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mickyschumacher · 1 month

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𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you were in love with f1's beloved honey badger and you had been for almost year. but why in the world had you instead fallen for his teammate? or in which infidelity has laid it's sticky little hands on you.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: slight angst, infidelity naturally, falling out of love, steamy makeout sesh, suggestive content, pining, sad boy hours for daniel, lando being kind of a sneaky bastard, age-gap between reader and boys (8 years for dan and 2 years for lan), reader born in australia, set in 2020/2021, false or incorrect marine biology lingo and protocols lol, mention of crossiant horner, poor explanation of f1, mentions of insecurity, proof-read...ish

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: daniel ricciardo x marine biologist!female reader, lando norris x marine biologist!female reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: i felt bad for not posting so here's me digging into my reserves! written when i did more song-based fics!! i wish life wasn't so busy 🤧 i have started a few thingsssssss but it's definitely going to be a while before i post them sorry 😣

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

You, honestly, were a normal girl. Mundane as mundane gets. Never once had you imagined of cameras, headlines and the need for a PR specialist in your life.

But it's what you had gotten. That's what Daniel Ricciardo came with.

You had met the Australian on pure accident. It was late 2020 and the season had just come an end. Hamilton was a six-times World Champion and Daniel had his last season with Renault. He hadn't got the result he wanted but he was optimistic about his future with McLaren. So eventually, he headed home to Australia for the Christmas holidays.

Now you would like to consider yourself a well-versed Australian. Especially considering you were born there. Robert Irwin was the most beloved Australian for years to come and Margot Robbie and Chris Hemsworth were your Aussie reps in America.

Somehow, however, you had never really got F1 or Formula One. That's not to say you hadn't heard of it. Honestly, for the past few years it was difficult to pass Albert Park in the summer of March without it flashing in front of your eyes. But if someone were to ask you anything about it, you would blink blankly and apologise.

Which is exactly what you did in early December. You were out having lunch with your closest friends at a local cafe, catching up on the year in the fresh yet skin-damaging Aussie sun.

You were in midst conversation when a brunette girl politely interrupted you. "Hi, sorry. This is going to sound really weird. I'm doing this on a bet. But do all three of you know that man over there? In the hat?”

You looked over to her table full of people. It seemed like she was with her family and friends. You and your friends zoned on the man in the hat, a guy who was trying to not make it obvious that he was aware of what was going on.

You scrutinised him carefully and unsurprisingly, you didn’t know him. Surprisingly, you did find that he was attractive. The curly hair, the scruff… you wondered whether he was actually Australian because no men in Australia looked like that.

Your two friends nodded while confirming with one another. “It’s Daniel, right? The driver?” One of them asked.

Your other friend hummed in agreement.

The brunette looked over at you. You blinked at her as your face slowly morphed into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

The brunette, which you expected to be somewhat sad about it, ended up smiling while your friends’ faces dropped.

“Thank you! Oh my god. You have no idea what you’ve just done!” The brunette laughed loudly, capturing the attention of her table. She pointed at the man in the hat, clutching her stomach. “She doesn’t know who you are, Danny. Take that!”

Similarly to your friends, the male’s face dropped. He looked at you and tilted his head.

When Daniel actually saw you for the first time, he was in shock. Not the type of shock of an Aussie not knowing who he was. But rather the shock of being in the presence as someone as beautiful as you.

Your eyes were tantalising and your apologetic expression was cute.

He waved a hand in dismissal. “It’s okay. I’m just an F1 driver.”

You nodded in slow understanding. Maybe you had in fact seen his posters in Albert Park. Honestly, you couldn’t be sure. Life as a marine biologist was busy and all over the place. Recognising celebrities or athletes was kind of the last thing on your mind.

━━━━━━━━━━━

That day you went home with the expectation of a normal tomorrow. One where you were out at the ocean and exploring the waters you had loved so much.

You wish you could say it came as a shock to see that same curly haired man on the wharf, but given the current temperatures that heavily contrasted your winter, it was reasonable as any other Aussie here.

What you didn’t expect was you passing him to get to your boat and then hearing a voice enter the air. “Hey! Excuse me. Sorry. You’re the girl from yesterday, right?”

You turned to the man, hand over your eyes to protect yourself from the harsh rays and take a closer look at him. Just in case it wasn’t him.

“Uh, yeah? You’re the driver, right?”

Daniel gave a wide smile, extending out his hand. “I’m Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Oh my. What a smile he had. The type to make you feel happy just by looking at it. You couldn’t even help but smile in response. You reached out to shake his hand, not ready to feel a weird sort of spark between the two of you.

“I... I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

Daniel slowly removed his hand from yours, grabbing any last second he could. He eyed the briefcase and scuba gear in your hands. “You diving?”

You looked at your equipment. “Well, testing. I’m a marine biologist. Although, I guess I’m still diving.”

Daniel pursed his lips. Now he had to get to know you. You were beautiful and a marine biologist. An Aussie dream.

“Oh yeah? What are you testing?” He queried with a raised brow,

“Oh! Uh, currently things like the local fish populations in decline. Their habitat. Whether they’re safe or not. Algae growth. Predators. pH levels. All the fun stuff...” You sheepishly trailed off once you realised you began rambling.

You didn’t know but in that moment Daniel was in awe of you. The twinkle in your eyes that rose once you talked about your work. Like your work was your passion. That’s how he felt about F1.

You watched Daniel nod as if he were actually interested. “Do you mind if I come with? I won’t contaminate anything. Promise.”

You mended your brows together. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask to join. But the way Daniel said it… like it was something he had to do or he would regret it for the rest of his life, you couldn’t help feel compelled. “Um, yeah. Do you not have to be on the road or something though? ‘Cause your a driver?”

“Oh F1 only goes between March and November. We’re on holiday at the moment. Well sort of.”

“Oh,” you mumbled out cluelessly. Your cheeks burned with a tinge of embarrassment. How had you managed to get through all these years of living and not known about this?

Daniel laughed lightly at the reddening of your cheeks. Just when he though he could find you any cuter. “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you F1. And you can teach me the ocean.”

So the two of you went into your boat. The sun beat down onto you so harshly that for most of it, you had retreated to driving the vessel in the shade as Daniel sat next to you.

It had gone so well that this, whatever it was, became a regular occurrence after you exchanged numbers that day.

You were learning a lot about him and his job. He was actually Italian-Australian. He started this passion with go-karting. You found out F1 wasn’t just racing but it was racing to another extreme. 300 kph. God, getting your car to 100 kph for the open road was thrill enough for you.

That made Daniel wheeze with laughter and promise he would take you for a drive in a sports car to get a taste of the speed he craved for.

Apparently F1 had 10 teams, each with 2 drivers. In each of the teams, the drivers had the same car to drive, cars that were constructed originally by each team. The point of the races were for two championships. The Driver’s World Championship, the title the driver wanted to win, and the Constructors’ Championship, the title everyone from the driver to the team strategist wanted to win. They were calculated by the amount of points received by the drivers in the races.

All the races were settled through a long weekend of sorts. Fridays were for practices to see how the car was on the track as they had different conditions per track. Saturdays were for qualifying. Here, Daniel would push the car to its limits to get the fastest lap time as the drivers were ranked to then get a position for the actual race tomorrow. Sundays were where they raced for points.

All of it was slightly complex, especially with the penalties and rules that they followed. Buy you seemed to get the gist of it.

Daniel had learnt that you had grown up in Australia and like him had to travel a lot for your work. Weirdly, some times his race dates would match up with your travelling. Daniel chose to take that as a sign. You were 8 years younger than him, taking him by a slight surprise. You were 23 and he was 31. But it didn’t seem like it mattered to you. Communication between the two of you was a smooth sail.

Daniel even opened up about his time with Red Bull. A whirl of bad and annoying memories. But when you had said that you would like to see Christian Horner step on to your boat and throw him overboard into a tank of piranhas, only for thirty seconds of course, Daniel had never laughed harder.

━━━━━━━━━━━

By the billionth time you had hung out, the sun was setting in the evening, providing a refreshing cold breeze to match the heat. Christmas was close soon. And Daniel was aching to ask you out.

He had to go into this next season of driving knowing he had you by his side. Even his own family was pushing him to ask. Especially his sister, Michelle, who had dubbed herself the cupid as she was the very brunette who had technically introduced you two, or so she claimed.

The both of you had finished a dive and were heading to Daniel's car. You were supposed to have dinner with his family on this fine evening.

"You good, Danny?" You looked over to the man. Daniel, for the loud and outgoing person he was, was being rather quiet today. You couldn't really put your finger on why either. You took pride in being able to read people. But it looked like his mind was at some sort of battle.

He gave an idle hum, getting into the driver's seat.

You raised a brow, closing the door on the passenger side shut. Your hand reached out to his thigh, making him break his trance and flicker his eyes towards you.

"Listen, I don't know what it is or what's going on. But I'm all ears if you want," You smiled, patting his thigh. You went to remove your hand but Daniel placed his hand over yours, keeping you there.

Daniel's heart was in his throat. He was not normally a nervous man. He was the epitome of confidence. But you seemed to tear that down, in the nicest way, quite easily.

Daniel absorbed your curious eyes before releasing a shaky breath. "Uh," he awkwardly chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "I'm not normally like this. I can't really explain it... but these past few weeks, I... I haven't felt like this in a really long time. With you I feel free... happy... I guess what I'm trying to say is that I really like you. And even if I'm ancient, I would really like to be with you. You know. Together. If that wasn't clear."

The smile on your face the moment you realised what was going on hadn't stopped growing. You watches his eyes dart around, looking for a signal of anything. A yes. A no.

You looked down at your hands. The warmth of his spread among your one. You turned your hand to intertwine them with his and squeezed his hand, looking back up at him. "I think you took the words right out my mouth. I like you too, Danny. A lot. Even as an 'old ass man.'"

An odd silence settled within the car as Daniel simply stared at you, honey brown eyes hold your own.

"Danny? Are you okay?"

Daniel's eyes turned into crescents while his infamous wide smile sprawled onto your face. "Can I kiss you?"

You stilled in the passenger seat. Your eyes flickered to his lips before meeting his eyes once again. You weren't sure if you could trust your voice at the moment so you gave a curt nod.

Daniel smiled softly at the flustered expression you sported. Instead of leaning his head in like you expected to, he reached over to your seat and lifted you out of it. You released a small yelp before landing onto his lap, straddling his crotch as you faced towards him.

Daniel's fingers played with the slightly dampened tresses that had fallen around your face and pushed them behind your ears. His fingers trailed down to your heated cheeks and to your jaw. Bringing you closer to him, he leaned his head towards you.

Daniel's lips fell into yours. His hands soon fell to your back as your arms snaked his neck. The world... your surroundings were all gone. All you could feel was each other. His fingers sneaking past the hem of your shirt and grazing your bare skin. The action sent a wave of heat within you.

You let out a small muffled moan causing Daniel to adjust himself in his seat. A bulge had formed in his pants, aching at your touch. You released yourself from him for a gasp of air, which fell into further pleasurable gasps as Daniel's swollen lips had found your neck, leaving a trail of small sloppy kisses.

Daniel rested his chin onto your shoulder before pulling back to look at you. He grinned at your dazed expression. "As much as I would like to continue this in such a fitting setting like a car, I would rather our first time in an actual bed."

You let out a small laugh, feeling yourself fluster even further while you gave him a tight hug.

And that's how your relationship had started. Since then, it had been almost a year. In that year, you had gotten impossibly closer. You had visited his races without telling him because you were scared. You were scared of distracting him and scared for him. The first F1 race you went to matched up to your meetings with other marine biologists and techs in Spain. God, you didn't know cars could even go that fast. The occasional toss of a car to the side sent fear coursing through you.

Eventually, Daniel had found out and reassured you that you being there wouldn't harm anything. In fact, the thought of it calmed him down and encouraged him. He had even introduced you to some of the team and whispered in your ear when he pointed to Red Bull's team principal.

"Oh... so that's the man going overboard. That's a shame. You didn't tell me he look like a sea otter. Sea otters are supposed look cute. I'll just pretend he's plant plankton."

Daniel had never laughed harder at something. Just when he thought he couldn't love you more. God, you were a sight to behold. He would never understand how you managed to be who you were.

You had felt the same.

Well, at least that was until when you met his new teammate in McLaren, Lando Norris.

Lando was two years younger than you and what some people called the British Ricciardo. He was constantly smiling and cracking jokes. He was the moodmaker.

The vibe he had was like an annoying little brother of a sort.

But people obviously didn't feel attracted to someone if they truly thought of them like that.

You shouldn't feel this way. It was wrong. You had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who adored you. You had tried to keep yourself occupied with your job to avoid having to attend too many races and meet the McLaren team, in fear of meeting Lando.

But of course, how were you going to refuse to celebrate Lando's 2nd podium of the year in Monaco when Daniel asked?

So here you were. In a club dressed in a cream coloured set: a long sleeved bralette and a long skirt starting from your waist, ending just before your heels with a slit in the middle.

The compliment you had received in your ear from Daniel made you wish you could say you were dressed for him in the first place. But it would be a lie to say that.

You had navigated yourself around the club to drown yourself in some alcohol. You needed a distraction and you felt that being some what drunk and out of it would've helped.

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk. you should think about the consequence of your magnetic field being a little too strong. and i got a boyfriend, he's older than us he's in the club doing, i don't know what you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much.

You were out of it for sure. Because sober you did not have the guts you had right now. The guts to not only sit at the same table as Lando but next to him and make fun of his British accent with Carlos.

"No, Carlos. I'm pretty sure he sounded like 'No no no... you ruined my ice cream,'" You laughed lightly as the Spaniard refused to agree with you.

"No he has bit of a weird sound at the 'ruined' part. He sound like those kids in the UK... on the road? What are they again..."

Lando's face burst with amusement. He laughed so hard, he had to prevent his cup from falling out of his hand. "Do you mean..." He gasped for air, "Roadmen?"

Jesus. Carlos Sainz discussing roadmen was the funniest thing that had happened so far.

You weren't sure where Daniel was even. All you knew he was probably talking to some other team member of McLaren. You were rather preoccupied and entranced by the British male next to you.

You couldn't explain it but it was as if there was a magnetic field around him and you, like an element, were simply attracted to him. As if there was no other path to go. He made you laugh differently. Feel differently. He was also a looker. That boyish charm that simply pulled you in. It made you wonder how strong his magnetic field was.

The science of it was simple. You may be a marine biologist but you hadn't flunked physics. The stronger the intensity of a field, the further the magnet, Lando, will be able to attract elements, like you. All you knew was that he was strong enough to inexplicably take you attention away from your own boyfriend.

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face 'cause look at your face. and i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way but what can i say? you're gorgeous.

This attraction you felt to Lando what ridiculous in itself. But you had felt it from when you first met him and you felt it now. Lando was simply gorgeous. His smile was breathtaking. His laugh felt pretty.

And it infuriated you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop. These feelings, this flutter, this tingle... make it all stop, you wanted to say.

But you could never say that to his face. How could you? Those same things came back every time you looked at him.

The smile. The flutter. The tingle.

You wondered whether he had even looked at himself in the mirror. You wondered whether ever had felt insecure about the way he looked and that if he did, you wished he hadn't.

Everything thing about him was simply enticing. A delightful view... from the arms of Daniel.

you should take it as a compliment that i'm talking to everyone here but you. and you should think about the consequence of you touching my hand in a darkened room. if you've got a girlfriend, i'm jealous of her. but if you're single that's honestly worse. 'cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts.

This feeling... this infatuation was overwhelming for you. You were a taken girl. You had even made it was to the multiple Instagram F1 'WAGs' accounts and were met with the most glorious welcomes by fans.

You needed to get a grip on yourself for Christ's sake. Lando was also taken. Even if he was single, which if you were being honest was an insult to romance itself, you didn't have a chance let alone now. No matter how jealous you were, you had to be realistic. You paled in comparison to the fame Portuguese models that F1 drivers often found themselves with.

Of course, you had to admit they were beautiful. You had no conflict with them. They weren't your classic mean girls. They were impossibly nice and you even found yourself in some interesting conversations. But at the end of the day, you were simply a marine biologist.

So in the darkness of the club, you had managed to isolate yourself from Lando, who had gone with Pierre somewhere, and made the struggling and gruelling effort to talk to anyone else but him. You had conversed with Carlos before he had gone somewhere with his girlfriend. You had settle for Charles as a distraction.

Charles was a pleasure to talk to. As always, he was also so kind and sweet with his words. The type you were sure that when you looked at the, you knew that their mother raised them right.

Daniel had finally found his way to you, mentioning that Zak Brown had just pulled him aside for a talking to. You asked if he was okay, in which he responded with a smile and said: "Now that I'm with you, yes."

You managed to give him a soft and believable smile. Daniel was standing behind you, joining in your conversation with Charles. It wasn't until you were in the midst of a conversation about life in Monaco that you felt a hand on yours.

You smiled gently, expecting it to be Daniel's but instead it was Lando's.

ocean blue eyes looking in mine. i feel like i might sink and drown and die.

Your eyes snapped up to meet Lando's face. His blue eyes bore into yours.

Those goddamn eyes of his would be the end of you. The similarity of them to the oceans you had travelled and the beautiful creatures you had seen was uncanny.

Your heart paced furiously against your chest. He must've been drunk or tipsy to the very least to stumble onto you. There was no way he had purposely wanted you to drown in his eyes.

You sucked in a quiet sharp breath and edged to removed your hand. But as quickly as you had made that decision, the gnawing feeling at your heart had grown more intense and taunted you. Lando's hand hurried to grab yours and place it back where it was.

Your eyes shook with awe and lingered with a dangerous thrill. You could feel his fingers rub the back of your hand gently before intertwining them.

You looked blankly at the table in front of you while Lando had joined in the conversation so casually, like nothing was even going on. You had to thank your stars that the club was able to be as dark as it was.

A lot of the noise around you had turned into white noise and blurs of sound. Charles must've complimented you as you had managed to capture some mention of fish and coral reefs from your boyfriend.

you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and you are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad. you make me so happy it turns back to sad. there's nothing i hate more than what i can't have and guess i'll just stumble on home to my cats alone unless, you wanna come along?

It was Daniel kissing your cheek fondly and Lando's hand grazing your knee under the table that had brought you back to reality.

The happiness and adrenaline you felt was wrong. You knew with every crevice and fibre of your body that this had to stop. This attraction and sickly sweet infatuation with Lando. God, he just made you so fuzzy. You could barely think straight.

You were stuck in between two men who had their touch on you. It wasn't right. As much as you liked Lando, he angered your entire being. He had simply waltzed into your life. He was playing along with your feelings.

Lando's damning eyes averted to you when he felt your hand slip away from him forcefully.

You hoped the guilt in your eyes shone as much as they could in this darkness.

You were going to have to break up with a man who would give you everything. You would have to leave all of... this... and get away from here.

You needed everything to return to normal. You had no idea how exactly you were going to explain a sudden return home without inflicting any suspicion.

All you knew now was that you had to make a lengthy apology to a man you had not realised you had fallen out of love with.

You supposed that was love.

Love was a bittersweet feeling. It was beautiful and fluttering but brought a lot of tragedy and strife along with it.

That was love: simply gorgeous.

#mickyschumacher #formula 1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo

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ge · 1 year

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okeyyy...i know this acc is preddy much good and dead, rest in peace all my dearly beloved tgcfmdzs mutuals and followers who moved on to smth else in the yrs since mdzs ended, ....but i still have a big enough active audience methinks soooo i wanted 2 promote a korean novel thats REEALLY unappreciated in the eng community ITS SO GOOD its my favourite novel atm and i really want it to catch on w western audiences bcuz i swear it has the potential to be as big as mxtxs novels were if given the opportunity to blow up...

RETURN OF THE MOUNT HUA SECT (aka, officially, RETURN OF THE BLOSSOMING BLADE) is an action, fantasy, comedy korean novel by BIGA on Naver, with a webcomic by STUDIO LICO on Webtoon

THE WEBCOMIC IS CURRENTLY ON BREAK AFTER THE COMPLETION OF ITS FIRST “SEASON” (will be returning sometime mid 2023) AND THE NOVEL IS STILL ON GOING WITH 1494 CHAPTERS (as of 4/15/2023)....if uve read tgcf in its entirety pls dont let that chp count scare you..rotmhs is a very bingeable novel... while rotmhs doesnt have an official english translation, the ongoing fan tl has 379 chapters translated (as of 4/15/2023) [LINKS PROVIDED BELOW]

MY SYNOPSIS: the story follows the main protagonist chung myung, a member of the mount hua sect who was formerly known as the legendary ‘plum blossom sword saint’, reincarnates into the body of a beggar child a hundred years into the future after dying following the beheading of the demonic cult leader, chun ma, who slaughtered his clan members as well as countless other sects during the war. when he wakes, he discovers that his once proud and respected sect has fallen into ruin during the century following its defeat. chung myung, hiding his identity as a fabled hero from the past, rejoins the mount hua sect under the guise of being nothing but a beggar to help restore the mount hua sect to its former greatness while making friends as well as enemies along the way..

the official (webtoon) synopsis:

When Cheongmyeong of the Mount Hua Sect awakens a hundred years in the future, his last memories are of a bloody battle against the Leader of the Demonic Cult, the evil Cheonma. The battle almost saw the end of the Ten Great Sects of ancient China, when Cheongmyeong ended the hard-fought struggle by striking down Cheonma. Soon after, he succumbed to his wounds, filled with regret at their pyrrhic victory. All is not lost, however, as he awakens to his second chance at life. Shocked to find his beloved Mount Hua Sect reduced to a mere shadow of itself in the present day, Cheongmyeong embarks on a journey to restore Mount Hua to its former glory.

while the official synopsis does make it seem like the story is going to be heavy and action focused, the novel itself is more comedic than its led on to be and its action scenes are rlly fun and exhilarating to read..

the main cast are extremely likeable and their relationship w each other is very funny and heartwarming... that being said i feel like if uve come from any of the popular danmei novels and r interested in reading rotmhs (PLEASE BE INTERESTED) i feel like i shuld mention that THERE IS NO ROMANCE IN THIS NOVEL... its not a BL, theres no romantic connotations between any of the main characters, this novel is more focused on found family and the bonds between friends than anything BUT PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT LET THE LACK OF ROMANCE DISSUADE YOU..

