#and I opened the compartment and read the letter right afterwards
Text
Thinking about that mural from DE
You know which one
TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD, FOR THE NEW PEOPLE. IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS
The next world mural. In the game, you encounter this piece very early on if you interact with everything available, you probably see this mural before you've ever even heard of Dora or before you've started to get really serious about your commie tendencies, if that's how you choose to play. And the reaction is like, "wow, this is kinda profound actually". Or maybe it's like, "oh lol, this game really is commie af isn't it" (even though later on it turns out that the game is much more critical of communism than you'd think at first). And the story in the ledger provides some insight into Harry and Jean and how they work together too, so it feels like it makes sense, it fits in very well at that moment in the game and that's it.
But looking back at this mural after you've played through the entire game, knowing what you know of Harry's relationship with Dora...
It's Harry's own fucking love story in a way, isn't it?
Him and Dora came from very different backgrounds. He's genuinely poor, grew up checking the trash cans on the streets for tare and edible food, spent his teenage years running around with a bunch of kids who all OD'd or got themselves killed one way or another over the years. He had dreams of getting an education, getting a chance to use his creativity and curiosity and learn about all that that is worth exploring in this world (which is everything), but those dreams are long dead. She's solidly middle class, with access to all the education and art and music he's always dreamt of, with her family to always fall back on. She's everything Harry's ever dreamt of growing up. She might as well be living in another world.
They fall in love with each other and she moves to Jamrock to live with him. Jamrock, the biggest fucking ghetto in Revachol, full of tweakers and gangsters and just thousands upon thousands of poor people permanently down on their luck trying to get by, with no proper aid or government and a police station so understaffed and underfunded they never even stood a chance. And they can barely make ends meet even living in Jamrock, moving from shithole to shithole, never knowing when they'll have their electricity cut, when something will happen that gets them thrown out, desperately scrambling for a new place to stay. And Dora could never do that, not really - she never actually lived in Jamrock, she always had the possibility of leaving, of going to work across the river and visiting her parents whenever she felt like it or just escaping, packing her shit and getting on the tram and never going back. And as long as she knew she wasn't really, truly stuck in this miserable shithole forever, she wasn't ever really living in Jamrock. And it could never be enough for her.
And she wanted more - for herself, for Harry, for their family, who even knows. Maybe she saw Harry struggling trying and failing to make a difference as a gym teacher and thought he could do more good with the RCM. Maybe she was getting desperate, living in this fucking shithole, and thought they needed more money. Maybe it was something completely else - but what is certain is that Harry ended up joining the RCM, and the 41st, and everyone there is on speed, everyone is miserable and desperate and always running behind playing catch up with the case load, with the crimes, with the drug addicts and rapists and murderers, and Harry, who's always been like this close to a genuine mental breakdown, just fucking falls apart. He needs to help people, needs to make a difference, and working at the 41st, with the budget and case load and staffing situation and the pure fucking misery in the area. He goes out and meets a miserable person after a miserable person and he can't do anything else than be nice, make their day a little bit more manageable, do his best- but he knows that no matter what he does, his best won't be enough. He won't be able to make a dent in the pure fucking misery that is Jamrock. But he needs to, so he drinks, he smokes, he does drugs, he loses any semblance of control he ever had over the voices in his head, the dude telling him to hit shit and the dude telling him to forget everything and just get fucked up and Revachol herself screaming at him about her imminent death. And in the end Dora can't stand it anymore and she leaves (and, honestly, good for her. I'm happy for her. But this is about Harry, and Harry isn't, he isn't able to be happy for her at this point in time).
And like. I personally doubt that she'd have left just because of the money if everything else was good. I honestly even doubt that the money was that big of an issue for her to start with, it was all the other issues first and then the fact that they couldn't even rent a fucking VHS and play it at times became just one more thing on top of this already massive pile of shit that broke the proverbial camel's back. But in Harry's mind, he was never rich enough for her. She was always the middle class girl who settled for the poor fuck, and he was never gonna be good enough for her because he was just a broke dude from Jamrock. She was perfect and so so beautiful and at one point her love was the only thing keeping him going, and then she left because he couldn't even
And from what we can see in the game she was the only person he's ever really, truly loved.
But in his mind, they could never be together again. They could try as they might, but it was never gonna work out, because she was a rich girl and he was just a poor miserable fuck. He grew up looking for change on the streets, she took piano lessons in a fancy part of town. The difference was just too large to ever truly be bridged.
So for post-breakup Harry, prior to Martinaise and even during the events in Martinaise, true love was never actually possible. It is possible only for the new people, in the next world. It was too late for him - he had his chance, and it was an impossible thing, it could never have worked out and now he's wasted it. Because of the inherent differences between different social classes. It is too late for him. So yeah, fuck it, wreak havoc on the fucking middle class. Fuck those rich bastards who took Dora from him, and fuck Dora too.
On another note, this was also one of the most recent cases him and Jean worked on prior to Martinaise. I don't remember the date exactly, but it was in his last ledger, it must have been pretty recent. Do you think he saw the mural and thought about it the same way I did? Maybe this was the one that truly pushed him over the edge? The impossible love. It truly was too late for him. The only way to fix it is a new fucking start. And how do you get that?
After life - death. After death - life again.
#disco elysium#harry du bois#harrier du bois#dora ingerlund#DE#herr's personal tag#next world mural#when first playing the game I didn't even really stop to think about the middle class line#the love part of the mural honestly felt very powerful to me#and I opened the compartment and read the letter right afterwards#so i had a lot to think about in addition to just this#anyway#this is more of a “what if” rant than any actual metaanalysis#our story about Dora is extremely influenced by Harry's point of view#but at the same time#every design decision in this game is deliberate#or most of them anyway#is this something the game designers were actually thinking of when designing the mural?#was that an intentional decision on their side?#or is it just me reading too much into random shit while missing important details elsewhere again?#who knows#midnight rant
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
GREAT DESCENDANT — Pt. 1 Leather Journal
↪Attack on Titan series
↪content; warrior!reader, aged-up character, graphic description of violence, slow burn, season 4 spoiler
Tiny footsteps belonging to you echoed throughout the empty hallway. Your forehead scrunched as a bead of sweat trailed down your skin, but you dismissed the discomfort as you needed to find your father, wanting some explanation.
It was around four in the afternoon, and you were certain that your father must be occupying himself inside his study, probably enjoying his coffee as he read some reports regarding the military advance. You always wondered why he got all of that information even though he was not even in the military, but perhaps the book in your hand was the answer to your question, and you had to find out more.
You were used to running around this part of the mansion — since you would spend some of your time here with your father when he didn't invite the military higher-ups or some of his business partners for a meeting together. Truthfully, you could have waited for later after dinner to confront him, but your mind was already fueled with curiosity that wouldn't die without being given the right extinguisher.
So you scurry out within an instant, far from the east wing where the library was located to the west where your father would entertain his friends and colleagues. In your small journey, you took off your mules and ran barefoot, ignoring the gasp from the maid that you passed in the hallway.
Panting, you felt the exhaustion course through your body as you finally reached your destination. Some eyes regarded you with worry beneath their intimidating gaze, but they knew that you had been running out of breath before, certain that it was nothing serious.
Two guards were standing tall on each side of the door, guarding your father's study against the outside, and you were certain there were another two on the other side of the door. They didn't give you any attention or warning, so you knew that he was not in some kind of meeting or too engrossed with work.
Sucking a deep breath, you hide the book that you found behind your back before raising your hand to the wooden door, knocking it with your knuckles several times, soft yet enough that it would echo inside the room. You heard the rustling of papers, probably from some of the military letters that he read.
"Name and busi—"
"It's me, pa!"
Your voice cut him off in a gleeful manner, holding yourself from bursting hundreds of questions. If you wanted to know the truth, you needed to play your cards right. Well, what could a six years old girl do? Anything of course, especially if you were the only child (for now) and your parents loved you like you were their stars in the night sky.
You tried to hide your smirk when you heard the audible 'click' coming from the inside, followed by the door opening simultaneously. The sun penetrated through the windows, lighting up the whole room and the hallway behind you. A pleasant smell of cedarwood filled your nostrils in an instant, the unique scent that you knew embedded on your father's suit too since he spent the majority of his time here.
There was a massive round table in the middle of the room, one where you like to sit when your father was busy with work but wanted your company. You would sit there without a care and boredom since your nose mostly touched the paper book in your hand, too engrossed with whatever literature that you could find within his study.
You didn't need to go back and forth from the east wing and grabbed some books there. Your father studies already engaging enough with a wide variety of history, self-improvement, and many other philosophy books. The room would be engulfed with silence if that happened, but the atmosphere was serene and comforting to both of you, making times fly past naturally and just felt right.
"Well, isn't it my precious daughter?" He stood up from his plush leather chair, dark yet warm eyes never left your figure as you skipped toward where he was. His lips shaped into a gentle smile as he watched how giddy you looked right now, with both hands on your back as if you had a surprise for him.
It was indeed a surprise, but whether he liked it or not was another story.
"Pa, I need to speak with you!" Your bubbly personality was always so endearing. You were witty, smart, wise — his little rascal but still had a personality like a noble lady when needed.
"And what do you want to talk to me about, my little star?" He walked closer before kneeling in front of you, levelling his eyes with yours. "Something serious? Something playful? Or maybe you just want to talk to me since you missed your pa so much?" His smile turned into a little smirk, raising one of his eyebrows in a teasing manner.
You jutted your lips at his question as your hands clench tighter on the brown books that you found before. Your father waited for any kind of explanation, but you didn't open up your mouth, not even a little. But you suddenly averted your gaze away, pupils shifting back and forth.
He blinked, trying to understand what it was that you wanted. Your father then looked past you, finding the guards inside the room. It left a question inside his mind at the moment, because you never once needed to talk alone as you always threw questions at him without caring if anybody heard.
This would be the first time, and he decided to indulge you with it.
"Guards, you can wait outside."
"Sir, with all due respect—"
"Please."
The two guards looked at each other before giving your father a salute, answered with a firm nod from him. You stood still with your eyes closed as you waited until the sound of footsteps started to fade, not realizing the scrutinizing look that he threw at you. The second you heard a gentle thud echoed in the room, you let out a breath that you subconsciously held.
You were alone now, with your father waiting for any syllables to come out from your lips. A few seconds ago you were so eager, ready to burst out all of the questions that popped inside your mind. But now, as he gazed at you with a look that you couldn't fathom, you started to rethink your decision.
Would he mad at you for reading the book that he strictly said was forbidden to read? He always kept it inside a glass compartment, telling you that it was filled with a history of mankind. The truth that someday he would tell you. So would he be angry if you knew it now instead of later?
"You read the journal, my star?" You subconsciously dropped the book as you never thought he could see through you like that. Your hands were shaking behind your back before you tightly grip your bow's dress, fearing that he would not let you walk inside the library ever again.
Seeing the distress in your eyes, he immediately rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently as if to make sure that you didn't have to be afraid. That whatever you did, you always became his little star, the daughter that he loved so much. "It's alright, sooner or later I will tell you all of it."
His voice was calm as he picked up the book from behind you, opening it right in front of your face as he checked that in case some pages were wrinkled. You still kept your mouth shut, waiting for him to say something more — because for sure his words before were still not enough to calm yourself.
When he looked at you again, you were averting his gaze and decided to look down. So he closed the book and reached out for you, holding your much smaller hand as he brought you toward his desk. The silence was deafening as he didn't say anything afterwards, making you have to focus on the footsteps to dwindle your concern.
His hand was warm as it engulfed yours, squeezing it softly here and there as he plopped himself to his chair. With how light you were, he picked you up and tucked you gently on his lap, wanting to make sure that you were comfortable since it would take some time to explain everything to you.
"Now, can you tell me what you already know so far?"
It was now that you finally dared to look up, curious about the expression on his face. You should have known that your father wouldn't be angry at you, he couldn't, at least not towards you. His face didn't even show any sign of resentment, he just sat there, looking down, and waited until you were ready to talk.
"Almost everything, I guess." You finally dared to speak up, yet it still sounded so timid. "That King Fritz was not our enemy, it was thanks to him that the war is over." Continuing your words, you swallowed a huge lump. "And those people on the island, they are not demons, but they are exactly like—"
"Us."
He finished your word without pause, knowing what you were going to say next like he always did. Your forehead scrunched at this, lips turned into a scowl as you tried to understand the world that you live in right now. All the war, the hatred that Eldians received inside the internment zone, if only this true story was out in the public then they wouldn't get treated like that, right?
"B-But why do we hide this information, then?" You croaked out, not believing that your family concealed such truth. "If people knew that King Fritz was the one who wanted peace, if only the whole world knew that Eldians did not want anything but to live like a normal human, they were not going to be treated like this, pa!"
You were begging right now, needing some answer that could justify the choice they made. It felt awful, like someone had put a blindfold on you all your life, whispering to you that the world filled with hatred and that because of your ancestors, because of the blood that flows inside your veins and there was nothing else that you could do except living through the brutal knowledge.
But it was all a lie, because your family could have made a change in this world yet didn't do anything about it.
Your father just sat there, listening to your cries and complaints. He knew from the start that you were someone that would do anything for Eldians to be free, he often saw you sneaking around and talked to the maids, after all, questioning about how their children were at home and many other mundane things.
He didn't have the courage to tell you, the reason why he kept the information to himself when he was warned by the current inheritor. He didn't have the courage to tell you what lies across the sea, what slept inside the walls that the king had made. As your father, he didn't want his six years old innocent daughter to know that the fate of the world was in their hands — the Eldian.
His lips turned into a frown as he realized. No matter how much he wanted to protect you from this cruel world, no matter how much he just wanted you to live and be happy without a burden on your shoulder, he couldn't grant his wish.
Because soon, you would be the one in the family who held the biggest responsibility.
"You would know soon enough, my little star." He gulped down, dark orbs gazing at your face as he was so tormented from this fact only. Your beady eyes shone under the orange hue that slipped through the large windows, making you look even more innocent, an angel to him and his wife as he cradled you like this on his lap.
Soon, and he needed to start telling you now how much weight you would carry throughout your life. "Once you inherit the war hammer titan."
"Wake up!"
You sat up straight as you tried to inhale the air bit by bit, feeling like your dreams that you had just stolen the oxygen out of your lungs. No, it was not a dream, it was a memory that you had with your father. The day when you knew the truth, the day when you knew your responsibility and how you needed to keep a blind eye over it.
And for sure, hiding the fact from everyone was the hardest part. Especially when you had these people you called friends as you invaded the island of Paradis with the mission to take back the founding titan. You wanted to tell them the danger, or how the people inside the wall were not as different from those in Liberio.
But you had made a vow to your father to keep your lips sealed, no matter how much you wanted to share it. And you were not going to break that promise, not when you knew there was a high possibility that you wouldn't make it back alive.
"I am sorry, I should have been more gentle." Your gaze still cast down your lap, wanting to control your emotion first before interacting with the other warrior. "Nightmare?" But his gentle, mature voice was so endearing you couldn't help but lookup.
His forehead scrunched in worry as you realized that he squatted down right in front of you. Large hazel eyes scrutinizing your every movement, and you felt so bare with how he seemed like he could see right through you.
"I am fine, Marcel." You answered him a matter of factly, not wanting to prolong the constant worry that he had for his fellow warriors. "Sorry, I will clean up the firepit and be ready in a minute."
"Oh, no need. I mean— you don't need to." He stood up, reaching out his hand for you, and you took it despite the confusion that was written all over your face. "I already cleaned it up, so you just have to grab your bag and we will be ready to continue our journey."
"Marcel!" You exclaimed, stomping your feet to the ground subconsciously as your eyes drilled on his skull. "It was supposed to be my turn!" And your outburst of course caught the others' attention. "You always do something like this, making sure that everyone could leisure around while you did all the work."
"(Y/n), I am sure that he—" The glare in your eyes now fell to another victim, the colossal titan inheritor, and you could see him flinch from just being the recipient of your glare. "N-Nevermind, I will just, uhm, check on Reiner if he is okay."
And just like that, he scurried off to find his friend, not wanting to interrupt your little tantrum that he was sure would subside soon.
Bertolt knew you, you were always a little cranky when you woke up, at least that was what he could see by the past three days as he woke up with you not far from him. You needed at least a minute just opening your eyes without doing anything, and after that, you were good to go. So he understood why you seemed so extra for what Marcel did right now.
You continued to scold the older boy who just stood there scratching his nape bashfully and apologizing for what he did. He didn't do anything wrong, but you just disliked the idea that someone did something that was supposed to be your job. Though you always said thank you before taking your leave.
Feeling that you had enough with boys, you walked to Annie who was currently nibbling at some sweets that you gave her before at the boat that brought the companion here. She seemed to see your little quarrel but decided to keep silent, waiting for Marcel to lead the way when he was done fanning his reddened cheek.
Three days had passed after Marley dropped you off to this cursed land. Everyone had so much expectation for this generation, and the fact that a Tybur took part in the mission brought so much hope to the Eldians in your homeland.
Your father was right about the burden that you were going to have. All the expectations set the bar so high for you. So for that, he prepared you to be a reliable and strong individual. Ever since the revelation, he pointed a lot of private instructors to teach you all the basic things about self-defence, archery, firearms, and swordsmanship skills.
You were shaped to be the Eldian's saviour in Marley, ever since you were six. And you would make sure that all your knowledge and experiences would be put to good use.
Marcel told you about the plan, and for now, they all would rely on Bertolt and Reiner's titan since it was the most destructive and save the rest for later days. When he first told you about the plan, the two of you were alone, he liked to discuss strategy first with you because your mind was the most mature of all of them.
And all the time he told you about it, your mind always thought that it was so wrong for him to ask for your advice. You wanted to tell him not to destroy the whole outer wall, just one district was enough and everyone could sneak in already. But you knew the chances to get in were lower if there was not enough damage.
So reluctantly, you agreed. You told him that he was brilliant, telling him that it would work for the warriors. And after that, everyone would enrol in the military cadet corps, some would graduate to be a survey corps, while the others joined the military police regiment. It would need a few years to get by, but it would be the safest and optimal route.
Just a few years here and you could come back home, reading books and annoying your father even more. Though you were sure that your mother would scold you for spending too much time with him, she would want you to go horseback riding with her while telling some stories about the family.
Yes, everything would be just like before, and you couldn't wait for it.
Your eyes fleeting toward the brunette who walked in front of you, his hair swept to the back, reminding you of his brother that was the complete opposite of him in terms of personality. Marcel was gentle, compassionate, reliable, all the things that you would expect from an elder sibling. Meanwhile, Porco was aggressive, emotional, and somewhat a little rude when he talked.
And the big difference between Porco and Marcel that you knew, was the fact that the younger brother despised you. The blonde often threw shades and mockery, telling you that you were not like them, how you were a spoiled kid, and could never understand what Eldian really feels with all the privilege that you had due to your last name.
But that didn't stop you from wanting to befriend him. You could see through his harsh facade, he was actually gentle inside and cared deeply for all the warrior candidates. He even let his guard down that day when they knew Reiner would be the armoured titan inheritor instead of him, letting you sit beside him outside the headquarters as he let out a sob.
He wept silently when you put your hand on his back, comforting him through the single touch. That was the only push he needed before breaking down in front of you, cursing himself for not being a better candidate, that it was his fault for being too confident in his skill and not trying harder to get the military's attention.
Oh, if only he knew. If only he knew the real reason why he was not here.
It felt like it happened such a long time ago despite knowing a month just passed ever since. You wondered what the other warrior did right now, more accurately, what was he doing right now. Maybe he had lunch with his family, or perhaps beating himself to the pulp and kept on training until he couldn't stand anymore.
Knowing that was enough to make you frown since you really cared for him, and to think that he blamed himself for his failure broke your heart even more. Every time you walked, there was an extra weight on your chest as an ivory shark tooth pendant grazing your skin, reminding you of your days in Marley once again.
Especially the day when you received the necklace, something you never took off ever since.
And now as you walked right behind Marcel, you could only imagine that the brown strands were blonde instead. But you shook your head after that, knowing for certain he would have a longer lifespan, that he wouldn't have to carry so much burden like the rest of you. He could enjoy his life, and that was what caused Marcel to put Reiner on the pedestals instead of him.
You didn't remember since when you were getting left behind. Of course you could still see the fellow warriors in front of you, but they were a few meters ahead from where you were. It happened a lot, so you didn't really complain since they knew sometimes you would need alone time.
It was not like there were titans around anyway, the Marleyan Military had assured you that the titans would only be there near the outer wall. So everyone should be saved since it was still halfway through the journey, no one needed to worry and be too on guard for now.
At least that was what you believed until you saw a large shadow looming from behind you.
The silence was deafening when you felt the air sucked out from the space around you, leaving you to stand there alone as you slowly lost the ability to breathe. Fear, that was what you felt right now as your mind could only conclude one thing — there was a titan, right behind you.
No, you still needed to finish your mission. You had promised your father that you would come back to him, you had promised your mother that you would come back home intact, even if it needed you a few years to grant that, as long as you could see them again, it was alright.
As long as you could come back and see him happy and living a beautiful life even when your term was going to end, it would be fine.
But you were glued to the ground, your muscles tensed and you couldn't move your limbs to run, or just to evade that gigantic hand which now ready to crush your small body with its hand. Yet despite all that, you felt a strong push coming from your side, pushing you out of the way and snapped you back to reality.
You saw Marcel, his dark brown hair dishevelled as now his torso engulfed in the hand of a titan. He looked distressed, panicked, and he flailed his body around as he tried with all his might to survive, despite an impeccable fate that he already knew deep inside his heart.
No one knew where it came from, one second they were chatting, and the next as Marcel saw a titan running toward you, his feet moved on their own with one goal to reach for you. You couldn't see it, you just gave him an empty look as you were just deep in thought a moment before.
He knew that you would be too shocked to understand what happened, he knew that you couldn't move away when you turned to see what was standing behind you. And there was something inside his soul that boosted him to run faster, pushing you away as he decided to replace you.
"Come on, let's go!"
He heard Reiner shouting at you who was still sitting on the grass, eyes focused on him as you tried to wrap your head around you. There were tears in your orbs when Bertolt and Reiner pulled you away forcefully, your legs even wobbled, and that was when the ravenette decided to hoist you up over his shoulder.
Marcel heard the shout, the pleading in your voice as you called out his name. The others were running to safety, but he could still see you as your hand stretched out for him, not believing that you would lose him like this.
"(Y/n)!" He screamed with all his might, hoping that you could hear what he said. Wide teeth already surrounded his head, and it was a matter of time before his world turned black. So he needed to say it, he needed you to tell his brother that his job was done for now. "Tell Porco I did it!"
Then he was gone as the jaw of the titans closed with his body in between it. He died in the hand of a titan who no one knew where it came from. You should have been cautious, no matter what, this island was filled with titans and you shouldn't have trusted whatever the Marleyan Military said. And it should have been you, not him.
Your eyes never left the scene as you saw Marcel being devoured alive, starting from his head, slowly down to his hip. The details were so vivid and you were sure it would be engraved in your mind for as long as you lived. This would be your constant nightmare, reminding you every day what a cruel world you lived in.
And you didn't know if you were ever ready — if someday you met a circumstance when you had to face Porco, knowing that his brother died saving you.
Paradis Citizen(s)
↪@yumaryko
↪Back to Great Descendant Masterlist OR Wall Maria
↪Send an ask if you want to be a citizen of Paradis (taglist)!
#jean kirstein#jean kirstein x reader#jean kirschstein#jean kirschtein x reader#jean kirschtein x you#jean kirschtein imagine#jean kirschtein scenarios#porco galliard x reader#porco galliard scenario#porco galliard imagine#porco galliard x you#porco galliard#bertolt x reader#bertholdt imagines#bertholdt x reader#attack on titan bertholdt#bertolt hoover#aot x reader#aot imagines#aot x y/n#aot#snk x reader#snk imagines#snk season 4#snk
108 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey! It's my birthday! I was wondering if maybe you could write smth about Iceman surprising the reader for her birthday? Thank you!
Happy belated birthday!! I hope you had a great day! I'm sorry this is so late, but I hope you like it!😊💛
Happy Birthday!
Tom "Iceman" Kazanski x reader
Warnings: none
Masterlist.
I do my best to stifle yet another yawn as I throw up the bed cover and tuck it neatly into the corners of the frame. I remember to take great care of this action, knowing full well the consequences of having messy quarters. The air in the room is icy, it being one of the many downfalls of being stationed in some God forsaken carrier in the middle of the ocean somewhere The thin cloth of my uniform never does much to keep me warm, unlike back in training, where it used to be the bane of my existence, making me hot and sweaty every damn day I was there. As I straighten up again, I roll my shoulders and let out a huff, rubbing my hands together to generate some warmth, before going to the dresser to the side of the small room, glancing at it as I fix my hair one more time.
On the table is a calendar, each date left mostly blank, except for one, which has a small star scrawled into the space below. Normally, that would bring a smile to my face, but now it doesn't. No one really has time to celebrate a birthday these days.
Sighing, I smooth down my uniform one last time and go to leave the room, only now noticing that there is a small envelope on the floor by the door, the sender clearly having stuck it underneath the frame earlier this morning. Frowning, I pick it up and turn it over, eyeing the handwriting sceptically, only now recognising it, the neat letters unjoined and perfectly legible, spelling out my name. Turning it over again, I tear it open and pull out the letter inside, smiling as I read over the words lining the centre of the page:
(Y/n),
Happy birthday!
I'm on a patrol right now, and I know you have one, too, so come find me afterwards and we can celebrate together.
I love you,
T.
Folding the letter again, I place it in my pocket and leave the room, just catching my RIO, Jolt, as he walks past, falling into step beside him.
"Hey, (Y/n). Sleep well?" He asks as he sees me, smiling pleasantly.
"Yeah, not too bad. You?" I respond, a little disappointed at the lack of remembrance.
"It was alright." He frowns, then, saluting an officer as they walk past, "I wish they didn't have to get us up so early though, it sucks."
"Yeah, it does."
We go the rest of the way in companionable silence, only splitting up again when we reach the changing rooms. I enter the female ones, going to my locker. Opening it, I grab my helmet and pull it out, placing it on the bench behind me, taking out my flight suit, too, the buckles and straps on it clinking quietly in the silence of the room around me. Stripping off the uniform I worked hard to make smart and flawless, I fold it and put it away, pulling on the flight suit with a grimace, pulling a face at the strong odour that has long since become ingrained in the fabric thanks to hours and hours of flying in it. I tighten it around my body until it is mostly comfortable. Shrugging my shoulders, I crack my neck and grab my helmet again, checking the inside briefly before leaving the room again, going out onto the runway instead this time. Three of the others are already waiting there, Maverick and Goose amongst them, the third being another RIO; all three of them turn to look at me as they await briefing, a smile breaking out over the farmer's face.
"Cobra! Happy birthday!" He exclaims, clapping me on the back as I near them, grinning widely.
"Thanks, Mav." I smile back, happy that someone remembered, beside Iceman.
"It's your birthday today, (Y/n)? Why didn't you say so?" Goose says, looking jokingly surprised.
"I did, Goose."
"I know, I'm teasing." He winks, turning to face the changing rooms again as Jolt and the last pilot step out, "What took you boys so long?"
Neither of them reply, only coming to stand beside the rest of us as we wait for the commanders to show up. After a while, they do, briefing us before sending us off to our respective jets, the six of us climbing up into the cockpits with practiced ease. As I buckle myself in, I pull on my helmet and check the earpiece, contacting the tower to request take-off authorization. I receive it quickly, allowing me to taxi out onto the runway, waiting for the ground staff to prepare the jet for launch.
*
A groan escapes me as I stretch out my cramped muscles under the relaxing flow of the water from the shower head above me. The flight was much longer than expected, meaning that we've been sitting down for far too long. The seats of the small jets had quickly given me the cramps and aches that plague my body now, my back cracking as I straighten it properly. Massaging my temples, I wash out the shampoo that I've already lathered into my hair, my only goal now being to get out and to find Tom as quickly as possible.
I take around ten minutes to finish in the shower, going into the actual changing room to pull on my uniform, straightening it and patting it down as much as possible. I intend to make myself look as smart as possible, though my slightly hasty attempts end up appearing a little more haphazard than normal. Cursing myself, I adjust my shirt and hair, before going to leave the room, having already secured my helmet and flight suit in my locker when I first came in. Internally, I make a note to get my suit washed, seeing as it absolutely reeks, though I am well aware that I will likely forget about this very quickly, my thought process not quite focusing on my duties right now.
Leaving the changing room, I immediately turn down the corridor and start walking towards the bunk rooms, saluting and smiling at the relevant officers that pass me, a few "happy birthday"s coming from some of the aviators who know me well enough, the pilots and RIOs never stopping to say more than that. I don't think much of this, simply happy that they actually managed to remember it, considering my own RIO completely forgot. It doesn't take long for me to find Tom's room, my fist lifting to knock on the door as soon as I am in front of it, the metal ringing slightly from the impact.
It is opened swiftly, a grinning Iceman greeting me as he does so, his blue eyes glittering in the bright fluorescent lighting above us.
"Hey, baby. How's your day been?" The pilot asks me as he lets me inside, standing back from the door so I can pass him.
"Not great, honestly, but it's better...jeez, Tom, where'd you get that?" I trial off, pointing at the large cake sitting on the desk a little way away.
He chuckles, coming up and wrapping an arm around me as he replies, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"I called in a favour with one of the cooks." He shrugs, pulling me closer to him.
"That must've been a big favour." I lift an eyebrow at him, but he only smirks, taking me by the waist as he leans closer.
I suddenly find my lips occupied, his mouth moving over mine lovingly as he kisses me passionately. His hands moving to pull me into him even more, my own running up his chest to intertwine in his hair, tugging slightly on it as his grip tightens. Yanking him closer, I kiss back happily, moaning slightly as he licks at my lips, asking for entrance, which I am only too happy to grant. His tongue dips into my mouth and explores as much as he can as thoroughly as possible. At the sensation of these ministrations, I feel myself starting to get a little light headed, my knees going weak.
Eventually, we pull apart for air, a smirk instantly finding his lips again as he mutters huskily to me.
