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i-is-a-fan-weeb · 3 years

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first off:Happy Birthday Percy!! And second:thank you to @percydarling for giving me the inspo for my first fic here! So here we go(also i set this in Percy's fourth year so yea) also TW in the tags

Penny walked into the empty Great Hall and spotted Percy sitting at the end of what is normally the Slytherin table,reading on of his many books on mythology.

"Hi Percy! What mythology sre you reading today?" Penny plumped down next to Percy

"Chinese." Percy simply replied,not looking up.

Percy has always been into mythology,ever since his Uncle Gideon brought a book on Greek myths when he was 4 and Percy read it while Gideon,Fabion and Molly talked downstairs. After that,the onky thing Percy wanted for his birthday and Christmas was a book on Greek mythology,before he branched out to other mythologies and muggle religions when he was 10. Then he asked for books on any myths and religion(Arthur got him an actual Bible on his 11th).

This year,Penny,Oliver and Marcus were planning to do more than that.

"Ooo,Chinese. You're so lucky your parents let you read mythology and explore other religions at home." Penny always complained about not being able to read mythology at home because her parent were over-religious muggles and it took her mother everything to not have her father disown her for being a witch. Penny also wasn't allowed to visit or write any of her friends over breaks either.

Out of nowhere,Oliver and Marcus sat down across from Percy and Penny.

"Hey Perce." Oliver took one hand away from Percy's boom and kissed the knuckles. Then he took the book away from Percy.

"Hey!" Percy cried out,reaching for his book,but Oliver,whose much faster,managed to keep it away.

"Na-ahhh. You're not getting this back until we're done." Oliver said,closing the book shut(but not before taking Percy's bookmark and putting it in Percy's place in the book)

"Done with what?" Percy asked,narrowing his eyes at his friends(and boyfriend)

"We have sonething to ask you." Marcus said

"If it's about me being tiebraker for whatever Quidditch match is coming up,the answer will always be no." Percy said,slowly sitting back down.

"What? No. The next Quidditch match is in November." Oliver said increduosly

"We wanted to ask you if you're ok with surprises." Penny tiredly said,already done with Oliver.

"Huh?" Percy asked,confused by this.

"Are you ok with surprises?" Marcus questioned,bored.

"Um,yeah I guess. I live with Fred and George so I got used to surprises pretty early on." Percy suspiciously said.

"Cool." Marcus said,before getting up and leaving,Oliver and Penny following behind.

Percy looked after them confused,before leaving himself.

A week passes,and Oliver comes into his and Percy's dorm,with two random people.

"Hello Penny,Marcus." Percy greeted his friends who are under the influence of Polyjuice.

"Come on." the boy on the right-who is Marcus-said inpatiently.

"Wha-"Percy didn't even get to finish his sentence before the girl on the left-who is Penny-grabbed his arm and pulled him downstairs,followed by Marcus and Oliver.

"Where are we going?" Percy asked as he got dragged by Penny

"You'll see." Oliver whispered in ear teasingly,kissing his cheek.

"Can you save all that romantic sh!t for when you are alone?" Marcus asked.

"Oh shut up."Oliver said said

"All of you shut up!" Penny whisper-shouted,and ponted to Filch and Mrs.Norris up ahead of them.

"The h3ll are we doing?!" Percy whisper-shouted back.

"Shhhh!!" Penny shushed him,and threw out what Percy presumed to be a dungbomb at Filch and his cat.

The dungbomb exploded and Filch and the cat ran away,Filch yelling about who knows what,Mrs.Norris yowling.

"Ok,coast is clear." Penny gestured,and she,Percy(still being dragged by Penny),Oliver and Marcus went in the direction Filch was previously(covering their noses) and out the grand doors.

"Where are we going?" Percy choked out,struggling to get his inhalor out of his pocket*

"I said you'll see." Oliver offhandedly replied

The four of them were walking out towards...Hogsmead?

"Why are we going towards Hogsmead? It's not even close to December!" Percy asked Penny,who didn't give him an answer.

Penny stopped outside of the Three Broomsticks,the Polyjuice finally worn off.

Penny dragged them inside(but not after Marcus took another small dose of Polyjuice).

"Hello,Madame Rosemerta!" Penny gleefully greeted

"Hello,youngsters. Your room is ready,and so are your guests." Madame Rosemerta said,vaguely gestering upstairs,before retreatingto the back room.

"What does she mean by that?" Percy asked,fed up with them keeping these secrets. No one gave him an answer,instead they went upstairs and went all the way down the hall to the very last room.

Marcus went up,the Polyjuice now officially worn off,and knocked some sort of special code.

A little boy with light brown hair and big brown eyes opened the door.

"Hey! We've been waiting!" Cedric Diggory held the door open,and Percy saw birthday decorations,a cake on the table in the middle and a bunch of presents in a corner.

"W-what?" Percy asked quietly.

Penny,Marcus,and Oliver went up and joined Cedric and Adrien Pucey around the table,and they alk started singing "Happy Birthday".

Percy just stood there amazed and confused.

"But-but it's not my birthday?" Percy dazedly said

"We know its not you birthday,which is why we did this!" Adrien said

"We wanted to do something for you because we can't celebrate with you." Cedric said excitedly

"So,you all snuck out of the castle and risked getting expelled,for 𝘮𝘦?" Percy asked

"You act as if we haven't done it before." Marcus snorted

"Yeah,but that's different. Penny and I know which rules to break and how to break them. This is breaking who know how many rules,and Cedric is only a First year,he can't get expelled already." Percy protested.

"Just sit your cute a$$ down and eat some cake." Oliver grabbed Percy by the wrist and sat him down around the table.

"Madame Rosemerta said she'll cover us,as long as we pay for the Butterbeer." Cedric said

"What about this room?" Percy asked

"Madame Rosemerta said we could use it anytine we wanted,no charge unless we damage something." Penny said

"So you and lover boy over here can do what you want behind closed doors." Marcus added

"We have a dorn for that." Oliver countered

"Ew!" Adrien and Cedric exclaimed at the same time

"This is a private room Percy,no one except us and whoever we want to invite can come in." Penny quickly explained

"So,this is some sort of late birthday treat-for me?" Percy asksd quietly

"Yes for you." Oliver said,kissing his boyfriends cheeks

"Can you not do that while I'm here?" Adrien asked,while Cedric stuck out his toungue in disgust.Oliver rolled his eyes.

All of them had a good time eating cake and drinking Butterbeer.

"Here." Oliver handed a gift to Percy.

"What is it?" Percy asked after opening thebpresent which turned out to be a sort of old book.

"It's a Qu'ran. It's another muggle religion book." Oliver explained. Percy's pale,icy blue orbs widened in excitement,almost childlike.

"Here! Here's mine!" Pennt excitedly gave Percy another book-shaped present. Percy opened it,and it turned out to be a empty notebook,with a dark purple cover.

"I put a charm on it,so we can all communicate without having to tire our owls! And I can talk to you all over breaks!" Penny was practically jumping on the tips of her toes in excitement

"Perfect!" Percy exclaimed,and looked up to see everyone pulled out colorful notebooks;Marcus had a dark red,Oliver's was bright green,Penny's was a cheerful yellow,Adrien's was a deep pink and Cedric's was a dark blue.

Percy opened up the rest of the presents-Marcus got him two books,one on how to get away with mûrd3r and the other on how to hide a body.Cedric got him a book on how to speak Latin,a book on how to speek Greek and a book on Russian folklore. Adrien had gotten him a book on Italian myths and superstitions.

"Thank you. Thank you guys so much."

"Don't mention it." Marcus wrapped his arm around Percy,giving the ginger a small grin.

"No,seriously don't mention this to anyone. We can't let the whole castle know that us Slytherins are hanging out with the all of you." Adrien said in a serious yet still sad tone.

"And Fred and George would go the extra 10 miles to make Percy's life even more miserable than the already do." Oliver said grimly

"Enough of this sadness! It's Percy's late birthday and we are going to celebrate it happily!" Penny stomped.

Everyone murmered their agreements and went back to celebrating Percy.

They stayed for another hour before they decided to leave.

As Cedric and Adrien downstairs,Oliver,Percy,Penny and Marcus stayed behind.

"Soo,you wanna do a slumber party?" Marcus asked

"Ok!" Percy exclaimed giddily.

"Who's turn is it?" Penny asked.

"I think it our turn." Oliver gestured to him and Percy

"Ok." Marcus said simply and went downstairs,Penny following him. Leaving Percy and Oliver alone.

"We should-" Percy was cut off by Oliver smashing his lips onto Percys. Percy was at first in shock,but quckly melted into the kiss. The two boys stayed like that for what felt like forever before Oliver slowly pulles away,not really wanting to let go.

"Happy birthday,Percy." Oliver said,putting his face into the taller boys chest.

"Thank you." Percy murmered into the Keepers soft,brown hair.

"Ahem." Oliver and Percy quickly jumped away from each other at the sudden sound,but relaxed when it was only Madame Rosemerta leaning against the doorframe.

"I know you two have hormones and stuff,but please not in my private rooms." She said

Both boys muttered their apologies and quickly walked out

"You forgot your presents!" Madame Rosemerta called out. Oliver quickly ran back up the stairs and ran back down with Percy's gifts.

"Thank you for letting us use this room!" Percy called up to Madame Rosemerta

"Of course! I know what it's like having to hide a relationship!" Rosemerta called down from inside the room.

Percy and Okiver walked the rest of the way back down the stairs and met Penny and Marcus outside.

"What did you think,Perce?" Penny asked,now her and Marcus back to their Polyjuice forms.

"It was great. Honestly,thank you." Percy said gratefully.

"No problem. We know ever since Fred and George took the spotlight,your birthday has been forgotten about." Marcus said grimly.

"What did I say about sadness today!" Penny stomped her foot angrily in the ground.

The four walked back to the castle in a comfortabke silence,snuck back in with no problems and manage to get into Gryffindor tower with out a hitch.

"Here." Percy handed Penny and Marcus some spare pajamas that they all kept in their dorms for whenevr they have sleepovers.

After Penny and Marcus changed and brought out the blow-up matresses that they also keep in their dorms,they all stayed up late and talked and ate some junk food and got drunk off of Firewhisky and Brandy that their House Elf friend Dottie had brought. They stayed up and laughed and had a great time. They all eventually fell asleep at different times(Marcus being the lightweight he is fell asleep first).

Percy will never forget that day.

*Ok so i headcannon Percy to have allergic asthma(if u dont know what that is look it up,i aint google) and that he has like a crap ton of allergies bc who else doesnt like torturing their comfort character? Also before anyone asks,i do have a headcannon that a student that was way before Molly and Arthurs time,much less Percys,also had asthma but couldnt bring her inhalor bc it was muggle technology,so she petitioned for muggle health devices be allowed into hogwarts,and evetually they were allowed but only for health purposes. Im not telling you who that student is tho hehe.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY WEASLEY! And once again thanks to @percydarling for giving me this suggestion!

#harry potter #percy weasley x oliver wood #percy weasley #happy birthday percy weasley #cedric diggory #adrien pucey #penny clearwater #penelope clearwater #marcus flint #madame rosemerta #the three broomsticks #perciver #my first fic on here!!#not my first fic ever but my first fic here on tumblr dot com!!

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mynameisjag · 2 years

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A continuation of the drabble where Ethan is taken from Chris's protection and placed into Leon's.

Leon had known Chris Redfield for years now…he could describe the man in many words…both good and bad…the man lived for his job and his job alone.

He knows if he asked Ethan…the response would be…’he's terrifying, Leon,’ and not in the way of admiration like others have once told him.

The father flinches whenever bigger bodies are near, eyes darting to the face and only relaxing when the profile doesn’t match to Redfield's.

Chris isn’t supposed to know the Winters are under his supervision but it doesn’t surprise him when he gets a texts a few months later asking about the small family of two.

:Chris, you know the policies.

:When have you cared about policies?

When they work in his favor…when it came to protecting them, when it came to making sure they were…content…under his roof.

:Just…can I know they are okay?

:Rosemary’s a baby and seems fine so far, Ethan…Ethan is getting better.

He was, even if he had slips now and then but so did Leon so he could understand the sudden fears, the nightmares…he had them all to often and there was comfort in sharing them with each other.

