#I just added alt text sorry I didn’t at first!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astrowaffles · 7 months

Note

A through Z for the ask game >:]

HI JAMMIE

this is another long one, bear with me!

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

Uhhhhh well obviously I'm loving the gojo & megumi father-son shit at the moment, it really heals the depression. ALSO @grungeeuvu (alt. account @grungiiuvu) has gotten me back into MXTX, especially TGCF, so fengqing is top of my romantic ship list at the moment. I keep meaning to write something for them. Whoopsies.

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

my jjk moots are going to think i'm insane for this, but itafushi. It did NOT occur to me when I watched the anime, but then someone suggested it to me and then I rewatched with new eyes and ... yeah. itafushi canon.

also kuromikashou. I'm a fan of that now, too.

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

the rats are going to absolutely hate this announcement, but ushioi and oikage. Hate them both. oisuga? sure. iwaoi? love it. oihina? don't see it as a long term thing, but don't care. even atsuoi is passable. But both ushioi and oikage really irriate me for zero reason.

D - A pairing you wish you liked but just can’t.

bokuroo. they make total logical sense and they'd be hilarious together, but to me they're besties. sorry guys :(

E - Have you added anything cracky/hilarious to your fandom? If so, what?

i hear lots of good things about my JNT Rulebook, which is a whole load of crack. Also, for AOT i wrote Chaos Theory, which earned comments like "I had no idea funny fics were possible for this fandom". If you are a long-term aot girlie, I am so sorry for your loss.

F - What’s the longest you’ve ever been in a fandom?

Uh, I'm not sure? The first fandom I contributed to was PJO. I was there for maybe two years, and that's probably my record. I'm just over one year on haikyuu now. I'M SORRY I JUST KEEP CHANGING INTERESTS

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

My very first OTP was probably Eadric & Emma from The Frog Princess series. It doesn't really have a fandom but god, I loved those books... OR Ash & Serena from Pokemon. They were good too.

H - What is your favorite source text for fandom stuff (e.g., TV shows, movies, books, anime, Western animation, etc.)?

I mainly watch anime at the moment and usually they have more active fandoms, so I'm happy to stay with them. With books, you can never be sure that anyone else has ever read them.

I - Has Tumblr caused you to stop liking any fandoms, if so, which and why?

Nope, because I am good at staying away from scary people. #slay

J - Name a fandom you didn’t think about until you saw it all over Tumblr.

Supernatural. No explanation needed.

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

From Haikyuu, it's got to be Hinata, hasn't it? And he's weirdly underrated, considering he's literally the main character.

From other fandoms, I love Yona from Yona of the Dawn. She goes from literal spoiled princess to some kind of warrior queen, PLUS she gains emotional maturity. May we all grow to be like her.

L - Say something genuinely nice about a character who isn’t one of your faves.

You know what, guys? I do think Goshiki's cute. I do understand wanting to put him in your pocket. Personally, I don't, but I totally see it.

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

Sugawara. He's top tier friend material - chaotic, funny, caring, and would definitely feed into your delulu.

N - Name three things you wish you saw more of in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

My main fandom is probably haikyuu, so I wish I saw more of:

Appreciation for the writing!!!

Love for main characters. It sounds weird, but the fandom is full of people who have a pet side character who barely has any lines. This is GOOD, all character deserve appreciation, but can we get some applause for hinata??

Love for rarepairs. This sounds even stranger, considering my last point, but we need to get used to letting people ship whoever the fuck they want. As long as it's legal.

O - Choose a song at random. Which ship or character does it remind you of?

After a good old shuffle of my 94 hour playlist, I got Bad Romance by lady gaga. This is gonna come out of left field because I've never mentioned this fandom before, but it's sherliam from moriarty the patriot.

P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas).

I've mentioned this to friends before, but we totally need a TGCF hosptial au. Mu Qing is a surgeon, Feng Xin is a physiotherapist, Xie Lian is either a GP or an anesthesiologist, and Hua Cheng is some random reception guy. Mu Qing is always bullying Feng Xin for not being a 'real doctor'. Hualian are married. you see where I'm going.

Q - A fandom you’ve abandoned and why.

Harry Potter, for obvious reasons.

R - Which friendship/platonic relationship is your favorite in fandom?

I would die for Nobara & Itadori & Megumi. They deserved to be happy forever.

S - Show us an example of your personal headcanon

I wrote whole sections of fanfiction based off my headcanon that Megumi has flat hair like Toji, but he styles it spiky to be like Gojo. I KNOW the canon disproves it. I don't actually care.

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending?

Nope, because I am non-confrontational and uncreative.

U - Three favorite characters from three different fandoms, and why they’re your favorites.

I'm going niche on this one - well, more like going into fandoms my followers probably aren't into.

Ayame Sohma, Fruits Basket. Loving brother, perfect example of how to make reparations, and also literally fabulous. And gay.

Ooharano, All Out!. Voice by Ian Sinclair, very good at his sport, hilariously sarcastic. Emotional backstory that was just never mentioned again???

Siatrich Wynknight, The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke's Mansion. Very funny, likes to be a bit evil for the giggles, thinks it's funny when his younger brother endangers national relations. Gay.

V - Which character do you relate to most?

GUYS I HAVE NO IDEA. I'm probably closest to Bokuto or Kageyama - and that seems odd, because they're different people, but that's how I am.'

Also Gojo. Don't tell my readers I said that.

W - A trope which you are virtually certain to hate in any fandom.

Exes to Lovers, my beloathed. Hate it so much, I can't even explain why.

X - A trope which you are almost certain to love in any fandom.

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS "I KNOW THE PARTS OF YOU THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW YOURSELF" MY BELOVED

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (i.e., fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)?

RWBY, ITSV, Demon Slayer.

Z - Just ramble about something fan-related, go go go!

I guess I've always been interested in the idea of a true morally grey character, because sometimes there are characters that are described as morally grey, or even evil, when they're actually Just A Guy (*cough* Oikawa *cough*). The only character I can think of is probably Dazai from BSD. Everyone has an opinion and very few of them are correct. There is no way you can say he is a bad person, because many of his issues come from the fact that he is an orphan, raised by the mafia, and someone who took the opportunity to leave when prompted. Also, in his life after the mafia, he made a genuine effort to make good on his promises and fix his life, including saving Atsushi.

HOWEVER, you can't say he's a totally good person. He lived well in the mafia, because he didn't care about killing people and perhaps even enjoyed it, depending on how you view certain scenes. Many people would say that he's still not on anyone's side, he's only on his own side. This is debatable, but it's still there. PLUS you've got his continuation of the cycle of abuse through Akutagawa, and his willingness to pretend to betray his friends in order to get the outcome he wants. Everyone else is just a pawn to him.

I'm still undecided on him, but I'm proud of every fan that says "he's morally grey" rather than cutting it up into black and white. Remember that BSD was written for the stray dogs, not the ones who have lived happily all this time...

Thanks for the ask!

#astro speaks wonders #jammie 👹#bsd #haikyuu #all out #fruits basket #moriarty the patriot #yona of the dawn #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #hq #why raeliana ended up at the duke's mansion #tgcf

4 notes · View notes

cosmicpines · 3 years

Text

code july day 1 - future

au where jeremie's anti-xana program didn't work, taking place half a year after.

“Do’ya think we should start future-proofing our whole situation?” Odd was the first one to speak out loud in at least a half an hour, his voice echoing around the computer lab.

It was late. Not just “it’s a school night, we should turn off the Playstation” late, but “sunrise is in an hour” late. Ulrich, Jeremie, and Aelita were crowded on the couch – a fairly new addition to the lab that William and Odd had dragged over a mile to the factory after finding it on the street, a several-hour long affair that left them both sore for a week – blearily staring at chunky school-loaned laptop screens with piles of overdue library books on the floor in front of them. Odd and William were across the room, hunched over an oversized posterboard, surrounded by an accoutrement of Odd’s art supplies and printed out sheets of paper. What was keeping them up was potentially world-ending, but not in the usual way; instead of an evil AI, it was a history project due at 10 AM.

It wasn’t entirely their fault they didn’t start earlier – saving the world was a full-time job, afterall – but it’s not like they could give an excuse to Mr. Fumet that he would have believed. As the clock ticked over to 4, the prospect of having to pull the trigger on a return trip to finish loomed over them. They had already done it once, blearily uploading PowerPoint slides to the supercomputer to save them, giving Yumi an apologetic phone call in the morning. She was used to the disorienting resets at this point, having done them for half a year after graduating and moving across the country, but they usually texted ahead of time to warn her. She was sympathetic over the phone – she always was – but she was definitely irritated about having to retake an exam. They didn’t want to put her through that again and, besides, they couldn’t exactly keep the poster board from getting erased to time.

“Future-proofing the fact half of us might fail history?” Ulrich grumbled in response from across the room, leaning against the armrest of the couch. His eyes were glazed over in a stupor as he clicked idly around on the screen.

“Ulrich, are you done with your slides yet?” Aelita spat at him, now that the silent spell was broken, “I want to start stitching them together.”

“Uh… no.” Ulrich glanced at her, subtly turning his screen away from her piercing gaze, “Gimme ten more minutes? I’m almost there.”

Aelita clicked her tongue, probably remembering the last promise of the slides “in ten minutes.” She turned to her left and nudged Jeremie, “How about you – oh my god, Jeremie, can you focus?”

“Huh?” He looked up, and guiltly alt-tabbed back to a blank PowerPoint slide. “Sorry, I was just… I had a breakthrough about the bug in the Skid and I was…” He trailed off under her glare, “Sorry.”

Aelita clutched the side of her head, groaning. “Is it too late to go back to living on Lyoko where I don’t have to care about World War I and don’t need sleep?”

“Me too, thanks.” William muttered at Odd’s side, aggressively erasing a sentence on the poster, “Being XANA’s slave was less painful than this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, then raised his head, half smirk fading at the frozen-in-terror looks on his friend’s faces, “Sorry. Too soon?”

Odd, as he so often did, interrupted the awkward silence before people could make it worse, “Future-proofing us, is what I meant. Thanks for asking!” Nobody humored him as the typing across the room started back up and William started writing again, “Look, I’m just saying; we’re not getting any younger.” He brandished a red marker, filling in bubble letters on the top of the poster, “Yumi graduated. We’ve only got a semester left at Kadic –,”

“Could just all repeat a year like I did.” William grimaced. “And might again.”

Ulrich snorted, “Odd and I are probably on track for that.”

“Cheers,” William said, raising his pencil like a glass, without looking up, “Join the failure club.”

“BUT,” Odd interrupted, “Assuming we don’t! Because this presentation is going to be incredible,” That one earned a snort from everyone in the room (which was fair), “We’ll need someone who can do our jobs if we have to leave the good fight. Lyoko Warriors, the Next Generation! Kadic’s Next Top Lyoko Warriors!” He chuckled at himself, standing up, “We should put an ad in the paper: ‘Want a challenging, world-altering job? Come down to the abandoned factory!’” He hummed to himself, tapping his chin, “Our criteria would have to be strict. Can you imagine getting someone like, I dunno, Johnny? So, Johnny. Please, tell me: what’s your greatest fear? Giant crabs, you say? Why yes, that’s both oddly specific and also a dealbreaker. Next!”

Odd looked up, laughing, waiting for his friends to join in – Ulrich telling him he was being dumb, Aelita offering some other students and joking with him about their interviews, William making a snide remark about how he didn’t get an interview, a silent, but appreciative smirk from Jeremie – but got nothing. Jeremie’s head was buried in his laptop, and Aelita was – Aelita was glaring at him?

“What?” He asked her, but she said nothing, just raised an eyebrow in a you know what’s wrong look. Odd clearly didn’t, and turned to Ulrich for a clue, but Ulrich wasn’t giving him anything; he was just back to sulking, staring at his laptop. Odd ran through what he said again in his head, trying to find the offending phrase, when William punched him in the leg. “Hey –,” Odd started, ready to give a snappy retort, before seeing William was urgently tapping at the poster, where he’d just written something. Odd crouched down to read it.

you’re upsetting jeremie.

Odd glanced back at Einstein across the room, whose face was impassive, just typing away. Looking closer, though, he could see Jeremie had all the appearances of someone trying valiantly to pretend they weren’t upset – hunched shoulders, scrunched up face, not a single glance away from the screen. Aelita had stopped glaring to put a hand on Jeremie’s shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

Ugh. Odd sighed, wondering if he would have to apologize for just trying to lighten the mood. How was anything he said upsetting to Jeremie? He reached over for a pencil to respond to William, scribbling down on the poster.

Can’t he take a joke?

idk. Guess he thinks you’re blaming him.

Blaming him?? For what???? bro when did I even say anything like that??

you didn’t. don’t bro me bro. not my fault

Odd underlined his first bro, giving William a smile. William rolled his eyes before rubbing out their conversation with an eraser. Odd turned back to his coloring job and took a breath, surprised to see it come in shaky. It’s not your fault he’s upset, he thought to himself, pulling the cap off his marker. It’s fine. He leaned over to finish his coloring before noticing his hands were shaking. He clenched them, angrily. It wasn’t his fault Jeremie was upset. He was fine. Not his fault if Jeremie wanted to over-react. He’ll get over it and… where were the scissors?

He dug around their supplies for them, then, picking up a pile of pictures of historic figures, streaked from the bad library printer, took a pair of trembling scissors to extracting them. They were nearly done. One more section and they’d be done. One more and they could go to bed and Jeremie would get over whatever he was upset about and it was fine and it would all go away and it was fine it wasn’t his fault and –

“I’m working as hard as I can,” Odd felt a bit in his stomach open up as Jeremie spoke in a quiet, bitter voice. Odd stared pointedly down at the poster, blinking rapidly to try and assuage the pressure building behind his eyes, “I know we screwed up by not finishing before Yumi graduated, okay? I’m just… It’s a lot to figure out and I’m trying?! Is that not enough for – No. No, I know it’s not enough – I know I’m keeping us from having a normal life and it’s my fault William had to repeat a year and… and I –,” Jeremie’s breath caught, and Odd finally dared to turn his eyes to him, seeing his friend aggressively rubbing his eyes under his glasses, “I – I don’t mean to – look! It’s hard, alright?! It’s hard and I – I’m just so tired all the time and I’m sorry that we’re still awake for this too and that I –,” His voice finally broke as he started crying in earnest, his fist coming down on the side of the couch. Odd wanted to turn back to his work and brush it off, but the guilt clenching his stomach wasn’t letting go.

Hesitantly, Aelita put her hand on his shoulder again, “Jeremie…” but he shook it off again, turning away from her. She persisted. “It’s not your fault. We know you’re working –,”

“And it’s not enough! I’ve been working at this for years and I just I can’t come up with anything to defeat XANA –,”

“You had a lot of other things you needed to do first.”

He didn’t mean to, Odd was sure, but Ulrich’s eyes flickered to William for just a moment, and William’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, are we doing this now?” William grumbled, dropping his pencil. “Jeremie, you’re fine. Look, I’m sorry. Again. You don’t think I don’t regret every moment that I didn’t listen like a fucking idiot –” Jeremie, despite being wracked with tears, winced at the swear, earning a brief hint of a smile from Odd, “ – and got myself captured? Who then was a thorn in your asses for months? No. I get it. You’d probably be rid of XANA already if it wasn’t for me; you’ve made that crystal clear.”

“That’s not what I –,” Aelita glared at him, “You of all people should understand that I would never blame you for being trapped on Lyoko.”

“It’s not you that is. It’s him.” He jerked his thumb at Ulrich, who glared back at him.

“I’m not,” Ulrich muttered, “Cut it out.”

“Oh yeah? What did that look mean then, huh?”

“I didn’t –,”

“You blame me, and we all know it. You’re just butt-hurt over Yumi still, even though you had plenty of chances –,”

“Okay, that’s it.” Ulrich sat up straighter, “Maybe you’re still using Yumi as a scapegoat in all our arguments, but I’m done with that. Maybe I was an ass to you before because of her, but I don’t blame you for XANA, William. I never have. I was over it before you even joined,” He scowled at the ground, Jeremie’s crying filling the brief silence. “It was probably my fault you got captured in the first place. I wasn’t there because I had to talk to my stupid Dad and it was my job to tell Odd and I didn’t make sure – hell, even before that! Who was it that couldn’t protect Aelita back when XANA escaped from the supercomputer in the first place? If she hadn’t been alone, the Scyphozoa wouldn’t have gotten her, and XANA wouldn’t have escaped, and we would have been done.”

“Come on,” Aelita crossed her arms, turning away from Jeremie to the boy on her other side, “You’re being ridiculous. Half of that isn’t your fault.”

Odd wanted to chime in that it was Sam’s fault she didn’t listen to Ulrich, but his voice was still missing in action, his throat tight and unresponsive.

“I should have been able to protect myself,” Aelita continued, “It wasn’t your responsibility –,”

Jeremie laughed suddenly, hurt and bitter, “Protect yourself how? You couldn’t protect yourself because I was dragging my feet on giving you a proper weapon –,”

“We’ve talked about this!” She said, “We agreed it was more worth your time to work on an antivirus!”

“For a virus that didn’t exist! If I had just double checked –,”

“Double checked what? The faulty data you were being fed? There was nothing you could have done! If you want to blame anyone, blame me. Maybe it – maybe helping me made sense at first, when things were able to be stopped at a moment’s notice. But then even when you got me to Earth it wasn’t over, and things got worse, things got more dangerous – when we realized XANA could escape? That we couldn’t just turn it off with a switch? That – that should have been it.” Her voice dropped as she took a shaky breath, “You should have just let me turn the supercomputer off.”