AIIISSHH THIS IS GETTING LONG ENOUGH soo basically here are links 2 where u can read ROTMHS please consider reading it PLEASE bc im sick as hell of not having enough fics or fanart of it or ppl to talk to abt it with..feel like im rting art on my priv to brick walls....!!!!!!!!!!

(official) NAVER (1494+ chapters, korean) https://series.naver.com/novel/detail.series?productNo=4130558&isWebtoonAgreePopUp=true

(official) WEBTOON (73 chapters, english) https://www.webtoons.com/en/action/return-of-the-blossoming-blade/list?title_no=2849&page=9

FANTRANSLATION (379+, english) https://skydemonorder.com/projects/return-of-the-mount-hua-sect

one last also before let yall have at it, if u’ve read the webcomic and dont feel like rereading the entire novel up to the webcomic stopping point, jump to chapter 117 on the fantranslation.. chp117 is right where the webcomic leaves off👍

OKAYYY HAVE FUNNNN PLEASE READ RETURN OF THE MOUNT HUA SECT PLEEEASEE SHARE THIS POST W EVERYBODY OR ILL KILL MYSELF IDK YAYYYYY YIPPEEEEE ROTMHS SUPREMACY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if u do end up reading and liking it please god..talk to me about it..... im literally shaking scratching my neck rocking in a corner crying sobbing sniffling snotting

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bifuriouswaterbender · 2 years

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Stranger Things Masterlist

Updated September 24, 2023

Only includes fics published on AO3. I have a few other Tumblr only drabbles you can find under the “my writing” tag.

Current Categories: Steddie, Greatwise, Assorted (Gen/Mixed/Other)

Steddie:

Stevie Doesn’t Know - 34,648 words - 7/7 Chapters completed - Rating E

Modern AU -- Eddie makes music on TikTok & Steve is a massive fan who gets caught in the excitement.

He’s All That - 34,700 words - 8/? chapters - Rated E

Steve and Tommy made a bet. Eddie is that bet.

I’d Meet You Where The Spirit Meets The Bones - 15,062 words - Rated E

A/B/O AU - Steve goes into heat right after the events of Season 4. He just wants Eddie, who is too injured to do anything about it.

Swipe Right - 13,759 words - Rated E

Modern AU - They match on Bumble and fuck about it.

Take Pleasure in the Details - 9,736 words - Rated E

Stripper Eddie / Teacher Steve + Co-parenting Eddie & Chrissy

Time is Luck - 7,985 words - Rated E

Modern A/B/O AU - Eddie catches Steve making stupid choices over text on the subway.

No Reaction Without Action - 7,569 words - Rated E

Steve wasn’t supposed to know what Eddie does with the men who meet him on the street, but Eddie loves that he can hear.

for pasts that we're never gonna change - 6,968 - Rated E

Pop Star Steve AU - Eddie’s secretly a huge fan

I don't care if it's dirty, the view's so pretty - 5,414 words - Rated E

Steve and Eddie find each other at an open mic night where Eddie’s playing

I Can See You (Up Against The Wall With Me) - 4,459 words - Rated E

Steve and Eddie have been circling each other since the beginning.

In All My Wildest Dreams (They Just End With You And Me) - 2,460 words - Rated E

Mirror sex (that’s it, that’s the fic)

Have Your Cake And Eat It Too - 311 words - Rated M

Steve has a unique birthday cake for Eddie.

Is There a Word for Bad Miracle? - 6,038 - Rated T

Words Soulmate AU - Eddie said his words to Steve in school, but Steve didn’t say his back until the boathouse

Hold Me Like A Grudge - 4,402 Words- Rated T

Countdown Soulmate AU

Dancing With Him (Thinking of You) - 3,547 words - Rated T

Eddie gets jealous watching Steve dance with other guys

A Collapsing Star With Tunnel Vision - 3,503 words - Rated T

Eddie gets glasses

So Roll the Highlights - 2,405 words - Rated T

Superhero ttrpg

I'm stuck in a lonely loop, my baby - 2,448 words - Rated T

Red strings of fate

I Got A Secret, I Must Admit - 2,320 words - Rated T

Steve & Robin are twins. Eddie’s the gossip swept up in their orbit.

All this effort to make it look effortless - 1,373 words - Rated T

The Grindr hookup that's not actually (intended as) a hookup

I will never ask you for anything (except to dream sweet of me) - 1,195 words - Rated T

Blanket fort!

Your Dreams and Your Hopeless Hair - 3,016 words - Rated T

YDAYHH Part 1

Steve takes care of Eddie’s hair and considered the future

I Want You to Love me for Who I Am - 2,775 words - Rated T

YDAYHH Part 2

Steve has a confrontation with his parents about his future plans

Get The Feeling - 1,496 words - Rated T

Eddie ogling Steve at Scoops Ahoy

Are You From Tennessee? - 828 words - Rated T

Pick-up lines

Pool - 442 & 273 words - Rated T

Two drabbles inspired by the word “pool”

Timeless - 322 words - Rated G

Timeless by Taylor Swift

Greatwise:

You’re on The Other Side of The Storm - 12,669 words - Rated T

Gentle Hands and Observant Eyes Part 1

Will starts sophomore year developing confidence, leaning on new friends for support, and wondering for the first time if what he's always wanted is still what he wants.

Coming In So Strong - 5,111 words - Rated T

Gentle Hands and Observant Eyes Part 2

People find out Will has a boyfriend now.

It Sends You Spinning - 4,325 words - Rated T

Gareth's wanted to try drag for a long time.

When Will Falls in Love - 3,149 words - Rated T

Will’s got a crush (and everyone’s support).

Assorted:

Craving Something Deeper - Chrissy focus, Chrissy & Eddie, Crissy/Jason (temporarily), Robin/Chrissy, Steve/Eddie, Andy/Gareth - 24,158 words - 7/? Chapters - Rated T

Chrissy Lives AU - Chrissy went to Eddie for drugs and a change, not to get any visions out of her head.

Wrapped Up In You - Steve/Eddie, Will/Gareth, Nancy/Robin, Nancy & Eddie - 7,483 words - Most Rated T with 1 E Drabble

A series of unrelated drabbles inspired by songs from my 2022 Spotify Wrapped.

Til We See All The Stars - Stevie & Robin, Steve/Eddie - 6,718 words - 4/4 Chapters - Rated T

Trans Woman Stevie Harrington - Stevie hadn’t been growing her hair out intentionally.

#steddie #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steddie fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic compilation #my writing #my fanfic

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thesakuragarnet · 5 months

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11/21/23 Sakura_Garnet

Today marks the final publications of a fanfic that has taken me 2 whole years to write. The final chapter and epilogue of PHOENIX: A Pro Hero Toya Todoroki AU will be uploaded to wattpad and AO3 at about 6:30 PM EST. This story has gotten me through some of the roughest seasons of my life and has been a part of my growth and journey, not just in writing, but as a person, too. I have found solace through my writing, and I recommend anyone and everyone to use it as an outlet for emotions, whether they are positive, negative, or somewhere in between. I want to take this moment to invite anyone and everyone who is interested and who has read any part of PHOENIX to ask me literally anything! I know there's a specific button on tumblr to do that, but I just wanted to open up the space to let y'all know that you can use it! (And even if it isn't PHOENIX related, you can ask me that as well! I don't bite unless given a reason <3 )

I want to thank everyone who has come along with me for this journey and anyone who will read it in the future. Words cannot express the emotions I am feeling about all this. This has been my biggest writing piece I've ever poured my heart into, and I doubt there will be a fic of mine that is as long or as invested as this one was. Rest assured, I will still be writing, but it is, as always, on my own terms. My life doesn't allow much space for free writing, and I only put it out when it feels right. Once again, thank you to everyone. The prequel will be on AO3 only, but even I'm not sure what's going to come of that. I plan on focusing on "His Ocean Eyes" next.

Consider this as Pro Hero Third-Degree, signing off X X X

The Past Never Dies

#ao3 writer #my hero academia fanfiction #fanfic #pro hero dabi fanfic #hero dabi fanfic

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hiddlesbummmm · 2 years

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Well hey guys! Here’s my most recent fic! This is a curveball for sure, but I recently started obsessing over The Umbrella Academy and decided to write a fic! This idea came to my head randomly, so I figured I should write about it.

I’m undecided if I will take requests for TUA in the near future, but if y’all like this one, I will consider it for sure 💕😊 Please enjoy!

✨Please note I am only in season 2, so please don’t try to spoil anything past that ✨

⚠️Minor spoilers for season 1/early season 2 ahead!⚠️

Warnings: Minor spoilers for season 1/2, mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, brief violence, lots of tickles. Ignore the timeline of the show because I know I’m wayyyy off 😂

Words: 3284 Lee Diego X Ler Klaus (Ben and Five make appearances)

Sobriety Brothers

Ever since he was ripped away from Dave, Klaus struggled with alcohol and drug abuse.

Okay. That was kinda a lie.

Klaus had almost always struggled with his addictions, but it definitely got worse since his lover was killed. But who could blame him?

Klaus’s head was always filled with the moans and groans of the dead, and the numbing of drugs and alcohol seemed to be one of the few things that gave him some peace and quiet.

Klaus knew Ben disagreed with him, and so did most of his family. Ben told Klaus he needed to learn how to block the voices on his own without poisoning his body. Although Ben was probably his closest friend, Klaus secretly enjoyed being able to block him out while passed out drunk in the bathtub.

It wasn’t until Klaus had been robbed for the 3rd time that week that he decided he needed help.

Klaus had woken up in nothing but his underwear with a black eye and nearly broken nose in the back of some sketchy alleyway. Klaus had no clue how he ended up here, but thankfully Ben was able to fill in the gaps.

Klaus typically was not embarrassed to be without clothing (hence the crop tops and holey pants) but for some reason, he was absolutely terrified of facing his family this time.

Sneaking in through the back door, Klaus made his way through the house to find Grace. She confirmed that nothing was broken and gave him an ice pack for his injuries.

A few days later, once Klaus was able to conceal most of the bruising with concealer, he decided to confide in one of his siblings for help. And frankly, the only one he trusted with these types of situations.

As much as he loved and cared for his other siblings, none of them could help as much as Diego could.

Vanya was always timid and strayed away from the bunch. Klaus now realized this was mostly Dad’s fault, but as a child, he had no clue. Vanya was very thoughtful and cared for him recently, but Klaus never wanted to dump his problems into her lap. She was far too kind to need that much emotional baggage.

Luther was number one and very much acted as such. He was a goody two shoes, always wanting to prove he was a leader. Klaus never felt like he could bring problems to him either because instead of getting a hug, he would probably get a lecture.

Allison was by far a close second. She was also kind and thoughtful, but also very distracted with her current life. Especially now with the apocalypse threatening the world and her daughter.

One time, later in their adult life, Klaus had asked Allison to Rumor away his addictions (and get him more money, but that was beside the point). Allison refused and told Klaus he needed to deal with it on his own. Rumoring only made things worse. She also threatened to kick his ass if he asked her again.

And then there was Five. That little bastard. Even as kids, Five was a grumpy, sarcastic, know it all. Five was hard for Klaus to talk to sometimes because most of the things he said made no sense. (looking back, that was probably intentional). Five also probably had an alcohol problem, but Five would never admit it.

Diego seemed to be the best help. In the past, Klaus has asked Diego to tie him up and let him fight the withdrawal symptoms that way. Klaus shivered at the thought of doing that again.

The way Diego reacted to his strange requests was the reason why Klaus trusted in him. There was no shame, no mocking or sassy remarks. Diego just simply grabbed his rope and told Klaus to lead the way.

Before Klaus left his room to search for his brother, he was halted by a grunting sound.

“Something you would like to say Benny Boy?” Klaus drawled out with a smirk.

Ben rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“Are you really that dense Klaus? I told you those drugs do nothing but poison your mind”.

Klaus put a hand over his heart and fluttered his eyes.

“Brother, you wound me deeply. I am not dense. What gives with the ‘tude?”

“Seriously. You haven’t noticed?”

“Noticed what!?”

“Diego is in just as much need of help as you are. Instead of going to him for help, I think you should help each other.”

Klaus crossed his arms while he pondered this information.

Ben muttered some insult under his breath and walked over to Klaus.

“Oh shit. I am an asshole, Ben”

Ben nodded and gestured for him to continue.

“He has been a lot more testy and impatient ever since he lost Eudora. Cha-cha and Hazel haven’t helped much either.”

Ben let out a sign.

“You’ve been too drunk or high to notice the full picture, but yeah that’s it. You aren’t the only one with an alcohol problem.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow.

“Diego has been drinking himself silly these past few days. While you have been mourning the loss of Dave, he’s been mourning the loss of Eudora. I know how much you trust Diego, and I’m pretty sure he trusts you too. Being tied up helps you detox, but that won’t work for him”.

Klaus nodded in agreement. Losing Dave was absolutely horrible. And he knew exactly how Diego felt. Especially when her killers were out and about also hunting for Five.

“Okay, Benny. Have any ideas on how to help us both?”

Ben smirked.

“A competition”

Anyone who knew Diego knew just how competitive that man was. He was bad as a child and only got worse as an adult.

As kids, he always made sure he was the first one awake, the first one to meals, and definitely the first to train. If he successfully pinned you, you never heard the end of it.

Klaus on the other hand was way too free-spirited to be overly competitive. He was mostly a peacekeeper and didn’t try to get involved in heated arguments. But Klaus was also knowingly and purposely annoying. He enjoyed pestering his siblings and making them feel crazy. Whenever Diego was standing on his soap box, Klaus made sure to knock him off of it, even if it caused Diego to fall on top of him.

Taking a swig of the closest alcohol to him, (he wasn’t ready to start sobriety just yet)

Klaus went in search of Diego.

****

Diego was miserable. He had a throbbing headache, a sliced finger, and a broken heart. Although he and Patch didn’t end on great terms, he still felt responsible for not protecting her well enough. He had loved her, and now she was gone without him being able to make things right between them.

Diego knew he probably needed to watch his alcohol intake, but he just didn’t care at the moment. The alcohol helped fuel his anger as he plotted his revenge on cha-cha and Hazel.

Just as Diego was about to get up and use the bathroom, he heard shuffling outside his door.

Diego grabbed a knife, poised and ready to fling it at any time.

“Diego, I know you have a knife. It’s just me, your buddy Klaus!”

Diego instantly relaxed and opened the door.

Klaus was in his usual attire; a crop top ripped jeans, and barefoot. Diego noticed the bruising around his eye and nose but decided to not question him about it yet.

“Oh, brother! I missed you! Care to chat?”

Diego rolled his eyes.

“Klaus, I saw you just the other day when you snuck in through the back door. One night stand go wrong?” He teased.

Uncharacteristically though, Klaus didn’t chuckle. Stoic as can be he answered.

“Oh um, no. Robbed actually. For the third time. Assholes took my favorite shirt. Not that it matters because I stole it from a st-“

Diego cut Klaus off.

“You were robbed three times this week and this is the first you bring it up? What the hell Klaus! I can help protect you ya know.”

Klaus shrugged.

“I figured with the apocalypse it doesn’t really matter because we’re probably all gonna die anyway.” Klaus moved to sit on Diego’s bed, crossing one leg over the other.

Diego still processing all that had been said sat at his desk.

“So anyway. Enough about me. I want to talk about you bro.”

Diego looked up and made eye contact with Klaus.

“Me? What about me?”

“Oh don’t be so dense!” Klaus looked over across the room.

“Did I use that term correctly Ben?”

Diego glared at Klaus.

“Klaus, watch it, or else I won’t hesitate to give you another black eye. I can’t hit Ben remember.”

Klaus gulped and then flipped off the space in front of the closet. Diego really wished he could hear Ben sometimes.

“Anyway, as I was saying brother. You and I are more similar than you think. I drink alcohol because I miss Dave and you drink alcohol because you miss Eudora”.

Diego flinched at the mention of her name but didn’t say anything as Klaus continued.

“What I’m trying to say, is I think we need to help sober each other up. What do ya think? Bros before hoes right?”

Diego put down the knife he was fidgeting with. Klaus had a good point. He knew Klaus struggled with addiction issues, but never once considered the fact that his coping methods weren’t exactly kosher either.

More importantly, he knew deep down he wouldn’t be able to fight cha cha and hazel drunk.

“Okay, Klaus. Yes, I may be drinking too much. And no, I will not allow you to tie me up to potentially fulfill any of your kinky fantasies.”

“Silly Diego! You are not in any of my fantasies. Ben suggested we have a competition of sorts. The first one to cave and drink has to do whatever the winner wants as punishment. Buy dinner, tidy up the house, prank Five, yadda yadda yadda.”

Diego contemplated this for a sec. Klaus was way more unhinged than he was. How hard could it be? Besides, knowing Klaus he probably wouldn’t last an hour.

“Okay, man. I’m in. But after I win, just know that I am definitely tying you up because you will need a serious detox.”

Klaus chuckled and rose from the bed.

“It is on pretty boy”

Diego flicked Klaus on the nose and the two of them prepared for a couple of rough days.

*****

Diego was actually shocked that Klaus had lasted through the night. The two brothers had emptied their rooms of all alcohol to ensure neither one was drinking during the night. Pogo offered to be a neutral viewer and watch over the bar.

The other siblings had an inkling that something was going on between the pair, mostly because their emotions and attitudes were much shorter and meaner than usual. But no one knew the details. (Besides Ben of course).

The night was harder than Diego imagined. He had only been drinking for a few days, but being cut off sucked. His headache didn’t go away, and he was very irritable. Worst of all, he really wanted a drink. But his pride wouldn’t allow him to lose. Not yet anyway.

Klaus on the other hand had done something he never thought he would do willingly. Knowing he was unable to control himself, he had bribed Five with a couple of bags of marshmallows to lock him in the mausoleum for the night.

If Five was worried, he didn’t act like it. He just took the marshmallows, locked the doors, and didn’t look back.

Klaus soon regretted this decision, but having Ben with him this time, made it much more bearable. Ben keep reminding him that the soberer he became, the more likely he was to see Dave again.

Klaus held onto that feeling of hope, although he did feel slightly guilty that Diego didn’t have that option.

****

The two competitors met each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Both were worse for the wear. Not much was exchanged between the two, but just enough to know neither had cracked yet.

Klaus left the kitchen first, deciding he needed a bath. Diego followed soon after and decided to clean his room.

Diego was always one who typically kept his room clean, but after not living at the house for a while, he realized he had some childhood stuff to go through.

It took him a good portion of the day to sort through boxes and throw some stuff away. As Diego was rummaging through one of his drawers, he stumbled across something unexpected.

A flask.

Diego looked around to make sure no one was watching and sniffed it. Of course, it was full. He forgot that he had hidden it here after Dad's funeral. Deciding it was best to dump it, Diego emptied the contents down the sink and put the flask in his pocket.

****

When evening came again, it was just Klaus and Diego. Both sitting on the couch watching a rom-com. Both were still a little on edge, but at least the headaches and sweating had gone away.

Neither knew where the others were, but neither really cared either. Diego had made a bowl of popcorn and Klaus made each of them virgin strawberry daiquiris.

When the move was close to the end, Klaus reached for the remote and accidentally knocked over his glass. Thankfully it was empty, but it made a loud clang noise as it hit the table.

Klaus quickly apologized and glanced over at Diego who had jumped in his seat.

That’s when Klaus noticed something shiny sticking part way out of Diego’s pocket. It didn’t take a genius to know what it was.

“Diego! I can’t believe you! And during our movie night nonetheless!” Klaus patronized.

Klaus immediately dove across the couch and tried reaching for Diego’s pocket. Diego, who was a little slow to react, leaned back just as Klaus lunged. Instead of Klaus’s fingers hitting the flask, his aim was higher and poked Diego right in the ribcage. Diego let out a loud squeak and quickly cowered.

Both remained motionless for a few seconds while trying to figure out what the hell happened.

Klaus’s mouth formed into a smile. Not just a normal smile, but a mischievous one.

“I agree Ben. I also forgot about Diego’s sensitivities. Only fair to take advantage, especially with a cheater in our grasp.”

Diego panicked in his bout of confusion and tried to scramble away. Tickling always rendered Diego useless and once Klaus was going, it was hard to stop him.

“I-I don’t know wha-what your talking about Klaus! I-I didn’t cheat!”

Klaus tsked at his brother.

“First you cheated, and now you lie straight to my face? As the winner of our competition, I sentence you to a bout a tickles to pay for your crime. That will help you detox!”

Diego, now more confused than ever, attempted to roll off the couch and run away from Klaus to no avail. Klaus had the advantage as he quickly pinned Diego by landing on his back in his attempt to roll over. Klaus wasted no time digging his nimble fingers back into Diego’s ribcage to render him useless.

Diego started giggling maniacally and attempted to curl into a ball. Diego’s laughter was music to Klaus’s ears as he continued with his attack. Testing the waters, Klaus slid his fingers between the couch and Diego’s belly. He quickly started pinching the newfound flesh and giggled out-loud at the new string of insults and squeals he elicited from his brother.

Diego looked so adorable with his eyes wrinkled and a light coloring on his cheeks. His smile was genuine even though the laughter was forced. Klaus knew they were both enjoying this wonderful distraction, even if neither would admit it.

Diego snorted when Klaus “accidentally” dipped his finger into his belly button.

Klaus glanced behind the couch at seemingly nothing while he continued to tear Diego apart.

“Oh, that’s right! His belly button is another sensitive spot. Thanks for the reminder Ben!”

