that’s happened and be friends again.”

Hopper purses his lips and folds his arms over his chest, “Huh?”

He was certain that she had feelings for him, but now she was telling him that she wanted to forget about everything that happened and while he was on board with fixing their friendship, he didn’t want to forget everything. Things changed when he kissed her. He knows she felt it too. She must have.

“Joyce,” he begins. He was going to get through the speech he rehearsed this time around, he’d screwed up enough, this was his chance to right his wrongs. “I don’t want to forget about it.”

“W-what?” she blinks.

“I don’t want to forget about it,” he states more definitively.

“You don’t want to be friends again?” she asks meekly.

“That’s not what I said. Of course I want to be friends again. Hell, I’ve missed talking to you so much these past few weeks Joy. And I’d love for us to forget about our stupid feud and move on, but… it’s just… I don’t want to forget about what happened at the party.”

Caught off guard by his own admission, he runs his hand through his hair and looks down. It was true, he wanted to mend their friendship, but he couldn’t forget about the way being with her made him feel.

“You - why?” she stammers.

“Look, I hate to ask this but Benny thinks that maybe you were upset with me because you’re jealous of Chrissy. Are you?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It matters.”

“If I am, it doesn’t mean anything,” she admits.

“It matters to me,” he says. Surprised they’d even made it this far into the conversation without her getting upset with him for accusing her of being jealous, he takes a deep breath.

“Why? Why can’t we just forget about all of this and go back to the way things were?”

“Because,” he pauses and steps towards her. He reaches down and softly lifts her chin so that she’s forced to look at him. “Joyce, that kiss.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing, and we both know it.”

“You felt something?” she asks in a whisper.

He nods.

Overwhelmed, Joyce tries to pace away a few steps but Hopper is quick to place a hand on her waist and instead pulls her half a step closer to him. “Didn’t you?” he breathes.

“Hop-” she squirms out of his grasp and he drops his hand as she steps back. Tears flood the corners of her eyes and she shakes her head.

“Tell me that I’m wrong and we’ll forget it all happened. But, we don’t have to. I know you felt it too.” His words come out as a plea and she pinches her eyes closed to try and not give in to the desire to launch herself into his arms and tell him that of course she felt it. She needs to stay focused. He was with Chrissy and he wasn’t thinking clearly. He didn’t want her. Not really. He may be fascinated with the idea of her, but the lust that clouded his mind would fade away and their friendship would be left in ruins. She wanted him to be saying this because he wanted her. All of her. She needed to know that he wanted this for the same reasons she did; that she wasn’t just a passing phase.

“If I tell you that I did, how would that change things between us? You’re with Chrissy. Nothing good will come of me agreeing with you. It’ll ruin everything.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“If I tell you that Benny was right, or that I felt something when you kissed me, it won’t be enough. I want more.”

Her voice breaks and she gasps. Hearing herself admit what she wanted aloud for the first time is overwhelming yet calming. “I need more,” she sighs. It’s a vague statement, she knows, but she doesn’t completely know what she means and is hoping his interpretation will tell her.

“What do you mean, more?” he asks. He’s staring at her with such intensity that she feels the world around them has vanished.

“There you are!” A third voice interrupts their moment and Joyce knows that their conversation will remain unfinished while he’s still dating someone else.

Chrissy flits over to them, the pleats of her green skirt bouncing as she glides effortlessly across the track and launches herself into Hopper’s arms the way Joyce wishes she could. Joyce steps back and away from Hopper, giving his girlfriend room to toss her arms around his neck and kiss him in a far from PG manner.

An uncomfortable look settles over Hopper’s face as he helps Chrissy find her footing back on the ground. His eyes remain trained on Joyce, even while Chrissy attempts to deepen their kiss, and he awkwardly clears his throat with a cough.

Chrissy steps to his side and hooks her hand through his arm and smirks at Joyce.

“Chrissy, you remember Joyce, right?” Hopper says awkwardly.

“Of course! I just love your jacket,” Chrissy responds with the fakest complement Joyce has ever heard.

“Nice to see you,” Joyce whispers. She stuffs her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and shrugs. “Anyways, I should get going. Um, good game Hop,” she says, smiling half-heartedly at him.

“Do you want a ride? We’re going to the diner,” Hopper calls after her.

He can feel Chrissy glaring at him for inviting Joyce, but he isn’t done with their conversation and he desperately wants her to agree to the ride.

“I’ve got one, but thanks,” she waves. Joyce turns and makes her way to the parking lot, racking her brain with what to do next. She was hoping that she and Hopper would have resolved things and he could have given her a ride home, but with their conversation ending where it did, she wasn’t keen on climbing into a car with him and Chrissy and she really didn’t want to walk home.

That’s when she spots him, leaning against a beat up old car with a cigarette dangling between his teeth, and the idea strikes her.

“Lonnie,” she greets him as she approaches. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you at a football game.”

“Yeah well, something to do. I could say the same about you.”

“It’s not my usual scene,” she admits.

“I was going to head to the diner, you want a ride Horowitz?” he offers. He puts out his cigarette by aggressively stomping his heel into the dirt.

“I’d love one,” she beams. She steals a glance over her shoulder and notices Hopper is watching while he and Chrissy walk towards his own car. Desperate to show him she’s unphased by Chrissy, she leans over to Lonnie and presses a kiss to his lips.

“What was that for?” he smirks when she pulls back and rounds the car so that she can climb into the passenger's seat.

“Consider it a thanks for the ride,” she winks.

She makes eye contact with Hopper as she and Lonnie back out of the parking lot and she notices his fists are clenched at his sides. She knew it was wrong and childish, but she can’t help herself. She put her heart on the line tonight, it was Hopper’s turn to make a move and prove that he wanted her as more than just a best friend.

This is the last time you tell me I've got it wrong

This is the last time I say it's been you all along

#stranger things #Jopper #au #Multichapter

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silveraccent · 4 years

Text

Designated Drunk || Grace & Cece

TIMING: Evening, Sept 5th PARTIES: @silveraccent & @thebickedwitchoftherest SUMMARY: For once, Cece is the responsible one who’s listening to Grace’s ramblings. Grace lets a few secrets fly, and Cece thinks she may know what’s going on. Trigger Warnings: Death mention.

Grace didn’t drink. She didn’t drink because when she drank, it was harder for her to not let people in. Not metaphorically, but literally. She became an open book, and she hated it when she became that way. Hated the way she couldn’t shut up, the way her jokes became a little less morbid, a little more telling. Though, after the week that she had had, it was inevitable. After the situation with Winston at the morgue, Grace wasn’t sure what to think. It was real, she knew that much, but she wasn’t sure how to make sense of it. It had been awhile since she, Cece, and Regan had gone out for drinks, and with Regan’s sudden absence, Cece had found it important for the two of them to bond without the flying airplanes. Grace couldn’t blame her, as their last attempt had been a bit lost. She sat now in front of Cece, a cider half-gone as she wrapped her hand around it, the condensation rubbing onto the palm of her hand. “It was a good idea,” Grace said as she hiccuped, “that we didn’t go to the same spot.” God she was such a lightweight.