"Happy birthday, (Y/n)."
I smile back at him, kissing him once more before moving to inspect the cake, only now noticing the gifts lying beside it.
"Are they for me?" I ask in surprise, confused as to how he managed to get them onto the carrier in the first place.
"Yeah, they are." He affirms, coming to stand behind me, "Go on, you can open them."
Still shocked, I pick up the nearest one, unwrapping it to find a framed photograph of the two of us on our last day off, both of us standing on the beach looking cheerful as the sun beats down on our backs, a beach ball held between us, reminding me of the time we spent playing volleyball there. Thanking him, I set it down and pick up the second, which turns out to be purse, which I open to find a little Polaroid tucked into one of the compartments, this one portraying the two of us in a more intimate light, a blush coming to my cheeks as I recall that night. Tom sees this and laughs, before handing me the last gift, which is a box-shape. Unwrapping it, I feel my eyes widen as I catch sight of the necklace lying there.
It is fashioned to look like one of our dog tags, the writing embossed on it neat and legible, though upon closer inspection I find that it spells out both of our names and the date we first got together, a small line of three kisses adorning the bottom row. Turning to look up at him, I feel a wife smile break across my face.
"Tom, I don't know what to say…" I murmur, immensely grateful for the gifts he's given me, the pilot clearly happy with my reaction as he sweeps me up into his arms again, kissing me gently.
"Happy birthday, (Y/n)." He repeats, before pulling away and looking me in the eye, "I love you."
Blinking in surprise, I barely have time to register that my lips are moving before I'm responding.
"I love you, too!" With an ecstatic grin I throw myself into his arms, kissing him much more passionately, his arms returning to my waist as he goes to continue our actions from before, only to be interrupted by an insistent knocking on the door.
Pulling apart, I frown and look up at him.
"Who's that?" I ask him, annoyed at the distraction.
"That'll be the others." He smirks, going to open the door, pausing before he does so.
"The others?"
"What, you didn't think we'd be celebrating this by ourselves, did you?" Tom grins as he throws open the door, allowing the rest of our friends to pass inside.
223 notes
·
View notes
Text
August Contest Submission #11: Fleurs Anciennes
Words: ca. 5,000
Setting: Canon
Lemon: lime
CW: None
The sudden jolt from the train woke Elsa from her light doze. It no longer surprised her to suddenly wake from an unexpected nap, they happened often enough nowadays. Warm breath puffed against her neck. She looked down at Anna sleeping peacefully on her shoulder. Hair, having lost its bright red color to a snowy white years ago, tickled her nose and Elsa lifted a hand to caress her sister’s wrinkled cheek.
Tomorrow would be forty-five years together.
There were many things Elsa forgot over the years, the first time she used her powers, the sound of their parent’s voices, the names of the various princes who tried to court her. But she’d never forget Anna’s tearful confession that night in the library.
“I can’t do this anymore! I can’t keep pretending I only love you like a sister. I want to hold you, and kiss you, and take you to bed. If we could, I’d ask you to marry me and be by your side forever. I- I’m in love with you.”
Neither would she ever forget that first desperate, clumsy kiss, her response to Anna’s confession when words failed to move past her own lips. Now they were set to celebrate their anniversary at the Paris World’s Fair tomorrow. Yes, they would have to attend the opening celebration as Arendelle’s ceremonial ambassadors and stop by their country’s display but then the rest of the day, and the entire week afterwards, would belong to them.
Knock. Knock.
“Your Majesties, the train will be arriving in about fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, Tabatha.” Despite them both abdicating the throne fifteen years ago after Arendelle officially became a democracy, most citizens of Arendelle persisted in addressing them by their former royal title.
“Annaaaa…” Gentle shaking of her sister’s knee. “It’s time to get up.”
“Five more minutes…” faint snores
It didn’t matter if Anna was five or sixty-five, waking her up tended to be a long, slow process.
“Anna, we’re almost there.” Shake shake. “Time to wake up.” Shake.
“Ugh. Do I have to?” Anna sat up and tiredly rubbed her eyes.
“Yes, my love.” Years ago Elsa stopped trying to figure out how her sister’s hair could stand up on its own. “Turn your back towards me and I’ll fix your hair.”
“Hmmm, thank you.”
Soft lips brushed against hers in a sleepy kiss. Before Anna could pull back, Elsa stopped her with a tender touch to her cheek and deepened the kiss.
“Oh,” wide, no longer sleepy, smile, “I’m awake now.”
“Good. Now turn around.”
“Right.” Anna stole one more quick kiss then she turned to face the window.
Nimble fingers picked apart the untidy bun and smoothed down the wild locks. Elsa fastened the last pin in Anna’s hair when the train began to slow its speed.
Paris.
Though not their first time in the famous French city, they still eagerly watched people and carriages drift by on crowded streets.
Elsa’s gaze moved from the window to watch the love of her life instead.
Teal eyes moved from the window and met hers.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Elsa shrugged casually, “just enjoying the view.”
Eyes rolled but she didn’t miss the light dusting of pink on wrinkled cheeks.
Squealing brakes grew louder, signaling their final approach into the station. Shouts in French announcing, Elsa assumed since she didn’t speak the language, for all passengers to disembark for Paris could barely be heard over the hissing release of steam.
Knock. Knock.
“Come in.”
Tabatha opened the compartment’s door, curtsied respectfully, then efficiently began gathering their personal belongings.
“Kaarina and Polk are going to the luggage car.”
“I can help with the bags, Tabatha.”
“Please take your time; I will wait for you on the platform.” Another curtsy, and Tabatha, easily carrying three bags including her own, exited into the corridor.
“Or not,” Anna grumbled.
Chuckling, Elsa rubbed her sister’s back comfortingly. Not once since Tabatha took over after Gerda’s retirement did she let either of them help with even the simple tasks. Absolute horror would be the only way she could describe the look on her face the first time they offered to help. She looked about ready to burst into tears when Gerda picked up their breakfast plates and declared Tabatha should ignore them. She followed that advice ever since.
They helped each other don their respective shawls; dark blue with Arendelle’s coat of arms stitched in silver thread for Elsa and the same for Anna but in dark green.
Elsa’s eyes flicked to the compartment’s window and sighed unhappily.
This is why she preferred not to travel outside of Arendelle. Back home she could openly show affection for her sister and no one batted an eye at quick little pecks on the lips. Their relationship was an unacknowledged open secret.
Anna passed over Elsa’s ice cane and they carefully made their way off the train. On the bustling platform they were greeted by a tall man in a perfectly tailored gray suit.
“His name is Radford, he welcomes us to Paris, and will escort us to the hotel,” Anna whispered in her ear.
The only foreign language Elsa could manage with ease was English while Anna had an ear for them and could freely converse in six different languages. An immensely helpful skill over the years when they traveled outside of Arendelle.
Once Kaarina and Polk arrived, both carrying a trunk, the small party followed Radford out of the station, over the wooden footbridge leading directly to the front steps of the Grand Hotel Terminus, and to the door of their suite on the top floor.
Anna smiled as she spoke with Radford.
Still unable to understand a word being said, Elsa’s gaze wandered to the lavishly decorated hallway lit by the new electric lights. She sighed enviously. Equipping the castle with these amazing electric lights would have to be a task for the next generation in charge of the castle. She’d looked into it already; cost and logistics made it impossible at this time.
“Oui, Madam.” Radford handed Tabatha their room key.
Elsa’s attention returned to the tall man talking with her sister.
“Passe un bon séjour s'il te plaît.” He bowed deeply then walked briskly back to the elevator.
“He said for us to enjoy our stay.”
Tabatha unlocked the door and held it open for them to enter.
There were advantages to being known as the old, eccentric, spinster sisters. No one questioned them insisting on only having their own servants take care of things. Pretending to sleep in different beds, keeping a respectful distance, curbing the affectionate little touches, anything that an unknown, foreign servant might find odd didn’t matter.
Kaarina, Polk, and Tabatha walked right into the larger bedroom to deposit the luggage.
“I asked for dinner to be brought up to our room in thirty minutes. Unless you wanted to go out?”
“No.” Now in the privacy of their room, Elsa leaned her cane against a nearby wingback chair and wrapped her arms around Anna’s neck. Three weeks of foreign guests and preparations for this trip had left them with horribly little alone time together. She had no intention of squandering this time with eating out.
“Good.” Anna’s arms wrapped around Elsa’s waist and pulled her close. “An evening alone with you sounds wonderful.”
Lips brushed against hers.
“Absolutely wonderful.” The whispered words were barely audible.
“Ahem.”
Elsa turned her head to smile at Kaarina and Polk. Years of having servants walk in on them kissing ceased to cause embarrassment anymore.
“Tabatha is unpacking your trunks, Your Majesties.”
“Thank you. Enjoy your stay with your cousin…” Elsa searched her memory, “Marie, was it?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Kaarina grinned widely. “It’s been five years since we’ve seen her and the kids.”
“Have a pleasant visit. We will see you on the fourteenth.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Both bowed then hastily exited from the room.
“I guess they were eager to start their holiday,” Elsa chuckled.
“Mmmm…” Anna placed a lingering kiss on Elsa’s neck. “They aren’t the only ones.”
“Tabatha is still here.” Her cheeks warmed. Quick, little licks were added to the kisses landing on her neck. Elsa’s knees wobbled.
“There’s a spare bedroom.”
Forty-five years together and Anna was still temptation on two legs.
“N-no.” Elsa stepped back out of her sister’s arms. They were dirty from traveling all day, they didn’t have dinner yet, they were not alone… and there was an unoccupied spare bedroom.
Distraction.
They both needed a distraction.
Eyes flicked around the room. The balcony was out, the evening was still fairly chilly and she did not want to chance Anna getting ill. The dining area was also out, while beautiful with its intricately carved table and chairs, no distractions could be seen. The spare bedroom was absolutely off limits. The seating area…
She had never been so grateful to see a tiny stack of letters before.
“We have correspondence to answer.”
“Of course we do.” Anna handed Elsa her cane and they walked over to the ornate desk. “Do we need to accept any of these?”
“No.” She quickly looked through them before handing them over. Luckily, there were only four letters. Unluckily, they were certainly all in a different language, meaning Anna would have to answer them herself.
“Do I need to add anything special?” In the drawer Anna found a letter opener and began breaking the seals.
“No, just the standard declining of the invitation.”
With nothing to do while Anna wrote, Elsa wondered about the room. Electric lights glowed bright as the sun began to set. Again, she wished it were possible to equip Arendelle Castle with such technology. There was even a telephone to communicate directly with the service staff. A truly marvelous new hotel.
On the dining room table she spotted her book. Tabatha must have set it there earlier.
Elsa retrieved it and settled onto the comfortable Chesterfield, eager to read more of the new character detective Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson.
Fully immersed in the story, the knock on the door with their dinner nearly caused Elsa to drop her book.
“Careful there, don’t want to lose your place.”
“Anna!” This time she did drop her book. Elsa turned to see her sister sitting beside her. “How long have you been there?”
“About ten minutes, I guess,” she chuckled and picked up Elsa’s book. “This must be good. I’ll have to read this after you.”
“Your Majesties, dinner is served.”
“Thank you, Tabatha.” Anna handed over the ice cane and escorted Elsa, still a bit dazed from being startled from her book so suddenly, to the table.
They sat down to two plates of steamed salmon, rice, and mushrooms. Conversation flowed easily from one topic to another; the opening ceremony for the World’s Fair tomorrow (“Ugh. I don’t want to get up that early. Can we skip it?”), things they were missing in Arendelle (“Kristoff was so excited. He and Bonnie get the grandkids for two weeks!”), books they had read (“That Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde book was creepy.”), what they would like to do during their week in Paris (“Could we go to the Louvre? We missed it last time.”), and even who to extend invitations to Arendelle next (“Ariel and Eric or Belle and Adam?”).
“I have drawn your bath. Is there anything you require of me before I bid you goodnight?” Tabatha folded her hands primly in front of her, ready to fulfill any request they might have.
“No, that will be all for the night.” Elsa smiled, eager to soak in the hot water.
“Very well. Pleasant dreams, Your Majesties.” She gathered the empty plates to drop off on the way to her own room.
“Sweet dreams! Feel free to sleep in tomorrow.” Anna grinned hopefully.
Elsa rolled her eyes.
“Goodnight, Tabatha. We’ll see you early tomorrow morning.”
“What do you two have against sleep?” They both ignored Anna’s muttering though Elsa caught a slight quirk of the servant’s lips.
Tabatha bobbed a curtsy and silently left the room.
“Now,” Elsa grabbed her cane and began walking to the bathroom, “you can continue grumbling or you can join me for a bath.”
“Bath.” Footsteps hurried after her. “Definitely the bath.”
* * * * *
Elsa concentrated on keeping her balance without the aid of a cane while she dried her hair. She hummed contentedly at finally feeling clean for the first time since they left Arendelle. Getting to lay in Anna’s arms for the last fifteen minutes while the water cooled had been exactly what she needed. Travel never allowed them much privacy and they’d been traveling for four days.
Carefully, she stepped over to the counter with her cane. Elsa stopped halfway there. A full length mirror, fogged only along its edges with condensation, reflected her image back at her. Back in Arendelle, the candlelight did not shine nearly as brightly as these electric lights and every aging imperfection was perfectly illuminated in this light. Her once slim, hourglass figure now carried a bit more weight about her stomach and thighs, her breasts sagged and she now required undergarments for her clothes to fit correctly, and wrinkles were no longer confined to her face, they now covered her whole body.
She frowned.
Arms wrapped around Elsa from behind.
“Hey there, beautiful.”
“I don’t know about-“
“Ah ah ah.” Anna’s hand covered Elsa’s mouth, stopping her words. “What have I said? I will not tolerate anyone speaking badly about the woman I love even…” she removed her hand.
Elsa sighed.
“Ahem,” Anna raised an eyebrow.
“…even if that’s me.” Warmth spread at the sincerity of Anna’s smile.
“That’s right.” She placed a kiss on Elsa’s bare shoulder.
Turning around in Anna’s arms, Elsa leaned in and kissed her, taking time to slowly deepen it. Every single day this wonderful woman showed her how incredibly loved she was.
“You know…” Elsa brushed her lips along a very familiar jaw. “We’re finally alone. No foreign visitors, no servants, no responsibilities until tomorrow…”
“Hmmm…” Eyes closed.
“The bed looked quite comfortable.”
“It is time for bed.” Anna’s hands rested decidedly lower than Elsa’s waist.
Arms resting on Anna’s shoulders, Elsa pressed her firmly backwards out of the bathroom. They could get her cane later.
Much later.
* * * * *
Elsa concentrated on Anna’s whispered translation of the opening ceremony of the World’s Fair and not the engineering marvel of the Eiffel Tower towering over them. These speeches all followed the same script welcoming the politicians who supported the event, thanking the major donors by name, claiming this to be the event of the century, and all punctuated with long pauses for expected clapping. They both sat through too many of these sorts of ceremonies in their life.
Finally the last speaker invited the crowd to enjoy the World’s Fair and bowed to thunderous applause.
People around them wasted no time in standing to find their friends and not going through the entrance, this crowd didn’t seem particularly eager to join the masses of regular citizens streaming into the event.
Once the initial rush died down, they wove their way around chairs and groups of boisterous people.
“Queen Elsa! Queen Anna!” called a deep voice in English.
Two heads turned as one to see a clean shaven, silver-haired gentleman with golden spectacles hurry their way.
“Richard!” Anna hugged the man the instant he reached them.
“It is wonderful to see you ladies here.” Richard hugged Elsa next, his laughter carrying over the din of conversation.
“I didn’t expect to see you.” Why had England’s longtime Ambassador to Arendelle shown up here? Elsa knew nearly all of Europe’s monarchies refused to participate in this World’s Fair celebration of the French Revolution.
“Don’t tell Queen Victoria,” he whispered mischievously. “Mildred wanted to hear Thomas Edison’s new phonograph.”
“Where is that lovely wife of yours?” Anna looked quite serious, “someone has to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, I completely agree, Your Majesty.”
“Mildred!” Anna turned to face her best friend.
“Hello, Anna.” They hugged tightly, delighted smiles on both their faces. “How was your trip over?”
“Not too bad!” With that the two excitedly began chatting about their trips.
“You would think our wives hadn’t seen each other in months and not two weeks,” Richard whispered in Elsa’s ear.
Both shared an amused look.
Elsa watched the two best friends quickly catch up, old memories surfacing. Decades ago, Richard introduced the younger woman from town he had begun courting and the two women connected immediately. After that, Elsa no longer felt guilty the few times she and Richard needed to discuss matters of state over dinner. Anna and Mildred could, and still did, enjoy each other’s company for hours.
“Do you think they remember we’re here?” Elsa whispered back.
“Absolutely not.”
They laughed at the old shared joke.
“I think they’re laughing at us, Anna.”
“Yup. They certainly are.”
“We would never laugh at you.” Elsa tried her best to keep the smile off her face.
“Uh huh.” Anna rolled her eyes and turned her focus to Richard. “How long will you be in France?”
“Two weeks, then we return to Arendelle.”
“We’re here for a week. Maybe we can meet up for dinner one night?” Anna asked hopefully.
“I don’t think we have anything planned for Thursday, if you’re free.” Mildred stood at her husband’s side and slipped an arm through his.
“We are free.” Dinners with their closest friends were always a pleasure. “We can meet- OH!”
Something hit her side hard causing Elsa to drop her cane as she fell sideways. She closed her eyes preparing for the painful impact of hard ground.
It never came.
Relief flooded Elsa when two familiar arms caught her.
“Are you alright?”
Elsa could only nod, her heart racing from the scare.
“Good. Good.” The shaky sigh of relief told Elsa that the near-fall scared her sister, too.
Once upright, Elsa turned to see what knocked into her. On the ground lay a laughing young man reeking of wine.
“Pardon, pardon!” More laughter.
Barely nine in the morning and this stranger was already falling down drunk. Elsa held onto Anna’s arm tightly, her sister looking ready to kick the drunk man while he was still on the ground.
“Pardon!” He still giggled as he reached for the dropped cane.
“It’s okay, I can-”
“Don’t touch-“
“I wouldn’t do-“
Three voices tried to stop the man before he touched it, though Anna remained silent, her glare intense.
“Glacé!” He dropped it immediately and shook his hand. “Glacé!”
“No, no.” Richard helped the drunk man up. “Amis?”
“Quel?”
“Amis.”
“Oh.” The young man gestured vaguely behind him.
“We will take him back to his friends. Which hotel are you staying at?” Mildred asked after positioning herself at the man’s other side. It obviously would take both of them to get him anywhere.
“The Grand Hotel Terminus.” Elsa spoke up as Anna remained silent and glaring.
“We’ll meet you there before going to dinner. Does five o’clock sound fine?”
“Perfect. We will see you at five. Enjoy the World’s Fair.”
Once the three started walking over to a group of laughing and pointing people, Anna leaned down to pick up the ice cane muttering something that suspiciously sounded like ‘I should have accidentally stepped on him,’ which Elsa chose to ignore. Anna’s protectiveness, which started prior to their relationship, had not waned over the years and, honestly, neither had her own. She probably would have discreetly frozen his feet to the ground and iced his undergarments had it been Anna he knocked down.
“Here.” Anna handed her the cane.
“Thank you, my love.”
Anna smiled at the term of endearment.
Now that her sister no longer looked ready to find that young man and punch him, Elsa hooked their arms together and directed their steps to where Arendelle’s pavilion lay. She would have loved to stay and take in the Eiffel Tower but there were other days for that, distracting Anna was more important and they would have to walk right through the, reportedly, stunning garden exhibits. The gardens back home were Anna’s favorite place to be, to the point where, decades ago, the gardeners cleared an area just for her use.
“Don’t you want to-“
“Tomorrow.” She kept moving them forward. “We should start making our way over.”
“If you’re sure…”
“Mmhmm.”
They were only six meters into the garden area when Anna’s eyes widened and her head started swiveling back and forth trying to take everything in.
Even Elsa, with only a casual enjoyment of gardens, could see how breathtaking these displays were. Flowers exploded with color everywhere, tall green bushes hid the rest of the World’s Fair from view, beautifully carved fountains bubbled noisily, and butterflies could be seen fluttering from plant to plant. They strolled slowly through this second Garden of Eden without saying a word.
About halfway through the exhibit, she saw a stall down a side path and immediately decided that she needed to distract Anna so she could sneak back.
It seemed luck was on her side today.
One of the many roaming gardeners paused to prune a yellow rose bush.
“Anna, do you mind if we stop for a few minutes? There’s an empty bench here and I’m a little tired.”
“Of course,” her sister frowned. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she couldn’t help chuckling before continuing, “someone kept me up late last night.”
“That was your own fault,” Anna purred in her ear and placed a soft kiss on her cheek.
Elsa could feel her face warm up in a blush and she swallowed thickly.
“Y-y-yes. R-right.” All those years together and Anna could still fluster her with just a few words.
“Let’s get to that bench before anyone else, you seducer of younger women.”
Completely speechless and face burning with heat, Elsa silently walked with Anna to the bench.
“Wait. I’m the only one who needs to rest,” the croaky sound of her voice betrayed her continued flustered state. “Why don’t you go look at the displays?”
“Are you sure?” Anna looked torn between staying with her and examining the garden displays.
“I’ll be fine. I just need a little rest.” She sat down and patted Anna’s side. “Go. Have fun.”
“Okay.”
Elsa watched and waited.
Once her sister found herself no longer confined to the castle, her cheerful personality and eagerness to try new things helped her quickly learn the social skills they lacked after thirteen years of isolation. People naturally felt at ease around her and Anna enjoyed getting to know new people. There had been many times while Queen that Elsa used this to ease prickly meetings. They would both enter a room and before a word could be said, Kai would interrupt with a made up emergency that required Elsa’s urgent attention. By the time she returned ten minutes later, without fail, there would be smiles all around the room and the meeting would actually be productive.
It would only take Anna a few minutes to work her magic on the gardener then she’d be free to sneak away unnoticed.
Once the gardener nodded rapidly and started pointing at plants, Elsa stood and walked the two dozen steps to the side pathway spotted earlier. Another few dozen steps and Elsa reached the large wooden stall. The rich scent of chocolate filled the air and she pored over each of the five different assortment of chocolate boxes displayed. One glance at the chocolates in the purple box was all she needed.
Box purchased and tucked in the small cloth bag at her wrist, which now held a discrete enchantment to keep it cool, Elsa hurried back to the bench. She needn’t have rushed. Anna and the gardener were still deep in conversation, oblivious to their surroundings. After five more minutes, and hating to break them up, she stood and called her sister over.
“Yes, Elsa?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, however, we should be going.”
“That’s alright.” Anna linked their arms together and they resumed their walk.
“It looked like a good conversation?” If the last five minutes she saw were any indication it was.
“Yup! Gustav is a third generation gardener and came all the way from Bourges to be part of this. He was telling me…” Anna began excitedly sharing her conversation with Gustav.
Anna talked about all she learned and how that might work in her own garden while they walked. Even though she probably only understood about fifty percent of the information, Elsa still contentedly listened and asked questions.
After twenty minutes their destination came into view.
“Oh, wow.”
Elsa could only nod in agreement.
Being a small, relatively unknown nation, Arendelle had been placed behind the other well known countries. The wooden structure before them was larger than most of the buildings back home. Expertly made carvings of the native animals decorated the four doorways, the traditional design found on most buildings of crocuses, straight lines, and chevrons painted in blues and purples decorated the whitewashed walls, and teal tiles sat on the roof instead of the more common brown. Multiple tiered sections of roof with pointed spires and the small balcony over the door on which a banner of Arendelle’s time-honored crest hung, gave Elsa the impression of her Ice Palace meshed with traditional Arendelle buildings.
What took their breath away were the hundreds, if not thousands, of crocuses surrounding the building on all sides. They weren’t the common royal purple found everywhere, but the color of snow. They were so rare in Arendelle that local legend said they only grew outside of town, atop a specific hill, under an ancient tree because that was where two sisters promised each other a lifetime’s fidelity. The area could now be found on local maps as ‘The Queen’s Joy.’ Little did the town’s people know that every year Elsa and Anna would go to that hill and plant seeds harvested from those same flowers.
Tears pricked Elsa’s eyes.
“Queen Elsa! Queen Anna! You made it!” An older woman with gray hair hustled down the steps over to them.
“This is beautiful, Helga.” Elsa’s voice softened. “Thank you.”
“You both are so much a part of Arendelle and we wanted to show that.” Helga grinned, obviously happy at their awed reactions.
“I knew the committee chose the right person!” Hugs all around as they praised the Master Carpenter even more, causing her to blush.
“Thank you both for recommending me. But I do have one favor to ask of you, Queen Elsa.” Helga looked hopefully over.
“If I can grant it, I will.” She wondered what it could be.
“In the initial plans, we included elements that were to mimic your ice designs. None of the prototypes worked so we scrapped it. Do you think… maybe…”
Back when Elsa realized more and more people not from Arendelle believed the stories of her powers were just myths, she stopped using them outside of Arendelle lest they put a target on her, and thus her home, by some power-hungry nation.
Elsa looked around.
There were no visitors this far back yet. Most of the crowd had headed to The Gallery of Machines and the few walking to the pavilions certainly were visiting the massive, beautiful building Argentina built.
“Did you have something in mind?” Ideas sprung up immediately and she tried to ignore them.
“I’ll leave that to you, Your Majesty. I do have one small request though.” Helga nervously shifted from foot to foot.
“Yes?”
“Could you put your snowflake on the middle spire in front?”
“I can do that.”
“Wonderful!” Wide waving of Helga’s right arm caught her eye.
People streamed past until all thirty or so workers stood behind them.
“I suppose everyone is here now?” Apparently the movements Elsa had assumed to be work being done was actually them waiting for Helga’s signal. She heard Anna snicker beside her.
“Ahem, yes.”
“Is the area still clear?” Elsa asked loudly. Too many people surrounded her to see for herself.
Once the hum of multiple ‘yes’ responses died down, Elsa handed Anna her bag and cane.
Hands moved in a tight circle and her magic, as strong as ever, danced around her fingertips. The image of what Elsa wished for the magic to do set, she pushed her hands out sending it barreling to the building’s middle spire, she floated one hand down and the other up, coaxing the ice into shape.
Ice swirled up each of the fifteen spires, the tallest one proudly displaying Elsa’s snowflake, teal roof tiles sparkled with flecks of ice, enough to glitter in the sunlight though not enough to be dangerous should any repairs be needed. From the top of the walls down until around ten feet above the ground, flat clear ice shaped as snowflakes glinted in the sun. Now the white crocuses thickly covering the ground looked more like snow than living plants.
Satisfied with how her added decorations looked, Elsa twirled her hands once more.
“The ice should only melt when you begin taking down the pavilion.”
Silence.
More silence.
Too much silence.
Elsa began to worry.
Cheers suddenly shattered the silence.
Helga waited a full minute before shouting over the noise.
“Okay everyone, back to work!”
“Oh wow, that was amazing!”
“It’s been years since I’ve seen Queen Elsa use her powers.”
“I can’t wait to write to my husband back home about this.”
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”
“That made this whole job worth it.”
“Thank you so much, Queen Elsa. This is perfect. Though I’m sorry, I have to get back. A display board fell just before you arrived.”
“Forgive us for interrupting your work.” Anna apologized and handed Elsa back her cane and her bag.
“No need to, Your Majesties. It is always a pleasure. Besides,” she glanced back to the building, “they’re smiling now instead of looking nervous. Thank you.” Helga bobbed a curtsy and hurried back.
“I see a bench. Would you like to sit down? It was kind of a long walk.”
“Yes, I’d like that.” Despite their leisurely pace over, it had been a long walk and their commitments as Arendelle’s ceremonial ambassadors were now complete; they had nowhere else to be and a real rest sounded sublime.
“Your bag felt heavier than from this morning.” Anna commented once they sat on the bench nearby. “Please tell me you snuck in your book. I can’t wait for my turn.”
Elsa had planned to give her sister the box back in their room but here would be nice too. She pulled the cool box out of her bag and turned to face Anna.
“Are those for me?” She looked hopeful, no doubt catching a whiff of chocolate.
“Of course.” Handing the box over, Elsa could not help smiling at Anna’s excitement when opening it. Some things never changed.
“Flowers.”
Indeed they were. Twelve rose shaped, red tinted, chocolates lay on a bed of shredded paper.
Taking a quick look around and still only seeing people from Arendelle, Elsa leaned in and kissed Anna’s soft lips. Fingers tenderly caressed the back of her neck.
Every year Elsa would, without fail, give Anna flowers on their anniversary. One year an orchid lovingly cared for in a greenhouse, another year jewelry straight away deemed too special to be worn everyday, even a book of collected poetry which lived on her bedside table for the past twenty-three years… each flower-themed gift cherished beyond measure.
They reluctantly pulled apart, remembering they were outside, and snuggled comfortably together.
There would be time for more later.
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Joyful Reunion, Chapter 56
Translator: foxghost @foxghost tumblr/ko-fi1
Beta: meet-me-in-oblivion @meet-me-in-oblivion tumblr
Original by 非天夜翔 Fei Tian Ye Xiang
Masterpost | Characters, Maps & Other Reference Index
Book 2, Chapter 14 (Part 1)
By the next morning, the rain has stopped, and Duan Ling has spent the night only half asleep with a slew of thoughts making a mess in his head, somehow managing to smoothly and peacefully live to see dawn.
Everything that had happened the night prior feels like nothing more than a lifetime lived in a great long dream, and now he begins to think about how he will guarantee his own safety from now on. Lang Junxia is one of the four great assassins; in other words, he must have a martial artist of Wu Du or Chang Liujun’s calibre or higher by his side at all times. He may not be able to stay within arm’s reach, but he has to be at least within their sights.
What about when he’s at his lessons? Duan Ling’s mind quickly runs through all the possible scenarios once he starts thinking. Lang Junxia probably won’t make a move during the day; infiltrating the chancellor’s estate in broad daylight is too lofty of a goal. He’ll probably be fine as long as he’s with Wu Du at night. Then during the day, should he study with Mu Qing as before? It may be a bit risky still, but living will always involve some degree of risk.
