i have a lot of feels towards these two scenes don't mind me

anonymous asked:

I'd love to hear your thoughts on La La Land's ending! If you don't mind.

SO HERE WE GO. I’ve heard a lot of think pieces/complaining about how the movie is about hollywood, or white men saving jazz, or unrealistically fulfilling your dreams all at once, etc., but I don’t see how you can watch that ending and come away with those things. Sure, the movie dabbles in all of that, and you can make commentary on how unrealistic that is, or in the case of John Legend’s role in the movie, how shitty it is—but then, there’s that ending. That glorious, perfect pitched ending.

The last we see of Mia and Sebastian together, they’re making a choice many of us have or will make in our lives; a turning point in a relationship, where you have to choose what you’re willing to sacrifice, or give to keep the love that you have. They make what I would say, as a person who has made this very choice, the right choice, and seperate for the good of their careers. And realistically, painfully so, that is a lasting break—we jump five years, and things have happened that make their separation permanent (Mia is married, she has a child). That’s startling and, because it happens so quickly instead of the slow and quiet way that it occurs in real life, unbelievable. We think, they’re playing a trick on us, this can’t possibly be where this movie of sparkling lights and love songs is going to end. But the longer the scene goes on, and we see Mia in the car with her husband, so comfortable, it starts to set in, and then, even though we know it’s coming, when she sees the sign at his club—the sign she made for him—we feel the way she does. It’s been five years for her, and she has that space that we, as an audience, were not given from the main storyline, so she’s surprised, and suddenly longing, and that’s an emotion we can feel. 

But the ending isn’t about where Mia finds herself, it’s about Sebastian. He plays his song, and the fantasy begins for him and we get to go along with it. Mia may have moved on, but Sebastian is closer to us, he still feels that sting when he sees her, much worse then she felt. The cinematography here is beautiful, and the music carries us through it, and it’s satisfying, just to retrace the steps of where we have already been with these characters, to hear the same cords they sang together. You can’t tell me it didn’t hit you when, in the bar, the music swelled and he walked right up to kiss her. 

Because this is from Sebastian’s point of view, we see the way he wished it had been, how they could have stayed together, and it is so firmly planted in what he could have done differently. Mia still takes the audition, gets the job, goes to Paris, but he never takes that job with the band, he’s there at her show, he goes to Paris with her. His fantasy includes being there for her, in a way that he never really was during their relationship. He puts her, her dreams and ambitions, first, so that in the end, Mia ends up exactly where she is now, where she’s meant to be, but she’s married to him instead. And even while he’s thinking of it, the unreality of that situation bleeds in—through the film set, the Van Gogh-esque swirls of Paris. It could never have been real, because he was a different man then, he would have always made those choices. He had yet to learn his lesson.

In the end, they are able to smile at each other and part again, because this isn’t a love story. This is a story about growing up. It’s a story about how a person can mean so much to you during one point in your life, how they can change you, can take up all of the space in your world completely, and how much you can love them in that moment—and how beautiful that is. It isn’t lasting, it’s not guaranteed, it’s something you may regret and dwell on over and over later, but it is beautiful. Sebastian’s dream looks so unreal because not only did it not happen, it couldn’t have happened; there were a gulf of reasons why the two of them never would have worked out, even if he had gone with her to Paris. 

But they changed each other. They nudged each other towards their futures. They were each other’s turning point, towards success, their dreams, all the things that felt out of reach when they met. So when they said, before they parted, I will always love you, what they really meant was; I will always love what you have given me. 

I know that SuperCorp is very unlikely to happen because Sanvers is already a thing, but between us… that’s bullshit.

Tv shows should always aim to reach out for the audience, capturing their interest - on a side trying to represent them and on the other trying to surprising them. We’re getting a hint of representation of the LGBT community (and I’m not saying LGBTQA+, because that part of the community is practically nonexistent according to the media) right now, which is definitely not enough, and what we get is rarely a quality product (for the most part, we’re used to make jokes, which isn’t representation, but more likely cheap comedy). We frequently get little screen-time, poor character development (he’s gay, what else is there to say?) and yes, we often get to DIE too (for the benefit of famous “shock value”… which doesn’t shock anybody, really, since it happens almost all the time). What we don’t get is main roles, good backstories, characters who are not only defined by their sexual orientation and… well, to live, to grow and get to be happy on screen (what an absurd concept, am I right?).

Supergirl has done an incredible job by representing Alex Danvers’ coming out story: it showed its audience how a strong, brave woman like Alex can still be very fragile and struggle with this kind of realization; how she fears to accept herself, to be fully herself and out with the people she cares the most about, and more importantly how things can actually go well. This is damn important, ‘cause it helps a lot of people to think that “Hey, maybe my family won’t take it this badly” or “Maybe my friends will accept me” and “Maybe things will change for the better!”, ‘cause guess what? IT CAN HAPPEN AND IT HAPPENS! But this is not very interesting to show, apparently, ‘cause most of the time it’s all freaking dramatic and it ends in tragedy.

The new generations are already lucky, ‘cause now there is something like this (Supergirl) on Tv, but it’s not enough still, ‘cause they’re portraying a tiny fragment of their audience, of the people around the world, and if you think “But it’s a lot already”, I’m gonna tell you that the straights have every single damn shade from every single damn angle for their representation on screen, while we are barely there and almost never the main character or anything close to that. Yes, there are movies in which we are protagonists, but let’s be real, they’re almost always centered on our sexual orientation, the discovery and the consequences, which is helpful and good to see, but it’s not everything there’s to see and to know. Plus, they really abuse of the dramatic factor of it in order to “send a message”, but that’s a message wasted on the straights, and if they think you’re an abomination already, surely a movie won’t change their minds. Instead, it will just fuel fear in us, which - there’s no really need to say it - it’s bad (we unfortunately have reality for that).

I remember my probably very first approach to the whole “girls liking girls” thing thanks to the media.
I was a kid and I was watching this movie on the Tv. I remember only pieces of it, ‘cause I don’t think I was paying much attention until a certain point. What I still recall, though, stuck in my head for a reason.
There were two girls, one white and the other brown, that grew closer to each other (I seriously don’t remember anything about whatever was the rest of the story). I recall this very specific scene that had me and my sister (who was also watching) like: “Oh, they are helping each other undressing ‘cause they’re friends”. When they started making out we were like “Oh… Okay, so they’re not just friends, apparently”, and that was it. I don’t think we knew about all the hatred towards people of same sex being in love with each other, to us it was just like “Okay, this is a thing that exists: acknowledged”. They seemed to be fine, so there was no issue… right? WRONG!
The white girl’s brother saw them, got angry as shit, took a gun and started shooting at them. They got into a car, trying to get away from him, but he got into another and started chasing them. It was raining, they were scared as shit, he looked insane, I felt the anguish growing inside of me: it was awful (again, I was a kid at the time).
The car slipped, then fell down a bridge into a river/lake and it quickly sank. After a while, only the white girl emerged from the water. The other drowned.
Last scene that I remember was a time jump where the white girl was a now a white granny, and she was probably remembering this terrible thing that happened to her once.

No fucking wonder if growing up I didn’t want to be gay and I pushed down my feelings and thoughts, since this is the kind of message to which I was subjected. And now? Now there are some things that portray the whole “being gay” as normal (as it always should be) and not in a dramatic, catastrophic way, but it’s also true that we get shows like The 1OO, Person of Interest, Orange Is The New Black, Pretty Little Liars, The Walking Dead and many, many, many others where the lesbian freaking dies, where there is no happy ending for us.

It’s simply not okay.

But to finally address the very main reason why I started this post - that no one will read ‘cause it’s too long, and people have time only for thoughts as long as a tweet - is the importance to acknowledge the presence of MORE THAN ONE GAY CHARACTER in a story. In a story AND in a family. Yes, as crazy as it sounds, we are more than two and we indeed can have LGBTQA+ wonderful siblings. Madness, right? Except that it’s not, it’s our reality, which is way more colorful, interesting and beautiful than the arid one-sided representation we witness on daily basis (I’m talking about heteronormative).

So, what really drives me nuts, it’s not the fact that people seem to be scared shitless to insert us in anything (although we’re everywhere), but how little crafty they are. We have proven to be a real force of nature over the whole LGBT Fans Deserve Better initiative, which raised by far $166,547 for the Trevor Project, and we did that after being smacked down once again by showrunners. Can you imagine what we could do if people were fair to us, for a change? We’re loyal, passionate, absurdly creative and talented (have you ever seen our fanArts, read our fanfictions? They’re often better than the original stuff and we don’t get paid a coin for making them), and yet we hardly get anything.

Tv shows should listen to their audience and get smart, because it’s not a pink UFO the thing we’re asking for, it’s not something that won’t fit their story, but simply more good representation. Supergirl scored with Sanvers, but there’s still so much potential that is sadly going to waste, and if they opened their eyes they would see it.

Do you want a great, original idea? Be fair and listen.

The Oracle

A/N: I bring you the thing I had wanted to write in like forever: the saltiest reunion yet. But come on, did you really think I’d leave this character out? Not a chance.

Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan. AU by @doodledrawsthings. Enjoy.

Part 1

Part 2 

“He is awake.”

“So soon?” Jheselbraum casts a look at at dimension 46’/, where Mabel Pines reaches to shake the hand of the monster they defeated only a year or so ago. “I would have expected at least a few more centuries.”

“I’m sure you know that time is relative.” The is a tone of amusement in the Ancient’s words. “It has been a lot longer than that.”

The Oracle takes that in, watching the events in Stanford’s home dimension play out, and hums in amusement, “‘A different form’,” she repeats to herself, “You couldn’t resist the irony, could you?”

The Axolotl chuckles, “Rather fitting, considering the many times humanity was deceived by him.”

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horizonproblems reblogged your post and added:

If you don’t mind me asking - what are thoughts on Kaladin/Shallan as a (potential) romantic couple? Recently someone told me that they think there’s a lot of unresolved sexual/romantic tension between the two, and I… Just don’t see it, partially because of what you mention here (boots scene, chasm scene, Kaladin generally being exasperated in Shallan’s presence and thinking so).
I’m not trying to start a ship war (I don’t really care if people ship it, personally I headcanon Kaladin as aroace), so I understand if you don’t want to answer this! But I know that as an aromantic person a lot of the romance nuance/flirting stuff flies right over my head, so I was left wondering if my initial assessment was blatantly wrong…

I wanted to respond to this in a separate post lest the conversation overtake themalhambird’s original, so…

First, a necessary preface:  I have been crossing my fingers against Kaladin/Shallan since… before WoK came out.  I happened to read a galley copy, and pretty much as soon as I saw the descriptions they get in the flap copy, I had the sinking feeling that they would be the Designated Hetero Hero Ship.  The fact that they didn’t meet at all in WoK was gratifying!  But… WoR.

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Having an exit plan.

Hello, love bugs !!

Dan x reader

 Warnings – anxiety, panic attacks, agoraphobia, social anxiety, Claustrophobia. 

Could you please do a Dan x reader that has Agoraphobia? Thanks:)

Vid-Con it can literally be the best or worst time in your life. Meeting your favourite You Tubers and meeting all sorts of new friends was a given. The biggest problem for you, however, was the crowds of people. Dan and Phil always made sure you felt as safe as possible. The security team was the best that you could ever ask for. The biggest problem for you was the sheer amount of people. Even though you could always take a break from the crowds you felt this weird sense of duty to meet and talk to anyone that wanted to talk to you. Having tons of people waiting just as long to talk to Dan and Phil just to talk to you made you feel terrible if you heard that someone was upset they didn’t get to meet you.