“You were ALWAYS worth the risk, Aelita!” Odd finally snapped, terror shooting through his heart at the broken look on her face, the implications of her words, “You… you matter to us more than anything! Look, I’m sorry for bringing this all up, alright? I thought we could just joke around about running Lyoko Warrior interviews! I didn’t mean to get everyone upset. And speaking of! Jeez! All of you are such downers on yourselves! There’s like, a billion different things that could have happened!” He held out a hand, ticking them off, “Maybe William might not have gotten captured and instead XANA got Yumi or anyone else! Maybe, I dunno, Ulrich saved Aelita temporarily but then XANA tossed him in the digital sea! Maybe Jeremie could have noticed that Aelita didn’t have a virus sooner, and XANA just made a move sooner! Maybe – maybe – maybe if you had just let Kiwi be virtualized normally and not fuse with me he would have been a great Lyoko Warrior and would have bit the Scyphozoa and killed XANA! We don’t know, alright? I’m just trying to say that – ugh, forget it! Sorry! Jeez!”

Odd rubbed at his eyes, surrendering to the frustrated and exhausted stream of tears that leaked out of them. All of them, all of this – he kept trying to play superhero, to pretend that everything was going to be alright like in the movies, but in his heart he had to admit that this was starting to feel futile. Aelita’s virus, XANA’s escape from the supercomputer, William’s capture, Jeremie’s first botched attempt at his anti-XANA program, Franz Hopper’s sacrifice, Yumi’s graduation, their failure to stop space station from falling, Jeremie’s second anti-XANA program getting stolen by the AI, and now the looming threat of their own graduation… he wanted to be joking about needing to interview new Lyoko Warriors, really, but if graduation took them away from the factory… away from each other…

A hand landed on his shoulder, he realized he didn’t need to know who it was to press his own on top of it, to squeeze it and feel loved, as more hands, more friends, found their way to his other shoulder, to his back.

“I’m sorry, Jeremie,” he said, “And everyone else. I didn’t mean to –,”

“Don’t,” came a muttered reply from Jeremie, “We’re all acting tired and stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled. I knew you didn’t mean it.”

Odd let out an exhausted laugh, rubbing his eyes of the last of the tears, looking up and seeing his friends around him, “How late is it?”

“Too late,” Ulrich replied, pulling his phone out of his pocket, “We’ve got… three hours until classes start.”

A collective groan broke the spell over the room. Odd looked under his feet to the almost-finished-poster. Silently, all of them returned to their working positions. Odd kneeled down to finish gluing down the last of the faces to the poster. As the lull of busy work started taking over his mind, William nudged him.

“Sorry, I, uh…” William looked uncharacteristically bewildered, “This must have happened while I was – did you say Kiwi fused with you?”

#i am well aware that it is long past day one LOL #we'll see what else i get to #my intent going into this was to write exactly what odd wanted to joke about but then i realized that was kinda fucked up #codejuly #codejuly21 #code lyoko #i swear ill write fluff next i promise #mary blabs

56 notes · View notes

thran-duils · 3 years

Text

alt storyline

Per a couple requests, this is the other chapter I had started writing for Lost in Zero Gravity. It would not have ended the story and just added to the angst. And like I said, I felt we were all deserving of some (bittersweet) happiness for an ending. 😘 It is not a complete chapter since I stopped writing (and it is more than 1,200 words like I said on the other chapter, whoops. Almost 1,600).

I am done writing the story but am willing to share this!

Tony had been acting more distant as the weeks passed. He had even let you go to a doctor appointment without him, much to your immense shock. That was the moment you knew for sure that something was up. Steve had looked stunned as well seeing you walk in alone and you did not miss the brief look of satisfaction when you told him Tony was busy. He was in good spirits, coercing you to go next door so he could at least buy you lunch. Daryl was there, so you accepted since he was going to be sitting with you. Afterward, Steve had offered you a ride home, but you turned him down, leaving with Daryl.

As time went on after that, Tony was staying away for longer spans of days and when he was there, he was standoffish. He slept in the bed, but he brushed off your advances more often than not, telling you he did not want to “tussle the baby”. You had tried to say sex was perfectly fine during pregnancy, but he was firm. The nights he was not there, the bed was cold, and you were lonely. You wondered where he was. To you, there were only two options: He was either reconciling with Alessia or he had found another.

You were in your seventh month, and you cradled your stomach, sitting on the patio in the setting sun. It was getting to be unbearably hot, and the pregnancy made it even worse. You had AC inside, but you wanted fresh air, even if it meant sweltering in the August heat. The sweating was doing nothing to help lift your mood either. You found yourself alone again and when you had texted Tony asking if he was going to come over, he had responded not tonight. You felt miserable for yourself, sniffling every so often.

He had voiced his opposition to the situation from the beginning. He would not touch your stomach and you feared that it was what was driving the wedge between the two of you. You were not the fun side piece anymore, you were pregnant. That was not sexy, especially not with another man’s child.

Maybe this would cause you to be free of Tony too.

And that thought made you scared. Birth was not far off and after that, then what? If Tony was moving on and Steve was off with his child and his wife, where did that leave you? The apartment would be gone soon. You had no money of your own since you had not been allowed to work ever since this arrangement came into motion. And Steve was not giving you the money you owed him, he was just writing off the debt. And how would you work that out with Tony on his end for what you owed him? What if Tatiana would not take you back? You had caused a lot of stress for her. And you were not sure you even wanted to go back to the escort business.

Tears stung your eyes. This is exactly why you had not wanted any of this in the first place.

Later in the night, you were sitting on the couch, staring at nothing, still lost to your intrusive thoughts. The console had long since turned off after inactivity and you were sitting there in silence, eyes watery.

Running your thumb over the screen of your phone, you held it tight, just begging yourself for the strength to not do what you were thinking.

But the loneliness got the better of you.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? It’s late,” Steve answered sounding worried.

“No... no nothing’s wrong. With the baby,” you said, sniffling.

“What’s going on?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, caressing your abdomen. What the hell were you doing?

“Nothing. I’m sorry for calling so late. Goodnight,” you told him quickly before hanging up.

He was calling you back instantly and you sighed heavily, clutching the phone. He knew something was wrong and he was not going to let it go. You answered him.

“Y/N?” He questioned when you did not answer straight away.

“I’m here,” you said quietly.

“What is going on?” he repeated more forcibly. You shrugged even though he could not see you. “Do you need something?”

Your vision blurred as tears stung your eyes, your heart tugging at how concerned he sounded. “I’m lonely,” you whispered pathetically as some tears escaped.

“Where’s Tony?”

“Not here,” you admitted tearfully. “Again.”

You heard Steve sigh from the other end of the phone.

“I hate being this person, but I did tell you, dove. He has the attention span of a goldfish. I’m honestly surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the well of tears but it did not help. You sniffled again, wiping at your eyes.

“I know you did,” you whispered.

“You want me to come over?”

Your heart pounded. Was that what you wanted? Really? He was willing to do it, sounding eager too; he had not hid that undertone completely. You wanted company. You wanted touch. And he was the father... your mind flashed to your doctor appointments where he seemed to cherish touching your stomach, his face alight.

“Yes,” you said hoarsely.

<><><>

Steve got up quickly from bed, going to his closet to put some clothes on. He was grinning. That stupid bastard had done exactly what Steve had expected him to do and he had pushed Y/N right back to him. He knew Tony was going to get jealous the more he was faced with seeing Steve’s child growing and Tony was the poster child for self-destructive behavior. Steve had played the long game and it looked like it was paying off.

As he left the closet, he barely spared a glance at the empty side where Cecile’s clothes used to be.

<><><>

Steve walked into the apartment past you, and you closed the door behind him. His eyes were wandering over the layout. You were watching him closely, still disbelieving of yourself that you had allowed him to come over. His eyes landed on you again and he cracked a small smile. “Well, I will say, I was shocked to learn how close you were to Tony’s.”

“Me too.”

“Not your choice then?” Steve asked and you shook your head in confirmation. He made a small noise of acknowledgment before he moved further into the apartment, and you followed. Luna jumped up on one of the island barstools and meowed at him. He smirked, “Haven’t forgotten me then?” He reached out giving her a small scratch behind the ears.

“It’s certainly more Victorian than the last place. Not usually the taste I would think Tony would choose. He’s usually so sleek. But since it’s closer and he was keeping you away, seems well enough. It is a beautiful layout in a nice neighborhood. I’m glad he kept you safe in that way. And the little one, of course. Just making sure the both of you are doing alright and safe is what’s important.”

Steve turned to you when you didn’t respond and he saw you clenching your jaw, tears brimming. He exhaled softly, “Oh, dove.”

<><><>

Tony grabbed his slacks off the carpet and tugged them on over his boxer briefs.

“You’re not staying?” Yanira asked from behind him on the bed. She was still wrapped up in the sheets.

“No,” Tony chuckled, shooting her a look. “Did I stay last time?”

“No,” she answered him, looking slightly out off by his attitude. “But... I would like it if you would.”

She was pretty enough. He had slept with her once before and had gotten a whiff of desperation about her. After a couple other one-night stands, he had circled back, thinking the sex was worth the risk of her being potentially clingy. It had been good, but he was not going to do this a third time. Not with the way she was trying to get him to stay. The clingy feeling was not a potential anymore, it was a reality. It was not attractive and furthermore, a third time would indicate something serious, and he did not want to give off that vibe. This was strictly casual.

He was using a different escort service than Tatiana’s, not wanting to potentially order a girl who happened to know Y/N and would tell Elisha and then Elisha would tell Y/N. He did not want that mess. As soon as Y/N was done with this business with Steve, everything would go back to normal.

Tony snatched his dress shirt off the ground and threw it around his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta go.”

He heard her sigh, and he rolled his eyes, his back to her. He buttoned up his shirt quickly and finished dressing himself. Snatching his cell phone off the side table, he froze seeing he had a missed call and a text from Wylan.

“Is Mr. Rogers supposed to be here? He said Y/N called him?”

Tony opened his phone to see if he had any missed texts from Y/N but there was nothing past when he had told her he was not coming tonight.

<><><>

Tony walked into the apartment and found Steve coming down the hallway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tony snarled.