With this, Klaus wasted no time in working his fingers into Diego’s soft belly again, while also using his other hand to continue on his ribs. Diego never failed to snort each time that evil finger wormed into his navel. With Klaus squishing his back, Diego wasn’t able to arch his back away from the ticklish torture.

“Kl-Klaus! No! Hahaha, stop it! Whahahat the hell man!”

Diego was embarrassed at how quickly he caved. As children, it was no secret that Diego was by far the most sensitive. Tickle fights were not a super common occurrence, but were very entertaining when they did happen. And Diego was one of his family's favorite victim. Whether it be the loud laughter they always extracted from him or just how easy it was to get him giggling, his siblings loved to mess with him. Ben was the typical instigator, which is probably why he was feeding Klaus all his sensitive spots.

Bastard.

“Do you regret it now Diego?? Don’t you know alcohol is bad for you!” Klaus teased as he was now alternating between strumming his ribs and pinching his sides.

Not only was Diego giggling like a madman, but he was also confused as hell.

“KLAUS WHAHAT DO YOU MEAHEHEN!” Diego screeched out.

Klaus decided to give Diego a breather and switched to lightly tracing his nails against his ears and neck, just to keep him giggling but not enough to kill him.

“Diego, you really are dense! I saw that flask you are hiding in your pocket. So did Ben. He’s nodding in agreement I swear on my life.”

Then it clicked. The flask. Of course, Klaus had spotted it! And of course, he had no clue he had dumped the contents.

“Klaus! I dumped it! Swear to God!! Please just stop!“

Klaus immediately ceased after hearing the serious tone in his brother's voice. After his giggling and laughter had died down, Diego explained everything.

“Oh wow. I’m sorry Diego. I saw the flask and just assumed. I’m proud of you for dumping it, I know I wouldn’t have. Looks like the competition is still on then!”

Diego sat up from his seat.

“You know Klaus? I think I’d like to challenge you to a new competition.”

Klaus tilted his head, waiting for his brother to continue.

“How much you wanna bet that I also remember all of your sensitive spots?”

Klaus didn’t even have time to scramble away before Diego pounced. The room was soon filled with more shrieking and giggling as Diego took his time getting sweet sweet revenge.

The two knew they would have to face reality eventually, but why not do it with clear heads and smiles plastered to their faces?

Eternal sobriety was never going to happen, but knowing that they could overcome the temptation of over drinking was a huge accomplishment in itself. Especially knowing that neither had to fight that battle alone.

****

Hours later when Five finally arrived back at the mansion, he stumbled across the two brothers sleeping on the couch: Klaus’s head in Diego’s lap and Diego’s upper body draped over Klaus’s midsection.

Five just chuckled to himself and draped a blanket over the two of them. If ever questioned, he would swear on his life that he didn’t do it.

Unbeknownst to him, Ben was watching the whole thing, and would definitely be telling Klaus.

#the umbrella academy tickles #tua tickle fic #Lee Diego #switch tickles #tickle fanfiction #tickle fic #First TUA fic #tua fandom #TUA tickle fan fiction #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #sfw tickles #fluffy tickles #Ler!klaus #Lee!diego

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acacia-may · 2 years

Text

It’s A Future Problem

Black Bulls Family Fluff Fic

In trying to decide which of my stories to put up on my Tumblr blog first, this is the one that came to mind. It’s an older one, but it’s one of my favourite things I’ve ever written. I just love Black Bulls family fluff & shenanigans! Thank you for reading!!

Description: Random items are appearing and disappearing through spatial portals throughout the Black Bulls' hideout causing more chaos among the squad than usual. Finral swears his innocence despite an overwhelming amount of evidence to the contrary and is bewildered by his own collection of treasures that keep inexplicably turning up on his desk. However, when the squad teams up to set a trap to catch the mysterious mischief-maker, they get much more than they bargained for. Perhaps there are some mysteries that are better left unsolved...

Rating: T (for some language but mostly just fluffy & fun)

Fandom: Black Clover [**This story takes place early in the series before the arc in the Sea/Underwater Temple but includes some jokes that are dependent on knowledge of things that happen later in the series (so vague(?) spoilers through Ch. 124/Ep. 120/mid-season 3)**]

Genre: Black Bulls Family Fluff & Shenanigans

Characters: Finral Roulacase, Noelle Silva, Vanessa Enoteca, Yami Sukehiro, Asta, Magna Swing, Luck Voltia, Charmy Pappitson, & OC [Kalon].

Word Count: 4,229

No clear/explicitly stated pairings. (Please do with this information what you will)

Link to original post on AO3.

Story #1 in the “Future Problems” Series

Link to “A Mixer Mix-Up” Story #2

Link to “Little Wonders” Story #3 (Stand-Alone Side Story which does not need to be read in order)

Story Under the Cut:

It started with a rock—a mishappen but particularly shiny stone that appeared almost randomly on the desk where Finral wrote his mission reports. He hadn’t thought much about it at the time assuming one of his squad mates had put it there, either randomly or for some reason he didn’t understand. But then there was the feather, several acorns, a thimble, some leaves, a handful of buttons, and a few pieces of candy—all of which inexplicably appeared on the same corner of the desk over the course of a week. Finral began to suspect that these random items were being left there intentionally, but he wasn’t entirely sure by whom until a small bouquet of flowers appeared one afternoon and he decided to take a wild guess.

“Um…Vanessa?” Finral asked as he walked up to her with the lilacs that had been waiting for him on the desk.

Vanessa tilted her head at the purple blossoms. “It’s been awhile since you’ve given me flowers,” she laughed. “I don’t even recognize these ones.”

“I wasn’t…” Finral stumbled in confusion. “Didn’t you leave these for me?”

Vanessa shook her head. “No.”

“On the desk upstairs—like you left the rock and the feather and buttons and candy…” his voice trailed as he tried to remember all the random items that had been appearing recently. Vanessa’s brow furrowed.

“I didn’t leave anything for you, but I was thinking about it ever since you gave me those limes.” Her face brightened. “They’re so fresh. They’ll be great for cocktails later!”

“Limes?” interrupted Finral—his brow furrowing. “I didn’t give you any limes.”

Vanessa chuckled. “If you want your presents to be anonymous you probably shouldn’t portal them into my room while I’m sitting right there.” She frowned. “Speaking of, how did you even get past my traps to get in, in the first place?”

“Wha…what?” Finral choked, his cheeks growing warm. If he was being perfectly honest, he had considered and theorized about how someone could or would get past those traps—his face flushed at the thought—but he had never actually tried it and was fairly certain he would fail if he did.

“Come on, Finral,” said Vanessa tilting her head. “I know you can’t make portals to places you haven’t been before.”

“But I…I haven’t…I didn’t...I’ve never even been to the girls’ side of the hideout,” he stammered. “There’s no way I could’ve made a portal into your room.”

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed as they met his. He swallowed hard. “I saw it,” she said. “You can’t lie to me.”

“Vanessa, I swear…I didn’t…” he choked. “Are you sure you saw…?”

“Yes,” she cut him off with a huff. “There was this small, shiny spatial portal, two limes fell through it, and then it disappeared.”

“You gave Vanessa limes?” huffed Noelle, stomping into the hideout’s common room. Finral tilted his head. She was far more upset about this than he would have expected but maybe it was more at the implication that he could somehow make portals into the girls’ side of the hideout.

He held up both of his hands. “I didn’t…” he began to protest, but Noelle cut him off irritably.

“You give Vanessa limes, but you gave me a disgusting piece of candy that got stuck in my hair.” Noelle seethed and motioned to the brightly colored taffy that was currently stuck in one of her pigtails. Finral’s mouth flew open in shock and confusion. Noelle scrunched up her face furiously. “It won’t come out. Everything I’ve tried has just made it worse.”

“Finral!” Vanessa scolded, and she walked over to inspect the sticky substance in Noelle’s hair as Finral began to ramble.

“I don’t…I don’t even have any taffy, and even if I did I wouldn’t just…” he stopped abruptly. “Why do you think I’m responsible for…?”

“Because I saw your portal!” Noelle insisted irritably. “This gross, sticky gunk just flew out of it right into my hair.”

“What?” Finral shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any…”

“That’s nothing—you should see what he did to Magna!” interjected Luck. Laughing, he bounded through the doorway followed by a drenched and irate flame mage.

“What the heck, man?” Magna snapped as he pushed his sopping, deflated hair out of his face.

Luck clearly found this hilarious as he erupted into laughter. “He’s soaking wet!”

“It’s not funny.” Magna glared at him, then at Finral. “What is wrong with you? Asta, Luck, and I were just out training when suddenly you decide to open a portal and pour milk all over me.”

“It was great! Do it again!” Luck beamed at Finral with a giant grin, but the rest of their companions were clearly incensed with him. Finral rubbed his hand across his forehead. He was so confused—his head was starting to spin.

“But I didn’t…I don’t understand…I’m sorry that all this happened, but I…” He stopped as he was interrupted by Gordon shoving two hands full of buttons into his face and mumbling something Finral couldn’t understand. “I don’t…”

“Hey Finral,” exclaimed Asta with a wave and smile. Finral sighed in relief, at least there was one person who wasn’t mad at him. “Thanks for the cool rock!” he added excited, holding up a jagged grey stone. What?

“Yeah and you hit Asta on the head with that rock!” added the already irritated Magna.

“Why didn’t you throw anything at me?” pouted Luck.

Before Finral could even begin to formulate a response, Charmy rushed in pointing an accusatory finger at him as fury seemingly billowed off of her tiny body in waves.

“There you are, cupcake stealer!”

Finral held up his hands. “Charmy, I promise I didn’t…” he tried to explain helplessly, but Charmy scowled.

“I was making those cupcakes for dessert after dinner, and I sat them down on the counter for just a second before they disappeared through a spatial portal and these were left in their place.” She forcefully shoved a handful of acorns at him. “You think acorns make up for running off with those yummy, delicious treats—? What do you have to say for yourself?”

Finral opened his mouth but could barely choke out any sounds let alone any words. Had he hit his head earlier? Were they all playing some kind of joke on him? None of this made any sense at all—he felt like he was in some sort of alternate reality.

“And even worse you knocked over my sculpture of Marie,” interjected Gauche. Finral didn’t even know when he had gotten there.

“Listen, everybody, I don’t know what’s going on, but I promise I haven’t been sending any of this…”—he waved his hands around, trying to think of the proper word—“stuff through any portals.”

“Finral!” bellowed the loud, booming voice of an irate Captain Yami. It reverberated through the room from wherever he was in the hideout—probably the bathroom, Finral guessed. “You better bring that last roll of toilet paper back in here right now or I swear…”

Finral threw up his hands. “I didn’t take it! I’ve been right here the whole time!” he cried—desperately defending his innocence. “All of this stuff—I didn’t do it. You guys have to believe me!”

“If you didn’t do it, who did? It’s not like there are any other spatial mages who can open portals in our hideout,” argued Noelle.

“I don’t know, but there has to be some other explanation. I’ve been finding weird things recently, too.” He hadn’t actually seen any portals, but he felt he didn’t need to add that part.

“Yeah, we can’t just accuse Finral without any proof like this,” interjected Asta, and Finral’s eyes grew a bit misty as he smiled gratefully at him. What a kind boy—he was so glad Captain Yami had brought him onto their squad as their new rookie.

“We should set a trap!” suggested Luck.

Charmy grinned in agreement. “Yes, let’s catch that nom napper in the act!”

“I’ll go get some wine for the stakeout,” Vanessa chuckled as she headed out of the hideout to visit the market followed by Gordon who was generally responsible for the squad’s money.

“Someone had better bring that toilet paper, damn it!” boomed Captain Yami’s voice over the excited planning and chattering of the squad. Finral sighed and portal-ed away quickly to attend to the Captain’s “emergency” leaving his squad behind to plan their trap for that mysterious spatial magic mischief-maker.

___________________________________________________________

When Finral returned to the hideout’s common room with Captain Yami, he found his squad mates—besides Vanessa and Gordon who were still at the market buying wine and Gauche who had probably lost interest since this plan had nothing to do with Marie—hiding rather obviously behind furniture, watching a conspicuous plate of cupcakes on the table. Finral rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but whoever was causing all this trouble would have to be completely stupid to fall for such a basic, obvious…

Suddenly, a small portal appeared in front of the table, and a hand reached out to take one of the cupcakes. Finral rolled his eyes again. He supposed he had spoken—or rather thought—too soon.

Luck bolted out from behind the couch and grabbed the hand by the wrist. “Gotcha!” he cried triumphantly as the rest of squad jumped up from their hiding places.

“I told you guys it wasn’t me,” huffed Finral, making sure they all saw that as he was clearly standing in the room with them, there was no way he was on the other side of that portal.

Captain Yami walked over to Luck and helped him pull the hand—and the perpetrator—through the portal. “Alright, ya little hooligan, how the hell did you—?” He stopped, and Noelle and Charmy gasped almost in unison as they all gazed upon the face of the troublemaker. He couldn’t have been older than seven or eight and stared back at them with wide, confused eyes. With a full head of messy, thick hair that clearly wouldn’t lay flat and a familiar bright smile that spread across his small, rosy cheeks—Finral nearly choked—the kid looked just like…

“Why is Finral so tiny?” asked Asta tilting his head in confusion.

“That’s not, Finral, knucklehead,” Captain Yami grunted.

“How do you know?” questioned Magna, and the Captain huffed narrowing his eyes at him.

“Look at him—he’s a pipsqueak, and his eyes are a different color, dum…”—the Captain paused, meeting the eyes of the kid in question and seemingly censoring himself—“moron.”

The kid’s smile brightened. “Oh hi, Uncle Yami!” he said as he stared up at the Captain in enthusiastic recognition.

The Captain raised an eyebrow at him. “And who exactly are you, kid?”

The boy giggled with a somewhat unnervingly familiar laugh, “You know who I am, silly?”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed, but the boy seemed either not to notice or not to care. “What’s your name?”

“Kalon,” he replied with a smile, but his eyes widened as he looked around the room. “Oh wow! Uncle Luck and Uncle Magna are here, too. And Uncle Asta and Aunt Noelle” —his face lit up—“Aunt Noelle you look different but really pretty!”

“Ah…ah…uh…” Noelle sputtered as she looked from Kalon to Finral who was stunned speechless. Finral could only blink at her. He felt like he had been hit on the back of the head and could scarcely put a coherent thought together.

“Hey Kalon, how’s it goin’?” asked Asta with a smile. The rest of squad gaped at him.

“You know this kid?” questioned the Captain, but Asta shrugged.

“No, but he said I was his uncle…”

“Wait, are we really his uncles?” asked Luck. “If I’m his uncle, that means we can fight, right?”

“I’m not allowed to fight you until I get my grimoire, Uncle Luck,” Kalon replied with a chuckle. “Dad said.”

“Who exactly is your dad, kid?” asked Captain Yami.

Charmy took a deep breath and began, “You don’t actually think—”

“Aunt Charmy!” Kalon exclaimed with wide, excited eyes. “Thanks for the cupcakes!”

Charmy’s mouth twitched just barely in the corners, but she frowned. “You stole those. They were for dinner.”

“And you poured milk on me,” Magna huffed as he began to count on his fingers—“stole toilet paper, hit Asta with a rock, and stuck candy in Noelle’s hair”

Kalon’s face fell. “I’m sorry. I’m still learning how to work my magic. I didn’t know where the portals were going.”

“So you just sent random things through to who knows where?” questioned Noelle with a pointed glare.

Kalon shrugged. “I sent other things too—good things, like my favorite rock, a cool feather I found, some limes…Ooh! And some pretty flowers too. I could sense my dad’s mana so I thought it was okay…”

Yami narrowed his eyes at the kid. “Your dad…is that Finral?”

Finral nearly choked as Yami motioned to him, and Noelle groaned in disgust.

“You…you can’t just…ask…” Finral stammered. He was dreaming right? This was a dream—it had to be.

Kalon tilted his head and glanced over at Finral in confusion. “Dad? Is that you…?” His little brow furrowed like he was thinking, another look that was all too familiar. This was starting to get very—Finral wasn’t sure there was a word for it so he decided on—weird.

“Oh my…” Noelle exclaimed seemingly too horrified to even finish her thought. She shook her head muttering, “Gross…”

“I think it’s great!” exclaimed Asta. “I love kids! Congratulations, Finral.”

“But…but uh…um…” he choked—his mouth growing suddenly dry and the words getting caught in the back of his throat. The whole room felt like it was spinning, and his head was throbbing.

“I don’t want to live in a world where Finral has…”—Noelle’s face contorted into a grimace, and she wrinkled her nose in appalled disgust—“reproduced…”

Finral was so shocked by the whole situation that he couldn’t find the words to protest—he couldn’t even find it in him to glare at Noelle. All he could do was blink at her dumbstruck until the Captain glowered at him, gritting his teeth.

“Finral, what’s the one rule we have on this squad?”

“The…the ‘one rule’…?” he stammered in reply but stopped abruptly at Yami’s icy, admonishing glare. He swallowed hard and answered quietly, “‘No babies on the squad,’ Sir.”

Finral fidgeted uncomfortably as Yami glanced at Kalon and narrowed his eyes. “And what am I looking at right now?”

“I…I...I have no idea…” Finral spluttered. “But there’s no way… I mean just do the math, Sir…there’s no way I could have a kid this old…”

“Hey kid, is Finral here your dad?” asked Yami bluntly as Finral let out an almost horrified choke.

Kalon frowned. “Those jokes are mean. Mom says…”

“Mom?” gasped several horrified voices—Finral’s not being one of them as his face was blushing beet red at the idea and he struggled to find his words.

“What kind of woman…?” began Noelle before she grimaced and shut her mouth as Kalon’s entire face seemed to light up.

“Mom is the best! She’s my favorite person besides Dad,” he paused glancing at Finral inquisitively. “What are you doing here, Dad? How can you be in two places at once?”

“Two…places at…once?” choked Finral—his brow furrowing. Kalon’s brow furrowed in much the same way before he partially ducked his head through his portal.

“Dad, how can you be in two places at once?” he called to the other side. After a pause he said, “No really, you’re on the other side of this portal too.” Pause. “It’s to Uncle Henry’s house.”

“Who is Henry?” questioned Magna as a strange look passed over Captain Yami’s face.

“Does he want to steal our hideout? I’ll fight him for it!” exclaimed Luck puffing out his chest a little.

“Shut up, knuckleheads,” grunted the Captain rolling his eyes.

Finral shook his head and tried to focus the best he could on the one-sided conversation Kalon seemed to be having—though he couldn’t seem to focus on much of anything. His brain was fried—his head was completely empty.

Kalon smiled brightly at him before he said to the other side of the portal, “It’s different—kinda floofy and it sticks up on the sides but not as much. It’s all in your face too...” He paused and tilted his head at Finral before he turned to the other side of the portal. “No, there isn’t any green in it.”

Finral’s eyes narrowed, and he just barely shook his head in confusion. What in the world was this kid talking about?

Kalon looked around the room before he said, “Uncle Yami, Uncle Magna, Uncle Luck, Aunt Charmy, Aunt Noelle, Uncle Asta, and…” He paused and smiled. “Oh hi, Aunt Secre! I didn’t see you before.” The Black Bulls looked around at each other in bewilderment.

“Who is that?” questioned Noelle.

Yami shrugged. “Even I don’t know that one.”

“Well maybe she’s around here somewhere,” said Asta, and he began looking almost frantically for this mysterious person while Nero flew off of his head and settled in on a windowsill instead, probably preferring a perch that wasn’t moving around so much.

“Do you want to play hide and seek?” asked Kalon to seemingly no one—or perhaps this mysterious ‘Aunt Secre’ whoever that was—before he turned his attention back to the other side of his portal. “Oh…” he looked around. “No, she isn’t. Uncle Gordon isn’t either and neither is Uncle Gauche. And…” Kalon frowned. “Aw man…Uncle Zora isn’t here either.”

“Now, he’s just making people up,” interrupted Magna with a shake of his head.

“Aunt Grey is missing too, but there’s somebody…I don’t know who they are…” Kalon’s eyes narrowed at Grey who he had just said was missing. Finral blinked rapidly. He couldn’t even begin to wonder what was going on.

“Oh yeah, he has both arms and they look okay to me!” Kalon said seemingly at random.

“Whose arms? Who is he talking about?” asked Charmy who was practically bouncing up and down in energetic confusion.

“You got a lotta explaining to do, kid,” Captain Yami interrupted him, giving his arm a gentle tug.

Kalon looked up into his face and smiled. “Have you been to the beach recently?”

Captain Yami blinked. He clearly had no idea how to respond to that.

“Clearly this kid inherited Finral’s scatterbrain,” huffed Noelle with a sigh.

“We went to the beach once. It was really fun. We got to build a sand castle and…” Kalon was jerked backwards as if whoever was on the other side of this portal was pulling his other arm.

“That sounds awesome,” interjected Asta enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to go to the beach.”

“They haven’t been yet…” said Kalon turning his head. There was a long pause, and Kalon nodded solemnly. “Oh…okay…” He turned back to the bewildered Black Bulls. “My dad says I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore because I'm a time traveler and it might change the future,” he said with a cheerful nonchalance that did not fit at all with what he had said.

“What the hell?” exclaimed Captain Yami seemingly too shocked to remember to censor himself in front of the kid.

Kalon shrugged. “Dad said he thought this might happen, but he wasn’t sure. He says my portals can travel back in time instead of just to other places…” He paused and smiled at Finral who could only gape at him. His ‘supposedly’ future son could ‘supposedly’ time travel now? Could today get any crazier?

“I guess that means you’re my young dad then!” added Kalon with a smile that faded a little when he added, “Dad says I can’t play with you anymore because it might change things…but someday when I can use my magic better, I’m going to come back so we can all play together!” His face brightened. “You all seem like lots of fun when you’re young!”