After breakfast, Wu Du takes out a new wooden box and heads for the door. Duan Ling hurries after him.
Wu Du looks Duan Ling from the top of his head down to his toes speechlessly, and comes to realise that he’s still scared about that thing from last night.
“Where are you going? I’ll go with you.” Duan Ling takes the wooden box from Wu Du, holds it up with both hands, and looks at him expectantly.
Wu Du can only take Duan Ling along, his mind wandering as they enter the chancellor’s estate. Soon afterwards, he says quietly to Duan Ling, “You heard everything Wuluohou Mu said last night, right?”
Last night Duan Ling’s mind was entirely elsewhere, and none of his attention was on Lang Junxia’s words, but now that he thinks about it, it suddenly occurs to him that something doesn’t feel right.
“He said that a carriage from the chancellor’s estate was stopped outside,” Duan Ling says with a frown.
“Shh. If Chancellor Mu brings it up later, you don’t have to say anything. Let me explain.”
Mu Kuangda is having breakfast, and as though he knew Wu Du was going to come first thing in the morning, he bids the servants serve Wu Du and Duan Ling each a cup of tea, while Chang Liujun sits nearby polishing his sword.
Wu Du takes the box and puts it down in front of Mu Kuangda, opening it towards him. The inside is separated into nine compartments arranged in a three by three grid with a different kind of medicinal ingredient in each. Then he unfolds a sheet of yellow paper and puts that in front of Mu Kuangda also.
“Lord chancellor, the formula you gave me previously used clashing ‘cold’ and ‘heat’ ingredients, and the combination of the ingredients was bizarre. It would have been easy for any ordinary doctor to realise that it’s poisonous, thus drawing unnecessary attention. I’ve revised the formula thrice, swapping seven of the ingredients for four, and then added two others that are usually used in supplements to come up with this. I’ve given it a name — ‘Soup of Nine Souls’.”
“Very good.” Mu Kuangda asks, “What does it do?”
"It looks like it’s for placating frequent dreams, to supplement for a lack of yang energy, and beneficial to overall health. Once it’s taken, the patient will have less dreams. However, it will gradually trigger an imbalance in the heart meridian during the day. You can see the effects after three doses. The patient will be anxious all the time, plagued with worries, and in the long run it’ll wreak havoc on their ability to think clearly for years to come.
“If they in turn take medicinal decoctions for calming the mind, or heart supplements, instead of helping, it’ll give rise to drowsiness, leading to the patient wanting to sleep all the time. And if they keep doing that, it’ll gradually lead to the failure of the heart meridian. If they try to take tonics made of ingredients that trend ‘great heat’ or ‘great dryness’ such as ginseng and cistanche, their body will start to fail after a single dose. Several more of that and it’ll cause haemorrhaging from the eyes, the ears, the nose, and the mouth, leading to death.”
“Very good.” Mu Kuangda is more than satisfied. “Is there an antidote?”
“Castings of the ice silk worm and essence of the snow snake. One can make an antidote out of those two things. The steps to make such an antidote is written on the reverse side of the page.”2
Mu Kuangda reads the formula over several times, a hint of approval plain in his eyes. He nods slowly. “You really do live up to your reputation.”
Wu Du doesn’t say anything and finishes the tea.
Mu Kuangda continues, “Last night the wind was strong and the rain came violent and swift. Did you sleep well, perchance?”
Duan Ling listens between the lines and realises Mu Kuangda must already know. Lang Junxia was able to guess that Mu Kuangda would know, Wu Du also knows that Mu Kuangda knows, only Mu Kuangda himself doesn’t know that they know he knows …
All these twists and turns are truly hard on the brain, but thankfully Lang Junxia has given them that particular reminder so now they’ve gone from a passive position to a place where they can take the initiative. Though whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing is still up for debate.
Chang Liujun watches Duan Ling with smiling eyes. Duan Ling hasn’t come back from his thoughts yet, and assumes that Chang Liujun is likely just rejoicing in Wu Du’s misfortune again.
“I went to the Blossoms Pavilion last night,” Wu Du says casually, “brought the little one to broaden his horizons.”
“Oh?” But Mu Kuangda is smiling already. “Well you must have enjoyed yourselves.”
Duan Ling apprehensively recalls what Lang Junxia told them: If Mu Kuangda brings it up, just tell him the truth. And instantly several ideas flash through his head and it all becomes clear. Lang Junxia is extremely smart, actually; this way, he’s handed the initiative entirely to Wu Du. The fake crown prince wants to bring Wu Du to his side, yet Wu Du is in the enemy’s camp. So what he can do is sell this information to Mu Kuangda in exchange for his trust first, then lie in wait. He’ll be Mu Kuangda’s retainer in name, but in reality he’ll be on the crown prince and Lang Junxia’s side, becoming a double agent — a far more beneficial result.
Of course, such an arrangement is only applicable to Wu Du — because he’s true to his feelings.
“We didn’t really enjoy ourselves.” Wu Du replies, “A lot has happened in the past, and after some thinking I believe I need to give you an explanation, Lord Chancellor.”
Mu Kuangda is quiet for a moment before he nods. Smart people know exactly when to speak and when to stop. Clearly he does not need to say more.
“Lord Chancellor, I can never forget the kindness you showed me by asking for mercy on my behalf.” Wu Du says, finally, “If there’s nothing else, then please excuse me.”
But Mu Kuangda is saying. “Please wait.”
Wu Du is about to get up, but Mu Kuangda is giving Chang Liujun a glance, and Chang Liujun produces a letter.
“I may need to ask you to do something else for me,” Mu Kuangda continues, “First take a look at this letter.”
Duan Ling wants to see it, but he doesn’t dare peek — even though he’s extremely curious.
Mu Kuangda turns to him. “Wang Shan, since you’re with the young master everyday, even if you haven’t become one of my aides, your position is not far from one. There’s no need to act like you’re treading on eggshells. A young man should say what he ought to say, and not act too far beyond his years.”
Duan Ling knows that Mu Kuangda is clearly treating him as one of his own because Wu Du has declared where he stands. Duan Ling hasten to answer respectfully, “Certainly.”
Wu Du opens the letter and finds an army dispatch. There’s no address, and no signature; it contains some proof of military spending as well as weaponry held in reserve, training plans over the winter, as well as an account of using fourteen thousand and eight hundred taels of silver to purchase Ferghana3 warhorses from Xiliang.
“Can you tell whose handwriting this is?” Mu Kuangda asks.
“It’s Bian Lingbai’s handwriting.” Wu Du says, “A general stationed in Tongguan. Pacification Commissioner of Guanxi.”4
“Correct.”
Duan Ling doesn’t know who that is, so he doesn’t say anything. Why is Mu Kuangda suddenly showing Wu Du a letter? Does he want to send him to kill someone?
“Bian Lingbai has served in the army thirteen years.” Mu Kuangda says, “He started his career in Shandong5, and he’s had more than twenty military engagements with Liao, both big and small, with a mixed record of wins and losses. When the Yelüs seized Shangzi, Bian Lingbai attacked the Khitan army’s rear formation by surprise and was decorated for his service. After the capital was relocated to Xichuan, he was made Commander-in-Chief of the Shandong army. Seven years ago, he joined hands with the General of Tiger’s Might6 Han Bin, and turned against the late emperor at Mount Jiangjun to seize the military from him.”
“Kill him?” Wu Du says offhandedly.
Mu Kuangda doesn’t say anything, and takes another sip of tea. Sunlight slants though the window panes at his back.
“While the late emperor did not bother to punish those under Zhao Kui’s command,” Mu Kuangda says, “I cannot afford to do the same. This man has been colluding with Xiliang for a long time — buying horses, reinforcing his troops, increasing the size of his army without explicit approval. The proof is the letter in your hand. It’s a record of his secretly stockpiling armaments and embezzling military funds to buy warhorses from the Tangut.”
“If we don’t put an end to him now, given enough time he may prove a challenge to the central government, and become hard to control.”
When lives are involved, Mu Kuangda has always been exceedingly prudent.
“I got it. I’ll head out over the next few days.”
Duan Ling thinks, that’s not good. If you’re heading out, what am I supposed to do?
Mu Kuangda says, “In addition to killing him you must also gather proof that he’s attempting to seek independence.”
Wu Du furrows his brows slightly, and does not answer.
“Wu Du.” Mu Kuangda says, “Killing cannot be the only thing you know how to do.”
Mu Kuangda gets up and paces to the veranda. A soft summer breeze brushes by, setting the wind chimes to a light clinking.
Wu Du says, “I’ve met Bian Lingbai once. He’s a highly ambitious man. I share at least part of the blame in General Zhao’s death; he’s not about to have a pleasant conversation with me — he’s liable to pull a knife on me before we even get the chance to sit down.”
“You know how to disguise yourself, no?” Chang Liujun interjects suddenly.
"A disguise is only good for lying low. If I want to collect evidence that he’s colluding with Tangut and seeking independence, then I’ll have to talk to him. Speech, mannerisms — these are hard things to imitate for long.”
Mu Kuangda falls into a thoughtful silence.
“There is another way.” Wu Du says, “I can arrest him, interrogate the details out of him, and then hand him over to you, Lord Chancellor. Whether the testimony turns out to be a confession under duress or the truth, well that isn’t any of my business.”
“That won’t do.” Mu Kuangda shakes his head slowly. “His Majesty will spare this man’s life, that’s for certain. Even if we have conclusive evidence, he’ll be banished to a remote army post and exiled at most, leaving him the chance to make a comeback. What I want is for him to die beneath Tongguan without making a splash — not to have him killed with great fanfare, giving his army a chance to mutiny.”
“What if I go?” Duan Ling says suddenly.
The room falls quiet at once. Duan Ling knows that what he said is utterly absurd, but he has no other alternative. As soon as Wu Du leaves, his own insignificant little life may as well be a slice of meat on a chopping board, and Lang Junxia can slice him up however he likes.
“You?” Wu Du sounds like he’s just heard the most fantastical story in the world, and he says to Duan Ling, “I’m going there to kill someone!”
Mu Kuangda though, seems rather surprised. He gives Duan Ling a glance and says, “Truly, you never cease to amaze. Let him speak. See what he comes up with.”
“Um … I don’t have any concrete ideas, for now. I’ll have to get there first. It’s outside Tongguan, right? If Wu Du pretends he’s part of my … household? Maybe General Bian wouldn’t suspect me if I’m the one to approach him?”
Mu Kuangda falls quiet once more. A furrow appears between Wu Du’s brows and he’s about to speak up to stop Duan Ling, but he catches Duan Ling staring at him imploringly.
“That’s feasible.” With that reminder from Duan Ling, Mu Kuangda seems to have figured out something. “Last year, Bian Lingbai was transferred back to Tongguan from Mount Jiangjun, and it’s getting close to the anniversary of Zhao Kui’s death. What identity can you use to see him with though?”
Speaking, Mu Kuangda turns to Duan Ling, who grows somewhat fearful beneath his gaze lest he gets a eureka moment at some point and notices a hint in his features and grows suspicious. But right now he has no other option but to make this gamble, knowing that Mu Kuangda is only scrutinising him because he’s trying to come up with a suitable identity.
“You can’t be Zhao Kui’s son.” Mu Kuangda mumbles to himself. “Zhao Kui had three sons and one daughter, and they were all beheaded. What about an adoptive son? Wu Du, what do you think? Would baiting him into committing treason fish out what we want?”
Baiting him into committing treason is truly an extremely shrewd move.
“But how are we going to explain why Wu Du’s going there?” Duan Ling asks.
“That won’t be a problem. All I have to do is write a letter appointing Wu Du to investigate the whereabouts of the sword of the realm, the Zhenshanhe. Meanwhile Wu Du will use this as an opportunity to meet with Bian Lingbai. That’s all it’ll take for Bian Lingbai to believe it.”
Wu Du says, “Zhao Kui has a nephew named Zhao Rong, and his father Zhao Pu was a deputy captain of the coast guard under the Shandong jurisdiction. Zhao Pu was shot and killed by an arrow during a pirate7 raid four years ago, and Zhao Rong was captured and drowned. But not many people know that, as Zhao Kui was the only one who received news of his nephew’s death, so we can get in contact with Bian Lingbai under this name.”
“That will work.” Mu Kuangda says, “Let me think about this some more, and see if I can come up with a way that can accomplish all of our goals in one fell swoop. Go home for now, and wait for me to get everything ready.”
I do not monetise my hobby translations, but if you’d like to support my work generally or support my light novel habit, you can either buy me a coffee or commission me. This is also to note that if you see this message anywhere else than on tumblr, do come to my tumblr. It’s ad-free. ↩︎
The ingredients mentioned before these ‘ice silk worm’ and ‘snow snake’ stuff are real ingredients. The worm and snake stuff is fictional, though not new, in wuxia. ↩︎
Ferghana horse. ↩︎
Guanxi means “areas west of the gates/passes”, or areas west of Tongguan, along the western border. ↩︎
The original text used Guandong, which meant “east of the gates”, those gates being the major gates along the Great Wall such as Yubiguan. But since that’s a meaningless location that can’t be found on a map, I changed it to Shandong as that’s the area they’re referring to. ↩︎
Incidentally, this was also Zhao Yun’s nickname under Liu Bei. Historically there were three Generals of Tiger’s Might during the three kingdoms period. ↩︎
The Chinese word Wokou were often translated to Japanese pirates, and the word itself literally meant “dwarf pirates”, but the ethnicity of these pirates varied over time. You can basically think of the word wokou as simply “pirate”, in the same way that typhoon is just a word for hurricanes when they happen in the Pacific/Indian Ocean. ↩︎
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 1, Ch. 1
PART 1: WHERE IT ALL BEGAN
Chapter 1 - And so it begins
I decided to post my Charlie Weasley fanfic here ❤️
I will post a chapter per day since I have already finished writing it!
A mixture between Harry Potter Books lore and Hogwarts: Mystery Game
I just finished reading the books for the 10th time and between reading and playing the game on my mobile phone I have never been so intrigued or had so many questions about Charlie Weasley.
My imagination started to go wild halfway through The Goblet of Fire and I decided to create my own little story about how it would be like to know Charlie Weasley from his first year at Hogwarts and all the way to the Battle of Hogwarts (yes, it’s a LONG story)!
I will stop being a babbling, bumbling baboon now, bye!
Nova
I still can't believe I had to wait so long. My opinion is that if you are born after the 31st of August you are the unluckiest child ever! Imagine getting a letter of acceptance, that your parents have been waiting for since you have been born and since they are so excited about it, you get excited about it and then you turn 11 on 14th December only to find out that you have to wait until NEXT SEPTEMBER to go to school! Who came up with this rule!
Nonetheless, the wait is over as in one week I will be sitting on Hogwarts Express to go to the school my parents have been at so many years ago and have fun adventures as they so like to reminisce on how fun it was to go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“Nova, dear, we are going to be late!” My mother called for me from downstairs. I couldn't help but let out an exciting shriek that sounded like a baby Pixie, as I grabbed my favorite notebook which I took everywhere; and I mean everywhere if you were thinking about the bathroom. I loved to draw magical creatures, ever since my parents bought me Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. I inspire to be the second Newt Scamander, except that I would work in a creature reserve, rather than have one at home.
I ran downstairs into the living room, as my dad was opening a bag of Floo Powder, ready to travel to Diagon Alley! My father was a Curse Breaker for Gringotts and ever since he was assigned to Egyptian tombs, mum and I barely saw him. It meant the world to me that he could take a week off work to accompany me to my first ever trip to Diagon Alley to gather all the things that I would need for my First Year at Hogwarts! I still remember the whole list, which included several sets of plain black robes and a pointy hat among other things, with the books like the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1, for which I was so excited to start waving my wand in Charms Class, along with History of Magic and the one I already had Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them.
That reminds me! If you are asking yourself, why have we decided to leave the shopping until the last week before I had to leave on the Hogwarts Express if I got my letter in December? Well, this is a little embarrassing but I tend to be a little bit of an overachiever and if mum and dad would get me the books in December, I would probably read them all 3 times by now!
That's also the reason my mum and dad made a bet about the House I will get sorted in. My mum thinks I will be in Gryffindor, while my dad strongly disagrees and thinks I would make a perfect Ravenclaw.
As I watched my mum disappear into the green flames and my dad pushing me to go next, the excitement grew in me as I knew I was about to embark upon the best journey of my life.
“Alright, pumpkin! Are you ready? Here, there you go!” My dad gave me the bag for me to take the Floo Powder out of. “Now, speak clearly and carefully, as we practiced: Diagon Alley.”
I took the powder, stepped into our fireplace, and as I threw the powder I said loud and clear: “DIAGON ALLEY!”
The next thing I know, I was standing on a busy street next to my mum, looking up at her to see a proud face as she was trying to hold in the tears of happiness, seeing me travel by Floo Powder for my second time; the first being to visit my aunt and uncle in Scotland.
A second later, my dad appeared next to us and I finally took a look around me. It was just as they have described but busier. Perhaps waiting to get the books until the last week before school wasn't such a good idea, as it seemed that everyone did the same.
Without even asking, my parents first took me to Ollivander's as they knew I wanted my wand more than anything. My mum accompanied me into the wand shop, as my dad whispered something in her ear and hurried down the street.
“Where is dad going, mum?” She smiled at me gently. “You will see soon enough, sweetie.”
She nudged me into Ollivander's and I couldn't help but get nervous as I saw the number of boxes from black to wooden and purple to burgundy. I gasped as a man appeared right behind the counter.
“Ah, Miss Goldhorn, it is so lovely to see you again. Ebony wood, 11 inches, Dragon heartstring, very flexible. Yes, yes, I still remember.” The old man said to my mum, with sparks in his eyes.
“It's Blackwood now but the wand is still the same.” My mum smiled as she pulled out her wand and showed it to the man.
“Ah, eldest or youngest?” The man asked with a grin.
“Youngest.”
“Ah, that would be, 10 2/4 inches, Unicorn hair and very unbendable.” He said proudly as he guessed my dad's wand without even hearing his name.
“Wow, you remember that?” I was now looking at him with total amazement. I imagined myself looking at him the way I did when I saw a drawing of a Chinese Fireball for the first time.
“I remember every wand I have ever sold, Miss Blackwood. Now, shall we find one for you?” He said slowly, even though I had a feeling that he was just as excited to find me a wand as I was.
“Alright, let's see...” He said as he turned around and disappeared behind one of the shelves.
“Alder wood, Dragon heartstring, 9 inches, fairly flexible.” He opened a green box, gently taking out the wand and handing it to me. I swung it once and absolutely nothing happened. I got nervous, as I swung the wand again and again nothing whatsoever happened.
“Oh, dear.” He said as he took the wand away from me. “That one didn't like you. No worries, let us try...let's say this one!” He exclaimed as he brought the next box. This one was wooden and out he brought a smooth-looking wand that looked a bit crooked.
“Redwood, Dragon heartstring again, 11 ¾ inches, not particularly flexible. Come on dear, try it out.” He encouraged me as he put the wand in my hand. I swung this one as I did with the other one with the fear that my mum and dad will make me go to a Muggle school if nothing happens with this one. Suddenly, the nearest lamp to me broke and Mr. Ollivander was quick to take the wand away from me.
“Or perhaps not, this one doesn't seem to listen to you either.”
Again he hurried and hid behind the shelf, murmuring something to himself as I could see he was thinking hard as he was enjoying a challenge.
“Ah, I think we could get somewhere with this one!” He was so excited now that he almost jogged back to the front, a burgundy box in his hand.
“Ebony wood, Unicorn hair, 10 3/4 inches, and surprisingly swishy flexibility.”
I took the wand carefully, wishing this could be the one as I was getting quite embarrassed. I swung the wand and it gave out sparks and I got a sensation in my body as if something just connected with me.
“There we go! I had a hunch Unicorn hair would be for you!” He gently clapped his hands together as my mum, pride on her face, got closer to the counter to pay the man.
After that we spent quite some time in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions as the lady inside took measurements of me I didn't even know could be made and afterward spent almost the same amount of time in Flourish and Blotts as my mum had a hard time getting me out as I wanted to grab more than just the 8 books I needed for school.
We finally found dad as we were looking through display windows of several shops while having the tastiest ice cream from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.
As he saw us through the window, he came out of Magical Menagerie, hiding something big behind his back.
He smiled at me and showed us a big owl cage with a beautiful barn owl inside. I wanted to scream with excitement but decided not to as I didn't want to scare the owl.
“Your mother and I were thinking that you should have an owl of your own as you would have to write to me and mum while at Hogwarts.” He smiled at me and stroke my thick bluish hair.
“It's so beautiful! Can I name him?”
“Of course you can, darling!” My mum chuckled.
“Pip!” I exclaimed as I admired my new best friend. It had such deep black eyes, a white face in a shape of a heart, and the most beautiful patterns I have ever seen on its wings. I couldn't wait to draw him!
A WEEK LATER
I exhaled and inhaled deeply as I was standing in front of a wall between platforms 9 and 10, my parents one on each side of me.
“You can do it, sweetheart. Just don't run too fast.” My mum said to me softly, while dad gently squeezed my shoulder.
I took another deep breath and ran towards the wall, closing my eyes. As I opened them, I was on the Platform 9 ¾, steam running from the black and red Hogwarts Express.
We had exactly 7 minutes until the train would leave. While I was standing with my mum, admiring the train, my dad took my luggage to the luggage compartment.
“Oh, sweetheart, I wish you the best First Year at Hogwarts! I hope you will have as much fun as your dad and I had!” She kneeled to me, hugging me tightly, holding back the tears. Once she stood up, my dad came back. He hugged me softly while whispering in my ear how proud he is of me.
I hurried on the train as we heard a whistle, waving to my parents who started shouting after me: “Send us Pip to tell us in which House you were sorted!” My mum yelled. “And listen and take notes in classes!” My dad added.
I waved at them through the window until the train took a turn and I couldn't see them anymore. It was time to find an empty compartment.
I was in awe of how many students were on the train as I was almost at the end of it and couldn't find a single empty compartment. I passed a compartment with two kids arguing who is going to be a better Slytherin. A compartment with someone talking about Quidditch so enthusiastically that I couldn't believe just how fast he was talking. A compartment with 2 redheads that looked like brothers, one munching on a chocolate frog with hair so long he could put it in a short ponytail, the other one sighing while saying “Aw, another Helga Hufflepuff, I already have her.” He had so many freckles on his face that it was tough to define his skin tone.
I finally stopped in front of a compartment as a girl with pink hair caught my eye. She was sitting and conversing with 2 other girls and it looked like they were having a nice time. I slowly opened the compartment, cleared my throat, and asked if I could join them. To my surprise, they were more than thrilled to have me join and I was a little relieved that I finally found somewhere to sit as I sat down next to a girl with blond hair.
“Wotcher, my name is Tonks, nice to meetcha!” The pink girl said, grinning at me.
“I'm, Penny. Very nice to meet you.” Said the blond girl next to me, with a polite voice as she smiled at me.
“And I'm Tulip, Tulip Karasu.” Said the redhead as she extended her hand to me.
“Blimey, if I knew we were going into such details I would've said more!” Tonks said while Tulip and Penny chuckled. “Nymphadora Tonks, a Metamorphmagus at your service! And you better call me Tonks as I swear my parents are paying every single day for naming me that way!” The girl with the pink hair said. The other 2 chuckled again.
“They are paying for it?” I asked, puzzled.
“Ah yes, I prank them all the time and I am as mischievous as I possibly can be!” Said Tonks, proudly.
“Just because of your name?” I asked. She nodded in confirmation. I already liked her, even though I had no reason for not behaving around my parents, but I liked her energy.
“And if we are introducing each other with the full name, I am Penny Haywood, half-blood and proud of my dad being a muggle.” She said with the biggest smile I have ever seen anyone admit that they are not a Pure Blood.
“Blimey, I don't know how to introduce myself.” Said Tonks a bit disappointed that Penny added a new thing to learn about each other.
“Oh, I have an idea. How about we go in a circle and each of us says a sentence about ourselves. That way we can get to know each other and can give each other ideas about what the others haven't said yet!” Tulip said, quite proud of her idea.
“Yes, let's do that and let her start since we don't even know her name.” Tonks said while nodding her head at me.
“Alright, well. My name is Nova Blackwood, I am a Pure Blood. My mum is an Auror and my dad is a Curse Breaker in Egypt.”
“Wicked!” Tulip and Tonks said at the same time.
“That sounds like a dangerous but very fun position.” Said Penny thoughtfully.
“It's obvious that Penny's hair is naturally blond and I think that's Tulip's natural hair but may I ask why is your hair blue?” Tonks asked bluntly.
“Yeah, I was wondering that as well!” Said Tulip excited as if Tonks was reading her mind and then adding “And my hair is naturally red, yes.”
“Well, it's quite a funny story.” I started, chuckling. “When my mum was pregnant, my aunt from Scotland tried to dye my mum's hair dark blue. She is a very clumsy woman and as my mum was talking right before my aunt cast the spell, my aunt tripped looking at her instead of where she pointed her wand at, and as she cast the spell she pointed it at my mum's belly. They thought nothing of it since they thought the spell didn't work. However, when I was born and my dad had a puzzled look on his face as I came out with this hair color,” I pointed at my dark bluish grey hair, “my mum knew exactly where I got it from.
They asked the nurses and they did tests on me however they couldn't figure out how to reverse the spell so that my hair would be brown like my parents' so they eventually gave up as the hair color grew on them, naming me Nova after the supernova explosion since the color of the explosion tends to be blue sometimes.” I said, finishing my story.
“Wicked!” Said Tulip and Tonks together again.
“That has to be the most beautiful story I have ever heard.” Breathed Penny, looking as if she was ready to cry.
“Thank you?” I said as I didn't know what to say as I tell the same story to anyone who asks me.
“My turn!” Shouted Tonks. “Well, you know my name already. My father is a Muggle-born as well, mum's a witch from the Black family line. Don't like to talk about it too much. My hair's pink because as I said I am a Methamorphmagus and I can turn it whichever color I want. And I can also do this!” She said excitedly as her nose turned to that of an elephant.
We all stared at her in awe, clapping as if we have just seen an amazing performance.
“Well, I am a Pure Blood too. Mum works in Diagon Alley and my dad works for the Ministry: The Department of Mysteries so you can guess, I have no idea what his work is. And since we are talking about hair, I have it after my mum, she has hair just like mine.” She said grinning.
“Tonks said that she doesn't want to talk about her parents but Penny you were really happy to announce that your dad is a Muggle. Can you tell us something more, I have no knowledge of Muggles.” I said with an interest in my voice.
“Well, my mum is a Potioneer, selling her potions to pharmacies and other buyers, my dad however is a writer.
Since my mum and I are witches, he is quite successful as he writes children's novels mum giving him false information about Magic folk for him to write about, since she, you know, can't tell the truth because of the Statute of Secrecy but my dad loves it anyways and envies us that he can't clean the dishes with his wand.
I also have a younger sister named Beatrice who can be quite annoying but I love her all the same. Having a Muggle dad is interesting as there is always something mum has to explain to him but as he is always fascinated by it, it works out quite alright. And all my family including both sides of my grandparents have this kind of blond hair so I guess it runs in the family.” She chuckled after finishing the last sentence.
“Sorry to bother you ladies,” our compartment opened and a girl who looked like a Head Girl put her head in, “we will be arriving shortly, so I suggest you put your robes on. Also, I assume you are all First Years, meaning that you will want to find a rather large man when you exit the train as First Years make their way up to the Castle in a bit of a different way.” She said, giving us a friendly smile.
“So, which House do you think you'll be sorted in?” Asked Penny while we were all changing into our robes. “I don't care as long as I can have all the Potion Classes that I can get.” She added enthusiastically.
“Hmm, didn't put that much thought into it.” Said Tonks, frowning as she started to think about it.
“My parents were in the same year, but my mum was in Gryffindor and my dad was in Ravenclaw, so we'll see. They did make a bet in which House I'll be as they are both rooting for their own House.” I said as I buttoned my final button on my shirt.
“You know what?” Finally said, Tulip. “I like you lot, I would be very happy to be in the same House as all of you.” We all smiled at her as we realized that we would all like that very much.
#harry potter hogwarts mystery#hp#harry potter fanfiction#hphm mc#harry potter hogwarts game#hp hogwarts mystery#hphm charlie#charlie weasley#charlie weasley fanfiction#hphm#hogwarts mystery mc#the weasleys#hphm tonks#hphm fandom#hphm au#hphm characters#hphm fanfiction#hphm tulip#hphm penny#bill weasley#weasley family#weasley fanfiction#ron weasley
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ronarry Headcanons: Developing futures
Read on FFN. Read on AO3.
Summary: In our final installment, Harry's feelings for Ron begin to change things between them. Leading to a school year that is already very complicated to begin with.
Tagging: @vivithefolle @overmelted @booigi-boi
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Harry Potter was asleep, his glasses askew against the window he had been leaning against.
He had been staring out the window, waiting for Dumbledore to turn up. However, in the summer heat, he had dozed off.
A couple of houses over, someone’s lawnmower got caught on a rock, and the resulting noise promptly woke Harry up.
Wiping the drool from his face, he checked the time. He still had a few minutes until Dumbledore said he’d be there. Harry had packed all his things together, ready for the off.
As often happened these days, Harry’s mind wandered to what Ron might be doing. Harry was due to stay at The Burrow that summer, after Dumbledore had collected him. With a bit of luck, Harry should be seeing his redheaded best mate within a few hours.
That last thought gave Harry a funny feeling in his stomach that he had long since stopped ignoring.
Yes, as if his life wasn’t complicated enough as it was, Harry had fallen for his best friend. The redheaded, funny, loyal boy who had been there for Harry ever since the first day at Hogwarts.
Needless to say, things had gotten rather confused in Harry’s head. On the one hand, he loved being around Ron, but -on the other hand- every moment around Ron gave him a strange sense of sadness. Because he doubted Ron would ever see him in the same way.
After all, Ron probably fancied Hermione. This has been evident since second year, but it had become noticeably obvious in the past couple of years. It was actually surprising that Hermione and Ron hadn’t gotten together yet, considering how obvious Hermione’s feelings for Ron were.