 Ever since your relationship become public your life changed more than you ever expected. Your Tumblr and snap chat were the only social medias you had public. You would spend hours at night just talking to people on Tumblr. People would send you asks about your relationship with Dan to questions about anything and everything. Meeting all of these people in person was weird. They knew so much about you while you were just getting to know them. 

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Don't Leave: Yoongi Smut

Prompt: You and Yoongi are friends but it turns into something more. Requested by @deadlyniightshade

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: This scenario contains sexually explicit themes. Read at your own discretion.

In the corner of the room, with a drink in your hand, you sat quietly observing. The cup was full; you’d only taken two sips from the spiked eggnog. The only reason you had a drink at all was to fit in to the party scene around you.

Taehyung had been successful in his attempts at getting you to come to a Christmas party. With over 100 texts, and him practically begging, you’d reluctantly agreed.

And now, there you sat, alone after Tae had wandered off and left you. You didn’t know anyone there and didn’t really even like parties at all, so you secluded yourself to a cozy armchair by the fire. Christmas tunes drifted through the air and you found yourself humming along.

After an hour and no sign of Tae, you felt bored out of your mind. A few people had tried to approach you and make small talk, but none of it lasted long as they moved on to find a more interesting guest to talk to. You would have given anything to make the mind numbing boring feeling leave.

The door opening a half hour later made you look up from your phone screen. A familiar mop of mint green hair walked through the door smiling and greeting his friends. Your heart swelled at the sight of him and you immediately scowled, trying to suppress the feeling.

Min Yoongi.

The boy you’d had a crush on in university. You’re best friend who was there for you through every shitty relationship. The boy you left behind because loving someone who didn’t feel the same way back tore you apart. And he had just walked back into your life, just like he walked through that door.

It took all of your energy to stay in your seat. You wanted nothing more than to run and hug him. To reconnect and never let him out of your sight again, but you held back. You’d hurt him when you left, no word or explanation to let him know why. It tore him apart and you didn’t know how he felt towards you now. So you sat and tried to remain inconspicuous.

All of that was destroyed a few minutes later when he happened to glance over and catch your eyes with his. The smile vanished from his face in remarkable time, but his eyes never broke contact until another guy came up and patted him on the back. He seemed to say something before walking away from the group and making his way towards you.

The shock on your face seemed to amuse him and you squeaked out, “No, no, no!” to yourself. Once he had made his way over, he tapped you, signaling for you to scooch over and you reluctantly did. A few minutes of awkward silence and stiffness passed before he spoke up.

“So, long time, no see, (Y/N)-ah,” his casual tone had you cringing. How could he be so civil when you felt like you were about to burst? Would he get to the point already? Start yelling so that you could get this horrible confrontation over with? You were dragged from your thoughts when you felt two eyes on you.

“Why are you here?” You blurted out before you could stop it. “Sorry, that was a bit rude…”

“I know what you meant. I’m friends with Kim Taehyung. Do you know him?” He rested his arm on the seat behind you. Your cheeks heated up and your skin felt itchy. The casual conversation was getting to you and you looked at the fire, wondering if it was a viable option to throw yourself into the flames.

“Taetae?” You asked almost absentmindedly, forgetting about the nickname.

“Taetae? Oh man, I’m never letting him live that down,” he chuckled. The laugh was the last string that you could take and you blurted out words again.

“Why aren’t you mad? Why are you here, talking to me like I never left? Like I’m not a shitty person who left you in the dust without telling you anything,” you wiped angrily at the tears that leaked from your eyes, embarrassed to be crying in public.

He sighed. A thoughtful look crossed over his face and he stayed silent for a few minutes, contemplating. Finally, he looked into your eyes and tilted his head, studying you.

“I’m not mad,” he said simply.

“What- you- you’re not- what?” You stuttered and stumbled through your words, not even creating a coherent sentence.

“I’m not mad,” he repeated. “I know how scary it is to like someone… To not think that they like you back. To have it consume you completely and wholly. It hurt…. a lot. But, I understand.”

“You- you knew?” You squeaked out. He barked out a sharp laugh and the arm around the back of the couch came around your shoulder and pulled you into him.

“I knew because I felt the same way for a long time. When you left… I talked to Taehyung about it and he told me you liked me too, but I was scared. I was so fucking scared, so I stayed away. But here you are tonight. And here I am too.”

“Seems a bit like fate doesn’t it,” you chuckled.

“I wouldn’t call it fate, exactly. This is my house, idiot,” he teased. “I went out to grab more snacks. Taehyung set this whole thing up. And later if you still feel the same way as before you left, when everyone leaves, I’m going to fuck you right on this very chair,” and with that he got up and began his mingling again. Your cheeks turned red and the surprised “O” on your face put the confident smirk back on his. Your body was suddenly very warm and you considered moving away from the fire.

He kept a careful eye on you from around the house the rest of the night. He wanted to make sure you didn’t run off on him again, but with his promise in your mind, he had nothing to worry about.

Finally, after an hour of sitting and waiting, only Taehyung was left talking to Yoongi at the door. It was clear that Yoongi was giving all of his efforts to get Tae to leave you two alone, but Taehyung was as oblivious as ever. Yoongi eventually scoffed and leaned in to whisper something in Tae’s ear. His faced turned surprised as his eyes flickered over to you. He nodded eagerly at whatever Yoongi had told him, and it didn’t take long for his signature shit eating grin to grace his features.

“Oh! Okay, hyung,” you managed to hear him chuckle. He looked back in your direction one last time before making his departure. “Have fun, (Y/N)-ah!”

After what seemed like ages, you two were alone. A heavy feeling hung over the entire apartment and the light Christmas music did nothing to help break the tension. Yoongi stayed by the door surveying you, his head tilted in thought. You swallowed hard, unsure of how to act under his predatory stare.

“After all this time, is it possible that you become even more beautiful than I remember?” he spoke up. Your cheeks darkened, and you broke the gaze by looking down to your twiddling fingers.

“Look at me,” his words, although soft spoken, held a power you simply couldn’t deny. Your eyes returned to his. They seemed noticeably darker than they had only a minute before. He sauntered over to you slowly, leaving enough time for the heartbeat in your chest to quicken. Then, before you knew it, he was in front of you, his hands resting on the armrests on both sides of you. His face leaned precariously close to yours, only a few inches separating your lips.

“Before I… I need to know that you feel the same way. I need to know that this isn’t a one night thing. I need to know that you’ll still be here in the morning so I can hold you in my arms. I can’t have you leave with my heart again,” his eyes bore into yours.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you breathed out. In the next instant, his lips were on yours. You responded with the heat of all the pent up emotions you’d concealed, with the pain of leaving someone you loved, with the love that swelled in your chest. Your fingers reached up to grab handfuls of his hair and lightly tug at the gossamer strands. He groaned into the kiss, and his hands left their place in the armrests to hold your waist.

You squealed when he lifted you up and traded places with him. He sat back in the chair, and you straddled his lap. The kiss was only broken for a moment as you adjusted to the new position. He hardly gave you a few seconds before his hands returned to your waist and tugged you into him, the feverish kiss continued.

You could feel him beneath you, growing harder by the minute. Warmth spread through your body at the realization that he really did feel the same as you did. Taking the initiative to return the feeling, you grinded down on him and he let out a throaty growl.

“I missed you,” he growled out, and the fingers on your waist dug in almost painfully. This spurred you on, and you continued on with you ministrations, occasionally stopping to roll your hips or swirl them in figure eights. He almost couldn’t kiss you, the pleasure from your movements making him groan and throw his head back.

“I missed you, too,” you breathed out. Your hands rested on his shoulders as they supported your weight. His hands ran under your shirt and lifted it up to your shoulders before you helped him remove it entirely. He took a moment to appreciate your chest and run his fingers over the lacy cream material. His lips moved in to press soft kisses along your collarbones and breasts. Slowly, his kisses became harder and more urgent as he began to suck deep scarlet marks.

The feverish kissing didn’t stop until you were both nearly naked, clad only in underwear. The room was quiet other than heavy breathing and the fire crackling. You stared into each other’s eyes; the weight of what you were about to do hung in the air.

“Are you okay?” He was the one to break the silence. “I don’t want to ruin this. We can go back to never talking… It’ll kill me harder than last time but I only want this if-”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you cut him off.

“I can do that,” his eyes were noticeably darker. Before you had a chance to make a snarky reply, his boxers were pushed down and your panties were pushed to the side. The swollen head of his cock was pushed against your entrance, and again the atmosphere was thick with tension. Without breaking eye contact, he began to ease himself into you. His face held immense concentration as he focused on giving you time to adjust instead of mercilessly pounding into you.

The wait was too much, you’re body too needy. With a huff, you pushed yourself down and bottomed out on him. He let out a strangled noise from the back of his throat and you thought his fingernails had surely raised blood on your hips.

“Oh, fuck,” his yelp rang out across the apartment. You let out your own hum of approval at the feeling of him filling you so completely. All your life, you didn’t think you had ever felt so whole.

“Yoongi, you feel so good,” you moaned. Neither of you had moved yet, instead choosing to bask in the feeling of each other. He could hardly reply, his face screwed up in pleasure.

“(Y/N), baby, I need you to move,” he moaned out. His forehead was covered in sweat from the exertion and his teeth were clenched. You relaxed your body and allowed him to guide your movements. Your arousal allowed him to move easily, sliding out of your slick heat. He didn’t waste time setting a brutal pace, one that you could hardly keep up with.

“You feel so good,” he huffed. You clenched around him for good measure and his face scrunched up. “Fuck. Do that again,” he bit his lip his lip so hard that you were afraid he would draw blood. You continued to work yourself on him and he let out strings of curse words.

It didn’t take long for the strange feeling to begin in your stomach. It started as a low heat, building and flowering through your limbs. Your movements became frantic as you rode him, desperately chasing the high. When he brushed against the sensitive spot inside of you, stars erupted behind your eyes.

“Yoongi, I’m so close. I’m so close, so close,” you whined. His hips were stuttering and his rhythm was sporadic, signaling that he was close too. One hand left your hips and trailed down to your sensitive, swollen bud. His fingers swiped circles over your clit and the white heat began to release itself through your body.

“Come for me, baby,” he rasped. You were gone. The electricity exploded inside of you and you let out a scream before your vision went completely white. It was the strongest orgasm you’d ever had in your entire life and the sparks didn’t cease. Your whole body felt aglow and tingly.

Yoongi’s movements were sloppy as you realized that he had come and was riding out his own pleasure. While you were preoccupied in your own bliss, you hadn’t even noticed him spill his hot liquid inside you. His hips eventually stopped moving and his head fell against the chair. You allowed your sweaty form to fall forward as your draped yourself across him. The room fell back into the soft sounds of heavy breathing and crackling fire.

You laid together like that for a few minutes until he gently lifted you off of him, the both of you wincing. He reached around you to grab a tissue and cleaned the sticky come from your thighs, then gently placed your underwear back in place and slipped himself back in his boxers. He moved you so that he was cradling you against his still warm skin, and you hummed.

“Sorry about these,” he ran his fingers over the angry red welts on your hips.

“They’ll heal,” you mused. You honestly didn’t care. In fact, the marks would serve as a beautiful reminder for the next few days or so. “I won’t leave again,” you said a few minutes later. He didn’t reply but instead tugged you as close to him as he could.