“Are we not fun when we’re older?” gasped Luck in horror. “Did we all get…”—his volume dropped as if he didn’t want to say it aloud—“boring?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” said Kalon with a sympathetic smile. “I have to go now. Sorry for causing all that trouble…I’ll try to be more careful.” He looked down at the cupcake in his hand.

“Can I take this with me, Aunt Charmy?”

“Sure,” she shrugged a bit unsurely, but she smiled.

Kalon nodded and waved goodbye saying, “See you later! Have fun at the beach—especially you, Young Dad!”

“Wait!” exclaimed Finral—his body somehow moving on its own and gently grabbing onto Kalon’s arm before he disappeared through the portal. “Who is your mother?” he choked out almost desperately. Finral almost sighed with relief knowing he could’ve never forgiven himself if he had let his ‘supposedly’ future son disappear without asking. He shook his head at the thought. Honestly, this day…

Kalon laughed. “Dad said you would ask that, Young Dad.” He sighed. “But he says if I tell you, it might change the future and that would be bad because we’re all really happy.” His smile brightened, and Finral’s face softened, his mouth just barely twitching into a slight smile.

“I’m happy…?” he asked, almost in a whisper. “In the future…?”

“Very happy,” said Kalon with an affectionate smile and wide, loving eyes that overwhelmed Finral with a wave of emotion he couldn’t decipher or understand. He wiped his eyes as he sniffled, and Kalon sat down his cupcake on the table and patted Finral’s head gently with his hand. “You’re the best! That’s why I left you all those presents.”

Finral gasped, blinking his misty eyes. So all of those random little things…they were presents for him after all. He sniffled again but cleared his throat.

“Thank you for the gifts,” he managed with a slight smile. “Especially the flowers.” He held up the bouquet he had been gripping in his sweaty fist, and Kalon smiled brightly.

“I’m glad you liked them, and I’m glad I got to meet you when you were young!” he replied with cheery laugh. “And all of you too!” he added to the room at large. “Though I still don’t know who that is…” His brow furrowed towards Grey who exhaled.

“That’s Grey,” said Asta.

“Really? Wow! You look way different in the future,” laughed Kalon as he turned to disappear through the portal. “I hope I didn’t mess it up…” he added with a strikingly familiar, breathy laugh as he rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. Captain Yami shook his head in disbelief, but Finral could only gape at him as he turned around one last time and said with a wink, “Dad says to hang in there, Young Dad!”

Finral smiled—he supposed—at his future, which wasn’t looking all that bad, after all, and he even managed to wave goodbye as Kalon disappeared through the portal. The Black Bulls watched the portal flicker and vanish with their jaws open in dumbfounded shock and confusion—their common room had never been so quiet with so many of them in there before.

As soon as all traces of Kalon’s portal had completely evaporated, Finral let out the breath he had been holding and finally choked out the words he had so desperately been wanting to say, “What the actual hell?”

___________________________________________________________

Epilogue:

When Vanessa and Gordon returned from the market, they found their entire squad essentially stunned speechless.

“What happened?” asked Vanessa in confusion.

“Don’t wanna talk about it…” Magna mumbled, shaking his head before stalking off.

“Okay…?” Vanessa tilted her head. “Did you figure out who was causing all that trouble with those portals?”

“Yeah,” answered Luck scrunching up his face. “He says I’m going to be boring! I’m not going to be boring! Magna fight me so I can prove I’m not boring!” he added running off after Magna.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed. “Who says? Luck? Wait! Who was it?”

“You know,” said Charmy shoving a whole cupcake in her mouth. “There are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“I wish I didn’t know…” Noelle huffed with an almost disgusted scowl.

“But then we would have never learned about time travel magic, and it’s so cool. It’s like the wizard king’s magic!” exclaimed Asta, and Finral who had been deep in thought in the corner practically jumped up.

“That’s it! I marry the Wizard King’s sister in the future!” he gasped excitedly. “Yeah, his super kind, super beautiful, and super amazing sister—that makes sense!”

“He doesn’t have a sister, dumbass,” Captain Yami huffed before he turned to Vanessa. “Oh, thank goodness. Please tell me you brought wine…”

“Yeah…I did…” her voice trailed as she held out the box of wine bottles to Captain Yami. He took one and picked up one of the corkscrews they had lying around. Once he had opened it, he drank straight from the bottle. Vanessa blinked at him—her jaw falling slightly slack. “Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

“I can,” grunted the Captain. “But you’re probably going to want to open another bottle of wine first…”

The End

#black clover fanfic #black clover fanfiction #black clover oc #the black bulls #finral roulacase #noelle silva #vanessa enoteca #yami sukehiro #asta black clover #magna swing #luck voltia #charmy pappitson #black bulls family #self indulgent #thanks for reading #warm and fuzzy #mystery solved

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theowlsarequeer · 3 years

Text

So Dana said on a stream that it's too late for a full Season 3 of The Owl House (there are going to be three 44-minute episodes instead of the 20-ish the crew had in mind,) probably because the crew has already started working on the episodes and scheduling and stuff. However, it's not yet too late for us to possibly get a season 4 and beyond. The Owl House is an amazing show with off the charts animation, lovable and relatable characters, and A+ representation, and it deserves more than what Disney is giving it.

So many people of different ages love it (I watch it with my siblings and it's our favorite show and there's a significant age gap between me and the youngest,) and the cast and crew have obviously poured their heart and souls into every episode and it shows, so it would be incredibly sad to see it get only 2 and a half seasons.

On a slightly different note, I have heard some stuff on Twitter about some kind of graphic novel based on TOH, kind of like we got with Gravity Falls. I'll let you know if I hear anything about that.

So, what can we do to get more seasons? It's pretty similar to what we were doing before when we wanted a full season 3, except now that we're 5 episodes into Season 2, we have a little more information as to what's working and what's not.

Snail Mail is still the most effective way to persuade Disney to extend a show. This is partially because people who send letters are slightly more likely to be adults, aka people who can pay for a Disney channel/Disney+ subscription, but also because the amount of letters they get is tiny compared to the amount of notifications they get on social media. The address you send these to is: Disney TVA, 811 Sonora Ave., Glendale, California, USA. For people who can't send letters, someone might be willing to mail letters for you. I only found one person and they stopped doing it before I could submit, but if I find someone else I'll definitely tell you. If you know anyone, drop the link in the notes! Another important note: I've heard that Disney will throw out letters they classify as "hate mail," aka anything accusatory, and while I don't know how accurate this is, we probably shouldn't take chances. Explain how much the show means to you/your friends or family, say that it's a wonderful show, talk about your favorite parts, and maybe throw in some fanart if you're an artist! Also mention the queer representation if you can, because that's the part Disney was most against doing, and if they can see that people think positively of it (aka they can get money from it) they'll likely allow more, either in The Owl House or future projects.

Every time we get a new episode, the show trends to a certain extent on Tumblr, Twitter, or both. Disney execs see this. Keep posting! I might try to organize a trend event like with Infinity Train in between seasons 2 and 3 if that's something people would be interested in.

Stream the show on Disney+. I know we hate supporting the mouse, but if you have access to a Disney+ account this is absolutely one of the best ways to support the show. Season 1 recently became available in Canada, and I heard something about it becoming available in Columbia a few months ago. The first five episodes of season 2 will be available in the US on Disney+ starting July 21. (Separate Tides, Escaping Expulsion, Echoes of the Past, Keeping Up A-Fear-Ances, and Through the Looking Glass Ruins.

Petitions only go so far, but it takes 2 seconds and can't hurt. Here's 2 I've signed, feel free to add more if you know more: Petition for The Owl House Season 4 and Petition I've been spreading for awhile now

Create content! Fanart, fanfics, animatics, et cetera. This helps us trend and gives us less artistically talented fans some much-needed content. I'm considering giving 1 TOH-focused artist a week a special boost in addition to my regular art/fic reblogs but idk if my platform's quite big enough for that.

If you have Twitter, consider giving some crew members a follow. Infinity Train creator Owen Dennis has said that networks will often look at a creator's follower count before greenlighting their show, to see how much support the show would get. The crew is also filled with some very cool people who post very cool things.

Animated TV shows are the most popular they've been in a long time among teen and adult audiences, and TOH has a pretty big fanbase. I believe we can harness that power for good and get some more of the show we all love. I'll be updating whenever I get more information, and feel free to drop any petitions, information, et cetera in the notes. I'll make a separate post later to boost content creators. In the meantime, hoot hoot, let's get a Season 4.

#cody speaks #toh #the owl house

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

like I was already brave enough to let go

7.2k || Chapter 1/2 || ao3

Enzo understands that leaving New York in the wake of everything is what's best for TK, but that doesn't make it any easier. Watching his stepson pack up all his broken pieces and move across the country hurts him in ways he can't describe, mostly due to the knowledge that there will be a distance between them that has never existed before. So he takes the time to check-in, to keep track of TK. To be there for him, no matter what.

He's just starting to wish that he had picked somewhere other than Austin, because he is quickly discovering he is not built for this level of stress.

After reading @futures-tense’s Enzo fic (that everyone should read, it is phenomenal) I couldn’t get thoughts of him and his relationship with TK out of my head, so naturally I wrote this. It fits into canon evetns and this is only chapter 1 of 2, because while I so have an outline for season 2 events, this was getting long so I figured I’d at least post what I had.

Massive thanks to @silvarafael and @justaswampdemon for all their help and support with this, you’re both the best!

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

He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when TK opened his apartment door, but the sad shell of the boy Enzo had come to love as his own wasn’t it.

Or maybe it was, but it hurt all the same.

“Hey kid,” he said softly, stepping carefully around him and into the apartment. He looked around the small space, taking in all the boxes haphazardly labeled and partially packed. “So, it’s true. Your mom told me but I don’t think I believed her. Never thought I’d see the day TK Strand willingly left New York for Texas, of all places.”

“Who says it’s willingly,” he said dully as he shut the door behind Enzo.

Enzo turned and studied him more closely, taking in the downturned eyes and anxious fingers thumbing the seam of his hoodie pocket, “Do you not want to go? Because you can stay here. I’ll talk to your mom, you can stay with us if you…”

But TK cut him off with a shake of his head, “No,” he said, “I think I need to do this. Dad’s right, I need a fresh start. I can’t...I don’t think I can be here anymore. When I think of staying here, I don’t see a way forward. I think if I stayed here I’d…” he trailed off, but Enzo felt a chill rush through him at the implication of what TK hadn’t said. He tried to meet his eyes but TK looked away, casting his gaze downward and away from Enzo’s sympathetic eyes.

It hurt him more than he could say to see TK like this. For all his struggles he had always been a happy kid. He had always been someone who found the joy in life where he could and he had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, for better or worse. Seeing him like this and knowing what had happened hurt Enzo in ways he couldn’t fully describe because he didn’t know the right words. All he knew for sure is that this was not the TK he had known and loved for 16 years standing before him. This was a stranger; someone he had only seen once before during a time he had hoped to never revisit.

He hadn’t asked what happened because he knew enough and he wasn’t about to make the kid revisit it just so he could fill in some blanks. He might not know everything but he knew enough to feel hot anger course through him at the thought of someone breaking that too big heart of his. TK had always been someone who loved fully and completely, and to see that thrown back in his face so spectacularly made Enzo—a typically steady and calm man — strongly consider homicide.

He had every confidence that Gwyn could get him out of any charges too, but he pushed that thought aside to focus on the scene before him.

“This isn’t your fault, TK.”

TK turned away from him, absently picking up some books from the table and dropping them into one of the boxes. “I know I didn’t make Alex cheat,” he says eventually, “but the rest of it? That is completely on me Enzo, no one else.”

He could sense that the kid had more to say so he let him go, watching from the doorway as he listlessly picked up other odds and ends from around his apartment, tossing them into boxes without any real care as to what the labels on the side said. He knew TK would speak up when he was ready and it was only a few more minutes before he did.

“Eight years,” he finally said, his rough voice breaking the silence of the half-packed apartment. “Eight fucking years of sobriety, all gone. And that’s all on me. It doesn’t matter what Alex did, I’m the one who made the choice. I am the one who let him have that power over me and…” he broke off, meeting Enzo’s eyes for a moment before looking away and swallowing. “I do need to leave,” he said eventually. “I don’t trust myself to stay here anymore. I don’t know if I’d survive it.”

Enzo could feel his heart breaking for the kid. He wasn’t a kid anymore — now 26 and an adult — but in Enzo’s eyes sometimes he was still the 10-year-old who met his eyes shyly when Gwyn first introduced them, the 14-year-old who had admitted to him in a terrified whisper that he thought he might like boys, the 19-year-old who had come to him because he wanted to enroll in the fire academy and didn’t know how his mother would take it. The feeling he had now was just like the feelings he had had then. This overwhelming love and desire to protect him from everything bad in the world; from anyone that ever told him he wasn’t enough.

And just like he had then, he stepped forward, closing the space between them to pull him into a hug. He held him close, pressing his face into his chest and placing a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re making the smart choice then,” he said evenly. “And, as much as I’ll miss you, I’m proud of you for doing what you have to do. You’ve beat this once and you’ll beat it again, I have no doubt about that.”

He knew he wasn’t imagining it when the body in his arms sagged in relief. It made him clutch him that much tighter as he spoke again, hoping what he was about to say was a given but needing to say it anyway: “And I will always be here for you, no matter where you live. I’m always just a phone call away, you know that, right?”

TK’s voice was muffled by the material of Enzo’s sweater, but he could still hear the tears in it clear as day, “I do.”

“Good,” Enzo replied firmly, releasing his grip on TK and stepping back so he could meet his eyes. “Because I will be calling to check-in, that is a promise.”

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

Watching him leave was bittersweet, but he believed TK when he said it was something he needed to do. He took some solace in the fact that he wouldn’t be alone. Enzo and Owen Strand may have had their differences over the years (many, many differences) but if there was one thing Enzo had never doubted it was the other man’s love for his son. He knew that TK was in good hands, but that didn’t make it any easier.

He got confirmation they had arrived in Austin in the form of a text that included a picture of a shop selling cowboy hats that simply said, “turns out people actually do where these here. Yes, it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.” It is followed by another two days later that noted the crimes Texas has committed against pizza and though Enzo was still filled with worry, he allowed himself to smile and take it as a sign that he was healing, be it ever so slightly.

He gave it almost a week before he called. He wanted to hear TK’s voice; to have proof that he really was okay, but he also wanted to give him time. His patience was helped by the fact that Gwyn had spoken to her son but eventually, he decided that he needed to hear from him himself.

TK answered by the third ring, sounding out of breath. He greeted him warmly, and Enzo could hear the commotion of construction in the background. He raised an eyebrow, “What, did you decide to leave the fire department and become a contractor when I wasn’t looking?”

This pulled a laugh out of TK and Enzo took a moment to savor the familiar sound. It felt like far too long since he’s last heard it.

“No. Dad decided we should re-do the firehouse, to give everyone a fresh start. I figured I might as well help out. Besides,” he added with a shrug Enzo could almost hear, “demolition is the far healthier method of coping with feelings, right?”

“When done with permission,” Enzo quipped in response. “How are you doing kid, has the pizza chased you away yet?”

TK scoffed, “No, but it was a close thing. Honestly, I really haven’t had that much time to dwell. I’ve been helping with the demo and construction, as well as the candidate interviews and paperwork. I haven’t really taken too much time to think about anything.”

TK said it matter of factly and Enzo almost moved past it. But he knew TK better than most. “You don’t have to punish yourself, kid,” he told him gently. “All you need to do is heal.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” TK objected, “I’m just...trying to keep busy. To distract myself.”

TK might very well think that, but Enzo was pretty sure it wasn’t true. But he was willing to move past it, for now.

“Tell me about the new crew,” he said instead, and smiled as TK launched into stories about a daredevil from Miami and a possible psychic from Chicago. He seemed enthusiastic and Enzo didn’t realize how good it felt to hear that until he had. It was like there was a little bit of life back in his voice and though he knew TK still had a long way to go to make this better, he was relieved to see that he was at least on the way.

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

For a while, everything seemed to be going great. TK called and texted him from time to time, sharing anecdotes from calls and his new crew, and each time Enzo thinks he can hear just a little bit more of his old self returning to his voice. Sure he complains about one of them, for a while, but that too seems to sort itself out.

He could tell there is someone new in his life too, even if TK is hedgy about it at best. But Enzo was the first one to know that TK was gay at 14; he knew how to spot the signs.

“Why won’t you tell me about him?” he asked him one day, voice light and teasing as he stuffed his papers into his bag. “Is there something horribly wrong with him?”

“No,” TK countered emphatically, “there is nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing,” he added, almost an unconscious mutter Enzo was not entirely sure he was supposed to hear.

“So if there is ‘absolutely nothing’ wrong with him, why aren't you going for it?”

There was silence on the other end as Enzo slid his bag onto his shoulder, patiently waiting the younger man out.

“You know why,” he eventually said, voice low and sad. Enzo grimaced at how pained his voice sounded and he dropped back into his desk chair with a sigh.

“TK…” he began, but the younger man cut him off firmly.

“No, Enzo. I...I thought I could. I thought we could have something casual and that I could handle it. But then he wanted more and I hurt him. I don’t want to do that, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s too good to get dragged into my shitshow.”

“Have you asked him what he wants?” Enzo asked gently.

The bark of laughter TK gave at that was sharp and harsh, “Yeah, that should go well. Definitely won’t lead to me having to explain to this guy I’ve hooked up with a handful of times all the ways I’m fucked up right now.”

Enzo sighed again, leaning back in his chair, “It won’t always be like this, T. Someday you will be ready to try again, but only if you let yourself consider the possibility. Can you at least promise me that?”

There was silence for a long stretch and Enzo was about to ask him again when TK’s voice finally responded quietly, “Yes.”

“Good,” Enzo responded firmly, “because no matter what happened, you still deserve happiness. And someday you’ll be ready to let it in again — maybe sooner than you think.”

The sound of acknowledgment TK made sounded skeptical at best, but Enzo would take it. He knew he was right and he knew that someday TK would realize it too. Maybe even sooner than he thought.

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

It’s about a week later when Enzo’s phone rings, nearly making him jump as he is pulled abruptly from his stack of midterms. It took him a few moments of shuffling blue books to even locate his phone and when he did he frowned at both the time and the name displayed on the screen.

“Hey kid,” he said lightly as he answered the phone, “what’s up?”

He had hoped he was overreacting, that TK was just calling him late because he was on shift and had lost track of the time. He had hoped that maybe the universe was finally giving the kid a break.

The despair and fear so clear in TK’s voice quickly prove him wrong.

“Hey Enzo,” he said softly, “fuck, I know it’s late and I’m sorry to bother you, but I just really needed to talk to someone.”

“You are never a bother,” Enzo told him firmly, capping his pen and setting it down on his desk. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” TK began before stopping, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I don’t know for sure yet, but I know something is.”

And Enzo believed him. The fear in his voice is so raw Enzo could feel every ounce of it even from a timezone away. “I’m going to need more than that, kid,” he told him gently, leaning back in his chair as he waited TK out.

“I found something,” TK said eventually, “that I definitely wasn’t supposed to find. And it means something awful. Something I don’t know if I can handle. But it also means he doesn’t trust me,” TK continued, “and somehow that almost feels worse.”

Enzo frowned, pondering all the non-specific details in his mind. He didn’t know all that much about his stepson’s life in Austin, but he knew enough to know that while he was close to his new crew, he wasn’t close enough to be this upset by an omission from one of them. That left him with two possibilities: the mysterious man he was not seeing, or Owen.

And Enzo knew which option was more likely and it made his heart sink. TK might not be sharing but Ezno knew both the Strand men better than most. If there was something Owen felt strongly enough to keep from his son that TK was this upset about, it wasn’t good news.

“You don’t have to tell me what it is,” he said cautiously, “but is it something about your dad?”

There was a deep, shuddering breath before TK responded, “Yeah.”

And Enzo shut his eyes, the hurt and fear in TK’s voice telling him all he needed to know.

“I don’t know what this is about,” he said eventually, “and you don’t have to tell me. But I do know you, and I know whatever it is you are going to want to be there for him, because that’s who you are. Let him know that, and the rest will follow from there.”

There was silence again, but Enzo waited TK out. He was familiar with this rhythm; when something was bothering TK he often took his time to make sure he had the words right before he spoke. Over the years Enzo had learned to wait him out knowing that he would get to his point when he was ready.

He did a few moments later, “I do want to be there for him,” TK agreed, “I just know why he didn’t tell me. He doesn’t think I can handle it — and he’s right,” TK confessed softly, “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Ezno assured him firmly, “you can do anything you set your mind to. You always have.”

He let his words sink in for a moment before he added, “And I would talk to your dad before you make any assumptions. Let him know he can rely on you, let him know you want to be there.”

“You make it sound so easy,” TK said dryly, and Enzo huffed a laugh.

“In a way it is. It’s just words. It’s the actions behind them that are hard.”

There was silence again before TK spoke, his voice so quiet Enzo almost missed his next words, “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Enzo reminded him, “sometimes fear is the appropriate response.”

But even as he said it, he could feel his heart breaking. He didn’t know what was going on and while he was sure he would find out soon enough, he couldn’t help but hate whatever it was. TK deserved some time to find himself, to heal and simply exist. He didn’t understand why the universe kept throwing such curveballs at him, but he wished with every fiber of his being it would stop.

“Sometimes it is,” TK agreed in a tone that made Enzo wonder even more what this was all about. But he didn’t ask; TK would tell him when he was ready. For now he would just be here for him. Sometimes that was all he could do.

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

As much as Enzo couldn’t help but worry about the younger man, sometimes the updates were a sign that things were getting better for him, slowly but surely.

One such time came as he and Gwyn were sitting on the couch together, Enzo making a case for watching Jeopardy with Gwyn adamantly refusing.

“No,” she said again with a firm shake of her head, “it always ends the same way.”

He shrugged, “I can’t help that you’re too competitive, or that I’m better at it then you are,” he added, giving her a sly grin.