“I was coming for water,” Steve said in an eerily calm voice. “Can you keep it down? Y/N is finally sleeping.”

~~~

Forever tags: @coconutqueen21 @undecidedsworld

Fic tags: @icant-hangout-imdrumming @oceaniamaddness @multifandom-superlover @imsonick @holl2712 @here4thefanfics @agustdowney @fanofalltheficsx @buttercandy16 @last-saturday-night @woohoney

#my shit #fic update #tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark tony stark #dark steve rogers

46 notes · View notes

perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Empires on the Horizon XVIII

Jason is a CEO: Part XVIII

this is the last chapter (excluding epilogue)?!!? can you believe we’re here? oh gods someone hold me i’m gonna cry. also I'm basically just writing jercy fluff at this point, lmaoo conclusions to stories? Sorry don't know her.

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

There were nights, cold and sweet and gentle and strong, that made Jason feel he could be anything except what he wanted. Nights, not unlike this one, that he understood what poets meant when they described the world in jigsaw pieces and tapestries, and random words strung together to create feelings he couldn’t give names to.

But here, on his last night in Panarea, the warm summer air gave away to something sweet and hopeful as he walked along the cobbled streets listening to waves crash against the shore in what he first thought was agony but now knew was relief. It echoed inside him, calling to the strings of his heart which had been snapped and battered and pulled apart until fine threads were the only thing holding it together.

His shoes scuffed against the stone wall as he moved towards it, and then away, and then towards, as if gravity didn’t know which way to guide him. He could hear his sister’s voice in his head, frustrated but amused. “Can you walk straight, Jason!” She’d poke his side as if trying to keep him in one direction. “I swear even crabs are jealous of how sideways you move.” He’d stick his tongue out and purposefully cross over in front of her, just a beat too slow so she kept having to stop short to avoid crushing him or her toes. It did not amuse her. Looking back on it now, he’s surprised she didn’t murder him on the spot. But he supposed his sister gave him a lot of allowance for things he wouldn’t have gotten away with if they were still a normal, routine family. She conceded where she had to in favour of their situation and his unfailing spirit.

His fingers brushed against the wall, his thigh knocking it gently and then he was looking at the little restaurant tucked into the alcove of rock that makes up the bay and he could see the candles that lit up the pathway and heard the clinking of cutlery. It was truly a beautiful, gentle sight. But that was not his stop, at least not tonight. Maybe when he came again. For it was inevitable that he would; if for no other reason than to relive memories that had shaped and reshaped and coloured his life. To relive Percy.

The oceanographer was set to meet him in a few minutes so they could savour a last walk on the beach, one of many they had taken in the week, and finally crash into their hotel room drunk on nothing but each other and ocean air. Well if everything went the way Jason thought it was going to go that was the plan. But life had a… persistent way of crushing his plans into flakes and sprinkling it over various brands of chaos. Or at least, he thought, that’s how it has felt over the years. He supposed it wasn’t always bad chaos, but learning to let the current lead him rather than trying to control it had taken many long, painful years.

“So very lost in thought.” A voice, rich and inviting and warm like hearths, said from behind him.

He turned slightly, catching the breeze, feeling it hug his ribs— he hadn’t bothered to button up any of his button downs unless he was sitting in a restaurant, or museum, or anywhere that he needed to be decent… enough— and caught the entirety of Percy Jackson in his gaze. “Hello mon cerise.”

“Do you ever give yourself a chance to just be?” The tone was teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of familiar worry that he knew coated his sister and friends when they found him lost to his own mind.

He smiled at his friend. “I try,” He winced, “Sometimes I can only try to want to.”

A hand came up to squeeze his arm, no words of comfort or mutterings of “you are trying”, “you’re great”, “we can only do the best we can”. Bullshit, there was no bullshit uttered from Percy’s lips. And Jason wanted to cry with relief.

“Are you ready for your flight home?”

They would not be on the same flight. He was leaving tomorrow and his friend in three days time. Despite not seeing, or sitting next to each other on their way in, he still felt some sense of loss in knowing they weren’t going to be together until a few days later. Still it gave him time to sort out his life, and get it back on track.

“I think so. I’m going to miss this though.” And he wasn’t sure how much of it had got to do with the man next to him and how much was the peace and comfort the holiday itself had brought.

“You will find that time again.” Percy nodded, understanding his ache, his sadness.

“We’ll have to drag each other back here,” He winked, “And maybe get one room on purpose this time.”

The laughter that washed over him was as beautiful as the ocean crashing beside him. “Come on, my dear.” He held out a hand for the blonde to grasp, to hold, to intertwine. “Let us breathe in the stars one last time.”

They crashed into their hotel room that night, still holding hands, glued together, concrete settling around their silhouettes. They will become structures that last longer than the end of time. Jason felt the softness of the bed, cool and inviting after the ocean breeze that fluttered through their window all day. Percy fell half on top of him, laughing into his shoulder. He could feel the warm breath through the cotton of his shirt. He could feel so much all at once. He thought maybe he understood the universe.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had that last cocktail,” Black hair tickled his chin, as the man looked up at him, green eyes glittering with joy and alcohol infused excitement.

“We only had three,” He laughed. “How low is your tolerance?”

“Dont tease me.” Percy pouted, and suddenly they are flung back to being twenty and wild and free from the burdens of taxes but trapped under the burden of assignments and it’s kind of all the same thing in the end. Homework. And Jason can see Percy pouting at his books, a little frustrated but mostly resigned because it’s a Friday night and he can hear the beginning clamours of all the campus parties and maybe tonight he can just be a kid. The work will be there in the morning, but a good time must be seized as soon as it appears.

The pout, Jason thought as he watched those lips, was childish… and completely adorable. “I’m not going to tease you, moró mou” He brushed the back of his hand against high cheekbones, amazed at the gentle hint of red that passed over dark skin.

“I don’t drink very often.” The black-haired man winced, “My tolerance is really low, like Rachel gave me two tequila shots once and I almost passed out in her bathroom low.”

It struck him then, how much he still has to learn about Percy. About how he knows Percy drools a little when he sleeps, and prefers oat milk with his coffee, and doesn’t stop a task until the hand strikes one of the four quarters of the clock, and he puts both socks on before putting his shoes on, and he unbuttons his shirts almost all the way as soon as he gets in because he needs to escape from its confines. He knows that Percy needs to be free. But he doesn’t know the usual first date things, the ‘we’ve just started dating’ things, the normal things. Like why he doesn’t drink very often. It is exhilarating to know he has so much to learn.

“Do you want to know why?” He must have been staring for too long because Percy shifted over him, not impatient, just curious.

“I want to know everything you’re willing to tell me,” He cupped the back of his friend’s neck, tangling the tips of his fingers in the curls. “Everything you want to show me.”

“The world,” He breathed, the reply rushing out of him. “I want to show you the world.”

“Where will we start?”

“At the beginning.”

The answer was so simple, so plain, and unburdened. Jason wrapped it around his heart, felt it settle in his veins like stardust. At the beginning. Where else? Where else?

“Are you ready?” Percy Jackson asked, head tilted, green eyes full of indescribable things.

All Jason could do was nod. No where else but here.

The beginning started with a kiss.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Tags (if you want to be added/taken off the tag list just let me know. All my channels of communication are open):

@lesbian-peanuts

@leyontheway

@queen-of-demons-and-hell

@msdrpreist

@sparkythunderstorm

@nishlicious-01

@lucyisblue// @spoopylucy

@legendary-cupcake

@larrikin-is-a-himbo

#empires on the horizon #part 18 #jason is a ceo #jason grace #percy jackson #jercy #pjjg fanfic #pjjg series #pjssg fanfic #pjssg series

14 notes · View notes

bladekindeyewear · 4 years

Text

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-05-19

Figured an upd8 was coming, it’s felt like enough time has passed for one.

Huh, looking at my last post I’d completely forgotten I was supposed to play through Pesterquest sometime... work is busy and stressing me out a bit, I’m not sure when I’ll have the energy on the side to do that. (Maybe I’ll livetweet it like I did Undertale a while ago, but this time not looking at my twitter replies so I don’t get spoiled by One Guy™?)

Also, including bonus commentary on A Threat Sensed.

Okay, going in completely blind. I’d guessed from context that we’re hopping over to Meat side to get a chapter there before we can come back to actually see Yiffy?

Yep. Okay, what is this about exactly?

(Agh, dammit, I’ve been copying and pasting so much at work remoting into Windows lately that now I’m automatically trying to hit control-C instead of command-C to copy.)

> CHAPTER 9. How Goes The Eulogizing, Dear?

CONTENT NOTE: This chapter contains Child Abuse.

Which one???

Wait

JANE: (Where is he?) JANE: (It's a question I've found myself asking many times in recent days.)

Holy SHIT we get two Candy chapters in a row??? So we might see her right away?? No, it’s gotta just be another tiny glimpse.

(Has two Candy chapters in a row happened before? Future Boots, scroll back up and put this here. FUTURE BOOTS: “I forgot to scroll back up and put that here.” EDIT: Also, not the first time with two in a row, but it IS the first time with THREE in a row, huh.)

So Jane has to be talking about either Tavros or Dave. --Oh, if this was a Candy Side chapter title, I guess Rose or Jade is eulogizing Dave for John?

> (==>)

JANE: (Where now is our merry savior?) JANE: (Where is the horn that was honking?) JANE: (Where is the cape and the codpiece, and the...) JANE: (The...) JANE: (Oh, fiddlesticks.)

What? Is she reading a childrens’ book? --Oh. She’s eulogizing Gamzee. So that gives us a third option, where the rebellion crashes the funeral somehow, probably audiovisually rather than in person. (Which would make sense, given Candy practically began with Gamzee crashing Dirk’s funeral.)

> (==>)

Ah never mind, she’s still writing it.

That sure is a single button drama-remote that’s going to be pressed at some point. Oh, and who the fuck keeps a spork in a pen cup??? --No no, don’t say it’s one of those pens with a spork at the eraser end, either ready-made or rubber-banded to the side. That would make sense. You totally know it isn’t that and is just a spork.

JANE: (Okay, poetry is out.) JANE: (What else?) JANE: (Hrm...) JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.)

Why were you crying in Jake’s arms about his death if you didn’t care that much? Did you just want him to hold you and kinda make him feel in on things again? Or did you just cry yourself out about him?

JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I bet the rest of Earth C figured out a more inclusive term millenia ago FUCK I accidentally added millennia to my dictionary misspelled instead of correcting it hold on--

...There, killed the entry for it. ...Huh. Take a look at my Chrome dictionary’s custom-added words over the years, apparently:

Caliborn Eridan Kanaya Matriorb Meenah Tavros alchemiter dichotomic nephilim reblogged uncaptchalogues uncaptchaloguing

That’s fun.

Okay back to reading. Millennia. Phew! Where was I.

JANE: (One really good and calculated weep could do it, I think.) JANE: (But then there's the danger that I might get carried away and do it for real.) JANE: (And I can't risk that.)

So still feeling something, just too used to calculating over the past years.

JANE: (What can I say about him that will stir up their emotions?) JANE: (Do I mention the stuff about the milk?) JANE: (Think Crocker, think.)

WHY would you-- how much did Gamzee normalize adult breastfeeding?!

JAKE: Ahoy over there!

Not the best time.

(The thing with the divorce papers from the Epilogue and John implying he was planning with Jake to execute something that sounds like a divorce... is that going to be sprung here? Did her lawyers send the divorce papers way back when she was in a fit of pique, and he just had them available to sign now at the tactical moment? Or... let me pull the exact text...)

JOHN: now, harry anderson, i know that you and tavros haven't always gotten along. JOHN: but i am going to have to ask you to try and look out for him for the time being. JOHN: your uncle jake and i... well, i'll explain later. JOHN: let's just say that gamzee isn't the only family member jane is losing today.

(So is John going to submit the papers? Or did they already go through a while ago and default custody to John or something who’s going to adopt him too or some nonsense? And did he plan this out with Jake NOW, or a while ago, and if only a while ago, is Jake going to KNOW whatever John’s about to pull in that respect is about to happen??)

> (==>)

Butte

Janepalme

> (==>)

JAKE: Er... how goes the eulogizing, dear?

Gah. I completely forgot again that capitalized-first-letter chapter names don’t mean KANAYA is saying them. That probably makes a lot more sense out of my wondering about the chapter title earlier to those of you who didn’t realize I was making that mistake.

JANE: It turns out that it's mighty difficult to find touching things to say about a person, the relationship with whom was predicated on deep-seated mutual loathing.

Hah!

--A loathing you regarded as largely more important to you than Jake ever was, by the way. You asshole.

JANE: I imagine this is one of the reasons no funerary tradition was ever established on Alternia, besides the barbarism of their culture. DIRK: Jesus christ. JANE: Not only did a significant proportion of their interpersonality depend on romance in the form of hatred, but it was a society based on cruelty and violence. JANE: What reason could they have had to provide for the dead? JANE: What kind of last rites could they have even imagined?

I wondered for a moment why (bg!)Dirk of all people would react to a single line of her starting to bring up prejudices, but then I realized that (1) Brain Ghost Dirk is a little more Jakey, and (2) Dirk knew that more ranting would follow the first line.

JANE: I can't think of anything good to write about him because deep down, I hated his guts. JANE: But he was and is beloved of the multitude, so I have to think of something regardless. JAKE: Im not sure i understand. JANE: Don't worry your pretty little head about it. JANE: This is politics, Jakey. JANE: Lying through your two front teeth about people you hate is about as good a definition as it's possible to get. JANE: But, by gum, is it tiring work.

Mm. It’s a position Jane put herself in, but it’s still a legitimate position once you’re there.

JANE: The funeral is tomorrow, after all.

Got it.

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

Wait, bowl?

Oh god damnit which of you had the idea to feed her with a DOG BOWL. Either of you could have thought of it, and either of you would be horrible for it.

> (==>)

Huh, that outfit on Yiffy looks familiar, like a reference to something. And a black tail? This definitely isn’t quite the look I was expecting from Jade Plus Rose, but I suppose the snazzy tie is a Roseish vibe. Also reminiscent of Jade’s old Dead Shuffle dress. Formal wear and soccer cleats??

JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN. I don’t see anything over her mouth! Did she stick something in it, or drug her? File her fucking teeth???

I mean I did forget the Child Abuse trigger warning to be fair. Hoping whatever would be on her mouth is just not shown in-panel yet for stylistic reasons.

> (==>)

JAKE: Its only mac and cheese, sorry. JAKE: Its all I know how to make, haha. JAKE: ... JAKE: I um... hope you can safely partake of cheese? JAKE: ... JAKE: Well, JAKE: Bon appetit.

How the fuck did Jake eat on his island then? --Oh right, preserved food cans that Grandma Jade stored up, I think I remember. Why would cheese not be a thing for them, if it’s fine for Jade? I know he’s probably not just worried about lactose intolerance.

Either way, if she’s drugged here, that’ll mean we won’t get a good idea of her for a while, so which is it...

> (==>)

DIRK: Bon appetit. DIRK: Seriously dude? JAKE: (What? Did i pronounce it wrong?) DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???) JAKE: (I feel awful enough as it is without you getting on my case about it.)

Ah, missed the bone pun. AND, yeah, Jake, you’re a fucking idiot, you could have put it in a cup or something.

JAKE: (So far ive yet to see anything come of that brilliant plan of yours.) JAKE: (Are you sure sending that message to the others was enough?)

Okay, so he IS coordinating this slightly.

> (==>)

Horrifying image to contemplate, eh Jane?

Or anger-inducing?

> (==>)

Seems about right!

> (==>)

Oh that’s a GREAT exasperated Jane face.

JANE: I hope you're not expecting dessert, young lady.

I like how Jane didn’t notice, comment on, or care about the bowl. How can you hate a kid so much??

> (==>)

Oh I know why I felt like I recognized the outfit style, it’s because it’s ANIME AS FUCK. Feels like some Persona 4 Arena nonsense, and I say that not having played any of those games or even remembering what they looked like. Also, white hair, black fur’d dog parts? Nice change of pace.

YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR... JANE: Oh no you don't.

Red text? What color exactly... “#D00009”? Huh. That’s nowhere near Alt-Callie’s #FF0000, and darker than Dave’s #E00707. In fact, let me go back and check those spilled color pins the commentary pointed out from an update or two ago... no, the red pin is #E63225, closer to Dave’s color. (Also, is Yiffy blocking the doorway out? That’s a pretty slack chain then.)

Did Jane see to it that she wouldn’t bite with like, a water spray bottle?

(EDIT: Oh my FUCKING GOD, THAT's why it's #D00009...)

> (==>)

FUCK I didn’t notice the shock collar in the Yiffy image! FUCK YOU, Jane.

> (==>)

Keeping someone in line with collars, especially ones that punish whenever one strays out of line, has always been a decent way for her to mix in some Doomy control of others to show how she’s “grown” to balance her main role and her Tiara-controlled-like inverse for more power. Doom in part represents boundaries that you can’t cross without getting hurt or punished.

> (==>)

FUCK, those little buck teeth!? D’:

JANE: That's more like it.

She HAS to have more of a reason for hating her than hating her parents, right? Like, more than that and general racism applying to partdogfolk?

> (==>)

Hey fuck off with that!

> (==>)

This is a pretty cool ima-- are those piercings on her dog ear? I didn’t notice that in the first shot, neat.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over. JANE: Do I make myself understood?

What the fuck? WHY would you do that? Why does Jane run "Ms. Paint’s Home for Inconvenient Girls”? What did Yiffy do to piss her off so much there, how much trouble could she have caused?

I don’t know if she’s referring to the behind-Kanaya’s-back part as disgusting or she’s just being MORE racist.

> (==>)

JANE: We don't want you passing out during the ceremony, do we?

Oh, just showing the hostage off during the clown funeral, huh? Classy much?

> (==>)

JANE: Now, be a good hostage and get some rest, Yiffany dear. JANE: We've got a big day tomorrow.

For a politician, Jane’s not good at looking at herself in a mirror.

> (==>)

JANE: Night night. JANE: Hoo hoo.

> (Yiffy: Lights out.)

Huh, dream stuff is gonna be relevant out in Candy then? *click*

Okay, dark background all of a sudden. Properly dramatic? You even have to highlight the non-link “>” part of the Next link to see it.

> (==>)

-- thespiansGlamor [TG] began pestering adamantGriftress [AG] --

Well, I don’t know WHY it’s happening, but the white-backed pesterlog suddenly on the dark site framing is certainly evocative. Of like, a mood, or something.

TG: i thought he was pretty quiet down there. TG: we'll make a rebel of him yet! AG: Lol. AG: I think it's more that he can't sleep. AG: I know how he feels. TG: yeah. TG: today was a lot. AG: ... TG: do you wanna talk about it? AG: Ugh, not you as well.

It’s really jarring to transition between Homestuck’s “kids jarringly mentally resistant to freaking out about the end of the world” to HS^2′s more realistic “kids traumatized by their first firefight even though it was an overwhelming victory-escape”.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Are they about to have an “I wonder what Yiffy’s like” talk?

> (==>)

Very similar Tav/Vrissy convo to the previous one.