‘Ah, how lovely to see you again, Petunia…’
Dumbledore’s voice carried up the stairs. Harry leapt out of his room, and scrambled down the stairs.
‘I trust Harry informed you of my visit?’
Petunia Dursley glared up the stairs at Harry.
‘I take it that Harry did not inform you,’ Dumbledore continued, his beard twitching with suppressed mirth. ‘But no matter; let us assume you have invited me warmly into your home.’
Dumbledore breezed past Petunia and Vernon into the sitting room. Harry let out a groan, and followed.
This was going to be fun.
~~~~~
Well, it could have been worse. Harry didn’t think much of apparation, to be honest, and Horace Slughorn was a bit… odd.
But Harry was now at the Burrow. His heart leapt as he stared up at the familiar building; Ron was in there, and Mrs Weasley, who cooked better than anyone Harry knew.
He would have preferred not hearing about what Mr and Mrs Weasley got up to in private, but the soup was good. And it was nice to see Tonks again, even if it was very briefly. Why did she look so sad, though?
Harry woke up the next morning to Ron tapping him lightly on the side of the head. There were worse ways to wake up.
‘Mate! We didn’t think you’d be here for another few days!’
Harry smiled, as the redhead grinned down at him. Ron’s arms were covered in the scars he had gotten from the brains at the ministry. They worked their way up his skin, like dark-red tendrils. Over the summer, they had become a lot less harsh to look at, and Harry had to admit that Ron looked pretty bad-arse. Especially considering that he had got the scars whilst pushing Harry out of harm’s way.
He didn’t have much time to reflect on this, though, because Fleur had appeared, carrying a large tray of breakfast food. Ron’s face went strangely lopsided, as if he was trying not to stare.
‘It ‘as been so long, ‘Harry!’ Fleur exclaimed, putting the tray down on Harry’s lap.
‘Nice to see you too, Fleur,’ Harry said, feeling slightly awkward that she was seeing him in his pyjamas. ‘Congratulations to you and Bill, by the way!’
‘You are too kind!’ Fleur smiled, cheerily, the ring on her finger glinting in the morning sun. ‘Although it is a shame ‘e is not ‘ere. ‘E works ‘imself too ‘ard!’
‘I was bringing Harry’s food up to him,’ Mrs Weasley said, poking her head through the door.
‘It is no problem,’ Fleur replied, still smiling. ‘Nice to see you again, ‘Arry!’
Fleur and Mrs Weasley left the room, and the door closed shut behind them.
Ron began to shake his head, as if trying to get water out of his ears.
‘You okay, mate?’
‘Yeah,’ Ron mumbled, his ears turning pink. ‘It’s just a bit difficult when she appears out of nowhere like that. I know she doesn’t mean to do it, but still…’
‘It’s pathetic!’
Hermione stormed away, and stood nearby the window. Ron looked embarrassed and more than a little hurt.
‘Don’t worry about it, mate,’ Harry said. ‘Most blokes get affected by Fleur’s powers; I’m sure she understands that you can’t help it.’
Ron smiled.
A little while later, everyone was sat in the kitchen. Hermione had accidentally gotten punched by a telescope designed by the twins, and was now sporting a large black mark around one of her eyes. Harry had to admit that she looked funny, but Ron was helping Mrs Weasley try to fix it, so he kept his mouth shut.
‘You’re sure no owls have arrived this morning, Mrs Weasley?’ Hermione fretted.
‘Yes, dear, I’m sure,’ Mrs Weasley said, patiently. ‘Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll all do brilliantly.’
When Hermione saw the owls appear on the horizon through the open kitchen window, she shrieked, and grabbed both Harry and Ron painfully around the elbows. Harry pulled away, rubbing his arm, but Ron didn’t move.
Harry squashed the irritation that briefly bubbled in his stomach, and focused on opening his letter. He had received an ‘Outstanding’ in Defence Against The Dark Arts, as well as Charms. His ‘Dreadful’ in History Of Magic was understandable, given that he’d collapsed half way through the examination, and he had also received a ‘Poor’ in Divination. But he had passed everything else!
‘Swap?’ Ron asked, softly.
Harry nodded, and they exchanged letters.
Harry stared at Ron’s results; he had gotten an ‘O’ in both Charms and Transfiguration, no doubt due to his breaking of Gamps Law during his practical exam.
He had also passed History of Magic, and even Divination.
‘Awww, mate,’ Ron said, sympathetically, as he looked at Harry’s results. ‘Nevermind about Divination and History of Magic, eh.’
‘Well, I did fall asleep in the exam,’ Harry chuckled. ‘Don’t worry about that; congrats, Ron!’
Ron’s ears went slightly pink as he grinned. However, he then noticed Hermione standing quietly by herself.
‘Hermione? How did you do?’ Ginny asked, tentatively.
‘I- not bad.’
‘Oh, give it here,’ Ron said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed Hermione’s letter. ‘Yep; thought so. Nine ‘Outstanding’s and one ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Defence Against The Dark Arts.’ He grinned knowingly at Hermione. ‘Don’t tell me you’re disappointed?’
Hermione giggled, as she grinned up at Ron.
Harry turned away, once again feeling the bubbling of irritation in his stomach and hating himself for it. Just because he fancied Ron, that didn’t mean he had exclusive rights to the redhead. Even if he did get angry whenever he saw Hermione grinning at Ron like that.
~~~~~~~~~~
A few days later, the book lists arrived, and Harry discovered that he had been made Quidditch Captain.
‘Hey, you can now use our Prefects bathroom!’ Ron exclaimed, happily.
Harry felt his cheeks burn, as his mind rapidly constructed an image of sharing a bath with Ron.
Hermione noticed this, and glowered.
~~~~~~~~
Diagon Alley was an event as always. The twins shop was amazing, but Harry was most surprised about the behaviour of Draco Malfoy. After he, Ron and Hermione had snuck away under the cloak and done some sleuthing, Harry came to a conclusion.
‘He’s replaced his father as a death eater.’
Ron and Hermione shared doubtful looks.
‘Harry, that’s ridiculous, he’s sixteen-’
‘That’s exactly why he’s done it; Malfoy still goes to Hogwarts, after all. Voldemort must be hatching some sort of plan.’
‘I dunno, mate,’ Ron said, gently. ‘It does seem a little extreme. Remember when we thought he was the heir of Slytherin?’
‘That was different,’ Harry went on, stubbornly. ‘He’s actually got death eater pals now.’
For the next few weeks, Harry dwelled on this. What plans was Voldemort concocting this year, and what part did Malfoy have to play? Neither Ron and Hermione seemed to believe him, but Harry could half-understand their doubts. After all, they had thought Malfoy was in league with dark forces many times in the past, and he never had been.
~~~~~
1st September swung round, and -before Harry knew it- Ron and Hermione had gone off to the prefect carriage. Ginny had also disappeared off to find Dean Thomas, but Neville had appeared shortly afterwards. Glad to find a friendly face, Harry followed Neville through the train, and found Luna sat in an otherwise-empty compartment.
Harry sat down, feeling a bit miserable without Ron.
‘Are we going to continue the DA this year?’
‘No point now, is there? Since we got rid of Umbridge.’
‘Oh, no!’ Neville said. ‘I loved going to the meetings! I learned loads from you!’
‘Yes, me too,’ Luna added. ‘I loved the meetings; it was like having friends.’
‘We are your friends, Luna,’ Harry said, earnestly.
‘That’s a very nice thing to say!’ The blonde Ravenclaw chirped.
‘Hi, Harry.’
It was Cho Chang.
‘Oh, hi.’
‘Do you mind if I sit in her with you three?’
Harry shook his head, and Cho sat down next to him.
‘Er, this is Neville and Luna.’
‘Yes, I remember you two from the DA. Are we still having meetings this year?’
Harry was just about to reply that they probably weren’t, when the door of the carriage opened again, and a scared-looking third year poked their head in.
Both Neville and Harry made their way to Slughorn’s compartment; the place was packed with various people, including Ginny, who looked confused as to why she was there.
Glad of a friendly face, Harry and Neville sat down next to her.
‘Harry, m’boy!’ Slughorn exclaimed, cheerfully. ‘Thank you for coming along!’
As Slughorn introduced his various other guests, Harry had a dawning realisation that virtually everyone in the carriage had famous relatives or had something promising about them.
Cormac McLaggen, a Gryffindor seventh-year with a rather entitled attitude, started leering at Ginny. But -before Ginny could display her famous bat bogey hex again- an announcement echoed through the train, stating that they would be arriving at Hogsmeade Station shortly.
~~~~~
Looking back on it, hiding in Malfoy’s compartment under the invisibility cloak was a bad idea. Especially after the Slytherin had cast a full-body-lock curse on him, and then -to add insult to injury- stamped down on his nose.
Tonks mercifully managed to rescue Harry before the train had got very far, and she walked with him back to Hogwarts.
After getting a bunch of snide comments from Snape, Harry entered the Great Hall, and sat down beside Ron and Hermione. Both of them were clearly worried, especially about Harry’s broken nose, although Harry couldn’t help noticing how relieved Ron looked as Harry had appeared next to him.
~~~~~~~
During the first Potions lesson with Slughorn (yes, that had been a shock; Harry was still angry at Dumbledore for giving Snape the Defence position), Harry had gotten the distinct impression that Slughorn had been ignoring Ron.
This was then confirmed when the new Potions master bumped into them in the entrance hall the next day. Slughorn was organising a party for his “favourites”, and had given invitations to Harry and Hermione. Paying Ron as much attention as he would to a cockroach cluster, Slughorn ambled off.
‘Do you think we’ll know anyone else at this party?’ Hermione wondered aloud.
‘Don’t worry. I expect Ginny will have been invited too,’ Ron said, sounding hurt.
Harry found himself wanting to scream. How on earth could he possibly explain that he wouldn’t go a single party if it meant he couldn’t hang out with Ron?
To add to this turbulent atmosphere, Hermione was now getting progressively more irritated with Harry’s prowess in Potions class thanks to the Half-Blood Prince’s book. She spent most lessons glaring angrily at the book as if it had personally wronged her.
Eventually, he got so sick of her griping that he asked Ron if they could do an unofficial Quidditch practice that evening. Ron cheered up quite a bit, although Hermione did not look amused.
Deciding that Ron’s need to feel included was more important than Hermione’s need to be top of every class, Harry ignored her.
~~~~~~
After one especially difficult Quidditch session (during which Ron had accidentally thrown the Quaffle into one of the chasers mouths), Harry and Ron found themselves the last to leave the changing rooms.
‘Merlin, I wish I wasn’t so bad at this,’ Ron muttered, miserably.
‘Don’t be daft; you’re the king, remember?’ Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder. ‘It’s just nerves; you’ll be fine after the first match!’
Ron gazed down at Harry through his eyelashes.
‘You really think so?’
‘Course! You’re a brilliant player!’
Harry kept this relentlessly supportive tone up throughout their walk back to the castle and, by the time they drew near to Gryffindor Tower, Ron looked in a much better mood.
Unfortunately, their usual shortcut was not empty; Ginny and Dean were snogging in the passageway. After Dean made a hasty exit, Ginny and Ron had started arguing.
‘Hermione snogged Krum!’ Ginny yelled, angrily. ‘It’s only you who seems to think it’s disgusting, and that’s because you have about as much experience as a twelve year old!’
Ron stared at her.
‘Yeah, I guess I do,’ he said, quietly, before leaving.
‘What the hell, Ginny?’ Harry exclaimed, as he hurried after Ron. ‘You know what’s he like about Hermione; why did you have to go and tell him… oh, forget it…’
Harry hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, running full pelt. He knew Ginny hadn’t meant to be so harsh; she had simply said it during a moment of anger. Hopefully, she and Ron would make things up within the next few days, but Harry still felt put-out by it. He knew he had no leg to stand on when it came to dealing with emotions, after all. But that didn’t make him any less worried.
Upon reaching the boys dormitory, Harry discovered that the curtains on Ron’s four poster were drawn.
‘Ron?’
There was a non-committal grunt.
Harry pulled back the curtains. Ron was sat up in bed, his legs pulled up to his torso. His blue eyes were slightly bloodshot.
‘You okay?’
Ron shrugged.
‘Dunno. I mean… I knew Krum was always into Hermione, but I never thought they’d ever… she just said they were penpals…’
‘I guess she thought you wouldn’t want to know. I mean, kissing probably isn’t that big a deal. Although I wouldn’t know, since I’ve never kissed anyone.’
Ron looked at Harry, his blue eyes sad.
Without thinking, Harry leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ron’s. He felt the redhead startle slightly, but he did not break away. Slowly, Ron relaxed and, much to Harry’s astonishment, began to kiss him back.
Harry wished he could stay in that moment forever.
~~~~~~
Nothing much changed. Harry had half-hoped that maybe things would, but he understood that things were changing enough as it was.
And it was definitely comforting, to know that he could kiss Ron without worrying about further ramifications.
Hermione was understandably shocked, and -although she would never admit it- upset. Harry did feel somewhat guilty, but they had both made it clear to her that they were not a couple. Simply that it was a comfort thing. Ron never found it easy to discuss this with Hermione, and Harry heard the continuing nagging in his head about why that was.
Hermione did seem somewhat colder to Ron in the following weeks. Ron was understandably rather upset by this, but Harry guessed why Hermione was acting this way. It was possible she saw that Ron was only attracted to men, a situation which Harry himself did not immediately agree with. For the simple reason that he had seen the looks Ron gave Hermione when he thought she wasn’t looking; the little soft glances and quiet stares that removed any doubt as to Ron being purely gay.
~~~~~~~
‘Harry, m’lad!’ Slughorn said, breaking Harry out of his concentration. ‘I’ve got a little Christmas party coming up, and I’ve cleared it with McGonagall and Hooch.’
Harry smiled uneasily. He had deliberately re-scheduling Quidditch practices whenever Slughorn had a party, so that Ron didn’t feel excluded.
‘The Quidditch season doesn’t reconvene after Christmas, so I expect you -and a partner, if you like- at the party! Bit of festive cheer is what you need! let me guess? Lovesickness?’
Harry felt himself blush, and avoided looking at Ron. Slughorn didn’t notice, and instead grinned.
‘It’s Christmas Eve at nine pm sharp! Hope you enjoy yourself!’
Later that evening, Harry was getting on with his Charms homework when…
‘So… Slughorn’s party, eh?’
Ron had sat down next to him. Harry felt his face burn again.
‘E-er, yeah. Might go along; don’t really have an excuse not to.’
‘W-well…’ Ron stammered, his ears turning red. ‘I… I could come along… I mean, if you want me to? That way we can have a laugh about it.’
‘Y-yeah, that… that’d be great,’ Harry grinned, nervously. ‘You sure you want to?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Great.’
~~~~~~~~
Any worries that Harry might have had promptly disappeared just before they left for the party. Ron looked very handsome in the robes the twins had bought him the previous year.
‘Wow,’ Harry breathed.
‘Do… Do I look okay?’ Ron asked, nervously.
‘I think you look brilliant, mate.’
Ron’s ears turned pink.
‘Thanks. Shall… shall we get going, then?’
Harry nodded, and the two of them left for the party. Slughorn’s office had been magically expanded to several times its usual size.
‘Is Hermione here yet, you reckon?’
‘No,’ Harry said. ‘She said she wasn’t coming tonight.’
‘Oh,’ Ron said, looking a bit disappointed. Harry tried not to think too hard about that.
The two of them swept onto the dancefloor, and swayed to the music playing. Harry’s heart beat happily at the feeling of Ron’s hand on his waist, and his enveloping Ron scent.
Harry had to sneak off at one point, so he could overhear what Malfoy and Snape were talking about, but his thoughts were taken off that serious worry when he returned to Ron. The two of them had another dance.
As they arrived back at the boys’ dorm, Ron turned to Harry.
‘I had a really great time, mate.’
Without warning, Ron leaned down and kissed Harry on the lips. Nothing intense, but sweet and chaste. Harry’s stomach flipped over. They stayed like that for a while, but Harry wished it would never end.
As he lay in bed, his mind still full of the kiss they had just shared, Harry continued to wonder about things. He and Ron weren’t dating, but things between them certainly weren’t platonic. What… what was this between them?
~~~~~~
This confusion would be resolved somewhat, as Harry found himself staring down at an unconscious Ron in Slughorn’s office, having just narrowly saved Ron from poison.
He clutched at the front of Ron’s pyjamas, feeling his eyes fog with tears. He had come so close to losing Ron again. And this time it had been caused by the love potion-infused chocolate that had been given to Harry by Romilda Vane months ago.
This had been his fault.
Harry didn’t speak much for the rest of the day. He had stood outside the hospital wing with Ginny and Luna, until Hermione -who looked as scared as Harry- had arrived a little while later. Ginny and Luna had discussed the various possibilities of how the poison had ended up in Slughorn’s office.
Harry and Hermione said nothing. Both of them seemed unable to speak, and simply stared intensely at the huge oak doors of the hospital wing.
Several hours later, Madam Pomfrey opened the doors.
‘Mr Weasley is resting,’ she said, before any of them could speak. ‘You may all sit nearby him for a while. I have sent an owl to Arthur and Molly, and they should be on their way here soon.’
The four students hurried into the ward, over to the only occupied bed.
Ron was asleep, his chest rising and sinking softly under the covers.
Harry let out a deep sigh of relief, and -next to him- Hermione did too.
About twenty minutes later (although time seem to have stopped working normally in Harry’s head), Molly and Arthur burst into the room.
Molly immediately burst into tears, and pressed a motherly kiss to Ron’s cheek. Arthur put his arms around Ginny, hugging his daughter and patting her head.
Molly then turned to Harry, who flinched. But the Weasley matriarch pulled him into a tight hug.
‘Thank you,’ Molly sobbed. ‘You’ve saved Ginny, you’ve saved Arthur, now you’ve saved Ron…’
‘Half our family do seem to owe you their lives, now that I think about it.’ Arthur said, quietly. ‘Madam Pomfrey says that, if you hadn’t been there…’
Harry didn’t speak, not trusting himself to keep from crying.
‘Speaking of which,’ Ginny said, ‘It’s all very odd, isn’t it. It was a poisoned bottle that Ron drank from; if whoever planted it was after Dumbledore, they didn’t know Slughorn very well.’
‘That makes it worse, doesn’t it.’
Hermione had spoken. Her quivery voice sounded like Harry felt, and he remembered that he wasn’t the only person in the room who couldn’t bare a world without Ron.
‘Y-yeah,’ Harry said. ‘This person -whoever they are- doesn’t care who they hurt.’
Hermione nodded.
There was a mumbling noise from the bed. They all looked round.
‘A-ree,’ mumbled Ron, still very much asleep. ‘Er-my-nee…’
They all stared at Ron for a while, but he continued to mumble incomprehensibly in his sleep, before going silent.
Interesting, Harry thought, and his heart began to hope.
~~~~~~
Harry had gotten the memory from Slughorn. Despite having had no sleep that night, he was feeling surprisingly cheerful.
‘Well, it wasn’t a good night for everyone,’ Hermione continued, matter-of-factly. ‘Ginny broke up with Dean.’
Harry looked down the table; Dean was sat, looking rather miserable, with Seamus.
‘Any reason why?’
‘Oh, something silly,’ Hermione responded. ‘Apparently, he wouldn’t let her climb through the portrait hole by herself.’
‘Ah.’
A shrewd look came over Hermione’s face.
‘Harry, you didn’t cause this, did you?’
‘Not intentionally!’ Harry exclaimed. ‘It was when I was going to get the memory off Slughorn; I must have accidentally nudged against Ginny when I was leaving the common room.’
‘Do you think that was the effect of the Felix?’
Harry shrugged.
‘Ginny not turning up to breakfast, I take it?’
‘No,’ said Luna, who happened to be passing. ‘She said she’d rather sit down by the lake; I’m taking her some toast now.’
Harry and Ron shared a knowing look as Luna left the hall.
‘Well, that explains some things, doesn’t it…’
‘What?’ Hermione asked, looking confused.
‘You know…Ginny and Luna…’
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise.
‘You mean… the two of them… together? Gosh, I never even noticed.’
‘Brightest witch of her age, ladies and gentlemen,’ Harry cheeked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, as Ron laughed fondly.
~~~~~~~
Harry had missed the final Quidditch match of the season. He had been stuck in detention with Snape, after using a spell he had read in the Half Blood Prince’s book on Malfoy. Well, Malfoy had been trying to use Crucio on Harry at the time, but Harry had never meant to cause such harm.
Upon finishing his detention (the first of many, according to Snape), he had dashed back to Gryffindor Tower, where he hurriedly told the password, hoping for some hint as to the result of the match.
‘You’ll see.’ The Fat Lady said, her expression frustratingly neutral.
The portrait creaked open, and a cacophony of noise erupted through the hole. Scrambling through, Harry discovered the entirety of Gryffindor House in rampant and joyous celebration.
‘We won, Harry; we won!’ Ron declared, brandishing the Quidditch Cup above his head.
Ron’s eyes were wide with happiness, and he ran towards Harry. He threw his arms around the shorter boy, lifting Harry off his feet.
And, without planning it, without considering that fifty people were watching them, Harry kissed him.
There was a very pregnant silence. Harry and Ron -both blushing furiously- broke apart.
Fifty pairs of eyes watched them. Suddenly, there was a wolf-whistle from the back of the room, and an outbreak of nervous giggling.
Ginny was beaming happily, hand-in-hand with Luna, while Dean and Seamus were giving Harry the thumbs up.
Hermione was stood a little way away, and her mouth had fallen open.
‘H-Hermione?’ Ron stammered.
The bushy-haired witch walked over, grabbed Ron by the front of his robes, and promptly pressed her lips to his.
The common room –as one- goggled, as Ron and Hermione did little aside from press closer together.
Then-
‘Oy!’ Harry said, and his two friends broke apart, blushing furiously.
Luna let out a giggle.
~~~~~~~~
A little while later, Harry and Ron were nervously stood in their dormitory.
‘Harry?’
‘Y-yeah?’
‘A-are we… you know…’
There was a very long pause, as Harry’s mind swam with emotions.
‘I… I…’
‘Because… I…’
‘W-what?’ Harry stammered.
‘It’s just… and with Hermione…’
Harry felt his stomach turn to ice. Ron seemed to realise what he had just said, and hurriedly continued
‘But with you as well… I… I’m so confused…’
Oh.
That wasn’t so bad.
‘Ron… do you… you know… like me?’
Ron looked at Harry, his ears pink.
‘Y-yeah. I do. Not just as a friend, either.’
‘I… I feel the same way about you.’
Ron smiled, before kissing Harry softly. Which Harry was enjoying more and more with every time it happened.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Unfortunately, things got progressively worse from that point onwards.
Dumbledore was dead. There was a war to be fought, and Harry had never felt more alone in his life.
Ron was helping Hermione out of her chair, the bushy-haired witch crying into his shoulder as he did so.
When they reached him, Hermione pulled away from Ron, looking guiltily at Harry. But Harry felt no jealousy.
Ron reached out, and pulled Harry into a hug.
As the carriages arrived at the castle, Harry looked up at Hogwarts Castle, wondering if he’d ever see it again.
‘What are you going to do, Harry?’
‘Well, I’m going to go back to the Dursleys. Just one last time; I think it’s what Dumbledore would have wanted.’
‘And after that?’
‘I’m gonna track down the remaining Horcruxes. But –before that- I think I need to visit Godric’s Hollow. That’s where it all started. And if I meet Snape along the way; so much the worse for him.’
‘Fair enough,’ Ron said. ‘But you’re still coming round to the Burrow this summer.’
‘Why?’
‘Bill and Fleur’s wedding, of course!’
Harry grinned. The fact that something so wonderfully ordinary as a wedding could still happen was wonderful.
‘C’mon, mates; time to get moving.’
Ron put his arms around Harry and Hermione’s shoulders, and the three of them walked down the path towards the carriages.
Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay. Harry leaned into Ron’s side, and the redhead hugged him tighter with his arm, pressing a kiss to the top of Harry’s head.
Things might not be alright now, but they would be. He had Ron. And that was good enough. More than good enough.
The End
~~~~~~~~~
Thanks for reading through to the end, everyone! Hope you liked this concluding chapter!
I know I originally said I was going to continue throughout all the books, but I honesty don't think I could have kept Harry and Ron apart for another year without it seeming artificial. I was worried I would end up getting bored of writing this series, and not giving it the proper treatment it deserves. Hence why we are ending this story here instead of extending it into 'Deathly Hallows' territory.
Thank you all so much for the amazing comments you've given throughout the publication of this series, and it means so much to me that people are enjoying my retelling of the series in this AU! :)
#ronarry#harron#rarry#ron x harry#harry x ron#warning- strong language#harry potter fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#tw: poisoning#tw: injury#tw: bodily harm
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Unlike Any Other; Tooru Oikawa
Genre: Fluff, Schoolmates AU
Word Count: 2.4K
Author’s Note: Hey hey hey!! I was feeling restless so I wrote this fanfic earlier this morning and just finished it, so I’m hoping ya’ll enjoy it. Please continue to support my oneshots as there are more to come! Stay safe everyone and here’s to falling for Tooru.
The soft creak of the metal door of the school's locker rung in your ears as you grabbed a few books and stashed it into your backpack. It was free period before all your classes were over so you decided to stay in the library for the time being.
The library was the only quiet place during the afternoon, it's either most of the students are in their club rooms or are waiting by the cafeteria for the gates to open so that they could leave the school premises. It was just like any day in Aoba Johsai.
You made your way through the busy hallway towards the school's library. At least by staying there, you could also catch up on your readings for classes and study ahead for the next lesson for each class. Or so you thought.
"Oikawa, I'm giving you the last warning. If you don't remain silent, I have no choice but to have you exit the library." The librarian spoke through the intercom, her message directed towards a certain Tooru Oikawa who was probably somewhere behind rows of bookshelves.
Just when you thought you could be at peace, the school's pretty boy happened to be at the same place as you were. Technically, Oikawa was not that annoying, it was his fangirls. The guy is gorgeous and talented, especially in volleyball, thus gaining a huge fanbase, not only in the prefecture but all over Japan.
Wherever Oikawa went, a swarm of his fans would surround him and the guy was too soft to say no to their persistent pleas of wanting to take pictures or give him gifts. By the end of the day, he would have a few paper bags of food in his hand and a bunch of letters in his bag.
You sighed and simply headed to the isolated parts of the library which was behind a few rows of dusty old books that were nearly torn and worn out. However, you were not the only one who liked this specific spot. As you walked closer to the table, your eyes fixated on a tall, lean figure who was surrounded by a bunch of girls. You immediately knew that it was Oikawa.
Pursing your lips, you settled at a different table which was not too far from them but also enough distance to not eavesdrop on their conversations.
___
As you were writing down a bunch of notes for the lessons, you couldn't help but notice the awkward tension in the air. You couldn't put your finger on it, but you were sure that someone, somewhere must've been feeling very uncomfortable for a while now.
You shrugged off the feeling and stood up, heading towards one of the bookshelves close to Oikawa. The aisles in the backrows usually had the best books for classes, and they help you a lot when you were studying. Not everyone knew about most of the teacher's textbooks being stored in the library so not much people head to the backrows for it.
Dust coated the tip of your finger as you ran it along the spines of the books, searching for a specific textbook for your class tomorrow. You could hear Oikawa's voice, it seemed uneasy as he was trying to get the girls around him to leave him alone for a while.
"U-uhm, I have to study."
"Don't you have any lessons you need to catch up on?"
"Let me finish this chapter in the textbook then maybe I can come with you girls?"
It sounded like he was having a hard time for the girls to get off his back. Feeling sorry for the guy, you head back to your table and grabbed your things. You walked back towards the row of dusty books and grabbed the ones that you needed and headed for Oikawa's table.
You dropped the old books on the table, all the dust flying out which made the girls sneeze and itch their noses. You then settled your things beside Oikawa and took a seat beside him.
"Hey babe." You said and Oikawa stared at you in confusion. The guy was pretty smart, but when it came to finding ways to fend off his fangirls, he was dumb as a brick. You raised your eyebrows in a threatening way and he must've got the signal.
Oikawa snakes his arm behind you and pulls you closer, placing a soft kiss on your temple. His fangirls were shocked at the scenario that played out in front of them, and finally deciding to leave the poor guy. As soon as they were out of sight, you pushed him away and moved your chair to the side, creating a safe distance from Oikawa.
"Why did you do that?" He asked as you flipped through the pages of the book.
"I could feel your uneasiness from my table, so I figured I'd help a poor soul." You answered, your gaze still focusing on the learning materials in front of you. A soft smirk crept up Oikawa's lips.
"Well, thanks for that. But, are you sure that's all that was behind your little heroic gesture?" He teases and you furrowed your eyebrows. Placing your pen on the table, you snap your head to face the obnoxious guy beside you, a stupid smirk on plastered on his face.
"For someone who can't even keep his fans in control, you sure have a huge ego." You spat and Oikawa laughed at your retort. He never knew someone could resist his teasing. All his life, girls turned their heads to appreciate his radiating beauty, but you were something else. He liked challenges, and you definitely seemed like one.
___
It's been a week since your encounter with Oikawa and his fangirls, and you've been avoiding every way possible of bumping into him. The guy was everywhere, and that made it hard to stay clear from him. There were times that you could hear his voice from the hallways since you were in the same year as Kyotani, however he was in a lower class than you.
You would often hear him share a conversation with Kyotani as they were teammates in the volleyball club, and when during those times, you would bury your face in a book. You didn't want him to see you because he would pester you again especially with that stupid kiss that he placed on your temple.
However, Oikawa had already acknowledged your presence. He's been looking for ways to talk with you again but, he needed the perfect time to do so. Knowing his massive fanbase, some of them were too obsessed, and if they found out about you, they'd probably find ways to eliminate you.
Packing your things, you slung your bag over your shoulder and walked out the classroom. You were a part of Aoba Johsai's dance team and with the annual 'Miyagi Prefecture High School Sports Festival' taking place in the school, your team was assigned to perform for an opening ceremony.
As you were on your way to the practice spot, Haruto, who was one of your fellow dancers walked up to you and initiated a conversation. Haruto was a good friend of yours, and he was a really good dancer too.