“We can’t all have PhDs in history,” she said wryly, “some of us need to work for a living.”

He opened his mouth to fire back a retort but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Saved by the bell,” he said instead with a shake of his head as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He frowned when he saw the familiar name on the screen and turned it so Gwyn could see.

“Hey T,” he said cautiously as he answered, “everything good?”

There was a lot of noise in the background but he could hear TK’s voice clearly as he answered, “Yeah, I just had a question for you. These people don’t believe me so I need your cred as a Columbia history professor to back me up.”

Enzo raised an eyebrow at Gwyn, who had leaned closer to hear. She bit her lip against a laugh and he shook his head fondly, “I’ll do what I can. What’s the question?”

“Hang on,” TK said, “I’m going to put you on speaker.” There was the sound of fumbling before the background noise grew louder and TK’s voice returned. “Okay guys,” he was saying, “this is my stepdad Enzo. He’s a history professor at Columbia and if you don’t believe me maybe you’ll believe him. You want to ask him the question, Paul?”

“Man, you didn’t need to…”

“No, this is a point of pride now.” TK objected indignantly and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to see that she had fully pressed a hand against her mouth to stop any laughter from slipping out and giving away her eavesdropping. “Ask him,” TK prompted and there was a sigh before a new voice joined the conversation.

“Sir, we are so sorry to bother you. TK’s just being a sore loser.”

“Paul, right?” Enzo asked and got a sound of confirmation in return, “You don’t have to tell me that, I helped raise him.” There was an indignant noise in the background, likely from TK, but Enzo ignored it. “What’s the question?”

“Who invented the first movie camera?”

“Louis Le Prince,” Enzo replied without hesitation, unable to suppress a chuckle at the sound of TK’s triumphant ha! In the background. “You guys thought it was Edison, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Paul admitted sheepishly and Enzo chuckled lightly.

“That’s understandable. Edison was the first person to mass market it and the first to get recognized for it, but Le Prince was actually the first. But he mysteriously disappeared in 1890, right before he was set to take a trip to the US to talk about his invention. So he never got a chance to market it.”

There was silence for a moment before Paul spoke again, “So is there any proof Edison had him killed or…?”

“No,” Enzo admitted, “but that is one of the theories for sure. Another is his brother did it over the family will. Either way, Edison was not the first.”

“Huh,” Paul said thoughtfully, “that’s actually fascinating. Dude, I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“It’s fine,” TK said evenly, “I am more than a pretty face you know.”

There was a collective snort from the other end of the phone and Enzo glanced at Gwyn to roll his eyes. She shook her head fondly and he returned his attention to the call, “Any other burning history questions or was that it?”

The background noise lessened as TK took the phone off speaker. “No, that’s it. Thanks, Enzo.”

“Anytime kid,” he told him, “you know I love to flex my random history facts.” That got another laugh out of TK, but Enzo could still hear the background noise of a group in the background. The sounds of easy comradery set his mind at ease in a way not much else had since TK had left for Texas. “Why don’t you get back to your friends and I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it. I love you kid.”

“Love you too. Say hi to mom for me?”

“You’ve got it.”

With that the call was over and Enzo was left back in their silent living room, Gwyn looking at him with a soft smile.

“He sounds happy,” she said after a moment, her voice warm but thick. He nodded.

“He does. As much as I do hate to admit it, I think going to Austin may have the best thing for him.”

“You just hate that Owen was right.”

“And you don’t?” he asked her with a raised eyebrow.

“Well that’s a given,” she quipped, leaning closer to him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed them as she rested her head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad he’s doing better,” she said softly after a moment, “I’ve been so worried about him.”

“Me too,” he admitted, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair. That sat in silence for a few more moments, each lost in their own thoughts before he spoke again.

“So is that still a no to Jeopardy or…?”

She swatted at him and he grinned, ducking away from the light hit. Things seemed to have returned to their equilibrium, and that was a relief.

He just hoped it stayed that way.

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

When he was wrested from sleep by the shrill sound of his phone ringing cutting through the late-night silence of his bedroom, Enzo groaned. He swore under his breath as he fumbled for the device, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he did. But when he managed to grasp his phone and saw the name on the screen, all thoughts of annoyance fled his mind. Owen Strand calling him was rarely a good sign. Owen Strand calling him at 2 am promised nothing short of disaster.

“Owen?” he said as he answered, skipping any and all attempts at pleasantries. “Is everything okay?”

He could afford to give the universe the benefit of the doubt, he decided; even if only for a moment.

When Owen’s reply came it was in a voice Enzo didn’t recognize. It was shaky and uncertain in a way that the other man never was.

“Enzo, hey. I’m sorry to bother you but Gwyn’s not answering her phone and…” he broke off with a shaky breath, “I really need to talk to her.”

“She’s in Beijing,” Enzo replied, sitting up and switching on the lamp beside him. “And given the time difference, probably in a meeting.”

He heard Owen swear distantly before he felt fear rise up in him. Owen calling him at 2 in the morning looking for Gwyn and out of sorts only added up to one thing, but Enzo so hoped he was wrong.

“Owen, did something happen to TK?” he forced himself to ask; the stress of not knowing was worse than anything else.

He could hear Owen take another breath, deep and shaky and filled with something else Enzo couldn’t identify on a phone call from half a country away.

“There was an...incident,” Owen said softly, voice still unsteady, “on our last call.”

Enzo’s mind was already spinning, stumbling from one horrible possibility from another.

“There was a man with dementia who broke into his old house and a homeowner who had a cardiac event and TK broke down the door and….he was shot.”

Enzo heard the words, he knew he did. But he couldn’t have. If he had heard them that would mean that TK had been shot and that was not something that could be true. His stepson was a firefighter. It was a profession that came with enough risks of its own. He had spent countless days worried and fearful at the thought of rescues gone wrong, of untamable flames and unstable buildings. Never once had he even entertained the thought of a bullet being a risk to watch out for. Bullets were supposed to be the problem of other people with other jobs — not his stepson, who already had so many dangers to face.

But it was true. The fear and pain in Owen’s voice told him it was true. There was an edge of both hysteria and despair in his words and that more than anything scared Enzo more than he could say.

“Where?” was the first coherent thought he could form.

“Just below his left shoulder” Owen repeated mechanically. “His...his lung collapsed before we were even out of the hallway. Enzo, he couldn’t breathe. He kept trying but he couldn’t and there was so much blood....” Owen trailed off and Enzo could hear the unmistakable sound of a sob in the background even as his own hands trembled and his eyes watered.

“Is he…” he started, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. He couldn’t speak the awful possibility into existence.

“He’s headed to surgery,” Owen replied. “I don’t know anything more than that, we only got here about 15 minutes ago. I just...I just hope it was fast enough.”

There was silence then as the two men allowed the same fear to consume them from opposite ends of the country. Enzo felt a morbid camaraderie with the other man in that moment. In the 16 years they had known each other it was safe to say that they had never exactly gotten along. They had always been polite and cordial for the sake of Gwyn, TK, and family gatherings but they were too different in too many ways that mattered to ever truly be friends. They had only ever agreed on one thing, and now that was the thing that tied them together — loving TK.

“You got him there as fast as you could Owen,” Enzo assured him without hesitation because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that it wasn’t true. “You did everything you could. Any chance he has is because of you.”

“I think the credit lays more with the paramedics,” Owen objected, “but I appreciate the effort all the same.”

Enzo opened his mouth again, not quite sure what he was going to say but feeling the overwhelming need to say something, but he was interrupted before he got the chance to figure it out.

There was a noise on the other end followed by the sound of shuffling as Owen attended to whatever it was. When his voice returned, it was tight.

“That’s Gwyn on the other line, I’ve gotta take it. But listen, Enzo…”

But Enzo just shook his head, “Don’t worry about it Owen, talk to her. Just, keep me updated?”

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, “as soon as I know anything.”

Then with another hurried goodbye, the call was over and Enzo was left in the dark and quiet bedroom, alone. It wasn’t long before the tears he had felt threatening began to fall in earnest as he wrapped his mind around this reality and allowed himself to dwell on it. There was a chance — a very real and terrifying chance — that they could lose TK. That Gwyn and Owen could lose the son they had brought into this world and loved for 26 years. That Enzo could lose one of the people he loved the most. The thought of TK not existing anymore was too horrible to dwell on.

Enzo was a religious man. He had been raised by a small Jewish family in a large community and his faith had been something that he had always had. It had seen him through so much. But now, with this, he had to wonder. It didn’t make sense that TK — his wonderful, caring stepson who had dedicated his life to helping people — should have to suffer so much in such a short time on earth. It went against everything he had ever believed about putting good into the world. Why should TK — who had never done anything to hurt anyone — have to suffer so? Why should he? He didn’t want to know what life without TK looked like.

More than anything, he hated that he might find out.

When Gwyn called him a few minutes later he pushed his own tears aside. He murmured soft reassurances as she sobbed in a quiet corner of a Beijing office building, consumed with fear and grief a world away from her child who was slipping further and further from them with every passing moment. He gave her empty platitudes, reassured her the best he could.

But all the while the fear was drilling a hole straight through his chest. This, he decided, was the worst fear he had ever felt.

The worst part was there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope desperately for the best.

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

The next several days were some of the longest of Enzo’s life. Each day he woke up and went about the day. Each day he kept his phone volume on, not wanting to miss any news either way. Each day an update came from Owen and each day it was the same: no change.

He debated going out to Austin — he had been halfway through buying a ticket online half a dozen times — but each time he stopped himself. Logically he knew that being there wouldn’t change anything. He would still be waiting, he’d just be waiting there. He told himself he was needed here, that he couldn’t just pick up and go across the country with no warning. It was the end of the semester and he had students to help to finish the course or their dissertation. He told himself staying was the responsible option, but he knew that it was largely just a distraction. But he would take any distraction he could get and so he pushed the guilt of not being there to the side

He taught his classes, he went through the motions. He fielded calls from Gwyn, still stuck in China and frantic with worry. Each day he reassured her; reminded her that TK was strong, young, and healthy. Above all that, he reminded her, he was stubborn. No bullet or coma was going to take him from them before he was ready.

Of course there was the private fear, the one he didn’t want to share, that he didn’t want to hang on anyone else. The one he was afraid to say out loud.

It was the thought that maybe, after everything, that was exactly what he did want. That maybe this was an out and that maybe, he would take it. That maybe he didn’t want to be alive anymore.

But that was a possibility too horrible to accept. Maybe it was selfish, but Enzo knew that even if that was the case, he wasn’t ready. He doubted he ever would be, but he certainly wasn’t now. He knew both Gwyn and Owen would agree. No time was a good time to lose your child — step or otherwise — but now, after this — after everything — was not the time.

So he waited, and hoped.

Time seemed to blend together and before he knew it one day had become two, which had stretched into four. Each moment passed the same way — tensely, with no news.

He knew he had been distracted too — keeping his ringer on during class and checking in throughout his lectures and office hours. He had apologized to his classes after the second telemarketer had caused him to drop everything and lunge for his phone, citing a family emergency and word had slowly gotten around. Soon it wasn’t just him hoping for the best, but most of the Columbia history department as well. Their well wishes were touching, but nothing short of good news was going to make him feel any better.

So when his phone did finally ring on a Thursday afternoon, 5 days after the fateful call, he picked it up with trepidation. The name on the screen sent his heart racing and he nearly dropped his phone in his haste to answer it.

“Owen?” he asked tersely, “Any updates?”

Because since that night they hadn’t spoken. All updates had come in the form of texts and the thought of Owen finally having something to tell him one way or the other simultaneously thrilled him and nearly froze him with fear.

But it wasn’t Owen’s voice that answered.

“Hey Enzo,” TK said, the sound of his voice rushing through Enzo’s body like a current of electricity. He sank back into his seat with a wobbly laugh, feeling nearly a week's worth of tension fall away as he listened to the miraculous sound of TK breathing on the other end of the phone.

“Hey kid,” he said warmly. “You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he answered, “I really don’t feel too bad at all. A little sore, a little tired, but overall not bad.”

“I hear getting shot will do that to you,” Enzo retorted drily before sighing and running a weary hand down his face. “You scared the shit out of me, TK,” he admitted.

“Sorry,” TK replied softly, “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“It’s not your fault,” Enzo rushed to reassure him, “I know you didn’t ask for this to happen but...shit TK, I am not built for this. Do you think you could avoid getting shot in the future, for my sanity at the very least?”

“I’ll try,” TK responded with a chuckle, “I don’t remember most of it but I don’t think it’s anything I want to revisit.”

“No, I’d imagine not,” Enzo retorted wryly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts and taking comfort from the presence of the other even if it was only over a phone call from half a country away. “So,” he finally said, leaning into normal conversation for the sake of normalcy, “is your dad driving you nuts yet?”

“Yes,” TK responded emphatically, “he has been hovering non-stop, and he brought a date.”

Enzo could hear indignant sputtering in the background and Owen muttering something about him not bringing a date, that his date had simply come to visit him to see how he was doing and, maybe because of all the fear and stress of the past week, Enzo could only laugh.

“That sounds like your dad,” he retorted once he caught his breath, “and I wouldn’t count on that changing anytime soon.”

“She seemed cool at least,” TK allowed, voice teasing, “I don’t know why he was trying to keep her a secret.”

“Excuse you,” Owen’s voice objected from the background, “I am not the one who had a hot cop sitting by my bedside. You don’t get to talk about keeping secrets.”

“Dad,” TK groaned and Enzo’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh, so the mystery man is a cop,” he teased, “and the plot thickens.”

Now it was TK’s turn to splutter, “Nope, we are not doing this. That is more than enough from both of you,” he declared and Enzo could hear Owen chuckling at his son’s indignation from the background. It was a slice of normal that he had feared he’d never get again. To be sitting here hearing TK’s voice, teasing him about something so simple as the guy he had a crush on seemed like a miracle and Enzo was grateful for it.

Everything was normal again, at long last.

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

Sometimes he thinks that turning on news alerts for Austin was the worst decision he had ever made.

It seemed practical, at the time. An easy way to stay in the know, to have an idea of what kind of calls TK may have seen on any given day. But now he was frozen in the middle of the hallway after one of his classes staring at a notification about a solar storm that had blasted through Austin, leaving devastation in its wake; regretting every decision that led him to this point.

He knew TK was still on medical leave. He knew that he should be home and resting after only being released from the hospital two days before. But he also knew his stepson and knew that whenever there was trouble, TK was usually not too far behind.

It was with that thought in his mind that he stepped out out the middle of the hallway and leaned against the wall as he waited anxiously for the call to connect. The sound of a pleasant robotic voice informing him that his call could not be completed filled him with dread, but he forced himself to take a breath. It didn’t mean anything. The grid was likely overloaded right now; Enzo couldn’t say he knew for sure what kind of damage a solar storm could do but he was willing to guess that it wasn’t great for the electronic infrastructure.

Left with no other options he went on about his day, the familiar anxiety he had only recently shed slipping back over him like a worn winter coat. He tried calling a few more times, trying to ignore how the dread in his gut grew each and every time the call didn’t go through. He resisted the urge to ask one of his science colleagues to explain the specifics of a solar storm; reasoning that dealing with his own uncertainty would be far kinder than having confirmed facts. At least this way, he decided, he could tell himself he was overreacting.

It was far too many hours before his phone rang; an unfamiliar number appearing on his lock screen. He frowned at it but swiped to answer. He did list his cell number on all of his course syllabi, but for the most part his students stuck to his campus email, or — in desperate times — text.

“Dr. Cohen,” he answered, mentally placing bets as to whether it was actually a student or a robot trying to inform him about the extended warranty of the car he didn’t own.

To his immense relief, it was neither. Instead, a familiar voice answered, sending a rush of relief through him at the sound, “Hey, Enzo, it’s me.”

“TK,” he breathed, setting down the paper he had been reading and closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Are you okay?”

“More or less,” he answered sheepishly and Enzo was about to push for more than that when he caught the distinct sound of a hospital intercom in the background.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, are you in the hospital again?” he demanded and he heard a weary sigh from the other end before a quiet “yeah” was muttered.

“It’s not a big deal though,” TK rushed to explain, “I’m fine. I just pulled my stitches.”

There was another voice in the background that Enzo didn’t recognize and could barely hear, but what he could hear made it clear that the other voice was not impressed either.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” TK demanded, and Enzo was not entirely sure who he was speaking to, “Let her drown in a burning bus?”

“You just got out of the hospital!” Enzo objected when he could form words again, “What were you doing somewhere where there was a burning bus?!”

“We just went out for boba,” TK retorted, “I didn’t expect there to be a solar storm that caused a bus accident.”

And Enzo forced himself to take a deep breath because that was fair, he supposed. There was no way anyone could control anything like that. Still…

“The next time you move we’re going to need to do some research,” he declared. “Because if it is anywhere as chaotic as Austin, I’m going to have to object.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” TK assured him, “I think I’ll be in Austin for a while.”

There was a smile in his voice and Enzo somehow had the feeling he was intruding on something, even though TK had been the one to call him.

“What number are you calling me from?” he asked, testing his theory.

“I borrowed Carlos’s phone,” TK answered in a voice that said he knew what was coming and he hoped it would at least be quick.

“Oh,” Enzo replied, “and Carlos wouldn’t happen to be the name of a certain ‘hot cop’ your father mentioned, aka the mystery man I have been trying to get you to tell me about for months?”

“Yes.”

“And when you say ‘we’ were trying to get boba…”

“Enzo…”

“And he wouldn’t happen to be with you right now, would he?”

“Are you done?” TK demanded, and Enzo only laughed.

“Not nearly, kid; I’m just getting started.”

And despite TK’s muttering, Enzo could tell that he sounded happier than he had heard him sound in ages. He marveled at the fact that somehow, despite everything, TK had managed to find the happiness and peace he had hoped for him ever since he left New York all those months ago. Between the disasters he had managed to take his broken pieces and fit them back together, maybe even stronger than they had been before.

It was all he had ever wanted for him, and he was relieved beyond belief that he had found it.

“You know, this means I’m going to have to come down there soon,” he said instead, “I’ve got to meet this mystery man for myself.”

He could practically hear TK rolling his eyes, but his voice was impossibly warm when he assured him, “You’ll like him, Enzo.”

“Do you like him?” he asked.

“Yeah,” TK responded without a moment’s hesitation, “I do.”

“Then I already do,” he assured him.

If this Carlos had anything to do with the happiness he could finally hear returned to his stepson’s voice, he couldn’t do anything but.

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #my writing #tk strand #enzo #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #userbones #reyesstrand #reyeslonestartag #tuserpaige #tuserjamie #buckybarnesalways #laelipoo #I know for sure I usually tag more people but it's been so long I can't remember

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lambourngb · 3 years

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a skeleton of something more [2/6]

previously here. malex wip fic. a short serial leading up the premiere.

spoilers for the trailer and promo, will be instantly AU. If I’m going to the trouble of writing a malex fix-it for the season 3 opener, why not fix 2x13 too?

**** THEN ****

After Alex closed Tripp’s journal, he met Michael’s gaze across the table at the Crashdown.

His golden-brown eyes were heavy with pain, the reminder of how his mother’s story had ended was still fresh between them despite the span of months since the fiery end of Caulfield. What had resulted in being the fiery end of them, even though Alex hadn’t known it at the time. The look of sleeplessness in Michael’s face reminded Alex, that outside of this small piece of Nora, he had the weight of Maria still in the hospital recovering from the pathogen Flint had released. The press of the Deep Sky ring in his pocket warred with the hesitation to place one more burden on Michael, would the abacus of their fragile friendship balance out?

He flashed to that last argument in Michael’s bunker, a disaster of his own making, thinking he could believe in his father, but thankfully harm was averted at Crashcon. That recent memory was motive enough for Alex to decide. Whatever happened next, he needed Michael on the same page with him.

As Isobel moved to leave the table, explaining to Michael that she needed to check on Max, Alex held Michael’s gaze deliberately. Then he folded his fingers down, until the last three fanned out in a downward W.

“After what happened with Maria, maybe you should come with me, Michael. You can help me shake some sense into Max,” Alex heard, tuning back into Isobel’s voice. Her eyes moved back and forth between them, a crease of suspicion wrinkling her upturned nose, as she stopped on him. “It’ll be a good distraction.”

Without looking at Isobel, Michael’s eyes remained trained on Alex’s hand. “No, thanks, I’m good here. I’ve had my fill of stubborn ass people who don’t want to listen to sensible advice from me, so I’ll catch up with you later, Isobel.”

She made a dismissive huff but did not argue, leaving with the barest semblance of a polite goodbye to Alex, but that was typical Isobel Evans. Michael waited until his sister was on the other side of the door, before speaking quietly, his gaze finally moving up from Alex’s hands to his face. “I haven’t seen you flash that sign to me in years.”

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten it.”

“You, making the ‘wait for me, I want you now’ signal? Nah, that’s been burned into my brain over the years.” Michael said it with a faint trace of bitterness. “I guess news travels fast, Maria only dumped my ass this morning.”

Alex winced and looked down, swallowing the surprise and spark of hope that welled in his throat at that disclosure. It was better to concentrate on the unique talent he had of stepping on landmines around Michael, than wonder about what had happened with Maria. It looked like he was still good at causing harm without intention, judging by the stung bite in Michael’s voice. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have-”

“No, I’m sorry,” Michael cut off his apology firmly with a wave of his hand, calling a time-out. Alex waited, his teeth pressed into his lower lip as Michael rubbed his eyes with a weary half-smile. “I’m being an asshole right now, and that’s not fair to take it out on you. It’s been a shitty day already, and — anyway, … you definitely know how to get my attention, Alex.” He tilted his head, self-deprecation on his face, “for better or worse, you’ve always been good at that.”