“Good. I wouldn’t let you go anyway. Not again,” he peppered kisses down your face and you smiled.

After all this time, everything would be okay again. That you were sure of.

Okay. Let's talk about Elphaba Thropp.

(Inspired by this post here.) Note that I’m not sure I can write this without giving spoilers for Wicked, both the book and the musical. I’ll do my best, but you have been warned.

Now. For those who don’t know, Wicked is a novel by Gregory Maguire exploring the backstory of the woman who becomes the Wicked Witch of the West: Elphaba. It’s also the wildly popular stage musical inspired by said book.

Now. As fans of Wicked will know, Elphaba and Glinda (and if you don’t know who Glinda is, I fear I’ll have to send you back to The Wizard of Oz) are best friends in both versions of the story. In the book, it’s important; in the musical, it’s central. I think one can make an argument that either or both of them could be bi, or whatever the Ozian term would be.

Elphaba’s only clearly visible relationship, in both versions of the story, is with (spoilers) Fiyero, a Winkie prince. In the musical there’s a love triangle involving the two of them and Glinda; in the book there’s no such thing, but Glinda is stated to have married some lord or other. But they are also super close to each other. It’s more obvious in the book; in one scene Elphaba calls Glinda “my sweet” and kisses her goodbye. I swear there’s a reference to sharing a bed somewhere, and how brave and vulnerable it made Glinda feel, but I’m having trouble finding it. (Help, anyone? I think it was fairly late in the book, after Dorothy arrives in Oz.) But the hints are clear enough that even my former seventeen-year-old self (who was barely out and really not attuned to spotting this stuff) could pick up on them. In the sequels to Wicked it’s even clearer: even the author ships them, I think. Elphaba isn’t a viewpoint character very much, so it’s often hard to tell how she feels, but in my mind it’s darned obvious that Glinda fell in love with Elphaba, though she may not have known it at the time.

They still both show interest in male characters; so I would peg them as bi. (Worth noting is that Elphaba’s son, in the sequels, is also bi, and it’s spelled out a hell of a lot better.)In the musical, alas, all this is way toned down. It’s possible to read Glinda and Elphaba as very close friends, but both straight (no thanks to the Fiyero love triangle). This kind of annoys me because, well, Wicked is a really popular show. Really popular. And the Glinda-Elphaba relationship is the heart of the show; their final duet, “For Good,” is very nearly a love song. There’s a thriving “Gelphie” sector of the fandom, as you might imagine; I’m part of it. In my head, Glinda/Elphaba is a love story that never had a chance to come true, but for reasons entirely unrelated to the fact that they’re both girls. That is, perhaps, why I ship it as hard as I do. (I also quite like Fiyero/Elphaba, which can get confusing, but my personal attractions lean so much towards girls that at the end of the day, it’s Gelphie. Or headcanon-poly-Elphaba. Or both. But I digress.)If Glinda/Elphaba was just a bit more obviously canon, especially in the musical, the two of them would be some really wonderfully mainstream queer characters. As-is, it’s subtle, and to me it’s frustratingly easy to, well, straight-wash them.

But then, Wicked remains one of the only fantasy novels I own with even a potentially-queer main character. And when you’re seventeen and barely out, sometimes subtle representation can be a godsend—if you know where to find it.

madgirlspoem  asked:

Hello again! Two things that always intrigued me: why is Mycroft's assistant the one arranging for John to meet Irene at Battersea? Why is she working for Irene and does this mean so is Mycroft? Does Mycroft want John and Irene to have a showdown?? And why does she say "I don't think so--do you?" to John when they realize Sherlock heard their exchange? It always made me think she's saying "if you're not ready to come clean to him, why bother chase him down?" Thoughts? As always thank you!

Hi! Sorry for the delay on replying to this :p 

As far as I understand, the woman who goes to meet John in ASiB is not actually Anthea; this is proven in the shoe itself:

They do share an uncanny resemblance, but no, they’re not both Anthea. I find it amusing for two reasons: one, John then obviously thinks Mycroft has this plethora of beautiful women to kidnap John (though I think it was more the car that made him think this; Mycroft “borrows” John in the exact same car in previous episodes); and two, they both bear a striking resemblance to Sherlock, and I believe they were both hit on by John because of this resemblance. I read a meta on this – be damned if I could find it right now – but basically Irene knows John is attracted to Sherlock, so she sends a Sherlock clone to pick him up and lure him in. I think this is also a subtextual nod to ASiP. But I digress.

As for the Irene / Mycroft / John showdown, no, Battersea, I don’t think, had anything to do with Mycroft. The ONLY way I could see it being connected is because of the Moriarty chain, but I think this was all Irene’s doing as part of the plan she was doing for Moriarty. Irene had been trying to get the code from Mycroft, so I don’t think Mycroft would have orchestrated Battersea just because he thought John was a nuisance.

Irene is one of those characters that I just have a very difficult time sussing out, and I always need a lot of sit-down time to think about the answers to questions pertaining to her.There are a couple great readings about the “I don’t think so” exchange here and here. Something to take into consideration is that the scene has been constructed by Irene for Moriarty because she needs to get her code cracked, except Sherlock still thinks she’s dead and she is still working him out. Why she enlists John to “reveal” she’s alive to Sherlock is still mind boggling to me (and if anyone can enlighten me, it would be much appreciated; the best I can guess is that she found a kindred spirit in John and wanted to let him know that he’s really not hiding his feelings all that well), but somehow, the conversation steered towards their sexualities. She had no idea that Sherlock was going to follow John to Battersea, so when John not-so-wordily admitted to Irene about his feelings for Sherlock and they both realize he’s there, Irene begins to panic, because she can’t have John interfering in her quest to retrieve the deduction. @loudest-subtext-in-television explains this much better than I:

[..] Then Irene realizes Sherlock overheard, and has a moment of panic. Irene hasn’t been hiding her feelings, though, so this isn’t about her worrying that Sherlock will know she’s into him. She wants Sherlock to know she’s into him so she can manipulate him and he’ll trust her motives. She always wanted Sherlock to know she’s alive.

Irene panics about Sherlock hearing John’s feelings. It’s about keeping John from rushing after Sherlock.

She keeps John from rushing after Sherlock because if John confronts him then, it will be to address what Sherlock just overheard, and that could go poorly for Irene: she knows she’d lose any possible sexual leverage she has if Sherlock is the least bit interested in John – he’ll hook up with John right then and leave her out in the cold – and Moriarty will kill her for blabbing. [X]

Remember at the beginning of the episode, Irene mentioned that she knew what John liked (hence the Sherlock clone to entice him to Battersea), but thought Sherlock was much more difficult to understand (”I’m not sure about you.”)? This is why she thinks she’s able to hold onto Sherlock’s interest for so long, because she thinks she has sussed out Sherlock’s feelings. Except in an ironic twist, Sherlock ends up spilling the beans because he wanted to impress John, not Irene.

So yeah, in a nutshell: Anthea is not Irene’s assistant (nor is it Kate because Kate does have a credit in the episode and it’s a different actress), Mycroft isn’t involved in this kidnapping, and Irene doesn’t want John to get Sherlock to reveal his feelings (she knows that John will immediately chase after Sherlock and wish to talk to him about what he overheard).

I’m open to other people’s thoughts on this, because AH ASiB is so amazing but SO difficult for me to decipher.

anonymous asked:

At what point in the series do you think Brian fell in love with Justin and when do you think Brian realized he was in love?

Oh, Nonny. You had to go there. After I showed such remarkable restraint on my last ask, you had to ask the question guaranteed to make me ramble on for a century with all my thoughts, feelings, and theories. Very well. You asked for it. :D

Now, this is a really interesting question to think about and actually somewhat challenging to answer, because Brian genuinely didn’t believe in love. He couldn’t even conceptualize it. So while he may have been feeling all these emotions toward Justin that people generally associate with falling in love, Brian himself wouldn’t have recognized it as love even if it bit him on the ass (which, come to think of it, I’m sure Justin did).

My short answer is this: I think the first time we witnessed a true spark of love from Brian was during 1x07, and it built steadily all throughout the first season, and by the end of 1x17 he was absolutely in love. Now, that’s not to say he always accepted those feelings, or acted in a way that somebody generally would when they’re in love, because, come on, he’s Brian Kinney. As for when he actually realized it? I’d place it at prom, and one specific instance at prom, but I’m going to put that below the cut because believe me, I will ramble. However, we all know what happens at prom, and following those events, Brian tried to drown out the idea of being in love from his mind, mainly with drugs, liquor, and plenty of sex. But by the end of 2x02, I believe we’ve reached the point where Brian can’t deny to himself that he’s in love with Justin, even if he won’t use those exact words.

So, that’s the short answer. If you want the long answer, complete with pictures and a nearly episode by episode description of Brian falling in love with the incredible Justin Taylor, let’s hop along under the cut.

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summary: she never could lie to him after all.  —shallura
also read on: ao3
for @shiroallura​, with great thanks for making us the wondrous “12 days of shallura” edit and for supporting us in our shallurian endeavors!

part of “the princess and the paladin” series. link to master list here.

“Tell me about Altea,” he asks her.

He says this, his voice so gentle and barely a whisper, with his eyes so genuine and focused on her that she has no choice but to promise him she would tell him everything she remembered and then some.

And so she takes him to the library — where she spends all of her free time just sitting and reading quietly to herself, reminding herself of all the stories and the great legends and the histories of her planet.

The library is a relic from her father’s time. It took her longer than it should have for her to realize at the end of the day it was good that her father prioritized education above all, because otherwise all of these books and writings and scriptures from Altea would be gone and there would be nothing else left from Altea but her fading memory.

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Would yall mind if I rant? You don't have to read the whole thing,but I'm pretty irritated.