The fear though of who was supposed to be a friend…one that they both knew and understood on different levels…was something a bit harder for them to work through…

There a few moments of nothing and he knows what the man wants to ask…but he’ll wait till he gathers enough balls to do so.

Instead, he watches Ethan flit around the living room, a toy in one hand and a throw blanket in the other, “Leon, why are these in the floor?”

“Was laying down with Rosie watching one of her shows, she kept chewing on the toy…I think she might have some teeth coming in.”

“Already? It explains why its wet…is it normal for her age? I’m going to go check the book.”

The book was a guide on parenting that was gotten for Leon as a joke but the other blonde took to it like it was a Bible, it was a stupid little thing but…it made Ethan feel better…so it stayed…

:Has he asked about Mia?

:That’s not what you want to ask, Redfield.

The phone goes back down and he returns to watching the movie he had put on earlier with Rosemary, the plot was completely lost on him and he was sure she just liked the colors and sounds but they both managed to stay entertained by it.

“Okay, the book says this is normal, so I shouldn’t be worried and I should be looking for teethers.”

“Already got it on the list for when we go into town.”

“Amazing, you’re amazing,” there’s a flash of a smile that sends a feeling of something Leon would like to ignore before Ethan turns back to cleaning up the house.

:Does he ask about what happened?

:Strike two, Chris, I’m not going to play the round about game with you.

He should get up and help put away the leftovers but he was comfortably laying on the couch with the baby on his chest, she was happily babbling away, small hands smacking his chest occasionally and he wonders when she’ll start talking. It will probably be soon with the way she’s going.

:Has he talked about me?

There we go. Took him long enough.

:Yes.

:Yes?

:He has nightmares about you.

He did, Leon would know, since the both of them would curl up to each other at night in attempt to fight off the nightmares. It was nice to wake up to someone and know that you weren’t trapped in a hellhole because they were next to you. Before when he woke up alone…it some times felt like he was still stuck in a dream.

The phone doesn’t buzz again with Redfield’s number and he figures the man needs time to fully understand that in Ethan’s case, he wasn’t a friend or any kind of protector like the older man thought he was being. Instead he was one of the beast that haunted him in his terrors…

#ethan winters #resident evil #resident evil village #chris redfield #leon kennedy #chris is living with regrets #leon is living with a house husband #ethan is a living mushroom man

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petitelepus · 3 years

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25 Days of MTMTE Christmas, Part 25, Christmas Sweater

It’s Christmas Eve on Lost Light and everyone is all dressed up.

Merry Christmas everyone! I understand that this has been a hectic year and there are people who can’t celebrate Christmas like they would like to because of the Coronavirus so I hope that ‘25 Days of MTMTE Christmas’ has been lightening your dark nights and made you smile even the tiniest bit.

I want to thank my beloved friend @missykitty! She read every single chapter and edited them, gave me inspiration, corrected my spelling and choice of words because English isn’t my first language or even second. She made this story possible.

I want to also thank you all for reading and enjoying my stories. I write to bring joy to people and I have been extra diligent this year. I wish you all Merry Christmas and thank you for being so strong.

You loved the holidays! You always had. Christmas was the time of joy and celebration with loved ones. The exact things that you were missing from Earth. Here in space, in a whole other galaxy, you had found a new family. Your found family made sure that you had everything you ever needed or desired, and you loved them back with your whole heart. But none of them celebrated Christmas, so you felt lonesome and nostalgic for your Christmas traditions. You rode your hover scooter through the empty halls before arriving at the mess hall for dinner. It was a bit depressing that your Christmas dinner would be the same as any other day. You were shocked out of your thoughts when you realized that the mess hall was deserted. Where was everyone? You looked around in confusion. Usually, the hall would be filled with hungry Autobots around the clock, but now the place looked abandoned. You felt even more depressed at the thought of eating your Christmas dinner all alone. You despondently made your way to your usual spot. Your eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a handwritten note on the table. 'Come to the meeting room!' They didn’t forget about you after all! Aww, how sweet they were. You were curious about what they had planned for today. You couldn't help but smile excitedly as you picked up the note and left to go where you were instructed. You arrived at the door. You could hear voices coming from inside. Was everyone there just waiting for you? You smiled to yourself. You left your scooter at the side of the door, and pressed the buzzer. The voices inside halted instantly. You put in the code and entered. You were surprised to see that it was pitch black in the room. You clapped your hands to activate the lights. What you saw took your breath away. "Merry Christmas!" Everybody cheered. You were stunned at the sight. You were expecting to see your Cybertronian friends, but instead the room was filled with humans. Humans you didn't know. You weren't that good with people back on Earth, so just how bad you were going to be with them in space? You were about to bolt, but this short stocky man approached you. He was wearing blue shield-style sunglasses. Oh God, he had a Christmas sweater on. A bright red sweater that read 'He Sees You When You're Drinking' in white bold letters. You stared at his sweater. You absolutely adored so-called ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. You didn't even know why for sure, but they were funny and quirky. You made it a tradition to check secondhand stores for rejected Christmas sweaters. When you were younger, you were teased for wearing them. Then they became popular, and even your former bullies started wearing them to ‘Ugly Christmas Sweater’ parties. You were annoyed about that, but at least now you could share your love of tacky things with others. "Hi, yes, we are happy you made it!" The man said happily in a voice you knew. You blinked. "Swerve, is that you?" "Yeah, it's me! Everyone is here also!" He said happily. He stepped closer to you. "It was mine and Rewind's idea to use our human avatars to make you feel at home. How do you like it?" Well, you were speechless and taken aback at how sweet their intentions were. You smiled and were about to answer the bartender, but then your eyes landed on him. "OhmyGod!OhmyGod! Oh! My! God!" You squealed. You quickly covered your mouth when you realized just how loud you were being. "I can't, I just can't...!" "What?? What is it?!" Swerve asked in a panic, fearing that he and others had messed up somehow and offended you. But you didn't respond. You ran straight to this tall woman wearing a beautiful purple Victorian-style dress. But it wasn't her you were squealing for. It was a toddler wearing a blue polar bear sweater with an actual crystal blue pacifier clipped to the material. The little guy even had blue sunglasses similar to Swerve’s. "E-Excuse me, Ma’am, bu-but could I hold your baby?" You asked barely keeping your composure as you looked at the little guy. The woman smiled slightly, and… Oh no, she was hot. She lifted the toddler out of the baby carrier on her chest, and offered him to you. "Hold him carefully,” she said.

You nodded as you took the toddler from her arms and pulled him close.

"Oh my God, you're so cute! Where have you been hiding all my life, you little cutie pie?"

Okay, you were totally baby-talking to the cutest child you may have ever seen. Your voice had probably raised an octave, and you weren’t worried about controlling the volume of your voice anymore. Maybe you sounded ridiculous, but your heart was mush and you had no shame.

"I'm not a baby, or whatever it is!" The child suddenly exclaimed. You blinked in surprise. You looked at the child carefully, and saw a light blue ‘T’ on the child's adorable sailor hat. And that voice...!

"Tailgate? Is that you?" You asked.

The child nodded. "Yes!"

"Oh, Tailgate..." You sighed in joyful surprise. Then you smiled even wider before hugging the mini-human. "You're so freaking cute!"

"Nooo…! I'm ferocious!" Tailgate cried.

You turned to look at the tall woman that had been holding Tailgate before. "Cyclonus?"

"That would be me,” she, no, he said. "You look amazing,” you said. "Thank you." You gave Tailgate back to Cyclonus, then turned to gaze at the rest of the holoforms mingling in the room. One by one, you recognized familiar features in these human forms. You jumped over to a tall young man, with a dark flame tattooed arm, wild auburn hair, and a handsome smile. He was wearing a short-sleeved sweater that read 'You Can Get On My Naughty List Anytime'. You grinned. "Rodimus! You look great! Very hot!" You joked, winking at him. "I know.” You giggled as Rodimus licked the tip of his digit and then pressed it to his hip, making a hissing noise. You turned to see a young lady wearing a dark blue sweater with so much text on it that you had to squint to see what was written there. 'Santa Saw Your Facebook Pictures, You're Getting Clothes And A Bible For Christmas'. Ouch. Only one mech would approve of a shirt like that. "Ultra Magnus, sir? Is that you?" You asked. The woman holoform nodded. You grinned and pointed at his sweater. "That sweater looks good on you." "Thank you. Although, I have no clue what this ‘Facebook’ is. I presume that it's a device or program that keeps records of criminals and persons of interest. That sounds like a good idea to me." You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. Instead, you clapped. "Wonderful sweater. Truly." You moved on to the next mech and--Oh! Who was this big silver fox standing before you, tall and proud in a sweater that had 'Naughty' and 'Nice' with checkboxes in front of each… but the checkbox in front of 'I Tried' was the one that was check-marked. You barely paid any attention to the text, rather watching how the sweater was stretched across his broad chest and muscled biceps... "It's Megatron,” Rodimus butted in from behind you. You nodded mindlessly, almost in a trance as you ogled the former criminal. DAMN! IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO BE THAT SEXY. The old man sighed, misinterpreting your look. "I was persuaded to use my avatar, and get some kind of ugly clothing that humans wear." "Megatron...! Wow…” you said, blinking like a deer in headlights. "Like WOW." "Yeah, yeah, we get it. So he is handsome for a human! So what!" Someone yelled. You glanced over your shoulder, and saw the most badass looking teen girl you had ever seen. She had long blue hair in pigtails, and an eyepatch over the left eye... "Whirl?!" You accidentally shouted. The girl, no, Whirl stopped pushing you away from Megatron. He struck a pose to show off to you. "Yeah, it is I, fleshie. Admit it - I look badass,” he said. You took in his dark blue sweater that read: 'Dear Santa, Define Naughty'. "I had spiked knee guards also, but Magnus said they were too much,” Whirl complained. You snorted. "What a tragedy." Whirl said some colorful words to you, but you laughed it off. You turned away, and came face-to-face with two men, one tall and dark-haired, and the other short and blond. You blinked and tilted your head, wondering who they could be. Then you noticed the camera in the blond man's hands. "Rewind! And Chromedome!" You exclaimed. They smiled at you in response. "How did you figure it out?" Chromedome asked. "Rewind's camera. Also, your matching sweaters." You laughed and pointed at their sweaters. Chromedome's said 'World's Okayest Elf' and Rewind's read 'I'm Not Short I'm Just A Tall Elf'. You smiled at them before moving through the crowd again, until you saw a man with glasses and carrot-red hair. He was certainly smart looking. You knew a few smart mechs, but you were sure you knew which one this was. "Rung! You look amazing!" The distinguished-looking man before you smiled and confirmed your guess to be right. Honestly? You would tap that ass. His sweater read: 'Santa Loves A Hot Cookie'. You giggled lightly. Then you noticed two smokin’ hot ladies that you recognized as Nautica and Velocity, and two hot men talking with them, likely Brainstorm and Perceptor. Nautica's sweater was bright purple and read: 'But First Let Me Take An #elfie'. Velocity's had a cat on it and read: 'Happy Hannukkat'. Brainstorm’s read: 'Santa Is Real In At Least 370 Alternate Realities'. And Perceptor...! Oh, Percy must have lost a bet or something, because he had a sweater that read: 'I Am Your Present', and there was an arrow that happened to be pointing at Brainstorm at any given moment. Finally, the last pair. You smiled when you saw them. Drift was a handsome young man with ink black hair. Ratchet was a scruffy-bearded man whose hair and beard were red streaked with white. Drift was wearing a sweater that said: 'While You Were Decorating The House I Studied The Blade'. Ratchet's sweater had a huge picture of Grumpy Cat that simply said 'NO'. You slowly made your way through the crowded room, making sure to say hello to everybot present. Besides being polite, you just had to check out all of the ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’. They were all amazing! You had never seen so many ‘Ugly Christmas Sweaters’ in one place! More than that, they all had been thinking about you, and how you might be missing human company. Just seeing them all gathered together made you feel like you were back on Earth for Christmas, surrounded by family and friends. You nearly cried at the thought. "Um, can I have everyone's attention?" You said, trying to raise your voice loud enough to fill the room. Every bot in a human disguise turned to look at you. You coughed awkwardly into your fist, then smiled tremulously, trying not to cry. "I just wanted to thank you all. For the amazing surprise. I love all of your sweaters – you all look great. You all are like a family to me, and I hope you feel the same way." Everyone cheered loudly. You blushed in embarrassment, but then Swerve rushed up to you, with Rung following closely behind in a more subdued manner. You smiled at both of them. "Thank you so much, you guys. I couldn't dream of a better surprise." "Oh, but this is just the beginning," Rung said with a mysterious smile. You blinked in confusion. "What?" "We just needed to buy some time while Lug and Anode finished at my place!" Swerve said. Lug and Anode…! You hadn’t seen them here at all! How could you have forgotten them?! Then Swerve took your hand in his to lead you to the next surprise. Everyone followed behind, laughing and whispering behind your back. When you entered Swerve’s, you could barely believe what you saw. Christmas decorations everywhere, gleaming and shining! You could even smell something delicious wafting in the air. "Don't tell me you cooked?" You asked in shocked disbelief. Just as you finished speaking, Lug and Anode came from the bar's backroom with their servos holding trays heaped with different Earth foods traditional for Christmas. There were also energon treats for your Cybertronian friends. Just when you were sure the party couldn't get any better, somebody put Christmas music on to play. You turned to look at the bots standing all around you. "Is it-Is it okay to eat?" Everyone gave you a clear go-ahead, so you began to take helpings of everything so as not to disappoint any of your friends that had worked so hard. Surprisingly, they had nailed it for most of the foods. Though the cranberry sauce was accidentally made with cherries, and the chocolate mousse was too sweet, they were still delicious. When you couldn’t eat any more, you thought that the good time would end there… but you thought wrong. Somehow Swerve had gotten his servos on the Cybertronian equivalent of a karaoke machine. Brainstorm and Perceptor had its files updated with all of the top hits from Earth. There were over 1,000 songs per country, so you had an overwhelming number of options. Some Christmas songs, both classic and new, were included as well. To start, Rodimus rocked the song 'The Phoenix' by Fall Out Boy. With that magnificent show of talent, charisma, and showmanship, others were then itching to get a turn of their own. Nautica, Velocity, and Rewind sang 'Bubblegum Bitch' together. Ultra Magnus sang 'It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas'. You insisted on singing a song called 'Do It For Her/Him' from Steven Universe with Cyclonus. The purple mech thought it was silly to sing a song from a human cartoon, but when he sang, he gave Tailgate meaningful looks. And you? You might have winked Megatron's way a couple of times. You were really enjoying yourself - the party was amazing. It was everything that you could have hoped for. Nothing could top this. Or so you thought, until you were asked to close your eyes and hold your arms out. "Guys, you aren't going to prank me, or do anything to me that will end up on Youtube??" You asked nervously. You heard a snicker from Rewind. "Don't worry! We won't!" "I can hear that camera rolling, Rewind!" You snapped. You jumped when something was placed in your hands. "Open your eyes." You opened one eye at first, then the other. You couldn't believe it. It was a sweater, unbelievingly soft, knitted in your favorite colors. Even better, in the middle of the oversized sweater was a large red Autobot symbol. You stared at it, eyes wide. When you finally raised your head, you had tears in your eyes. "Y-You're giving this to me?" "We had to pull some strings, and call in some favors, but yes." Rodimus smiled as bright as the sun from back home. "You're officially an Autobot now." You couldn't hold back your tears anymore. There was no greater honor than to be admitted to the Autobot order. You started to cry, but the tears were those of pure joy. You sniffled and wiped your face before looking at your dear friends. "C-Can I put it on?" They nodded, and you wasted no time. You pulled the sweater over your head, and then smoothed down your hair. The sweater was a few sizes bigger than your usual size, but that only made it comfier. You smiled, and almost wiped your nose on the sleeve, but you stopped yourself and instead used a napkin. "It's both the ugliest pretty sweater and the prettiest ugly sweater I have ever seen. I love it,” you admitted, your voice wobbly. Your fellow Autobots all said ‘Awww!’ at your emotional display. You opened your arms wide and waiting, and the bots got the idea. They all closed in for a group hug, lifting you off of your feet. You were surrounded by those you loved dearly, and you didn’t regret leaving Earth for a second. "Merry Christmas!" You all cheered, echoing each other.