"Hey Y/N, are you ready for our practice? You're in charge of the choreography today right? Akari won't be with us for a week so she said she'll catch up with us once she's back." Haruto said and you nodded.
Akira was another one of your teammates, usually both of you were the people in charge of the choreography, but without her, it would probably be tougher to work on. Akira was a very talented dancer and choreographer, she always had great ideas for the most creative and powerful dance routines.
"Yeah, it's going to be tricky but I could always ask you guy for ideas." You said and entered the gym. The gym had the biggest stage in the school and the group needed as much space for the routine you had in mind.
"Are you sure we'll be able to work on our choreography while avoiding balls?" Haruto teases and confusion washed over your system. Avoiding balls? Why'd you have to avoid balls?
"Oh, I see you're here darling." Oikawa. It was Oikawa Tooru.
How could you forget that the boys' volleyball club occupies the gym after school hours? Just when you thought you've been doing well to avoid him; he shows up in the exact place you didn't want him to be at.
"You know, I thought you were pretty bold when you helped me with my fans, but I never thought you'd also be at my practices." He messes and you facepalmed. Damn, how could you have let it slip your mind.
"I wanted to see you get smacked by Iwaizumi when you messed up." You answered and smiled at him; the coldest one you could pull off. Iwaizumi, who was beside him laughed, clearly amused at how you were able to counter Oikawa.
"Don't worry, we'll try our best to avoid spiking towards you guys." Iwaizumi said and pulls Oikawa away. The two boys headed over to the club room, probably to get changed as you and Haruto got up on the stage.
Both of you settled your bags on the floor and you grabbed a black hoodie and a matching black jogging pants. You headed towards backstage to change into your dance practice outfit. Afterwards, you walked back out and stuffed your uniform into a separate compartment. Grabbing the pair of Adidas superstars in your bag, you slipped it on and tucked your school shoes under your bag.
"Hey Y/N, you look good." Lucy said as the other members started arriving. From the other side of the gym, you could see that the team was already having a meeting with their coach. You shook your head and diverted your attention towards your own group.
___
"Okay, cue the music." You instructed and a few seconds later, the music echoed throughout the gym. Everyone moved to the beat, formations changing here and there as everyone tried their best not to mess up the routine. Sweat trickled from your forehead as you tried to control your breathing to match the music.
You've practiced the routine for roughly 2 hours and it was slowly getting darker outside. Everyone was tired but that was no excuse. The school's dance team had been representing the Miyagi Prefecture in dance competitions around Japan for years, and it was because each member worked so hard each time. So today was no exemption.
From the corner of your eyes, you noticed how the volleyball team's pace slowed down. It was as if the game was slowing down, but you had no idea why. Focusing on your dance, your body matched every beat of the music and a smile crept up your lips.
Deep breaths echoed through the gym as the music came to an end. You were able to finish the choreography within two hours and another hour for actual memorization of the routine. Everyone was exhausted and you were proud of the effort that everyone displayed today.
You dismissed the group and headed to change your outfit, the hoodie was all sweaty and it reeked of sweat too. After changing, you started packing up, your shoes were tucked into your clip-on mini shoe bag and the rest of your clothes were stuffed into your bag.
As you got down from the elevated stage, Oikawa approached you, his signature smirk playing on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him and attempted to walk away from the charming guy that stood in front of you. Despite how much you would deny it, you were attracted to Oikawa. However, you would never let yourself fall on your knees for him, Oikawa possessed the visuals of a radiating young deity, but he was no god. You could never imagine chasing after him, because you knew you never stood a chance, especially with his huge fanbase.
"You looked really good up there darling." He said and a tinge of pink colored your cheeks. Oikawa Tooru complimented you, tis was beyond imagination. Who knew this narcissistic jerk was capable of compliments?
"Did you enjoy staring? Liked what you saw?" You teased and continued walking, Oikawa adjusting his pace to keep up with you. Oikawa would admit it, he liked you since that day you encountered in the library.
He admired your badass personality and comfortable vibes. It was as if he could act however he wanted to be when he was with you. He didn't have to be afraid of showing you his playfulness, he didn't have to hide his deepest thoughts, he was comfortable with you and he could let himself feel vulnerable when you were around.
"In all honesty, I think I did. Expect me to be waiting for you after your performance with a bottle of water darling." Oikawa said and you laughed at his words.
"You know Oikawa, I'm not like your fangirls. I will not be easily swooned by your words." You said and Oikawa placed his hands on his hips, his head falling backwards.
"I know darling. You're unlike any other. That's why I like you." He said and at that moment your heart exploded into tiny pieces. Oikawa and his dumb words always found a way to make you feel jittery. But you would never give in that easily to him.
"You know, you should stop flirting so much Oikawa. It makes you seem like a heartbreaker, even if it's unintentional." You pointed out and Oikawa snorted at your comment.
"You're the only one I flirt with darling." Oikawa said, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. You sighed and didn't bother untangling it because he would just grab it again.
"Stop messing with me Oikawa." You said and grabbed your phone to check on your messages.
"I'm not, and for a second year, you're pretty confident in calling me without a senpai at the end." He says and you smiled, facing him and flicking his forehead with your index.
"And for a senior, you're stooping on low levels to flirt with a junior." You countered and all he could do was laugh. You were unbelievable in his eyes; no girl could ever resist him the way you do. It riled him up and it made him want you even more.
"I like you a lot Y/N. Just know that, you want to grab some dinner before heading home?" He offers and you smiled at him once again.
Oikawa Tooru had your heart, but you would still play hard to get for a little while. Besides, free dinner was always good. So, both of you walked towards a nearby restaurant to enjoy some food, Oikawa's fingers still intertwined with yours.
--The End--
#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader#tooru x reader#tooru oikawa#tooru oikawa au#tooru oikawa oneshot#tooru oikawa aoba johsai#aoba johsai tooru#haikyuu au#haikyuu oneshot#tooru oikawa headcanons#tooru oikawa x fem!reader#oikawa fluff#haikyuu imagines#oikawa imagines#oikawa oneshot#aoba johsai oikawa#aoba johsai haikyuu#haikyuu fluff#tooru oikawa fluff#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa x reader
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Spin the bottle and the Awkwardness after pt. 2
Part 2 to this
Sirius sat on the Hogwart's express trying desperately (and failing) not to stare at Remus. He'd thought last term that Remus was good looking, but now? God, his hair was cut so Sirius could see his amber eyes and long lashes (why did he find Remus' eyelashes so hot? What was wrong with him?), and the scar running through his eyebrow. He also looked like he'd been working out, or something along those lines. Whatever it was, Remus was filling out the red t-shirt he was wearing much more than he had been doing last time Sirius saw him, and he looked much more in proportion to his height.
Right now, Remus was distracting Sirius by reading his book. Yes, that's right, simply the fact that Rekus was looking concentratedly at his book, chewing his lip absent-mindedly was causing Sirius to be extremely distracted. He was trying to have a conversation with James but couldnt help staring at Remus, and being reminded of their two kisses at the end of the previous year.
Over the summer, before he had gone to stay with James, in between mealtimes, visits to the park near Grimmauld Place to hang out with the muggles from the local area (something he knew his parents would disapprove of, but did anyway for the thrill ), and letters from James and Peter, Sirius spent a lot of his tume trying to write a letter to Remus, before groaning in frustration and throwing the scrunched up parchment into the fire. Some of his rejected letters looked as follows:
Dear Remus,
Hope you’re having a lovely summer. Mine’s been pretty bloody awful, but that’s not the point.
The point is that we really did snog, didn’t we? And it was good
(”Ew no, that sounds creepy.”)
Hi Moony,
How are you doing? Been gallivanting in the Welsh hills at all recently?
Just wondering if you liked me, like, liked me. It certainly seemed like you did when we snogged last term. Well, I like you if that’s any reassurance.
(”Aahhh! That’s just weird. Pull yourself together Sirius.”)
By the time Sirius had come up with anything half decent to send to Remus, it had been far too long since they’d seen each other, and snogged each other Sirius would always add in his mind, for it to mean anything. Hadn’t it? Sirius reckoned if Remus thought anything of it he would have written over the summer, so maybe the fact he had kissed Sirius with what had felt like actual feeling was just due to the fact he was drunk and a good kisser No, Sirius, you are not going to relive that second kiss yet another time in your mind...
Still, the fact that Remus had not written or shown any time of attraction since then was not stopping Sirius from getting mightily distracted by the fact Remus was now tugging at one of his golden brown curls, his freckled, scarred cheeks flushed slightly from the heat of the train and his bottom lip captured between his teeth, brow furrowed in concentration. Sirius wished it was his lip that was captured by Remus’ teeth. Nope. Not a good thought to be having, not PG in the slightest. Oh God, stop thinking about it Sirius.
Trying to distract himself from the fact he now very much wanted to snog Remus completely senseless and bury his hands in the other boy’s curls, Sirius tried to focus on James telling himself and Peter about his week after the two of them had left his house (they had stayed for just over a week with James, but Remus had been staying with his grandparents in Wales so couldn't make it. Sirius reckoned news that this was a good thing, because he had been in Remus’ presence barely two hours and could hardly concentrate). He just about managed to keep his eyes on James as he told him about how he had been out for lunch with his favourite aunt, Andromeda.
““Free day tomorrow, isn’t it?” Peter asked, slightly out of the blue, as he sometimes did.
“Yeah I think so...” James met eyes with Sirius, looked pointedly at Remus who was still decidedly engrossed in his book, and back at Sirius, with a questioning look in his eyes that said “spoken to him yet?” Sirius made the hand signal that they had created in first year, along with a few others, that meant “tell you later.” James nodded, then said, to fill the silence he had created by trailing off, ““I wonder if they’ll be letting us go into Hogsmeade?”
““That would be good. My mum asked me to buy some stationery and other rubbish when I next go down. She says there are no quills like the ones from Hogsmeade...” Peter mused.
The rest of the train journey lasted in very much the same manner. James and Peter holding most of the conversation, Remus reading his book, only stopping to have the occasional bite of chocolate and to chat with Lily when she stopped by their compartment, and Sirius staring at Remus, restraining himself from pushing the werewolf against the wall and snogging them until they were both breathless, When they finally got up to the castle, James pulled Sirius aside rather roughly by the side of his robes.
“Ow, piss off James, what the fuck?”
“Shut up you’re fine. Now, what is going on between you and Moony? Have you even spoken to him since you both kissed so passionately?” He wiggled his eyebrows at Sirius she snorted and turned slightly red.
“No, I have not spoken to him,” James rolled his eyes, “but he hasn’t spoken to me either!”
““Come on Padfoot. You really think Remus, Moony, who hates even asking questions in class for fear of annoying the teachers, all of whom love him dearly, that Remus is going to go out on a limb and tell you how he feels about you?”
“I-”
“Yeah, that’s right.” James was looking at him with a slightly stern expression on his face which made Sirius feel both like he was in trouble, and a wave of appreciation towards his friend. ““What are you gonna do about it then Padfoot?”
“I dunno. Talk to himI guess?”
“Oh! I know. Tomorrow I’ll go with Pete to Hogsmeade, I saw a sign over there saying we can go, and leave you and Remus the dorm to yourselves.”
“Okay. I have zero clues what I’m gonna say though.” James smiled at Sirius.
““You’ll figure it out.”
Sirius was so preoccupied about what on Earth he was meant to say to Remus the following morning, he barely payed attention to the sorting and Dumbledore’s speech at all, and hardly ate anything. Before he knew it they were up in their dorm and the lights were out, and Sirius was surrounvddd by the other Marauders’ deep breathing as they slept. He stared up at the scarlet canopy above his head and felt his mind wandering back to the party at the end of last term for what was like the thousandth time.
***
He was just a little bit tipsy when James had beckoned him over from where he had been dancing with Marlene and Dorcas. James has waved an empty firewhiskey bottle in his face, which confused him. Wow, it’s an empty bottle James. I want a full one dude.
“Spin the bottle.” James sang. Sirius felt his eyes widen - this was one of the reasons he loved parties. ““But-” James was still speaking (that was what he always seemed to be doing, especially at the wrong times), “with a twist.” Now Sirius was really interested.
“What kind of twist?”
“Well, I was reading this really obscure charms book, and I was messing around, and I’m pretty sure that the charm I’ve put on this bottle means that it will land on whoever the spinner is most attracted to.”
“James, you amazing man. I am forever in your debt.”
“Pads, you’ve been in my debt pretty much since we met.”
“True, true, but now I can see if Moony likes me back!”
““Exactly. And I can kiss Lily!”
And the , of course, Sirius’ spin had landed on Remus, as expected and what Sirius had been hoping for happened. Remus’ spin landed on him. And... well, it was pretty obvious why very soon afterwards.
***
The morning cane much too soon for Sirius’ personal preference. Could Dumbledore not put a spell on everything that meant mornings lasted about two hours more! Alas, James and Peter were locked in a fierce game of something that seemed to consist of throwing balled up socks at one another. Whatever it was, it was extremely loud and had rudely awoken Sirius and, from the muffled stream of swear words coming from his bed, Remus as well.
“Well,” James announced as he and Peter finally ended their ferocious battle, ““Pete and I are off to Hogsmeade. I assume we’ll see you two down there at some point.”
““Yeah, at some sensible time not fucking three am or whatever it is right now.”
“Ah, good ,o ring to you as well dear Moony.” And with that and a wink at Sirius, James and Peter left the dormitory, discussing something to do with quidditch Sirius thought.
It was weirdly quiet now that the other two had left, and Sirius supposed he should probably have that conversation he’d promised James he’d have. Remus has drawn the curtain of his beam and Sirius was impressed at his ability to act casual when he turned around to face the other boy, as in reality he was going just a little crazy at the sight of Remus just woken up. His eyes were half closed, those freaking eyelashes resting on his cheeks, and his hair messy from sleep.
““Hey, Remus?” Sirius guessed he should probably just go for it.
“Mmhm?”
“Um... we should probably talk.” Remus’ eyes shot open at this, and met Sirius’.
“About last term?”
“Yeah...” Sirius fiddled with his duvet to give his hands something to do.
“I-”
“So-”
They both started talking at the same time.
“Shall I go first? Remus offered. Sirius nodded, grateful to be able to see what Remus had to say before he completely embarrassed himself, as he had warrant to do with feelings.
““I just wanted to say I’m sorry.” Remus was blushing, “I git a bit carried away, I think, because I’ve been wanting to kiss you for ages but I know you don’t feel the same way, God, why am I saying this? You go before I say anything else awful.”
Sirius was in shock. Remus had wanted to kiss him? He kind of knew, because of James’ charm, but it could have been faulty, so it was a relief to hear it from Remus himself.
“Remus, you idiot, of course I wanted to kiss you.”
“What?”
“Yeah. The bottle was charmed to land on who you’re most attracted to.”
“Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah. I wanted to kiss you then, and basically all of yesterday. I want to kiss you now Remus.” Remus stood up and slowly stepped over to Sirius’ bed, as he also stood up to meet him.
“Really?”
“God, yes.”
Then Remus’ hands were cupping Sirius’ face, and he was leaning in and pressing his lips to Sirius’. Sirius kissed him back immediately, hard. He had been thinking about this while doing nothing for way too long now. He threaded one of this hands through Remus’ honey brown curls, and put the other one on the small of his lack, pressing closer, and making the most of finally getting to kiss the other boy. Remus was putting a hand on Sirius’ neck and the other plan was still on his cheek. Their mouths were slightly open and they were so close to each other closet than Sirius ever thighs they’d be. Finally, after what felt like years but at the same time not long enough at all they pulled away, if only a few inches. Remus’ forehead was resting on Sirius’ and they were both breathing in sync.
“Why didn’t we do that sooner?” Remus asked.
“I have no idea.” Sirius stood in tiptoes slightly to press another, shift kiss to Remus’ lips, which he returned.
““Remus?”
““Yeah?”
““Would you like to be my boyfriend?” Sirius beamed, lost in the soft expression in Remus’ eyes.
““Why of course. That would be lovely.”
“Well, we should probably catch up with the other two then.”
Remus kissed Sirius again softly and sighed.
“Yeah, I suppose. This is to be continued though.”
Needless to say, when Sirius and Remus walked into the Three Broomsticks hand in hand, grinning, James was extremely excited. Peter had an expression that read ‘‘of course” on his face, and Remus and Sirius just looked at each other, grinned and shared a quick kiss, happy to be able to do so without needing an excuse.
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Half of it: Reunion
Welp. I threw this one in just 40 minutes the day I watched the movie. Didn’t proof-read it much afterwards and I merely thought on sending it to the roomie -narrows eyes at the Tumblr darkness: M, give me your Tumblr pretty pls.- But I guess... why not sharing it here xD
Attention: Not many spoilers or plot points discussed aside from, you know, the obvious. At any case proceed with caution if you haven’t watched it yet.
The air was icy when the train stopped, the rails whining at the sudden halt and by the time Ellie jumped out of compartment, boots firm against the pebbled road, she breathed in the scent of asphalt and soon-to-be snow that permeated the nighttime breeze.
She could have gotten in town much earlier, when the night wasn’t a shadow already passed over the horizon. On her wrist, dutifully annotated, where the timetables of the different trains that would have run from her campus to her childhood home but she had felt reluctant to do so and when she squared her shoulders and brought her right hand back to where she had put her trolley with a heavy thud mere moments before, she nibbled into her bottom lip, nerves getting the best of her once again.
It wasn’t the city on itself, she told herself as she started to walk towards her right, the train groaning as it picked up speed once more. She hadn’t felt a reaction inside of her the moment the rails had curled and run through the few and distant buildings that signaled the line between forest and town. The lush green marred with salt-peppered grey concrete had made her smile for once after all: the knowledge that she wasn’t stuck but merely passing a different kind of feeling to get drunk into once she realized that she had left for good. Yet, as she walked past the rails and the small cabin she had spent so much in, nerves didn’t quite leave her lungs. Spreading, mutating, they formed a tight ball around her throat that made her swallow by the time she reached her home, her former home.
She knew her father was inside, the lights on the kitchen’s window enough to tell her she had already been spotted by the man and the sounds coming from the ajar door signaling that he had already put a film to watch together while they ate. This time, though, the one he was probably giving her like every other pause he now used to give her whenever she called, amidst exams and outings and books that should be read for the next class she was supposed to take, a whirlwind of unspoken understanding.
He had never quite asked her why she had trouble wondering what life was back in town whenever she asked about Paul work. She suspected that, eventually, it didn’t matter how far off he was from the little town’s busy life: rumors were unperturbable to time. It was only a matter of it before he got to hear what had happened months ago. She would answer the questions that would spill of course, but she doubted very much that the man would ever question her.
And that, she considered while she pushed the door open, was as much of a blessing as it was a curse.
Not that she hadn’t talked to others about what had happened during her last months of her senior year. Private as she was there were things that eventually spilled out of one’s mind. Even if one didn’t want it so. But she still wondered if she would feel raw or betrayed if her father questioned it, if he told her to confide in him.
Morose wasn’t a feeling she often felt like but the thought of being halfway through her university career, the two years bell having been ringing on her ears ever since she had turned her last paper in, felt like a looming doom that she couldn’t run fast enough from. Which was probably the reason why that, when her father had asked her if she would be up for a small reunion of two to three days using up the few days between papers and the time she would need to go back to her in-university job, she had said yes.
Maybe to show him that there was nothing new about herself. Maybe to tell herself that there was, in fact, something.
Nevertheless, she took the last steps and smiled at his silhouette, at the way his shoulders hunched and moved as he stepped forward to hug her. Short, brief, awkward. They still were after all. That much hadn’t changed.
Patting his back, she looked around, spotting the bag that was emblazoned with Munsky’s Dinner symbol. The telling note on how his father has kept contact with the little glance of the outside world that she had brought into those years ago.
“You look good.” She said, words rusty but language prevailing and Edwin nodded curtly with just a shadow of a smile curving his lips. It felt good, she thought, pointing at what had been her room, trolley still behind her, secure on her already freezing hand. “Let me change and we can start dinner.”
He said nothing to her, merely remaining busy while she climbed up and by the time she reached the last few steps she tucked her chin into her chest, content and less anxious that there hadn’t been any tearful reunion nor cutting questions into the what or how. Pushing the trolley until it stopped at the end of her bed, she glanced around, flinching ever so slightly at the empty feeling of the room; the thought of being trespassing into a person she had been once not quite hitting her as strongly as she had feared it would. She hadn’t changed that much obviously. But there were things, small things, that made her look at the wood on the walls and the rickety pieces of written papers on the side table, before glancing towards the duvet, expecting almost to see something there, a letter that could have been sent but had never reached her for a reason she would get to listen to later.
Her bed was empty, though, devoid of a letter, and she looked at the window in where the dying lights of orange-ish lamps pooled around the rails as they mixed with the grey smoke that seemed to permanently come off from the nearby road. The one she had taken time and time again to get to school.
In there, dividing the slope that would eventually turn to the town proper, the stone wall made of red bricks blinked into existence. She hadn’t looked towards it when she had gotten off the train, the metal shielding her from it, the thought of seeing her father blinding her to anything else. Which, perhaps, had been her error because there, waiting, cans of paint and a blank slate of white painted over the red awaited her with one single word written in deep blue. The kind of one that could be water if one tilted their head enough, eyes narrowing until the lights hurt less.
“Hello.”
And it could be a message to anyone. It probably was, her rational part whispered to her as she turned and stormed out of the room, trolley forgotten, patterns of dust imprinted on her boots. But she had shared enough letters to recognize the handwriting, enough, she hoped, to be able to link to them in a second. And not like she hadn’t looked at the string of messages they had one shared a few times during her stay; hoping against hope to be on the receiving end of a message that would telegraph the longing she herself felt. Eventually, she had realized that she could also be the one sending a message, three dots that would eventually turn into a confession with a much deeper meaning that the one she had almost shouted to everyone in the midst of a proposal that should have never happened. And, at the thought of doing that, at the weight that on itself had brought upon her mind, she had revoked herself from the sentiment: unsure if she was strong enough to bear it.
It had been a fling. She had told herself. An almost maybe. A promise in the shape of a kiss in the middle of an empty road; a brave yet stupid declaration that had kept her on stitches every time she considered coming back there for just a spell. No one should weigh themselves for the things they did back when they were 17.
No one should be that cruel.
Her father said nothing as she run past him, the handle on the main door frozen beneath her fingertips, the shock minute with the way she pulled it back towards her as she stepped into the road once again. Crossing to the other side of the road she stood at the brink of the now empty rail, her boots straining against the metal, the sole of her feet protesting. Beneath the cans, tucked away, a note laid, paper that felt as if it could fling against her fingers if she wished hard enough. Crouching next to the cans, one hand caressing the paint, feeling the coldness coming from it, the slowly drying white, she unfolded the note with two fingers and her teeth, moving the paper away from her as she refused to move her other hand away from the wall.
“I wasn’t sure then. I am now.”
She tried to laugh, a blubber escaping her lips, peal of bubbles that piled up within her as she looked up.
It had been two years. Two stupid years made in a dare, in a flamboyant act of selfish righteousness. But she had gotten to learn that she could be selfish on her own love. If that made sense. It the words she had uttered had been something beyond an escapist explanation of why she had ever convinced herself that what she was doing was nothing but right. It shouldn’t be this complicated. It didn’t need to be. She had gotten the taste of how it could not be if she dared to look past the circle she had put herself in once.
And then, as a distant nagging sensation, her phone buzzed on her back pocket. Once, twice.
She never got to see what it was, as she heard the pebbles sliding off the path when a new set of boots moved in closer, waiting for her to look up.
Aster’s was looking at her with the same intensity she had once upon a time looked at her, when they had been in the lagoon and Ellie had thought she would combust if she ever dared to ask to feel her fingers around her forearms once more as she battled for a shirt that she had felt unsafe enough, exposed enough, to keep on wearing. She had her phone on her hand, the light illuminating her skin, her wrist, her nails. She had a stroke of dyed color on her hair. Not clear enough for the descending light to catch on it but deep enough for her eyes to pause on it, on the way it framed her eyes, her face, her smile. Pointing towards the wall, she shrugged half-way.
“Paul told me you’d be here. I wanted to leave as soon as you saw…. But I couldn’t.”
There were hundreds of questions Ellie felt like asking, and some others she didn’t feel like questioning. She could feel her father’s eyes on the kitchen’s windowsill, the scent of already heated food reaching them both as she stood, slowly, while curling her fingers, forming a ball she now made it reach the front pocket of her parka, skin wet and crackling from the humid paint.
She had wondered. Of course, she had. She had expected herself to be bolder in front of Aster only due to the years that had passed, for the exhilarating thought of maybe she being right.
She was none of those things: she felt robbed of both voice and temper. There was nothing but the ache on her muscles of thousands of steps never taken. Yet, she realized that she quite liked the thought: of the possibility that the message on her phone could be, even if she never dared to look at it.
“It’s been two years.” Her voice felt rough at the back of her throat, her tongue like wood and sand, the same sand she hadn’t gotten to see until she had left. And even then. Aster halted at her, lips half-closed, a look of recognition shining through her eyes. Laughing weakly, she nodded again, giving her a second half-shrug, this time aimed at both, rather than the wall that now extended at Ellie’s right, like a page about to be filled.
“You said two.”
“I said two.”
It was an idiotic set of words, combinations and grammar be dammed. Yet Ellie laughed a little as they kept on looking at each other. As if expecting something. She had been the one rushing last time, hasn’t she? Was that what was expected from her? To be the one keeping the promise she had told.
But then, Aster moved forward, timidly at first, more secure later, and promptly grasped her forearm, the one with her painted skin, and pulled, making her stumble as her fingers slipped away from the pocket, crusty and suddenly warm enough to be melt. She pushed back, because that had been them, at the very beginning, before anything had transformed into the mess that had been. And when she did, muscles answering, she felt a second pull, this one on her shoulder, poignant glance darkening the space.
Her lips felt numb at the end of everything, her chest open, her eyes hurting when her eyelids responded.
“How about no more waiting?”
This time she didn’t answer. Not with words.
Words could be screwed. And promises of a time that should be spent waiting scattered in the wind, against the windows, over the rooftops, beyond the town’s sign.
29 notes
·
View notes
Text
Telephone
Plot: Madame introduces to Mary Ann a smartphone, and some ~fluff~ happens from that.
“Come quickly, there’s something I want to show you!” said Madame in a hurry, as she led Mary Ann across her large Victorian mansion, climbing up and down numerous stairs, and walking through endless hallways.
“What is it you so desperately want me to see?” asked Mary Ann, with a slight chuckle.
“Something extraordinary!” she replied, with a wide smile.
After much walking and climbing, they finally arrived at a small room all the way at the back of the mansion, a room in which Mary Ann wasn’t quite familiar with. It was cramped with many unusual things, like in the other rooms, but this one was much more cramped, as they could barely fit inside.
Madame shimmied her way towards a drawer tightly placed between two shelves stuffed with books, scrolls, and piles upon piles of paper. She was muttering some things under her breath as she opened up every compartment drawer, searching for something, until she finally let out a loud “Aha!” and quickly turned around, facing Mary Ann, and hiding something behind her back.
“Tell me, Mary Ann, what’s the most fantastical invention you’ve ever seen?” she asked.
Mary Ann thought for a bit. “I have to say...that would probably be the automaton!”
“Forget that. It is primitive compared to what I’m about to show you!”
“What do you mean?”
And soon enough, Madame pulled out a rather peculiar item from behind her. It was a very thin black box that fitted on the palm of her hand, it almost looked like a tiny cuneiform tablet, but nothing was written on it, and instead it reflected the light from a dangling light bulb hung on the ceiling. Mary Ann wondered what could such a tiny, insignificant-looking object possibly do that could be better than an automaton?
“This is called a smartphone.” Madame smiled. “And it can do almost anything you can possibly imagine!”
“A...smart...phone? Like a telephone?” asked Mary Ann, observing the smartphone in Madame’s hand with much confusion.
“Yes, but smarter, hence the name!” she explained.
“And what can you do with it?”
“Anything. You can call, send letters, watch moving pictures with it, even play games!”
And Madame went on and on about the many uses of a smartphone, and Mary Ann could only listen in awe, even though she couldn’t understand half of what she was saying.
“Do you want to try it?” asked Madame, handing the smartphone over to her.
“Oh no, I fear I might break it into pieces!” she declined.
“Nonsense, you won’t do such a thing, I know how awfully careful you are with things, you’ll be fine with this one!”
“I don’t know, Madame...I--I must confess I’m...quite scared to try…”
Madame held her hand, squeezing it slightly, and smiled. “Don’t worry, it’s completely safe. Trust me.”
Mary Ann looked into her eyes, and she knew she was being honest. She looked down at the smartphone, then returned her gaze.
“Alright then.” she agreed. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Just try to call me.” said Madame, and began to explain to her how to make a phone call with it.
Afterwards, she went back to the drawer and pulled out another smartphone, this one looked more customized, and Mary Ann could only conclude that it belonged to Madame.
“Whenever you’re ready!” said Madame, holding up her smartphone to her ear.
Mary Ann nodded, and returned to her smartphone. She followed Madame’s instructions to the best of her ability, and although she fumbled a few times, she managed to get it right, and then held her phone against her ear.
She heard a loud ringing coming from her smartphone, which made her wince, but she continued to hold her phone close to her ear. Then, the ringing stopped, and in its place was Madame’s own voice, as if she was inside of a box.
“Hello!” she said, and laughed afterwards.
“Hello.” responded Mary Ann, smiling a little.
“How does it feel?” asked Madame
“Very strange, but exciting!”
Madame smiled. “I knew you’d like it! You’ll get used to it once we go to the future, people use it quite often there!
“Anything else you want to say?” she added.
Mary Ann stared back at Madame for a while. She was smiling excitedly as usual, always eager to show Mary Ann anything new and exciting about the future, or even the past. She was always sharing everything with her, whether it’s peculiar objects like this one, or adventures, or even everyday moments, such as quiet moments where the two of them are sitting in the drawing room reading a book, or happy moments in which Madame is playing a tune on their grand piano, and Mary Ann and little Christopher are dancing along, pretending to be at a ball, or sad moments, where at times Madame had shown her vulnerable side, as well as her dark and mysterious past, or occasionally, moments in which it felt as though the whole world stopped, that neither time nor space existed, but just the two of them, and in those moments, Mary Ann wished they wouldn’t cease, for nothing in the world could be much better than this.