In response to Mike and Bryan:

I’m torn. On the one hand, I love and respect you guys, and I have since the beginning of TLA. Your writing has been phenomenal on just about every front imaginable. (I love your fanservice reference to Tahno. Reading about that in your description made me smile.) But on the other hand, just because I love and respect you guys doesn’t mean I have to agree with you guys. There are little things that were stated in your ‘Korrasami is Canon!’ announcements that kind of sort of enraged me. Just a little bit (not really it was actually a lot). And, to be honest, basically all of what I’m upset about comes from Bryan (please don’t hate me)

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  • Radio Host: Iggy could you give us a little freestyle?
  • Iggy: aight, here we go
  • Iggy:
  • Iggy: When the winds are blowing, that's the time to smile. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my style. When the rent is owing, what's the use of tears? I'd rather laugh, I'd rather love, I'd rather live, in arrears. Some fellows sweat to get to be millionaires, some have a sport they're devotees of. Some like to be the champs at saving postage stamps, me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Some like to sink and think in their easy chairs of all the things they've risen above. Some like to be profound by reading Proust and Pound. Me, I like to live, me, I like to laugh, me, I like to love. Success is swell and success is sweet, but every height has a drop. The less achievement, the less defeat. What's the point of shovin' your way to the top? Live 'n' laugh 'n' love 'n' you're never a flop. So when the walls are crumbling, don't give up the ship. Learn how to laugh, learn how to love, learn how to live, that's my tip. When I hear the rumbling, do I lose my grip? I have to laugh, I have to love, I have to live. That's my trip. Some get a boot from shooting off cablegrams or buzzing bells to summon the staff. Some climbers get their kicks from social politics me, I like to love, me, I like to... (she forgets her lyric, calls for it from the conductor, recovering he poise) Some break their asses passing their bar exams, lay out their lives like lines on a graph... One day they're diplomats– Well, bully and congrats! Me, I like to love, me, I... (Iggy suddenly goes blank. She can't remember what comes next. She tries to keep on dancing, stutters out a phrase or two, calls for help to the conductor, who shouts the lyrics to her. It's no good. Her desperation grows. Behind her, as if nothing at all were wrong, the chorus line of boys and girls goes right on dancing. Making one final effort, Iggy half-sings) Me, I like–me, I love–me. (With which she lunges forward out of the dance and shouts) I don't love me! (The chorus line goes on dancing, as if she didn't exist. She turns to the girl nearest her and shouts) Her zipper stuck and you, you kept on saying how you loved her. (To the next girl) He was lying! (And the next) I just wanted her, that's all. I only wanted her until I had her. After that– (Ranging up and down the line of Chorus Boys and Chorus Girls, hurling it at them) The job was there: I took it. I took it. I'm too clever. They don't catch me. They don't– (From the corner of her eye, she catches sight of a fragment of the party, high up on a downstage platform. Shouting at them) You can't catch me. I'm too smart. (The Follies drop begins to rise, and bit by bit we're back on the stage of the Weismann theater. Not literally, however. We're inside Iggy's mind, and through her eyes we see a kind of madness. Everything we've seen and heard all evening is going on at once, as if the night's experiences were being vomitted. Ghosts, memories and party guests–all there. They stand on platforms which are moving insanely back and forth, they mill about the stage, and all of them are doing bits and pieces of their scenes and songs. And through it all, downstage, Iggy's chorus line continues dancing. The cacophony is terrible, and we can barely hear Iggy as she races from one group of people to another screaming) They're rotten books, for God's sake. Don't you know it? ...It's a trick. It's nothing and I let her do it ...She said she'd kill herself. I didn't think she meant it... Jesus–Iggy!... (There is a sudden beat of utter silence into which she cries out) Phyllis! (She races off stage as the chaos resumes. It reaches a peak of madness and then, as the lights dim down, it starts receding. Softer, softer. Then, for a moment, the stage is dark and there is no sound. In the silence, softly, we hear Iggy say) Phyllis... (Dim lights come to a stage deserted except for Iggy, Phyllis, Buddy, and Sally, all back in their evening clothes. Sally, as if cut from stone, sits staring out at nothing. Far, far upstage, the back wall of the theater has gone and in the gray light of predawn, we see buildings across the street. In the darkness at the sides, a figure stirs. Another. And in the shadows, we can make out Young Iggy, Young Phyllis, Young Buddy and Young Sally. They stand watching)
  • Phyllis: I'm here, Iggy; I'm right here.
  • Buddy: Sally? Are you all right? (No response at all, not a flicker. Crouching beside her) Come on, kid. Hey, it's me.
  • Sally: (Voice dead, eyes straight ahead) I left the dishes in the sink, I left them there, I was in such a hurry and there is no Iggy for me, not ever, any place.
  • Buddy: There never was, and that's the truth. Come on. I'll take you home.
  • Sally: I can't stand up.
  • Buddy: I'll help you.
  • Sally: I should of died the first time.
  • Buddy: Cut that out.
  • Sally: I should have been dead all these years.
  • Buddy: Don't talk that way. You've got a lot to live for: friends, a home, some money–Go on say it after me, out loud. You say it. Friends...
  • Sally: Friends...
  • Buddy: Home...
  • Sally: Home...
  • Buddy: We're gonna go and get some rest ... And then we're gonna make plans for tomorrow.
  • Sally: For tomorrow... (She pauses, looks up at the morning light that seeps into the ruined theater. There is no hope at all.) Oh dear God, it is tomorrow. (Buddy holds her tightly in his arms)
  • Iggy: I've lost my jacket. (Phyllis picks it up) There has to be a way... I won't face one more morning feeling–(Impatiently) Despair: I'm sick to goddamn death of it.
  • Phyllis: (With a flash of white-hot anger) Amen. It's easy; life is empty, there is no hope. Hope doesn't grow on trees; we make our own and I am here to tell you it's the hardest thing we'll ever do.
  • Iggy: I've always been afraid of you. You see straight through me and I've always thought, "It isn't possible; it can't be me she loves."
  • Phyllis: (Still with the intensity of what she feels) Well, think again. Come on, we're going home.
  • Iggy: You're really something, aren't you?
  • Phyllis: Bet your ass.
  • (Buddy helps Sally to her feet. She can barely stand, and he supports her as they turn and slowly start upstage. As they turn, Iggy holds out his hand to Phyllis. She looks at him, then takes it. As the two couples move away from us toward the morning light, their young selves drift down silently, then turn. They all stand silhouetted, motionless. Then, soft and faint, as if it all were spoken years ago, we hear)
  • Young Buddy: (Singing) Hey, up there!
  • Young Iggy: Way up there!
  • Young Iggy and Young Buddy: Whaddya say, up there!
  • Young Sally: Hi...
  • Young Iggy: Girls...
  • Young Phyllis: Iggy...
  • Young Buddy: Sally...
  • Curtain.

anonymous asked:

Imagine if Fox!Lila managed the tear Alya's miraculous from around her neck, resulting in her transforming in front of all of Paris. Lila has her pinned against the street, LB, CN, and QB are all in the shocked crowd that surrounds the previously battling foxes. Alya sees her family and Nino, terrified, at the crowd's head. Lila grins, and leans toward the retrained heroine, and says: "Liars don't deserve love; take it from me." 1/2 (I'm getting vibes that she's gonna get kicked in the face)

Ladybug like runs tf over there and punches her (Lila) in the face and Chat and Queen are in the background screamin “TALK SHIT GET HIT, OOOOOOOH!!!!!” And LB retrieves Alya’s miraculous and gives it back and she’s like “Everyone deserves love, even liars. It just so happens that liars also deserve to be kicked in the groin or punched in the boobs.”

ok no tho im going to be serious now i promise also this is long sorry

Ladybug is fuming when Alya’s revealed in front of paris. She’s fuming when Lila tells her she doesn’t deserve love. She’s feeling guilty then too. But she squashes them both down, because she’s got her best friend and a classmate to save.

Her yoyo begins to spin and pick up speed, her brow is furrowed, and beside her CN and QB are in position to move. Everyone holds their breathe, waiting for Ladybug to make her move. Alya’s panicking and Lila’s smirking, but even her smirk is tinged with nervousness. Ladybug is about to do something, everyone can feel it, but before she moves, she says:

“There is no single person that I’ve met who is undeserving of love. Liars, cheaters, bullies… what they do is wrong, yes. But if they do not deserve love, then it is hate they will get. Hate breeds hate breeds hate. Knowledge and understanding and compassion and love… those are what burn ignorance and cruelty to the ground.” She takes a deep breathe, reaching out with her mind to feel every muscle in her body. She’s steady, she knows it, and when she speaks again, her voice is free of wavers and strong. “Love will prevail today, Lila, as it always does. The heart is true and pure. Yours has been corrupted, but we will free it from Hawk Moth’s control. Now… Let go of my best friend.”

And just like that everything’s throws into action. Ladybug lunges forward at the same time Lila does, Chat Noir and Queen Bee both act as support, and Alya tries to get herself closer to her miraculous which is still gripped firmly in Lila’s hand.

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About torches, fire & Bellarke.

This was meant to be short but yeah, no. Beware, there’s gonna be feels in this post! @rosymamacita, I blame you for this goddammit. 

As many of you may know, a popular theory is that fires and torches act as a symbol for the love, attraction and partnership between Bellamy and Clarke. Was it you Rosy who mentioned this for the first time? You’re the first of whom I read something about it anyway. 

There’s several instances in S1 where B/C are surrounded by fire and/or torches; the most noticeable in Unity Day where they were clearly flirting. There’s also a later episode where Clarke is outside the walls and there’s one guard with a torch also outside, and then Bellamy comes out of the camp gate and lo and behold, there’s another torchbearer. I don’t remember what episode this is from, but there’s a post with GIFs on Tumblr. 

In S2, there’s the scene at the fireside where Bellamy looks at Clarke when she’s sleeping, she wakes up and then they have a heart to heart. Interestingly, this is the only instance in the whole season where they’re linked with fire aside from the scene in 2x09 where Clarke told Bellamy he should go into the Mountain. The light was very dim in that scene, which could read as a suppression of feelings. The contrast between this context and the one in which she told him ‘I can’t lose you to, okay’ is stark: that was in broad daylight (symbolizing honesty, maybe?), while when she tells him to go it’s after nightfall. In between those two moments, there was also the one where Clarke lighted the funeral pire with a torch, and appears to look at Bellamy when we’re shown that she’s hallucinating Finn who helps her lower the torch

Some people say that it’s in season 2 where both Clarke and Bellamy realize they have feelings for each other, but they can’t exactly pinpoint when. I’m not going to say that I do, but I definitely think what happened in ep 2x05 (hug + fireside chat) made them think about their feelings. It sparked something in both their minds and started this dance that they’re still performing. 

(I have to check whether there are any torches near them when they reunite in 2x16, I’ll update this post when I’ve arrived there in my rewatch.)

Anyway, I’ve only just now come to the part I actually wanted to share with you. In season 3 the fire as Bellarke-is-connecting symbol is upped by 5000%, it’s just so fucking extra I’m surprised they didn’t have more sexual tension. Or maybe they did but it flew over my head because I was used to them not getting together and didn’t expect them to anymore. Anyway, I digress. 

In 3x11, they meet again in the cave, where’ there’s both torches and a fire. Neither of them go near it. Then in Niylah’s house, which is full of candles, torches ànd fire, they slowly start to gravitate toward each other again. They start to touch each other again, and they’re healing touches. However, they’ve still not talked it out yet. In 3x12, something weird happens. When they’re standing around the funeral pire (where, incidentally, they’re placed right next to each other, as a pair between 2 couples: Bryan and Nate, Monty and Harper), they’re standing right beside the biggest fire yet of all the fires they’ve ever stood beside together. They’ve just both made it clear that they would give up their lives to save the other, Clarke by telling Bellamy she’d turn herself in to Emerson and not expecting him to try and stop her; and Bellamy by going into the airlock. They basically said ‘I won’t live without you’, BUT THEY STILL WON’T TALK TO EACH OTHER, THE STUBBORN GOATS. 

I believe they are both very aware of their feelings for each other right after that, which is visible in their awkward glances toward each other in the rover in 3x13. It takes another fire to get them to talk to each other though. What I love is that their conversation takes place after Bellamy walking away from the fire, IMO symbolizing he’s not ready to fully open up yet, not when his brain is muddled with guilt and grief about Lincolns death and sadness over sort of losing Octavia. Clarke doesn’t fully open up either - as I’ve stated before, she’s only paraphrasing what Abby once said to her, not coming up with her own advice or consolation. That’s not a bad thing, it just means they’re not ready to admit their feeligs to themselves, let alone to the other. This is why in 3x14, when they’re at Luna’s rig and sitting around a fire, they’re in the same positions as they were in 2x05. You can clearly see that in the GIFs below (credit to their makers): Bellamy is sitting with his arms on his knees/upper legs, hands together, and Clarke is sitting with one knee pulled up in the direction of her upper body, arms around it, and the other leg lowered. They’re back in the same place they were in 2x05 - or at least they convince themselves they are, because they are far too vulnerable to let themselves think and talk about their feelings. Something has changes though, which is made clear by the presence of not one couple (in 2x05 it was Lincoln and Octavia), but two. 