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dilliebar · 4 years

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The Story of Dinah: A TLOUP2 Theory

Hey guys! So during this quarantine I’ve been looking for stuff to do to keep myself busy, and among playing The Last of Us for the billionth time I also decided to continue analyzing the content we’ve gotten so far. Tbh I gave up a while ago trying to find out what’s gonna happen in TLOU2, but after one google search, though, I actually think I’ve found a pretty solid theory that explains a lot of what we saw in the trailers/screenshots/etc.

!!! Note that this does include content from the leaked gameplay videos and from the leaked screenshot that surfaced a while ago. only read on if you’re okay with knowing spoilers !!!

**Note: I was not raised around a specific religion and my only knowledge of the subject has come from what I’ve read on the internet and the information I’ve gained from different Jewish and Christian interpretations of the passages talked about in this theory. None of these are my personal opinions and please correct me if anything is misinformed. Thank you.

So the majority of us know that something is going to happen to Dina and/or Ellie, and the first question is, what?

Well, obviously what’s different from the original game and p2 is that p2 is going to have to do a lot more with religion, as Dina is confirmed to be Jewish and we also have the Christian group, the Seraphites. The theme of religion is pretty much the basis of this theory, and it all starts with the origin of Dina’s name.

Now when you probably saw the title of this post you were like “yo that’s not how you spell her name”, and that, my friend, is where you’re wrong. After digging a little bit into the origination of Dina’s name, I found that it stemmed from the Hebrew name, Dinah. The first famous holder of this name was a woman who had a small, yet significant role in one of the books of the Jewish bible (or the Torah, please correct me if I’m wrong). Now, I would’ve written this off as a coincidence, but after looking into the story of Dinah I noticed some similarities between her story and bb Dina.

The passage basically tells the story of Dinah, who ventures out to meet the people of the world, and while doing so is sexually assaulted by the prince of Shechem. When her two brothers hear about this, they’re enraged, and slaughter all of the men in the city and rescue her.

The reason this caught my eye is because Dina and/or Ellie being sexually assaulted is a pretty common theory among the fandom right now, and after applying this to the trailers, screenshots, leaked footage, and the leaked screenshot, it makes a lot of sense, especially with Dina being Jewish. So without further ado, let’s look at what this means for the story.

I. What Happened

So if we’re following the original story of Dinah, the first thing that would happen is that Ellie and Dina head out on patrol the night after their kiss. Obviously this would mostly serve as a tutorial-like introduction, but it would also serve as the setup for the rest of the game. This is where the basement scene comes in, in which both of them are attacked and/or assaulted, and for whatever reason, they take Dina and Ellie escapes.

A lot of people have been speculating that the game revolves around the sole idea of revenge, and while Ellie’s clearly pretty jazzed off about whatever happened in the gameplay and release date trailers, it’s likely more of a “side quest” aside from her actual goal: to get Dina back. Naughty Dog games in the past, including The Last of Us, have always had a certain goal in mind that you’re working towards throughout the game. This also aligns with the story of Dinah, as she isn’t killed, but taken.

In addition to the supporting story, much of the leaked footage aligns with this, as well. For example, in the leaked gameplay in which Ellie wakes up bruised and beaten in a theater and calls out for Dina and Jesse, but why would Dina be there? If Ellie’s main goal is to get revenge on the group who wronged them, then neither Dina nor Jesse being there would make a whole lot of sense unless they all just want to have one big traumatic experience together; however, if Dina was taken, it would make sense as to why Ellie and Jesse would go after her, because they both have strong feelings for her, want to get her back, and want to seek vengeance. At the same time, by the cuts and bruises littering Ellie’s back, we can see that something clearly went down very recently, which was likely the rescue of Dina. We can also confirm that this wasn’t a dream or some wacky acid trip, too, because in the leaked screenshot we can see Ellie and Dina exploring Capitol Hill in Seattle together.

Now of course we all want to know that Ellie and Dina live happily ever-after, and this might (?) be true according to the story of Dinah, in which both of the brothers (represented here by Ellie and Jesse) return safely home with Dinah. Since this is where the story ends, is this where the game takes a twist? Possibly, but we’ll never know for sure until we play it.

II. Whodunnit?

Alright, so I’m gonna break this down into the two groups that are confirmed to be in The Last of Us 2: the Seraphites and the WLF. Though none of this is stemmed from the story of Dinah, the biblical meanings behind their names matched up pretty darn well with what we know about them already.

Now, the thing is, after trying to look up the Hebrew origination of the word “seraphite”, I found that it wasn’t actually a word at all. What I did find, however, was the definition of the word “seraph” which is “of the highest order of the nine-fold celestial hierarchy, associated with light, ardor, and purity”, with another description being a “six-winged angel”. The Latin suffix, “-ite”, means to be a follower. In other words, the Seraphites see themselves as either messengers or followers of god. This description makes a lot of sense, as in the trailer with the mystery-woman, the Seraphites say to “clip her wings” in reference to Yara.

When it comes to the WLF, the meaning behind their name is much more simple. As we can recall from the gameplay trailer, we hear the Seraphites shout out “WOLF!”. In addition to this, poster released shortly after the mystery-woman trailer portrays a wolf shaped by flames. Thus, I decided to look up the biblical meaning of a wolf, as the two groups are likely at odds. Unsurprisingly, the term “wolf” is generally used to describe those who pray on the weak.

After looking at these two groups, I concluded that the culprit is ultimately the WLF for a few reasons:

1. The meaning of the wolf in a biblical context (which was first mentioned to describe one of Dinah’s other brothers, by the way)

2. In the release date trailer, we can definitely see the attire of those who attacked the two. They’re wearing jackets; the man who initially attacked Ellie is wearing a cap. If we look at the gameplay trailer, the Seraphites distinctly wear robes, and so they are likely out of the question.

3. In the release date trailer, Tommy says “you don’t know how large that group is; how armed” all the while displaying a group of men with guns, and one verrrryyy important dude that I haven’t really seen a lot of people talking about. And that is this guy:

OK, I know, it doesn’t seem like that big of a revelation but take a look at this guy’s face, and then scroll back up to the beginning of this section. Look similar? They’ve got the same hair, skin tone, attire, etc. In addition, the people with guns in the photo also have similar attire and weaponry to those in the release date trailer. At the same time, in the basement scene, we can also see a man in similar attire and a similar skin tone holding Ellie down (though to be fair, we can’t see his face, and so this may not be the same guy, but the attire definitely separates them from the Seraphites).

Did maybe the Seraphites get a lil’ chilly and decide to wear jackets if the attacked Ellie and Dina? Maybe, but my bet’s on the WLF.

III. Patching Up the Plotholes

Alright, so this theory definitely leaves a couple of plotholes that I wanna possibly cover (though it should be noted that these are speculation):

1. As we see multiple times in both the screenshots and gameplay, Ellie entered Seattle alone. Where did Jesse come in?

2. Joel is in multiple screenshots, and also talks to Ellie in the release date trailer. What does he got to do with this?

So first of all, answering the question of where Jesse came in is fairly easy to answer, and it’s that he followed Ellie. As seen in the release date trailer, about a handful of people in Jackson left to go out on patrol other than Ellie and Dina, one of them being Jesse. Given the incident that happened in the basement, I’m guessing Ellie didn’t decide to keep scavenging for supplies and returned to Jackson early in order to recover and spread the news, which means Jesse likely wouldn’t have been back yet, and didn’t hear the news and go after Dina until he returned to Jackson. Then the question of the change in seasons comes into play. If this theory is true, I’m guessing that the basement scene took place near the end of winter, while Ellie/Jesse going to Seattle took place in early Spring, or that Ellie/Jesse left as soon as possible and the journey took longer than expected due to multiple obstacles like what happened in the first game.

Now, when it comes to Joel, I returned specifically to the story of Dinah. A while after the incident, when Jacob (the father of both Dinah and the brothers) is blessing his children, he expresses his disappointment in the two brothers as “in their anger they slew men” and “cursed be their anger, for it was fierce, and their wrath, for it was cruel”. Based on this, I believe that the multiple screenshots from the game are in the context of Joel expressing his disappointment in Ellie, as she likely went out of her way to kill more people than she had to in order to get to Dina. This also correlates to the reveal trailer in which Joel says “you really gonna go through with this?” and Ellie replies, “I’m gonna find, and I’m gonna kill, every last one of them”.