Nothing was better than being with Madame.
“Well?” she heard Madame say through her smartphone, which cut through Mary Ann’s thoughts.
She paused for a moment, feeling her throat suddenly go dry, and her heart accelerate.
She took a deep breath.
“I love you.”
Madame blinked, and looked as though she wasn’t expecting that, but soon smiled, and her eyes gave off such warmth and care that Mary Ann felt sudden chills in her stomach.
“I love you, too.” she replied.
This time it was Mary Ann who blinked in surprise, for she wasn’t expecting her reaction to be this, but she smiled back nonetheless.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
o captain, my captain (Barlyle)
o captain, my captain (Barlyle)
Rating: Explicit
——
Phineas stumbles across Phillip’s secret journal.
——
A big thank you to @askcarlyle for letting me steal— er, borrow a little journal entry! The journal entry is entirely their doing, but the rest is written by yours truly.
Phillip may want to do a better job of locking his stories up next time. Pretty sure I saw some clone pining in there. Smh.
...Have fun.
——
Phineas didn’t mean to snoop. He had meant to clean — a rarity that usually only occurred after Phillip nagged his ear off. Phillip would sigh and, with a roll of his eyes, claim that Phineas’s two little daughters, neither of them yet of double digit age, tidied up better than he did. And complained less about it, too.
But Phillip was away, dragged off to some gala by his parents in an attempt to “return him to the upper class.” He probably wouldn’t be back until the next day — he usually came back early from such events after bickering with his parents, but this particular gathering was hosted by a family across the state, and if Phillip wanted to leave early he would have to find a hotel to stay overnight. He wouldn’t be back until evening tomorrow, or late afternoon if he set off early enough.
So, because Phillip was away and no doubt having a miserable time, Phineas decided he would surprise him by cleaning the whole house — or, most of it. He could probably stand to skip a few rooms that Phillip didn’t go into. He knew that his “cleanliness standards” weren’t quite as on par with Phillip’s, but he hoped that Phillip would be so surprised and overjoyed by the simple fact that Phineas had cleaned that he would be willing to overlook a few forgotten specks of dust.
But when Phineas decided to clean the whole
(most of the)
(half of the)
house, he did not expect to find himself wrist-deep in some secret compartment in Phillip’s room.
All right, so the bedroom wasn’t exactly Phillip’s. Technically, it was a guest bedroom and the two slept together in Phineas’s master suite. But Phillip would duck into this second bedroom whenever Phineas’s girls spent the night and Phillip thought it best to sleep in separate beds. And, despite only being used on occasional weekends and holidays, the room had little traces of Phillip all over it — one of his combs on the dresser, a jacket and tie slung over the bed frame, and a pair of his socks in the corner, left forgotten as he packed for his overnight visit.
These little traces of untidiness made Phineas’s lip twitch into a smirk. He chuckled as he picked up the bundled pair of socks and tossed them in the hallway to join his own pile of dirty clothing. He would take them downstairs to be washed upon making his way to the ground floor.
He was on his hands and knees, attempting to sweep dust out from underneath the bed (how did Phillip do this?) when his thumb caught on something and he cursed, yanking his hand back. A small drop of blood was already rising against his skin, and he cursed again under his breath as he stuck his thumb in his mouth. Once satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, he carefully poked his head under the bed once more to see what had nicked him.
A nail stuck up from an uneven floorboard and, curiosity getting the best of him, Phineas quickly realized the floorboard was loose. Lifting the wooden plank took no effort at all, and Phineas found himself wrist deep in a secret compartment he was unaware of in his own home.
The hole was small, but surprisingly deep, and Phineas’s fingers brushed against... something.
The man’s heart leapt in his throat until he realized that the questionable object was not furry. Not a rat, then. He let out a silent sigh of relief as he curled his fingers around the object and lifted it out from underneath the bed.
A journal.
The book was bound in brown leather, not yet dulled by the elements of time. The pages looked crisp and white, though many appeared creased and dog-eared, as if somebody had gone back and visited certain pages a number of times before.
Curiosity getting the better of him, Phineas flipped to a random page — one, he noted, that was dog-eared. It was dated three weeks ago and he immediately recognized the familiar cursive lettering, written by only Phillip’s neat hand.
Phineas began to read.
"I had the dream again last night. It's been months since the last time, but I hesitate to mention it to Phineas since he always looks vaguely unsettled whenever he hears the word "pirate.” The start is always the same -- I am in a ship's cabin, curled up on the bunk. Some interminable time later, hinges creak as an imposing figure fills the doorway, face hidden in dark shadows, the crimson late afternoon sunlight against his back. With the sort of expository omniscience that only works in dreams, I know that he is my captain and that what is to follow has played out many times before. That does not in way diminish the anticipation, however.
He sheds his claret velvet coat first, then the ornately embroidered black waistcoat is shrugged off broad shoulders to reveal the ivory silk shirt underneath. The fabric is thin and clings to his strongly muscled arms and chest, drawstrings already pulled loose so that the deep v reveals just a glimpse of rippling abdomen. His skin glints golden in the light of the setting sun, his head is crowned wih chestnut waves limned in halcyon glory.
Time speeds up again and he has reached the bed, his movements lithe and the glint in his amber eyes almost predatory. It's a gaze that leaves me unable to resist, rendered immobile by its warm, beckoning depths. He is on me in another moment and his lips taste of sea spray and rum. He reaches down...."
When he stopped reading, Phineas realized his face was red and hot. He swallowed, throat dry, Phillip’s face flashing in his mind.
Though the incident with the pirates had been a long while ago, the memory was still fresh in Phineas’s mind. He never would have guessed that the ship, the men that had beaten and shot at them, would have had this effect on Phillip. He tried to think back, try to recall any night that Phillip had acted out of sorts after waking or going to bed.
Phineas still sat on the ground and he shifted, realizing that his trousers had gotten uncomfortably tight. The journal still laid open in his lap and his gaze trailed down, scanning the lettering once more.
He is on me in another moment.
Slowly, his shock faded and a smirk curled at Phineas’s lip. He grunted, shifting his weight, hand falling into his lap. Circling a thumb over his rising erection, Phineas thought of Phillip once more and snickered.
Well, he thought, standing to go and properly relieve himself, if it was a show Phillip wanted, it was a show Phillip would get.
***
The sun was just beginning to set, painting the sky a sea of oranges and reds, when the sound of hoofbeats along the dirt road announced Phillip’s return the next evening. He was positively exhausted, physically and emotionally, after another unsuccessful attempt to get along with his parents, and he’d barely slept the night before, in an unfamiliar hotel room with no Phineas to curl into.
Vaguely, he registered that Phineas hadn’t come out to greet him, but his mind was too tired and foggy to care. He briefly debated leaving his luggage outside and dealing with it in the morning, but he shook his head, feeling ridiculous — it was only one bag.
Inside the mansion, the rooms were dark and empty. It looked like Phineas wasn’t home at all and at this Phillip became more attentive. Of course, he had no way of letting Phineas know the exact minute he’d be home, but... where was he?
Slightly dejected at having nobody to greet him coming home, Phillip sighed and took his singular suitcase upstairs. He threw it in the spare bedroom, deciding to unpack later, and went down the hall to the bedroom he shared with Phineas. Even without the ringmaster here, at least he’d be able to fall asleep in the comfort of their own sheets.
Time passed in a blur as Phillip stripped, removing his jacket and his belt and his shoes, the rest of his clothing following suit, and slipped into one of Phineas’s nightshirts. He relaxed at once with the familiarity of Phineas’s scent wrapping around him like an embrace, and sank into the large bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin.
He thought he was dreaming when the door creaked open, a figure stood at the doorway. Inwardly, Phillip’s heart leapt in his throat.
The dream. It was happening again.
But this time Phillip was... aware.
The light from a setting sun set his hair aglow with orangey-red. Phillip’s breath caught in his throat as the man — the captain — stepped closer. The outfit he wore was familiar, Phillip having seen it in his dreams a number of times before. Neither of them spoke as Phineas shed his velvet coat first, and then the waistcoat, revealing the fine ivory shirt that was as familiar as any of Phillip’s own clothing. Phillip had this dream more than enough times before and could recite each scene as it unfolded, like a bedtime prayer.
But, a voice whispered at the back of Phillip’s mind. Despite the near-perfect recreation of the dream from nights past, something was... off.
Beyond the sound of Phillip’s own heart thudding in his ears, he vaguely registered that he could feel no sway of the ship from the waves underneath his bed. He could not smell the saltiness of ocean water in air, and the timing was off. It was early or mid-evening, not late afternoon as before.
And then—
“Phillip,” the man before him whispered.
Alarm bells exploded in Phillip’s head.
The captain never spoke upon first entering his room. During or afterward, sure — but never before.
Phillip’s eyes rose to meet Phineas’s. He saw the playful gleam behind the seduction, saw the way the man’s lip curled into a smirk as Phillip looked at him just a little too long.
“Phineas!” he gasped, incredulous.
This was no dream.
Phillip crawled out from underneath the covers. Phineas’s nightshirt bunching up around his thighs as he sat on his knees and stared up at the... captain. Phineas didn’t bother to hide his pleasure as his eyes roamed over Phillip’s body, and he hummed in delight.
“Is that my nightshirt?” he chuckled.
“Phineas, how did you—“
The words died in Phillip’s throat as his eyes widened and his face drained of color. Horrified, his gaze flicked up to Phineas’s face.
“You didn’t!” he exclaimed.
“Hmmm?” Phineas tried to play innocent, but that damned smirk gave him away.
“Oh, no,” Phillip moaned.
Phineas chuckled again. “In my defense, I truly did not mean to stumble across your little... stories. I was cleaning, and—“
“You were cleaning?” Phillip gasped.
Phineas scowled. “Couldn’t you tell?”
Phillip was silent. His face still flamed red hot and he covered his eyes.
God. He couldn’t believe Phineas found his journal. That Phineas read it. He wondered just how much the man had seen...
A hand on his chest pushed him back on the bed and Phineas was on him, kissing his lips, kissing his neck. It took a moment for Phillip, stunned, to respond, but then he whimpered, overtaken by Phineas’s scent and hands and lips. Distantly, he smelt rum and sea foam — he wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him or if Phineas had gone those extra steps to be “in character.”
Another gasp escaped Phillip’s lips as Phineas reached down, and suddenly the younger man became aware of just how vulnerable he was. He laid in their bed — though, at the moment it felt very much like a ship’s bunk — in nothing but one of Phineas’s own nightshirts that left much of his hot, gleaming skin exposed. Phineas was still mostly clothed, save for the velvet coat and waistcoat that laid discarded somewhere on the floor. Muscles rippled underneath the thin, ivory shirt Phineas still wore, and Phillip ached to trace every inch of the captain’s skin like a map of stars.
Phineas’s hand crept up the inside of Phillip’s bare thigh, toying along the soft skin. He snickered. “Look at you. Legs spread open like a whore.”
As Phineas’s hand closed around his hardening cock, Phillip moaned. “O-Only for you, Captain.”
The name slipped out on impulse as Phillip lost himself in the familiar fantasy. He froze and his gaze flickered to Phineas, who knelt over him, one hand still slipped underneath the nightshirt. His eyes widened for a moment, almost as surprised as Phillip, and then darkened. The hand on Phillip’s cock withdrew, slipping out from underneath the nightshirt. Phillip whimpered as Phineas stood and pulled him up. Now, Phineas stood looking down at Phillip, who sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deep, cock hard, head bowed.
Through his lowered eyelashes, Phillip watched as Phineas’s hands toyed with his belt. Excitement thrummed through Phillip’s body as the captain watched him with a smirk, no doubt knowing exactly the kind of thoughts running through Phillip’s head. Phillip watched, licking his lower lip as Phineas pulled the belt loose. Their eyes met as the belt came off and Phineas unbuttoned his trousers.
Lifting an eyebrow, the captain commanded, “On your knees, cabin boy.”
Phillip’s mouth fell open in a moan and a low, “Fuck.”
“Damned mouth of a sailor,” the captain muttered.
Phillip came close to protesting, but the captain’s sharp look, amber eyes dark with intent, had him scrambling to the floor
(like a harlot)
instead. He looked up at Phineas from his knees, expecting to see a trace of familiar warmth in whiskey-colored eyes, and found the very sea captain from his dreams staring down at him in his place.
Phineas radiated possession and power as his trousers lowered, his cock demanding attention. Phillip whimpered again, softly, nearly dizzy with desire and disbelief that his fantasy was real and actually being played out. He almost forgot that it was a result of Phineas’s snooping.
“Get to work,” the captain snapped.
Phillip had been in this position a countless amount of times before, but now, with sea captain instead of ringmaster waiting for him, he felt closed in and very, very warm. He was hyper aware of the heat radiating from himself and from the captain, and his mouth felt suddenly dry.
But one more look up at Phineas took Phillip’s breath away and, slowly, his body relaxed. He leaned forward, kissing his lips to the smooth head of the captain’s cock.
Above him, Phineas sighed and shifted. Captain persona momentarily forgotten.
Using one hand to grip the man’s hip, Phillip slowly took more in. The familiar thickness and musky scents were comforting and Phillip relaxed further, falling into the familiar routine. He sucked eagerly, but slowly, savoring Phineas’s taste.
“Faster,” came the captain’s sharp order.
Phillip hummed, the best he could do with Phineas’s cock in his mouth, and closed his eyes as he applied more suction, sucking faster and harder and deeper. He gripped the captain’s hips, fingernails leaving little crescent-shaped marks in their wake, and took Phineas for all he was worth, until the tickling of his gag reflex forced him to slowly back off.
“Fuck,” the man above him hissed.
Then he felt the hand in his hair, then both hands, and he made a strangled noise as they tugged at his hair, abusing the strands. Phillip’s eyes snapped open as the captain gave a particularly hard yank, and the resulting moan ripped from his throat with such force that he had to pull away from the captain’s cock, leaving it wet and red and gleaming.
“Phin—“ he coughed.
A rough yank of his hair and a light, sharp slap across his face had Phillip correcting himself as he gasped.
“C-Captain!”
The captain smirked. His eyes flicked over to the bed, and then to Phillip. The younger man’s nightshirt was rumpled, much too big for him, and drenched in sweat.
“Undress, sailor.”
Phillip’s limbs trembled as he got to his feet and pulled Phineas’s nightshirt up over his head. The captain’s eyes darkened as they roamed over him, and he squirmed under the intense gaze.
“Mmm. Wait here.”
Phillip watched with wide eyes as the captain pulled up his trousers, acting as if his cock didn’t literally ache to be released, and swiftly left the room. Phillip was left alone, undressed and aching and with a thudding heart. He sat on the edge of the bed and attempted to breathe evenly.
At first, when the captain came back with red ribbons in hand, Phillip didn’t gauge the meaning. He looked up into Phineas’s eyes.
The familiar smirk returned. “You mentioned ropes in your writing, but I thought ribbons might be smoother on that delicate skin of yours.”
Phillip gaped at him. His mind raced, realizing what the words meant.
The captain approached with slow, sturdy steps. He pushed Phillip back down — Phillip made no attempt to fight back — and made quick work of tying him up, bringing his wrists up over his head. Phillip moaned and whined and whimpered. He didn’t even have exposed skin to press up against. Phineas knew this, the entire reason why he’d stayed dressed, and it drove Phillip wild.
The captain knotted the ribbons as tightly as they could be tied without causing Phillip pain. Phillip, mortified and nude and horribly aroused, watched as the captain stood back and observed him, fully clothed once more.
“Cap— Cap’n, please—“
The captain snickered, and, once satisfied that Phillip could not reach him, finally began to undress. The belt came undone for a second time, and he shrugged out of the thin white shirt, finally baring a beautifully sculpted chest. He stepped out of his trousers and undergarments, tossing them carelessly to the floor.
Phillip’s lips formed verbal pleas before he could stop himself. The captain was pure power and muscle and solid art and Phillip craved every inch of him. He whimpered and pulled at his restraints.
“Please,” he whispered. “Please.”
Along with the ribbons, the captain brought in a small jar of oil which he now twisted open and dipped his fingers into. Phillip whimpered again and pulled at his restraints again, spreading his legs as far as they would go. His cock stood to attention and his body yearned to be touched, knowing the pleasure that just fingers alone would bring him.
“Such a little whore.” The captain shook his head. He bit his lip in an attempt to hide his smirk. “How many travels have you been on, boy? How many seamen have you spread open for?”
Phillip’s cock twitched and, having nothing to grab or hold onto, he balled his hands into fists. “Only you, my c-captain. Only you.”
He could not tear his eyes from the captain’s hand, glistening wet with oil. His body sang for it.
Seeming satisfied with Phillip’s answer, the captain’s lip finally curled into that familiar smirk. He came to the bed and knelt in front of Phillip’s spread legs, the younger’s hips rising in eager anticipation.
“Please,” he begged again, over and over, “Please.”
The first brush of the captain’s fingers, wet with oil, had Phillip whimpering and straining to press closer. The captain’s amber eyes bore into his as he took his time pressing his finger to Phillip’s hole, then pressing in. One, then two. Phillip gasped, begged for more.
“So needy,” the captain patronized, even he pushed in a third finger. But, Phillip didn’t miss the catch in his voice, the excitement. Phineas wanted this as much as Phillip did and the thought made Phillip feel smug, even as he greedily moaned.
Phineas’s long fingers were rough and calloused from years of hard labor on the railroad, and it didn’t take much to imagine the scarred hands of a rugged sea captain were the ones that fucked into him. Phillip clenched tight around those fingers as he closed his eyes, pleased to hear the resulting low moan from the captain.
Suddenly daring, Phillip opened his eyes and opened his mouth to gloat. But rough, soft lips pressed against his instead, and he sighed deep into the kiss. Lips warm and slightly chapped, the captain worked his tongue into Phillip’s eager mouth as his fingers worked Phillip’s equally eager body.
As they pulled back for air, Phillip sighed, “Phineas.”
“Captain,” Phineas growled. He thrust his fingers in particularly hard and Phillip gasped again, jerking upward.
“Captain,” Phillip obediently repeated, pressing his head into the pillow as he arched his neck. The captain groaned low in approval as he dipped his head, teeth grazing along Phillip’s neck. His teeth nicked as he bit down and Phillip moaned, loudly. He could feel the captain’s smirk against his skin.
Lips pressed to Phillip’s pulse point as the captain curled his fingers. Phillip cried out as fingertips lightly brushed against something inside him, heart rate jumping, and Phineas grinned against his pulse. In an action much too gentle for a pirate, Phineas kissed Phillip’s neck as he slowly pulled out his fingers.
Phillip whimpered and instinctively clenched around nothing. He looked up at Phineas with wide eyes, bright and nearly brimming with tears.
“Don’t give me that face,” the captain chided. He stood and, using the same hand that had been inside Phillip moments earlier, coated his own cock with oil. He jerked himself lazily, slowly, smirking as Phillip watched.
Phillip’s body reacted from both ends, saliva filling his mouth and hole twitching in anticipation. He licked his lips and pulled at his restraints, frustrated, a tear rolling down his cheek. His face flamed with color, though he wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment, arousal, or both.
He couldn’t remember ever crying in his dreams. Somehow, Phineas — his Phineas, his captain — drove him more wild than the man in his dreams ever could.
If he could reach out to the man, he would. He no longer cared how he looked, he no longer cared how much he begged. Squirming on the bed, he pleaded, “Please, Captain. Have me. Take me.”
He watched as the captain’s eyes widened, then darkened. Hand falling from his cock, the captain climbed onto the bed and crawled over him. Wrapping Phillip’s legs around his waist, he claimed Phillip’s lips in another kiss, rougher than the last, tugging at Phillip’s lower lip. He relished in the sounds Phillip made as he moaned into his mouth.
“Please, sir,” Phillip whispered in between a breath for air. He couldn’t wait anymore.
Phillip whimpered when the captain’s cock brushed against his ass, the tip teasing his hole. The captain pulled away from the kiss, breaking it for good, to grip his cock and slowly guide it into Phillip.
Phillip moaned, loud, louder, his heels digging into the captain’s backside, as the man entered him. Finally, finally. His fingers twitched, arms aching to wrap around Phineas, and his legs clung as tight as they could, guiding the captain as he drove into him.
In his captain persona, Phineas wasn’t as liberal with the oil as he would have been otherwise, and, though he hadn’t noticed before, Phillip could feel it. He moaned at the new burn, the new pull, the new stretch, just enough to recognize the difference in a lot of lube versus a little without physically hurting him. The feel of Phineas’s cock, smooth and curved and so deliciously his, had Phillip attempting to bear down on it and ride Phineas for all he was worth.
The captain’s pace was fast and wicked, each new caress of his cock hitting Phillip almost before he had a chance to react to the one previous. Phillip moaned, whined, called out to the man above him — every time his tongue slipped and called out Phineas instead of Captain, the captain delivered a light, but stinging slap to his cheek. It brought tears to Phillip’s eyes more than once — not from pain, but sheer arousal — and he moaned out his correction.
The bed rocked underneath the captain’s force, and the captain groaned, pressing his forehead to Phillip’s. Their kiss was sloppy and bruising, the captain biting Phillip’s lip again and swallowing his moan. All Phillip could do was moan, legs wound tight around the captain, eyes brimming with fresh tears that threatened to spill over.
The captain’s voice was rough in Phillip’s ear, telling Phillip how tight he was, how hot, how good. Every last nerve in Phillip’s body felt like it was on fire, and when the captain stopped the bruising pace, Phillip had to swallow a broken scream.
Phillip’s mouth was ready with protests as the captain, panting, moved up to untie Phillip’s ribbons. Phillip gasped, and then moaned as his wrists were finally freed, his hands immediately moving to dig into the captain’s back.
Grunting, the captain resumed his ministrations, maneuvering Phillip’s hips to fuck deeper into him, faster. Phillip had to concentrate on remembering to breathe, fingers more like claws as they scratched down the man’s back. His hands were everywhere at once, as if making up for lost time, painting Phineas’s back like a canvas.
When the captain’s hand lowered, taking hold of Phillip’s cock, Phillip screamed out. “Ph-Ph-Phineas!”
The captain did not correct him as he spilled all over their chests.
Gasping, almost struggling to force air into his lungs, Phillip’s head fell back against the bed frame. The captain paused for the briefest moment, allowing Phillip to properly come and suck in a mouthful of air, but quickly picked up his pace just as before. He was grunting now, head bowed low, eyes squeezed shut. Phillip knew he was close.
Moaning still as the captain fucked inside him, Phillip grabbed the captain’s hands and loosely twined their fingers together. He panted and moaned as the captain squeezed his hands in an almost perfect rhythm.
The captain’s hips beginning to stutter, a high moan broke from Phillip’s lips. He clenched tight around Phineas’s cock, held him tight with his legs, and watched in utter rapture as the man’s face contorted.
The captain’s moan was broken by a string of curses as he slammed into his orgasm. Panting, he squeezed Phillip’s hands and buried his face in Phillip’s neck, inhaling sweat and sex.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
As his hips stilled and he laid limp inside Phillip, Phillip kissed his sweaty brow. He looked up, hardened face of the captain immediately melting away into Phineas’s familiar loving gaze.
“Are you all right?” Phineas asked, voice husky. Shifting, he slowly pulled out of Phillip and rolled away, their chests a mess of Phillip’s come. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“No,” Phillip breathed. It took a moment to collect himself, but then he swore, “That was incredible, Phineas... you are incredible.”
Phineas smiled — though it looked suspiciously like a smirk. “Welcome home.”
“God.” Somehow, Phillip found enough energy to press his hands over his eyes. “I can’t believe you—“
Phineas’s deep chuckle interrupted him, and he sighed as Phineas kissed his flushed cheek.
“You know,” Phineas mused, running a hand through Phillip’s terribly messy hair, “I still have quite a lot of material to go through...”
Phillip’s eyes widened and he shot up, meeting Phineas’s stupidly amused gaze. “You wouldn’t.”
“Are you complaining?” Phineas smirked.
Phillip groaned and flopped back against the pillows. He lifted his eyes as Phineas loomed over him.
“I didn’t hear a ‘yes,’” Phineas mumbled, before catching Phillip’s lips in a soft, languid kiss.
Phillip sighed as they broke apart. Eyelids suddenly heavy, he smiled up at Phineas.
“Whatever you want,” he promised, sleep coating his voice. “I just have one question...”
“Hmmm?”
Their eyes met.
“What, exactly, did you clean?”
——
Completely unbetaed, so if you made it this far you get a gold star
#barlyle#lemons ahoy#get it? ahoy? sea captains?#i’m hilarious#the greatest showman#greatest showman#tgs#pt barnum#phineas barnum#phineas taylor barnum#phillip carlyle#journal#journal fic#askcarlyle#askbarnum
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
He had almost fooled himself into believing his parents had just chosen to ignore the Sorting.
After all, Sirius had been rebelling against their ridiculous pureblood rubbish for years now, ever since his mother had sat him and Regulus down at the ages of 8 and 6 to teach them about their "place in the world" -- which was, in a nutshell, a few miles above everything and everyone else.
"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black stands alone," Walburga Black had said, head held so high Sirius thought she might bump her nose on the chandelier. "The blood of no other family in the wizarding world is as pure."
When Sirius suggested they may want to rethink that eventually, lest they run out of cousins to marry, she had forced him to write their House words -- "Toujours Pur", Always Pure -- twenty times with a Black Quill, a dark artefact Sirius figured was so named because some psychotic relation of his probably invented it. Afterwards, she'd locked him in his room for three days, a punishment that always came as more of a relief to him than anything else.
Once the stinging in his hand subsided, and with his well-hidden stash of sweets available to stave off hunger, Sirius filled the hours with the only happiness that existed for him at 12 Grimmauld Place: the world just outside it.
Entirely unnoticed by the objects of his attention due to the strong Muggle-Repelling Charms that guarded the home, he would open his window, sit on the sill, and watch the muggles of Islington go about their daily lives. Besuited businessmen filled the sidewalks in the early mornings and evenings, rushing to and from the bus stop or the Underground station like well-dressed ants. Shop workers, students, and families walked and bicycled about. At night, there would be couples out for a stroll, policemen making their rounds, and, if he was particularly lucky, a drunken scrap now and again.
He'd experienced his first burst of accidental magic on that sill one evening when he witnessed a thief snatch the handbag of an elderly woman. The woman's distressed cries upset and infuriated him, and he'd leaned out the window to shout for help, forgetting that no one would hear. Instead, however, he felt his magic surge outwards and watched as the snatcher's progress abruptly halted, as if he'd slammed into an invisible wall. The man fell to the sidewalk, unconscious, allowing the woman to retrieve her bag and a constable time to arrive.
Sirius had felt something he never had before, and hadn't since: proud of himself.
He especially enjoyed watching the neighbourhood children, though it always left him melancholy. Over the years, he'd learnt a fair bit about muggle sports from studying their condensed games of football and cricket. They'd greatly contributed to the expansion of the colourful vocabulary he now prided himself on -- and that his parents tried in vain to beat out of him -- and he'd dreamt up hundreds of adventures they could go on together, if only he could join in. He'd resolved so many times to march down the stairs and right out into the street before remembering he'd be hard put to explain his appearance out of seemingly nowhere.
But what captured Sirius's heart more than anything else he saw from his bedroom window were the cars and motorbikes. He delighted in the colourful automobiles that made their way up and down the street; shining red Cortinas and sleek black Capris rumbled along, their proud young owners vying for the attention of passing girls. He was particularly enamoured of the motorbikes -- the freedom and danger they exuded, the smell of the exhaust, the roar of the engines when a pair would set off on an impromptu race.
His fascination with the muggle world did not go unnoticed by his mother. On occasions she'd caught him drawing pictures of bikes or explaining some of the finer points of football to Regulus, she'd shut him in the vast family library with their loathsome house-elf, Kreacher, standing guard to ensure he read the stack of books she set before him -- books on wizarding superiority and the expectations and responsibilities that came with being a member of pureblood society. Sirius would read until his stomach turned at the things the books implied, then flip the pages absently as he imagined what his life would be like once his Hogwarts letter arrived.
Any scenario that found him away from his parents for the better part of the seven years that would lead him into adulthood was a pleasant one. But even exhilarating thoughts of residing in the majestic castle he'd seen in photographs and learning to harness his magic were tempered by fear over whether he'd finally find the friendship he so desperately craved.
Sirius knew which House he was destined for. He couldn't forget if he tried -- he went to sleep each night and woke every morning to the sight of the green and silver bedclothes and curtains that draped both his and Regulus's beds. He also knew Slytherin House's reputation, and that if his deductions were correct, it was about to go from bad to worse.
Sirius's Uncle Alphard, his mother's brother and the only member of his family, save Regulus, who had ever shown him any kindness, was aware of his young nephew's fondness for all things muggle. Entertained by it -- and all too conscious of the fact the boy needed occasional reprieve from Grimmauld Place -- he'd become Sirius's chief source of information when it came to the world running parallel to their own, taking him on outings when he could to the chiefly muggle areas of the city. Alphard had also gifted him a set of books written by a wizard author for muggle entertainment. His uncle told him if there were three skills above all others he would do well to develop as a member of the House of Black, observance, vigilance, and suspicion would comprise the list. Sirius had read the exploits of Sherlock Holmes eagerly, and more out of boredom than any desire to know what his parents and their company prattled on about, he had become a rather talented eavesdropper, lurker, and amateur sleuth. Through those pastimes, he was aware of unrest in the wizarding world, unrest fueled by blood supremacists who felt the time had come to "further assert" their lofty status. Sirius was as yet unsure what exactly they meant by that; he did, however, know the conversations filled him with a cold sense of dread.
But foreboding aside, Sirius was also already acquainted with most of the other scions with whom he was meant to share the dungeons of Hogwarts. He'd met them at weddings, funerals, banquets, balls, and all other manner of wretched social affairs for which he was violently stuffed into uncomfortable dress robes by Kreacher and threatened within an inch of his life against shaming his noble and most ancient House. They were a dull, tedious, jumped-up lot of all-around smarmy gits -- his various and sundry cousins included -- and he'd long ago resigned himself to the fact he would have to rely on the good graces of members of some other House if he hoped to establish even a casual friendship.