GG: I havent ever shared a bedroom before,,, GG: Not even for a slumber party,,, AG: Tavvy, you are just a8out the saddest person I've ever met.

Well, we have an even better idea how horrible Jane can be with kids, now. From Nanna to THIS is quite jarring. I wonder how the double Nannasprites that must still be around here somewhere feel?

> (==>)

TG: nothing about my dad is cute. TG: what are you even saying. AG: Lmao. TG: seriously! TG: i think he has something against that word, even. he gets super weird about it. AG: He's a strange and funny m8n. TG: yeah. TG: ... TG: i think something bad must have happened.

...um. What? Why would John have some sort of trauma about the word cute or being called it?

Did John dress up as a hint of his buried June ambitions as a kid and Dad lavish him with “SO CUTE” praise in an epic supportiveness backfire that caused him to shelve the idea of wearing non-masc clothes and being happier on the flipside of gender ever again??? Because if that’s how June gets canonized as promised, it’s a little harsher than the back of my mind was hoping. I guess it kind of had to be though from the premise of how it was read into his childhood for the original idea, though. Fuck, I hope this Cute business is about something different from that (like a Terezi reference or such) just to get less John Sads. (But still June. Definitely still want to get June.)

> (==>)

Oh, and now Vrissy is doing nothing but talking about what she said she didn’t want to talk about, of course. (Also I like how JANE’s now being called the Batterwitch.)

AG: And the worst part was they didn't even fight a8out it! AG: That made me madder than 8nything else. AG: It felt like I was the only person who even W8S mad! GG: I dont think thats true,,, AG: What would you know a8out it?! GG: Maybe nothing,,, GG: Sorry,,, GG: Its just,,, GG: To me,,, all the way through the conversation,,, aunt kanaya looked even angrier than you,,, AG: ... AG: Adults are so fucking weird.

Guh, I don’t want to be reminded how hurt a good chunk of the fanbase is by Kanaya getting hurt this badly.

Original Tavros was always SLIGHTLY perceptive of others sometimes, but maybe perceptiveness is being hinted at as a Tavros specialty? We still don’t know his classpect/hero-title or have any firm guesses based on purely him evidence. (Also, frightened kids of abusive households tend to learn to get perceptive pretty fucking quickly I hear.)

> (==>)

TG: dad was sitting in the cafeteria with aunt jade and your moms. TG: it looked like they were discussing something important... they were whispering and stuff.

[etc etc] Alright, the what-happened-to-Dave bit. And I imagine they’re kind of helping John grieve there, since Rose and Jade have talked that out already.

TG: aunt kanaya's was the only face i could see. TG: she was standing next to them, but she wasn't looking at what was going on. TG: almost like she couldn't bear to. AG: I doubt it. Kanaya's got a8out as much Emotivity as a very reclusive stone. TG: ok, i think that is bullshit but whatever. TG: she saw me standing there, but didn't say anything. she just shook her head slightly, and pointed back out into the hallway i came down.

Yep, giving them some space to grieve. Also-- gosh, shouldn’t Vrissy have the same emotive senses that Aranea implied Vriska shared with her? Kanaya isn’t that EXPRESSIVE but she’s certainly full of emotion. Also, I hope part of her not bearing to watch wasn’t lingering anger toward Jade and Rose mixing with that, but there probably was a bit of that too, though Dave being gone is so much harsher than that. --I just realized they might not have broken the news to Karkat yet, either.

AG: I guesadxcxzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz TG: vrissy?

Put to sleep by someone slumping down on your phone keypad, or surprised by something about the other conversation?

Oh shit, “other conversation” reminded me I didn’t look at Tavros’s chumhandle:

glutinousGymnast [GG]

HHHHHhhhhuh. Hm... huh? hhhh. huh? what, but. Why would. ?????

I really don’t understand what that chumhandle or any of its entendres should signify in this context.

Also, this means for our new four kids we have TG, GG, AG, and ??.

> (==>)

GG: I think she might have succumbed to sleep quite suddenly,,, GG: It would explain the,,,,,, interesting messages I've been getting for a while,,, TG: hehe. TG: i guess that tracks. TG: she does that from time to time.

That’s... strange. Homestuck’s taught us to be suspicious of that.

TG: ... TG: tav? GG: Yes,,, harry anderson,,,? TG: what does it feel like to know someone who's died?

Who is Harry referring to? (EDIT: Yes I know Gamzee for Tavros, but I meant Harry talks like he's worried he'll have to feel that way soon?) Is he just kind of inferring that something bad might have happened to Uncle Dave? Got that perceptive “parents are about to tell me about a death in the family” vibe? Or did he overhear more than he let on to Vrissy?

...alright, that’s the last page of this update. Looks like this chapter is going to continue to have a good bunch of grieving, or talk around it.

---

Now for Bonus Commentary for A Threat, Sensed. For some reason I have a dim memory of like... reading this myself without commenting on it? Or skimming it? But I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that. Weird. Must have imagined doing it.

Ah, I think I saw the opening paragraph scrolling Patreon, and my mind kinda filled in the blanks, this is still looking new to me.

Okay, mostly banter and japes in the commentary here. About Dirk “throwing a huge tantrum in his philosophy cave”.

We’ve had quite a bit of speculation on whether this is “really” Andrew. To that, I think we’d say that it doesn’t “really” matter.

Really? That was speculated about? :/

Here we discover that Dirk has not, as some people have speculated, been directly intervening into the Candy timeline, or influencing it in any way. In fact, he has a very hard time seeing anything going on there at all.

Mhmm, and that was a pretty important thing to learn.

A couple of years ago I might have agreed with the take that everything happening in Candy is simply too outlandish to ever happen naturally, without direct, villainous interference, but that was before literally every fucking batshit insane thing that has happened on Real Life Earth started going down, and now I will believe literally anything.

This is a nice bit of distraction from the idea that at least the opening parts of the Candy story were written/narrated by Original, Alive Calliope over on meat side. To refresh your memory of what was pointed out to me:

ROXY: back when jade first got all effed up callie saw somethin and it made them freak out ROXY: it took me weeks to convince them that it was safe to come home ROXY: but now we got the opposite problem and they arent leavin the house at all ROXY: they stay home all day with the blinds drawn paintin some weird ass shit on the walls TEREZI: WH4T? ROXY: its not as bad as it sounds i promise ROXY: some of it is like ROXY: weird and violent?? ROXY: like lotsa nasty purple blood and um ROXY: nudity???? TEREZI: >:? ROXY: yeah yikes ROXY: but MOST of it is cute stuff like... various combos of all of us being happy and gettin married and shit ROXY: anyway thats kept callie kinda busy

Which tracks with the initial out-of-character-seemingness of almost everyone at the start of Candy, and how they kind of tried to railroad things back onto the “Happy??” track after Dirk derailed it with his weird self-accumulation suicide, along with some of the flowery-idyllic descriptions of characters seeing each other bathed in a halo of light and such.

Of course, they’re not going to out-and-out STATE that Calliope was at fault for that narration, helping the Candy story not necessarily fall out the way it did “naturally”, until we finally get a glimpse of her on the heroes’ ship in Meat probably still painting the continuing Candy events, inspiring them into the void of the singularity with her latent powers. Til then, it’s a bit of misdirection whenever the topic is to be brought up. Along with a mix of Roxy’s late-Candy point to John of more or less “why COULDN’T we have done this naturally? you don’t know”.

He might even think that he has more direct power over the narrative than Hussie does himself. Surprise, motherfucker, you are a fictional character.

I’ll quote this next part in full:

There’s been talk of whether or not this bonus was written in the two days between its release and the Yiffy reveal chapter. The answer is--no. It was written over a month ago. But I think the things it addresses were not difficult to suss out. Obviously, Dirk is highlighting the issues that the readership are having with Yiffy, in his typical Dirk fashion. If it seems a little defensive, well...I suppose it is. Yiffy is one of the two hard lines drawn in the sand, and all of us love her, and we’re hoping that everyone else will love her too. But more than that, it focuses on the fact that update culture has a rhythm to it--shock, revulsion, acceptance (or not), and then excitement (or not). Will it follow that pattern this time? Who knows. I guess we’ll find out.

Yeah, given what was going to be dropped on us I expected they would have had exactly this lined up, especially because Andrew specifically mandated Yiffy. --I wonder why they aren’t mentioning that somewhere in the commentary and only on one of their Twitters?

Also quoting this:

There’s something both incredibly “cringe” and self-indulgent, as well as philosophically intriguing, about the author arguing with his villain, especially since he’s writing both halves of the conversation himself. You are, for all intents and purposes, trying to solve a problem that you have created for yourself. You are looking an aspect of your personality in the eye and asking, hey, what the fuck, man?

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

Since it’s part of the central struggle of this story, and kind of the question Andrew’s tried to imply with every Homestuck work about what right we have to keep these characters trapped in a story, and if they’d be better off escaping it.

I’m really trying to avoid quoting so much of this, since the commentary is paid... but I think we can make an exception here? I’ll have only quoted about half of it; just, the really plot-important half. Plus, I left out a LOOOT of japes.

Dirk has a certain idea of how stories are supposed to go. That’s pretty much what the Epilogues is about. The audience also has a certain expectation of how a story is supposed to go. In a way, the Epilogues were also about that. They were taking a story that had reached the traditionally “acceptable” happily ever after, and saying, wait, no. What happens next? Thinking past happily ever after in any story is a terrifying prospect. Once Cinderella marries the prince, what then? Sure, she got what she wanted, but who knows that it will be everything she dreamt it would? What if she changes her mind, if not today, what about ten years from now? What if the prince dies of malaria?

And I’m...

Yeah I don’t have anything else to add here, I’m kind of out of brain juice to think about this tonight. BUSY day I had. Y’all take care!

#Homestuck #hs2 #Homestuck Liveblog #upd8 #Homestuck^2 #bladekindeyewear #blastyoboots #spoiler #spoilers #Homestuck Commentary

45 notes · View notes

gifted-burnout-archive · 4 years

Text

Codename: Candy

Part Eight - Mounting Evidence

Word Count - 1437

Author’s Note: Goddammit Jack! Honestly... Anyway, back to the story.

That night, Jack couldn't sleep. He lay awake, tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to doze off, but as 4 am came around, he sighed in defeat, pulling himself out of bed and getting ready for a row. He cycled down to the river, parking up outside the rowing shed and taking out his boat.

If there was any place Jack could stop thinking, it was the river. Instead, he focused on the movements he made to propel his boat along the strait. The way his fingers gripped the oars, how his legs stretched and contracted, how each pull of his arms was powered by the muscles in his back. It was his form of meditation, as he assessed every point in his body and how each pushed him up and down the river, taking him where he wanted to go.

After an hour of the quiet, as other rowers started to appear for their morning exercise, Jack pulled back into the dock, lifting his boat and storing it back in the shed. He locked it away, running his hands through his hair and wiping the sweat from his forehead, he began his cycle back to the flat, passing Candy's hotel as he went. He could've sworn he saw her out on a run, but shook it off, claiming sleep deprivation for the sighting and pushing onwards.

Leaving the bike in the hall, he rushed around the apartment, cursing as he realised the milk was off and the bread stale. He headed for the shower, washing away the sweat from his workout and readying himself for another day of work. After 27 minutes in the flat exactly, he set off again, this time for work.

What if he said yes last night? He ploughed over the thought for a while, wondering what might have happened with Candy in her hotel room. Would it have been a platonic drinking session, or something more? He tried not to think about it, but it kept coming back into his head, and by the time he reached work he felt worse about it than he had the night before. He should have said yes.

"Doctor Ryan?" Jack snapped out of his thoughts to find himself at the reception desk, the receptionist Jackie looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Hi Jackie, sorry... I have a new member on my team, could you make sure she gets in with a pass allowing access to T-FAD?" He asked, and Jackie nodded.

"You got a name for the pass?" She asked, and as Jack started to say Candy, he realised that wasn't her name.

"Lieutenant Jones." He responded, and Jackie smiled.

"Oh! She complimented my glasses yesterday, she's lovely." Jackie commented offhand, writing down the details. "I'll pass this onto security, should have the pass ready in five. I'll make sure she'd gets it." Jackie assured, and Jack nodded in thanks, deciding to take the stairs up to his office.

As usual, he was the first in the room, and he headed into his office, the most recent updates on the Roland case stacked on his desk. He dropped his bag, started his laptop, and decided he needed to eat something to stay awake. He left the office, making his way down the hall way towards the floor's canteen, buying himself a coffee and pastry to start the day, wishing a good morning to the cashier Maureen. He took a seat by the window, and had a look through his phone, setting a reminder to call his dad that evening, chewing on his croissant. He had picked a good spot for people watching, scanning over the heads of the workforce coming in for another day. He could even pick out some of them: the balding one in a vest was Paul from IT, the redhead was Sharon from Logistics.

Once the coffee was gone and the croissant eaten, Jack got himself another drink and headed back to the office, smiling at a few team members who had come in, glad he had about an hour before briefing. He shut his office door, coffee in hand and took another sip before sitting down at his desk, logging into his secure email, attachments sent by Rogers regarding the interrogations. Written confessions in Arabic, and Jack printed them out immediately, thanking him for the work and adding the printouts to the stack.

Multiple emails and another coffee later, Jack had chased up confirmations on leads he wanted to follow, and taken a look at the current work in Syria Marcus had flagged up as potentially dangerous. While reading a message from Hawkins about next steps, a knock pulled him from his computer.

“Come in." He called, massaging his temple as he read. Candy slipped through the door, closing it behind her, standing silently as he finished what he was reading. Once he looked up and smiled, she smiled back.

"Morning Doctor."

"Lieutenant." He replied, standing from his desk and lifting the stack to the meeting table she stood beside. She had avoided a skirt, coming in wearing a pair of high-waisted fitted trousers with heels, her hair in a high bun and her white shirt a few buttons open. "The last 16 hours seem to have yielded results." He said, knowing it was an understatement, making sure to not look at her too much.

"Where do you want me working?" She asked, picking up the top file, reading from right to left.

"In here, if you don't mind. I have a few meetings today, so the office will be yours, more or less." He told her, and she nodded.

"You don't need me at the morning briefing or anything, do you?" She asked, and Jack shook his head.

"You're good. If you need me, text." He waved his phone, and having a glance at the time, he slipped out the office into the larger conference room, leaving Candy to her own devices.

—

After a morning of meetings, Jack came back after lunch to find his office had the blinds drawn. Opening the door, he found the lights dimmed as the interrogation footage played. Candy sat at the table, headphones on, no doubt playing the audio of the silent footage as she wrote notes. Jack flipped the light on, and Candy jumped out from her seat, quickly pausing the video.

"Sorry, sir." Candy muttered, rubbing her face quickly, adjusting to the sudden brightness. The room was covered with string connecting certain pieces of paper, sticky notes surrounding each mug shot acquired, the confessions provided by two of the men translated and highlighted. The whiteboard held primary questions, the big unknowns of the case.

"You've been busy." Jack complimented, walking through the room before sitting down. "Have you eaten today?" He asked, and Candy shook her head.

"Just about to head to lunch. Wanted to finish this footage but... I'll rewatch it once I've eaten." She decided. Jack nodded in agreement, scribbling something on a piece of scrap paper.

"I bumped into Mike, said he could see you at 2, have you sorted by 3." Jack added, and Candy smiled, getting up and heading off. It gave Jack a chance to evaluate her work without limitations, they both knew it.starting by the door, he followed the trail as Candy had, reading each individual lead she had flagged, surveying records on the men caught. Reading her highlighted sections of the confessions.

She's done a good job, though the three big questions remained, in black ink, on the white board:

1. Where is Roland?

2. What is the nature of weapons created?

3. Who is he selling to?

India and Pakistan had gotten back to them with varying degrees of compliance, Pakistan assuring them that their supplies hadn't been touched, and India confirming that suspicious activity had occurred, but actions had been taken to prevent the continuation of it. And with the taking of the transfer point, whatever future deliveries there were would be stopping or relocating, though it's not exactly easy to set up a new uranium dealer on such short notice.

There was the fear though, that perhaps that didn't matter, and whatever Roland had planned was already finalised. No need for more radioactive substance.

Some files on the laptop had been pulled up, regarding the current suspicious activity in Syria, the predicted next steps of ISIS, the alt-right movement in the US. Tab after tab on possible buyers, their recent movements, connections to Roland. It was like the entire thing should be open and shut, but there was something missing that kept everything separated.

—

Tags: @iwantthedean

#jack ryan #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #part eight #john krasinski #jack ryan x reader #reader #reader insert #romance #us army #army #tom clancy

23 notes · View notes

cheddar-the-dog · 4 years

Text

b99 the podcast episode 5:

ain‘t no heist like a halloween heist

@jake-and-ames and I have summarized what we think are the highlights of the fifth episode of the brooklyn nine-nine podcast. maybe those of you who can’t listen to the podcast for whatever reason can profit from it a bit

under the cut as usual

[[MORE]]

Part 1 with Melissa Fumero, David Phillips, Cortney Carrillo

they expected the heist episode to be a one-off thing but the reception was so good they decided to do more of these episodes

inspiration were Halloween episodes of different shows

eventually it was a given that there‘ll be a heist episode

there is a video of Mel geeking out because she‘s on a harness going through the ceiling in S1 like in Mission Impossible

there’s generally a lot of MI elements

the Halloween episodes are especially long shoots

shooting the Handmaiden scene in S5 took so long that Mel started texting with a friend and they did astrology charts of people and analyzed them together

initially in the 3rd halloween heist the woman opening the door on the 16th floor was supposed to be Kylie but the writers didnt feel it was right so they changed it

they didnt plan Terry hating heists to use that as a tactic later on but they realized in S5 that they could use it in S6

roman numerals are used for many things in the writer‘s room but they only stuck for the heist episodes

for one of the heists (sorry I didn’t catch which one) they tried emulating the Ocean‘s 11 score

when Holt explains the whole flutist thing there is a flute playing in the background

there’s a “Babysitter’s Club” theme when Amy and Rosa team up and there’s a few instances when Mel and Steph tried sneaking in the theme song

HalloVeen: the cold open is Mel‘s favorite

‘you’re being so mean do it harder’ was an alt-line and thats how that bit became a thing

the Jake/Amy dynamic in HalloVeen is a throwback to early Jake/Amy dynamics

Andy ripping Andre’s shirt open and vice versa was done in one take