~Conclusion~

Alrighty, so that’s pretty much it. Again, I don’t know if a lot of the biblical stuff is accurate since I wasn’t raised in a strictly Jewish nor Christian household, but I was intrigued by some interpretations and frankly I really wanted to get this out and see what everyone else thought about it. Please, if you have any additional thoughts about this, correct something I said, or point out any other plotholes, leave a comment! I’m in desperate need for some TLOU2 action.

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xxisxxisxxis · 5 years

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Gateway Drug | Part Eleven

Part Ten

Pairing: Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx x OC

Word Count: 4.3K

Warnings: Mentions of drug use, violence, explicit sexual situations

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*Let me know if you want to be tagged*

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“Mom?“ I ask, paralyzed by her stare, absentmindedly moving closer to Nikki as if there’s a chance she’ll lunge for my throat and he’ll keep her off of me.

Her empty, cold, eyes study the both of us, not matching her warm smile. She’s putting on a facade and we know it.

"Sweetheart, we have been flipping over every rock in this city looking for you.” She tells me, relieved.

“You two aren’t the easiest couple to find.“ My dad adds calmly, giving me a genuine, sympathetic smile.

Nikki and I exchange looks as my mother starts tapping her foot, keeping her overbearing smile on her face as she waits for us to invite them inside.

I finally give up and step behind Nikki, giving the three of them room to come inside as I say, "You can come sit down.”

Nikki gives me a glare at my invitation to them, and I lick my lips, mouthing “sorry” to him.

“Quaint little place you’ve got here, Sweetie.” My mom points out, keeping her frozen smile as she looks over the empty alcohol containers in the garbage can and packs of cigarettes scattered about.

Although she’s still smiling, her eyes appear to be disgusted and angry, looking at Nikki as if all of this is his doing. He’s the Devil that kidnapped her perfect Vivian from grace.

She finally sits down beside my father on the couch, hesitating due to a suspicious stain on the cushion.

Her fingers brush a smooth, curled piece of her bangs out of her eyes, and she moves her knees to the side to keep herself modest in her pastel yellow dress.

“Come talk to us, dear,“ She tells me and motions for me to come sit on the coffee table in front of her.

Her eyes flitter down my exposed legs, peeping at the short pajama shorts I’m wearing, partnered with one of Nikki’s T-shirt’s that she takes notice of. But that damn smile doesn’t falter a bit.

Once I’m sitting in front of her, she’s grasping at the both of my hands, gently, trying to make me believe she’s calm when I know she wants to scream at me.

“I think we are long overdue for a talk, Vivian.” She explains, choosing her words carefully.

“I think so, too.“ I admit, trying to keep my voice calm but it’s shaking.

“We left things off on the wrong foot, you remember?” She asks, reaching to me to fix a stray hair of mine.

“Yes, ma'am.” I have no idea why she has this much power over me. Anytime I speak to her I regress into a seven year old, scared to say the wrong thing and get her in to a frenzy.

“Your father and I have been talking a lot the past few days, and we’ve decided we want you to come back home.” She informs me and I furrow my brows a little.

“What?”

“Kicking you out of the house for making your own decisions was out of line and uncalled for, is what your mother is trying to say.” My dad speaks up, leaning forward. He looks at my mother with a glaring undertone, and she brushes it off, keeping her eyes on me.

“I was a bit theatrical.” She confesses shamelessly, chuckling a little. “But I was caught off guard by it, Viv. Your whole life has been dedicated to making sure you were going to end up at a prestigious school with fine academics and a pristine performance program. We took all the proper measures to make sure you never hurt your feet so you’d have a long Ballet career, we kept your mind and your body in shape…you were so close, darling, and you suddenly decided you didn’t want to dance or go to school. All of the time and energy spent over the years for you to accomplish something and you backed out at the last minute. I got angry. Could you blame me?”

“Dance was fun to me, mom. It was a passion I had but you took it way too serious. I burnt out on it because all you ever had me doing was eating, sleeping, and breathing school and dance. And I know it requires dedication but, mom, I had no business dancing for six hours a day, every day after school.” I point out, wanting to add “which is why I skipped the last four months of practice,” but decide against it.

“You had nothing better to do.” She argues.

“I had friends to hang out with, mom. I had things I wanted to be able to do.”

Her smile falls off her face, now, replaced by her pursing her lips.

“Well, you’re certainly showing us that, now, aren’t you?” She asks me and I close my eyes for a moment. “I’m just curious as to when exactly you two met?” She asks Nikki, passive aggressively.

She doesn’t know he’s one of the few people that can’t have his arm bent behind his back until he cries “mercy” because he has absolutely nothing to lose.

They’re just staring at each other, sizing each other up, having an unspoken dick measuring contest, and I already know Nikki Sixx will win.

“We met early in the year last year.“ He replies, from his place, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

"I take it that it wasn’t at a church service.” She states, her eyes coming back to me.

“No, the Starwood.” I tell her and she raises her brows.

“After I played a show.“ Nikki adds, his eyes cutting slightly to study her reaction. She just blinks a couple of times before speaking.

"Young man, my husband and I would like to speak to our daughter alone for a few minutes, if you would so kindly give us a moment.” Her tone is bitter, contradictory to her words.

Nikki hesitates, and I give him a reassuring nod. No matter how scared I get of my mother at times, I’d never ask him to endure one of her tantrums just so I’d feel more comfortable.

He gives her a dirty look before grabbing his cigarettes and stepping outside.

As soon as he’s gone, my mother’s pulling a folded up news paper clipping out of her purse.

“‘Mötley Crüe lead singer, Vince Neil, publicly poked fun at the ill fitting fact that one of the sleaziest Rockstars on the Sunset Strip, the band’s bassist—Nikki Sixx—is happily accepting the ball and chain and is scheduled to be married later this year to Vivian Kinston, while on stage.’“ She reads from the article before tossing it to the coffee table right beside me. "I can take you not being completely honest with us and dropping out of college. Every teenager rebels a little bit at some point and not going to college right after high school is not the worst thing you could have done, regardless of how I reacted to it, no, it is not as bad as I made it seem and I do apologize for my overreaction.” She says quickly, completely beside herself before she continues. “But this,” She motions around, referring to my living situation. “Is far beyond a little teenage rebellion, Vivian. And you know as well I, that living with a man—who openly disrespects our God—and making a mockery out of the sanctity of the marriage bed, is blasphemous.”

“Charlette,” My dad starts in a relaxed tone, trying to calm her down.

“She is sleeping with that boy!” She points to the front door Nikki just went out of moments before.

I’m humiliated by her words, Pastor Garett seemingly burning his eyes in to my soul.

“We don’t know that.” My father tries to defend me, earning a scoff of disbelief from my mother.

“That boy and everyone like him only live for three things: sex and drugs and ungodly music. He has a plethora of drugs and music so the sex isn’t far from the equation. I am not ignorant.”

“His name is ‘Nikki’, mom. I’m marrying him so he is so much more than just 'that boy’ you speak of as if he’s a disease.” I state boldly.

“You are not marrying that boy, Vivian. You are coming home with me and your father and you will attend as many counseling sessions with Brother Garrett that you need to in order to rid yourself of this disobedient demon clinging to you!”

“There’s no demon clinging to me! I haven’t completely thrown away God or turned my back on him, I still have relationship with him and—”

“You can have the entire bible memorized front and back, go to every church service at every church in the area that there will ever be but it doesn’t make a difference to God, or anyone else, when you come home every night and play house with the Devil!”

“I am not perfect, mom, and God doesn’t expect me to be perfect but I am doing the best that I can given the circumstances!”

“You weren’t given these circumstances of dousing yourself in impurity and uncleanliness, you dove head first in to it!”

“You kicked me out of the house and I had nowhere else to go but to Nikki, so yes, mom, I was given these circumstances!”

“So I suppose I am to blame for you having sex with him, too?! All of this is on me now, is that it?!”

“What he and I do—whether it’s have sex or get married—is between us and God, and you have no right and no place to go out of your way to try to control it!”

“It is my job as your mother to make sure you are doing what God would have you do and you’re obviously not listening to a thing he’s been trying to say because you’ve been too busy running around the Sodom and Gomorrah that is the Sunset Strip with your hand down the pants of a fool—who could care less about you, might I add—and you know this is not what we do, Vivian.”

“Stop talking. Just because it’s something you wouldn’t choose to do doesn’t mean it’s something I shouldn’t do.” I say, my blood burning as she doesn’t listen.

I quickly realize it’s a fear of my mother that’s kept me from being sure about Nikki, and this further fuels my resentment towards her.

“All of this is just a game to him, Viv. They love seeing who can corrupt the most honest girl and then when she’s strung out or ends up pregnant, they leave.” She replies venomously, stepping closer to me.

“Charlette, enough of this.” My dad cuts in, grasping at her but she snatches away from him.

“You’ve already dropped your education and career for him. You’ve bent your morals and orders, given to you by the Lord, for him…”

I don’t want to hear anymore, standing up and walking to the door before she follows and grabs my wrist, stopping me, choosing her words purposefully to get a reaction out of me the way she always does.

“…You have allowed him to get in to your head and convince you to be of the world instead of just in it and history has an ugly way of repeating itself. This is looking an awful lot like the beginning of Lily’s end.”

This is the last straw.

Seeing red, belligerence and lost patience fuels my movements as I scream, wrapping my hands around her throat and tackling her on to the coffee table, roughly.

Liquid splashes over my bare legs, and I hear Brother Garrett shouting out scriptures and praying in tongues.

My fight is interrupted by familiar hands grabbing at my waist and yanking me away from her.

Nikki stumbles back, taking me to the floor with him, but he doesn’t remove his tight grip around my torso as my mother cries out and wails in my father’s arms.

I’m so wound up that I’m shaking uncontrollably, my entire body prickling with heat and sweat as my skin warms up with adrenaline and anger. My back is pulled in to Nikki’s torso as his arms wrap around me to keep me in place.

My mother’s crying further spurs on my intolerance and I heave out heavy breaths.

“Get. Her. Out. Of. Here.” I say through clenched teeth to my father.

“Vivian—” He goes to argue but is stop him.

“Get her out!“ I demand, causing him to startle a little bit before he and Garrett are going as quickly as they can to the door, guiding my discombobulated mother along with them.

They leave us in the aftermath of a wasted effort.

It quickly hits me that I just viciously attacked the woman who birthed me and raised me, and I take in a sharp breath, Nikki’s arms loosening from around me as we sit in silence.

“I just tried to kill my mother.” I croak out, my voice raspy and raw from screaming so much, shattering the silence around us.

“I got mine arrested.” He replies and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, trying to cheer me up.

“If one of us ever turns in to our mothers, we have to kill the other.” I say lowly.

He doesn’t respond, his lips pressing to my hair and I lean my head against his chest, trying to accept the fact I’m no longer my parent’s daughter. I’m officially freed of my chains.

I never spoke to my mother again. I expected her to take me to court for assaulting her, but she never did. I learned sooner after she became one of the loudest voices supporting the Washington Wives, using me as her testimony and claiming that Mötley seduced me to sell my soul to the Devil in exchange for fame and wealth, the way that they did.

I wanted to write her and ask her where exactly was the “wealth” we sold our souls for because, at the time, we were barely able to pay our phone bills.

In the months to follow, the guys had managed to open for Kiss, but only opened for five shows before Gene Simmons kicked them off the tour for “bad behavior”…a.k.a Tommy screwed Eric Carr’s girlfriend and it wasn’t appreciated.

I, eventually, was no longer worried about my parents seeing or hearing what exactly I was doing, so I started going out with the guys a lot more often, which was a blessing and a curse.

May of ‘83 came around in the blink of an eye, and America was finally meeting Mötley Crüe at their biggest show to date.

The thunder of the echoing voices speaking excitedly on the other side of the curtains rattles through the atmosphere backstage.

“We’re gonna fuckin’ die.” Mick states, matter of fact, and I frown at him.

I can practically feel the anxiety and nervousness rolling off Nikki, Tommy and Mick, as we wait with Doc in the small hallway for Vince to get done in the dressing room.

“Boys,” Tom says as he approaches us. “On behalf of Elektra Records, I just wanna wish you good luck tonight.”

Nikki gives him a small nod before going back to looking around anxiously.

“Where’s Vince?” Tom asks and Doc replies before anyone else can.

