Are you still doing the prompt thing? If so, fs + 82, please? :)
Hey there, anon! “I was in the neighborhood,” coming right up!
Academy AU. Based on true events.
Jemma jumps up from the table and comes at him so fast that Fitz freezes, even as she flings her arms around him. He’s afraid that the ice cream parlor door will swing closed and bang right into him, but it’s a near miss.
“Fitz, imagine meeting you here!”
Fitz shrugs. “I was … in the neighborhood?”
Jemma only grins at him. “I was just about to tell Stewart all about the project we’re working on! Come and sit with us!”
Fitz’s eyes dart from Jemma to the man who must be Stewart. The two exchange an awkward wave as Jemma all but pulls him into an empty seat.
“This is my best friend, Fitz,” she says, “and I haven’t seen him in ages. How are you doing these days, Fitz?”
He pauses, about to tell her that he saw her this morning and he’s not sure which project she’s referring to, or how they could be working on one if they haven’t seen each other, but Stewart cuts him off.
“You know, I bet Fitz came here to get some ice cream,” Stewart says. “And as it happens, I’m something of a culinary expert.” Stewart throws him a smug, flashy smile, and Fitz tries his best to not raise an eyebrow at him.
“Oh you are? That’s … interesting.”
“Stewart has been telling me all about his vast knowledge of food,” Jemma deadpans. “The onion soup at The Outback, for example.”
Stewart winks at him. “Impeccable.”
“And,” continues Jemma, “he has a very discerning palette. He tried every single ice cream flavor, then several combinations of flavors, before making his choice.”
Fitz looks over at the barrels of ice cream, knowing that there’s well over thirty-one flavors there. When he turns back to Jemma, he sees that her bowl of ice cream has already melted. It’s not until he sees the desperation in Jemma’s eyes that it all clicks:
Jemma and Stewart are on a date. And it is going badly.
“Here,” says Stewart, getting up, “let me show you.” Before Fitz or Jemma can stop him (Jemma actually makes an attempt at grabbing Stewart’s arm), he’s gone.
“I thought you had dinner plans,” Fitz whispers, watching an oblivious Stewart receive death glares from every employee behind the counter.
Jemma clenches both fists. “So did I!”
“So, what,” asks Fitz, “he said he’d take you out to dinner and didn’t feed you?”
“And then he spent the entire night talking about food,” she confirms.
Fitz facepalms, “Goodness gracious.”
Jemma’s not only on a bad date with a socially-inept narcissist—she’s starving.
“Here you go,” says Stewart, “it’s pistachio and—get this—bubble gum.”
Fitz takes the proffered spoonful of ice cream and doesn’t dare to look at Jemma before putting it in his mouth.
“Amazing isn’t it?” asks Stewart. Fitz swallows.
“It’s definitely something.”
“Come on,” says Stewart, “let me treat you to something. I still have a little bit left on my gift card.”
It’s then that Fitz can’t stop himself from looking over at Jemma, who casually motions towards the tip jar, which stands empty. He shudders.
“Actually,” Fitz says, “actually, I, um I came here to get Jemma. Her lab cultures are …” “He grapples for a word, but three semesters of biology fail him. “Sick.”
Jemma stands up so quickly that she tips over her chair, then sets it right, then straightens and grabs her purse. “I’m sorry, Stewart, but those cultures are worth half my grade. If there’s anything wrong with them, I’m done for!” She reaches her hand out, and Stewart shakes it reluctantly. “Have a lovely evening.”
Fitz has just enough time to retrieve a handful of bills from his wallet and toss them in the tip jar on their way out.
“Ugh, Fitz!” She puts her head in her hands and groans. “That is the last time I let any anyone set me up on a date. Maybe it’s the last time I’ll go on a date at all.”
When he opens the car door for her, she sits down about as crossly as anyone is capable of sitting, and he smiles to himself as he shuts the door and walks around the car.
“Fitz,” she says when takes his seat, “do you know precisely how many words came out of my mouth before your miraculous arrival?”
Fitz furrows his brow and sneaks a glance at her as he puts the car in gear. “How many?”
“One,” she says. “‘Hello.’”
“No,” he says, gaping. “Really?”
“Yes, really.” She folds her arms, still stewing. “Not that I didn’t have anything to say, of course.”
“But he insisted on telling me the most boring stories without letting me get a word in edgewise! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up. I thought he’d be interesting to talk to, seeing as he picks up dead bodies and brings them to the Academy morgue.”
Fitz grimaces. “He … what?”
“I thought he’d have fascinating stories about dead powered people,” she says with a shrug. “And he had plenty of stories, alright—all simultaneously boring and inappropriate. I’m not exactly sure how he did it. Ugh,” she says again. “I swear, the only good man left in this world is you, and you’re not interested.”
Fitz almost stops the car, feeling that the air has been sucked out of the room. “What?”
“What?” Jemma asks in return, bewildered, until she sees his expression and all the color drains from her face. “I didn’t—I just meant hypothetically that—I mean, it’s not like I’ve met every man in the world, so that was an obvious generalization.”
The car comes to a red light and he stops, clutching tighter at the steering wheel as his hands become slick with sweat.
“Did you—are you interested?”