It had been the sign they had developed whenever their paths had crossed over the years while Alex had been on leave in Roswell, but it had started that summer after high school. After Michael’s hand had healed poorly from Jesse, the last three fingers had been left frozen in a claw, it had been a shared fuck-you to his dad to use it to form their own secret communication. A three-fingered W, turned upward meant it wasn’t a good time, and he would find Michael later; turned downward, well, that meant it was safe to approach him, and it had often ended in a hurried blowjob in his car. Perhaps he should have used more care in using it now, but Michael wasn’t the only one running on the fumes of insomnia and stress. “Sorry, I needed to talk to you, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t leave with Isobel-”

“It’s fine, really. It’s not a bad memory either, remembering that we had our little secret language.” Michael wiggled his fingers in reassurance, his left hand still wrapped with a bandanna. “I can make that signal a hell of a lot easier now, too. But anyway, what did you need?”

There was still a voice inside Alex’s head that said ‘you’, no matter how long it had been. He shoved that down deep, along with his curiosity about Maria, and concentrated on his purpose. “Your advice on something, and then if it’s not too much to ask, your help.”

“Anything.”

Alex blinked, nonplussed by the easy acceptance.

Michael gestured encouragingly, “seriously, anything, just tell me what’s going on because the way you’re hemming and hawing, it is freaking me out.” Suddenly, all expression washed out of Michael’s face as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Did you get deployed or something?”

“Not exactly, not how you’re thinking,” he winced at the earned glare from Michael as he continued to stall while the words still tripped and fumbled around his mouth, heedless to the mounting frustration between them both. He sighed, and regrouped. Pushing the closed journal aside, Alex dug into his pocket and laid the signet ring on the table before Michael. “Let me start at the beginning, I found this in my dad’s things.”

“Jesse never seemed like a jewelry kind of guy to me.” Michael picked up the ring, examining it closely with a sarcastic smirk. “Other than parading around town with that wedding ring, when everyone knows your mom left him back during the Bush years, Dubya that is.”

“My father is all, was all, about appearances.” Alex placed the photo of the group on the table, sliding it over to him. “That ring marked his membership in this paramilitary group called Deep Sky. Every man in that photo worked at Caulfield, at one time or another.” He tapped his finger over the face of his father, then moved it to the right. “That’s my dad, and that is Ricky Long.”

Michael frowned, pulling the picture closer to squint at the faces. “Wyatt’s dad?”

“No, Forrest’s.”

“Nazi guy? Seriously?” He rubbed at his chin, the stubble longer than usual painting his jawline. Alex dragged his eyes away with effort as Michael considered that information. There was a reluctant understanding in his eyes, having recalled that Forrest Long wasn’t just ‘Nazi Guy’ to Alex, but someone who had expressed interest in Alex. Personal interest. “I guess that’s something you guys have in common then, dirtbag dads.”

He didn’t look thrilled to admit that to Alex, but it was a mark of how far they had both come as friends that Michael had said it anyway regardless. It was kind of him. It was the same type of empathy Alex had extended toward Michael, when he had expressed interest in Maria. Cut open, bleeding under his skin from all the ways he had squandered his own chances, he had said something similar to Michael once upon a time. That was what love was all about. Then he had kept saying it, until he believed it most days because wanting Michael to be happy was the easier ask.

It was a gracious sentiment that was entirely wasted by Michael when it came to Forrest Long.

“It would be, uh, something to bond over, if I hadn’t noticed that Forrest wears the same ring now.”

Michael’s eyes sharpened. “Family heirloom or do you think he worked at Caulfield?”

“I don’t know, but he is an ex-Army vet.” Alex tapped the photo of the members gathered together, “That was part of what I’ve been looking into, identifying everyone who worked at Caulfield right until the end. As for Deep Sky, I don’t know if it’s military service, Caulfield, or a family legacy that ties every member together, I just know that Dad kept in touch with those who were involved at the prison.”

“Makes sense, Jesse was able to get a hold of the atomizer and pathogen that Charlie developed from somewhere. For all of his strutting around at Crashcon with a uniform on, that didn’t look like it was an official use of government property.”

“Right, it definitely wasn’t, and before you tell me to leave it alone-” Alex began, remembering Michael’s response to the investigation into 1947. He had considered Alex’s actions back then to be an act of futility, something that could only hurt by being revisited. The past being the past, unable to be altered.

This time Michael cut him off, “No, I was wrong about that. I, um, I finally realized that just because I don’t see you connected to that place or the rest of your family, doesn’t mean you don’t. And while I wish that you didn’t, Alex, if digging into this gives you some sort of peace over it, then do it.”

Alex looked down, feeling the weight of relief that Michael understood. After his father’s body had been removed, after the questions and lies had been spun, he had spent the entire night sleepless over having been made into an effective weapon to force Michael’s compliance. Helena had known where all the weak spots were thanks to Flint, and had armed herself with a depowering agent. Once Flint was recovered, there was nothing stopping him from employing a similar tactic in the future.

“If anyone’s going to destroy me, it might as well be you.” Michael had once declared with a bold carelessness that had infuriated and terrified Alex at the time, but that was nothing compared to now having a lived experience to back it up. His mind had easily used the memory of Maria’s collapse after the faintest exposure at the Crashcon and had exchanged her with Michael, being torn apart molecule by molecule, by an invisible threat.

Give him an enemy that he could see any day, especially one that bled.

“I’ve been fighting so long, I don’t know what peace looks like anymore.” Alex held out his hand for the ring, and Michael gently laid it in his palm, brushing his fingertips over Alex’s skin. A lifetime of controlling himself kept the reaction off his face as he rubbed his thumb over the raised emblem of Deep Sky. “But I have learned recently that when something seems too good to be true, it is.”

Neither of them mentioned Jesse and his performance from the last few months, but Michael frowned again, “Wait a second, you think Forrest targeted you on purpose?”

“A member of a secret paramilitary organization just happens to ask me out after I was involved in the destruction of Caulfield? You really think that’s a coincidence?” Alex raised his eyebrow skeptically at Michael, before looking out the window to watch the pedestrians on the street.

“I think you’re the hottest guy in Roswell, so I’m not surprised he asked you out.” Michael flushed a little when Alex turned back to stare at him in surprise over the flattering comment. “Seriously, you’re a catch, but I will agree, it’s not a good look that he’s got that ring. But maybe it’s crap he wears because of his dad, and he’s got no idea he’s parading around?”

“You’re being awfully generous.”

“Isn’t that what you want? Because last time I checked, you were the one telling me that I should have faith in people, even if they give me no reason to.” Michael flattened his hands on the table, drawing Alex’s attention to the bandanna on his hand again. That damn fight kept echoing between them to Alex’s dismay, but Michael didn’t let him linger over it, “While I stand by what I said about Jesse, ‘cause he messes us both up, all I know about Forrest Long is that he is way too interested in Nazi history and he has good taste in guys.” Michael wetted his lips, nervously to tack on, “I also know that I trust you, and your instincts, so if you say there’s something not right about him, then I believe you.”

“There’s something not right about him,” Alex repeated seriously.

“Then I believe you, so what do you need me to do?”

“He wants to get close to me for some reason, probably related to what I know about aliens, so I’m going to let him. And I need you to back me up in case something goes wrong, and maybe use that lock pick you have in your brain?” Alex waited until Michael nodded in agreement, feeling the swell of gratitude at his support. Anyone else would probably think he was being paranoid, or that this was a delayed reaction to his father trying to kill them, but Michael, for all of his previous counter-arguments, had never truly believed in the good of humanity. Maybe in a few days, Alex would feel guilty in relying on that. Maybe in a few days, his suspicions about Forrest would be eliminated.

“He’s involved in running the open mike night at the Wild Pony with Maria, so I thought maybe I could perform a song or something? He drives a Prius, and while he’s listening to me sing, you could slip out mid-song and insert this into the code reader of his car.”

On the table was a small device that mimicked a thumb drive, small and black. It was the type of technology that Alex had used in the Air Force, tracking terrorists abroad. It had taken a fair amount of searching to purchase the equivalent stateside to have on hand. Michael picked it up curiously, turning over his hands.

“It’s designed to download the GPS history of his car,” Alex explained, before rubbing the back of his head in thought. “That’s how I uncovered what my dad was up to, first by tracking his movements. If I let Forrest take me home, I can gain access to his laptop and phone.”

Michael furrowed his brow in concern, “You’re really willing to go that far? And what if he is involved in something shady, what then?”

“My father and brother both used me to get to you, there’s really nothing I wouldn’t do to keep that from happening again and if it means playing along with this guy, letting him lead me to the members of Deep Sky? Then I will.” If anything, his words only deepened the concern on Michael’s face, but Alex had been committed for a long time. Since the red level threat. Since the short ride to the recruitment office. Maybe as far back as his guitar going missing in the music room.

“I’ve slept with guys for worse reasons.”

CONTINUED HERE

#Malex #roswell new mexico #malex fic #alex goes undercover #not forrest long friendly #getting back together #Season 3 speculation

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kjack89 · 3 years

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An Agreement Between Gentlemen (Chapter 9/14)

Continuation of the E/R Bridgerton AU, regency-era fake-marriage fic. I feel confident enough in the remainder of my outline to finally put the end chapter number up top, though of course, it’s subject to change because I’m, you know, me. (Chapter 1 tumblr | AO3, chapter 2 tumblr | AO3, chapter 3 tumblr | AO3, chapter 4 tumblr | AO3, chapter 5 tumblr | AO3, chapter 6 tumblr | AO3, chapter 7 tumblr | AO3, chapter 8 tumblr | AO3)

Rarely has this Author been so inundated with the same piece of news, and so while most readers likely already know this, it must still be reported for those apparently unaware or living under a rock: the Marquess of Enjolras has made his triumphant return to the city.

But those hoping to catch a glimpse of the new Marchioness will find themselves disappointed: the Marchioness has returned to her family home, having apparently fallen ill while on her honeymoon. Still, there is plenty of time left in the season for her to make an appearance, so all hope is not lost.

And while she has not yet taken her place in the Enjolras manor, this Author has learned that her brother has been invited to stay with the Marquess, a move that gives no credence to the rumors that the two have fallen out ahead of the Marquess’s marriage to Mr. Grantaire’s sister. Indeed, if anything, the pair’s unlikely friendship seems only stronger now, which only proves that the marriage mart truly does make strange bedfellows.

Far more important than their living situation, of course, is the annual de Courfeyrac ball this very evening. With the Marquess back in town, he is certain to attend, and this Author is equally certain that even without his new bride to accompany him, all eyes will surely be on the one bachelor who got away…LADY WHISTELDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS, 14 MAY 1831

“Stop fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting,” Enjolras grumbled, though he reluctantly stopped playing with the cuff of his shirtsleeves.

Grantaire rolled his eyes as the receiving line at the de Courfeyrac Ball inched forward. “You are so,” he said in an undertone. “And leave your damned cravat alone, it took me near a quarter hour to get it to lay right.”

Enjolras had barely even starting to reach up to adjust his cravat, and his hand fell back to his side as he gave Grantaire a look. “Yes, but only because you were the one who untied it in the first place.”

As Grantaire had indeed been the one who had untied it, in the carriage ride over to the de Courfeyrac manor, mostly to give himself better access to Enjolras’s neck, his self-satisfied grin was somewhat to be expected. “Yes, well, can you really blame me?” he murmured, eyeing Enjolras appreciatively. “I know you hate formal dress, but by God, man, you were made to wear an evening coat.”

Enjolras could not help but preen at that, just a little, even as he warned Grantaire teasingly, “Keep looking at me like that and our cover will be blown sooner than you think.”

Grantaire just laughed lightly. “Please,” he said dismissively. “I’ve been looking at you like this for ten years now with none the wiser.” He paused and considered it. “Or at least, with none willing to comment on it, and I doubt very much that would change now.”

But Enjolras was still focused on the first part of what Grantaire had said. “You’ve really been looking at me like this for a decade?”

Grantaire smirked. “Again, can you blame me?”

Enjolras hesitated, wondering for not the first time what it had been like for Grantaire, to love him as he had for as long as he had, and with Enjolras among those none the wiser. “Does it bother you that I never noticed?”

“I think it would have bothered me more if you had,” Grantaire said, sounding a little surprised by the question. “I wasn’t ready for you to know before.”

“And now?”

Grantaire shrugged, a little helplessly. “Well, that cat’s quite out of the bag regardless, isn’t it?” he asked, before his voice softened, just slightly. “Besides, no matter how prepared I was, it was worth it in the end.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “Keep talking like that and I might be tempted to do something untowards,” he murmured, bending his head toward Grantaire.

“Scandalous,” Grantaire said, with a wicked smirk. “Besides, keep talking like that and I might just let you.”

Enjolras let out a laugh, but his amusement did not last long. As the line barely moved, he could not help but bounce on the balls of his feet, trying to glance over the top of the receiving line. “I wish Courf would just let us go in with having to go through the whole thing,” he muttered.

“Yes, I too wish my friends would allow me to break all social protocol just because I dread having to sit through it,” Grantaire said wryly. “But alas, seeing as how we live in the real world…”

He trailed off as the line started moving again, and finally, with only a few more minutes’ delay, Enjolras and Grantaire were at the front of the receiving line. “Enjolras!” Courfeyrac called, sounding elated, and he grasped Enjolras by both shoulders before leaning in and kissing both his cheeks. “And Grantaire!” To Enjolras’s surprise, he embraced Grantaire in much the same way – and judging by Grantaire’s wide eyes, he was equally surprised.

“Christ, Courfeyrac, have you been borrowing Jehan’s opium?” Grantaire muttered when Courfeyrac finally released him.

Courfeyrac ignored him, just beaming at both of them. “From brothers in arms to brothers in law!” he trilled, clapping his hands together. “What an unexpected twist to this tale. Enjolras, you must find me later and fill me in on the details.”

Enjolras tried to smile, though he was pretty sure it looked more like a wince. “I am certain you would track me down if I didn’t.”

Courfeyrac laughed loudly and waved them through. For as long as he had waited to finally get inside, Enjolras found himself hesitating at the ballroom entrance, dreading what welcome awaited him within in the wake of his ‘scandal’ and marriage.

As if sensing exactly what he was feeling, Grantaire found his hand and covertly squeezed it, his own hand warm and strong in Enjolras’s. “Be easy,” he whispered in Enjolras’s ear, and for the first time all evening, Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

Of course, he tensed once again when they finally entered the ballroom, and the first person Enjolras saw across the way was Combeferre. He reached out blindly for Grantaire’s arm, gripping his elbow harder than he likely needed to.

This was always going to be the hardest part of their charade, as Enjolras had confided in Grantaire the previous night as they lay together in his bed, neither one tired enough yet to fall asleep. “I don’t know what to tell Combeferre and Courfeyrac,” he had confessed, turning so that he was facing Grantaire.

“What were you planning on telling them before?” Grantaire had asked, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Before what?” Enjolras had asked.

Grantaire had given him a look. “Before, when it was just a straightforward fictional marriage,” he said dryly.

“Oh.” Enjolras flushed slightly. “Frankly, I hadn’t given it much thought. I was certainly going to allude to the arrangement solving certain matters with my mother, and let them draw their own conclusions.”

“And that same answer will no longer suffice?”

Enjolras had drawn Grantaire close to kiss him lightly. “Frankly, I suspect my interactions with you will undermine the credibility of that explanation. Combeferre and Courfeyrac are not stupid, and decidedly more observant than myself.”

Grantaire’s expression softened. “Then we need not interact in front of them,” he had said quietly. “I am overdue in seeing Joly and Bossuet, and it is not as if any of our friends expects me to be at your side all evening. Or at all, frankly.”

While Enjolras had agreed at the time, now, faced with the reality of the situation, he wanted nothing more than Grantaire to stay at his side. But Grantaire was already pulling away, even as the look he gave Enjolras was gentle, and understanding. “They’re your friends,” he reminded Enjolras in an undertone.

“They’re your friends as well,” Enjolras muttered. “And they will likely forgive neither of us for the deception.”

“Forgive? Perhaps not, or at least not immediately. But they will understand.”

“Will they?” Enjolras asked, more rhetorical than anything, and mostly because Grantaire had already abandoned him, making a beeline to where Joly and Bossuet were talking quietly together in the corner.

With no excuse left, Enjolras crossed to where Combeferre waited, feeling more nervous than he frankly expected to be. Combeferre’s expression was completely neutral as he approached, which did not help Enjolras’s nerves. “Hello,” Combeferre said when Enjolras finally reached him. “Long time no see. Anything new with you?”

Enjolras laughed lightly. Combeferre’s dry humor had never before failed to put him at ease, and this was no exception. “Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” he said airily before adding, in a more serious tone, “I certainly doubt either you or I were expecting the events of the past few weeks.”

“After the scene your mother made at the Musain?” Combeferre returned with an arched eyebrow. “I expected you married within the fortnight. Grantaire’s sister was a twist I did not see coming.”

Enjolras shrugged, avoiding meeting Combeferre’s eyes. “Yes, well. A twist, but perhaps not as unpleasant a one as some would expect.”

Combeferre nodded slowly, looking at him closely. “Whatever anyone may say, you seem happy,” he remarked.

“Well, I am rid of my mother,” Enjolras said. “Or will be, once I hand over the dowry.”

Combeferre’s expression didn’t change as he took a sip of his drink. “I didn’t say you seemed relieved. I said you seem happy.”

As usual, Combeferre saw right through him, and Enjolras took a moment to compose his answer, opting for as much of the truth as he could give. “I suppose I am happy,” he said. “It’s...freeing, in a way, to know that part of my future is settled.”

“To be free,” Combeferre murmured. “What greater thing is there.”

Enjolras smiled. “Precisely.”

Combeferre nodded slowly. “Well, if you are happy, then I am happy,” he assured Enjolras, before adding, in a slightly disapproving tone, “Of course, Grantaire’s going to be a bit insufferable for awhile, I suppose.”

Enjolras felt his heart stop. Had Combeferre figured them out so quickly? “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Combeferre raised an eyebrow. “Surely you realize – you’ve rather elevated his status.”

“In what way?”

“By marrying his sister, he is now brother-in-law to a marquess,” Combeferre said slowly, and Enjolras felt immediate relief that he had not figured him out. “Which may very well make him the most eligible bachelor here. A fact I’m certain he’s realized, even if you haven’t.”

He nodded towards the corner that Grantaire had headed to, but where previously he’d been in conversation with Joly and Bossuet, now they seemed surrounded by numerous young women. Enjolras’s initial relief was replaced by a pit in his stomach as he watched one such lady laugh, touching Grantaire’s arm in a way that made Enjolras’s vision go red.

Combeferre, as he always seemed to be, was correct. Before, Grantaire had been notorious as a rake whose sole redeeming quality was association with many powerful peers and gentry. But now, while he may still offer no title, he offered societal status that far too many mothers would crave for their daughters.

And even though Grantaire seemed quite convinced of his affection for Enjolras, there was little doubt that this could change things. After all, while Enjolras would get no enjoyment from marriage to any woman in the entire city, Grantaire very well might.

He was so busy watching Grantaire flirt (or at least, not automatically brush the young women off, which was tantamount to the same thing in Enjolras’s mind) that he barely noticed when Combeferre was pulled into a different conversation entirely, leaving him standing alone. It ended up for the best, though, as he then had no need to make an excuse for crossing the ballroom, making a beeline for Grantaire.

But he was intercepted on his way by Éponine Thenárdier, who blocked his path entirely. “Lord Enjolras,” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

Enjolras jerked a nod. “Miss Thenárdier,” he muttered, trying in vain to sidestep her, but she moved swiftly to again block his path.

“You must allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials,” she told him, her tone saccharine. “I wish you nothing but happiness, no matter how surprising the event was.”

Internally, Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing damn well that she was trying to goad him into sharing details that would almost invariably make their way into Lady Whistledown the moment he spoke them. Externally, he forced a smile that almost certainly looked more like a grimace. “I’m not certain there’s much of a causal link between surprise and happiness, but thank you nonetheless.”

Éponine laughed lightly. “But where is your lovely bride this evening?”

She almost certainly already knew the answer, having undoubtedly read about it like everyone else had in Lady Whistledown, but Enjolras nonetheless gritted his teeth and told her, “I’m afraid she is ill, and staying at her family home in the country until she recovers.”

“Oh, how dreadful,” she said, though Enjolras noted she didn’t sound particularly upset by the news. “And we were all so eager to meet her.”

“I’m sure you were,” Enjolras muttered, before Grantaire appeared without warning at his side.

“Isn’t it a lovely ball?” he asked, so brightly that Enjolras wondered for a moment if he had been hit in the head – or been hitting the whiskey already. “It is as if someone has unhooked the stars and put them on the table in the guise of candles, don’t you think?”

Éponine’s smile slipped, for just a moment. “Indeed,” she murmured politely, but the look she gave Grantaire was icy as she swept away, clearly put out at having her attempted interrogation so rudely interrupted.

Grantaire smirked as he watched her leave, resting his hand on Enjolras’s back, a little too low to be entirely proper. “The trick,” he murmured in Enjolras’s ear, “is to be so banal that absolutely no one wishes to continue the conversation.”

Despite himself and the jealousy he could still feel, Enjolras was unable to stop his smile. “Is that your secret?” he asked in an undertone.

“My secret is usually to get drunk as quickly as possible and then disappear without saying goodbye,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “But as I am in polite company—” He nodded his head graciously at Enjolras, who rolled his eyes affectionately. “—we must make do together.”

And indeed they did. Enjolras was shocked to find that Grantaire’s trick of not providing any details about his fictional wife and instead speaking of the decor, or the weather, or something equally boring was enough to forestall almost all conversation that followed. It helped, he realized, as he and Grantaire made the rounds together, that far fewer young women and their mothers attempted to monopolize his time or beg him for a dance, almost certainly because they had set their sights on more available targets, and the ones that did want to make conversation were after gossip, like Éponine, and easily thwarted.

But neither was what really made the evening bearable; instead, it was Grantaire who proved the difference in the evening.. Grantaire, always quick with a quip or scathing observation under his breath, who stayed by his side despite the invitations to dance that he received. Grantaire, who knew without Enjolras needing to say a word when they needed to stop for refreshments or be pulled away from the conversation. Grantaire, who was as easy a companion as Enjolras had ever had.