“Just saw him in the dressing room, getting ready.” Doc tells him.

“Well, this is your first big show and there’s 18,000 people out there tonight, so…please don’t fuck this up.“ Tom looks at the three of them as if that helps any with the pressure already on them.

"Thanks, Tom.” Doc gives him a fake smile and once Tom’s out of earshot, Doc’s smile falls from his face. “Fuck all that.” He tells them sternly. “You guys just do what you do.”

Just as he says this, Tommy drops the drumstick he’s been twirling, which he never does.

“Fuck!” He whisper yells as Doc and Mick chuckle, picking up the drumstick.

“Jesus Christ,“ Nikki nervously whispers, motioning for Mick and Tommy to start heading towards the stage.

"You guys will be fine.” I assure Nikki, nudging his arm with my elbow as we walk to the steel stairs.

He doesn’t seem to believe me and I bite my lip before unclasping my crucifix and hand it to him.

“It helps me be less nervous.” I explain as he examines the small, diamond cross carefully before putting it on. It doesn’t necessarily match with his overzealous costume but he doesn’t seem to care, slinging his arm around my neck as he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to my lips.

Just as he’s pulling away, I see Tom’s girlfriend stepping from the hallway the dressing rooms are, joining Tom who’s oblivious to where she came from as Vince comes from the same hall, fixing his pants and sprinting so he won’t be late.

Nikki notices this, too.

“Vinnie, c'mon, man. Let’s go!” Nikki claps once as Vince laughs out, running up the stairs.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You do realize we just signed a record deal with his company and that fucking his girlfriend could seriously fuck that up?” Nikki asks him in a hushed voice, obviously unhappy.

“Only if he finds out, man.” Vince replies with a wide smile, pretty proud of himself.

Nikki looks at me as if trying to decide whether to be proud of Vince’s balls, or kill him for being so thoughtless.

“He won’t find out. It will be fine.” I assure him. “Everything is okay. You guys can do this, I know you can.” I add, giving them one last smile before turning to walk away and give them their little moment, and he exhales just as Tommy’s throwing the top half of his body over the railing of the balcony, throwing up.

“Seriously,” Mick says, shaking his head. “We’re gonna die.”

“I’m okay!” Tommy pipes once he’s finished, swishing alcohol around his mouth to get rid of the puke taste.

“Alright, c'mon, gather round guys.” Nikki starts, getting them to huddle together.

I’m not sure exactly what he says to them, all I hear is “we are Mötley fucking Crüe! So let’s destroy these motherfuckers!”

The announcer is soon introducing them to the crowd as they step out and everyone in the audience goes absolutely insane.

I join Tom, his girlfriend, and Doc to watch the performance from the sidelines, saying a silent prayer in my head for them to do well so they won’t screw their careers up before they even leave the starting line.

They start playing, and Vince comes over the microphone, saying:

“Title track from our up and coming album! We call it, 'Shout at the Devil’!”

The crowd goes even more wild and I listen to the song intently, mainly because Nikki won’t let me hear any of their new music until the album is complete.

Once they’re done with their performance, Nikki’s rushing to me, excitedly.

“You guys did so—”

I’m cut off by a bruising kiss, the two of us trying to contain our smiles as he pulls away.

“What was that for?” I ask him, wiping some of his smeared lipstick from around his mouth. He just gives me a devious smirk, and picks me up by my thighs, tossing me over his shoulder.

I laugh, clinging to him as he runs to the hall with the dressing rooms in it.

“Nikki, where ya goin’?!” Doc calls after us, probably wanting to give the guys an encouraging speech or something.

“We’ll be there in a second!” I answer for Nikki, hearing him open the door of his dressing room.

Once we’re inside, he’s sliding me off from his shoulder and pinning my body against the door, pushing the hem of my skirt up my thighs and I let out a shallow breath, wrapping my legs around his waist as our tongues move in sync, one of my hands gripping his bicep while the other rests against his face.

He yanks my hair to the side to expose my neck, his tongue sliding against the skin and I moan, my hand groping at the tent in his leather pants, causing him to groan lowly which ignites a strong sensation between my legs. My other hand fumbles with his belt buckle, the sparkling of my crucifix catches my eye, though and I stop for a moment.

“Wait, wait,” I gasp out for breath and he pulls away a little, his lips brushing against mine.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and I shake my head a little, blinking slowly.

“This needs to come off,” I take my necklace off of him and toss it on to the vanity a few feet away.

“Yeah, so does this,“ he mumbles against my lips, tugging at my g-string and I giggle as he pulls it down my legs so I can unwrap myself from him momentarily to get it off.

He tosses the fabric to the floor and I yank his belt loose, unlacing his pants as his fingers make no hesitation slide up and down my sex, teasing me until I’m barely able to do anything but grind against his hand and claw at his clothed chest.

Taking my hand from his shirt, he lifts my fingers to his lips, enclosing his mouth around my point finger, his tongue and teeth moving torturously slow around it as he buries himself in me to the hilt.

My mouth falls open, his eyes locked with mine as a slick, open mouth grin forms around my finger, his teeth keeping it from falling.

He drops my hand and wraps his hand around my throat, pounding in to me. My already tender flesh is abused further, not yet recovered from our last session earlier today.

"Oh, fuck, Nikki,” I breathe out, my teeth digging in to my lip to keep from being too loud as my nails scratch down his arms.

“You have such a filthy mouth,” He says pointedly, a throaty noise of satisfaction wrapped around his words.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shoot back weakly, still managing to argue with him.

Before I know it, he’s putting one of my legs over his shoulder, allowing him to hit at a different angle, and a slew of curse words fall from my lips as tears building up in my eyes.

“God, you’re so fuckin’…“ he’s unable to finish his sentence, looking between us to watch himself push and pull in and out of me, roughly.

Heat swelters in my core, my toes trying to curl in my strapped heels and I tighten around him further.

"Nikki, I can’t do this, it’s too much.” I whine, a tear rolling down my face once he’s reaching between us and rubbing at the sensitive nerve endings to force my orgasm out of me.

“You’re gonna let every fuckin’ one know who the fuck you belong to.“ He borderline threatens and I let out high pitches whimpers with each stroke of his fingers and stretch of my walls as he pulls out of me, only to push back in, filling me up completely as if my body’s been created specifically for his.

My body reacts to his touch, my lips practically screaming out his name in choked sobs as he bites down on my shoulder, opting me to finish around him.

My forehead falls to his shoulder, exhaustion leaking from every pore of mine.

He releases, coating my insides, the two of us staying still for a moment as I try to recollect my hazy mind, completely wasted from the amount of adrenaline and Nikki coursing through me.

By the time we get home at three in the morning, Nikki’s doped up on quaaludes, wine and whiskey, barely making it to the bed without face planting.

“Oops,” He slurs as I help him catch his balance on the foot of the bed.

“You good?” I ask, and he waves me off.

“I gotta…” he trails off, rubbing at his eye like a sleepy child. “…it.” He motions to his side of the bed before tripping over himself and falling on the mattress on his stomach, nearly passing out there.

“No, you don’t got it.” I mumble softly, tugging at his boots and helping him crawl to his side of the bed.

He’s out of it by the time his head hits the pillow and I can’t help but smile to myself a moment.

How in the hell did I get here? If someone would have told me three years ago I’d be engaged to someone like Nikki Sixx, I’d think they were out of their mind.

I change in to a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank too before heading to the bathroom to get my makeup off.

Once I’m done, I stare at myself in the mirror, rubbing my swollen lips together, looking over the apparent bite mark on my shoulder that Tommy and Vince wouldn’t let me live down at all tonight.

I chuckle, remembering their teasing, before a more serious topic resurfaces in my mind. Not able to help myself, I open the bathroom cabinet and sift through all of the clutter of miscellaneous, reaching for what I’m looking for in the very back corner of the cabinet. I’m careful not to drop it once I grab ahold of it.

I sit on the floor and look down at the mirror of the pregnancy predictor, seeing the red ring that I stared at for three hours after the positive result had first shown up last night.

My eyes drift to the plain, silver band on my ring finger, feeling a calmness instead of uneasiness like I had before.

Words that Nikki had spoken to me the last day I saw my mother, echos in my mind:

“It sucks but we’ll be fine. We’re Nikki and Viv. Things always turn out okay for us, somehow.”

I feel as if he might’ve been right.

#nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #the dirt #mötley crüe #douglas booth #colson baker #daniel webber #the dirt movie #douglas booth!nikki sixx

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lpdwillwrite4coffee · 4 years

Text

BLOODY SUNRISE CHAPTER EIGHT

The next day was a floor of eggshells spread over unknown landmines.

Caitlin spent most of her time outside, insisting she help Constance with the household chores. Breakfast, followed by dishes, then laundry while Jeremiah taught his version of Sunday school to their children. He’d extended the offer to Booker, but he politely declined, saying instead he would happily go around the property to check their perimeter lines and security.

Jeremiah thanked him, and as Booker started off, he cast Caitlin a glance.

He was checking the perimeter alright… Looking for the best place to sneak through if and when the time came.

Caitlin made cheerful small talk with Constance as they hung laundry to dry, all the while thankful for the gift Booker had given her tucked into her sock—a folding pocket knife he’d sharpened before dawn.

Lunchtime came and the children all milled around, some playing, some checking the small garden along the side of the house or discussing if they should make a trip to a fishing hole soon.

Caitlin declined eating, saying she wasn’t very hungry. The truth was, she didn’t want to sit alone in their dining room with the heavy watch of Jeremiah on her.

Ever since their marriage story, he’d never fully taken his gaze off her when she was around. And like a rabbit in a pen with dogs, she was hyper aware of his attention.

He didn’t trust her. Didn’t like her. Probably disapproved of everything about her, from her hair, to her jeans, to the cut of her V-neck tee-shirt.

Just like her stepdad once upon a time.

She saw the same hard glint in Jeremiah’s eyes. The look of a man who was attracted and repulsed simultaneously.

She wondered how he’d react if she quoted Jesus’ pronouncement to pluck thine own eyes out if the sight of something created such dangerous lust in a man.

Probably not well.

Booker returned before dinner, carrying a possum he caught.

“I’m not eating that,” she said firmly.

He chuckled, holding up the lifeless animal. “What? It’s good meat.”

“Nope.” She swiftly turned and started for the house.

“Don’t tell me you’re on a diet now.”

Caitlin gasped, offended, and glared at him. “Jackass,” she muttered as he laughed behind her.

Entering the kitchen, she found herself alone with Jeremiah and any lightheartedness she felt crumbled.

“Afternoon,” Jeremiah said, voice a little too deep to be friendly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Nonsense. I was just havin’ a glass of tea,” he said, swirling the drink around. “Have some.”

The eggshell floor under her feet started to feel like a landmine. This was the trick, wasn’t it? Giving the right response, the pleasing response, the submissive response. Which would make him happier—to have her refuse and get to add another thing to his list that made her ‘unsuitable and wrong’ or for her to accept and force her to spend time with him, around him, pinned by his dominance and open for inquisitions?

Caitlin smiled tightly. “If you’re sure.”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

Landmine momentarily avoided.

She took a tentative step closer and picked up the glass pitcher. “Thank you.”

Silently, he watched her pour a small amount into a glass and bring it to her lips.

“Haven’t seen ya in the house much,” Jeremiah commented.

Caitlin sipped her tea. “I like being outside.”

“Seems t’me y’all’ve been outside plenty.”

She couldn’t come up with a reply fast enough—Not one that danced the line he was rapidly moving.

“I hope my Bible teachin’s weren’t offendin’ your modern woman sensibilities.”

First direct jab. It wouldn’t be his last, she knew.

Caitlin offered a polite smile. “No, not at all. What you teach your family isn’t any of my business.”

His eyes darkened for a moment and she knew. She knew she’d tripped on that line.

Her stomach swooped, as if the floor fell out from under her.

“I’d think the wife of a godly man such as your husband would be interested in the word of the Lord.”

Her mind froze. She was panicking. She needed to keep calm, regain her footing, he wasn’t her stepfather, he didn’t have power—

“You’d prob’ly learn a thing or two about bein’ an obedient wife.”

Caitlin set her glass down on the table. “Thank you for the tea. I’m gonna see if Booker needs help.”

“’M sure my sons have helped him. They’re good like that.”

Another trap.