Then he'd ducked into a random compartment on the Hogwarts Express and found pieces of himself he hadn't even realised were missing.
Warmed by thoughts of his friends as he made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, Sirius clapped James on the back as he dropped into his seat. The boy grinned at him before tossing a piece of bacon across the table at Remus, who had his nose stuck in a book. Peter laughed loudly.
Sirius felt happier than he reckoned he had a right to, and perhaps that's what jinxed him.
He hadn't even looked up when the owls came soaring into the room with the morning post. The thought of any fond letters or care packages from home arriving for him was laughable. He was therefore caught completely unawares when his family's great grey owl, Nobilis, dove low over him, dropping a bright-red envelope onto his plate and pecking him hard on the head before reversing course. "Ducklifors!" Sirius shouted, aiming his wand at the moving target. Nobilis's screech quickly became a series of quacks as the bird transformed into a duck before escaping out the window.
"With any luck, it's bloody hunting season in Hogsmeade," Sirius muttered.
"Nice shot!" James said, impressed, before turning his attention to the envelope on Sirius's plate. "Oh, bugger, mate..."
Sirius stared at the Howler with pure hatred in his eyes. She'd waited on purpose. Letting him get comfortable, probably counting on the fact he'd been able to forge a friendship or two amongst his new Housemates by now. He knew how her callous mind worked. Whatever words were slithering around inside that envelope, she intended them to ruin him. To further incite the Slytherins, likely, but primarily to humiliate him in front of his fellow Gryffindors. To let them know he wasn't one of them. To make them mistrust him. Suddenly afraid, he glanced briefly at the faces of his friends. Had a week been long enough? Did they have sufficient measure of him to know he'd never betray them? Or would the looks of concern and anger on their faces soon turn to scepticism?
The Hall grew quiet, all eyes on the Gryffindor table.
"Sirius, we can take that thing outside--" James began.
"No," Sirius said firmly through clenched teeth. "Everybody's seen it now. If I run out of here, it'll just make me look weaker than setting the fucking thing off will."
With that, he picked up a knife and slashed the edge off the envelope in one furious motion.
The Howler rose off the table, morphing itself into an angry mouth, its parchment teeth gnashing, before Walburga's screeching voice issued forth.
"SIRIUS ORION BLACK, YOU CONTEMPTIBLE WRETCH! HOW DARE YOU STAIN THE NAME OF YOUR NOBLE AND MOST ANCIENT HOUSE! THE SHAME YOU HAVE BROUGHT UPON YOUR FAMILY! GENERATIONS OF PROUD, RESPECTABLE WIZARDS AND WITCHES, ALL DISGRACED BY YOUR DEVIANT BEHAVIOUR! YOUR FATHER AND I, UNABLE TO SHOW OUR FACES IN PUBLIC! CONSORTING WITH BLOOD TRAITORS AND MUDBLOODS IN THAT ABOMINATION OF A HOUSE! DO YOUR LITTLE COHORTS KNOW THE LENGTHS TO WHICH YOU WENT TO MANIPULATE YOUR WAY INTO THEIR RANKS? WHAT YOU REALLY ARE? WHAT YOU WILL BECOME, REGARDLESS OF YOUR PATHETIC ATTEMPTS TO FURTHER EMBARRASS--"
The Howler was cut off midstream by James’s fist, which he thrust into its mouth before grabbing hold of its ribbon tongue and yanking roughly, turning the thing inside out. He proceeded to swing it upward by the ribbon, then back down as hard as he could, bashing it against the table. The Howler disintegrated into a pile of paper shreds, which James promptly set on fire.
"That's a filthy lie," he snapped to the shocked faces at the Gryffindor table. "The Sorting Hat cannot be manipulated. You can say whatever you like to it, but it makes the final decision, and it puts you where you belong. End of story."
"Mr Potter is entirely correct!" a distressed-looking Professor McGonagall called from the High Table.
James stared at their classmates, challenging anyone to dispute the fact. Lupin, Pettigrew, and Longbottom were the first to recover, followed quickly by the Prewett twins.
"Absolutely!"
"Everyone knows that."
"Ridiculous to suggest otherwise."
"Black is as Gryffindor as any of us!"
"Way more than Gideon, if we're being honest."
The rest of their Housemates were soon murmuring similar words of agreement. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables remained silent, but the derisive laughter beginning to rise from the Slytherin table was difficult to ignore.
Sirius sat staring at the pile of ashes. Everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion, like a nightmare made all the worse by the fact he knew himself to be awake.
That's not a mother.
Never had been. Mothers held their children when they cried, they didn't make them cry. They read them fairy tales, not doctrines.
His wide, glazed eyes turned on their own towards his best friend. All the thoughts and feelings careening around Sirius's mind at that moment made him feel quite mad, but James was something he could focus on -- his first real friend. He wanted to stand up and rake every dish, platter, and goblet on the table into the floor and kick them into the stone wall behind them, and he knew James would dare anyone to stop him. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to curse Walburga Black with every expletive he could think of, and he knew James would remind him of any creative adjectives he forgot. He wanted to let the sobs he was forcibly confining to the pit of his chest come tearing out of him like a hurricane--
Something in his eyes must have changed at that last thought, because James’s hand shot out and clutched Sirius’s shoulder firmly. "Laugh at it," James whispered, his lips barely moving, an urgent look on his face. "She’s pathetic and cruel and quite frankly sounds like an Augurey being plucked, so LAUGH AT IT."
For a split second, Sirius didn’t catch the boy’s meaning, but then it registered. James had seen both sides of the coin. And he knew Sirius desperately needed that barrier between himself and the world.
Rising, Sirius ran a casual hand through his hair before gesturing to the ash pile in front of him. "Well, then," he said loudly, his customary smirk back on his face. "Mum, everyone... everyone, Mum."
The silence held for a few more seconds before students all over the Hall began bursting into laughter. Soon, the entirety of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables were roaring, and Sirius made a show of blowing the remains of the Howler onto the floor before retaking his seat.
"James, mate," he said cheerfully, "pour me another pumpkin juice, will you? I think a bit of bitch landed in mine."
As the Gryffindor table erupted anew, Sirius shot James a look he hoped properly conveyed his gratitude in that moment. Judging from the smile James gave him in return, he understood. As always.
#sirius black#james potter#marauders#marauders era#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#moony wormtail padfoot and prongs#marauders map#hogwarts#harry potter#overheard at hogwarts#harry potter headcanon#frank longbottom#minerva mcgonagall#gryffindor#hufflepuff#ravenclaw#slytherin#walburga black#regulus black#alphard black#orion black#fabian prewett#gideon prewett#12 grimmauld place#james and sirius#hp#kreacher
161 notes
·
View notes
Text
How to connect the Roku device to a TV
Roku TV is a savvy TV with an inherent TV show, a basic, natural interface, observe live TV with bits of help of a reception apparatus, and attempt to get to associated gadgets like a Blu-beam player or link set-top box. An easy to-utilize remote and the free portable application let you control your Roku TV and quest for films, shows and more across top gushing administrations and communicate TV in your general vicinity. The expansion of amazing highlights like Pause Live TC and Smart guide make Roku TV a convincing savvy TV experience.
It might be ideal in the event that you how to set up a roku without a remote unloaded your new Roku Tv before you can begin utilizing I. Append or associate the base which is incorporated to divider mount make associations, and afterward complete the Guided Setup wizard. This post gives little subtleties of the immediate Setup. For more data on unloading and appending the base, read the fast beginning aide that remembered for Roku TV box of yours. Profundity directions when making associations, finishing the Guided Setup, utilizing highlights, or arranging settings; allude to the Roku Remote Setup or watch the arrangement video.
Prerequisites For Roku TV Setup
For appreciating the gushing substance, you will require a remote web association and obviously, a record on Roku. Here you need to take note of that there will never be a charge to make a record on Roku. In the event that you select the choice of not to associate your Roku TV to the system (web) and attempt to utilize it as a conventional TV. Stopped at least one survey sources, for example, a radio wire to link or satellite box, game comfort.
1] Insert batteries in the remote control
Your Roku remote control accompanies a couple of coordinated cells of the best possible size. In remote control open it's back spread and embed or the batteries in it. What's more, watch the right extremity, as showed inside the battery compartment. Reattach the back spread.
2] Turn the TV On
The light beneath reserve pointer of the TV screen ought to be ON and ought to show that the TV has power (on). What's more, press the catch of effect on your control of Roku TV remote. The backup marker light will go shut (off), and after a sec later, you can watch the screen of TV's startup.
3] Choose a language For Your Roku Setup
At the point when your Roku TV Set up powers on, the principal screen will permit you to pick a style. All content and discourse inside the Roku application will show in the chose language alternative. At that point, you should look here and there the rundown and press the OK button on your Roku TV remote to pick a style.
4] Select The Option Of Home Use
Right now, are setting up your Roku TV for use as a store show, select Set up for home use.
5] Connect your Roku TV to your particular Internet organize
From the rundown of accessible frameworks, select your remote system and enter your secret phrase. More often than not, it is the specific system you use to interface your PC or cell phone to the web. In the event that from the outset, you don't see your system, select output again to see all frameworks. For more help, see help for finding your remote system and secret word. Are you need to consider your to be as you type, pick the choice of show secret key. Here we propose you keep your passwords in your brain as it is delicate things. Utilize the catch of move on the on-screen console to enter a capital letter. At the point when You have presented your secret word select Connect, your Roku TV will consequently associate with your system and the web.
6] Download The Software of the Newest Version
When it associated with the web, your Roku TV will download the most recent variant of Roku OS programming and afterward reboot.
7] Create And Activate Your Roku TV Account
To Roku Tv arrangement initiation, it must connect to an Account of Roku. Your record of Roku monitors which gadget of Roku you claim. It permits you to include free and buy channels from the Roku Channel Store.
8] Connect your Roku Setup With Tv
Now, Guided Setup ought to be on the Let's associate your gadgets screen. On the off chance that you not effectively done as such, interface your gadgets, for example, your link box, game comfort, Blu-beam or DVD player, or VCR. In the event that you are utilizing your Roku TV with a soundbar or home theater collector, interface these too.
Turn on the entirety of your associated gadgets. Your Roku TV can recognize specific sorts of gadgets, so it prompts you to turn them on before continuing. At the point when perusers select everything is connected and turned on, and afterward follow the basic prompts to finish this progression for each info.
Press an OK button. Afterward, press OK button again to check that everything is associated and turn it on. At that point, Setup guided requests that you appoint a name and symbol to the gadget associated with the primary information. You can choose from menu preselected drop-down or choose Set custom name& symbol to redo the roku streaming stick setup without remote information name and browse a symbol menu. Following a couple of moments, the screen likewise shows a little window demonstrating the program playing on the gadget associated with the information, assuming any. Go through and DOWN bolt fastens to look through the rundown. At that point press the OK catch to make your determination.
9] Optional – interfacing a flying?
Right now not part of Guided Setup, and applies just on the off chance that you are utilizing the contribution of Live TV.
In this way, here the means You're currently prepared to begin viewing your preferred shows, as your Roku TV set up is presently prepared to introduce.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Mods’ Reads: December 2018
Here’s the list of everything the Mods have read this past month!
Mod Blue
Red Right Hand* by littleblackfox (complete | 71,532 | M)
*graphic violence
"Steven,” Erskine says, his expression shifting from kindly to something sharper. “Make no mistake, there are things that go bump in the night. And we are the things who bump back.”
In 1943 Johann Schmidt attempts to open a portal to the nine realms to raise a demonic army against the Allied Forces. His efforts are thwarted by Abraham Erskine and the Howling Commandos, but not before something comes through - a child. A demon child, his body flame-red but for his silver left arm.
Seventy years later Steve Rogers, still reeling from an encounter with a Djinn, is offered a job with the mysterious SSR, and comes face to face with the legendary Hellboy.
If You Ever Did Believe by wearing_tearing (oneshot | 33,192 | M)
Bucky Barnes will never die of a broken heart. The spell he cast at thirteen, in between white petals and whispered words of magic, makes sure of that.
But then Bucky murders someone, conspires with his sister to hide the body, and meets Steve Rogers.
Untitled Bullshit by hakunahistata, Izulkowa (complete | 16,678 | T)
“Date?” Steve smiles.
“Yeah, you an’ me. Dinner and a movie, or we could always skip straight to the fun stuff. I’m easy.”
Steve shakes his head with a small laugh. “Think you have the wrong idea, pal.”
“One of these days I’m gonna convince you that it’s me who has the right idea.” Bucky says, just like he does every appointment.
***
After an injury leaves Bucky Barnes armless, jobless, and back at his parent’s house, he meets his physical therapist, Steve Rogers. It’s not the best timing but it’s certainly not the worst.
The Courage In Silence Speaks Of Love* by Menatiera, Tsuminoaru (complete | 65,135 | M)
*graphic violence
"Steve was used to weird things. He was used to mundane things too. What he wasn’t used to, however, was waking up at the crack of dawn to find an unconscious man in his backyard, clearly the reason behind the alarms being triggered."
Life isn't particularly exciting for an expelled Summer Knight in the human world, years after his mortal love died of old age. So he's a little surprised when his old world comes knocking on his door in the form of a wounded, masked and voiceless fey.
Turns out, the new visitor has a past, too, and when it catches up with them, the Summer Knight's life is going to get interesting again.
Unfortunately, among the Sidhe, interesting almost always means dangerous. To them, and to those who they want to protect as well.
it won't be a stylish marriage by mambo (oneshot | 1,546 | G)
Steve wants to propose.
But he's a little shy.
In My Cold Arms by alby_mangroves, coldwinterrose (Eris13), maichan (complete | 35,656 | E)
After James’ rescue in 1991, he felt like he’d built a pretty good, if slightly lonely, life for himself. He had a beautiful cabin in the woods, his cats for company, and his woodworking and knitting to keep him busy. One day though, he gets a phone call that could change everything.
When Steve woke to an unexpected and shocking future, he was at a loss for what to do with himself. There were no more wars to fight, and no home to go back to. He struggled to figure out who he is in this new world; until he finds that maybe he didn’t lose as much as he first thought.
Part 2 of blessed be the boys time can't capture
At Sixes and Sevens by Speranza (oneshot | 2,938 | M)
Part 13 of 4 Minute Window
Hearts Like Ours by FindingFrancis, wearing_tearing (complete | 100,590 | E)
“You’re kind of a weird one, aren’t you?”
Bucky gasps, all mock-offense. “We’re rolling with the insults today, aren’t we?”
Steve flushes again, shoulders tight. “Sorry. Just… Sorry.”
Bucky’s expression softens, and he goes with his gut as he reaches a hand out, fingers grazing the back of Steve’s hand on the table. Steve’s skin is warm, just as Bucky thought it would be. “It’s okay. It’s actually kind of nice knowing you can match my level of asshole.”
*
Today, of all days, is the day Bucky is going to meet the love of his life. Imagine his surprise when it turns out to be Captain America.
Or: The Adventures of Bucky Barnes, the Shitty Psychic.
Lovecraft in Brooklyn* by littleblackfox (complete | 20,562 | E)
*graphic violence
Bucky shrugs. “My brothers wish me dead. But I have claimed this world as mine, and should any dare approach I will slaughter them, and their progeny.”
“Oh,” Steve says weakly. “Well, it’s tough coming from a large family.”
Part 1 of Lovecraft in Brooklyn
We Are Salmon in the Stream After Years At Sea* by littleblackfox (complete | 18,218 | E)
*graphic violence
Steve sighs. “This creepy looking hobo cornered me in the store, spouting some shit about congress with an abomination.”
Bucky bares his teeth. All of them. Even Steve finds it unsettling. “I will devour him.”
“No!” Steve waves a finger under Bucky’s nose. “No eating people, remember.”
“Rule number one,” Bucky grumbles. “No eating humans, or human-like things.” He gives Steve a sullen glare. “I will rend his foul tongue from his worthless form.”
“Well, so long as you don’t eat it afterwards.”
Part 2 of Lovecraft in Brooklyn
sun falls moon lights by silentwalrus (oneshot | 1,726 | G)
'Tis the season.
Part 3 of Bucky Barnes Gets His Groove Back & Other International Incidents
back seat drive by silentwalrus (oneshot | 9,683 | E) (reread)
Bucky wants a car. Bucky gets a car. Now Bucky wants to blow Steve while he’s driving the car.
It’s awful, how Steve just keeps giving him what he wants.
Part 1 of ridin'
under the hood by silentwalrus (oneshot | 17,007 | E)
Steve continues his terrible campaign of giving Bucky things. Bucky continues various terrible campaigns of his own.
Part 2 of ridin'
No Sacrifice Required* by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 8,722 | E)
*graphic violence
Tentacle Gods: do not mix with Hydra.
Part 1 of Consentacles: Adventures of an Elder God
Tentacles in Love by cleo4u2, xantissa (oneshot | 10,119 | E)
No matter how Clint looked at it, the guy visiting Disneyland and window shopping while eating ice cream could not be the Winter Soldier, much less the reason for the trail of murder and mayhem he and Natasha were following. It couldn’t be the pretty, not-all-there companion either. But someone was leaving Hydra bodies, half-eaten and crushed, all along the Pacific seaboard. Someone who happened to be where the Winter Soldier and his pretty blond friend happened to be.
Part 2 of Consentacles: Adventures of an Elder God
Common Revelations and Other Catastrophes by maikurosaki, Stucky1980 (complete | 29,118 | E)
In retrospect, the moment it dawned on Bucky that he might be in love with his best friend wasn't really a big deal. In fact, as far as epiphanies went, this one was actually kind of underwhelming. Maybe Bucky had lived his whole life with the misconception that an epiphany was supposed to change him forever and doom him to a permanent state of revelation that would make him see clearly the pathway of his life.
What a bunch of crap!
Starlight* by Hopeless--Geek (wuzzy90), littleblackfox (complete | 50,707 | M)
*graphic violence
There is no time. No time to process, no time to grieve. Steve pushes the horror, the guilt, down into the pit of his stomach, a lead weight that would crush him if he allowed it.
The noise from the array distorts, changing in frequency as the light flares up, painfully bright. Steve turns away, shielding his eyes, and sees the Borg on the walkway before him move stiffly, its head still bowed.
It slowly rises, lifting its head. The red laser sighted by its right eye strobes across Steve’s face as it turns towards him.
It was human, once. It’s eyes a shade of blue that Steve hasn’t seen in half a lifetime.
I know you.
Hold My Hand Along The Shore by littleblackfox (oneshot | 5,284 | G)
So there were these two guys. They had never met, never spoken to each other, but one day one of them wrote a letter.
If you held my hand, I would feel it.
Check, Mate? by talkplaylove-art (talkplaylove), wearing_tearing (oneshot | 1,938 | T)
A notification from Check, Mate? blinks back at him. Steve’s heart speeds up when he opens the app and then his face breaks into a blinding grin when sees what’s waiting for him.
James likes him back.
Part 1 of endgame
Part 5 of Happy Steve Bingo
Just About Half-Past Ten by rohkeutta (oneshot | 1,979 | T)
But as he reaches Madison Avenue, Stark Tower a mere block away, the skies open with a whoosh, and he barely manages to duck under the construction scaffolding perched over the sidewalk. Thunder rumbles overhead, and Bucky frantically checks every compartment of his bag for an umbrella he knowsis there.
It’s not. He does find some loose glitter, though, and a lipstick he wore for Pride and had thought he’d lost, plus a spare Metro Card he can’t remember buying.
He also gets a crystal clear flashback of leaving the umbrella under his desk to dry yesterday morning, and never picking it up again.
Leave Those Umbrellas At Home by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,441 | T)
Bucky watches the watery snow come down and thinks about it, his mood deflating steadily. He imagines Steve going home the next morning, sitting down at his desk and opening his Super-Secret Sexcapade Journal and writing Bucky’s name in next to a carefully-thought Preparation & Performance Grade.
B+ for the effort to look nice naked, C- for being embarrassingly vanilla and wanting to do it face-to-face so he could scritch his fingers through Steve’s beard and hair. Not worth a repetition. Kinky Grade: F.
Bucky’s being uncharitable and he knows it, but Hangry Barnes can be a sad sack of shit when he wants to.
Get Scrooged by alby_mangroves, leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (complete | 19,765 | T)
You'll be haunted by three spirits. The first is gonna come tomorrow when the bell tolls one. That's in the morning. The second's gonna come the next day at the same time, and the third, same again.
Bucky was keeping his head down in his tiny apartment in Bucharest, because that's what you did when you were a former brainwashed assassin and never knew who might be coming after you. You kept your head down, you didn't draw attention, and you tried real hard not to think about what you'd done, all while trying to piece together your fractured memory.
But it doesn't matter how down you keep your head—once the Bureau of Christmas Spirit has you in its sights, you're getting a visit from the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Yet to Come. No appeal, no review, and you can't lock the doors and pretend you're not home.
Luckily for Bucky his Ghosts have their own agenda, but whatever happens...someone's getting Scrooged.
buachaill sciobail by silentwalrus (complete | 5,271 | not rated)
“Okay,” Sam says. “Okay. Alright. O-kay. I just, I gotta say, man, when you told me ‘Bucky is a selkie’ this is not... really…. what I... imagined.”
“What did you imagine?” Steve says. Across his lap - or rather covering his entire body from the waist down - the eight hundred pound tube of blubber that is J.B. Barnes blows a snot bubble.
Part 1 of barnacle boy
teach your man to fish by silentwalrus (oneshot | 12,835 | T)
Bucky doesn’t deign to stay in Stark Tower for much longer than it takes to completely clean out the kitchens’ fish supply. After slurping down the last oyster and sneering in disgust at the contents of the walk-in freezer, Bucky turns to Steve, pelt over his shoulder, and says, “Where do you live?”
Podfic available by the magnificent Quietnight!
Part 2 of barnacle boy
where the dread fern grows by silentwalrus (oneshot | 6,684 | G)
Sam's gotta buy a wedding present, and nothing but elf booze will do.
Part 1 of a greenhouse in brooklyn
march of the pumpkins by silentwalrus (oneshot | 2,380 | G)
Halloween in Brooklyn, bog witch style.
Part 2 of a greenhouse in brooklyn
Scenes From A Marriage: Mailbag by Speranza (complete | 17,908 | not rated)
This is the 4 Minute Window Advent calendar for 2018! As always, my goal is to tell a little bit of story each day (knock wood) between the Immaculate Conception and Christmas. Explicit eventually, the rest as it comes. This year's story features letters written, in world, to Captain America. If you want to write a letter to Cap, drop it in the comments or email me and I might use it (but no promises, because this is a terrifying tightwire act as it is.) Also feel free to request things you want to see and I'll see what I can do. Hope you enjoy: buckle up!
Part 14 of 4 Minute Window
Wrecks My Nerves by castiowl (complete | 48,344 | E)
Honestly, all Bucky wants to do is win Hell's Kitchen so he can get out of his shitty apartment and be happy for once in his life, but then Steve is there and he's awful and wonderful and terrible and ruining everything. It's the Avengers: Hell's Kitchen!
The Big American Family Cooking Showdown by dearlydraupadi (complete | 11,066 | G)
Steve Rogers is a cameraman for the Big American Family Cooking Showdown. Bucky Barnes is a contestant along with his mother and sister. Steve Rogers can't stop filming Bucky Barnes' beautiful face. It's not long before the rest of the crew is getting annoyed, Bucky is getting a clue, and Steve is getting embarrassed. Welcome to the Big American Family Cooking Showdown!
Art for Art's Sake by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) (oneshot | 4,101 | T)
“But Professor Barnes is more fun,” Steve said, smiling wickedly, pressing the tip of one long finger to Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s brain flatlined at the contact, left him blinking down at Steve. Steve watched him for a bit, then his smile softened and he let his hand fall. “James, then. And you can explain what’s so fascinating about the painting.”
Bucky pulled himself together with an effort. “I think the artist who painted this was having some fun. Maybe he didn’t like the guy he was painting it for?” Steve looked at him sharply. Bucky didn’t quite know why, maybe he'd made some sort of art faux pas, but he pointed at the shadowy spot with the pigs. “Here. You can tell me if I’m imagining it.”
Steve leaned in, following the line of Bucky’s finger, one hand settling gracefully onto Bucky’s bicep for balance. His hand was warm, his long fingers strong and supple as they curled slightly, and Bucky swallowed hard and called himself nine kinds of idiot. He was a grown man, not some high school kid with a crush. Steve’s hand was on his arm, not anywhere interesting. This was stupid.
His suddenly racing heart seemed determined to ignore the message.
no matter how long the day is (i'll come home to you) by alby_mangroves, talkplaylove (oneshot | 27,769 | T)
Steve’s spent an hour along Portobello Road before he sees the paparazzi on the left side of the street, trying to be inconspicuous by a street lamp. He crosses the street and ducks into the first store he sees, tucked behind a screaming red door and under a blue and white striped awning.
He listens, feet planted in front of the door, shoulders tense, as he looks around the shop. Row upon row of books are on the shelves in front of him, the wood creaking under their weight. Behind the counter is a dark haired man wearing a jacket, elbow on the table, stubbled chin on one hand, gloved left hand flipping the pages of a book.
No one follows Steve in.
Or, the one where Captain America travels the world, learns how to be Steve Rogers again, and meets Bucky Barnes along the way.
Also: the one where two old souls fall in love over young adult books, long distance calls, and texting at strange hours of the day.
The Heart of a Dying Star by layersofart (layersofsilence), velleities (complete | 38,200 | E)
As ancient legends have it, mighty magical weapons can be forged in the heart of a dying star.
Wanda, driven by her desire to avenge her brother’s death and backed by Hydra and their secret plans, uses ancient magic to knock a star down from the sky.
Halfway across the land, Steve, the Captain of the Avengers Guard, finds a fallen star named Bucky.
Mod Julia
Steve Rogers and the minefields of social media by cpt_winniethepooh (oneshot | 1,795 | T)
Steve gets a Twitter account, then an Instagram one, then he gets Bucky back, too.
Kissin' by the mistletoe (Love came to stay) by obsessivereader (oneshot | 4,949 | E)
“I told you,” Steve wheezes, as he tries to catch his breath. “Didn’t I fucking tell you we'd fall if you didn't quit pushing?”
He’d laugh if he had any air left in his lungs. Instead, all he can do is stare up at Bucky as the sound of his carefree laugh winds its way around Steve’s heart. He barely even registers the cold seeping in through his jacket and jeans as he lies in the snow, attention catching instead on the snowflake clinging to Bucky’s lashes. Were Bucky’s eyes always that luminous? The crinkles around his eyes so endearing? Were his lips always that pink?
Bucky’s laugh dies away at Steve’s continued silence. A strange expression settles on his face, like he’s looking into the face of a stranger for the first time, studying and cataloging Steve’s features one by one—eyes, nose, mouth.
Cafe Au Écoute by littlesystems (oneshot | 3,829 | T)
No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.
the audacity by mcwho (oneshot | 2,598 | M)
“I don’t know where you all got the idea that I was giving it to Steve with the lights off under the blankets in total silence by candlelight, but you’re all wrong. Wrong.”
Home is a Smell, Home is a Heartbeat by odetteandodile (oneshot | 3,633 | M)
Bucky cooks an old recipe of Sarah Rogers'.
Steve learns that sensory memory is a bitch.
It all comes out okay in the end.
Leave Those Umbrellas At Home by rohkeutta (oneshot | 2,441 | T)
Bucky watches the watery snow come down and thinks about it, his mood deflating steadily. He imagines Steve going home the next morning, sitting down at his desk and opening his Super-Secret Sexcapade Journal and writing Bucky’s name in next to a carefully-thought Preparation & Performance Grade.
B+ for the effort to look nice naked, C- for being embarrassingly vanilla and wanting to do it face-to-face so he could scritch his fingers through Steve’s beard and hair. Not worth a repetition. Kinky Grade: F.
Bucky’s being uncharitable and he knows it, but Hangry Barnes can be a sad sack of shit when he wants to.
Catch of the Day by Eremji (handsfullofdust) (oneshot | 4,680 | E)
Bucky’s not laughing at him, not where Steve can see, but after Thor gives Steve an appraising look, scratching his beard absently, and says with usual cheer, “You’re most fortunate. This enchantment is only temporary,” Bucky makes sure he’s not in Steve’s direct line of sight.
It's about par for the course that Steve Rogers get himself in all manner of trouble. A couple extra limbs are really no big deal.
all the words are gonna bleed from me by doctorenterprise (oneshot | 1,151 | M)
It’s been a long time since Steve felt such an unwavering, steady rage.
-
A brief, dark look into Steve's devotion to James Buchanan Barnes.
What Makes a Home by i_buchanan (oneshot | 14,788 | E)
Bucky's grateful to be living with Steve again. Grateful to have another chance to keep him close, regardless of the stress of keeping his feelings to himself. It would be a lot easier to do that, however, if Steve didn't seem intent on getting him more than he could think to ask for.
Long Live the Long Lost King by Kryptaria (oneshot | 1,980 | T)
Bucky had no idea he was royalty.
To be fair, it’s not like they had DNA tests and ancestry databases when he was a kid. But now? Turns out his sisters had kids, and their kids had kids, and someone got a multi-pack discount on DNA test kits.
I Can Say The Sun Burns Much Brighter Today by Kajmere (oneshot | 5,919 | T)
Over the years, Steve has learned to choose his battles wisely when it comes to arguing with Natasha. So, when she hands him a set of keys and says they’re dropping him off at one of her secure locations in the middle of Steve-can’t-even-remember, Europe, for a few days of rest, he puts up a fight for all of thirty seconds before resigning with a sigh.
Snow way out by TyrantTirade (oneshot | 17,161 | E)
The call barely goes through, Natashas voice lagging in and out until it becomes more clear. Steve hopes that it stays that way for at least a few minutes, long enough to figure out what to do to salvage the situation. So much for a winter vacation, he thinks.