Having a new face around the morgue had taken some getting used to, but luckily Cece was flexible and adapted to change well. Overall, Cece had decided that she liked the newcomer. Even if her personality was more aligned to Regan’s than her own, Grace was a fresh face and Cece had managed to get a few laughs out of her at work. More than she had gotten from Regan, after over 6 months. Cece was two drinks in, watching was fascination as Grace drank hers. She couldn’t get a good read on the kid, but something about the girl screamed lightweight. “I’ve made my way around the team. I know all the good bars.” Cece took a long drink and grinned at the girl, “Listen, I know you’re a lot nicer than me. But tell me that leaving Ricker’s behind wasn’t powerful?? Drinking game, take a drink for every time he told us about Cody’s after school activities today? Talk about blackout drunk.”

“The good bars,” Grace nodded slowly, thumbing the bottom half of her glass and smeared the condensation around, “I like good bars. I don’t usually go to bars.” She looked at Cece. This wasn’t something she normally did, go out drinking, but she could release some of the stressors that had been making it hard to sleep lately, right? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the reanimated corpse lunging at her and Winston and her stomach would churn all night long. Maybe allowing herself to have a few drinks would change that, make it easier to sleep. “I don’t know if I’d be able to survive that.” Grace scrunched her nose and lifted her drink to her lips, taking a hefty sip. The apple bit at the tip of her tongue. “I think… we’d die.” She looked up at Cece with a stoney gaze. “Or do something stupid, because of how drunk we’d be.” She laughed at her words even though they weren’t funny. “Maybe,” Grace continued, “we’d be able to make money.” Her eyes lit up. She knew she wasn’t making sense, it was why she didn’t drink, “do you think we could bet on it? I need new shoes.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell, kid.” Cece laughed sarcastically, the obviousness of Grace’s lack of bar experience being pretty obvious. “Grace, I pride myself on being able to drink people under the table at five feet tall and even I couldn’t survive a drinking game like that.” Cece slapped Grace on the shoulder playfully and tried to imagine in a single day how many shots that would take. Cece wasn’t sure this bar had enough alcohol in stock. A day like that would end with Grace and Cece in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. This Grace, not many drinks in but already tipsy, was absolutely adorable. “Make money, huh?” Cece leaned in, egging the girl on. “Tell me more about this plan of yours. Where is the money coming from? What shoes are you going to buy? Most importantly, should we buy matching crocs?”

“You are really short.” Grace observed, looking Cece over. Despite the fact that they were both settled in their chairs, she could tell that she had at least 3 inches on Cece. “I wouldn’t survive either, but maybe it’d be a fun way to forget about the day.” She looked up at the blonde when her hand came in contact with her shoulder. It seemed like Cece was having a good time, but Grace’s impression was a bit muddled due to the alcohol. Truthfully, the reason she didn’t drink much was because she didn’t like how numb everything felt, despite wanting it to be quiet. “Money would be good, I could afford a new pair of Dr Martens.” She looked at Cece with a grin before taking another sip of her drink. She hadn’t been aware of the AC of the cider before ordering it, but it didn’t seem to matter now. “How many times in a day he would talk about his grandkids,” Grace continued, gaze settled on the napkin dispenser between them, “maybe 50. Whoever loses, pays up.” She furrowed her brows, “I don’t know if Regan would want to though.”

“Thanks for the reminder” Cece scowled at her coworker, but she didn’t hold it very long before smirking. Cece had accepted her fate long ago. She had watched everyone around her get their growth spurts. Cece thought she would just be a late bloomer, but turned out she was actually cursed. The lack of height only fueled her. She gained power from being underestimated by the people around her. “I like your dedication to these new shoes. More than that, I love this obnoxious Ricker’s pool idea you’ve got going. Y’know what Grace? I like you. I think we’re going to get along.” Cece held her glass up and offered it in a cheers to tap against Grace’s, “What Regan doesn’t know won’t kill her. That’s my philosophy.”

“It’s okay, I’m short too.” Grace said it matter-of-factly. She leaned into her drink as she picked it up and pressed the rim of the glass to her lips. It was cool to the touch, her face already feeling warm from the alcohol. She blinked at Cece, “I have to be dedicated to something, right?” She smiled innocently at her before taking another sip, only to be left with less than a quarter of a glass. She set the glass back down onto the table. “I like you too!” She smiled broadly at Cece, “I was worried, because when Regan told me about the coffee, I thought maybe you didn’t care about your job, but you do.” She nodded again, “I like this job.” She looked at Cece and picked up her glass again, clinking it against Cece’s. “She won’t know, just like she won’t find out about what happened at the morgue.” She froze. Shit.

That damn coffee story. For whatever reason, Cece had somehow come out of that story the bad guy for bringing coffee into a morgue. Sure, Regan May have been right in the minuscule and potential risks involved if the coffee were to spill. But she had to understand that Cece never let coffee go to waste. Not to mention, the real victim here still had not received any true justice, her almost full cup of coffee. Wasted. No one there to sip on it’s rich and caffeinated goodness. A true tragedy. Even if Regan ever admitted the two were friends outside of work, Cece would never forget the injustice given to her that day. “I do care about my job, actually. But I think there’s also something to be said for caring about the job a little too much.” Regan was passionate about her work. It was something Cece could admire most of the time. Except for when she was living in her office and throwing away her coffee. “A good work life balance goes a long way. Don’t forget that when you’re learning shit from Regan. She can teach you a lot of things, but that’s not one of them.” Won’t find out what happened at the morgue. That piqued Cece’s curiosity. She wondered if Grace was talking about the incident with the body? But he would Grace be so dead set on keeping something that wasn’t her fault a secret? “Tell me more about what happened at the morgue again. Scouts honor that it stays between the two of us.”

When it came to drinking, Grace was bad at it. As bad as she was with most things physically demanding, like soccer, or mowing the lawn. She couldn’t hold her alcohol and it showed in the way she bowed over her drink, a small grin tucked at her lips. She knew that she was going to either get herself in trouble, or Winston in trouble by even talking about it, but she could at least just say she saw the body, not what actually happened with the body, right? She looked up at Cece again in an effort to gauge whether or not she could actually be trusted. Sincerity rolled off of her as well as curiosity, for what Grace could tell. “It was…. Alive.” She blinked. That wasn’t the right word. “Not alive, but it moved.” She nodded. That description was better. “It moved… at me, and then it crumpled to the floor.” Not totally a lie. It was too bad it hadn’t happened prior to Nell’s truth serum wearing off. “Like… a pile of laundry.” She scrunched her nose and let her hands fall into her lap. “It just…. Fell apart, to pieces.” She picked up her drink and finished the cider off, the memory of that day leaving a foul taste in her mouth.

A dead body that came back to life? This was definitely the most interesting part of Cece’s day by far. “The dead body moved?” Cece questioned Grace. It was important to remember that Grace was definitely drunk. Side note, Grace was an adorable drunk and should definitely not be driving home. That being said, Cece needed more to go on before getting too excited. In her experience, drunk people were usually more honest than sober people. But drunk people also tended to exaggerate more than sober people too. “When you say moved, you mean like normal spasms that corpses have? Or full on limb function?” Knowing what she knew about the status of the body at the end of the exchange, Cece was willing to bed on the latter. Unfortunately, Cece needed to stay sober tonight to make sure that good ol’ Gracy didn’t wander off into the woods and get herself eaten. “So what’s your take on this whole situation? Are you drunk enough to consider that this was supernatural or something?”