“Still. I’m just going to go check on him.”

She didn’t hesitate. Turning on her heel, she strode out of the kitchen with even steps but she felt like she was fleeing.

Booker was in the yard, squatting down by a tree with a metal bucket next to him.

She nearly jogged over, refusing to look back. She knew Jeremiah was watching.

“Y’might not wanna come over here,” Booker said, still looking down at the possum he was cleaning. “Don’t wanna upset your delicate sensibilities.”

He’d said it as a joke, unaware of how the word had been used against her just moments earlier.

“To hell with my sensibilities, Booker,” she snapped.

That got him to look up, and as soon as he did, he made a move to stand.

She motioned for him to stay.

“Don’t. I think he’s watching.”

“Who?”

“Who the fuck do you think?” she whispered.

Despite the fury etching into her face, she slipped into playing the wife part, running her hand over Booker’s shoulder in a display of affection she knew would be visible from the porch.

“Cae?” He stared up at her, knife still lodged in the possum’s gut.

Before she could answer, the screen door swung open and the heavy steps of Jeremiah announced his presence.

“Y’catch us somethin’ for supper?”

Caitlin’s eyes squeezed shut. The trembling started in her hands, and she had to fight not to grip the plaid shirt under her fingers.

Booker glanced around her but didn’t move. He knew he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

“Yessir,” he called. “I hope y’all don’t mind possum.”

Jeremiah laughed, and Caitlin struggled not to jerk.

“Not at all, son. Constance’ll fix that up nice for us.”

Booker smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. She waited for the sounds of Jeremiah retreating into the house, but they never came. Instead he groaned as he sat in one of the porch rockers.

“Easy,” Booker whispered to her. “It’s alright.”

It was then she realized she was shaking down to her ankles.

“Did he do somethin’?”

Caitlin shook her head. “No, he… It’s fine.”

“Cae…”

“Teach me,” she said suddenly, lowering onto her knees by the metal bucket. “I gotta… Just give me something else to think about.”

Booker eyed her. “Y’wanna learn to clean possum?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

She hoped he understood why.

I can’t trust my own mind.

I can’t go back inside.

Please just help me forget.

Booker didn’t argue. Instead he started talking—walking her through it all, step by gory step.

She clung to the timbre of his voice like a life raft.

The past is the past. It’s all in your head. He can’t hurt you.

“We’ll leave,” Booker said quietly, scooping innards into the bucket. “First thing tomorrow.”

Relief washed over her, ripping a broken laugh out of her tightened throat. It was a jagged sound, like a broken wind chime.

“Okay.”

He nodded and held her gaze for a beat longer than usual.

You’re safe.

***

They were in the middle of supper when the first thunder clap tore through the sky.

The storm rolled in swiftly, rain first and then splintering winds. More thunder shook the house to the foundation.

“That’s a nasty storm,” Jeremiah said, going to the window.

Constance sent the eldest boys to check all the shutters upstairs, and then sent the younger children to fetch candles and matches.

“I sure hope that’s not a tornado,” she said, clearing plates from the table.

Caitlin grabbed Booker’s arm under the table, genuine fear causing her vision to blur at the edges.

“Good thing y’all are in here with us, huh?” Jeremiah said, coming back to the table. “Hate to think what’d happen if y’all were out in it.”

She saw his gaze shift, from her to Booker and then back to her. But he wasn’t making eye contact, he was checking if Booker was paying attention.

When his stare dropped to the inch of cleavage visible from her neckline, she felt it like a hot ember.

Caitlin immediately looked to his youngest daughter—Mary, with the pigtails and pink dress. She was so innocent, so fragile… and in constant danger.

The storm only got worse as the night went on. The children played board games to pass the time. Jeremiah took it upon himself to read aloud from the Old Testament.

He had her trapped inside now. He’d be sure to rattle her ‘modern woman sensibilities’ with scripture.

Booker smiled as he agreed to play with the children when they asked if he’d be their fourth player. It was a momentary bright spot, watching him making the younger boy and girl giggle as they moved their pieces around the board.

Constance got up to finish cleaning and Caitlin followed her, insisting on helping.

Anything to relieve the clawing panic inside her mind.

If the storm didn’t let up, they couldn’t leave. If they couldn’t leave, they were trapped inside. If they were trapped, she didn’t have anywhere to hide. Jeremiah’s contempt was showing more frequently. It was only a matter of time before...

Caitlin shoved her hand into the scalding hot water to rinse the dish she held and didn’t flinch.

“Oh, careful sweetheart,” Constance said, tapping her wrist. “That’s hot, you’ll hurt yourself.”

She blinked. “Oh, I…”

She’d talked about dissociation in therapy. Hadn’t thought much about any of her past traumas since zombies had started walking the earth.

But as the raging storm made clear, she was stuck in a house of her own nightmares.

I need to get a grip, she thought as she scrubbed the plates of possum-pot-pie.

“I know it can be hard,” Constance murmured. “Bein’ away from family. Unsure if they’re alright.”

Caitlin looked to the woman and nodded.

“My sister is in Mobile,” Constance said. “I pray for her safety every day.”

“Mobile isn’t too far, is it?”

Constance shook her head.

“Did you think about going to get her, or…” Caitlin trailed off, realizing she sounded accusatory. “I mean. Were you able?”

“We thought it best to come straight here,” Constance said. “Better for the children. Go ‘head and set up camp, protect ourselves from those… things.”

On one level, Caitlin understood the reasons. Didn’t blame them.

But on another, she heard ‘isolation, removal, destruction of family bonds’ and it made her skin crawl.

She replied with the only honest thing she could. “I’m glad you and your children are okay.”

They were alive, for now.

They were still human, for now.

There was still hope.

***

The storm shook more than the house. Caitlin’s nerves were shot, and she knew she’d need her strength for the next day.

Excusing herself, she trudged upstairs and headed straight for bed.

She’d just sat on the mattress when the door opened, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Hey, it’s me,” Booker said, shutting the door behind him.

“Shit, you scared me.”

“Sorry.” In the dark she could still see him move towards her. “Y’alright?”

“No,” she answered honestly. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

The mattress sunk as he sat on his side, twisted to look at her. “Never seen somebody itchin’ to leave safe shelter and a warm bed…”

��This is not safe shelter, Jack,” she snapped. “This is a fucking time bomb.”

“Alright, just…”

She could barely make out his shape as he reached for her, calloused hand on her bicep.

“Don’t treat me like I’m crazy. I’m not crazy,” she said, pulling out of his hold.

“Darlin’ I don’t think you’re crazy—”

“Don’t call me that.”

He huffed. “Back to that now, huh.”

If he could have seen her face, he would have dropped dead.

“I know exactly what kind of man Jeremiah is. I don’t need your fucking validation.”

With that, she laid down and immediately rolled onto her side, away from Booker.

“Cae…”

She ignored him, too furious to speak.

Quietly, Booker slid into bed next to her, keeping as much distance between them as possible.

“As soon as the storm lifts, we’ll leave.”

She didn’t hold her breath.

#Bloody Sunrise #free novels for pandemic times #free fiction #my writing #ZA romance #zombie apocalypse romance

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suttonfm · 5 years

Text

greetings , angels , i’m back AGAIN with a second muse , the lovely sutton marie attwood ! i have so much muse for sutton , seeing as she is a character i have been itching to bring to life for a long time ! i’m very excited for you all to read more about her , so without further ado , please take a gander below the cut , & for plotting purposes , make sure you give this post a big phat LIKE if you would like me to message / im you . enjoy reading about my presh ballerina :’ ))

𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

⋆ ╰ another year at hollingsworth , another year of the big six rivalry . i hear that SUTTON ATTWOOD is ensuring KAPPA KAPPA DELTA gets a solid pledge class and stays at the top of the ranks . oh , you’re not familiar with HER ? SUTTON is the BRIDGET SATTERLEE look alike from BOSTON , MASSACHUSETTS . apart of PC ‘16 , she is majoring in PERFORMING ARTS and has plans to JOIN THE BOSTON BALLET after undergrad . it makes sense they pledged their house , their BENEVOLENT & DOCILE attributes make them perfect matches . however , their SUBMISSIVE & NAIVE attributes keep their name alive on greek rank . if you don’t catch them dancing to GET WELL SOON - ARIANA GRANDE at a fraternity band party this year , you’ll be sure to catch them nursing their morning hangover at THE KAPPA HOUSE . cheers to another wild semester !

𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓭𝔂

𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤 & 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖𝕤

so ! sutton has a wide array of things she likes : long walks in the park , puppies that are learning how to run , freshly sharpened number two pencils , the smell of an old book , baby clips , leather mary janes , dainty jewelry , bubble baths , pink or creme roses , daffodils , heart - shaped lollipops . she dislikes cursing , mean - spirited people , drinking alcohol / doing drugs , vulgarity / explicit conversation . she also hates having to walk alone at night , when she misses church , & all red meat .

if you want a lil’ more of her general aesthetic , click HERE for her pinterest board , loves !

𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖 𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪

lovely lil’ sutton .... where do i even start JSLDKAJSDLKJ ok so ... she’s . angelic vibes all 2019 , ok ? she’s wholesome , pure of heart , & overall , is one of the kindest people that anyone at hollingsworth will come across . her overall demeanor is docile , quiet , the girl usually keeping to herself , opting to stay quiet when facing confrontation or a new , strange situation . her voice is a lil deeper , not so much pealing bells , but something with a bit of a rasp , accented by the bostonian lilt to everything she says . she’s irish - catholic , her family being very devoted to their faith , & passing that on to her ... she’s always wearing her cross , & making sure her general attire is conservative enough for the lord ( lordt salkdjad ) . i’m talking tights , white ruffled socks , the whole nine : / she’s also ! very smart , well - read , writing poems & reading old novels . currently , she plays the piano , & is on hollingsworth’s dance team ! she’s very disciplined as a lifetime ballerina , her life revolving around the entire process . she’s devoted , loyal , kind , & overall just ! a lil angel ; _ ; so pls love her : (

𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

sutton attwood was born the youngest of four children , to her mother marie , and her father , alexander . marie and alexander had been married for the last twenty - seven years , having kids in their younger years , happily in love , ready to start a family . after her three siblings were born , there was a long gap until her own arrival , an accident that her parents had no reason to expect . but she came anyway , arriving into the attwood family , lungs aching as she cried & cried .

as a young girl , sutton was very well - behaved , but also very sensitive . she was careful to mind her manners , knowing the consequence of having her elbows on the table , or neglecting to fold her napkin across her lap . her parents had high standards & expectations , strict rules that they enforced to ensure their daughter stayed within the mold of the rest , the two of them scared that , with sutton being the anomaly , she may have the tendency to try to break from the restraints they had confined the rest of their kids in .

for most of her adolescence , the girl was extremely confined , repressed ; she had no way of exhibiting her freedom , expression , or creativity , except for one thing -- ballet . she had started as soon as she could walk , her parents having her join on the premonition it would be a good outlet for her , a way to teach her the discipline they were sure she would need . little did they know she would end up loving ballet , naturally poised for such a difficult art form , her grace & athleticism preceding her wildest dreams as she continued to train & train , changing dance companies over the years as she became better & better .

being raised irish - catholic , she has a strict church schedule , attending mass every saturday with her whole family , & sometimes during the week to help her church organize youth groups , bible study , & activities of the same ilk . being heavily involved in the church only served to reinforce her parents warnings , the people around her sure to remind her that if she were to sin , she was damned to an eternity of suffering . with that in mind , sutton always navigated the world as carefully as she could . her overall mindset was to stay out of trouble , avoiding temptation as she came across it . her will power is something that she praises herself for , being able to resist drugs , sex , & alcohol her entire life .

due to her kind demeanor , she has the tendency to be taken advantage of , her niceness taken as weakness over the years as people took the chance to belittle or berate her , but despite it , her exterior has never hardened , the girl’s heart forever warn & displayed on her sleeve .

since coming to hollingsworth , the girl has done her best to maintain her pristine image , her reputation untainted by the things a college experience may promise to tarnish . but somehow , she’s sidestepped trouble up until now -- senior year . as a kappa , she has the intention only to maintain her house’s top spot , her competitive nature from dancing making it so that her kindness isn’t always necessarily extended to the members of other sororities , but a part of her can’t help but still smile in other girl’s directions , happy to have them as a friend instead of an enemy . the cutthroat mentality of kappa house is overwhelming , but with chaise as president , sutton is even more nervous to see what happens .

with the promise of new experiences on the horizon , sutton intends to keep up the good work . to maintain her 4.0 gpa , to keep her virginity & promise to god intact , & to continue dancing without having any drama . whose gonna tell her .....

𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷𝓼

tbh ! i want her BEST FRIEND , one - sides friendship ( i . e . sutton bothering them & always being nice , inevitably driving them crazy ) , her CRUSH ( this is a big one bcos ... well ... v*rgin or what not jlkjlajskdjaldaj but yes could be mutual / one - sided ) , someone she tutors bcos she’s a smart gal ! her confidant , her ex - best friend ( maybe dropped her bcos when they came into the college they were both wholesome & they gave into the whole greek lifestyle , losing themselves / sutton along the way :/ ) um ! i can’t think of anything else rn but u know me ... lets go off chem <3 ok , that’s all for now , folks !

#╰ ❥ disconnected so sometimes i feel frozen . / 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓼 .#rank:intro #!!!!!!!!!!!!#pls come plot w your girl : /#i tried to make it shorter than the first one so it's not just all word vom so <3 ily

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verypersonalscreencaps · 5 years

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'I’ve never sought fame so I’m loving it ... I hope it lasts!': As she returns in the hit BBC sitcom Mum, Lesley Manville reveals how a surprise Oscar nomination finally made her hot in Hollywood at 63

By COLE MORETON FOR EVENT MAGAZINE PUBLISHED: 22:01, 27 April 2019

'I can’t believe this late flourish that I’m having,’ says Lesley Manville, beaming with happiness. ‘It just keeps on giving!’

She’s about to star in the third and final series of the brilliant BBC comedy Mum, playing the kind and loving widow Cathy, surrounded by a family of not-always-lovable fools, and slowly falling for her old friend Michael. It’s hugely popular, for reasons Event’s TV critic Deborah Ross explains below, but that’s not all. Suddenly, to her own astonishment, at the age of 63, Manville is Hollywood hot property.

‘I don’t really share this much, except to my very close friends, because you’ve got to let off steam to somebody about how extraordinary it is,’ says Manville, hand fluttering briefly as if to fan herself. ‘And the enormity of how it has shifted things. Everything has changed.’

Scripts and offers are flooding in since she was Oscar-nominated for her role in Daniel Day-Lewis’s 2018 film, Phantom Thread. After decades of working ‘under the radar’ – as she puts it – in the theatre, on television and in Mike Leigh movies such as High Hopes, Secrets & Lies and Another Year, Manville was thrust into the brightest spotlight of all. ‘I got to go to the Oscars with my sister and my son!

‘But, oh my God, it was a mad dash. I was on stage in the West End on the Saturday, got home at midnight, only had time to wash my hair and catch two hours’ sleep, then I was on a plane in the early hours.’ The Oscars were that Sunday night. ‘I got there with an hour-and-a-half to get ready.’

She rarely gives interviews and hasn’t talked about this publicly before, but there was something else remarkable about that night – her ex-husband Gary Oldman was also up for an Oscar, for his role as Sir Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour. The Hollywood media went wild at the idea of divorcees being nominated at the same time, and there was even talk of ‘fisticuffs on the red carpet’ – particularly since he had walked out on her in 1989, when their child Alfie was only three months old.

‘I had a son to bring up,’ she says, sounding matter-of-fact rather than bitter after all these years. ‘I was 32 and I had a baby. I wanted to carry on working and I did. I must have been knackered. I was up at dawn and looked after Alfie all day. Then my sister, who was working for me, would come and do teatime and bedtime. I’d go to do Miss Julie or Top Girls. Nice light plays!’

Somehow she gave her all to those far from light works. ‘I wouldn’t have had it any other way. I never wanted to stop working. And also I didn’t want to be a slovenly mother – not bothering, just phoning in motherhood because I was working. I wanted to be the best mother, with a proper meal on the table every night, and proper things in the lunchbox. All of that. And I’ve done it. That’s my biggest achievement, I think.’

Did she feel that way because Gary had abandoned them? ‘No, I’m just like that – I’m quite a perfectionist in my life and my work.’

That’s easy to imagine. Manville is friendly and engaging but happily describes herself as ‘a control freak’ and looks very much like she’s got it together in her chic, cream baggy pants with matching boots, Breton striped top and leather jacket. She speaks with the diction and bearing of someone who has spent a lifetime on the stage. Does Alfie appreciate what she did for him? ‘Oh, yes. We’ve got a really nice relationship. We do argue, but we’re very close.’

Oldman later admitted that work and alcoholism had made him ‘anxious, neurotic and hell to live with’ – but he moved in with the much younger Uma Thurman soon after taking off to America. His fifth wife, Gisele Schmidt, attended the Oscars with him, while Manville is single and walked the red carpet with Alfie, now a cameraman. So just how awkward was this public reunion?

‘Gary and I are fine. We’re friends. We’re more than fine. People wanted to make something of it that didn’t exist. Christ almighty, we’re 60. We’ve got a 30-year-old son. Come on!’ She does understand why there was such interest. ‘I even stayed sober for one night in LA at the Oscars so that I could do a live interview on the Today programme. Something should be made of it, for the sake of our son. Very few children have been to the Oscars and seen both their parents nominated. It was nice because Gary was there with his wife – who I get on with very well – his other two sons and my son. We’re grown-ups.’

In her eagerness to demonstrate that they’ve worked out their differences, Manville even reveals that the two former partners are planning to work together again.

‘Gary’s asked me to be in a new film he’s hoping to shoot soon. So of course we’re fine. It’s a film about Eadweard Muybridge, the man who invented film.’ The Victorian photographer devised camera techniques that laid the foundations for the motion picture industry. He also shot and killed his wife’s lover, but was acquitted by a jury on the grounds of justifiable homicide. ‘It will be amazing.’

And although she did not win the Oscar for best supporting actress last year (Oldman did win best actor), Manville says she has been almost overwhelmed by offers since then. ‘You get inundated with scripts and immediately I got offered a film with Liam Neeson, Normal People, that’s virtually a two-hander. It comes out at the end of this year.’

Neeson got himself in a lot of trouble earlier this year by confessing that in the past, after the rape of a friend, he had taken to prowling the streets with a cosh, hoping ‘some black b******’ would come out of a pub looking for a fight. He was actually expressing shame at having had those feelings and drew support from Whoopi Goldberg and the England footballer John Barnes, but others called for his films to be pulled. Did that put Normal People in danger?

Manville draws in breath, pulls back her shoulders and says: ‘I’m not going to talk about it at all... except to say that Liam is one of the nicest gentlemen I’ve ever worked with. And he’s a friend.’

Is she just like Cathy in Mum, who insists on seeing the best in people? ‘Oh, I don’t compare to Cathy. I’m kind, but I’m a bit more judgmental than she is. I’m from this chippy world of acting, where people are beautifully acerbic, funny, and sarcastic and cutting. I enjoy all of that. It’s banter.’

Still, she is firmly supportive of Neeson then quickly moves on. ‘Then I got a film I haven’t shot yet, called Dali Land, about Salvador and Gala Dali. I’m going to play Gala. Last week I was filming the new series of Harlots [in which she plays the madam of a high-class 18th-century brothel], then preparing for the film Let Him Go with Kevin Costner and Diane Lane.’

Does Manville thrive on all this new attention? ‘My sister can’t believe I’m not exhausted. It is overwhelming at times, but I do sort of feel I’ve earned it. I’ve put in decades of doing what I feel were the right jobs. I’ve never sold out. I’ve never sought fame. So I’m genuinely loving it and I’m hoping it will last, but it will only last if I keep turning out the work.’

Does she wish this had all happened before? ‘No. I’ve had an amazing, steady career. And I’m grateful for that. A lot of young people who get success very quickly come under huge pressure to maintain it and that is very hard. Especially if they’re good-looking, because if you’ve built a career based on your good looks when you’re young, it’s very difficult to carry on in a real and proper vein.’ Has she come under any of Hollywood’s infamous pressure to go under the knife?

‘No. I went to a lot of meetings while we were there, and the reaction I got is: ‘Oh, you’ve done nothing to your face, isn’t that great!’ If I suddenly started doing all that, it would make nonsense of this career I’ve had for 40-plus years. I’m setting myself up as somebody who likes to play characters. This Bible-bashing mad woman with a gun that I’m playing in Let Him Go isn’t going to have gone under the knife in 1963. Just leave it alone.’

Manville grew up in Brighton, where her father was a taxi driver, and at the age of 15 she started commuting to the Italia Conti stage school in London. She declined the chance to join the steamy TV dance troupe Hot Gossip. ‘I thought, I can’t wear stockings and a suspender belt on telly with my dad watching! He wasn’t a prude – it was more that I was a bit of a prude. I was a good girl. I never broke the rules.’

Just like Cathy in Mum, then? ‘I am a good girl at heart, so there is a bit of Cathy there, but the other side of me is very driven and single-minded.’

Her father couldn’t believe it when she gave up a perfectly good, lucrative part on the soap Emmerdale Farm to concentrate on theatre. ‘My dad was like, “What are you doing? Why would you want to do plays?”’ But Manville went on to have a truly illustrious and highly acclaimed career on stage, from her early days at the Royal Court through numerous leading roles at the National Theatre, The Old Vic and with the Royal Shakespeare Company to her performance in Ibsen’s Ghosts, for which she won the Olivier in 2014. This was the pinnacle of her career at the time, and she said: ‘Ghosts is my Olympic moment.’

There was no way of knowing that the Hollywood legend Paul Thomas Anderson, director of There Will Be Blood and Magnolia, would call her out of the blue, having seen her in the Mike Leigh films he loved.

But before that happened and she got really famous, the director Richard Laxton approached Manville in 2016 about making Mum, and had some persuading to do.

‘My only experience of comedy was 25 years ago, a series called Ain’t Misbehavin’ with Peter Davison,’ says Manville. ‘It was well written, but you had to be funny. I didn’t enjoy it. I wasn’t very good.’

Laxton sent a script and a box set of Him And Her, a series also written by Mum creator Stefan Golaszewski and shot in a very similar, low-key way. The actors play the drama and not for laughs, although they certainly come. In Mum, we see the craziness of the family from Cathy’s point of view as she tries to keep going, do her best and be kind.

‘Just the slightest twinkle from Cathy, and the audience knows what it’s going to mean,’ says Manville.

Series one began just after Cathy had lost her husband Dave. Series two saw her become increasingly – but very slowly – close to old family friend Michael, before she finally declared her love. Now, at the start of the final series, they are together, but haven’t broken it to her son or anyone else yet. ‘I love the way the writer does that,’ she says. ‘We last saw them tentatively holding hands. At the start of this series she just gives him a very casual kiss on the lips, when she’s showing him the bedroom she is staying in.’

The inference is that they have made love. ‘You don’t see them having sex. You don’t see them having passionate kisses.’ Is that a relief? ‘Yes. You wouldn’t want to go there really, but I knew they were going to get together.’ The pair have such joy on their faces, as if they can’t believe their luck.

‘I think younger people – 20- and 30-year-olds – don’t think of anybody aged 60 falling in love. They don’t really imagine that all those feelings an 18-year-old in love has – all those butterflies, uncertainties and insecurities, all that joy – is the same for everyone, whatever your age. That’s an emotion and a set of feelings that we never lose. Thank God! I love Mum for showing that.’

The characters are also very understated. ‘I love the fact that Cathy and Michael are not glamorous, they’re not thinking about how they look. They’re good, kind, thoughtful people. They’re intelligent. They’re very in touch with their own feelings and emotions and reality. They have a very acute understanding of the people around them.’ The cast and crew all stayed in the same hotel and found a local pub to eat and drink. ‘Lots of times, someone would spot one of us up at the bar – say Lisa [McGrillis, who plays Kelly] – and they’d go: “That’s her from Mum!” Then they’d turn around to see where she was taking the drinks and we would all be sitting there!’

How are people with her? ‘Mum is the thing I get stopped in the street most about. They say very kind things. They love the series. When I say it’s back in May but this is the last series, they can’t bear it.’

So why is Mum finishing? ‘Stefan wants to move on to other things. But it’s got a nice finite ending and why would you do any more? Either they get together or they don’t. Either way, that’s it.’ We don’t see so-called late love like this on the television much, do we?