“So,” he starts, “I think there's a blizzard here.”
two strangers in the bright lights by Claudia_flies (oneshot | 7,348 | E)
It really is an accident. Steve wouldn’t even call it a slip of the tongue, because what he said and the way it was heard were two different things.
christmas traditions by belovedmuerto (oneshot | 2,091 | T)
Bucky wants to know what they used to do at Christmas.
I got that good thing for you by canistakahari (oneshot | 5,830 | E)
When it comes down to it, Steve will do anything for Bucky. Even if that involves fulfilling a very specific seasonally-adjacent fantasy.
re:spite by steebadore (oneshot | 4,150 | T)
It starts, as most things do, with spite. The problem is, it doesn't end there.
A Tree for (Not Quite) Christmas by layersofsilence (oneshot | 4,348 | T)
Steve’s been up since three in the morning to deal with these assholes. All he wants now is to go back to their safehouse and nap until Tony picks them up.
Of course, he should've known better than to ruminate on that particular subject. As soon as the thought crosses his mind his peaceful bubble is absolutely and comprehensively shattered, first by the slam of a screen door and then by a small girl who barrels from her porch to crash headlong into Steve’s legs.
Undercover by glyphsbowtie (oneshot | 1,094 | T)
Steve Rogers says these words in a matter-of-fact tone that has Bucky nodding for a second, before he catches himself. “Wait- what? You're going to kick his ass?”
The tiny man next to him nods. “I don't like bullies,” he shrugs. “Anyway, I thought I would let you know because I would hate for you to get hurt.”
“Gee, thanks.” Bucky is staring in absolute shock at this adorable vigilante. “Um, has it not occurred to you to call the police, pal?”
territorial by mcwho (oneshot | 2,734 | E)
The thing about Steve Rogers is that he’s a jealous, possessive, Grade-A All-American asshole
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Saturday 11th August, 2018
I’d call this a recap but it’s going to read like a love letter to this cast and in particular, Joe. You see, Albus has always been my favourite. I’m so emotionally attached and invested in this character that I panic every time a new actor comes in to play him. This isn’t just a character I like, he’s a kindred spirit I need in my life. I’m in too deep. My biggest fear is that there will be an Albus I can’t connect with and although Joe is the fourth Albus I’ve seen now and this has yet to happen, that fear still lingers. So I’ve been taking my time and just watching and learning who his Albus is and you know what? Good things come to those who wait because now, especially after today, I’m at a place where I can say he’s become one of my favourites to watch on stage. He completely pulled my focus for the entire show today. Which is really saying something when next to him you have Jonathan doing that smile he does. You know, the one that looks like it can cure cancer and bring about world peace? Anyway, my point being, Scorpius has always been distracting for us as an audience. That character is suppose to pull on our heartstrings that way. Albus always has to work a little harder to get that reaction. (Although I do appreciate the irony of people not seeing who he is. Life imitating art and all.) Yet each Albus has been quite distinctive. Each one different from the last but still inherently the same character. To me, Sam’s Albus was defensive and impulsive, Theo’s Albus was open with his vulnerability but found hope and determination in his despair, and Joe’s Albus is resigned to his lot in life. He accepts every hit but continues on in spite of them. There’s quiet sort of maturity about him. His shield is his humour, not his actions or words. It’s such an interesting take on the character and it’s one I don’t think I could ever tire of watching.
Act One, Scene Three
After Albus and Rose had decided to check out the compartments, Albus started to walk in the opposite direction to her and began peering down the ‘corridor’ of the carriage. He ended up in front of Scorpius’s compartment but he didn’t look in straight away, he just sort of lingered outside. He was completely unaware that Scorpius was watching him the whole time with this look of recognition and awe on his face. He knew who Albus was and couldn’t look away. On stage there’s no walls or doors that show us the Hogwarts Express, yet I’ve never felt that sliding glass door separating them in this moment more clearly than I did today. It was such a heart stopping, delicate moment. There was a stillness about it. Being able to see their two worlds so separately before they become entangled. You had Albus looking at all these compartments but it’s the one right in front of him that’ll change his life. The very thing he’s scared of will make him stronger. While Scorpius is alone in that compartment, still safe in the bubble his family have kept him in for years. We could only watch and wait. Then Albus looks and makes the decision almost instantly and as Albus steps in that compartment, into his bubble, Scorpius’s world changes too. You could feel the excitement rolling off Scorpius once he started talking to Albus and Rose. This is the boy who knows his history and has dreamt of having friends like Harry Potter. Then suddenly he finds a Granger, a Weasley, and a Potter standing in front of him. I think Hogwarts became very real to him in that moment. All the stories he’s read and now he’s living it. This is quite literally the dream. Except of course they reject him. He sat down and turned his back to the door to avoid having to watch them leave him behind. But then Albus says he’s staying and Scorpius was not expecting that. You could see the internal panic as he visibly breathed in and out to calm himself. Partly out of shock, probably mostly out of nervousness. His thank you was precious. He truly meant that. Which is why I think Albus really goes out of his way to make sure Scorpius knows he’s teasing him about only staying for his sweets. That reaction (“I didn’t stay for you”) is so Albus. You know how I said before about Joe’s Albus using his humour? I think this is a great example of that. I’m sure Albus is just as nervous as Scorpius in this moment. So he’s instinctively fallen back on his dry humour. But then he looked at Scorpius and sang, ‘I stayed for your sweeeets’, making Scorpius relax almost instantly. For a lack of a better word, it’s really sweet. They’ve known each other for a matter of minutes at this point and already they’re giving each other what they need. Reassurance and a clean slate. Albus needs someone to look past his family name just as much as Scorpius does.
Act One, Scene Four
As soon as Albus walked up to the Sorting Hat and stood there all happy and smiley, like he knew he’d got this, I knew this was going to be a good scene. Why? Because it made me realise this Albus doesn’t know yet. He’s got a good relationship with his dad, he’s nervous about school but he’s ‘ready’, he’s already made a friend, and now the Hat is going to listen to him just like his dad said it would. Nothing to worry about! But then that one word brings his whole world crashing down around him. Slytherin. There must be so much running through his head in that moment. Everything has changed. The future he’d expected is now unknown. Yet the worst part? His dad lied. The Sorting Hat hadn’t listened to him. (Although I’d argue it did, but you know, to Albus in this moment it felt like it hadn’t. Little did he know that house is exactly where he belongs and needs to be.) The look on his face tells you that much. This was not the answer he was expecting or on some level, hoping for. Then Scorpius’s voice cuts through the noise and Albus turned towards him. He then looked up at the Slytherin banner hanging above him before walking towards Scorpius, accepting his fate. I think for Albus, this was the first of many cases of ‘works for Harry Potter but not Albus Potter’ at Hogwarts. It’s what slowly crushes him over time. That feeling of not being good enough. For the Hat, for the other kids, and for his family.
“And be my good friend” – Albus’s face broke my heart today. He looked so heavy hearted and somewhat shocked by Scorpius’s words here. His good friend? Isn’t he already a good friend? Why is Scorpius even asking that? Albus reached out for him as the scene ended after this line and he still looked at a loss over his friend. It also made me think about the argument later on in the library. Albus is always floored and then completely guilt ridden over Scorpius’s accusations and evidence of him being an awful friend. It’s an interesting contrast with Joe’s Albus and other interpretations. I’ve seen others take that phrase and agree without a second thought because it goes without saying. It never occurs to them that Scorpius would think anything different of him. That he’d have to ask for that. Is he failing at this too?
Act One, Scene Six
“Meet the once great Harry Potter, now a stone cold Minister man” – As Amos is speaking, Delphi and Harry always shake hands. It’s not a big moment, they’re both just being polite and humouring Amos. It’s what happens afterwards that’s interesting. So Harry looks down at his hand after she’s gone. He doesn’t know why, it’s an instinct thing. Sometimes he’ll shake it or flex his fingers. Just something so small, a detail easily missed and overlooked, but there and a sign if you know. It’s great. But anyway, that’s not what had me on the edge of my seat. I don’t know if Eve always does this and I’ve only just noticed, but after she shook his hand, she slowly and subconsciously reached back for her wand with this look in her eye as she stared at Harry while he was focused on Amos. Then just as her hand was there, she seemed to snap out of it. Years she’s been watching and planning and her instincts nearly made her throw it all away. It was super interesting! It gave me a fascinating insight in her Delphi, and Delphi in general. It definitely made me pay more attention to her smaller movements for the rest of the show. Like how visibly relieved she was when Amos backed down in St. Oswalds. It makes me wonder whether that’s part of her mask, or her mask slipping. I ended up watching the show with that in mind and made me realise just how young she is. The disorganised, frantic, and repetitive words scribbled across the walls of her room (there’s a panel that just has the word ‘father’ written over and over again in her disjointed, pointy, jagged handwriting) now felt childish. I felt her age and isolation in them. They became less ‘writings of a mad man obsessed’ and more ‘rages of a hurting, angry soul’. If that makes any sense. Don’t get me wrong, she’s dangerous, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I could see more clear than ever that part of her that desperately wants her father. It drives her like it does Albus and Scorpius. (Although all three take completely different roads in terms of handling it, obviously.) That’s why she can manipulate them so easily in that respect. She understands. I know this is all level one of understanding the characters/plot. I don’t think I’m explaining it very well. I think what I’m trying to say is that Eve made me think about Delphi more than I have before. I like the idea of her slipping. That one little action created ripples, and I’ve been intrigued by it ever since.
Act One, Scene Seven
Ginny and Albus sharing a smile at the very beginning of this scene still warms my heart. I really love the openness of their relationship. They may not say anything to each other in words here but they communicate quite easily. It’s practiced and heartfelt.
I think it’s great how relaxed and at home Joe’s Albus feels in his bedroom. He’s lying down and one of the most chilled out Albus’s I’ve seen in terms of being comfortable with his family repeating invading his space. Probably because he doesn’t see it as that I guess… I loved Dylan’s James bragging about the cloak. The emphasis on the ‘my’ as he pointed to himself really rubbing salt in the wound. Except Albus is lying on his back and mocking him once he’d left, imitating him by mouthing back his mouths and his pointing. He then started to sit up to help Lily look for her book but once his mum took over he carried on lying down. Joe’s Albus feels less like an outsider to his family. His issue is a communication one with his dad specifically. Which is interesting, and leads me into my next point, that Tom’s Harry and Joe’s Albus really worked well with this in mind.
(Did I mention that Tom Peters was on as Harry today? I haven’t seen him before but he was barely half way through his first scene and I already knew he was going to be brilliant. He’s someone I would definitely go out of my way to see again.)
Joe’s Albus and Tom’s Harry were so different to how Joe plays against Jamie’s Harry. Or any Albus and Harry in fact. It was in scenes like this that you could really see it. Now I’ll admit my favourite versions of this scene are always the angriest ones. The ones where they shout, get all up in each other’s faces, and even hit the other with blanket). To me, the aggression made those ugly words make sense. They’re not thinking, they’re feeling. Too much. They’re both explosive when pushed so of course when that’s aimed at each other it’s going to be a catastrophic. But then today happened. The whole scene felt different, less volatile. Albus seemed more open with this Harry. He was lying down on his bed but then sat up when Harry walked into his room. Then Albus shuffled further away as Harry got closer and Harry stopped, mid speech and in his tracks. Albus realises what that movement must have looked like so he patted the space next to him on his bed and encouraged his dad to sit down next to him. He was simply making space, not trying to put distance between them. Harry continued talking and then at some point Albus brought his legs up onto the bed and sat cross legged, with his back against his pillow, so he could face his dad. By this point I was on the edge of my seat because I don’t feel like I’ve ever seen this dynamic before. This Albus was still giving his dad a chance, and this Harry was really trying. So it felt uneven worse when it fell apart. It was less explosive but hurt just the same. Albus’s resigned face said it all. Those words didn’t cut him down the way they have other Albus’s because they’re words he already believes. He’s a disappointment. It makes sense. Just like fairy wings makes sense and invisibility cloaks make sense.
Act Two, Scene Six
So ‘Hide and Seek’ is playing in this scene and right at the beginning, even though it’s the instrumental version, you hear the words ‘hide and seek’ sung as the two boys walk forwards out of the shadows and towards the light, towards Hogwarts. My head connected the two and all I could see was Albus lagging behind, looking to the left of him into the depths of the forest, while Scorpius proceeded on forwards, looking up in awe at the castle until he was bathed in the same warm light. Hide and seek. A random observation I know, but I like their differences as much as I do their similarities and the music is in show is beautiful. I should definitely talk about it more.
Act Three, Scene Seven
What struck me here was Scorpius’s happiness. He was noticeably excited to be there with Hermione and Ron. I can’t help but imagine a younger Scorpius reading all about the trio and wanting his own adventure. Now he’s here, with Hermione and Ron, and they’re doing something completely wild. These aren’t just stories anymore, he’s in one. I bet he gets a tingle. If not over that, then maybe the fact that if he’s with Hermione and Ron and surely that makes him Harry in this scenario? I’m sure that hits him later on. He’s too much of a nerd not to. (Although I’m sure part of his happiness is relief. Those two are familiar faces and he has a way of fixing things now. But thinking about Scorpius’s geeking out is way more fun.)
Act Three, Scene Nine
So while Scorpius was doing his whole ‘It’s Haaaarry Potterrrr’ thing, Albus looked round at his mum and pulled this ‘I don’t know this lunatic, I played no part in these antics’ face. I love that Albus clearly loves Scorpius, weirdness and all, but I also love that he sometimes pretends he’s judging him for it. Or maybe he is. But it comes from a place of love. The way only true, long lasting friendships can. Your best friend is judging you, but they’re allowed to because you both know they’re just as bad.
Act Three, Scene Ten
“I agree it doesn’t sound good” - What I really loved about this scene was Albus and Scorpius’s interactions. I’ve seen previous Albus and Scorpius’s share looks as McGonagall speaks but these two went beyond that. Scorpius in particular was talking/mouthing something to Albus after he spoke. I really love all these additional interactions. It reads so much like a four year long friendship should. They have that connection that makes them sometimes forget there’s other people in the room.
Act Three, Scene Eleven
“Are you okay, Albus?” “No” “No. Nor me.” - These lines really hit home today. I felt them in a completely new way I’ve never thought about before. So Joe’s Albus is opening up to his dad here. He’s trying. His dad asking him if he’s okay means something to Albus because he responds honestly. No, he isn’t. What broke me today was how Harry’s own honesty back may have been taken. I felt like Albus started to believe they were connecting with this conversation. That his dad was finally listening to him and they were openly talking about the things that matter. But then Harry turns the conversation back onto himself (’Nor me’) and Albus breaks. Ginny is right, Albus does want him to be honest with him, but in this moment? I think he just needs his dad to listen. This look flashed across Joe’s face, of disappointed and hurt, and then he just walked off. He wanted his dad to hear that he’s not okay and do something about it, not just have him tell him he’s not okay either. It’s easy to forget that he’s simply just a child reaching out for his parent. I know people find it comforting to know they’re not alone in their pain, but I think here Albus feels like it trivialises his own. It didn’t surprise me to see Joe’s Albus looking more upset here than he did after their argument in his bedroom. That comment before was something he’d half suspected anyway, but to have Harry still overlooking him even now really hurts him. Meanwhile Harry was left sat on the suitcase at the end of Albus’s bed and staring off into space. Harry was so wrapped up in Harry (and the loss at what to do) that he fails to see Albus. Again. Quite literally too. He didn’t look at Albus for those last lines and I don’t think that helped Albus’s thought process.
Act Three, Scene Fourteen
“Do you think I’ve been tested too? I have, haven’t I?” - Another line which left a new impression on me. I think there’s a couple of ways to interpret its meaning but today I really felt Albus’s resounding disappointment. He isn’t asking if he’s been tested because he doesn’t want to feel left out or as a way of making sense of their adventure, it was said as if he’d already accepted he had failed. This was just another failure in a long list for Albus. You could hear it in his despondent tone.
Act Three, Scene Sixteen
I absolutely adore Albus and Scorpius’s interactions here. They shuffle in closer and face each other as they talk animatedly while the scene sets up around them. It’s like they’re in this bubble and are completely unaware as the world/stage moves around them. It portrays their relationship beautifully. You really feel the history and depth of their friendship in these moments.
“Let’s do something new, something fun” - I love, love, love, love that Albus’s idea of something ‘fun’ was to drop it off the owlery. He just sort of looked around and then stretched his arm out over the side with the Time-Turner in his hand. It’s so reckless and instinctive and you know what really intrigues me? It requires zero magic. I wonder whether that’s a conscious decision...
Back to Delphi again. I just want to add that I find her one of the most sinister Delphi’s I’ve seen. I think that’s why I’m so interested in where that comes from. This child, hidden from the wizarding world but the focus of rumours. The scary parallel with Scorpius probably isn’t lost on her. She hates Scorpius. Eve makes that blatantly obvious on stage. She’s spiteful at every given opportunity. Even right in front of Albus. It’s a fine line but it’s like she can’t help herself. I wonder if it’s because of his family and their deflection, or if it’s something more petty, like everyone believing him to be the son of Voldemort. This is what I meant before when I was trying (and probably failing) to explain what I meant by seeing her youth. It’s not about her literal age, but her approach to things. She’s focused yet reckless at times. It makes a terrifying, vicious combination. She’s definitely more like her mother than her father in that respect. With previous Delphi’s, I’ve seen her here still be quite playful and innocent with the boys. The act doesn’t drop until that very last second. But with Eve, I could see her slowing slipping. The point where she’s telling them about augureys, she was glaring down at Scorpius with this look on her face that told me she knew he was making the connections in his head, and she wasn’t scared or nervous, but enjoying it. She wants him to give her a reason to end this charade. She’s enjoyed playing with them, but she wants her goal. Now.
Act Three, Scene Nineteen
“Craig. Get away. Get help!” – Albus is bound on the floor and at the mercy of Delphi and yet his first words were to try and save Craig. I just wanted to highlight this before I make my next point. (I will fight anyone who tells me this boy doesn’t have the loveliest heart.)
“Avada Kedavra!” – Albus looked away as her words rang out. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Craig. He knows their meaning, he sees that flash of green. He knows, and he’s broken by it. The way she said the word ‘spare’ a few lines later really looked like they cut into him. He tried to save a spare, both Cedric and himself, but instead he’s created a whole new one. It wasn’t until the very end of this scene, when Delphi stands in front of his body with the Time-Turner in her hands that he finally looks. He was stood next to her and he looked over his shoulder at Craig’s body on the ground before looking back and finally placing his hands on the Time-Turner. It was such a heartbreaking moment. It was slow and felt fragile. Like he couldn’t leave, not without acknowledging what he’s done first. It added even more weight to his line (“what she did to Craig…”) a few scenes later.
Act Four, Scene Three
“The Bathilda Bagshot?” – Albus nerding out over Bathilda is everything. He went up and slightly stroked the door, and then ran away when it opened. His ‘acting casual’ as she walked past him afterwards was atrocious. The boy has no chill, and he calls Scorpius out for this! Bless.
Act Four, Scene Eight
The ‘Made Leanne Cry’ Award today goes to… James Howard! (He always looks far too happy every time I tell him.) So, background context. Although he didn’t do it today, Joe’s Albus has been running over to Scorpius during Act Four, Scene Three during his geek out over Bathilda. He focuses him and gets him to breathe in and out in time with him. It’s really sweet and a true testament to their relationship. Acknowledging your anxiety and panic attacks with someone and then letting that person not only see you but help you in your weakest moments speaks volumes as to how much Albus means to Scorpius. While I know that moment on stage is by no means a full blown panic attack, it’s just Scorpius freaking out so much he forgets breathe, I love that Albus recognises the signs instantly and stops his own geeking out to help him. We know they’re that close but to see it in such a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment says how these actions aren’t even a big deal to them. They will help and protect and save each other without question and move on with their day. I’m completely digressing now but that’s why I love Joe and Jonathan’s Albus and Scorpius so much. Their portrayal of the friendship is subtle but everywhere and so rich. Anyway, back to James Howard. So after they had all been reunited and hugged it out, Scorpius was trying to process how they’d got there and talk to them about Delphi and of course he started to stumble with his words and Draco, just like Albus, focuses him and makes a point to take a long, deep breath in and out as a way of telling him to do the same. It broke me. Jonathan is consciously playing Scorpius with these panic attacks in mind. It’s who his Scorpius is. I’ve always personally imagined Scorpius having these kind of issues so that in itself is nothing new, but I thought it was something he would probably keep hidden from his dad. So seeing that Draco was one hundred percent aware and knew exactly how to help him was unexpected but so completely welcomed. They may be having some communication issues but Scorpius needs his dad just as much as Draco needs him. I don’t know if it’s because it’s just the two of them but I feel their desperation and reliance on each other so much more than I do with Harry and Albus. Their relationship is so intense in those scenes once they’re back together it leaves you knowing without a doubt that they work through their issues.
One last point on this. I really love that Scorpius has the unwavering support of the two people in his life he needs the most. The fact that he doesn’t have to hide it from either of them and that they both play yet another role in his life, an important one too, really warms my heart. I’m glad Scorpius has this. That feeling when you can’t breathe and the moment when your vision falters and you can’t focus properly on the sounds around you, only the feeling of your chest as its about to burst, it feels life threatening and terrifyingly endless. Yet he gives them the power to pull him out of that. To be the light in the darkness. It speaks of so much trust and love. Again, it’s another ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ moment but it gave you such an incredible insight into Scorpius and his relationship with his dad. This cast are exceptional at providing these little moments. Look out for them!
Act Four, Scene Nine
This is going to seem like a really weird note to make but between scene nine and ten, they kind of lower the lights and the actors do this thing where they slowly move into place before snapping into the scene as the music and lights do. (It shows movement of time and I love it.) Anyway, sometimes the actors do things in character during this slow motion bit that make my heart burst. Like, Samuel’s Scorpius would do this little wave at Albus because they had just been separated while Albus slept and Scorpius was, presumably, hanging out with his dad. Anthony’s Scorpius would tuck his hair behind his ear. And, like father like son, Alex’s Draco once smoothed his hair down as he walked through the door. All these tiny actions brought me such joy. Is that weird? Anyway, Joe joined the club today by waking up during this part and doing this big yawn. I think I giggled. It’s so Albus-y. I love it. That boy’s relationship with sleep reads like a love story. He’s such a teenage boy.
Act Four, Scene Ten
“Draco, trust my dad. He won’t let us down.” – Two things about this scene. One, the look on Scorpius’s face as he looks between Albus and Draco is priceless. He’s on the edge of his seat (literally), not knowing what his dad will do after being spoken to like that. I think there’s also a little bit of awe in there? Albus speaking to his dad without fear means something when your dad is Draco Malfoy. Making friends isn’t easy when your family has that reputation. The fact it doesn’t phase Albus isn’t lost on Scorpius. (Although personally I do like to think they already sort of know each other. They’ve been best friends for four years, there’s no way they haven’t met each others parents yet. And I’ll fight anyone who doesn’t believe Albus met Astoria. You think a mother who knows she has years left not decades wouldn’t go out of her way to meet her son’s only friend?) Anyway, Draco doesn’t say anything back but his fingers were working overtime.
(To explain that last comment for those of you who haven’t read many of my recaps before, James’s Draco does this thing where he rubs this thumb and forefinger together, going round and round in frantic circles, whenever he’s stressed or anxious or angry for some reason or another. I think it’s a form of control for him? Like he’s channeled all that energy down into his fingers so it’s manageable. I’ve always been a big fan of this but now that we have Jonathan who’s emphasising Scorpius’s own anxiety, it’s added a whole new layer to it. Maybe that’s why he opened up to his dad or maybe how Draco spotted the signs. I really like the idea of these two helping each other out that way.)
And secondly, once Draco decides not to contest the plan anymore he pulls Scorpius (and sort of herds Albus) over towards the back of the church and behind him while he helps transfigure Harry. Today, once Draco had turned round and was facing away from the boys, Albus turned to Scorpius and pulled this face which can only be described as the grimace emoji. That kind of ‘eek! I can’t believe I just did that!’ face. It was great. He seemed so confident in the moment but obviously inside and afterwards he was not so chilled.
When Harry has transfigured into Voldemort, he turns round and faces everyone in the church. The reactions are what you’d expect. From Ron’s ‘bloody hell’ to the memories and fear cursing through Draco leaving him looking rather drained. But nestled behind the adults and peering through are Albus and Scorpius. I couldn’t see Scorpius that well but Albus’s face was loud and clear. His face hardened as he looked at ‘Voldemort’. It was unexpected but the more I think about it, it’s really not. For a boy with confidence issues he does have a tendency to tackle things head on. Visually though, it made such an interesting mix of reactions!
Act Four, Scene Eleven
“Alohomora!” - Joe’s Albus does this thing with his wand every time before he uses it. He holds out his arm and then wipes it on his sleeve quickly a couple of times. I love it because it’s a quirky Albus thing. But it also makes me a little bit sad when I think why he might be doing that. Because to me it reads like he’s doing it because he doesn’t believe in himself. He doesn’t trust his wand or his magic not to fail him. So maybe he’s cleaning it? Hoping by polishing it, it will somehow make it work better? Maybe he did it once and then he managed to successfully cast something and now he thinks he has to do it every time. Or maybe it’s just a ‘thing’ but you know me, I like to read into everything and make it angsty. It definitely feels like it’s something to do with his temperamental relationship with magic. Albus isn’t a Squib or bad at magic, it’s a self esteem issue that hinders his ability. The more pressure he puts on himself, the more it falters. The second he convinces himself he’s going to fail, he does. Back in the wand dance (Act One, Scene Four), Albus pulled this face as he held up his wand that clearly told us he knew this wouldn’t work but hey, he was going to have a go anyway. Of course then when he doesn’t work he’s proved himself right. Jump forward to this scene and what’s interesting here is that in this moment failure is not an option, and it’s in moments like this when there’s no time for doubt that Albus always succeeds. (For example, the cushioning charm as he jumps off the train.) Yet Albus still stopped here to swipe his wand across his sleeve before he cast. He’s exposed and there’s lethal spells flying all around and he still stops! I wonder if whether it’s a case of that seed of doubt being so ingrained in him that he still has to do it, or if it was done subconsciously out of habit, or even because he knows he can’t fail and does it to (in his mind) make sure he doesn’t fail.
On a personal note, as someone who’s struggled with OCD for the past fifteen or so years, that connection with cleaning and something working right isn’t lost on me. I��m not saying that’s what it’s about, or that act is a compulsion for Albus, but it could so easily be because that need to clean isn’t always about cleanliness. It’s sometimes just the act itself. It’s your brain telling you that you have to do this process otherwise something bad with happen. Sometimes you’re not even aware, you subconsciously do it with little thought. Other times it chips away at you until you break. Or worse, those times when you do it with no resistance because you’re convinced those voices in your head are right. This thing will work if only you do this process first. I’ve never really thought about what it would be like for a wizard with OCD before but there’s no way it wouldn’t affect their magic. Especially if it was in relation to their wand. Again, I’m not saying that’s what it is, but if it was then I could understand Albus not wanting to fight it in that moment.
You know what? It almost reminds me of Scorpius’s wand too and how Anthony felt the carvings on it were a kind of self harm born from Scorpius’s grief. Magic is so greatly affected by your emotions and both Albus and Scorpius have to deal that. They both do it in different ways but what’s interesting is that, in theory, they’ve both focused all that negative attention onto their wands. This physical extension of their magic. I might be completely wrong here but it definitely makes for an interesting line of thought...
Act Four, Scene Fifteen
“I’m going into pigeon racing. I’m quite excited about it.” - Another Joe thing that I loved! When he said this line he leaned into his dad and pointed upwards as if pointing out a pigeon in a nearby tree. Sadly, Harry didn’t look so he never reacted to it but Albus was having a great time teasing his dad. What a beautiful way to end the show. I love their mutual hug afterwards of course, that always feels like a conclusion. But seeing where their relationship was and where it’ll be again was something we need even more than that.
Trying to summarise this show in a few sentences is impossible. I’ve just written six thousand words on something I’ve been watching over and over again for two years now and I could still easily say more. That’s what I love about this play. You can’t see and know and understand it all. No one ever will. Every cast and every show gives you something new. I sat there today and I’m still in awe of the beauty of this story and its translation onto the stage. I tell people that this is my favourite instalment of the Harry Potter series and they’re baffled by that. I love the books and using my imagination because yes, even though it’s happening inside my head ‘why on earth should that mean that it is not real’? And as much as that is true, this play brings me out of my head in that sense. It makes it real in a way a movie can’t. I’m there at Hogwarts with Harry and better than that, I get to share the experience with others. Imagination is great but it’s so personal. No one’s Hogwarts in their head is going to be the same as anyone else’s. You’re always going to be alone in that sense. But there in the Palace Theatre I’m not. We’re all watching the same thing. It’s that Scorpius feeling of realising you’re not reading about this adventure, you’re part of it.
I think because I purposely distanced myself from fandom until Cursed Child, I never felt that inclusion of the wizarding world that way. Fandoms can be so destructive but here I’ve found a community of kind and passionate people (fans and actors alike) that has been so welcoming. It’s what Hogwarts should be. Every new cast feels like a new term, and each show feels like a lesson. You live, you laugh, you learn, and I come away feeling a little bit more connected to this world that I’ve loved since I was a child. My family often ask when I’m going to grow up and give up on Harry Potter and it confuses me every time. You don’t outgrow Harry Potter, you grow with it. I found myself in the teenage version of these characters and I still see myself in the adult versions now. They’re real to me, to a lot of us, and getting cast after cast who understand that is what makes this show what it is. Their skills as actors are of course phenomenal, but it’s the heart and energy they put into every show that makes it magical. That doesn’t come from acting lessons or theatre experience, it’s a feeling you just have if you’ve grown up with the books. It stays with you and inspires you.
#harry potter and the cursed child#cursed child#TCCleanne#this has been one of my favourite recaps to write!#it's some recap with a whole lot of rambling meta#6.5k words of it... enjoooy : )#text post#long post#@tumblr please sort out the 'read more' function on your mobile app!!!
53 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
mackcorleone
Untitled
doriima
heavydirtysoul
thepsutway-blog
The PSUT way!
siickwithsadness
✨️💛 rosie, ceo of sapphic ships 💛✨