“It wasn’t gassy if that’s what you’re asking,” Grace mumbled against her knuckles as she held her hand to her mouth. She was in deep shit now, revealing what had happened. As long as she didn’t slip and mention the fact that Winston was with her, she should be fine. It’d be possible to just say that the corpse crumpled to the ground rather than admitting it came after them, right? She looked anywhere other than Cece’s eyes, she wouldn’t be able to hold in the truth if she made eye contact, she just knew it. “It got up… off the table, it moved, then it fell.” It felt weird, saying it out loud now. The words felt foreign on her tongue, like they were a lie, but she knew what she saw, she knew what had happened. Winston had been there, too. “Drunk enough to consider this a supernatural phenomenon?” She looked up at Cece finally, but looked at her nose instead. “I don’t know what happened, but it wasn’t normal.” She kept her voice low, “honestly a lot of weird shit has been happening since I moved here, I don’t know what to believe, and it’s not like I can ignore it, I’m not exactly--” Grace clamped her mouth shut and let out a forced laugh, “I don’t know what to believe.” God, why couldn’t she just stay sober.

That shit was magic if Cece had ever heard of it. And considering that Cece was a witch, she had definitely heard of it. But who the fuck had any interest in reanimating some stupid dead person inside of a morgue? Whatever they had done, it didn’t seem to work well if the thing just crashed soon after. Cece had a lot of questions, and none of them could be answered by a drunk girl who clearly had no idea what the hell was going on. Poor thing didn’t seem in tune with the supernatural world at all. Which could only mean that she was in for a rude awakening around these parts. “Yeah well, welcome to White Crest. This town is weird as fuck.” Cece stated matter of factly. Cece had spent the last ten years travelling the country with a coven with questionable morals and Cece still thought this town had a few screws loose. “I’ll tell you now kid. If you’re going to stick around, you may want to start lowering your expectations of what normal is.” Cece chuckled. It almost reminded her of how Cece had felt back at fifteen, discovering her own magic for the first time. “Was anyone else with you? What if I told you that we could stop something like that from happening again?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it weird,” Grace mumbled against her knuckles. She didn’t know how to explain what had happened, but it had to be something-- whether or not she wanted to believe it, there was definitely something supernatural going on. She had seen it when Winston blew the decedent to pieces, as well as when the door had fallen apart. There was no other explanation, the town wasn’t just weird. She had been called weird all her life, what she was capable of, it wasn’t normal, and she knew that-- but this? This was out of the ballpark in the world of weird, or normal. She could be confused, but still understand that there was something bigger going on, right? She rubbed the side of her face, the sweetness of the cider beginning to give her a headache. Maybe it was the bridal party in the corner of the room, she couldn’t tell. Elation filled her as the woman opened a gift and she went to take a sip of her empty drink. She looked back towards the bar when Cece asked if anybody else had been there, and without thinking, she spoke, “Yeah, Winston.” Grace’s bit down on her cheek hard. “But they left right before it happened,” she quickly covered up as she turned back to Cece. “Do you think we can get another drink?” She picked up her empty glass and wiggled it in the air with a frown.

“You have a better word for it then?” Cece raised an eyebrow. In the know or not, even someone familiar with the supernatural couldn’t deny that something about the town was off. If a hellmouth was real, the one in this town would have a portal that dropped you directly on Satan’s lap. A widespread, long lasting town curse hadn’t been completely ruled out of Cece’s theories either. Not that Cece was actively trying to find a root of the cause. That certainly wasn’t her business, and not worth the trouble or danger. “Because I’m sticking with weird as fuck until I get a better adjective.” So Winston had been there? Or rather… Winston had not been there? Drunk Grace was a bit loose on the specifics, changing that they had left right before the body had moved. Cece knew Winston well enough on the surface as a coworker. The two had worked together before and both kept the whole werewolf versus lobster debacle to themselves. Clearly, they weren’t ignorant of the supernatural. “You bet we can. I’ll even pay for it.” Cece laughed, raising her hand to wave the bartender over. “Listen I’m not telling you this just because I think you’re one drink away from the deep end and you’ll forget the conversation. But I think I know what happened and I think I know a way to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

She didn’t have a better word for it. Maybe just accepting it as it was what Grace needed to do, because if she didn’t, where would she end up? She shook her head, trying to figure out the word that was at the tip of her tongue, but refused to tumble over. She looked at Cece, “I guess that works, weird as shit.” She hiccuped at Cece’s declaration that she’d buy the next drink. Grace felt guilty, only for a moment, before giving her a firm nod. “I’ll buy the one after that, then!” Grace smiled at her, the mood from the corner of the room sinking its claws into her. The last thing she wanted to do was exhibit their mannerisms, but she couldn’t help but feel slightly cheered up, despite her longing to fall into the pit of despair that surrounded her current circumstances. “Wait, what?” Grace looked from her empty glass back to Cece, eyebrows pulled together in concentration-- concentration that she didn’t exactly have. “What do you mean you know what might have caused a dead body from being dead, to getting up and attacking us--” Grace chewed on the inside of her cheek. She needed to never drink again.

Cece reminded herself to cut Grace off after this drink. Cece always supported a good, safe blackout drunk adventure. But this girl already said that she rarely drank. It was never a smart idea to put Cece in charge of being the responsible one, but even she could see the writing on the wall here. One more drink and Cece needed to get Grace home and hydrated. She’d still feel like shit tomorrow, but at least she wouldn’t end up in the hospital. Or worse, a two day hangover. “So it’s back to us then?” Cece raised her eyebrows in suspicion. Funny how the story kept changing. “And it attacked you this time? It’s like a whole new little fable now.” That didn’t exactly answer the girl’s question. Though given Grace’s current emotional state, Cece wasn’t convinced her coworker would quite comprehend an honest explanation anyways, “You think I’m completely blind to the shit that happens in this town? I didn’t cause the dead body to attack you, but I’m familiar with the spell. It’s magic.” Cece waved her hands around and added in some spirit fingers for dramatic effect.

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” Grace lied as she scrubbed her chin with her hand. The last thing she wanted to do was bring Winston into this, to out them for… what had they called themselves? She couldn’t remember, it had all been a blur. This was like those days in which she had been under the influence of the truth serum, her inability to shut up was a risk, and she knew it. “I can’t remember.” Grace let out a defeated sigh, one that she hoped was convincing enough to sway Cece into thinking that she genuinely had her details mixed up. She had even screwed up with Regan, not having mentioned Winston at first, when they were clearly on the security cameras. The m word made Grace’s skin crawl. “That’s what…” That’s what who said? She couldn’t say Winston, her story was already messed up. Defeated, she shrugged, “sure, if that’s what it was.” She had bargained with the idea that it was something else, anything else, but it was so clearly magic. Her Grandma had told her stories about sorcerers and covens, but nothing that she ever took for truth. Though, with her involvement in tarot readings, of course those things would shroud her stories.

“Clearly, that much has been obvious.” Grace couldn’t decide on what the truth was. Admittedly, Cece wasn’t in the mood to pressure her too much on the issue. There was a reason she was remaining slightly apprehensive. Either she was protecting Winston or hadn’t quite accepted what she had seen yet. Either way, drunk Grace clearly wasn’t going to be any more help. Cece had already gotten the answer she needed anyways. Someone was playing around with necromancy. Bringing corpses back to life for the hell of it. And by the looks of it, they were either just doing it to fuck around or they sucked at actually bringing someone back to life. If that was the case, the problem may have taken care of itself. Bringing someone back from the dead was a dangerous game that needed to be done perfectly. “You’re new to all this. No worries there. I’ve been there too. Stick with me, I’ll help enlighten you to the world of fuckery. It’s a wild ass ride, fair warning. There’s not really any going back once you start.”