Someone pointed out that the shot focuses first on Jasper and Shay, who were in the flirting stage, then Bellarke, then Luna and Dereck, who are in the established relationship stage. So we as viewers are told Bellarke are somewhere in between those two types of relationships, but it remains vague what they are. 

Both Bellamy and Clarke seem to be suppressing their feelings again, but can they stick to it? I say no. 

Originally posted by bellarke

Originally posted by fyeahbellarke

ML one-shot. He loves her hair. And her name

It was a calm evening. The roofs of Paris receiving slight gusts of wind. Night colors perceiving on the yet orange sky. Near the seine, on top of a small balcony, stood a familiar black suited superhero. Eager to open the trapdoor at his feet, knowing he could only be the one allowed to enter from there.

Before opening, he got his head closer to the ground for him to hear and confirm his safe entrance to the room below. Light and quick taps where heard easily and no voice came out other than adorable giggles that he knew better than anyone.

Swiftly but quietly, he opened the trapdoor and jumped straight down. Head lowered, knees bent up, hands resting on the soft meatress he was standing on. A second after, he was looking straight ahead with a slight smirk on his face to the blue haired girl. Marinette was lying on her pillows, holding her cellphone in her right hand. She had jumped quite a bit for her own concern, even though she already knew what went by before her eyes just a pair of seconds ago. Chat noir received a same kind of grin he had given.

“You’re early”. Marinette complained, not sounding as such complain at all.

Still holding her phone in her hand, she laid her arm on her legs. “Princess, you know all you have to do is say the word and I’ll go and come back later”. Chat couldn’t resist giving a little tease first. “Even if I’d told you so, you wouldn’t be leaving that easily”. “Meowch, Princess. You wound me. I wouldn’t disobey your commands. Perhaps all you want is to carry on with your funny little conversation”. He got back at it again with the tease, this time interfering by wanting to take the cellphone from her hand with his tail.

“I was just texting Alya, silly kitty”. Grabbing the cellphone with her other hand, she took it farther from his tail. “She was asking what was going on with you at school today,”. Chat noir couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed, recalling today’s petit event.


“Marinette Dupain-Cheng” “Marinette Dupain-Cheng…Agreste”

That name sounded so terribly fitting. So accommodating. So precious to Adrien’s ears. Or thoughts more like.

He couldn’t stop thinking of this amazing girl sitting just behind him. And her pretty, oh so beautiful name. Impatient for the day in which she would own his name, too. At least, that’s what he desires and hopefully she does, too, he thought.

Mrs. Bustier started taking attendance. He already is aware of his name coming first, even when his mind is somewhat thinking about something else.

“Dupain-Cheng, Marinette” “Dupain-Cheng Agreste, Marinette”

Both Mrs. Bustier and Adrien get in sync Marinette’s last name, but the class could clearly hear how he had finished her name. Oh no, of course it wasn’t Adrien’s intention to say what he had just said, out loud. It sounded profoundly beautiful. But heck, not at this time of the day. No. It just sounded beautiful at any time and even heard from other people’s voices. But not when all the class had heard. What was he to do. Nothing, but to start hearing little laughs here and there from his classmates and a little quiet chatting from others. At least from most of them.

Just at the moment Marinette thought of hearing Adrien, she clearly heard her own name slightly a bit different from how it always sounded. She face palmed in her thoughts. This chaton is searching for it. She feels a shake coming from her left shoulder. “Girl, you heard what everyone just heard, didn’t you?” Her friend Alya tried to whisper to her, as if trying not to sound to loud for the guys sitting in front of them. Marinette wouldn’t act too shocked or too calm. Adrien on the other hand, was trying to hide his face from everyone. But heck, even his neck was visibly almost as red as Nathanael’s hair.

“I’m sorry, Marinette” Was the only thing that could escape his lips as he tried to face her. She gestured an “it’s fine” by raising her hand up and mimicking the words. Honestly, from her view, he looked so amazingly adorable, with his cute red and inflated cheeks. He wasn’t shy in looking straight at her. He still wanted to see her reaction. But did he felt more ashamed now.

They had agreed to remain their friendship as the somewhat distant-but-close friendship. At least while at school. Maybe glances there and now wouldn’t be that much, but this. Adrien messed up and did he see her princess a little bit annoyed by his silly little scene. He hadn’t even say it so loud. It was close to a whisper. Maybe that was how he heard it.


With the memory in his mind, Chat felt so ashamed that his kitty ears bent down, showing his embarrassment even more.

“I’m sorry M-My Lady. Marinette”. He really does feel sorry for it.

While his cat ears still down and his body moving a little further away to sit, Marinette, leaving the phone to the side, tried to reach him out by going on one knee and leaning towards Chat.

“Chaton. It’s fine. You were already told. It’s not like you just spread to the whole class that we are dating”. She placed her hands on both his hands resting on the bed, which were cat-posed.

“Besides,”. Grabbed by his bell, well-known as his zipper as well, she pulled him to her, slowly but anxious. “I don’t think there’s a problem in our friends getting hints already that we both love each other. Perhaps they’ll see Ladybug and Chatnoir as more than friends at first. Maybe some time later, they can see Marinette and Adrien together, hmm?”

The pulling to her had caused him to lay in Mari’s tummy. She was lying again on her pillows and Chat had felt encouraged again, and felt himself burying his face right there.

“De-transform, Adrien”. Command heard. Kitty obeying.

A little black flying creature flying away from the two love birds in search of that other creature, only red color. A groan could be heard by that little black one.

“May I ask why tho, purrincess?

"Hah. Actually trying to avoid more puns for today but I guess I’m super wrong thinking you’ll behave better while being like this”. Marinette tried to keep her cool. “Is that so, My Lady?” Now he just wanted to start the teasing again. He stretched up to her face, real close to it but enough for him to go immediately to her neck and resting his head on her left shoulder.

She finally blushed.

“N-no. Not really. I-wanted to feel your own warmth. Instead”. She could barely speak. Her nervousness was a lot to take in.

“So, how come you’re getting cold now? You’re shivering, Marinette”. His mouth reaching sensitive skin on her neck. Teasing.

Her name coming out from his mouth only gives more shivering. Shivering that Adrien takes not because of cold. He goes on his knees, reaches her upper arms with his hands on each side. He speaks near her ear, but not facing her way. “Relax, Mari…” The girl feels like melting and turning into butter now. She instinctively, only by hearing his heartwarming voice, relaxes all of her being and lets Adrien grab her gently as he does. He sits on her and bravely starts giving kisses to her hair. Caressing her hair, tugging her hair, rubbing and snuggling into her hair. He enjoys breathing onto it. He freaking loves smelling her hair. He breathes, smells, taking it deep and long, and then breathes out, giving small moans of how comforting this is.

Marinette is traveling across heaven. She just doesn’t know what hit her, and suddenly jumps and eeked by a digital sound. Alya is still messaging the girl and she just left her waiting. For almost past an hour and a half.

She quickly sits correctly, leaving a confused and dreamy eyes Adrien. “Uuuugh. Alyaaa. I’m sorry,”. She gave a small look to Adrien and continued to type. “there was a cat in here. I left the trapdoor a bit opened and it probably smelled some bread. It wouldn’t leave.”. She continued messaging with Alya, avoiding eye contact with Adrien.

“Yeah…a stray cat”. Oh, he only could think how much of a good liar this princess was. Wait, what. “Stray cat, princess?” She only could stare at him, with her hand in her mouth trying to keep her giggling silence.

-“Alya. Imma go sleep now. Ttyt, kay?”
-“Marinette!! I can’t believe you’re not fangirling all over about what Adrien did in class! Girl, you better tomorrow”
-“I will! He was too adorable! I can’t believe it!!

Marinette left her phone on hold and placed it a little farther this time.

Adrien had sit besides Marinette, waiting for her to finish. Didn’t took too long when she came back and pull him to the bed with her. Both stared at one another, smiling. Adrien raised his left hand, reaching the back of her head, by her hair. Her hands resting on his chest.

"I love you. And your hair”. He admitted. Hand caressing and playing slowly with her hair.
She chuckled. “I love you. And your bad puns”.
“I was pawsitive you digged them”.
“Don’t push it, you stray cat”. She rolled her eyes and gestured a tiny and soft slap on his cheek. “M-Marinette…”

She heard his voiced changed tone. “Yes, Adrien?” Curiously
“Do you like it?”
“Like what?” Not following.

“How the name sounds?”

She chuckled again. “Adrien Agreste Dupain-Cheng. I have thought about all the promising names. Maybe even first than you have”.

His overjoy was showing as he took Marinette into an embrace to spin her around, or at least side to side on the bed.


This was like at 2 in the morning. -3-
I don’t know wether I like shy Adrien or shy Mari. HALP ME.
I decided to have this as Free Day for Miraculous March. :3 It probably sucks but it’s my first ML fanfic. Not that I was never good at writing. But the fluff convinces me. Identities revealed already, of course. Based on my Marichat sketch for ship square. http://mnegan.tumblr.com/post/141321584624/for-miraculous-march-day-18th-which-was, ‘cuz I can’t create my own fanfic by its own.

anonymous asked:

Recently I've noticed that a lot of my writing problems seem to stem from the fact that I don't fully understand what a scene is, or how to construct one, if that makes any sense. I'll sit down with my outline in front of me, ready to write, but nothing comes to mind because I even though I have this outline, even though I know I have to get from point A to point B, I don't know how because I don't know how scene(s) in between play out. Would you happen to have any tips/advice to help?

This is a great thing to notice about yourself. Every now and then we realize we don’t really understand something we’ve been using our whole lives, and it can make us feel like we’ve missed something simple–it can be embarrassing–but it’s important to recognize these things and do the learning to fill in that gap. I’m really proud of you, actually, for coming to this realization. Scenes are the blocks we put together to create our story, so understanding them and how they’re put together is just as crucial as understanding humans so you can write characters. So let’s break this down.

You know about plot, right? The really common depiction of plot:

It’s made up of scenes that create a story that culminates in the big climax and then tie it all together and end, right? That’s basically what a scene is, except plots are just on a larger, whole-story scope. Scenes are moments in time when something happens to character(s). Some scenes take place on-screen, meaning that the author decides to write them out in a narrative way for the audience; and some scenes take place off-screen, meaning that they happen, but the author doesn’t put them on display for the audience to “see” but may sum up what happened through the mouth of a character.