where does Bill come from? the writers felt like they wrote themselves into a hole with Bill because they worried it wouldnt be funny or they wouldnt find an actor who could make it work

but they saw the actor for Bill walk into the audition room and they knew it would work with him, and he can imitate Joe very well

there were theories about next heist winners: Kevin or Cheddar

SPOILER: Scully‘s medical probems will be explored a bit more in S7

there weren’t a lot of people in the room when the proposal was filmed but a lot of production people came down before the filming, including Dan Goor - it made Mel realize that it‘s a meaningful moment and she says she wont forget how she felt

Andy came up with the “I love how you pretend to love Die Hard” line

they mention Andy‘s heart eyes and they talk about them and that one panel, when a girl in the audience asked him to look at her like that and she burst into tears immediately after

everyone loves how in the wedding what made Jake cry is Amy saying “your butt is the bomb“ and how he responded with “you’re my dream girl”

“Kevin and Holt should get their vows renewed” - MEJ

Part 2 with Alexis Jacks, Chris Call, Walter Eckert

property master is in charge of everything an actor touches and interacts with (watches, phones, computers, glasses, jewelry etc) not interior design in itself though

art director: overlooks the look of the show (sets, costumes, paint, architecture, design) makes sure it all gets done

set dressing and constructing: build sets and dresses it (sofas, tables, carpet etc)

costume department: 10 people (shoppers, continuity supervisors, fittings and dressers)

the characters have closets so the costumes can be reworn and give the characters and the show a “normal people” vibe

stuff gets changed mid-week and in the beginning people had to change a lot of things or scrap everything they compiled so far and start over so now they make drafts first because they expect changes mid-week before they start

if there’s bigger things that are needed the departments get a heads-up, also for calculations and adjustments

the B99-seamstress (they call her Monina so I’m assuming it’s Monina Arellano) is very low-key but a fast and impeccable worker and “a master” at what she does. she came to B99 after Parks ended

The Bullpen is a standing set (meaning it’s there the full year)

Shaw’s bar is a stage over but it gets taken down and sent away each season because they use that stage for different sets

The builders can construct and deconstruct stages in less than a day

a lot of props are get ordered online but many things are built from scratch

The cake in the cake shop was a prototype constructed of the Die Hard DVD Boxset (it comes in a Nakatomi tower) covered in fondant and a figurine scaling down on a string of licorice

the actual cake was never fully constructed, they built the shell of the broken tower in pieces, and laid them on the floor and then stuffed them with real cake

Gina’s statue was made of hard density foam and then spray painted

Cinco de Mayo Terry was spray painted and the clothing was color matched

Cummerbund: they created 2 belts with different inscriptions for HalloVeen

The belt in 6 was remade because they couldn’t find the original anymore

Terry wears suspenders because they wanted him to have a retro detective look and no jackets to show off his physique

Jake’s jeans are more often than not Andy’s own jeans

Holt wears either his uniform or navy suits to echo his work uniform

Rosa can run in her heeled boots but the show is not always accurate to actual work life and a real life detective would most likely not wear heeled boots to work

“Boyle is a Boyle” with tones of beige, butter and brown. the whole family wears it, even Nikolaj

Amy wore pant suits and now her uniform which is, like in reality, ill-fitting and when she’s out of work, Costumes try to put her in very casual clothing

the utility belts are super heavy so now it’s just foam and rubber. and there are belt keepers that snap the utility belt to the belt of your pants because otherwise you would have to strap it so tight that you cant move or it would pull all your clothing down with it (it carries a gun magazine, a baton, handcuffs, belt keepers, pepper spray, the Walkie-Talkie [case], a gloves pouch, taser etc)

the NYPD tasers are yellow but props went with black ones

props handle all real and fake weapons as long as they’re not automatic ones. then they’d have to bring in an Armor, a certified fire-arms specialist

they never used a real gun so far but air soft guns are used as the guns while shooting and gun shots are added in post

Props is also responsible for animals

there was a time when Props could go to a pet store and rent a hamster, shoot with it and bring it back now there’s an animal trainer for any animal you can think of

animal trainers have headshots of their animals as well and someone has to look at them and choose which animals they want to cast

#b99 #b99 the podcast #b99 podcast #brooklyn 99 podcast #brooklyn 99 the podcast #brooklyn nine nine the podcast #brooklyn nine nine podcast #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn 99

10 notes · View notes

copper-wasp · 5 years

Text

Prompto x Reader: Kisses (Part 11/?)

Title: Glasses (Alt. Version)

Rating: T

Words: 1,733

Posted to AO3!

You perked up as soon as you saw Prompto coming towards you. You had already purchased his favorite boba, mango, and you had pushed it over to him as he plopped down on the bench next to you, setting his laptop on the table.

You hadn’t gotten a proper look at him, but once he sat down with sigh, you glanced over, having to do a double take when you saw he was wearing glasses. Tortoiseshell frames, cute rounded rectangles that fit his face perfectly, and you watched with rapt attention as Prompto raised his pointer finger to push them up his nose. You shook your head to clear away the glasses-induced fog, tapping the lid of his drink with the end of your pen.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you said, chewing on a tapioca pearl. “Rough day already? You know it’s only 10 am, right?” you joked, seeing him crack a smile at you.

“Yeah... I know,” he replied, opening the lid to his computer and jiggling his fingertips on the trackpad to wake it up. He took a big drag on the straw of his drink, mouth curving into a smile at the taste. “Thanks for that,” he remarked, looking at you full on for the first time.

You couldn’t get over him wearing glasses. You knew he wore contacts normally, but you’d just never even thought about what he looked like with glasses on instead.

You felt heat rush into your face, and you cleared your throat, trying to focus on the passage you were reading, highlighter poised over the printed text.

“You okay?” Prom asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah, I’m super entirely fine,” you replied with a grin. He matched yours, and the combination of his killer smile and those glasses of his was almost enough to knock you out cold with cuteness.

He groaned, pulling up the syllabus to one of his courses. “I never thought taking a photo class would require so much writing,” he lamented, resting his head on his hand.

“Well, they can’t let you have too much fun, right?” you replied, dragging a fluorescent pink line across your textbook. He snorted, popping the lens cover off his camera.

“Hey, look over here for a sec?” he said, but you didn’t budge.

“No way, Prom, find a more willing model,” you commented, turning the page.

“Ahhh come on, please? You’re my favorite model,” he whined, lining up the shot anyway.

You rolled your eyes, closing the book around your highlighter to keep your page. “Fine, but only if I get to take one of you next.”

“That’s a deal I’m willing to make,” he replied cheerfully.

You turned your head to look at him, letting him frame the shot. He gave you a couple directions, tilt your head this way, eyes over there, pull your hair out from behind your ear, and you followed them all. After a minute or so, you heard the click of the shutter, and Prom pulled the picture up on the screen on the back of the camera. “Looks good, don’t you think?” he asked, showing you the photo. You thought you looked like a potato, per usual, but Prompto seemed pleased, so you nodded, giving him a smile.

“My turn, right?” you reminded him, and he handed over the camera. “Okay, first close your laptop. Now put your elbow on the table and make a fist. Other elbow, silly,” you said with a laugh. Prompto moved to take off his glasses, but you stopped him.

“No, Prom, leave those on!” you said, lowering the camera to look at him.

“How come?”

“Because... you look really... cute with them on,” you said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear. He gave you a crooked smile and pushed the frames back up his nose.

“I dunno, I think I look like a nerd,” he replied.

“Oh, no way, Prom,” you said a little too enthusiastically, clearing your throat to try to distract from your red cheeks. “Okay, okay, now rest your cheek on your hand,” you quickly diverted, setting him up the way you wanted for the photo. “Hmm, I want to try something.... Don’t look at the camera until I say, okay? And even though it pains me to say it, don’t smile either,” you added, trying not to grin yourself.

“Okay, I got it,” he replied, looking longingly at his melting boba. You were being a little excessive, but you wanted to get the perfect shot of your blonde friend.

“Okay, on three. One... two...” you pulled the viewfinder up to your eye, manually focusing. “Three!” Prompto looked up as you had instructed, blue eyes bright and lovely in the morning sun. You frowned at the photo when you brought it up, but not because it was bad, rather because of how good the subject looked in it. Prompto was disturbingly cute, his freckles sticking out like confetti on his cheeks, shock of blonde hair stirred perfectly by the gentle breeze, the little glare on his lenses not detracting at all from his ocean-colored eyes, practically staring into your soul through the camera screen.

You turned it to show him when he scooted closer to you. He gave you a smile, pleased with the photo. “Maybe you should be the photography major,” he joked, placing the camera on the table.

“Nah, I’ll stick to my books and research papers,” you replied. Checking your watch, you had just about ten minutes to get to your next class, so you packed up your things. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, see you!” he replied, saluting you with his boba. He bit his lip to hide his smile after you had left. “Did she really...? Say I was cute?” he mumbled to himself, pulling up the picture he had taken of you. There was just a hint of a smile on your lips, eyes looking just past the camera, and he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss those lips, and have your eyes trained only on him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Noctis looked concernedly at his friend over the pizza they were sharing.

“Prompto?” he asked, dropping his crust onto his plate.

“Yeah?” Prom replied, trying to wrangle the clump of cheese that was falling off of his slice.

“You’ve been wearing your glasses for like, a week straight. Did you run out of contacts or something?” Noctis asked, pulling another slice in his direction.

Prompto looked at him guiltily, shoving his pizza in his mouth. After a long moment of chewing, and seeing that Noct was still looking at him expectantly, he sighed. “Well... um, [Y/N] may have said that... she, uh, thinks I look cute with them on,” he explained sheepishly, not looking at him.

Noctis was trying not to be an ass, but the smirk on his face betrayed his intentions. “Oh, so the girl you’ve had a crush on for months says you look good, and you don’t ask her out, you just keep wearing your glasses?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” the blonde replied with a hopeless lilt.

“Just ask her out, she’s obviously into you,” Noct said, pulling all the cheese off of his slice to shove into his mouth.

“You forget that I’m a train wreck around girls.”

Noctis scoffed, "You are not. You just let your nerves get to you."

Prompto shrugged in response, opening and closing his mouth a few times, any rebuttal refusing to come.

"Well," Noctis continued, pausing to swallow a large bite of pizza, "If you won't ask her out, maybe I will. She's cute, and I can get some of those non-prescription glasses to wear...."

Prompto's head whipped around to glare at his friend. Noctis was refusing to look at him, just giving bedroom eyes to his slice, hoping this would give his friend the little push he needed.

"Don't even think about it," Prompto finally replied, angrily tearing another slice from the pie.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Would you... maybe want to go for a walk?” Prompto asked you the next afternoon, closing the book he was pretending to read.

You nodded with a relieved sigh. “I was hoping you’d distract me,” you replied, closing the lid on your laptop and sliding it into your backpack. “Where do you wanna go?”

Prom smiled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Maybe the park on 14th?”

“Sounds good!”

You started walking towards the park, but Prompto was getting a lot of attention on the way.

“Hey Prom, nice glasses!” Noctis yelled as he skated by on his longboard.

“Uh... th-thanks?!” he replied as his dark haired friend laughed.

A block later and the two of you ran into Gladio - you hadn’t spent much time with him, but he pulled you into a bear hug nonetheless, picking you about 6 inches off the ground in the process.

“Hey short stuff, look at how cute you look with those,” he teased, poking at the frame with his meaty fingertips.

“Hey, cut it out!” Prompto said, swatting his hand away, and you couldn’t stifle your laugh. Prom’s cheeks were a brilliant red, and you really wanted to reach out and touch them.

You kept walking, Prom’s face slowly regaining its normal color, when you spotted Ignis standing on a corner, furiously scribbling in a notebook.

“Hey, Iggy,” you greeted, peering over to try to get a glance at what he was writing. He snapped his book shut, not letting you see.

“Sorry, it’s a secret for now,” he said, tucking it into his backpack. He glanced over at Prompto, who gave a pathetic wave. “Hmm... Noctis was right, those are cute on you,” he added with a sly smile, adjusting his own glasses.

Prom gave a withering look, grabbing your hand and pulling you past Iggy. You gave him a wave goodbye as Prompto dragged you towards the park, pink sitting high on his cheekbones once again.

“Hey, Prom, stop! Hold on a minute,” you said, dragging your feet to get him to slow down as you entered the park.

He didn’t seem to want to look at you, but he was still holding your hand. You gave it a gentle squeeze, Prom finally tilting his head to catch your eye. “They were just joking, right?” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah... I know, I just-“ he paused, turning to face you. He took a deep breath, a little tinge of embarrassment in his ocean eyes. “Well, you said you liked how I looked with my glasses and I kind of haven’t taken them off since then and they’ve been on my case about me not asking you... um,” he paused, grabbing your other hand.

You smiled at him reassuringly, taking a step closer to him. “It’s okay, Prom. I think I know what you want to ask.” Now it was your turn to be nervous, and you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “I’d really like to go on a date with you,” you said quietly. “And you do look so cute with those glasses on.”

He gave you a winning smile, his embarrassment melting away, and you pressed yourself against him in an embrace. You tried to pull away, but he kept you close, giving you a serious look.

He nuzzled his nose against yours and your lips parted in surprise. He bit his bottom lip, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten. Your eyes fluttered shut when you felt his lips touch yours, giving you a sweet, soft kiss.

You laughed against his lips, “I think we’re supposed to go on the date first, Prom.”

“Ah, sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” he replied, biting his lip. He was silent for a few minutes, eyes flicking up and down from your own to your lips. "Would you mind if I did it again?" he asked with a shy smile, and you shook your head. He kissed you again, a little more heated this time, like he was memorizing the feel of your lips on his.

You playfully pushed him away, grabbing his hand again and lacing your fingers with his. “Well, come on, stud, you promised me a walk in the park,” you teased, pulling him along behind you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading!!

Find me on:

AO3: copper_wasp

Twitter: copper_wasp_

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #prompto #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #kisses series #copper-wasp #copper-wasp writes

11 notes · View notes

rhabakoli · 5 years

Text

Infinite White - 8

The text Fenja translates is the letter Gandalf writes about Aragorn (i think to Frodo? not sure rn), per @finnickfoxes request. And since I am a true dumbass, I actually translated it myself, instead of just look it up. But I like my version better anyway.

Previous chapters here.

Trigger warning: space talk. Anyone disagreeing with me will be blocked.

Taglist:@dreamwritesimagines @i-am-always-famished @marauderskeeper @superwolfchild-fan @thescarsweleave @cgn-99 @alicedopey @alwaysadreamingoptimist @atlas-of-the-world @finnickfoxes @rmwest9 (i’m just gonna tag u now, scream if you don’t want to)

“So, how’s his family? Did they suspect anything?”, Maeve asked. They were carrying their trays to their usual table, finally catching up with each others lifes.

“They are nice. A bit touchy. His uncle asked me if I know UNO, and then he kinda… welcomed me to the family?”, Fenja answered and then shrugged.

“They have quite a low standard to meet. They’d love you.” Maeve gave her a sour look, kicking at her. “You’re lucky my hands are full.” Her friend just grinned cheekily and dodged her half-assed attack. The mensa was filled with chatter, the sounds of dishes clattering and the occasional discussion escalating. “And did they say anything about your breakdown?” Maeve sat across her, cracking open her coke and taking a sip. “No, I don’t think they know.” Fenja halted, then looked up at her roommate. “Well, I think his mom might know. But she didn’t say anything.” Mave nodded and took a bite from her lunch. “That’s good, isn’t it?” Fenja shrugged, gaze focused on her plate. “As long as I don’t have to explain it to everyone, I’m fine.” “I think your man will be glad to do it for you, if you asked.” Fenja carefully tasted her soup, trying not to burn her tongue. Then, as she processed the words, she raised an eyebrow at Maeve. “Who?” “Ragnar.” “Ah.” She smacked her lips together, blissed out expression on her face. “Goddamn, that soup is delicious.” Suddenly, her spoon came up, pointing across the table, almost threatening. “Also, he’s not ‘my man’, where even did you get that from?” “He’s not?” “Nah.” Maeve shrugged, then ogled the bread on Fenja’s tray. “Can I have some?”

The lecture hall was packed, every single seat taken. Some poor souls were even sitting on the stairs, eager to listen in and maybe find some validation, and inspiration - who are we kidding, mainly they just wanted to hear that it would be worth it all and it’d get better. Fenja was sitting all the way up, last row, glad to even have found a seat. Half the literature department was here, some journalism majors too. “I heard she’s only doing this, because her husband is a Ragnarsson. Otherwise she’d never have gotten the spot.” Fenja scoffed, as she pulled out pen and paper, ready to take notes. Unfortunately, her neighbours heard her and turned. “You have something to say, honey?” Her eyes grew round, she twisted in her seat and shook her head. “No, sorry, I just misheard. I thought you said she only got the lecture because her husband’s a Ragnasson.” “Well, I did.” The guy leaned his forearm onto the back of his seat, his body angled towards her, chest puffed like a bird ready to dance. His friend mirrored him, twirling her thick long hair around her finger, smirking. “Which doesn’t make sense, to be honest. She’s been holding lectures and seminars even before she’d met him, so implying she’d need the help of a rich man is not only wrong, but also degrading to her, her achievements and other authors and writers that have made it by themselves.” He wanted to throw another comment in, probably just as entitled and ignorant as his first, when Fenja raised a hand to stop him. “I’m not interested in fumbled comebacks dragged from your misogynistic fathers mouth, so, let’s leave it be, yes?” “Listen, bitch-” “You better think of a new beginning for that sentence, because I can promise you this is not going to end well for you. I know for a fact that the dean is quite the feminist, and he does not tolerate such behaviour at all. I’d pull my head out of my bum, if I were you, because your view on the world is growing a bit old, don’t you think?” He opened and closed his mouth, looked like a fish on the dry, skin flushing. His friend was looking on with big eyes, absolutely shocked anyone would talk to him like that. “You will regret this-” He finally found his voice, anger radiating off him. Fenja sighed. “Listen, you educationally handicapped amoeba. I am not going to regret this, even if it gets me into trouble. Because I know for a fact, while I will have to sit through a serious conversation on properly handling my anger, you’ll have to face an angry dean about the way you view women and I bet you’ll get to go to a couple very educating lectures, which I doubt you’ll get credit for.” They now had enough, they were storming off, the girl tutting over him, while he almost rammed into Ragnar, who took a step to the side and watched them go. “Hey.” He gestured over his shoulder, into the direction the two asshats were fleeing. “What was that?” Fenja shrugged and sat properly, facing forward. Some of the professors were gathered by the podium, talking. She tried to get a good view, but a rather tall professor was in the way. Wait. She knew that back from somewhere. Also, that manbun beat her in UNO just last week. Ragnar sat next to her, typing away on his phone, when she poked him violently. He really felt that, even through the fluffy sweater he wore. Gods, did she have pointy fingers. He hastily grabbed her wrist, holding it so she couldn’t attack him again. “What?” “Is that your Uncle?” He followed her line of sight, chuckling. “Yep.” “What’s he doing here?” “He’s teaching, princess. He’s specialized on Viking history and Nordic religions.” He laughed at her face. Her mouth stood open, eyebrows raised and her breath left her with a silent “oh.” “By the way. Auntie asked me to tell you, that she’s in town all week, and I am supposed to drag you to dinner, so you can meet her.” Now, that really got her attention. “What?” She pointed down to the podium, where a small, dainty woman assumed position and straightened her papers. “You mean that auntie? The amazing, famous author/Journalist?” “Yep.” He’d really get himself bitch-slapped one day, if he continued to play down such important, impactful events. Fenja flailed in her seat, almost falling out of it. “You can’t just - what, I -” Ragnar caught her arm, pulling her back up like it was nothing. “Calm down. How about dinner this friday. Whole family will be there.” “Is that supposed to help me? In any way?”, she asked, her tone suggesting how it definitely did not help. “Bear too.” He grinned at her, chuckling at the speed at which her expression - her whole demeanor, really - shifted. “Okay.”