Truth be told, Grace had no idea what she was getting herself into when she moved to White Crest. She hadn’t expected to have a reanimated corpse running at her, hands outstretched. She hadn’t expected to see somebody fling the body against a wall without so much as moving a finger. It was all… chaotic, and the expression on Grace’s features showed that. “I’m already living here, so aren’t I kind of in it?” She was taking this all a lot easier than she had expected of herself, mostly because she wasn’t sure what was real and what was dramaticized. She picked up her glass to find it empty. A frown pulled at the corners of her lips as she looked back to Cece. “There’s a lot you can’t explain, but I’m guessing you can?” She looked towards the bar, glad to see it was absent of paper airplanes flying their way. “Did you ever figure out what happened with the planes?” Grace asked absently as she tried to slip off of her chair.

Grace had a point. Not everyone got the luxury of living in White Crest and ignoring the weirdness. Cece didn’t quite grasp the people that lived here their whole lives without recognizing. For the most part, the town seemed normal enough. But once someone got their first glimpse into the weirdness, it felt like a rabbit hole that couldn’t be climbed out of. Unless that person was Regan, who had managed to be permanently stuck head first in the rabbit hole and still refused to accept the inevitable. Honestly, her stubbornness was downright impressive. “I wouldn’t go that far, Grace. I’m not an expert by any means. But I’ve been around the block a few times.” Cece took a practical approach to things. If she could see it, that shit was happening. If she couldn’t see it, that shit might still be happening. The most important thing was keeping an open mind and always keeping calm. She had usually found that she could get herself out of situations even new to her by keeping her cool. “I can at least point you in the right direction.” As far as the paper airplanes went, Cece hadn’t thought about it much. “Not a clue. Never happened to me at that bar before. My only guess is some kind of teleportation or summoning spell.” Cece shrugged, as if a teleportation spell was the most normal thing in the world, “Can’t say why they were targeting us specifically.” Grace started moving, sliding off of her chair and Cece groaned, rolling her eyes and hopping off of the barstool with her, “Where you think you’re going?”

“Around the block a few times, got it.” Grace nodded, making a grab for her empty glass. She picked it up and pressed it to her cheek, allowing for the glass to cool her skin. She didn’t know what was happening, and it seemed as though the more questions she asked, the more answers she got, or… didn’t necessarily get. It was all very confusing, and Grace had had enough thinking about it-- it was a mistake bringing it up to Cece at all. She wondered silently if Cece would tell Regan. The thought made her stomach turn over. The last thing that she needed was for Regan to know that she lied. “A summoning spell?” Grace asked as she leaned against the table, her elbow digging into the wood as she tried to keep from stumbling over. “There are a lot of spells here, huh?” Why wasn’t she more upset by this? Why wasn’t she questioning Cece, asking her how she knew that this was the cause? She wanted to ask, but hadn’t she seen Winston with her own eyes, blowing the door open, blowing the decedent to pieces? She shook her glass in her hand. “I want another drink, remember?” She motioned for the blonde to follow her to the bar. “I need another drink to get through that conversation, because I can tell you’re telling the truth, or you believe you are, and that makes my head hurt.” She wandered towards the bar without realizing that she may have just outed herself for not being so normal, either.

“Way more than I know.” Cece agreed with Grace. The number of spells in the world were probably innumerable. There were countless variations to similar spells, and some spells so specific to a certain situation that it would be almost impossible to ever copy them again. But that was a whole mind blow moment that Cece wasn’t sure Grace’s brain could handle much more of at the moment. At least Grace just believed Cece without some show of proof. Cece had no interest in using a spell at a bar. “Oh right of course. You want another drink.” Cece sighed but followed her, “Alternate idea. And trust me I sense the irony coming from me, but we could not drink anymore and get you home. Continue this conversation in a day or two when you don’t feel like you’re dying.” A hangover was unavoidable, but it could always get worse. “You can tell I’m not lying?” Cece questioned out loud. Did that mean Grace was good at telling if people were lying or that she had some sort of sixth sense. Could she even trust anything that the girl was saying. When Grace got to the bar, Cece waved for the bartender’s attention while Grace’s back was turned. Cut her off Cece mouthed to the bartender, swiping her fingers across her neck in show.

“I don’t feel like I’m dying,” Grace countered back as she looked over her shoulder at Cece. “And weren’t you trying to get Re-- Dr Kavanagh and I to drink with you the last time?” Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t drink often, though.” She paused just before the bar before looking to the bartender who seemed focused on something behind her. Grace cut her gaze back to Cece just in time to see her hand drop to her side. “Oh, you think I'm lush now.” Grace’s voice came out in a whine. “I swear I’m not normally like this, I mean, you saw me--” she folded her arms across her chest and sighed. A shrill laugh from the corner of the bar made Grace wince as a wave of elation washed over her. Grace tried to push it off, but instead, clasped her hands together and gave Cece a broad smile. “One more drink for the road, then I’ll drink no more, besides, I’ve only had two!” She turned back towards the bartender and looked at them with pleading eyes, “One cider. One drink for Cece. She said she’s paying, but I want to pay, because that’s what juniors do.” She grabbed the bartop as she turned and winked at Cece. God, the crowd of bridesmaids was making it hard to be consistent. Normally, Grace had an easier time keeping it from swallowing her whole, but with drinking, it became harder. Though, the headaches were absent, so at least she had alcohol to thank for that.

“I’ll never give up on my attempts to get Regan to drink with me. Someday, Grace. Someday.” Cece stared off into the void, wondering how likely it was that her dreams would ever come true. Not very, most likely. But that wouldn’t stop Cece from trying. “I’m just looking out for future Grace, no judgement here. I’ve had more drunken nights than I could even begin to count.” Cece shrugged, the bartender glancing between the two and Cece shrugging and waving them off. Grace was an adult, if she wanted to keep drinking, Cece wasn’t going to hold her back. At least she’d be there to mostly keep her holding onto reality. “Fine. You pay, I’ll just sit here and look pretty.” Cece leaned against the countertop and watched Grace. Had it really only been two drinks? Damn, this girl was a lightweight. “Regan’s going to kill me if I break her new employee.”

“Future Grace will have to deal with her decisions,” Grace said matter-of-factly. It was like she was a whole new person, albeit it was the alcohol mixing in with whatever else was going on in the bar. She paid the bartender in a 20 dollar bill after telling him to keep the change. She twisted to look at Cece as they waited for their order, “I won’t be broken, I can’t be broken.” She shook her head. She hadn’t experienced any harsh physical traumas, but her mind sure had, and she wasn’t sure if there was much more to break, albeit, this town sure was trying. “Besides, I can take care of myself.” She nodded as if to reinforce this before she grabbed her cider that was placed down in front of her. “I hope you like cider, because I forgot what you ordered before.” She frowned. “It’s good though, not sweet.” She raised it to her lips and let out a satisfied lip smack before she touched Cece’s elbow to motion her back to the table. “So,” Grace said after she set her glass down, “you are nice, I am nice, but does Regan hate me, do you think?”