And Grantaire who was, according to Combeferre at least, now the most eligible bachelor in the place.

As much as Grantaire was turning this most dreaded part of his social obligations into, perhaps not the most anticipated, but at least something that could be enjoyed rather than merely endured, Enjolras could not shake what Combeferre had said, or the pit that formed in his stomach when he thought about it.

“Is everything alright?” Grantaire asked an hour or so later, his brow furrowed as he looked at Enjolras.

“Fine,” Enjolras said quickly, giving him a tight smile. “Just a bit warm in here, do you not think?”

Grantaire studied him closely for a moment. “Perhaps we should step out onto the balcony,” he suggested. “Get some air.”

“That sounds like a good—”

“There you are!” Courfeyrac exclaimed with his usual exuberance as he joined them, oblivious to how close Enjolras had been to escaping. “As promised, since you did not come find me later as requested, I have instead hunted you down. And Grantaire is still at your side, how lovely.”

“Not for long,” Grantaire said, ignoring the pleading look Enjolras shot him. “I’m due for a refill. Anything for either of you?”

He did not wait for a reply, leaving Enjolras alone with Courfeyrac, whose smile had sharpened. “Come now, you can afford to look a little less panicked,” he said innocently, looping his arm through Enjolras’s. “After all, people will think you don’t wish to speak to one of your oldest friends.”

“Speak with, or be interrogated by?” Enjolras muttered.

Courfeyrac’s grin widened. “Potato, po-tah-to.” He patted Enjolras’s arm reassuringly. “But truly, more the former than the latter. Too many prying ears, and I’d rather learn the details of your scandal where they can’t be transmitted to the inimitable Lady Whistledown.”

Enjolras snorted. “Yes, that would be a shame,” he said dryly.

But something in his tone made Courfeyrac pause, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “I was hardly anticipating you being the model of wedded bliss, but you seem far too downtrodden for someone who must no longer put up with the marriage mart. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras said, by instinct alone, and when Courfeyrac just looked at him, he sighed and relented. “Just something Combeferre said.”

He was expecting Courfeyrac to demand details, details that Enjolras would not be able to share without revealing the truth, but to his surprise, Courfeyrac just rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, ignore him,” he said. “He’s just jealous.”

Enjolras frowned. “Jealous?” he repeated. “Of what?”.

Courfeyrac looked at him as if the answer was obvious. “He thinks he’s been replaced, you fool,” he said impatiently, and when Enjolras still looked confused, added, “As your best friend. By Grantaire.”

The statement was so absurd that Enjolras barked a laugh before realizing Courfeyrac was entirely serious. “Really?” he asked derisively. “Forgive me, I did not realize we were still in the nursery.”

Courfeyrac just shrugged. “Perhaps not, but you cannot deny that he used to be your partner in crime when it came to your schemes.” He gave Enjolras an appraising look. “And whatever else you may say, you and I, I think, can acknowledge that this is a scheme of some variety, though of which, I could not say.”

Enjolras felt stricken at the realization of how Combeferre had interpreted his involvement with Grantaire, which, of course, couldn’t be further from the truth. “I never thought—”

Courfeyrac patted his arm. “Of course you didn’t.”

Enjolras sighed and tugged his arm out of Courfeyrac’s grip. “Still, I should go apologize.”

“You should do no such thing,” Courfeyrac said firmly, turning to face him head on. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but even if you had, actions speak louder than words. Spend some time planning with him before the next Les Amis gathering, and all will be forgiven.”

“But not forgotten.”

Courfeyrac just looked amused. “My dear fellow, none of us, I think, will be able to forget the moment when you and Grantaire finally stopped trying to kill each other using just your words.” His expression softened. “And believe me, no matter what Combeferre may say, we’re all quite grateful that you have.” His eyebrows raised. “Speaking of Grantaire, I believe he wants a word.”

He nodded over Enjolras’s shoulder, and Enjolras turned to find Grantaire, holding two glasses of champagne and gesturing with his head toward the door that led out to the balcony. Enjolras nodded his understanding, and turned back to Courfeyrac, who had already disappeared into the crowd.

Enjolras crossed to the balcony door as quickly as possible to avoid being waylaid once more, and this time, he was successful. Never had he been so relieved to find himself alone and out of doors, even if the night was unseasonably cold. Grantaire laughed lightly from where he was leaning against the balcony railing. “You look like you need this more than I do,” he said, offering Enjolras one of the glasses of champagne.

Enjolras took it gratefully and drained it in one long gulp. “I did need that,” he told Grantaire, setting the empty glass down on the flat top of the wide marble balustrade. “I suppose I did not fully appreciate how complicated this all was going to be on my return.”

Grantaire eyed him carefully, his expression unreadable. “Curious,” he said lightly. “You normally think through every detail before you take any action.”

Enjolras shrugged. “Desperation apparently made me less thorough,” he said. “And, of course, there were unanticipated complications along the way that I did not account for.”

Grantaire let out a light, humorless laugh. “Am I to assume that I am one of those complications?”

“Yes,” Enjolras said, not seeing any point in sugarcoating the truth. “Though a mostly welcome complication.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Who would have thought the word ‘mostly’ could feel like a dagger being driven into me,” he murmured, though he also hastened to add, “I jest, I jest.”

Enjolras traced a finger along the line of the balustrade. “I did not intend to hurt you by saying it,” he said heavily. “Only I think we need to be honest with one another.”

Grantaire searched his expression for a long moment. “I have been entirely honest with you,” he said carefully. “So if there is anyone with something to hide…”

He trailed off, looking at Enjolras expectantly. “Not to hide,” Enjolras hedged. “But one of the complications I did not anticipate has revealed itself this evening, and that is related to your social standing.”

Grantaire blinked. “My— what?”

“Combeferre pointed out that by me marrying your sister, your status has risen to one of the most eligible bachelors,” Enjolras explained. “And that knowledge complicates things.”

“How so?” Grantaire asked, his brow furrowed.

Enjolras shrugged, avoiding Grantaire’s eyes. “You have...options now, I suppose,” he muttered. “Real options, for a real marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “Options that I would not discourage you from exploring.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, turning to stare out at the sprawling grounds that surrounded the manner. After a long moment, he asked softly, “Am I being thrown over, then?”

“What?” Enjolras asked, confused.

“Is this your rather inelegant attempt to be rid of me?” Grantaire asked, his voice brittle. “Trying to soften the blow by intimating that I now have ‘options’?”

Enjolras stared blankly at him. “Of course not,” he spluttered. “That’s not at all what—”

“Then tell me,” Grantaire interrupted, “when I told you, multiple times now, that I love you, did you think I was speaking falsely?”

Enjolras scowled. “Not at all, but you did not know all the facts then!”

“And what facts could possibly matter in this regard?”

“The fact that you have a real chance to make a marriage match that would improve your standing and your family’s standing!” Enjolras snapped, though he wasn’t quite sure why he was angry, and especially at Grantaire. “You could secure a future for your lineage that any man would be envious of. It’s why most men put themselves through these torturous affairs.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “Most men, but not you, and certainly not me,” he said quietly.

Something in his tone caused Enjolras to deflate, but it also allowed him to realize why he was so angry, or more accurately, at whom he was so angry: himself. He had dragged Grantaire down this path, and this was perhaps the last real opportunity that either had to part ways before irreparable damage was done. “Think of what you are saying,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “I cannot offer you anything, not my name, not my title, not even the promise of the future if we are discovered. You deserve so much more than that.”

Grantaire shook his head again, but slower this time, and with a crooked sort of smile. “You can offer me the only thing I have ever wanted: you,” he said simply. “There is no one on Earth who can offer me more than that.” Enjolras shook his head, ready to interrupt, but Grantaire did not let him. “Do not seek to dismiss my words, when I mean every one of them. There is no happiness that I would find now with any other, not now that I know what true happiness is. Not now when I know what true love is.”

The breath caught in Enjolras’s throat, and for a moment, he could not speak. If he had been waiting for the perfect moment to finally tell Grantaire that he loved him, he knew he would never find one better than this. The music from the waltz taking place inside the ballroom swelled, and Enjolras leaned in toward Grantaire, reaching out to lightly cover Grantaire’s hand resting on the railing with his own. “Grantaire,” he started, his voice soft, “I—”

But before he could get the two most important words out, the doors to the balcony banged open, and Enjolras and Grantaire instinctively moved apart as two giggling couples spilled out of the ballroom.

The moment was thoroughly ruined, which perhaps explained the face Grantaire made as he turned back to Enjolras. “Shall we consider this our sign to adjourn for the evening?”

“Yes please,” Enjolras said with a sigh of relief.

His relief was short-lived, however, as a current of tension resonated between them as they made their way back through the ballroom and then waited out front until his carriage pulled around. As soon as they were inside and en route back to his place, Enjolras cleared his throat. “Shall we continue our conversation?”

Grantaire sighed. “I did not realize there was more to say.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “There is always more to say.”

“That should really be your family motto,” Grantaire muttered. “Plus semper est dicere.”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate translation,” Enjolras said mildly. “Though at least it’d probably be more appropriate than my actual family motto, Nox finiet.”

“Perhaps I’ll have Marius figure out the correct translation, then, and we can have it engraved on our stationary.”

Ordinarily, Enjolras probably would have laughed, but now, Grantaire’s attempt at glib just fell flat. “Grantaire—”

Grantaire ignored him. “After all, my family is too new amongst the gentry to have a motto of our own. Of course, if I ever got to pick a family motto, I’d probably choose Fidelitas usque ad mortem.”

His words were pointed, and Enjolras swallowed, hard. “Faithful until death.”

Grantaire met his gaze steadily. “And I aim to be.”

“I do not doubt that you will be,” Enjolras said quietly. “I only wish that you would consider what your loyalty will cost you.”

Grantaire reached out and took his hand. “Even if it costs me everything in this life and the next, it will be more than worth it.” He raised Enjolras’s hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “If you will have me, at least.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand, but before he could respond, the carriage jolted to a stop, and he glanced outside. “We’re home already?” he asked, somewhat surprised.

Grantaire just chuckled lightly. “One day we’ll figure out our timing,” he said before stepping out of the carriage and turning to help Enjolras down.

But Enjolras was not so willing to surrender the moment this time. As soon as his driver had left, he grabbed Grantaire’s hand, pulling him away from the lamplight at the door. “Before we go in, there’s something that I wished to say.”

“Something so secret you dare not speak it in earshot of your servants?” Grantaire asked, amused.

“Be serious,” Enjolras said with a frown.

Grantaire just smiled at him, his eyes sparkling even in the dim light. “I am wild.”

“Grantaire…”

“Fine, fine,” Grantaire said, chuckling. “What is it you wished to say?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Only that our time together has meant more to me than I ever thought it could. Not just our time up north, when it was just the two of us. But our time tonight as well. “

“Even when we were quarreling?” Grantaire asked.

“Especially when we were quarreling,” Enjolras said firmly. “Because our quarrel came from us wanting the best for each other.” He took both of Grantaire’s hands in his. “I do not know what the future holds, but I know that I want you in it, options be damned. Besides, with you at my side, I’m beginning to think anything is possible.”

Grantaire was quiet for a long moment before he leaned in and kissed Enjolras gently. “I may not share your belief in possibility, but I too have valued our time together,” he said softly. “It is everything I always dreamt it would be, and so much more.”

Enjolras laughed breathily. “You dismiss my belief in possibility, only to speak of dreams?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Possibility speaks to hope,” he said with a shrug. “I never hoped my dreams would come true, though I am gladder than words can say that they have. That they are.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hands. “And who knows, you may make a believer out of me yet.”

This was Enjolras’s moment, and he took a deep breath, ready to finally say those three words he knew Grantaire wanted to hear more than anything else. “Grantaire, I—”

“Lord Enjolras?”

Enjolras could not stop the groan that escaped from his lips as he let go of Grantaire’s hands at the sound of his butler’s voice. “What is it, Porter?” he asked tiredly, taking a step towards the now-open door.

Porter cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon for the interruption,” he said, “but we’ve received word from the Marchioness.” Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged startled glances, and Porter corrected himself. “Beg pardon, the Dowager Marchioness. Your mother.”

Enjolras felt the blood drain from his face. “Christ,” he muttered. “What does she want?”

“She is planning on visiting tomorrow morning,” Porter said, glancing at Grantaire before looking back at Enjolras. “And I thought you would want to know immediately so that, ah, arrangements can be made.”

Not for the first time, Enjolras wondered how much Porter had surmised of what was going on between himself and Grantaire, and decided quickly that he cared less than making sure his mother knew absolutely nothing. “You were correct, Porter, thank you,” he said, and Porter nodded before closing the door again.

Enjolras sighed and looked back at Grantaire, but before he could say anything, Grantaire cleared his throat. “I should spend the night at mine tonight,” he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “The last thing you need is to start your conversation with your mother with an explanation for our unusual living arrangement.”

“I know that you’re almost certainly right, but I wish to God you weren’t,” Enjolras said, reaching out to draw Grantaire close. “I need you on my side against her.”

Grantaire just laughed and tilted his head up to kiss Enjolras, a quick, fleeting kiss. “You will be fine,” he said with far more confidence than Enjolras felt. “I promise that I will be back tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, but before or after my mother leaves?” Enjolras muttered mutinously.

Grantaire laughed again and pressed one more kiss to Enjolras’s lips. “I love you,” he murmured before stepping away. “And I will see you in the morning.”

Enjolras watched him go, dreading the next morning and wishing more than anything that he had not waited until Grantaire was out of earshot to finally reply, “I love you, too.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #with some Les Amis actually making a real appearance!#gasp!#les miserables #fanfiction #bridgerton au #regency au #canon era #fake marriage #developing relationship #chaptered #part 9

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reincarnation!Reader

Words: 2755 words

Warnings: TUA season 1 and 2 spoilers, violence, blood, mention of torture, swearing, angst.

Requested by: @asphodelshare

Hi! I read your Five fics and I like your style of writing! If it’s not too much to ask, could you write one where Five had to leave the reader back in the 2019 Apocalypse bc he didn’t have a choice. He then sees her 1963 counterpart, she doesn’t know him and he tries to stop himself from reconnecting w/ her but he can’t help himself. It’s up to you if it’ll end on a happy note or an angsty one! Xx

A/N: The Eternals are my personal touch, so I guess this should be considered an AU of some sort. I'm sure this wasn't what you thought would happen, I'll be frank, it wasn't what I thought either 😂 The end just wrote itself! And it wasn't what I had planned. Ouups.

He tried. Really, he tried. Ever since the first time he saw you walking in the street wearing a school uniform, a school bag hanging loosely on your shoulder and a lunchbox in hand, Five had had a hard time resisting his need to run to you and hug your form with all his might. Granted, Five had no proof that the girl walking away from him was this time-line version of you, she could simply be a perfect replica of your 15 years old self with the same habit of drawing on her school furniture, the same bright smile and the same bewitching laugh. Yes, she was just a replica. A too perfect replica.

Five forced his legs to take him away from her walking form and tried to push the girl at the back of his mind. He had to concentrate on his task to stop the new apocalypse and return back in 2019 where he left you.

It never was in the plan to let you die under the meteor shower that ravaged the Earth, if anything you were at the top of his list of people he had to save. Unfortunately Five came to the conclusion that the past was a place way too dangerous for you to venture, add this to the Commission who would surely double down their effort to kill the Hargreeves and whoever helped them, your chances of dying in the past were way too high for his liking. The boy would never be able to live with himself if you were to die permanently in the past and not for only a few days in 2019.

For a whole day, Five managed to forget about the girl and his feelings altogether. Alongside Diego, he broke into their father's company building and discovered some precious information. The part of the night involving the younger Pogo let him a bitter taste in his mouth but it didn't stop him in the slightest. Back at Morty's, Five was almost surprised to find his brother still breathing on the couch, his new partner in crime cauterizing his bullet-wound.

"Did you cut yourself shaving? I can teach you to shave like a big boy." Sighing the boy put a gaze to the bleeding scratches burning his neck. All he could hope now was that Pogo didn't give him Herpes B.

"No, I just ran into an old family friend." Five turned around towards the kitchen in hope of finding a perfectly brewed coffee pot. He groaned in disappointment when he noticed that not only was the coffee pot empty, but Elliott wasn't tied in the chair anymore.

"You untied him?" Five shot Lila a brief glance before returning his attention to his surroundings, listening attentively to any sound allowing him to pin-point the man's location.

"No. Was I supposed to?"

Ignoring her question, Five made his way to the rooms down the hallway. He never ventured there before, he assumed that the three doors lead to a bedroom and some storage rooms filled with conspiracy theories just like the living room. Turns out he was partially right.

Elliott's bedroom was empty, the bed still undone. The next door opened on a black room with pictures hanging on the walls and dyeing material placed neatly.

From behind the last door, Five could hear two distinct muffled voices. He recognized the first one as Elliott's but the second one made him frown in concentration. It sounded familiar even though he never really talked to anyone from this time-line other than Lila and Elliott.

Confused, Five opened the door, not prepared at all to see you standing in front of a seated Elliott, the two of you arguing in hushed voices. The cracking door alerted you, your angry gaze instantly found him, standing in your doorway with his mouth slightly opened in shock like an idiot.

Five gulped as you made your way to him, there was no way that she wasn't you. Not only did she look exactly like you, but her pissed-off expression was the same as the you he knew. Your fists were tight at your sides, no doubt giving you the courage to not back down before him, your furrowed brows created little wrinkles that Five desperately wanted to ease away by a light stroke of his fingers and your eyes. Oh your eyes. How he had missed their spark.

“Who are you?” You harshly asked while poking his chest with your delicate finger.

Five had a hard time keeping his arms to his sides, preventing them from pulling you into a tight hug that you were sure to hate. Instead, he breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm his frantic heart. “E- What are you doing here?” He mentally cursed the slight waver in his voice, then again, you tended to have that effect on him.

“I live here. Why are you here?”

He was at a loss of words and couldn't help but stare at you in disbelief. You lived here?

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Elliott stood up, his anxiety showing in the form of a hand scratching the back of his neck. “This is my daughter Y/N. Y/N this is- this is- eh. He’s one of them.”

You even had the same name! It finally clicked into Five's head. He had heard of the rare phenomenon back in his days at the Commission, someone extremely important to the balance of the time-line would reincarnate after each one of their deaths to keep the time-line on track. Those very few, only eight in the whole world, were constantly chased by the Commission who in the beginning tried to discover the secret of their perpetual rebirths but then changed their goal to killing them as soon as they could when they discovered that the reincarnations could remember their past and future lives. Five had always thought that the Eternals, as the Commission called them, were just a story created by bored time analysts to kill time.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, a small smile slipped out of his control at the perspective that this was really you right in front of him, his best friend, his confidant, his partner in crime and the object of his affection.

“The name’s Five.” So far you didn’t seem to remember him. Maybe you were too young or it was too soon. He had no idea how your condition worked.

"I don't care, asswad. You and your friends tied my father to a chair-" Five's heart stopped at the insult modern you used to call him all the time when his shitty attitude managed to get on your nerves. As much as he hated the nickname, he couldn’t help the rush of excitement he felt when he heard it. You may be starting to remember your future even if you were unaware of it.

"He tried to shoot us." Five deadpanned quickly remembering why they tied the man in the first place.

"You are in our house!"

"He invited us in." Okay, this one was a lie. Five had space-jumped in first, but then Elliott hadn't kicked him out so he would consider it as an invitation to stay.

"Dad!" You turned to the embarrassed grown-up, disbelief written all over your face.

Five decided to let them argue alone and go control his ever growing feelings somewhere else, preferably somewhere you were not. Walking back to the kitchen to finally make himself some coffee, Five thought about how he could help you remember who you were- no, will be.

“What’s the beeping?” Lila’s voice broke through his reasoning, catching his attention when she poked the computer screen.

Five made his way toward the machine, a grin stretching his lips. “Vanya.” In a second he jumped away, carrying on with his plan to gather his siblings.

It was only two days later that he saw you next. You were eating your breakfast while quickly scribbling on a poor paper sheet, your foot bouncing rapidly on the floor as the seconds passed. Five was watching you over his warm cup of coffee, swiftly averting his gaze whenever you would lift yours. An elbow hit his shoulder, almost causing him to lose his balance and fall on the floor, wasting his precious black liquid.

“What?” Five snapped at Luther after making sure his drink didn’t spill over his hand.

“Why is Y/N here?” His whispering was not subtle at all although luckily for the blue-eyed boy, the sizzling eggs covered the excessive sound.

Five went to his brother’s side, turning his back to you in the meantime. “She’s not the same Y/N. Well, she is but-” He groaned at the complexity of the situation. His brother would definitely not understand, so he went with the easy way out. “Long story short, this is her past life. Now stop talking abou-”

“Oh, hey even your little girlfriend made it here.” Diego joined the conversation without a care in the world. He grabbed a plate along with some toast before dropping them at Five’s outburst.

“She’s not my girlfriend!” He could feel his body heating up despite his best efforts.

All three of them tensed for their own reasons yet they all not so subtly turned their heads in your direction. If looks could kill, they would definitely be at the verge of death.

“I’m not his girlfriend.” Five just received his killing blow.

You hurriedly grabbed your bag under the table and rushed out of the room, paper in hand. The silence following your exit permitted your last words to bounce in his head, hurting his feelings like nothing before. If he could gauge the pain he felt at this right moment on a scale of 1 to 10, he would say that without a doubt this was a 10.

What you said was the plain truth. In any lives of yours did you and him became a thing. It didn’t stop the fact that after all these years suppressing his romantic attraction toward you, Five had nurtured the hope that maybe one day, you two could be more than friends. Today this hope just blew up in his face, mauling his heart in the process.