Down at the podium, Gala cleared her throat and welcomed them, introduced herself and explained why she was holding his lecture. Ragnar knew all of this, he had only come up here to deliver his aunts message. But Fenja was so cute, all attentive, eager to soak up whatever knowledge his aunt decided to share. How she sat there, focused, scribbling down notes and questions for later. She did it on seperate sheets, organized and thought-out. He watched her profile, let his eyes roam over her figure, how she was wrapped into a hoodie at least two sizes too big, how she had a foot up on the seat, and an arm wrapped around her knee, leaning into it. How she ran the flat of her thumb’s nail over her lower lip, - left, right, left again - lips slightly parted. He licked his lips, swallowing and then promptly snapped himself out of it. Shaking his head over his creepy staring and suddenly, uh… not-friendly mood, he turned to watch Gala talk about the struggles of writing, writer’s block and solutions that helped in her experience. The lecture took about an hour, with a Q&A session added. Here too, Fenja listened closely, checking questions already answered and noting them down. Ragnar caught himself staring again. He always had felt the need to kinda protect her, keep her close, in his arms, but- oh boy. Oooooh. He leaned back against the chair, crossed his arms and stubbornly stared ahead, until his aunt excused them and everyone was leaving. He’d have to talk to someone about this. Crap. Someone help him. He must have made a sound, because Fenja looked over, concern on her face. “Is everything okay?” “Yeah, I’m good.”

** “Okay, so, I’ve got some examples I need you to translate, please.” Ingrid laid down papers in front of Fenja and sat. “We’re gonna implement this in the program, we need to get clear on pronunciation and grammar and stuff.” Fenja looked down at the paper, then back at Ingrid. “That’s your example?” “Yep.” This whole family, for real. “Uh, you’re not gonna get accurate, actually used German that way, right?” It’s from Lord Of The Rings. The hell. “It’s not about that, it’s just an example, a start. It’s about the words, not what it means in context.” She nodded, then held her hand out for a pen. “You want me to do it on paper?”” Now it was Ingrids turn to shrug. “However you’d like, doesn’t make a big difference.”

It didn’t take Fenja too long to translate it, even when using old German, plush and polished words, to keep the feeling of the original. She caught Ingrid’s attention, as she put her pen down and leaned back in her chair. They were seated in the Ragnarsson library, spread all over the place with school stuff, research, Fenja’s papers for her essays and Ingrid’s paperwork for the Linguae Populi. “You wanna read it?”, the girl asked, and promptly put her chin into her hands, abandoning her work. “Sure.” Fenja cleared her throat and took a deep breath. In a sure, but soft tone, she read aloud:

“Nicht alles das Gold, funkelt; Nicht alle die wandern, verloren; Alt und stark nicht verdunkelt; Wurzeln in Tiefe nicht erfroren; Feuer aus Asche entsteht, wie Licht entspringt dem Schatten; Soll zerbarste Klinge nun heilen, Krone wieder auf Königs Haupte weilen.”

Fenja felt slightly uncomfortable under Ingrid's attentive gaze; she raked her fingers through her hair and looked down at the paper. “It's probably not perfect, and certainly not even close to the original translation, but I tried.” The girl stopped her immediately, waving a hand through the air and shaking her head adamantly. “no I'm sure it's absolutely fine.” “Sounded fine to me.”, Came from the door. “Dad!” Ingrid uncurled her legs, bound over to her father like a puppy and dove into his arms for a big old hug. “I didn't know you'd be home today! I thought you had a work trip to Ontario?” Ivar stroked his daughter's head as he looked down at her. “I sent your Uncle instead. Gala has some business there, so he'd have gone there anyway.” Piercing blue eyes fixed Fenja ij her seat, while Ingrid took her fathers free arm and pulled him over. “You speak german?” Fenja nodded, intimidated and shy. “My family came over during the war, and they never let anyone lose touch to their roots. They expect you to be fluent in german.” Ingrid pulled the paper with the translation over and showed him. “That's from Lord of the rings. She's a nerd.” “Then you must like her, no? Two peas in a pod?” He grinned playfully, his calm exterior and the way he bantered with his kid, put her at ease. He wasn't bad, in any way. He was just so… tall, and broad, and had this very hard and cold aura, if he wanted to. They talked for a while. Ivar asked her more about her family, if they came before the war, or if they lived through the harsh times there. Fenja tried to answer, even taught him a couple of words and phrases when he asked for it. Turns out, the big bad Ivar Ragnarsson was a very curious and eager-to-please puppy dog. Now it was obvious, where this part of Ragnar came from. Those two were so much alike.

Ragnar was minding his own business, concentrating on his work, as a body fell into the spot next to his and a phone was shoved into his face. “LOOK AT THIS!” He did. “What am I looking at?” Fenja grinned, eyes alight with excitement, her whole body vibrating with restless energy. “That's a photograph of a black hole!” She sounded so proud, you'd think she made it. Without having to prompt her, she started into an extended rant, explaining how and when, how big it was (very), and how she really wanted to go visit it (so damn much), and how it looked like Sauron’s eye (It really did, wow), and ‘what if there is some kind of alternate universe where hobbits exist and the black hole is actually a way to go there, or to look into other universes?!’ “You want to visit a black hole.” “Yep.” “You think it’s a way to an alternate Hobbit universe?” “Yep.” Ragnars eyes were skipping over her face, taking in the scrunched nose as she smiled, the tousled hair from her run over, the healthy color of her face, the twinkle in her eyes. She was so cute, this excited. So open, so warm. It was a glimpse of how she could have been, if her parents had survived; she'd be way less inclined to shut others out. He also noticed how close she was. Her arm was wrapped around his biceps, her front pressed into his side as she leaned against him, essentially hugging his arm, while she was still holding the phone up, her elbow on the desk in front of him, his forearm trapped under hers. “You’re crazy.”, he shook his head. “That’s my best personality trait, that are you talking about?” “But I’m coming with you. No way you’re gonna survive there. Either you’ll eat yourself to death, or you set one foot there and collide with some monster.” “It’s settled then.” She let go of his arm, laid her own arms and head on the table, face towards him. “Now the only things left are contact with aliens and society’s realization regarding Pluto’s wrong degradation from planet status.” Ragnar knew better than to dive into that discussion. She was very passionate about space. Instead, he plucked a hair hanging from her lashes. “But what if there are no aliens?” Okay, he was weak. Don’t judge. Fenja groaned, but didn’t move much. “People who honestly believe that we are the only ones out there, are either very stupid, ignorant, or just plain scared. I can respect scared cucumbers, because that means on some level at least they agree that we can’t be alone, that’s just not logical.”

They fell into a comfortable pattern, Fenja ranting, Ragnar working. Sometimes it was the other way around, sometimes it was almost completely silent between the two of them. It was like a bubble, a safe haven on campus. Other students usually tended to avoid the two of them, because rants could happen just about any time, and those two got really passionate, including flailing arms and sometimes even thrown pens. So, their table was a corner-table, but other than them, there were no others in close vicinity.

No one wanted to be part of… whatever they had.

Part 9

#Infinite White #IW #foh #faint of heart AU #slow burn #Ivars kids #vikings

22 notes · View notes

ponyregrets · 7 years

Note

Clarke POV for Exiles Among Us?

fun fact whenever I get alt pov requests I try to alternate between doing bellamy and clarke (actually I always try to alternate between bellamy and clarke pov) but I get like five bellamy requests for every one clarke request so sometimes I dig to find clarke ones

well also I remembered I wanted to do this but it is kind of hilarious how unbalanced it is, rock on, bellamy povs

Original series here, and alt pov on AO3!

One of Clarke's dad's favorite stories about her childhood comes from when she was in kindergarten, and the teacher had everyone in the class write and illustrate short books called In the Future. As with most kindergarten activities, it was mostly just a lot of messy writing and incomprehensible drawings, but the teacher had at some point started prompting her because she wasn't coming up with ideas of her own and was just drawing pictures of dogs.

Her father hadn't been there, but the way he tells it, based on Clarke's and the teacher's accounts, was that the teacher first asked Clarke if she thought she'd be married.

"Yes," said Clarke. "I'm going to marry Ariel from The Little Mermaid."

To her credit, the teacher took this in strike. "And will you live on a ship? In a house? On the beach."

Clarke scribbled a lot of blue on the page. "Under the sea. We're going to live with Flounder."

"And how many children will you have?"

It didn't rankle her back then, not yet, but it started to around high school, when her father told her about it. The casual assumption that children were a given.

But in kindergarten, it just seemed straightforward. "We won't have any. Just dolphins."

"No children?" the teacher asked.

"Nope. Dolphins. And fish. Dolphins aren't fish," she'd apparently added. "They're mammals."

"Yes, they are," said the teacher. "But wouldn't it be nice to have a baby?"

Even now, Clarke doesn't understand this impulse people have. She doesn't get why anyone would start a fight with a thirty-year-old about how many children they want, let alone a kindergartner. But apparently that was what bothered her teacher. Not that she was going to marry a fictional character and live under the ocean with dolphins, just that she wouldn't have a human baby with her when she did it.

"No," she said.

"All girls want babies," said a boy sitting next to her, which had been the real trouble. The teacher would have, she assumes, moved on at some point. But other students could be fought.

Which was what ended up happening, Clarke and the boy in a tangle of limbs, Clarke insisting she was never, ever going to have a baby. Ever. Which she continued to do the next day too, as her parents talked to the principal about how violence was not an acceptable way to solve her problems.

She doesn't think she really committed to not having children just because of one kindergarten experience, but it is proof that she's never quite gotten the appeal. And the more people assumed children would just be a natural part of her future, the more obstinate she became about it. If her partner wanted them, she was open to the idea. Ready to negotiate.

But left to her own devices, she's never been interested in children, for their own sake. They don't inherently do anything for her.

And then she falls in love with Bellamy Blake.

Even before he gets Octavia, it's obvious that Bellamy loves kids. It's something Clarke assumed would be basically standard, when she started teaching high school, an actual source of stress for her. She likes teaching without having changed her general opinion on motherhood, and she didn't want to feel isolated because of it.

As it turned out, maternal instincts weren't any more of an expectation with teachers than they were with anyone else. So, as usual, her eventual motherhood is taken for granted, and when she protests, she's told she'll change her mind. The only real difference is that when people say she seems so good with children, they have actual grounding beyond the fact that she's female. But Clarke knows how different it is, being a teacher than being a parent, and just because she's good at the first, it doesn't mean she has any interest in the second.

Bellamy's there, once, when Dr. Peters asks her about it, and when Clarke says she's not planning to have any, he says, "Yeah, it's not for everyone," and changes the subject before Dr. Peters can push.

Which isn't, of course, why she falls in love with him, but it is one of the thousand things. Another in the long line of reasons he's her favorite person.

It's a few months after that when he texts and asks if he can come get drunk, and that's when she finds out about his sister.

"I just don't know what to do," he says, sounding lost. "I've tried--fuck, Clarke. I've tried everything. And nothing works, and I just--" He cuts himself off with harsh noise that sounds a lot like a sob. It's alarming for a lot of reasons, not least because she has absolutely no idea what's happening. So she shifts closer, pressing her leg against his, bumping his shoulder.

"If you told me what you were talking about, I might be able to offer some advice."

"My sister," he says. "My responsibility."

Clarke had heard about Octavia before this, of course. She knows that she liked to draw when she was a kid, that Bellamy had to trick her into eating broccoli by telling her that eating something that looked like a tree would make it easier to climb them. She knows he loves his sister with a fierceness that sometimes makes her feel small and alone.

And she knows that she makes him sad, but she doesn't know why.

"What happened?" she asks. "You're drunk, so I can ask now, right? If you come over to get drunk on my couch, I get to ask you uncomfortable questions about your family."

"I left her." His voice is desolate, and he's staring down at his hands as if they're unfamiliar, as if he doesn't recognize or control them. "I didn't want to, but--my father wanted custody of me, and my mother didn't want to fight for it, so I left with him, and I never saw her again. I don't--fuck. I don't know how to find her. My mom won't talk to me, I don't even know what school she's in now, they might not even be in Baltimore anymore." He scrubs his hand over his face, wiping away tears, and Clarke wraps her arms around him and tries to understand, even though it's unfathomable to her.

"How long has it been?" she asks, and that makes him smile.

"That's what you care about?"

His voice is teasing, so she smiles. "I can't help unless I have a full grasp of the situation, Bellamy."

"I was fourteen," he says. "She was six."

"You didn't leave her." He huffs out a bitter laugh, and she squeezes him again, moving closer. "You didn't. You were taken away, okay? You were a kid, and you had to leave. You don't have to blame yourself for that. You couldn't help it."

"It's been eight years, and I haven't found her. I haven't even talked to her." He rubs his face. "What if I never see her again?"

"You will," says Clarke, and his laugh is only a little strained.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Her name is Octavia Blake, come on. You only have so long to wait before you just hit her on a google search."

He laughs again, rests his cheek on her hair. "You're the weirdest kind of comforting, you know that?"

"You're the one who called me," she retorts. "So clearly weird comforting was what you were looking for."

"It was." She can feel his breathing slowing, calming, and she matches her own to it, the two of them just resting on each other for a long minute. "I emailed my mom," he finally says. "I just--I laid everything out. Wells moved out, so I have a nice place with an empty room, a job that pays enough to support me and someone else, some savings in the bank, so--I asked if she'd give me O. I thought--fuck, she just gave me up without a fight, why wouldn't she get rid of another teenager when she got the chance?"

"Bellamy--"

"I know, that's unfair."

"That's not what I was gonna say."

"No?"

"I was going to say I'm sorry." She rubs her hand up and down his side, slow, easy comfort. "What did she say?"

"Nothing. I've emailed her every break I've had since I started college, and she's never fucking replied. I don't know why I thought this time would be different. I don't even know if that email still works, or if she forgot the password, or--"

It's almost too big for Clarke to really think about. She and Bellamy are about the same age, twenty-four, and while it's in some ways easier to think about having a teenager than having a baby, because she deals with teenagers all the time, she still can't really wrap her brain around adopting one. Not only adopting one, but fighting for one, spending years trying to reconnect, to get in touch, to reclaim this one girl.

His sister.

"I promise, you are going to be able to google her," she says, and he laughs.

"Yeah, I probably am." He lets out a long breath. "You want to put on Netflix?"

"Whatever you want, yeah."

"Not quite whatever I want," he says, and she rubs her hand through his hair, gentle.

"Whatever I can do," she corrects, and means it.

"This is good," he he says, settling in closer.

She fumbles a little getting the remote, a little overwhelmed just hearing what it's like for him. She can't imagine feeling how Bellamy does about his sister. But at the same time, she understands some parallel version of it, because she can't imagine feeling the way she does about him and being anywhere but by his side, no matter what.

It's a staggering thought, to feel like you belong with someone. But Clarke has never been more certain.

"I thought if I asked if you had pads in front of him, he might actually di--" Clarke cuts herself off, glancing down at the girl next to her and swallowing hard.

It never occurred to her how often she casually references death in conversation, not until she was absolutely terrified of fucking up with Octavia Blake.

So far, she thinks the whole thing is going as well as can be expected. Bellamy seems trapped somewhere between joy and terror, which she saw coming, and Octavia is quiet and wary, but it's impossible for Clarke to believe it's not going to work out for them. Bellamy loves his sister so much, and if Octavia doesn't understand that yet, Clarke is sure she will. It's just so obvious. Now that they're together, it's going to work out. It has to.

So she clears her throat, corrects to, "Pass out," and offers Octavia a somewhat sheepish smile.

Octavia looks like she's trying not to smile herself. She's a lovely girl, her skin paler than her brother's, her face less freckled, eyes lighter. Clarke's brains settles on those differences, can't help it, and wonders how, with all of those, she still manages to look so much like Bellamy.

"Yeah, probably," she agrees, worrying her lip. "Do you think if we brought some back, he'd still pass out?"

"Fifty-fifty," she says, although she's doesn't really think it's true. He's going to be fine.

But making fun of Bellamy is the easy part of this for her. If all she ever had to do with Octavia was tease Bellamy, she'd be in great shape. It's what Raven will probably do, and Bellamy will be happy with that.

It's not enough, though. Octavia is the most important person in Bellamy's world, and he wants her to be happy. Which means Clarke wants her to be happy too. She doesn't want to be a mother, but--she doesn't have to be a mother. She just needs to be there.

There are other ways to be a family.

"Look, I know you don't know me," she says, awkward, as she and Octavia stare at the bright rows of shampoo together. Even when she speaks, Octavia doesn't look up, which is appreciated. It's easier to talk to her without eye contact. "But--if you need anything, you can ask. Anything you can't talk to Bellamy about, or--just absolutely anything at all. I'll give you my number. You can call any time."