“You know, I love the attitude honestly.” Cece had to admit that she didn’t have a good argument against Grace putting her problems off on future Grace. How could Cece argue against it when she had made the same exact declarations hundreds of times before this? That would just be disrespectful, hypocritical even. Cece was nothing if not a hypocrite. That being said, she was totally warning Regan that she had tried to put a stop to this. She just knew that she was going to end up falling under the blame for tonight. Sure, pick on the girl always asking for people to grab drinks with her. “I know you can. I never doubted that for a second.” Right now? Cece wasn’t convinced Grace could take care of a stuffed animal, let alone herself. A balloon could probably knock her over. “I’ll drink anything sent my way.” And usually that would have been true if Cece hadn’t realized how big of a lightweight Grace was. Clearly, Cece needed to help the girl build some tolerance so they could have some truly fun nights out. “No, Regan doesn’t hate you. She treats everyone that works for her like that.” It was a funny detour in their regular conversation. Apparently, Grace had some doubts about whether or not her boss approved of her work. “She loves hugs though. Maybe you should try being more affectionate. Make the bond grow a little closer.” Would drunk Grace even remember this conversation? Probably not. But on the off chance that she did and that Grace actually believed her, this would totally pay off eventually.

Grace was glad that the conversation had shifted from what happened at the morgue to… well, whatever this was. It made things easier, made it so Grace didn’t trip over her words, only to spill all of the secrets she’s tucked underneath her tongue. She knows what she looks like, she can see it in Cece’s eyes-- concern drifted off of her, but Grace ignores it, tries to focus on having fun for once, because what had happened, it had hit her hard, and she still wasn’t sure she was okay enough to deal with it sober. While she believed what she saw, it was still a hard pill to swallow. “Hugs?” Grace asked as she looked at Cece over her glass. She lifted it to her lips, the tanginess of the drink coated her tongue. She didn’t think Cece was being genuine, but she didn’t question it. “That doesn’t seem right.” Grace tilted her head to the side, “but I’m glad to know that she doesn’t hate me, I was worried.” She frowned, “she just feels serious all the time, so maybe…” Grace shrugged, “Maybe I’m looking too far into it.” It’d be possible, she almost always was. It didn’t help that she could typically tell how people felt about her right off the bat.

“Bonkers right?” Cece shrugged, playing nonchalant. “She doesn’t seem like the hugging type, I know. Looks can be deceiving.” Cece would give just about anything for Grace to randomly give Regan a hug at work. Cece could picture the look on Regan’s face, the mere thought bringing a smile to her face. “I’ve been trying to get Regan to loosen up since I got there, so if you have any luck you must be some sort of miracle worker.” Regan kept things way too serious, her rule against befriending coworkers a real damper on Cece’s fun. Work was always more bearable when she could have a laugh with her work friends. Hard to do when Regan was so adamantly against the idea of work friends. “My advice? Just keep your head low for a while with Regan. Once she gets used to the new addition to the group she’ll start throwing compliments your way. After that you know you’re on her good side.” Cece downed the rest of her cider in one gulp and slid the empty glass away, “I think it’s almost quitting time. You gonna finish that so we can get you home?” “I don’t think I’ll have any luck,” Grace admitted. Maybe it was the sudden somber tone from the bridal party, the woman crying due to the realization that her life was over. She wondered why she thought that. She looked at Cece, “I’m just Grace.” She smiled at her, maybe a little too sweetly, before picking up her glass and taking another drink. “I don’t mind not getting compliments…” Grace thought for a moment, “but I don’t like not being liked, but at the same time…” She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked down at her glass, then at Cece’s, which was entirely gone. She frowned slightly. “I don’t know if I can do that, but,” Grace tried to mimic the way that Cece downed her glass, but cider pooled at the corners of her lips. Grace was forced to pull the glass away and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Oh, that’s a buzz.” Grace nodded to herself as she tipped the glass again, finally emptying the contents. “I did it.” She looked at Cece triumphantly, her worries about Regan, the reanimated corpse, Winston, everything lost with the sweetness of her drink.

#chatzy: cece #para: designated drunk #death tw

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 8493

Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.

Fuck.

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AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fanfiction #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meeting #mysnowbazfic

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annoying-lucy · 4 years

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Evan Evagora did an AMA involving the Star Trek Shitposting Facebook Group - the questions and answers below were copy/pasted direct from the collated master post. Evan is a member of the group, who participates under an unknown pseudonym.

———————————————

AMA Master Post!

Thanks so much to Evan Evagora for taking time out of his day for our AMA earlier. To make the questions and answers easier for ya'll to find, here they all are together below.

Q: How does my love of cats compare to Elnor?

A: Im actually more of a dog person, there was a scene that had Elnor and spot 2 unite briefly but unfortunately it didn’t leave the editing room

Q: How familiar was I with Star Trek before and did I have to do research?

A: I grew up with TNG, I’d have to say either worf, Guinan or Q are my favourite characters. And I was given episodes to watch that were to help with information before filming Picard

Q: How was I prepped to deal with the crazy fans?

A: I got told to join Star Trek shitposting 😉. Not but in all seriousness, it was Jonathan Frakes who gave me advice on entering the world of fandom from the other side and he said it’s been nothing short of a pleasure

Q: So if Hugh had survived would they have made out?

A: what happens on the cube stays on the cube

Q: My favourite moment of s1

A: getting to slice that romulans head off

Q: How did I hear about Star Trek shitposting?

A: most of the crew is either a part of the group or knows about, one of the amazing hair and make up ladies got me into I think my first or second day

Q: If I had to be Tuvixed with someone excluding elnor?

A: mirror verse Elnor, nah worf to be honest

Q: What is something I’d like to do in season 2

A: Id like to see Elnor and spot 2 together

Q: How am I passing my time woth quarantine?

A: ama for the gronp! Nah I’ve just been reading, writing and also the contact I’m having with the fans too has really helped a lot

Q: If I had to quarantine with any of my costars who would it be and why

A: I’d go with hardy treadaway he’s got the nicest place

Q: What am I hoping to see in Elnor’s future

A: Inner peace, contentment and possibly shorter hair?

Q: Am I intimidated by working on a show with such a big fan base?

A: no I grew up with Star Trek, you’re really in a bubble of filming when you’re making the show, it all didn’t really hit home until the first trailer at San Diego

Q: Would I consider playing Elnor as non binary

A: I’ve seen a lot of debate and discussion about not only my character but others in the series, if there is something that connects you with a character on this show and it resonates with you, even if it’s shown, not shown or hinted at I’m all for it. I am not for the constant belittlement, bullying and criticism of not only the characters on the show but also other fans. It really does break my heart reading comments where people aren’t welcoming of one another, because that is the whole reason why Trek has bought so many together and by spewing these disgusting cruel words out your not only showing the world you don’t understand the meaning behind the show, you also are destroying the thing that makes us all love it

Q: Is there Australia on romulas

A: yeah they have a down under I’m sure of it. No the accent can easily be explained with, Elnor left romulas at a young age, moved to a planet with different species and languages spoken so that influenced his accent

Q: Have I seen Elnor fan fiction and art?

A: yeah some of it has been really amazing! And some others have been...creative

Q: How excited am I to make home movies with my action figures?

A: my plan is to buy everyone’s, make them record audio and then film shit using the dolls and their voices

Q: Are you playing animal crossing?

A: I’ve preordered it because they’ve sold out here in aus, but in playing civ 6 to pass time and Mario party

Q: Did I get to try Romulan ale?

A: no I wish, I’m kind of hoping for a scene next year where Elnor gets drunk for the first time

Q: What character did I wish would appear in our show?

A: one word, one letter Q

Q: What’s my background have I been acting long?