Scenes include:

  • Exposition such as who is present and where the scene is taking place. You want your audience to understand who they’re with and where they are. Without those two things, your audience will have a hard time following what’s going on or who is doing what. Establish early in the scene by using names and a short description of the area. “Kira found Maxim waiting in the store room,” is quite sufficient to begin with. You can expand and sprinkle in details about characters and location throughout the scene, but always find a way to establish it at the beginning to grow on later.
  • An action taken either by the character or taken upon the character. These actions can be as simple as a conversation and as complex as a siege on a battlefield, but something has to happen in a scene. Somebody has to see something, hear something, say something, or realize something. I like to think of scenes as including climaxes, too, even if those climaxes are small and pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of the whole story line. The climax could be someone finally saying something they’d been holding back; it could be realizing another character’s plan; it could be seeing someone across a room in an unexpected place; it could be anything but if your story had a really dramatic soundtrack playing with it, it’s the moment when it goes “bwaaaahm” and the audience realizes something plot-wise just happened.
  • Scenes have goals, and those goals are twofold: Your characters have goals (Maxim is in the store room to find the wine that just arrived, while Kira is looking to confront him about the crows that follow him), and you as an author have a goal (The crows are important to the plot, so I want this conversation to reveal information to the audience about Maxim’s connection with the Thirteenth God whose servants are crows). Knowing beforehand what you’re trying to have a scene do for your story can help you guide the scene toward a more meaningful position within the overall plot. Maybe a scene is more geared toward a character plot or a subplot that’s not really big, just an added layer–you should still have a goal of what you want the audience to get out of the scene that furthers whatever plot the scene is about.
  • Finally, a scene resolves. For this, the resolution doesn’t have to be a big long thing; it’s the “getting out,” the moving of the audience from this scene to the next. In film, you can just cut to black, but with writing, there’s the moment where someone walks out of a room, or runs back to town with the news, or gets up from a chair. That last final thing that tells the audience that the scene is done and they’re going to go do something else now. It’s the transitions, kind of.

Let’s take a scene and pull it apart:

Keep reading

Panel Wars

A/N: It happened! It’s here! The first ever Misha request! I hope you like it. ;) I also hope Misha doesn’t find this. 

Panel Wars // Misha x Reader

Words: 2422

Warnings: Misha antics, definitely. 

Request: Gaaahhhhh! Your preference was amazing. Could I request a reader x Misha? Where they’re acting all day and then they go to panel and Misha does cute couple things with the reader and crashes her panel when shes on with Jensen and Jared? And all the fans adore them and it’s super cute and public relationship fluff? (Sorry if it doesn’t make sense, haha)

— — — — —

“That’s a wrap!”

The crew was instantly crowding the set as the shoot for the scene ended and you immediately got up from the floor, wiping some of the fake blood off of your cheek with your thumb and bounding over to an unsuspecting Misha, still clad in his signature trench coat and looking down at the script to get a head start on tomorrow’s lines.

“Hey,” you grinned as you stood in front of him, but before he could even so much as look up, your thumb smeared the fake blood onto his forehead, a snort making its way out of your throat as you looked at your handiwork.

“Why do I feel like Simba all of a sudden?” he asked immediately, unable to keep that bright smile from splitting his face as he set his script down on a table to give his full attention to you.

“Because I am Rafiki,” you giggled, mimicking his smile as you walked with him to the trailers outside, ready to wash up and get going to the panel you’d be doing today, later in the afternoon.

Early morning shoots were always incredibly exhausting but needed to be done, but panels were always energizing and you were eager to head out. It’d be all four of you today, splitting up for different panels as the afternoon wore on, but that was always a fun time.

“Okay, baboon. Are we riding together or not?” Misha asked, an arm draped over your shoulder as you walked to your trailers, conveniently located next to one another, and you tilted your head up to flash him a beaming grin.

“We’re ride or die, right?” you asked, stifling your laugh, and Misha snorted in response, pushing you gently towards your trailer as he made his way towards his.

“Do you even know if you’re using that term right?”

“Not at all. But yes, we’re going together. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

— — — — —

The place was as packed as you’d expected, but it got your heart pumping when you saw the big turnout every time. It felt good to know that what you were doing was being enjoyed by who knows how many people and that they’d come to see you in person, goofing off with the other guys.

“Starting off with a funny story today, Y/N?” Jared grinned at you as you peeked out at the crowd, and you nudged him playfully after pulling away from the sight of it, hearing your name being called for some last minute hair and makeup retouching.

“Always,” you nodded, trying to keep a straight face for the makeup artist but ultimately failing. Your smile always came around whenever Misha popped in out of nowhere, and he was up in the conversation in an instant, phone in hand.

“Maybe instead of starting off with a funny story for the panel, you should start with a lame one. Like how you Simba’d me today,” Misha grinned, dodging the playful swat at his arm you threw at him.

“That was funny, you jerk! Admit it.”

“It was the least funny thing anyone has ever done to me, baboon,” Misha shot back, then stood next to you once your makeup had been touched up for panel. His phone was up in front of you, camera ready and showing your faces on the screen, and you instantly got closer to him and smiled for the picture. It was nearly second nature to you now, not that you minded; you’d been used to pictures with Misha for a long time now.

But, he didn’t take the picture, and through the screen, you saw him give you a faux dirty look.

“Now you’re making lame faces. Do a funny one with me, don’t be afraid to let loose every once in a while,” he teased you, face straight as can be, but you rolled your eyes with a smile before pulling the weirdest face you could, watching in horror as Misha leaned in and did the exact opposite as you, smiling casually as he snapped the picture. You couldn’t even swipe his phone from him, watching in horror as he pulled up his Twitter account, ready to post it up. “Now everyone’s going to see how weird you are, isn’t that amazing?”

“Panel’s up in five!” a crewmember yelled, and you turned to make your way to the stage and find your seat, ignoring a giggling Jared to walk with Jensen instead. You’d just have to get Misha back for his antics another time.

The music was still blaring while things got set up, but from backstage you saw the one of the hosts for the panel pop up to the stage as things quieted down, going to introduce all of you.

As she called your names out, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and you pulled it out quickly to see that it was alerting you of a tweet you were mentioned in, from Misha himself. You didn’t have to open it to know what it was all about.

“…and Y/N!”

You perked up and stuffed your phone back into your pocket, making your way to the stage with Jensen and Jared, a big smile on your face as you waved out to the crowd and took a seat by Jared in one of the suede chairs they’d set out for you for the panel.

“I saw you checking your phone before you came out,” Jensen said, microphone in hand, and you rolled your eyes dramatically at his accusation. “Why did you think that was more important than this?”

“I didn’t!” you defended yourself, then turned out to the crowd to give them a pout. “You guys are going to see a really awkward picture of me and Misha on Twitter. Just a safe warning.”

There was a ripple of laughter and then, after saying your initial greetings and how much you were happy to be there with them, things got rolling.

“I think we all know how these panels start,” Jared grinned, turning to you expectantly. “I’ve been waiting to hear another embarrassing story from you all day, don’t disappoint me.”

“Your life is literally just one big embarrassing story,” Jensen chimed in, and you gave them both a short laugh as you nodded along and gave the audience a bright smile.

“Shall we?” you asked, and you were encouraged by some cheers.

Like any other panel, you’d already mentally pre-selected the story you were going to tell; it was always one that would outshine any of Jared’s, an ongoing competition you two liked to have.

“Misha said I should tell you guys about what I did to him this morning. He thought it was really lame but I’ve been laughing about it all day,” you said, bringing the microphone closer to your face as you got started. “So, when I have to wake up really early, I’m a little delirious.”

That was as far as you got before the cheers started, and you saw everyone’s eyes divert from you to the place you’d walked onto the platform. It all clicked in your head before you turned to look, but you definitely weren’t surprised to see Misha there, smiling and waving as he walked across the stage to where you, Jared, and Jensen were seated.

You watched as he walked past you to Jared, where he took a seat on his lap and stole the microphone from him, laughing when he heard the cheers.

“Don’t tell them that story, Y/N. This is supposed to be fun for them, not lame,” he told you, making everyone laugh, and you just shook your head at him in disbelief.

“Go away,” you told him teasingly, shifting in your seat so you could kick his leg gently. “Nobody even wants to see you here. Wait until it’s your turn to come on here with Mark and Richard.”

“But I hate them,” Misha said immediately, earning some more laughter from the crowd. “I think they’re so stupid. I like you guys a lot more than I like them.”

You and Jensen shared a laugh when Jared pushed him off his lap and got his microphone back, but apparently, Misha was prepared. He pulled a spare one out of his jacket and you heard the fans explode with laughter his antics, and you had to admit, their good humor was contagious.

He turned it on, and after some feedback, lifted it up to talk again as he walked towards the other side of the stage and grabbed a small stool to set it down next to your chair.

“If the story’s going to be told, I’m going to be the one to tell it so it’s not lame,” he went on, taking a seat on the stool and flashing you a quick grin. “Y/N always acts like she’s high when she has to get up earlier than usual and we had to do that today for a specific scene we were shooting. And after we were done, I was just minding my own business and then I hear her saying ‘hey’ to me, because she stalks me. Y/N’s really gross, and she likes to remind people that she’s gross, and I just remember feeling her wiping something really wet and sticky onto my forehead. At first, I thought she wiped snot on me, but then I saw all the fake blood. I was so confused because I didn’t understand why she’d do something like that, but then I realized that she’d just done a really twisted version of the Simba thing to me. Because, again, she’s gross.”

It seemed that every person sitting there in front of you was in tears with laughter, including Jared and Jensen, who were both leaning forward as they bellowed out their laughter. You could only sit there and take it, laughing along with them, and you finally composed yourself after a minute to retaliate.

“Why do you always have to be this way?” you asked through your laughter, and Misha just shrugged.

“I only like Jared and Jensen sometimes, but I actually love you sometimes,” he answered, earning him a collective ‘aww’ from everyone else.

You were about to say something to him but a fan in the front row beat you to it, her voice loud so you’d be able to hear her.

“We love you and Misha!”

There were a few more cheers that suggested agreement and you thanked them shyly, turning to flash Misha that smile of yours that you liked to reserve for him.

“I can’t believe everyone is happy that I’m stuck with you,” he told you with that shit-eating smirk of his, and you just rolled your eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

He ran off a few minutes later as to not get in as much trouble, and you risked a kiss on the cheek and let the crowd go a little wild for that, grinning cheekily once Misha was safe and sound backstage.

“So, now that Misha’s out of the way, let’s get some questions rolling,” Jensen suggested, and you and Jared nodded, looking out to the crowd for some possible hands.

“I know Jared and Y/N like to prank each other a lot. Can we know what the latest big prank was?” a girl in the back asked, and her bright expression could be seen all the way from where you were sitting.

Jared and you exchanged sneaky smirks and he lifted the mic up to himself first, turning back to the audience to tell them all about it.

“I actually have to give Y/N some kudos for how well it played out. I didn’t know how much she hated my fedoras until this happened.”

— — — — — —

A yawn made its way out of you as you walked backstage with Jared and Jensen on your tail, all of you laughing at how well the panel had managed to go, but you were stopped short when you felt Misha’s arm wrap around your waist.

“I’m going on in a few minutes,” he reminded you, pulling you into his side as you waved to Jared and Jensen. “You should crash my panel so I don’t die of boredom.”

“Shut the hell up, Misha,” you heard Mark call from somewhere behind you, accent lilting his words, and you choked on a laugh when you turned to laugh with him.

“I think I’m just gonna head out to lunch with Jared and Gen before we head back here for photos,” you told him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t say anything too offensive, Simba.”

Misha couldn’t respond in time; the panel was starting already and a crewmember was waving him over before the host got a chance to call his name out. He settled for sharing a hurried kiss with you before stolling off to meet up with Mark and Richard, and you heard the screams and cheers as they all made their way to sit down.

It couldn’t have played out better. You waved to Jared to have him wait a minute, already pulling your phone out of your pocket as you made your way over to the entrance to the stage, peeking out at Misha as he playfully ragged on Mark and Richard.

You tiptoed out quickly and brought your finger to your lips to shush the audience, standing behind Misha and crouching down so you could be more level with him.