Clarke doesn't know her well enough to read her tone when she asks, "Really?"

"He loves you, and he's my best friend. So yeah. Any time."

"Your best friend?"

The dubiousness in that question is unmistakable, but Clarke makes her reply light. "Sad but true."

Octavia worries her lip, letting her fingers skate over a bottle of Pert Plus. Clarke knows what's coming before she says it, and Octavia doesn't disappoint. "I thought you guys were, um. I thought you were his girlfriend."

It's far from the first time someone's assumed that, but Clarke would have assumed that whatever explanation Bellamy gave of her would have included the term best friend. On the other hand, he's been basically a mess since his mother died and he found out he was getting his sister, so it might have slipped his mind to clarify. He might have just called her Clarke with absolutely no qualifiers.

It's easy slack to pick up. "Oh, no," she says, smiling. "Not his girlfriend." Octavia looks dubious, and she feels a flush climbing up her neck. It's tempting to add something else, to try to explain, but protestations will just seem even more suspicious, so she forces herself move on. "Seriously, pads? Tampons? Awkward stuff that Bellamy won't be able to look at?"

Octavia's smiling a little, faint and slightly vague, and Clarke has to stop herself from reaching out, like she would if it were Bellamy. "Not right now. But I might ask you to take me later. Just so Bellamy doesn't have to deal with it," she adds quickly.

"Like I said, any time."

She nods once, decisive. "If we don't bring anything back, he's going to worry," she says. "I should get something."

"But not pads," says Clarke. "Or he'll probably faint. What kind of shampoo do you use? We can pick up some of that, and he'll feel better. He just wants to make sure you're comfortable," she can't help adding.

"I know." Her voice is harsh, but this part Clarke does understand. It's easy for her to think about all the time Bellamy lost; since that drunken night, he's told her a good deal about what it was like for him, these last eight years, what he went through. And through that, she got some ideas about what it would have been like for Octavia too, what it would have been like growing up without someone there for her.

"Yeah, it sounds kind of fake to me too," she tells Octavia. "But you can never have too much shampoo."

Bellamy's still in line when they get back, leaning against the cart, looking like he is putting every single ounce of focus and concentration he has into looking relaxed. Which is, of course, completely ineffective, but also incredibly endearing.

Someday soon, having his sister around is just going to be good for him, and Clarke can't wait. Even with all his odd tension, he looks better, more sure of himself. Happier. Like he's regained something she didn't realize he was missing.

Or maybe she's just romanticizing it. That's a possibility too.

"Shampoo," she tells him, bumping her hip against his. "And conditioner."

"Oh right, girls want both of those," he says. "I still don't know the difference. Why does your hair need conditioning?"

"Because beauty standards are a thing. Don't judge, Bellamy."

"If I'm not judging, I don't have anything else to do. You sure you're good, Octavia?" he adds, turning his attention to his sister. "We probably have time before we get to the checkout."

Octavia rolls her eyes, looking exactly like a petulant teenager for the first time since Clarke has met her. It feels like a good sign, that she's already comfortable enough with him to fall into those unconscious patterns. "Are we never going to get to go to the store again?" she asks. "Do we have to get everything I'm ever going to need right now?"

"Everything you want for the next twenty-four hours," he says, but back of almost immediately. "I mean, we're going to the grocery store tomorrow, so--"

"I want a candy bar," says Clarke, reaching over to grab some peanut butter cups. "Octavia, do you want a candy bar?"

Octavia's mouth tugs up a little. "Can I get M&Ms?"

"Not a bar, but I think I can allow it. Bellamy?"

His own smile is soft, grateful. "Get me a Butterfingers, thanks."

She puts the candy on the conveyor belt, and Bellamy pays for everything without any apparent worry about the total. She's already got a reminder in her phone to ask him about money next week, so she doesn't mention it either. It's not a conversation to have in front of Octavia, anyway.

Clarke helps him with the bags, and Octavia lags behind a little. It's understandable, but so is Bellamy's tension, so she says, "So, dinner. What are we having? You're taking us somewhere nice, right?"

"I don't have to," he says, and seems to only realize how it sounds when she raises her eyebrows. "I mean, uh--you can just go home."

"I still like hanging out with you," she reminds him. "Really, Bellamy. I'm having fun. I want to come."

He clears his throat. "Thanks, though. Really."

"Always," she says, and means it. "But seriously, I want a nice dinner."

"I already got you a candy bar." There's less strain around his eyes already, so she must be doing something right. "Don't be greedy, Clarke."

The thing about being an actual parent is that there's usually some kind of preparation period, from what Clarke understands. Even if whatever kid you end up with isn't the result of a planned pregnancy, there's usually some sort of thought or discussion: the decision not to terminate, the decision to foster, the decision to accept some kid into your life.

Clarke knew that Bellamy's mind was always made up, but she hadn't ever thought about his mother dying and his sister coming to him, so she hadn't put much thought into what actual effect Octavia would have on her.

Which, obviously, it's not about her, and she'd feel bad if she'd been obsessing about it. But her focus has always been on supporting Bellamy, and it hadn't occurred to her that she might need support too. That she might have to figure out how she fits into all this.

"I don't see how this is a surprise," Raven says, because support isn't really her thing. "Bellamy got a kid, of course she's your kid too. You knew it was coming."

"I did," Clarke says, with a sigh. "But--not like this."

"Like what?"

"It's hard to explain. You help out, but--"

"But I'm not in love with him."

She inclines her head, granting the point. "Not just that. I don't know what I am, you know? I want to be around all the time, helping him take care of her, but I'm not--" She huffs. "My students all think we're having a secret affair, you're convinced we're going to start dating any day, but I don't even know if I'm supposed to tell him when I think he's fucking up, or how to--"

"Whoa," says Raven. "Okay, yeah. Take a deep breath. What happened? Did you guys have a fight?"

"No, nothing happened. But it's going to."

"What is?"

"She's got a crush," Clarke admits. "On a kid who hangs out in my art room. And I know Bellamy's going to freak out about it, and I want to tell him not to." She rubs her face. "Actually, I don't. I don't want him to find out about it, because it's not a big deal. But it seems like it might be beyond my pay grade."

Raven puts her arm around Clarke's shoulders, squeezes. "You want to tell me about it from the beginning?"

"Seriously, nothing bad has happened. I know Bellamy's--" She smiles a little. "I know how grateful he is that I'm helping him out. But--I'm helping. Every time I do anything, he acts like I'm doing him a huge favor. And I get why, but--I don't want it to be like that. He doesn't expect to get thanked for just--she's been his responsibility his whole life. I get it. But I don't want him to feel like he's alone with all this."

"He knows he's not, Clarke," says Raven. "Trust me."

"Not like he should."

There's a pause, Raven watching her with an expression that makes her slightly nervous. "Look. I know you're gone for him, okay? Wells knows. His sister knows. We all fucking know, except for him. And I get that it's scary, but--"

"I think I need to convince him I'm in this," Clarke admits. "I think that comes first."

Raven looks dubious. "How do you do that?"

"No idea."

"You could just sit him down and tell him you're in love with him and you want to help him raise his sister. I'm pretty sure he thinks about you saying that when he jerks off."

Clarke has to smile. "I'd prefer he just thought about my breasts."

"Okay, you saying that topless," Raven corrects. "You know what I mean."

"I do know what you mean," Clarke agrees. "I'm going to tell him. I really am. But--I don't think it's time."

Raven nods. "But you're good, right? You're happy? This is one of those problems you're happy to have, like how Wells and I are fighting about how big of a wedding we want."

She smiles. "Yeah. It's a great problem to have."

As much as Clarke looked forward to breaks as a student, it's nothing compared to how much she loves them as a teacher. Vacations, as a teacher, are the fucking best, and she's even more excited for Thanksgiving, because it's going to be so much time with Bellamy and Octavia, family time.

Honestly, she might crash at their place for the entire break. It's tempting. They probably won't stop her.

She thinks about texting Bellamy before she goes over, but she told him on Friday that she'd see him tomorrow, so she assumes that he's at least theoretically expecting her. And if he and Octavia aren't awake yet, she does know where the spare key is. She can absolutely let herself in and fool around on the Wii until the Blakes drag themselves out of bed.

But, to her surprise, Octavia opens the door promptly, and not only are they awake, but they have company.

Bellamy is the most distracting, of course, because he's in early-morning mode, shirtless in his pajamas, glasses slightly crooked on his face. In an ideal world, she'd just be able to stare at him non-stop, but there are other people around, including students, and she turns her attention to Monty, Jasper, and Harper, who are all gaping at her from the couch. She is, definitely, dressed for leisure, and completely unprofessional.

And showing up at her coworker's door when he's half naked. The coworker everyone thinks she's dating, even. Just because it's vacation doesn't mean it's not awkward.

"You guys are giving me a lot to process here," she finally says, settling her attention on Octavia.

Octavia huffs. "I told him I had friends coming over. I think his brain stops working once vacation starts."

Clarke considers her response, weighing her options carefully. There is, of course, the option of pretending she was coming for legitimate reasons, like because her car broke down and she needs a jump, or he has some paperwork for her, or something.

Or she could just lean into it. This is something she wants to be a regular occurrence in her life, and she has to learn to deal with it sooner or later.

"Yeah, well," she says, giving Octavia a smile, "his brain is always pretty questionable. What are we playing? I want in."

Jasper opens and closes his mouth a couple times before he manages to speak. "Smash Brothers. You can sub in for me, I don't mind."

"Appreciated." She settles on the floor, glances back over her shoulder at Bellamy, who doesn't look much less slackjawed than Jasper, honestly. "And put a shirt on, Bellamy. There are kids here."

"Happy Thanksgiving to you too," he says, but it's enough to get him moving. And, to Clarke's unspeakable relief, when he comes back into the living room, he's still wearing his pajama pants and glasses, so he's decided he can take the day to relax too.

Or relax relative to being Bellamy, which means he takes about thirty seconds to watch the end of the match and then asks, "Did you guys have a plan for lunch?"

"Pizza, probably," says Octavia.

He makes a face. "Pizza?"

"You like pizza. Don't act like you're too good for pizza now."

"I'm not too good for pizza, it's just too early for it."

"It's 12:15, Bellamy," says Clarke. "Just because you slept in doesn't mean it's actually early."

"Fine, I don't want pizza, so if you guys play your cards right, I'll make waffles."

"Is playing our cards right just telling you that we want waffles?" she asks. "Because I'm not willing to put any more effort into it than that."

"I'll say please," says Monty. "And beg, if necessary. I love waffles."

"Yeah, same," says Jasper. "Basically whatever I need to do. We're shameless."

"You're lucky everyone else is picking up your slack," he tells Clarke, pushing himself off the floor and heading into the kitchen. "None of you are allowed to have coffee, though. You're all hyperactive enough already."

Clarke waits until she loses, which doesn't take long, and then hands her controller back to Jasper and goes to check on Bellamy in the kitchen. There's a clear line of sight from the living room, so none of the kids will actually be able to wonder if they're doing anything inappropriate, but she can talk to him in a fairly private way.

"I can take off, if you want," she murmurs.

He frowns. "Take off?"

"If we want to keep the gossip down."

"I think it's a little late for that," he says, apparently without thinking, and the winces. "Not that, uh--I don't care," he settles on. "Octavia lives here now, she's going to have friends over, so am I. I'm not going to try to arrange my life around them not realizing I have personal relationships. And everyone already knows I have one with you."

"Cool. You need help with the waffles?"

He snorts. "Not from you." But then his expression softens a little. "You should have fun with the video games. I'm set in here."

"Division of labor," she agrees. "You do the cooking, I beat teenagers at video games."

"The two most important responsibilities in any household. You should take some coffee too. Just to rub it in their faces."

"And so I don't die of caffeine withdrawal?"

"I wasn't going to say it."

She heads back into the living room and flops back down, listening with half an ear to the comforting sound of Bellamy in the kitchen. Even when he's not doing much, just making coffee or cereal, there's something about his presence there that makes the room feel alive, that makes the house feel like a home.

That might just be him, though.

Once they've eaten, he does come back to socialize too, and he even gets out of his own head, doesn't worry about being the right person for once. Which is always Clarke's favorite, because he is the right person, always. And, even better, he doesn't worry about being her friend, about nudging her shoulder to mess her up and teasing her and smiling at her, and it does feel like the perfect test run for the life she wants.

It even feels like something she can have.

The kids leave at around six, when Jasper's mom comes to give rides home, and Clarke lets herself snuggle into Bellamy's side on the couch. His only response is to raise his arm so she can get closer and then wraps it around her, so that's great too. He smells like detergent and sunshine, and he might actually be perfect.

"Worn out?" he teases.

"Just thinking about all the other things we've done and trying to compare it." Octavia sits down on the floor next to them, and she directs the question to both of them. "So, how bad is this one going to be?"

Bellamy considers. "I was the one who walked into a bunch of students shirtless."

"I was the one who came over to your house while you were shirtless," she shoots back, and he grins.

"You handled it like a champ, though."

She pokes him in the side. "Yeah, I really reined in my incredible lust. It's so hard not jumping you in front of your sister and her three over-invested friends. I deserve a gold star for restraint."

"I was looking really hot," he says, but in a sort of faux-contemplative way that makes her think he doesn't realize how true it is.

"I'm the one who has to witness this, you know," says Octavia, which is a good reminder that they're not alone and she should not be thinking about climbing into Bellamy's lap and tugging off his shirt to demonstrate exactly how hot she finds him. Not that those thoughts are ever that far from her mind, but still. They can wait for her to be alone in the shower. "Why are you even here, Clarke?"

As distractions go, it's not much, but she'll take it. "It's vacation, I'm bored. Hanging out with my favorite siblings."

"Yeah, she basically lives here when we're on break," Bellamy says. "I should have warned you."

"I'm a perk." She pokes him again. "You should order pizza."

He groans, but at least doesn't object to pizza this time. She's honestly been craving it since they brought it up earlier. "Octavia should order pizza, I don't want to move."

"You're the worst adults ever," says Octavia, and Bellamy fumbles his phone out of his pocket and gives it to her.

"We definitely are," Clarke agrees. "But you're stuck with us."

She can feel Bellamy tensing next to her, just slightly, and she snuggles closer. Every day isn't going to be this good. They're going to fight and disagree and Octavia is going to be a handful, once she gets used to them.

But Clarke wants it all. Clarke wants to be a part of it.

"And you're suck with the toppings I want on this pizza," says Octavia, oblivious. "Suck on that."

Bellamy relaxes by degrees, leans into Clarke more heavily, and Clarke lets her eyes drift closed.

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "I'm sucking on it."

"We finally had that fight," Clarke tells Raven, flopping down onto her couch and closing her eyes.

"I assume this is about Bellamy because everything in your life is about Bellamy. You're like a walking Bechdel test failure."

"Just around you. I talk to my students about things that aren't Bellamy all the time." She pauses. "But, yeah, this is about Bellamy."

"You seem pretty upbeat for having a fight with him."

"A good fight, I think. It was just kind of us glaring at each other for a minute and then Octavia pointed out it was none of our business. But he told me to butt out and I didn't, so--I think that's good."

"Honestly, I can't believe it took this long for that to happen. If that's all you had to do to get in a fight--"

"He's usually good at this," Clarke says. "I don't disagree with him that often."

"But it's good, right? That you guys disagreed."

"Yeah, I think so. He needed to someone to argue with him, and he needed to know I would."

"So does that mean you're going to tell him you want to marry him now? Or do you have another excuse?"

"No, I'm going to. I just need to psych myself up. So--probably by Christmas."

Raven rolls her eyes. "This is why I bet Wells he was going to make the first move."

"You and Wells bet on my love life and you're making fun of me for not passing the Bechdel test?"

"Come on, when's the last time you saw a black guy and a latina talk about anything in a movie? We're already beating the odds."

Clarke smiles. "Okay, fine. You want to hear dumb student stories? Will that make you feel better?"

"Only if we're done with Bellamy."

"We're never done with Bellamy," she admits. "But we can take a break. I think we're good."

She means it, but she still can't quite relax until she talks to him. His offer of hanging out made it fairly clear he wasn't pissed at her, but she still feels a little at loose ends until she opens the door the next morning and finds him at the door, looking sheepish and a little cold.

Her smile is unavoidable. "Hey. What's up?"

He holds up a bag from the bakery down the street. "I'm an asshole, so I got you cupcakes."

"If you got me cupcakes every time you were an asshole, I'd never be able to eat them all," she points out, stepping out of the way so he can come in. He's untying his shoes, which is a good sign. That means he's probably staying. "Where's Octavia?"

"Library. She's texting me when she's done, so I was just going to hang out here. It's closer than going home," he adds, sounding slightly defensive.

"Yeah, you really want to avoid that extra five minutes in car. You want coffee? Are these breakfast cupcakes?"

"All cupcakes are breakfast cupcakes," he says, which is one of those things he'll only ever say to her, because he wants everyone else to think he's a real adult who believes in the food groups. That's nice too. She's special. "And coffee would be great."

She leads him into the kitchen and doesn't sit yet, just hovers by the table, drumming his fingers on the edge as she gets the coffee going. It's a pretty classic tell of his, and she stays quiet, letting him decide what direction the conversation is taking.

To her relief, it's the one she wants. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I was being stupid, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"I was baiting you," she says, unapologetic. "I pretty sure you'd rather take it out on me than Octavia. Or, god forbid, Lincoln." Fairness compels her to add, "And you weren't even that bad."

"Yeah, but I'm not allowed to thank you for distracting me. So these are officially apology cupcakes, not gratitude cupcakes."

It is honestly kind of adorable, how dedicated he is to her don't thank me rule, which wasn't even supposed to be a rule, really. It was mostly her first attempt to explain to him how she thought she should fit into this, and it obviously didn't work.

But his twisting himself around to figure out ways to thank her without thanking her is great, so she's never going to tell him that. "Don't exploit the loophole, Bellamy."

"Seriously," he says, sobering again. "I really wasn't ready for that."

"Did you guys talk about it?"

"Yeah, some. Just--I don't know. I assumed she wouldn't be thinking about that stuff yet. Not because she's too young. But I figured she'd still be--Mom only just died."

"Yeah. But that can help, too. It's nice to have a distraction. And as distractions go, Lincoln's a good one. He's a good guy. Which I know you know. I'm just going to keep reminding you."