A: Picard was my third acting gig, and the first project to release, so I have got some experience acting and I have previous work but it has either just aired or is going to next year

Q: Please my friend choose a charity you would like us to donate to

A: food bank

Q: Favourite ninja turtle

A: it’s always been Raph and always will be

Q: Do I know much about Elnors background

A: I know things that haven’t been mentioned yet, but also given his character is new and season 1 just finished, hopefully some of those things are explored

Q: How would o feel about the fan theory that Spock is my father

A: I mean, I’m not really sure, I can always shoot Ethan a message and ask him what he thinks too

Q: Which classic episode trope would I like to see?

A: mirror universe

Q: Can we look forward to more ninja representation?

A: is Elnor not enough? ☹️

Q: Were there any particular characters I drew inspiration from, any elves?

A: there’s a particular group of people I think Elnor might have been inspired from. Can I just say how cool it would be if Elnor is just cosplaying as an elf because Picard left him a copy of Lotr when he was young

Q: Would I be open to exploring Elnors sexuality in s2 and what would it be?

A: I am totally open for that, and as for Elnors sexuality, I’m not sure he’s only 17 he’s just left his planet and gone off on an adventure where he openly knew the success may lead in his death or others he hasn’t had time to figure himself out so seeing his sexuality explored would be amazing

Q: What stories did you hear about working on precious trek series from the OG actors?

A; So we found out Michael Dorn used to muddle his lines up because he was normally the last close up of the day. They used to put bets on to see how many takes he’d have to do. All I must add in very fun spirits nothing ever malicious or mean

Q: My long term career goals

A: id like to keep pursuing more roles I’m acting, I’m a big writer and have some projects I’m looking at getting created but right now I’d say I’m just here to learn and grow

Q: What do I write?

A: right now I’m working on three screenplays and two pilots most of the stuff I’ve written is just sitting on my hard drive just waiting to be used

Q: Ever fried an egg, buttered and vegemite'd some toast and eaten it like a sandwich?

A: what I just read, scared the crap out of me, I love vegemite but the most I’ll do is add cheese to it

Q: What is one of my favourite stories about s1

A: Jeri Ryan and I had a scene together in the borg cube (what a queen she made!) it was shooting at night and I think it was the final shot of the day, we couldn’t keep a straight face and just laughed through about fifteen takes

Q: Are you a big fan of fandom besides Trek?

A: Star Wars, lotr, the magician series Raymond e feist, a song of fire and ice series, avatar last air bender and legend of Korra (would love to play zuko) and of course Batman (fav Jason Todd as the hood)

Q: Could I see myself playing Elnor for six or seven years?

A: as long as there’s a good story that myself and fans will enjoy, but if it didn’t meet my expectations no. And also hopefully the writers and creators would want to

Q: My top TNG eps are in no particular order

I borg, all good things, tapestry, the measure of a man and all good things

I’ll also add I borg especially because it’s just cool seeing where Hugh began and how he ended up

Q: How did I land the role of Elnor?

A: I was on a break from filming Fantasy Island (a movie based off the old tv show) and I was home for pilot season which is when they cast for shows, I had two weeks of daily auditions before I was due to fly back and start filming again, two days before I was meant to leave I got an audition for Picard, the script had a code name and Elnors name was Kbar on it, but I was told it was Star Trek. I went into the room and thought I didn’t do a very good job, then I flew to film and two days later I was told I’ve made a list of people being considered, after a few more auditions and a couple of phone calls from producers and everything I found myself on a plane to LA five weeks later

Q: Have I made friends among the cast?

A: no, we tried really hard to become friends, but unfortunately we ended up becoming a family instead. Everything we say in interviews about us getting along is all true and not fake. I’m the newest to acting out of everyone so I was kind of of shocked to find out that how close we all are isn’t necessarily how it will be when I shoot other projects, so I think we just got lucky or they casted really well

Q: Have the Picard people seen your memes?

A: yes I’ve shown them the memes from the page, I’ve shown everyone including Patrick we find most of them funny (some shocking)

Not shocking in a bad way

Unexpected I should say

Q: How do I feel about the ears?

A: I wore them so much they came up in my dreams, but they were the easiest thing to apply onto me

Q: Which non tng character would I like to see return?

A: I wouldn’t mind seeing the doctor

Q: The most relatable Star Trek character?

A: Look for me growing up it was Wesley, i just picked anyone who was the young one. And I grew up with my sisters and was always being told I’m either wrong, an idiot or just to shut up

Q: Did I have previous martial arts experience before the show?

A: I have a background in boxing which helps when it comes to movement, reflexes and just all around fitness for stunts. I didn’t have any sword fighting experience before we began training for the show however

Q: How do you think being raised by an order of women affected Elnor?

A: I think it gave him a healthy understanding of not only the strength and resilience of women but I think he understands not only gender equality but just equality in general and I think that’s directly to do with growing up in a sect of all female warrior nuns

Q: What is a type of meme you would like to see more of in the group?

A: I love all the memes in the group, I hardly like any of them now incase someone figures out who I am though ahahah

Q: Favorite recent memes?

A: See my comment below

#evan evagora #star trek #star trek: picard #picard #elnor #ama #stsp

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dog2yourbone · 4 years

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Gaby : My Place

Introduction :

After thinking and noting down handfuls of options, thinking what does “my place” mean to me, I’ve chosen to base my project on my mind.

In my life i am present in a lot of places physically, for example my room. But a place i constantly find myself is in my mind, thinking. So I’ve decided this will be ‘My Place’ to show over the next few weeks in my work.

Screen print designs

Today i produced 6 A5 designs to come up with a final one to be turned into a screen print.

For all of them i used a variety of cut out magazines, fineliner, collage and sharpie. The key to creating a successful screen print is ensuring there is bold contrast between light and dark to really exaggerate and show the image well.

To start with, i began looking through my source material of secondary sources from online, my own personal art and photos. I then combined a number of elements from each of these to create 6 different designs.

(above) This was my first design attempt, using sharpie and fineliner. I think this is my weakest design as it isn’t composed well and i just don’t really like it. If i was to improve it, i’d try to make bolder shapes with the bugs rather than messy , which was an intentional design but didn’t come out how i planned.

This is my second design, which i find stronger than the first. I like the simplicity of the design, which i used fineliner for, that contrasts with the sentence as it could have many interpretations making it complex. This design links to my them of thinking a lot, and how it’s important to sometimes step back and try level your head.

This is my third design that i did using just sharpie. I tried creating thick lines to have a sharper and bolder contrast. I don’t think this design is very strong as the imagine of the brain in the middle gets a bit muddled in the background.

My fourth design is made of a magazine cut out thats written on top with fineliner. The contrast in this design was strong when i did a photo copy, which is a good sign it’ll make a good screen. First of all, i tore the picture and then ripped it a bit more to give rough edges, and then i repeatedly wrote the word “think”. This links to my theme because it shows that some people can think a lot, and when reading the words out you find the repetition quite drilling and potentially stressful, which represents how it feels to overthink.

My fifth design is also used with a magazine cut out, with fineliner scribbled around the man in the middle of the image. The fineliner represents negative thoughts, which in real life are obviously invisible. I used this particular image as it seems quite normal and just of an average man walking and going about his day, but the black cloud surrounding him represents what isn’t there to the naked eye , and shows that people can be struggling without you knowing.