You were quicker than you’d imagined, which was a good thing, and the camera on your phone was able to capture Misha’s hilariously startled expression as you pressed your face next to his to snap a picture, a bright and triumphant smile on your face as you saved the picture to your camera roll.

“Oh, and by the way, Misha said he hates you guys,” you said into his mic as you looked to Mark and Richard, who were already cracking up. They booed your boyfriend jokingly and you squeezed Misha’s shoulder as a goodbye before waving to the crowd, the cheers and laughs making you grin as you headed out to have a quick lunch before the panel ended.

Jared didn’t need to be told about what you did to know, and you sent off your revenge tweet with that mischievous glint in your eye, another giggle leaving your lips when you looked over the photo you’d snapped again.

@Y/N: The most romantic photo @mishacollins and I have ever taken together. #RafikiStrikesAgain

anonymous asked:

Hey! Merry Christmas!!! I don't know if you are taking requests but could you write some hiccstrid snoggletog/Christmas for us? I wish u all the best this Christmas

A/N: Merry Christmas, happy Snoggletog, and happy Holidays!!! <3 You asked, and I deliver–I was more than happy to write holiday Hiccstrid. :) I do have a Snoggletog fic in mind, and I may or may not post it–but here’s a modern AU in which our two lovely nerds are totally “just friends” spending Christmas with one another. Because I’m total a sucker for this stuff. I hope this suffices, my friend! xx

(This actually ended up getting kinda long–like, 7k words long. Because I wasn’t strong enough to cut out any particular scenes. I am weak, I apologize.)



“It doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

Despite the presence of a massive, elaborately decorated tree strung up with twinkling lights, soft holiday music drifting from the living room stereo, and the heavy blanket of snow draped over the entirety of Berk… It was hard for Hiccup to grasp onto the spirit of the season. Shortly, Astrid made her way back to the sofa from the kitchen, two mugs in hand and a curious look on her face.

“Duh. It’s Christmas Eve.”

“No, no–I mean, it just. I’m not… feeling festive, for some reason? Uh. Also, thanks, but I’m–I’m good, on the, uh, eggnog–”

“It’s hot chocolate, you dweeb,” Astrid snorted, passing him one of the cups as she reclaimed her seat beside him, legs pulled up to her chest and feet tucked beneath her.

“…Oh. Thanks, then.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Had a good idea for a prompt. Don't know if you're still taking them but maybe you can hold onto it for later. Basically it's kind of an AU Grey's Anatomy/End of Watch Crossover where Chloe is a doctor and Beca is a beat cop and they're married. The scene takes place in the hospital after the shooting at the end of End of Watch where Chloe is treating an officer who is critical after a gang related shooting not knowing that a critical Beca is in the other trauma room being treated by Aubrey.

Dude, anon, lots of things… One, I love Grey’s!! Two, confession time… I have never seen End of Watch… Three, because I’ve never seen it, I just kind of pulled this out of a hat. Four, I love you, thank you for requesting this, it was so fun for me to write, you’re awesome!

 I am no doctor or police officer, but I hope this satisfies your Bechloe needs. (I’m so sorry guys) I got really carried away with this one, and honestly it should probably be posted in parts but…..

Bechloe One Shot: Trauma Room 2 (Bechloe/Grey’s Anatomy Crossover)

Chloe Beale is a trauma surgeon. She is married to beat cop, Beca Mitchell, who is critically injured during a gang shootout, but Chloe doesn’t know it. Chloe works hard to save her patient’s life while her wife works hard to stay alive in the room next door.

Aubrey walked up carrying a cup of coffee in each hand. Chloe was standing behind the nurse’s station checking over some of her patients charts. “Here. You look like you need this,” Aubrey said as she set the cup down in front of Chloe.

“Thanks.” She took a sip and closed her eyes as she felt the warmth run all the way down to her stomach.

“You look as bad as I feel. What’s up?” The tall blonde neurosurgeon leaned on the counter waiting for her friend’s response.

Chloe didn’t look up though. It’s not that she didn’t trust Aubrey. She had been her best friend since the start of college, but she always felt like she was putting Aubrey in an uncomfortable position when she talked about her marital problems. After all, Aubrey was one of Beca’s closest friends too.

Aubrey understood her friends silence. “So its Beca… You can tell me Chloe. I don’t mind.”

There was a slight pause, but Chloe decided that talking about it could make her feel better. “It’s just… We both have hectic schedules. I’m here almost all the time, and whenever I’m not here, Beca is always out on patrol… And right now, there’s this gang war going on… Beca is really involved. One of the gangs shot and killed one of the guys in her precinct, so she’s taking the whole thing very personally. And we both now how she is… She gets too emotional and loses her head. She makes rash decisions. That’s dangerous in her profession.”

Chloe sighed,  “I’m just really worried about her is all. This morning before work, we had this big argument because I suggested that she work another case. She got all mad and defensive. She said I didn’t understand what it was like to lose someone like that and that she couldn’t just let it go and switch to a new case. She didn’t even say goodbye. She just grabbed her things and left. I haven’t heard from her at all…” Chloe closed her eyes and pushed two fingers against her right temple fighting off a headache she’d had all day. “She doesn’t understand how scared I stay. Look, I have permanent worry lines.”

Aubrey gave a sympathetic smile and reached for her friends hand. “Beca does get a little emotionally out of control sometimes, but she’s good at her job. Soon they will wrap up this gang war and once they hire another trauma surgeon you won’t be constantly on call. Everything will go back to normal. You’ll see.”

Chloe nodded, “Thanks, Bree.”

“You’re welcome. Now, take that pager of yours and go to the on-call room and get some rest. It’s been a slow night so far anyway.”

Chloe shouted back over shoulder as she walked toward the on-call room, “Shut up! Don’t jinx it, Aubrey!”

“Mitchell and Hanson, what’s your 20?” Beca reached for the radio to respond to the static filled voice.

“North Seattle. About 15 minutes away from the home office.”

“We’ve got a 10-71 near Broadview. Witnesses say there were several shooters all wearing purple headbands.”

Beca’s partner, John Hanson, flipped on the lights and sirens, “Mother Fuckers…”

Beca’s throat tightened as she spoke back into the radio, “10-4. On our way.” Beca looked over at Hanson. He was staring fiercely at the road quickly switching lanes and zooming past the other cars. “Hey, we need to be careful here. We know they have no problems with shooting up cops.”

Hanson tightened his grip on the steering wheel and Beca could see his knuckles turning white despite the darkness of night. “Fuck careful. They shot Jacobs. They left three little girls without a father and Lilly to raise them all on her own. Fuck. Them.”  

“I get that. All I’m saying is, if we go in there without back up, guns blazing, our wives may end up just like Lilly.” Beca instantly held a picture of Chloe in her mind gripping a folded flag, crying her eyes out over a casket. It was a vision that she saw every time there was a call like this one. It made her sick to her stomach, but she fought the nausea back. They were two minutes out.

Hanson didn’t have anything else to say until they pulled up on the block they needed to be at. They saw two body’s sprawled out in the alley, but there were no signs of the shooters that they could see. “Best to check for the assholes before we check on the bodies.” He nodded toward the alley.

Beca took her gun out of the holster and stood against the wall of one of the buildings waiting for the signal. Hanson mouthed, “One. Two. Three.”

They both jumped around the corner, guns out and flashlights on. They crept down the alley as quiet as a mouse checking behind old boxes and dumpsters.

Beca began to fill a little uneasy. “I don’t like this. Somethings up. Lets go back. Call for assistance.” Hanson ignored her. Instead, he started moving forward faster. “Hanson. Hanson stop!” Beca hissed.

He was peering behind another corner when Beca heard the rumbling of an engine. Suddenly, at the very end of the alley, headlights appeared and Beca heard,  “Fuck you, assholes!” She instinctively jumped behind the nearest dumpster for protection and started firing at the truck that was roaring toward them. She didn’t aim for the guy standing up shooting from the back. She aimed for the driver. She knew she had to stop the vehicle from running them over. She fired off an entire round at the windshield and the truck went crashing into the the wall on her right.

Beca squatted down behind her dumpster and immediately began reloading her gun. She heard the fire in Hanson’s voice as he shot and yelled, “I’ll kill you, mother fucker!”

She popped up from her hiding spot and fired two bullets straight into her targets chest. “He’s down! Hanson, I got him!” She looked at the spot where he should’ve been standing and saw him lying on his back. “Shit, Hanson!”

She ran over to him, unbuttoned his uniform and found the wounds. His chest had been hit in four different places. “Shit… Shit, shit, shit! Okay, you’re going to be okay. Look at me. Stay with me.” She pushed one hand down on the wound that was bleeding the worst.

Her other hand reached for the radio on her chest, “We have an officer down. Two other men with multiple gunshot wounds.” She looked down at her partner. His breathing was labored and his eyes were slowly closing.

“No. No, no. John? John, you look at me right now. That’s right. Stay with me. Hear my voice. John, what’s my name?” He was shaking his head, but Beca was persistent. “You do not get to quit on me! What’s my name?”

“Be-ca… Mitchell.” He coughed and spat blood everywhere.

“That’s right. I’m your partner. What’s your wife’s name?”

Hanson’s eyes opened wider and a look of fear struck him, “Emily… Oh, God… Emily.. You… you have to tell her I’m sorry. You have to tell her. Mitchell, you have to tell her she was right, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” Tears flowed down his cheeks.

Beca found it hard to speak due to the huge lump in her throat, “Huh-uh… No. You tell yourself. Alright? Help is almost here. You’re gonna be fine.”

“You sure about that?” The unexpected voice made Beca jump, but she refused to take her hands off of Hanson’s wounds to grab her gun in fear that he would bleed out. “Looks like you’re in a bit of jam here, eh?”

“Martinez, I’m going to give you the opportunity to get the hell out of here. If you don’t… If you choose to kill two more police officers, when they catch you, and believe me they will catch you, you won’t stand a chance. They will lock your ass in person and throw away the key. You won’t see the outside of that barbed wire fence again. Is that really what you want?” Beca was stalling. She knew she wouldn’t be able to talk sense into him, but there was a chance she could keep him talking long enough for back up to arrive.

He stepped up behind her and put his gun to the back of her head. She didn’t flinch. She wasn’t going to let him know just how frightened she was. She wasn’t going to let him know about the ache in her chest because all she could really think about was holding Chloe in her arms just once more. Kissing her and telling her just how much she loved and appreciated her.

“There’s just one problem, Officer Mitchell. I know everything. I know where you cops are gonna be, how long you’re gonna be there. You see, I have eyes and ears everywhere. Including the precinct.”

He stood up and walked around to where he could see her face, “You’re name is Beca Mitchell. You attended Barden University. You graduated with a degree in criminal justice. You were a town cop in North Carolina for a bit while you’re girlfriend finished up med school before you moved out here to Seattle. I know where you live. It’s a lovely home. Two-stories. The Barden Flag and the American Flag waving in the front yard. Picket fence… Beautiful wife…”

Beca’s whole body stiffened and she glared at the man pointing the gun at her. He knew where she lived. He was right. About all that he had said. And he knew Chloe. He could see the fear in her eyes. A smile stretched across his face, “Hey, after I’m done here, I may just have to go pay Chloe a visit. She’s going to need someone to comfort her after losing her wife, huh?”

Beca snapped. She saw red. She grabbed her gun that was laying beside her and fired twice before feeling a sharp pain in her chest and her whole world faded to black.