So in the blink of an eye, the boy disappeared from the kitchen to live his pain alone, away from prying eyes and the pity of his brothers.

Later that same day, Five was nursing his seventh cup of steaming coffee of the day when someone sat next to his own spot on the second floor, legs dangling in the air where the floor stopped to show the once TV shop. He sipped on his coffee as an attempt to show them that he wasn’t interested in the slightest in what they had to say, needless to say that it didn’t work. He should be used by now, it never worked.

“I’m impressed that you didn’t die from a heart attack or something. Your blood pressure should be pretty high with all the coffee that you drink in a day.” He nearly choked on his sip when your soft voice reached his ears.

He turned to you, baffled to see you smirking at him. Not angry. Not annoyed. Playful. "You know, if you weren't from the future and weren’t endangering my father by your mere presence here, I would have loved to be your friend."

Just when Five thought that he couldn’t be surprised anymore! "How do yo-?"

"Klaus doesn't stop talking about how he misses youtube." The boy sighed, clearly his brother couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He wondered if sewing his mouth shut would suffice to shut him up for good. Knowing Klaus, he would definitely find a way to express himself without his mouth. “Also I remember you, asswad.” You bumped his shoulder with yours before crossing your arms on the railing before you and resting your head on them.

His eyes went wide, the meaning of your words slowly registering into his brain. He turned to you, trying in vain to not get his hopes up about your remembrance. A very genuine smile stretched your lips, making Five almost drop his mug on the floor below. He then realized that if you could remember your future life, then you surely remembered your future death and with it, how Five abandoned you to your demise. Guilt pulled at his heart at imagining what you went through because of him and fear darkened his heart at the thought that not only your past self would hate him but your modern self too.

Something on his cheek caught his attention, the delicate stroke of your fingers awoke a fire under his skin when he noticed your gesture and the concerned frown disturbing your perfect features. This time around he couldn’t stop himself and reached forward, smoothing the creased skin with a light brush of his fingertips.

“I’m sorry.” His hand dropped in defeat at his side, his gaze fleeing yours.

“What for?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“I abandoned you to die.” His voice was so small, saying it aloud made him doubt his choice. He closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears away, his remorses started eating him alive.

You moved closer and took the mug out of his hand when it was within your reach. You disposed of it before wrapping your arms around his waist and put your chin on his shoulder. He didn’t open his eyes, instead closing them tighter to the point that he started to see stars dance behind his eyelids.

“You.” You blowed on the side of his face. Once. Twice. “Hey you. Open your eyes.” You sighed when he merely relaxed his facial muscles but kept his eyes shut. “I understand you know? You had to. I’m not mad.”

You proceeded to poke his cheek when the absence of reaction on his part was starting to get on your nerves. “I’m talking to you, asswad!”

You gasped when Five suddenly turned his head to the side and connected his lips to yours with force. His hands found the side of your face to keep you close when his lips moved with yours in a desperate motion, as if you would vanish at any seconds. At one point, the kiss stopped tasting coffee, a salty taste replacing the strong addicting aroma.

Slowly Five pulled away to discover tears running down your cheeks. His first reaction was to close his hands into fists wanting to jump away and remove his damned heart from his chest with his bare hands. As the blue waves flowed around his fists, your lips stretched in a smile stealing his breath.

"Took you long enough." Your almost imperceptible whisper was so loud in his ears.

A smile mirroring your own formed on his face, he was beyond the moon all the while asking himself how he could have been so stupidly blind to your feelings.

"We got there, that's what's important." You hummed in agreement before repositioning your head on his shoulder and contemplating what next.

A few days passed and Five along with his siblings met their father. Needless to say that it went down pretty quickly. For some odd reason, Five found himself thinking that it could have been worse. Someone could have died. Or hurt. Everyone was in one piece if we didn't count Diego's soul.

Space-jumping back at Morty's, Five thought that he was horribly wrong. Elliott's body laid in a chair obviously having been tortured before being executed. As much as the boy wanted to feel bad for the man who played such a great role helping him reach his goal, every thought that passed through his mind was directed at you.

Five yelled your name before jumping from room to room before he noticed a crimson red trail leading to the black room.

His shaking hand grabbed the handle of the slightly opened door, pushing it with a shaky breath escaping his lungs.

If it wasn't of your school uniform you were wearing, Five couldn't have said for sure that this broken body was yours. The obvious torture you went through got him on his knees, water pooling from his eyes like two rivers.

He was wrong. So dearly wrong. This, right now, was the worst pain he ever felt. He didn't even have to open his chest to relieve himself of his excruciating pain for his heart had completely stopped at the agony scaled to 11.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #number five imagine #the boy #tua s2 #the umbrella academy #this is angsty #and it was supposed to be fluff #my bad #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves

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tedturneriscrazy · 2 years

Text

As all two people might know, at one point I was working on a fic before the announcement of the season 2 premiere. Despite my initial intent to continue it, I ended up abandoning it, mostly because it turned out I had made assumptions about Amity's character and motivations that proved to be incorrect, among other things. I know canon divergence is a thing, but ultimately the wind was taken out of my sails, and it remains incomplete.

However, I did end up writing a fair amount for chapter 2, and for the heck of it I decided to post what I managed to write here.

Anyways, have what I managed to write of chapter 2 of Tea With the Emperor.

(You can read chapter 1 here if you're interested)

2. The Proposition

If this had happened even a month ago, this would’ve almost certainly been the greatest day of Amity Blight’s life.

For the entirety of her school career, she had worked hard to be the best. To be the kind of witch that is indisputably one of the elite. To be the kind of witch that would be considered for the prestigious Emperor’s Coven.

To be the kind of witch unbound by anything her parents might have planned.

And now Emperor Belos had commended her efforts, praised her achievements, and strongly hinted that she was good enough to not only be in his coven, but even to eventually lead it. He had all but guaranteed her a position in it, no signups, trials, or duels necessary.

All she had to do was possibly give up what could very well be the love of her life.

Amity was still in a daze as she stood at the door to leave for Hexside.

The past week, all things considered, had been busy but relatively uneventful: recovering from her injury, attending classes, participating in after-school activities, fending off the occasional jab from Boscha, reading to the kids at the library, hanging out with Willow and Gus when time and opportunity allowed (despite it still being a tad awkward), and spending “quality time” with her parents and the twins via mealtimes and “private sales.”

And now two momentous messages had come in the same morning within minutes of each other. One she had been waiting for all week, while the other, in a sense, she had been waiting for nearly her entire life. If Amity played her cards right today, she could very well secure the future she had always wanted. At least, what she thought she wanted. Certain recent events had somewhat thrown that into question. Certain people, too.

Well, one certain person, anyway.

Amity shook her head to clear out these thoughts. After all, she was going to meet the Emperor himself this afternoon. Not just meet him, but presumably talk with him, as well. He didn’t need to know that she had been hanging around with the human that had very publicly escaped from the Conformatorium with a wanted criminal that had been moments away from being petrified. He definitely didn’t need to know about the massive crush she was currently harboring on said human.

She smacked herself in the face. Pull yourself together, Blight, she thought to herself. You’re going to meet Luz later tonight. For now, focus on making a good impression with Emperor Belos. Then your spot in his coven will be secure.

While Amity was hardly reassured by this internal pep talk, at the very least it returned her focus to the moment. She finally opened the door and stepped out to head to school.

When Amity arrived on the school grounds, she noticed that the other students looked at her as she passed by, speaking among each other in hushed tones. Great, she thought, everyone already knows. Exactly how they knew was a mystery to Amity, as it always was. One way or another, BBN-HXN could never hope to match the speed and efficiency with which news spread throughout the Hexside campus. Despite their efforts to keep her from hearing what they were saying, and despite her own efforts to ignore them, she could catch a few stray remarks as she made her way to the entrance and through the halls.

“Yeah, by Belos himself!”

“What do you think he wants with her?”

“Man, being rich gives you all the perks!”

“Guess she’s gonna get a head start on bootlicking…”

“Not so loud! She might hear you!”

Amity rolled her eyes slightly but otherwise gave no indication that she heard any of this. If she was good at anything it was being stoic and aloof. Besides, nothing she had heard was worth getting worked up over anyway. Just the usual gossip and chatter. No big deal.

On her way to the Abomination homeroom she caught sight of Willow and a noticeably taller Gus. They were chatting about something excitedly, but Amity couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. She approached them, waving to get their attention.

“Well, if it isn’t the Emperor’s personal guest!” Gus greeted playfully.

“How does everyone know about that already?!” Amity asked, exasperated.

“Well, you know how it is,” Willow explained, “word travels fast around here. But if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say your brother and sister probably had something to do with it.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Amity grumbled. Considering what they had tried to do with her diary and what they said about the “Azura Book Club,” she would not put it past them. Sure, they might disguise it as bragging, but she was certain getting on their baby sister’s nerves would be their primary motive.

“Anyway, give us the deets!” Gus said eagerly. “Why did Emperor Belos invite you over to his castle?”

This question caught Amity off guard. Sure, Kikimora had given an explanation, but she could only guess at his true motive. Perhaps he really was simply interested in meeting the top student of Hexside. Then again, Amity supposed that, as the most important and powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, he would hardly meet with any one person without a purpose in mind. Certainly not a teenage girl he didn’t personally know.

Trying not to dwell on this, Amity simply repeated what Kikimora had told her an hour ago. Neither of them seemed entirely convinced by this.

“I don’t know,” Gus mused. “Seems like the Emperor would be a pretty busy guy. I doubt he’d have the time to be meeting with students like that, even the top ones.”

Amity shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you, that’s all she would say.”

“Enough about that,” Willow said. “Have you heard from Luz yet? She’s returning to school tomorrow!”

Amity stared at her incredulously. “What?!”

“That’s right!” Gus added. “She called us earlier this morning and told us she was coming back. Didn’t say much else though, only that she’d explain when she got here. I thought she would’ve called you, too.”

“Well, she didn’t call, exactly,” Amity said. “She actually sent Owlbert to deliver a note to me. No mention of returning to school or anything, but she did ask to meet her tonight.”

“Wait, you’re meeting her tonight?” Gus asked, seeming confused and a tad surprised. “Why would she ask you to do that?”

Amity caught a glimpse of Willow’s expression at this revelation. Unlike Gus, this didn’t appear to faze her. On the contrary, her eyes betrayed satisfied, even smug, knowledge.

“She probably guessed that talking to Amity via scroll or crystal ball was out,” Willow answered. “After all, Mrs. Blight could be monitoring those lines. And Luz would know what she’s like, at least a little bit.”

“Uh, yeah, that’s a good point,” Amity said, somewhat hesitating. That possibility, much to her embarrassment, had not occurred to her as she tried to call Luz all those times. After all, her mom was a member of the Oracle coven, so that would be fairly easy for her to do. Then again, even when she had been forced into that Everlasting Oath, her mom had not mentioned any of those attempts, so it was hard to say one way or the other.

Still, Amity couldn’t shake the feeling that what Willow said wasn’t the actual answer she had in mind. Perhaps she was seeing things, but Amity swore she could see Willow’s mouth form the tiniest smirk.

"Fair enough," Gus said, seemingly satisfied with that explanation. He put his hand to his chin, obviously thinking about something. Suddenly a look of dawning comprehension--and...concern?-- came across his face.

"I just had a thought!" he said, almost shouting. He then leaned in to whisper, "What if the reason Belos wants to see you is because of Luz?"

A chill went down Amity's spine. It seemed like there were so many things lately that hadn't crossed her mind. Some thoughts, like this, she sincerely wished hadn't.

For a brief moment she was furious with Gus for putting such an idea in her head. She did her best to quash the urge to yell at him. After all, it was a valid question, and it wouldn't do to shoot the messenger.

Perhaps sensing all of this, Willow interjected, "Come on, Gus, think about that for a second. If he really wanted to talk to anybody about Luz, he'd probably have one of us brought in. Y'know, the ones who were with her at the castle? And rallied a crowd to call for Eda's release on live TV?"

"Good point," Gus conceded, turning to look at Amity. "He probably doesn't even know she's friends with you. Even if he has time to visit specific students, he couldn't possibly have time to look into their social lives!"

"Yeah…" Amity said quietly. She wanted to be reassured by this. His reasoning seemed sound enough.

However, yet another unwelcome thought crossed her mind: Grom. Even if Belos had more pressing matters than the intricacies of school life, he almost certainly would have heard about the events of Grom, considering Grometheus was a force that affected all of the Boiling Isles. The fact that there were two Grom Queens for the first time in history would have been especially notable.

Not to mention who those co-queens were.

Amity decided not to bring this up. Worrying Willow and Gus about this wouldn't help anything; if anything it would only add to her own stress. The tea was happening this afternoon, and she could ill afford her nerves being more shot than they already were.

Suddenly a simultaneous ringing and screaming sound filled the hallway. It was the warning bell for classes. The young witches said their farewells and headed toward their respective homerooms, promising to talk later.

Considering the significant events that were taking place that day and evening, the school day itself ended up being rather unremarkable. Sure, Amity did have a few students bold enough to ask questions about her upcoming meeting with Belos, but overall it was a fairly typical day. There wasn’t much further discussion about the teatime or Luz with Willow and Gus, since they all agreed that there wasn’t much else to talk about. Well, other than the one thing Amity refrained from mentioning.

Before she knew it, the end of the school day had rolled around, and it was time to head to the Emperor’s castle.

As Amity exited the building, she could clearly see her ride. An ornate carriage--white with gold trim and curtains, as well as a large Emperor’s Coven sigil on the side--was parked right at the entrance to the school grounds. Harnessed to the carriage were a pair of alicorns whose colors matched the carriage; white bodies and wings with golden manes, tails, and horns. Standing by the carriage were two masked members of the Emperor’s Coven, with a third holding the harness in the driver’s seat.

A crowd had predictably gathered around the carriage. After all, it wasn’t every day that the Emperor’s Coven paid a visit to Hexside. However, the crowd was not too close to the carriage, and Amity could see a clear path leading to it. More than likely this was the doing of the EC members.

Amity made her way to the carriage and stopped in front of the coven members. The one on her right stepped aside, opened the door of the carriage, and gestured inside. “After you, Miss Blight.”

Amity muttered a quiet thanks to the coven member and stepped inside the carriage, aided by the other coven member. The interior of the carriage stuck to the theme of the exterior and the alicorns, mostly white with gold accents. The exception were the seat cushions, which were a shade of bright red that somehow complemented the interior rather than clashing with it.

Once Amity took the seat nearest the door, the coven members stepped inside and sat across from her. One of them pounded lightly on the wall, signaling to the driver to start moving. Shortly after the carriage started to rise into the air, and was soon flying toward its destination at a brisk pace.

#the owl house #toh fanfiction #toh fanfic #incomplete work #abandoned work #kinda weird to read this now lol #i was way off on some things huh #oh well #amity blight #luz noceda #emira blight #edric blight #odalia blight #alador blight #kikimora #willow park #gus porter #is this post a good idea? probably not

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mcytbdamofficial · 3 years

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A strange question. If the official DSMP lore of (a) character/s ever heavily changes from what you wrote it as (in example, if c!Velvet turns out to be long dead or the velvetisegg theory is true, or any of the major characters- that their canon lore starts being majorily different), how do you come up with things that would make them "fit in" again? I am just genuiely curious about that

usually a good way to go around things like that is to fall back on what i've already established and try to spin it in the right way. a good thing to use is the nether lore as well as everything with the memories - things like that are unpredictable and pretty much anything can come to light at any point.

(this answer went on for a while longer than i expected so i’ll put it under the cut in case there’s someone scrollin who doesn’t want this whole thing clogging up their dash)

a good example would be the sbi family canon - when phil first shouted the words "you're my son!" a lot of people instantly thought that techno, wilbur and tommy being his sons had been basically canonized (obviously this got debunked later with only wilbur being his son, but at the time that was the canon i went with and had to somehow push in). until a part of the story i wasn't planning to make the sbi family canon, so i had to think of something fast. so i considered how phil, for whatever reason, supported techno's reign during the antarctic empire days. why did he just outright follow him when his acts were universally regarded as evil? initial ideas were he, himself, was rather bloodthirsty, but this new issue came around and i used this blank in the story as a way to explain it - of COURSE phil would support techno unconditionally, he's his son, after all. later on, i managed to strike a balance in the story between phil supporting techno because of them being family, as well as him, himself, having his own agenda in the empire itself (bringing along the bloodthirsty nature of techno, which in turn i later explained with the voices, once those were canonized. that solution to a new canon was practically handed to me, with how i wrote the bloodlust as a voice beforehand. i just had to change it to “voices”).

for your example, i have one idea that could work! if velvet turns out long dead, i could quickly explain it in a simple way. ant WAS getting letters from velvet, but at one point they stopped and he received news velvet had died. ant has been lying about getting letters after some point because he didn't want other people who knew him to get hurt, and maybe he's even in a certain level of denial.

if velvet IS the egg, that could be more complicated, but still doable. tie it all into the source/nether lore, make him some sort of god or symbol of chaos, just play around with the rules of my own world until things fall into place. usually, somehow, i will find a way out just by stepping back and analysing what i already have prepared and thinking of how it can help me insert a new idea into the story without disturbing what's already there.

this is basically how wilbur being a source came into fruition! initial ideas were him and schlatt decided themselves to not enter the bunker and escape the flood on their own, but how would that make sense? oh yeah, what if one of them IS the flood? then i rewatch the video, and who other than wilbur is putting the commands in to make the water rise! it was too perfect not to somehow include it, yknow? and then boom, i have this cool lore about sources. why not use it? and yes, initially sources were JUST gonna be a passing mention in the captain’s journal. they weren’t ever planned to go this far. and before you know it we have wilbur, kristin, foolish, hannah...

so yeah. what i’m saying is. when in doubt, use nether lore. and that’s how i’ll go around whatever comes of the egg, in the end.

a lot of it also comes down to very careful storytelling and knowing what to change and what to leave alone. when the story started there was a set amount of people that i knew were involved in the roleplay and others i knew would NEVER get involved (keep in mind the story started being written before even the festival happened live, HELL, even villbur wasn't a thing back then), and separated them into small groups based on what i could and what i couldn't play around with. for example;

i could easily change callahan, alyssa, etc around... they're people who barely appear who aren't involved in the storyline. i gave them small appearances to show they're there and mostly kept them to the back.

people who i KNOW will never join the smp can be mentioned, referenced or even included! minx is probably the prime example of this. and if she ever DOES join the smp, by some magical chance? there can always be some magical book in the library that can reverse her from a dreamon to a human. so nothing to worry about there.

future major characters like dream, quackity, niki, etc didn't have much at the start but needed something to push them into their future arcs. in these characters i changed their start but made sure it left space to be moulded into anything they become later - i made niki kind but i also showed her early critisism of wilbur, already sensing she may have a villian arc coming in the future. when season 2 came around, i was proved right so i went in on those small hints more and more.

for characters who have an established arc, start to finish, who it's hard to change in any way, i change nothing - but i look at their past. the obvious people for this are schlatt and wilbur. on the smp they were characters start to finish, their arcs started and ended in the story and had nothing else. so i focused on the past, instead. and boom, suddenly we have 35 smplive chapters of completely original content.

with every character i live small hints of SOMETHING coming in the future. i leave small holes to be eventually filled by canon, and if canon gives me nothing, i fill them myself with something minor. another good thing is to trust fanon - with a fandom like this, where the creators listen to their fans and canonize a lot of popular fanon, it's good to go in on small fanon knowing it will eventually be canon, or even knowing it will make readers happy and will never impact the story, no matter how much it changes (think tubbo having horns, puffy being a pirate/sea captain of some sort, stuff like that)

there are, of course, times when i can’t avoid changing things from canon. phil not knowing who schlatt is, wilbur not knowing schlatt, etc... but i think in those places, those changes serve to improve the story in some way, and i think it’s a welcome change in the end. this story is definitely leaning more into AU than RETELLING, but i don’t think it’s such a bad thing. while faithfully retelling every major plot point, it adds its own elements and creates a somewhat new and exciting story people can enjoy anew. i think that’s what i strive to do the most in this fic - not retell the story word for word. you’ve already seen the videos. you don’t need that. what i DO want to do is create an engaging read for both avid fans who have seen every stream and casual fans who want the lore to make a little bit more sense to them. and that’s that.

god that went on a while didn’t it haha...

okay so to summarise - whenever something major changes in the canon lore, i have various ways of going about it. usually for some characters i would have left behind hints of SOMETHING and will just try to fit them into whatever change has showed up, or try to at the very least explain them with the new development so it doesn’t seem out of nowhere.

if that is not possible, i look back on all i established and think how i can use it to my advantage. could someone have been forgotten in an old world? is there some sort of nether anomaly that could have caused this? is this character a reliable narrator and have we gotten the full truth? there are a lot of ways to change things around with it being completely out of the blue but seeming fitting for the audience - you just have to really think it through, plan it, and make sure you know exactly what you want to do before going into it.

and finally, if there truly is no way to change a thing, shift canon completely and make sure it doesn’t change the base story. allow me to use the sbi as an example again, since i think they’re a good tool for this;

techno will take tommy in and help him recover from exile, same as canon, because he is his brother, as bdam canon states. at first he’ll just do it because phil wanted him to, but soon it will become a matter of family. when tommy betrays techno, it will hurt him more deeply BECAUSE they’re brothers. when he comes back to phil and tells him what happened, even phil himself will become enraged. the two themselves have been shown to have a history of resorting to violence and aggression in the story (look back at the antarctic empire), so doomsday wouldn’t seem out of character, or, at the very least, out of the question, when two men like them are pushed to their very limits by a betrayal like this. still, it would be unfair on tommy, but on both sides there would be something justified and something they did wrong - and that’s how you balance a good conflict in any story.

so yeah. i hope this long ass essay made sense. a lot of work goes into making sure this story flows naturally, so i’m glad someone finally asked something like this where i could reveal just how much work goes into it!!!

#sam speaks #ask #whoo boy a long one

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