"Yeah, that can't hurt." He lets himself lean against the counter next to her, which is at least getting close to relaxing. "If it makes her happy, I'll drive her to every fucking date, honestly."

She grins. "He has a car, so you don't even have to drive her."

"Let me be a little bit of a control freak, okay?"

The coffee machine switches itself off, and Clarke pours them two mugs and grabs the cupcakes, gently pushing Bellamy to the table to actually sit down before she asks, "Are you going to make him let you pick him up too? And then they sit in the back, but with the middle seat between them?"

"This is the stuff I missed out on growing up in cities. I just took the bus to dates."

"I know all the tricks," she agrees.

"That's, uh--" He looks down at his coffee, worrying his lip. "That's the other thing."

"Do you need me to teach you how to date?" she teases. "Do you not know?"

"Shut up, I'm being serious," he says, like she doesn't know. But--it's a little intimidating. It's a lot of serious for Saturday morning. "Look, I said--I told you I don't need your commentary, and you said I did, and you're right. If you think I'm being an idiot, I want to know. If you think I'm fucking up, tell me. If you've got commentary, I always want to hear it. I don't promise to always remember that I want to hear it, but--I do. And if I forget that again, I'll buy you more cupcakes."

She's going to marry this boy. There's no question. She doesn't care how many strings he has or how many kids he wants. As long as she gets him, she'll be happy. More than happy. "That was probably the nicest speech anyone's ever given me." She nudges his foot under the table. "But the cupcakes don't hurt either."

His laugh sounds more like a release of tension than amusement, and Clarke gets that too. She thinks, finally, that they might actually be completely on the same page. "Well," he says, "I wanted to cover all my bases."

"Yeah," she agrees. "I think we're all set."

Christmas still seems like a good time to talk to him, if for no other reason than it's far enough away, she has plenty of time to plan. And it's the kind of time when big gestures are both expected but also kind of safe. She could give him a romantic present and play it off as a joke if he didn't respond well, and while he'd still know, it would give them both the out they need to pretend it's not a thing.

She's already brainstorming ideas when he completely ruins the plan by kissing her.

As ways to ruin her plans go, it's pretty great, even if it takes her a second to figure out what's happening. It's obvious he's stressed and more than a little frazzled, but Clarke's seen him like that a thousand times, and he's never reached up, tangled his hand in her hair, and pressed his mouth against hers before.

For all she's thought about it, she never thought it would happen. Not without warning.

That's about when she realizes it is happening and starts to kiss back, nipping his bottom lip, settling her hand against his jaw, feeling the slight rasp of stubble under her fingers. He smiles, but only for a second, because she's deepening the kiss, getting the rhythm of it down, and all she can think about is how good it feels, how much she loves him, and how he probably feels the exact same way.

Raven was right; he did make the first move.

When he pulls back, she can't help gaping for a second, but then she sees him, gazing up at her, all adoration, and she feels her own smile taking over her face.

Christmas suddenly seems so far away. She doesn't know how she thought she could wait. She doesn't know how she waited this long in the first place.

"Thanks," he says, voice rough and deliberate. "I appreciate--I appreciate you."

She has to wet her lips to get her voice back, and she sees him track the movement. "Yeah. I'll bring her home after dinner, okay?"

"Cool."

"Good luck with your grades, that really sucks," she says, and he's still watching her, and she can't help leaning in to kiss him herself, just a quick goodbye, assurance that they're good.

Or that's what it's supposed to be. In practice, she hasn't kissed anyone for two years, and she's wanted to kiss Bellamy almost that whole time, so she can't bring herself to pull back.

He's the one who finally manages it, looking a little dazed, like he somehow wasn't expecting her to keep wanting to kiss him. Which is ridiculous, because she's currently biting the corner of the mouth just to keep herself from doing it again.

"Yeah, uh--" he manages, only somewhat regaining his composure. And he still has to clear his throat again. "See you tonight. Raven can work wonders, probably." She can see his throat bob as he swallows. "Eat vegetables, Octavia."

Octavia sounds as smug as anything, so everyone really did see this coming. "Thanks for the tip, Bell." But she's at least nice enough to wait until they're in the car to say, "So, I was going to ask you for advice, but you're probably useless now, right?"

"No, it's fine," she says, bright. "I can carry on normal conversations when I'm thinking about making out with your brother. I do it all the time. Go ahead."

Octavia laughs."Was that him asking you out, by the way?"

"It better be." Honestly, if anyone can overthink this one, it's Bellamy. But--it was his idea. There's no way he doesn't want to. "If he doesn't want to date me after that, I'm going to murder him. And then I'll get you out of foster care, obviously. Don't worry. Me and Raven and Wells will adopt you."

Octavia rolls down the window a little, even though it's freezing out. Clarke's found she always likes a little air to start a car trip, and it's the kind of quirk she likes knowing. These are her people. She gets them. "I wasn't worried. He totally wants to marry you."

It's possible she'll never get tired of people telling her how much Bellamy likes her. "Good."

It's four years before he actually asks her, which doesn't bother her in the least. It takes roughly ten minutes after she drops Octavia off that night for them to get their relationship squared away to her satisfaction, and she thinks they both know exactly how serious they are, right from the start. There are bad days, of course, serious disagreements, growing pains with the relationship and with Octavia. But she never doubts them, somehow, snd by the time he proposes, she's sure that there's nothing they can't survive together.

Which is why she says, "One question."

"You're responding to my proposal with a question?" he asks, sounding amused. "I proposed first, you can't do it now and get credit. I got dibs. You missed it."

"Not that," she says. And then she leans in and kisses him, just to get that out of the way before she makes it awkward. "I just--we haven't actually talked about kids."

He frowns, looking confused. "What about kids?"

"I know that's weird, we basically already have a kid. And it's not like--I just thought we should talk about it. Before we--"

He looks completely baffled. "You want to talk about kids." And then, to her shock, he laughs. "Jesus, Clarke, I don't fucking care. Kids, no kids, whatever. I love you, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That's it. That's all." He bumps his nose against hers. "Honestly, if I'm done with fatherhood after this, I'm fine. We can just get a bunch of cats or something. We already raised a teenager."

Clarke laughs, leans up for another kiss. "Okay then, yeah. I'll marry you. Absolutely."

"Cool." He gives her a crooked smile. "You weren't actually worrying I was going to dump you because you didn't want kids for four years, were you? We really could have covered that sooner. Like, the first day."

"Not worrying. Just--it always seemed like you'd be a good dad. Like you should be one. But I figured it wouldn't really be an issue until after Octavia left."

"I guess," he says, sounding dubious. "And, yeah, I'd probably be a good dad. You'd be a good mom too, but who cares? We can be whatever we want. And I want to be with you."

"Sap."

"It's a proposal, I'm supposed to be sappy. Not that your a belated freak out about whether or not we're reproducing wasn't--"

She elbows him, snatching the ring out of his hand to slide onto her finger while she's at it. It fits perfectly, and she's probably not going to wear it regularly until summer, but--she can wear it until Monday, for sure. It looks really nice on her finger.

"Just wanted to make sure we're on the same page," she says.

"I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Does that sound good?"

"Yeah," she says, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "That sounds exactly right."

#doctormongoose

17 notes · View notes

torentialtribute · 5 years

Text

MLB hall of famer Piazza came to Reggiana a hero but left it in ruins

Mike Piazza was used to more than he ever was expected of him.

After a game

After playing a game of tennis. career that saw him as a star for the New York Mets and Los Angeles Dodgers,

The answer came during the 2014 World Cup. Piazza, a man who is a third-generation Italian immigrant with a background in sport and money to play with his life.

I would buy a football team,

Mike Piazza played Major League Baseball for the New York Mets and LA Dodgers in the US "

York Mets and LA Dodgers in the US "

Mike Piazza played Major League Baseball for New York Mets and LA Dodgers in the US

] He was initiated into the Gallery of Honor in 2016 and is considered one of the greatest catchers.

He was initiated into the Gallery of Honor in 2016 and is considered one of the greatest catchers

Options were explored. Everton was being watched before they realized the numbers were too large. Reading and Leeds – & I've always liked Leeds, it's weird & # 39; – emerged as an option.

Then I returned to the land of his grandparents. Parma, that historic outpost that has fallen during difficult times, was named.

Reggiana, a third-tier side with aspirations of something more, was the place where Piazza would make up its heritage. But unlike his own career, this is not an underdog success story. Instead, it's the story of how a man from Pennsylvania came over his head and killed the 100-year-old institution across the sea.

<img id = "i-6b2cd531d82d80e0" src = "https://dailym.ai/2F9EdRT -0-image-m-46_1560334641805.jpg "height =" 634 "width =" 634 "alt =" After his retirement, Piazza decided to buy a football club, take over the C-series Reggiana "class =" blkBorder img-share "

When he retired, Piazza turned to buy a football club and took Series C to Reggiana.

Reggiana has traditionally roamed around the lower levels of Italian football. They are located in Reggio Emilia, the city with less than 200,000 inhabitants in northern Italy.

Their peak came in the 1990s, when they spent three seasons in Series A and were managed by Carlo Ancelotti. At that time, they finished 13th in the top flight and counted Claudio Taffarel – the Brazilian international goalkeeper – among their players.

The part of their run in Serie A, they were planning to build a new stadium. That eventually became a financial pit and financial misery.

Instead of going to work locally and setting up an MLS franchise, Piazza went back to the land of his ancestors. He told the New York Times : & I'd rather be poor in Italy than in St. Louis. You can't get a good meal there! & # 39;

Their fans dared to dream when Ancelotti was in charge. When Piazza arrived, they held a meeting in one of the most important squares in the city to show their support for the new regime, they thought they could imagine a better future again

Carlo Ancelotti was the coach of Reggiana during their Series A days in the 1990s "class =" blkBorder img-share "coach of Reggiana during their Series A days in the 1990s "

Carlo Ancelotti coached Reggiana during their Series A Days in the 1990s

<img id = "i-ea77184b51d026a1" src = "https://dailym.ai/2ZoG9Og -0-image-a-21_1560333377876.jpg "height =" 634 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-ea77184b51d026a1" src = "https://dailym.ai/2CYdfvj 2019/06/12/10 / 14686224-0-image-a-21_1560333377876.jpg " height = "634" width = "634" alt = "<img id =" i-ea77184b51d026a1 "src =" https://dailym.ai/2F7vFe9 -image-a-21_1560333377876.jpg "height =" 634 "width =" 634 "alt =" Fans held a meeting in one of the city's main squares to welcome Piazza as its owner in 2016 "class =" blkBorder img- share "

<img id =" i-ff7935f6c712f6a5 "src =" https://dailym.ai/2ZiFUUG -a-22_1560333380842.jpg "height =" 634 "width =" 634 "alt =" Smoke and wave after wave of red shirts greet Piazz "

<img id =" i-ff7935f6c712f6a5 "src =" https : //i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/06/12/10/14686214-0-image-a-22_1560333380842.jpg "height =" 634 "width =" 634 "alt =" Smoke torches and wave after wave of red shirts greeted Piazza upon his arrival in northern Italy "class =" blkBorder img

The beginning of 2016 should be filled with fond herin for Piazza. He was eventually incorporated into the Baseball Hall of Fame and completed the acquisition of Reggiana.

His seeds and the eventual demise of the club were sewn into that spell. of around € 500,000 a year before Piazza bought them. Between his purchase and his arrival in Reggio, these costs went up.

Regarding The Athletic midfielder Gael Genevier said: & it's a jungle. And if you have money, it's even worse. Mike had a large wallet, he was American and he didn't know football in Italy. And I think that's why I had a lot of problems. "

Wages were closer to the levels of Series B.

Towards the end of the season, they spent closer to € 6 million to finish fifth in the third layer. In a speech to Calcio E Finanza at the end of 2018, Piazza explained: & # 39; Many involved from professionals up to & # 39; trustworthy & # 39; advisers and partners constantly provided false information, half-truths and outright lies.

Series B was the only possible rescue, and even the first possible rating of the club, for cash flow issues, for shifting the deal, negotiating contracts, including stadium rental, with absolutely no permission to to do so, it would have been just a temporary delay.

Reggiana midfielder Gael Genevier (right) explained why Piazza was experiencing problems in Italy (19459007 ) [1 9459008] Reggiana midfielder Gael Genevier (right) explained why Piazza had problems in Italy

Gael Genevier (right) explained why Gael Genevier (right)

After his first year, Piazza knew I had to do things change.

& # 39; When that ball went into the net, it felt like I was playing again, I felt like playing again, & he told The Athletic. I have never done cocaine, I have never done crystal meth, I have never used any hard drugs or medication except aspirin. But let me tell you, that was intoxicating. & # 39;

He needed someone with a stronger prospect to run Reggiana and bring it into line. Someone had to win promotion and with a lower budget.

Alicia Piazza had appeared in Playboy and Baywatch in the 1990s. They loved her in Italy, especially in a traditionally male-dominated sport. She was suddenly put in a role as vice president of an Italian football club.

Piazza turned to his wife Alicia to run the club and take a stronger stance in 2017 Alicia leads the club and in 2017 takes a stronger position in

Alicia leads the club and in 2017 takes a stronger position in Los Angeles Dodgers

Oakland Athletics

& # 39; It's not like he's a kitty or needs his wife. It's the way he feels comfortable. He has always been that way. "

She immediately started looking for cost savings. The team coach no longer stopped at players' homes to drop them off.

Alicia eventually described herself as & # 39; the bitch & # 39 ;. She sent a text message to the former sports director who ended with the words & # 39; f *** off & # 39; no one avoided her wrath.

Eventually the stadium became the main problem and they rented their grounds from the owner of Sassuolo, during the period between the purchase and the acquisition, the costs of renting it had doubled.

This was not good as far as the squares were concerned.

& # 39 "We've reorganized this company, we've invested in this community. I've brought my family here, my kids here to be part of this community, and we deserve respect," Mike began.

Toward the end, he slapped his fist on the table, gestured wildly, and said : & # 39; We have received nothing … nothing! And I'm tired of it.

& I'm tired of Reggiana being pushed around. I'm frustrated, and I'm scared off *****. & # 39;

The rent did not fall. The seeds that had been planted years before began to bear fruit.

Alicia spoke with her husband about giving a press conference about the situation of the stadium of the club

[DeclarationofReggianaCalcio

Amid the stadium problems and the debacle of the washing machine, happened something good on the field.

After attempting to hire a Greek coach fell apart because Alicia changed the terms of the deal after he arrived in Reggiana, a few youth team coaches seized everything except

without the proper permit ]

Reggiana started beating and was fourth at the end of the regular season. That qualified them for the playoffs.

It seemed like a good start. They faced Siena in the quarterfinals and won the home game 2-1.

While Siena went 1-0 higher in Tuscany, they were reconnected at the start of the added time. That would mean that Reggiana would go to the semi-final on aggregate.

Then fate struck. Deep in the added time, a cross came in Reggiana's box. The suspect went to the ground with a push and fell on the ball while handling it during the trial. The referee pointed to the place.

Siena scored. Reggiana went outside. The mayor of Reggio Emilia called it & # 39; unjust & & # 39 ;. Mike wrote on the official website of the club: & I regret that they have witnessed such corruption and incompetence. I am deeply outraged and angry. I am very sorry for our fans, they don't deserve this.

& # 39; It is really a sad day for Italy and for Italian football. I will never understand how dirty and corrupt individuals have been able to make something beautiful and repulsive and ugly. I am ill. & # 39;

<img id = "i-7f4112cde7480bcb" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/06/13/14/14686208-7132413 -This_was_the_incident_that_saw_Reggiana_concede_an_extra_time_pe-a-6_1560431361584.jpg "height =" 274 "width =" 633 "alt =" This was the incident when Reggiana saw an extra time penalty in the Series C Play-offs "class =" blkBorderg "/

This was the incident that Reggiana deserved an extra time penalty in the Play-offs of the Series C was the incident that Reggiana saw an extra time penalty admitting in the Play-offs of the Series C

Reggiana players keep their heads full of disbelief after the decision ends their promotion hopes Reggae players keep their heads full of disbelief after the decision has made their promotion hopes terminated "

[1 9459010]

youtube

Ernesto Melauri stood at the gates of the Reggiana stadium, shirtless and crying.

The 71-year-old was the social media manifestation of what had happened, the viral video that showed the damage done last summer

Melauri & # 39; s flag had traveled with him to every match I had attended.

The squares apparently committed when they had a thank you shortly after the loss of the play-off.

On June 8, Alicia said goodbye to the staff while telling them to enjoy their summer. The offices were closed and chained the following Monday. The gates were closed.

<img id = "i-eaae21e74b41bd6b" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/06/12/ 11 / 14686218-0-image-m-45_1560333743097.jpg "height =" 793 "width =" 634 "alt =" Reggiana superfan Ernesto Melauri was at the gate and cried when the club stopped

Reggiana supervisor Ernesto Melauri stood at the gate and cried when the club stopped Alicia made it clear that they were reducing their losses: & # 39; Unfortunately Reggiana has been attacked by negative forces since Mike & # 39; s arrival …. The suspected loss in Siena was the final blow. are generous, but we are not crazy. "

When they returned to vacate the offices, Ultras marched on the floor.

They had, according to some estimates, lost around € 10 million in the club and were done with it.

When the deadline for teams to register for Series C came, the squares let this pass without paying the costs. A post on Alicia's Instagram, subtitled & # 39; time to say goodbye & # 39 ;, was the extent of their communication with the fans.

So Ernesto cried.

Alicia posted this page of local paper along with her & # 39; Time to say goodbye & # 39; post "class =" blkBorder img-share "

Alicia posted this front page of the local newspaper along with her & # 39; this page of the local newspaper along with her & # 39; Time to say goodbye & # 39; Time to say goodbye & # 39;

Local businessmen would quickly unite and buy the existing club from the squares, and the mayor's blessing, they founded a new team, Reggio Audace.

They played in the Serie D last season. It is a semi-professional level, a serious drop-down compared to the layer above, there are nine different divisions. within the competition and each of them has only one automatic promotion slot and four teams compete in playoffs.

To put it another way, it will take some time for Reggio to have a third. Tier team again.

They closed last season, but play-off wee again beaten.

The old institution was declared bankrupt in December of last year. The squares came, saw and left nothing behind.

Mike Piazza arrived in the city as a hero.

Yet he has been told that he is open about having another club, nobody will like him as the man in charge. Even as a favor.

Despite the problems at Reggiana, Piazza is still open for investment in other clubs Reggiana, Piazza is still open to invest in other clubs "

Despite the problems Reggiana has encountered, Piazza is still open to investment in other clubs

Source link

#MLB hall of famer Piazza came to Reggiana a hero but left it in ruins"

0 notes