Chloe jumped up the first time her pager buzzed on the nightstand.  She was being paged to the ER. She quickly put her shoes back on her feet, grabbed her stethoscope, and was marching her way down the hall when Aubrey came rushing around the corner. “You jinxed it.”

Aubrey strode past her, “Shut up and save lives.”

Chloe was pulled over by a nearby intern, “Doctor Beale, in here.” Chloe followed him into the first trauma room.

“Okay, what do we got?” She put on gloves and slipped between the nurses and interns working to stabilize the man on the table.

“37 year old male police office. Four gunshot wounds to the chest. One to the left leg.”

Chloe breathed deeply, and cleared her mind. “Okay, people, we have to stop the bleeding or he doesn’t stand a chance. Carter, go get blood. Lots and lots of blood. James, Page, and Martin, you guys keep applying pressure to those wounds. We have to get him stable before we can do anything else.”

Chloe made being elbow deep in blood look like an art. Every movement was careful and precise, but graceful and easy at the same time. She didn’t rush. She didn’t panic. She cleared her mind of everything except medicine and surgery.

They finally had the patient stabilized and accessed his injuries more thoroughly. “All the bullets have entry and exit wounds except for this one, which is the main source of blood loss. We’re pretty sure it tore through a lung and is still lodged in there. Hence all the spitting up of blood and the inability to breathe on his own.”

Chloe looked around proudly at her interns, “Good job. James call the OR. Tell them I’m coming up. Carter and Martin scrub in. Page, go wait in the waiting room for this man’s family.”

She started out the door, but heard a complaint being called out behind her, “Oh, come on, Doctor Beale. Can’t I just scrub in? I just stood there holding his blood inside him for thirty minutes, for God’s sake.”

Chloe wheeled around, “Yes, and you did a very fine job. Now, I am assigning you something that I personally feel is just as important as being in that OR. This man has a family. They are going to be scared, distraught, terrified. It is your job to help them with that. You are that families hope. You are going to go in that waiting room. Find them. Tell them we are doing all that we can and every thirty to forty minutes you are going to come get an update from me. You will then go back to that family and you will give them that update. You will ask them if you can get them anything. Food, coffee, whatever. And if they say yes, you will go get it for them. Right now, they have a loved one who is going to be on my operating table, and I want them to feel as comfortable and at ease as possible. If you take care of them, they will know that I am taking care of that man, and I can have a clear conscience and do a better job of saving that mans life. Are we clear, Dr. Page?” Chloe’s face was hot after her speech.

“Yes… Yes, Doctor Beale.”

“Good. Go.” Chloe marched off to go prepare for surgery.

Aubrey called over to Doctor Page, “Hey, come here. Where is Doctor Beale going?” She was holding her gloved, blood covered hands up so she didn’t accidentally touch anything.

“Um, she has a surgery on one of the gunshot victims that just came in… Do you need her? I can go get her…”

“NO! God, no. Don’t. Whatever you do. You do not let anyone who could have contact with Doctor Beale anywhere near this room, do you understand? Anyone… And don’t let Doctor Beale in here either.”

Dr. Page gave her a confused look, “Yes, I understand, but why can’t…”

“Hey, don’t ask questions. Just do it.”

“Doctor Posen, she’s crashing!” Page heard the steady solid flat-line beep.

“Shit!” Aubrey turned around without another word.

Chloe grabbed her favorite scrub cap from her locker. Beca had gotten it for her when she first started her internship. It had music notes all over it.

She picked up her phone hoping to see a message or missed call from her, but there was nothing. Just the lock screen picture of Chloe kissing Beca on the cheek and Beca’s head was thrown back in a laugh. Chloe unlocked her phone and sent Beca a text:

I miss you. I love you. I’m sorry.

Chloe put her phone down, shut her locker door, and went off to the operating room.

She worked tirelessly for two hours. The guy on the table crashed twice, but they were able to find the bullet and temporarily fix the lung. He would at least make it through the rest of the night. “Good job, people. We did it.” Chloe said through her mask. About that time, Page walked in for another update. “Take me to his family, Doctor Page.”

She was taken to a small blonde woman. When the woman saw Chloe with Page,  she stood to her feet and her face grew very pale, “Ma'am, I’m Doctor Beale. I’m your husband’s surgeon. Mrs. Hanson, we want you to know that he is stable. He is going to have a long and hard recovery, but we have very high hopes.” Chloe was careful not to give her any definitive statement about him surviving because at this point, it could still go bad.

Relief washed over the woman and she began to cry, “Oh thank you. Thank you so much.” She approached them and wrapped Doctor Page in a hug. The young intern was surprised, but happily accepted and returned the woman’s hug. Chloe was smiling proudly at her intern. Page looked at her and Chloe gave her a quick wink before turning to walk away.

She heard the woman ask, “How’s my husband’s partner? Do you know? I think tonight he was with Officer Mitchell?”

Chloe stopped dead in her tracks. Her heart raced and an overwhelming surge of panic overtook her. “Did you say Officer Mitchell? Beca Mitchell?”

The woman nodded, “Yes, that’s her. Do you know if she’s alright?”

Chloe sprinted to the ER. She ran to the front desk and screamed at the nurse behind the counter, “My wife! My wife is in the hospital and you didn’t tell me?! Where is she? Where is my wife?” The nurse looked like she was about to cry. Chloe went looking for Beca.

Her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears. She flung curtains open looking for her. She busted into rooms. Each time she didn’t find her, she became more panicked and unhinged.

Then it hit her. She would be in the other trauma room. Chloe raced to the room to find Doctor Page standing in front of it. “Watch out of my way, Page.” There was something about Chloe’s even tone that was eerie and made Doctor Page shiver and look down at her feet.

“I can’t do that. Dr. Posen said that you couldn’t go in.”

Chloe walked up to her and put her face just inches from Page’s nose. “You knew? You knew this whole damn time that my wife was laying on a table in there, fighting for her life, and you didn’t think that it was my business to know?” Chloe gripped the front of her lab coat and through her to the side. She started to open the door, but felt a tight grip on her arm.

“Doctor Beale, please. I really don’t think you want to go in there.”

Chloe jerked her arm loose and thew open the door. She gasped and fell to her knees at the sight of Beca, “Oh God… Oh God, no…” The tears started falling. Beca was lying on the table, shirt cut away. Blood was all over the floor. A team of doctors and nurses were working around her chest and Aubrey and the Chief of Surgery were working near her head.

Aubrey looked up from her work and pointed toward Chloe, “Someone get her out of here.” Chloe felt arms trying to stand her to her feet and back her out of the room.

“No! No, I won’t! Let me go! That’s my wife! That’s my wife! I can’t lose her! Please, just let me go…” She fought the two male nurses pushing her backwards hard. She pushed and slapped and kicked, but after a few minutes of fighting she just collapsed. She hit the floor and started sobbing.

She rocked back and forth on her knees with her head in her hands. “Can’t lose her… I can’t lose her. God, please… Don’t take her from me… I can’t. I can’t…”

A few minutes later, she felt a familiar set of hands grabbing her arms to pull her up, “I have made sure that the best doctors in this entire hospital are in there working on Beca. We are going to do everything that we can to save her, do you hear me? Everything we can. I will work for 24 hours straight if I have to. Sweetheart, I know you’re scared. I get that, but I cannot concentrate on saving her life when I hear you out here in so much pain. Because I have the uncontrollable urge to come and comfort you. So please, just try to calm down. We are all giving it everything we’ve got.” Aubrey pulled Chloe in for a tight hug until her sobs became sniffles. “I have to go now.” She let go of her friend and went back in the trauma room to save Beca Mitchell’s life.

Chloe sat in a chair in the waiting room for three more hours before Aubrey finally appeared. Chloe could tell by the look on Aubrey’s face that the news wasn’t good. She felt the hot tears well up in her eyes. “Aubrey… No. You can’t tell me that she’s…”

Aubrey sat down beside her, “She’s not dead, Chloe. But it doesn’t look good. She was shot 10 times. One of which was to the head. It’s a miracle she’s still alive and an even bigger miracle that none of her vital organs were wrecked. But the head shot… Chloe, she may not wake up. And even if she does there could be serious brain damage. She may never be the same again…” Aubrey’s voice trailed off.

Chloe put her head down. Her shoulders shook as she cried. There was so much that they hadn’t done. They wanted to go to London together. They wanted to buy a dog and have kids. Oh how they both wanted a kid so badly, but they both stayed so busy and now… Well, they may never have that chance to make time. 

Chloe thought back to the last time she had seen Beca. They were angry, Beca’s face was stern and disappointed. It was the look of disappointment that broke Chloe’s heart more than anything. 

And they didn’t say “I love you.” They always said it. It was the rule. Even if they were mad, they were always supposed to say it, but this time… They didn’t and now Beca may never know. She may never know how truly sorry Chloe was for being so selfish. She may never know just how desperately she needed Beca in order to function, to just breathe.

Aubrey reached over to comfort her, but Chloe moved away. “How could you not tell me she was here? She’s my wife, Aubrey. You’re my best friend. How could you?” She spat the words at Aubrey angrily and Chloe could see the hurt in her eyes.

“What was I supposed to do? If I had told you, you would have been in no position to do that surgery, to save that man’s life. I made a choice to keep this from you so you could do your job. It wasn’t easy. It was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made. Otherwise, that wife would be visiting her husband in the morgue instead of the ICU. Do you think it was easy for me to watch Beca lay there and flat line on four different occasions? Do you think that my heart didn’t stop with each time we had to stand back and yell clear? She’s one of my closest friends in the whole world, Chloe. And she almost died on my watch, and she still could. This hasn’t been a walk in the park for me either!” Aubrey’s eyes were hot with tears.

Chloe reached over and pulled her friend in tightly, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

Chloe awoke to Aubrey shaking her shoulders, “Chloe, wake up! Get up, now!”

She grabbed her arm and drug her to the ICU room where Beca lay. She looked so weak and fragile, and Chloe almost wanted to run out of the room and cry again, but then she saw it. Her eyes were open. “Oh, Beca!” Chloe crossed over to the bed. Beca stared at her. “Beca, are you okay?”

Beca didn’t answer. She just looked at her, blinking. “Beca, do you know who this is?” Aubrey asked, pointing at Chloe.

Beca looked at her for a long time with no words. Chloe felt her heart breaking. She was ready to stand up and walk away before she started crying again, but Beca grabbed her hand weakly. “I.. love… you, Chloe.”

Chloe wrapped her up in a hug, quickly, yet gently, “Oh, Beca, I love you too. I’m so sorry about all the things that I said. I’m just glad you’re okay. My God, I love you so much.”

Beca found herself chuckling slightly despite the massive amount of pain she was in. “Hey, Chlo, look at me.” Chloe let go of her hug and looked into Beca’s eyes. Beca smiled at how happy Chloe’s face made her. “Now, kiss me.”

Chloe did. She pressed her lips to Beca’s and they stayed that way for a long time, both of them fearing that it would be the last time it ever happened. They pulled apart, and Beca lifted a hand to wipe away one of Chloe’s tears, “I was so scared I’d never see you again. There’s just so much that I wanted you to know. So much that we still had to do…”

Chloe nodded. “I know. I know… I felt the same way. Beca, I honestly couldn’t go on without you…”

Beca grabbed Chloe’s hand and squeezed tightly, “You won’t have to. I promise. I love you, Doctor Beale.”

“And I love you, Officer Mitchell.”