Jemma becomes suddenly enthralled with the hands clasped together in her lap, and he has his answer in her blushing cheeks. He stares at her so long that he doesn’t notice the light has turned green until the person behind him honks.
“I, um.” He clears his throat, grateful he has an excuse to watch the road. “I mean, if I did ask you on a date,” he says, “you’d go with me?”
She looks over at him briefly, then picks at the lint on her dress. “If you asked,” she says.
“Well, I … what if we go right now?”
That gets her to look at him again with wide eyes. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, look, you’re already starving; we might as well get something to eat.” He swallows, keeping his eyes straight ahead. “You can get as much food as you like, because you know I won’t judge you, even if you order half the menu.”
“Go on,” she says.
“And, um, and you can talk my ear off about cellular biology, and I’ll thank you for it, since I need to study anyway. And if it ends up not working out, we pretend nothing happened and go right back to being friends.”
“Fitz,” she says, and he’s sure that he wants the street to open up and swallow him whole, “I thought you’d never ask.”
He’s never been more relieved in his life. “Really?”
“Really,” she confirms. “I only have one condition.”
He looks over at her, and this time, he knows exactly what she’s thinking.
“The Outback,” they say in unison.
“Fitz,” she says as they leave the restaurant, “why haven’t we done this already?”
To be honest, he’d been asking himself the same question. This dinner has been just as wonderful as all the dinners they’ve shared, except there was a twinkle in her eyes as she talked and a playfulness in her words.
Except, he notes with pride, this time they left the restaurant arm in arm, with her head on his shoulder.
“Oh look, Fitz, the stars!”
He stops at her command and follows her gaze, agreeing that they are indeed magnificent. But as he turns back to ask her a question and finds himself a breath away from her, all thoughts leave him. He bends down to her as her lips meet him halfway, and surely, this is the most magnificent thing in the universe.
When he pulls back to look at her, she smiles.
“And to think,” she says, “a few hours ago, I was having the worst date of my life.”
He smiles back at her, suddenly bold. “How is this one going?”
She answers by grabbing him by the collar and kissing him again.
i can’t get why yousef is looking at sana like this… i mean, he probably has something for her, but, exactly, what? what is, boy? what is this? you’re not supposed to act like this after what happened on may 12th. what is your point, yousef? what does this mean, julie? because i’m confused like a lot
He stood in the center of the forest that he owns, He told us he is proud of us, And thanked us for his new home. The birds sang a melody, And the trees all swayed. He told us about his fears, And how the fans chase them away. I think it’s ironic that many years ago, He wandered a forest and did not know where to go. But now he is speaking to thousands of people over the phone: people who love him and have made the lyrics his own.
why do you like that brazilian guy as grantaire so much?
I’M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!
Well, first of all, because he actually is the Brazilian Grantaire. His name is Bruno Sigrist, and he’s currently playing Grantaire (and he’s also the cover for Jean Valjean) in the brazilian version of the Les Mis, in its current run here in São Paulo.
I know it looks like I just woke up one day and decided I’d talk about this guy non-stop (ask @sonhoedesrazao and @thranduil-aran-edhil. They’re more than aware of how obsessed I am with him), but after I saw his performance as R I was totally blown away. He’s an amazing singer and he’s also delivered one of the best, most honest performances as our favorite drunk cynic I’ve ever seen. Plus, he’s got some great pipes??
Here, this is him singing Defying Gravity in five different languages. Just for the record, it’s not five different versions of the song. It’s just the one…alternated between five languages. And this is him performing Prince’s Kiss, from the Rock in Rio musical. Holy high notes, Batman!
Besides, he isn’t just incredibly talented. Noooo, much like our dear George Blagden, he’s also adorable as fuck. An actual cinnamon roll and an angel. Always super approachable and incredibly nice to his fans. And the best part is that he’s aware of how cute he is, so he really abuses that power, which leads to some amazing Instagram-stories and interviews (*_______*).
In the far corner of the room, a box shifted and shuffled from side-to-side. Something squeaked from inside it, scratching and bumping in an attempt to get free. When the box was lifted, it revealed a baby Bendy beneath, black beady eyes wide and staring up at their savior.
With everything that's been going on, I believe you're due for a vacation. Might I recommend going to the Outrealms and travel to the Alola region. It's a tropical paradise with very exotic creatures, unique culture and food so great, you'll wake up 3 in the morning to eat. I heard rumors of Outrealms opening up in the sky and summoning flying jellyfish or mosquitoes with the bodies of bersekers, but I'm sure you'll be fine.
“…I believe I shall pass. A true knight knows no reprieve from his or her duties save the grave… and this Alola region sounds to be an unnecessarily early invitation to said grave. The tropics tend not to agree with me, good stranger, as heavy armour and padding typically make the simple act of standing about a hot, sweaty nightmare. The culture and food sound pleasant enough, but the prospect of flying jellyfish and burly mosquitoes (gods’ breath, I never thought I’d say that aloud) are a definite repellent.”
“No, I believe that I shall do with my free time after the war what I originally had planned: patrol the capital, lend the common folk a hand, and perhaps pay my mother a visit if time permits it. Heavens help you, good stranger, if end up taking your own advice by going to that hellish ‘paradise’. No doubt you will find it brimming with miscreants, monsters, and lax law enforcement… gods know we Shepherds do whenever we travel through the Outrealm Gate.”