I chose this as my final design because i think the composition of the words and the faces is strong. When put through the photo copier, the contrast is also quite strong. I really liked this imagine of the man holding the woman by the arm, because i was able to turn it into a person being almost captured by their negative thoughts, which is represented through the black fineliner on the man’s face. I think the simple scribble over the man’s face creates an ominous feeling because the human features are taken away from the face.

Lino cut designs

I produced 3 A5 designs to help me get a final design to carve into a lino print.

I began by sketching my 3 designs until i was happy with them, and then i used fineliner and sharpie to go over to create the contrast between light and dark, to help my understand what i would need to cut to reach my desired design. For example, the area i cut away, will come out white (or whatever colour the paper is) and the rest of it will be what the ink prints out.

For my first design, i chose to sketch an angel that’s also a skeleton : this represents death. I chose to do this as it links to my theme of ‘my mind’ as i think that death or what comes after is a conversation people sometimes have or just something people will genuinely ponder about. I chose to make the angel expressionless to leave it open to interpretation. For example, some people could see it as sad or ominous where as other people could see it as peaceful or calm as there is no facial expression. I chose to leave the background white as i didn’t want the design to seem overwhelmingly dark and dull as i didn’t want to create a unsettling or depressing tone.

For my second design, i chose to go for a more eerie approach and idea to match my theme. The idea is based around paranoia, so that’s why i chose eyes as sometimes when people are paranoid they feel more watched than usual. I chose to contrast the background as predominantly black to carry on the eerie idea. I used a fineliner to double up the lines of the eye to give the visual affect i’d get when it’s transferred to lino. I then filled in the rest of the background with black sharpie. I don’t think this is my strongest design as it’s messy due to me trying to adjust what areas should be white and black. To neaten it up i could most likely just use a white pen to smooth some of the ares i accidentally got with pen.

For my final design, i chose to go with a haunting image of a head that appears to be crying. I chose this to represent a feeling of being overwhelmed or ‘pushed to tears’ , as a lot of people (especially in recent pandemic times) find themselves stressed. Like my second design, i used a fineliner to double up the mines then filled in the areas i wanted to be black.

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hopevalley · 3 years

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Season 8, Episode 7: Before My Very Eyes

This episode sure was a rollercoaster, wasn’t it?

Let’s dive right on in. :)

Plotlines:

The Love Triangle & Allie’s Adoption

Ned & The Canfields

Christopher’s Performance

Clara and Jesse

I guess you could say the plotlines were better written together/integrated in this episode than in previous ones. There’s a lot going on but most of the filming and plots just...rolled together?

For example, the saloon as the “gathering place” where multiple plot points take place simultaneously was really cool IMO. It helps the town feel livelier.

The Love Triangle & Allie’s Adoption

The love triangle is...an enigma. I’m probably in the minority of not really being that invested in who Elizabeth ends up with, but I doubt I’m in the minority regarding my general feelings on the love triangle: I want it to end.

I think we’re at a point where it’s just super frustrating for everyone involved, and we’re stretching the limits of suspension of disbelief when it comes to the audience.

I don’t think we’d be as harsh on the triangle if we had double the episodes a season. We get a whopping 12 this season, more than we’ve gotten in a long time, so space is limited, and time is limited, and we know she’ll reach a decision toward the end of this season, so there’s that...I don’t know...pressure I guess, on the characters and the episodes to showcase things in a manner that feels natural and moves well.

For what it’s worth I’m fine with Elizabeth’s turtle-pace, but with only 6 episodes left (5 after this episode aired), knowing she’ll pick someone soon (and it will probably be Nathan)... It makes it really difficult to stomach the Lucas scenes—not because I don’t want to see her with Lucas if she won’t end up with him, but because I feel really bad for Lucas!

Especially with the intense fourth-wall-breaking level of awareness Lucas seems to have regarding the situation. Yes, I’m talking about the line he quoted.

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not.”

That’s only half the quote. This is the full quote:

“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sure, it’s applied to Henry, but it seems almost...too knowledgeable to me?

So, the quote is from the novel Hyperion: A Romance, published in 1839. Longfellow’s wife Mary died in 1836 after a miscarriage. Overwhelmed by grief Longfellow took trips to Europe and spent seven years trying to woo Frances Appleton. She eventually agreed to marry him.

Hyperion was inspired by this. Paul is the main character. He travels through Germany after the death of a friend, and falls in love with an Englishwoman named Mary Ashburton. She rejects him.

To say this was a thinly-veiled autobiography of sorts is, uh, an understatement. To have Lucas quoting it in When Calls the Heart feels...odd. It wouldn’t surprise me if this was an omen of sorts, but...we can’t forget Lucas’s parents’ history: his mother refused to marry his father for years, just like Frances refused to marry Longfellow.

It’s not a bad quote or anything...it’s just...frustratingly on the nose.

I did appreciate Elizabeth’s admission of not wanting to be one of Lucas’s “secret sorrows.” They’re courting publicly anyway, everyone knows it. It’s time for them to be a little more open about it, at least in little ways. Him squeezing her hand on the saloon table shouldn’t be a big deal at this point.

If this was the storyline we were getting for Elizabeth (her slowly working her way toward something with Lucas) I’d be happy with it. I’m still Team Nathan but I like Lucas a lot this season and would be content with a storyline for him.

THE THING IS...I don’t think that is going to happen, and it makes me feel terrible to see him getting strung along like this. Elizabeth doesn’t come off as “has feelings for Lucas and is just nervous about showcasing it” for multiple reasons. First, she was very PDA-like with Jack, and secondly, that’s just...not how the scenes seem to be written. You can assume her reasoning but she never once is the one initiating and then backing off. He always initiates. She always backs off. It’s unbalanced and makes me feel bad for Lucas.

I really hope we get to sit inside his head a bit longer/more seriously at some point. Maybe he’s aware of her feelings for Nathan and is willing to try anyway because he believes that to some extent love is a choice? That would be really interesting tbh.

As it is, I just feel sorry for Lucas. Not that I think Elizabeth wouldn’t have hangups with Nathan, too, but I just feel like Elizabeth’s hangups with Nathan are more fear of what she is feeling/fear of what could happen to him in the future/fear of her heart being broken again, whereas with Lucas it’s almost like she’s not feeling it and trying to force that kind of affection with him makes her feel weird/gross/bad.

I definitely think she has a good friendship base with Lucas, but if the feelings aren’t there, they aren’t there.

Sorry, my thoughts are muddled. There wasn’t a lot going on with the triangle in this episode in terms of...triangley things. I just wish Elizabeth would choose so that the plotline could go away. I’m tired of seeing people strung along.

Nathan was pretty good in this episode. I appreciated his talk with Allie a lot; choosing to be kind and want good things for someone you like is a good example to set. I feel like in the café Allie’s dialogue about Elizabeth smiling at him was off; she probably should have said something more like, “If she doesn’t like you like that, then why does she smile at you that way?” might have sounded better. (He could have said “what way?” and she could have batted her eyes at him lmao.) Allie already knows Elizabeth is courting Lucas...and if we’re to believe the smile directed at Nathan is what tips Allie’s invite consideration to her adoption ceremony, then that would have been a better way to approach it (instead of “Did you see the way she smiled at you?!”).

I really loved that Lucas got Nathan and Allie a little gift. Honestly I just want Lucas and Nathan to be friends or something because the actors have good chemistry together and there’s a shortage of good male friendships in the show that feel Good. I wonder if we’ll find out what the gift was at any point?

The end with Allie only inviting Elizabeth to the ceremony was hilarious. I wanted to actually see the ceremony (because Nathan promising not to leave her was SUCH a good line, I almost got emotional over that and I wanted to see it put into play again) but the imagery it left us with (it looks like a wedding...) was clear enough haha.

Poor Bill, stuck in the middle of that.

Speaking of Bill, the adoption being “on him” was really sweet. And then of course Bill can’t keep the moment tender because he’s always so Uncomfortable with Feelings, but it’s still very sweet.

Ned & The Canfields

I don’t have a whole lot to say here, but I really appreciated this storyline. It wasn’t the best-written surgery-medical-wise, but it felt heartfelt and that’s what matters.

Florence running around trying to do everything herself while also stressing out about Ned really felt...real. And then of course Rosemary getting appointed to the phones and gossiping forever...hahah.

I’m glad I saw the writing on the wall with Joseph; of course he’s a former pastor! I really am intrigued by what his “plans” are that are not church-related. I like that they tried not to make him exactly like Frank, but boy what I wouldn’t give to see them both pastoring in Hope Valley. Then Joseph could pursue his dream while also pastoring a bit, and so could Frank. It’d be nice, and they’d probably get along swell.

Seeing more faith/prayer in the show has been great. Also, Joseph and Minnie are so cute together... I adore them.

Christopher’s Performance

And here we are, talking about the man of the hour... Christopher. Henry’s “secret sorrow” or the product of Henry’s secret sorrow? It almost makes me think he got over Nora with Christopher’s mother and she cut off ties with him and married Jerry the banker.

Henry’s opinion of Jerry is obviously not great, but he’s respectful enough to not talk badly about him. It makes me wonder if Jerry is a worse man than Henry is, though. Maybe so? I wonder if we’ll get more information about it.

They really did a good casting job with Christopher; he manages to look similar enough to Henry and kind of...mimic his way of smiling and movement that’s almost uncanny.

Of course...as Rosemary says, she knows a performance when she sees one.

I’m wondering if Bill feels similarly...

But boy do we know how Lucas feels! Lee tells Lucas that his pocketwatch has been missing “about a week now.”

Lucas confronts Christopher and instead of Christopher being like, “Oh no! I’ll keep my eyes open in case he dropped it somewhere or maybe the chain broke!” he’s really sarcastic about it?

He then tries for the second time to control Lucas (treats him like...he can order him around/bully him) by asking if Lucas found him a bigger room yet. This dude has a serious ego. The sound of Lucas intentionally shutting the door after this was delicious, though.

“If I find that you’re picking pockets, I don’t care who you are or why you’re here. You’ll be on the next stage out of town.”

Christopher just...almost smiles and stands up. “I didn’t steal any watch.”

Lucas says, “And I should believe you?”

Christopher responds with, “That’s your choice.”

Lucas leaves, and then Christopher pulls the watch out of his pocket.

He seems to feel a little guilty when he reads the inscription...but still. He’s so skeevy.

And then he takes the flowers Jesse drops off the ground...to give to...Rachel... Honey, you got a big storm comin’... She knows he’s bad news but I guess she’s into it. Yikes.

And then we have the scene where Mike comes to Henry with a great idea he has, and is interrupted by the arrival of Christopher. Henry tells him he wants him to teach Christopher everything he knows. Mike’s enthusiasm dries up right away.

I think Mike also realizes Christopher is bad news.

And Henry’s just so excited to be “looked up to” and “seen as a father of sorts” that he can’t see what’s right in front of him. Normally he’d be attuned to bullshit just as clearly as Bill and Rosemary and the rest, but...his bias is in the way. He wants to fix his past so bad he doesn’t realize it might not be worth it...

I hope Mike keeps his idea to himself but I have a super bad awful feeling he’ll admit it to Christopher and then Christopher will pitch it to Henry as his own idea. I feel sick just thinking of it!

Clara and Jesse

Clara and Jesse were starting to repair things juuust every so slightly and then he gets mad that she’s shortening her skirt and...it all goes to hell.

It’s not that I don’t love a little drama but this is just...I don’t know. Maybe too much? I liked Clara’s discussion with Joseph because he tells her the honest truth (and he’s full of advice, for better or worse, just like me HAHA): you can’t repair your marriage if you’re not around one another to even begin to heal the wounds/talk about things.

I’m not very invested in these two as characters these days, and I’m not sure what would fix it, but this spat being dragged out for ages ain’t it right now. I’m keeping an open mind, though; it could go somewhere interesting...and at least it didn’t get resolved in one episode.

Also, I appreciated Clara venting to Bill in that “I still care about him very much way” while Bill tries (somewhat awkwardly) to support her choice(s). He’s in a bit of a tough spot; he can’t offer advice freely because not many people are going to take marriage advice from a divorced man who didn’t marry for love in the first place anyway. It’s just good to see him trying to act supportive for Clara.

Other thoughts:

I see we’re getting more of the plotline where Bill has to give up his uniform, but he actually made a really good point in this episode about that. He did earn it! And then insult to injury...trying to make him give up his horse, too?

It’s cute that his horse’s name is Hero; I feel like that was stated much earlier in the show (maybe S3 or S4?) but I’d forgotten it, tbh. How wholesome.

“Am I being prideful?” I think this was a good question for Bill to ask, and honestly it probably took a bit of courage for him to even ask Lee about it/admit that maybe he was being a bit prideful. But like, it’s okay to take pride in your work/the work you’ve done. He did earn all of it and it’s not really fair to ask for him to give it all up. The jacket is one thing (it’s a physical item; yes it shows all the hard work he put in but it’s just an object), but the horse? That’s an emotional bond and it’s rather cruel to break it.

Lee excited to try on the jacket was literally the cutest thing, and I loved that Bill folded and let him try it on. Honestly? Lee looked pretty good in it!

That scene was the definition of BOYS WILL BE BOYS, hahaha.

Also, Elizabeth’s line: “Haven’t you ever lost someone so close to your heart that it tears you apart?” was SO CRINGEY. I don’t know how that made it into the finished episode. Please, writers... read this shit aloud before you film the show. READ ALL YOUR WRITING ALOUD TO HEAR THE CADANCE. I’m literally begging you.

But also, the whole concept is still cringe. You don’t know Dylan, Elizabeth. You didn’t know Colleen. You don’t know if he loved Colleen or not. You don’t know why he ran out on Allie. You’re projecting? Maybe? But even if he did fall to pieces over Colleen’s death, that was no reason to hurt poor Allie who had nothing to do with it and did nothing wrong.

They should have edited the line to say something slightly different. “Tears you to pieces” would have sufficed. And not rhymed on accident.

Last thing for now...the lack of Carson and Faith in this episode was amazing. I know the surgery with Ned will push Carson to either take the fellowship and return to Hope Valley to be of more use there and/or push him to just stay where he is because there’s no one else in the area with his skill level.

I think I’ll be happy with it if he becomes an area surgeon more than a regular doctor... it would help him and Faith both feel necessary for different reasons. And also, he was a surgeon when he arrived in Hope Valley in S4, so it’s clearly his strongest point (and best training/experience).

So uh, how ‘bout that preview for next episode, though? WHOA.

Hopefully this isn’t too scattered; work has gotten a lot busier since the weather got nicer, so I have less time to write without interruption lmao.

#when calls the heart #season 8 spoilers #season 8 shenanigans #analysis and meta discussion #character studies and information

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