‘No, but I think that’s shifting very slowly. Women and men of my age want to see themselves represented. And there are those actresses who are just carrying on – not just Judi Dench and Maggie Smith, but Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep, Annette Bening.... We are fronting films. And all those female-led films like Mamma Mia!, Quartet and The Best Marigold Hotel that have been huge box- office successes have made studios think: ‘We can have a film about a 50-year-old that people want to see!’

She says ‘we’, but those women are older than her. Thanks to her sudden Indian summer, Manville is now poised to lead a new generation of female actors taking on those kinds of roles. ‘Those actors have opened up the way for us, absolutely. I’ve always felt my life was a slow burn. I’m pleased with the way it has all turned out. Delighted, really. I can’t wait to see what happens next!’

The final series 3 of ‘Mum’ begins on BBC 2 next month. Series 1 and 2 are available on iPlayer.

#Lesley Manville #Event Magazine #Mum #Mum bbc #BBC2 #aaaaahhh #new photos!#bbc mum #series 3

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pickledchickenetti · 5 years

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Last night I considered reblogging a post I’m sure many of you have seen and adding my thoughts. The blogger in question has proven to me in the past that she really doesn’t care much how her words affect others, and since Derick’s blog post this morning hits on a similar topic, I’ve decided to make my own post instead.

Divorce is a touchy subject in evangelical churches. Most churches have to deal with it, and blame it on a godless world that doesn’t follow the Bible’s teachings. They pick from a list of supposed evils and throw out things like feminism, premarital sex, immodesty, and drugs/alcohol as excuses that Christian people fall into the trap of getting divorced. I’ve often heard it said by older Christians in my life that divorces happen because people have stopped focusing on the hard work of marriage and given into the mentality that if something breaks you throw it out rather than fixing it.

The blogger I referenced earlier stated that the “character qualities” that result in divorce “can usually be determined pre-wedding”. That is not a belief that is unique to her; many people believe that it’s your own fault if you end up in a toxic or abusive marriage because you should have seen the signs sooner. The biggest offense I take with this mindset is that the way conservative evangelical churches are set up actively prevents young people, especially young women, from even knowing they should be looking for signs, yet alone being able to recognize them.

As many of you know, I was raised in a Baptist church. My siblings and I attended Christian schools and were in church at least three times a week. We grew up hearing about how our parents fell in love young, chose to wait to have sex until marriage, and were happily married at 19 because they were so in love they didn’t want to be apart any longer. I moved away at 19, went to college, and exposed myself to people outside of the bubble I was raised in.

My sister did not.

Growing up, she idolized our parents’ love story. At thirteen, she asked our mom to take her to the local Christian book store so she could purchase a purity ring. She held that vow of purity close to her. At fourteen, she respected our father’s wishes that she not date the boy she was into. They followed the rules he laid out, only seeing each other in group settings until he granted their permission to date when she turned sixteen. Dad gave her a printed list of dating rules meant to protect her chastity and help her avoid temptations, and she followed them to a T. Her boyfriend even asked our father’s permission before kissing her for the first time. When she was seventeen they broke up, and later that year she met the man who she would later marry, and the process started again.

My sister was a girl who followed all of the rules. By the time she graduated high school, she had barely seen drunk people in movies. She had never been around anyone who had drank alcohol or done drugs. We weren’t even allowed to sit near the bar in restaurants. She only hung out with parental-approved friends, who all kept up the same standards of rules as she did.

She got married at nineteen, just like our parents had. Her husband was a sweet but shy Christian boy she met through a mutual friend. He attended another Christian school, and our parents knew his pastor, who vouched for him and his family. He spent plenty of time around the family, winning over the grandparents and the children, and everyone in between. Before the wedding they attended our pastor’s usual pre-marital counseling, and the pastor felt confident they were a good match. He was, by all accounts, exactly the sort of man she was raised to marry, and she had done everything right. Or so she thought.

Last year, a month before their fifth anniversary, they got divorced. Turns out that that good Christian boy she married was anything but that. He was an alcoholic. He was a drug addict. When he was sober, he was fine. When he wasn’t, he was violent. He was abusive. She has pictures of the bruises he left on her. After a brief honeymoon phase, she spent the rest of her marriage trying to fix him. To save him. She tried so hard, at her own expense, to make the marriage work.

Recently she talked to me about the early stages of her relationship. She mentioned that in retrospect she could see that the signs were there when they were dating. I’m sure many would say this is all her fault for not seeing them. But, as she said, “The signs were there, but I had no way of knowing that that’s what they were.”

Conservative Christianity encourages marrying young. It teaches us that we’re meant to couple up and marry from a young age, avoiding further temptations brought on by lust and starting godly families as soon as we can. It teaches that God will show us the one he’s chosen for us as long as we trust him. We’re supposed to seek godly counsel from our parents, pastors, and other trusted Christian elders.

It says nothing of the people who do all that and still wind up getting hurt. As soon as you decide to get a divorce, it’s suddenly your fault for not seeing the signs. Forget that this boy managed to hide his drug addiction from his parents, who he lived with. She should have known better. Forget that he was only violent when he was drunk, and he was never drunk around her before they were married. She should have seen the signs. Forget that abusers almost always instinctively know how to hide their undesirable qualities from everyone but their victim. Sheltered teenage girls should absolutely be expected to know better.

It’s easy to say that the signs are obvious when you’ve been able to experience the world beyond the conservative Christian bubble before you fall in love and get married. But far too many people never leave that bubble. It’s hard to protect your child from an abuser when you don’t know what signs to look for yourself. It’s absolutely shameful to blame young girls who were raised to follow the rules for their own downfall when the rules fail them.

And to people like Derick, it’s better to die single than to rush into an abusive or otherwise toxic marriage. Marriage is a huge commitment, and if you want marriages to last your primary focus should be on raising your children, sons and daughters both, to know how to think for themselves and discern whether or not a potential spouse is really a good possibility or just someone they’re attracted to who was raised in a similar way.

To anyone reading this who, like my sister, didn’t see the signs for whatever reason, please know that you are not at fault. You did not cause your own abuse. You should be proud of yourself for doing whatever you had to do to get out and rescue yourself. You are so much braver than people want to give you credit for. You deserve to be happy, and I hope you find the strength to do what it takes to find that happiness.

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agirlinjapan · 5 years

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Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars (Week 24)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

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Nine more days left of school! I repeat, nine more days left of school! How great is that? I’m looking forward to summer vacation. I’ll be doing a lot of little travel between family obligations, some trips with friends, and a little working holiday I’m planning for myself. Mostly though, I’m planning to take some much needed downtime for myself the attention this translation deserves!

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 3: Winter Solstice Part 3 (2 of 2)

At four o’clock, the auditorium opened and students started gathering inside.

When Izumiko looked around at the people arriving, she saw that plenty of students were wearing normal clothing, but many others had come dressed in costumes as well. From what she could see through her mask, there were even some students dressed in full out cosplay. As a result, the student government members did not stick out very much at all. It looked like many of the foreign students had gotten a taste for traditional Japanese clothing during the festival, because an unusual amount of them had even arrived in kimonos.

The whole event hadn’t turned out very much like a Christmas party, but Hoshino had said from the start that he hadn’t been aiming for a religious feel. They had even gone out of their way not to use any ornaments on the Christmas tree that would be construed as Christian symbols. With that said, they had used plenty of tinsel, ribbon, glass balls, and blinking strings of lights, and the auditorium was admittedly decorated in red and green.

As plenty of teachers were also in attendance, there were far more adults scattered around the room than Izumiko had thought there would be. Unsurprisingly, none of the teachers were dressed in costumes, but they were wearing cone shaped party hats happily enough. There were other teachers standing around the tables at the edge of the room where sandwiches, cookies, and drinks had been set up.

…This really does feel like a party…

At the start of the event before everyone had arrived, Izumiko had felt like she had been looking in at the big room and its decorations from some outside place, but now she couldn’t help but feel drawn in by the festivities. The white-haired Santa Claus was, of course, a huge hit, and Izumiko, in her matching reindeer costume, walked around with him. Santa had candy in his bag and he handed it out to the people around them as they went, making him even more popular.

Practically all the people who came to see Santa also wanted to shake Izumiko’s hand once they saw her in her costume, not that they knew who she was. For some time, she, the reindeer, became a one stop handshake station.

Eventually, volunteers stepped up onto the stage to sing a song or perform a short skit, and most of the crowd was drawn in that direction. Only then did Izumiko realize just how tired she had become. The festivities hadn’t livened her mood as much as she had thought they would.

What’s wrong? I’m here at this great party, aren’t I? Is this because the barrier’s not up today?...

A strange, uncanny feeling that she hadn’t felt in a while returned. There were shikigami mixed in with the students in the hall. That was most likely why she was feeling so off.

Now that I think about it, I have been acting pretty carefree about everything lately…

Not far away, Manatsu, who was dressed in a wolf costume not unlike Izumiko’s reindeer, had taken off his wolf head and was playfully putting it on different students. Izumiko had no intentions of doing the same thing.

After the chairman had made his opening speech on the stage, he had disappeared into the crowd of students and now was out of sight. It was the same with the parents who had run the bazaar during the festival. She could not spot even one of them through the wide mouth of the reindeer.

“Let’s take a break, Miss Reindeer,” Claus said unexpectedly.

When she turned her head in his direction, she saw that the Santa bag he was holding was more or less empty.

“Let’s go into the side room and have some juice and sandwiches. They say you can’t work on an empty stomach, and besides, we’re guests at this party, too.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Izumiko was relieved to know that they were in agreement. Her throat was painfully dry. Seeing as she couldn’t use her hands very well in the costume’s gloves, Claus picked up some food for her, and the two of them slowly made their way to the side of the auditorium.

No one would be able to see them in the side room. When they got to there, Izumiko took off the reindeer head. Only then did she realize how difficult it had been to breath inside of it. That was part of the reason she hadn’t been able to relax so far during the party.

Claus, having taken off his own white beard, looked over at her.

“Oh! Your color’s not good,” he said, sounding a little surprised. “Are you feeling sick, Izumiko?”

“No. I’m just not used to the costume. That’s all. I’ll be fine after our break,” she answered quickly. She pulled off the costume’s gloves and undid the fastener at her back so that she could pull the fuzzy fabric down around her waist. This immediately made her feel much better. She accepted a cup of orange juice gratefully.

Claus placed a red and white napkin on his costumed lap and enthusiastically began eating a sandwich. He seemed to have had enough of the party for the time being while working as Santa, and did not mind at all that they were eating outside of the main hall.

Izumiko considered how Claus was helping her out by coming out here so that she didn’t eat alone. It was something a good-natured Santa would do.

She took the seat next to Claus and decided that she would ask him somewhat of a personal question. She had never had a chance to talk with him one on one before.

“Hey, does it bother you at all when Takayanagi chants Bible verses? Isn’t that upsetting to you as a Christian?”

Claus blinked his dark blue eyes and stopped eating for a moment to think about this. Then he opened his mouth and said, “Hmm…. It doesn’t bother me. There’s power in the words of the Bible and that’s what’s important. I see it as something Takayanagi and I can agree on. There are people who grew up in the same culture as me, but there are even more who grew up in cultures different from mine. It is possible to become friends with anyone.”

“You can forgive people for using your magic even though they don’t believe in Christianity?” Izumiko asked.

His response was unexpected.

“Honestly, there are more things I cannot forgive fellow Christians of. Germany has a past full of it. The Catholics and Protestants have come together in hate many times and have killed many people.”

“That is true…”

“Theology isn’t tolerant at all. I think there are definitely people who hear one thing and immediately say it’s wrong. Before I say something is wrong though, I want to learn more about it,” Claus said, smiling at Izumiko. “You’re the same, aren’t you, Izumiko? If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have come here. I’d like to be a priest, but I don’t know if I’ll really be able to do that.”

His unconcerned way of speaking was strange to Izumiko. She let out a quiet laugh.

“I can tell that you have a big heart, Claus. That’s why you were able to take on the job of American Santa so well.”

“I don’t think I really could have refused. Even though the feel and the look of Christmas is different from country to country, I think it brings people from all over the world together. Today is the shortest day of the year, and with the shadows coming down on us, it’s a reason for people to come together and celebrate.”

“This is a winter solstice party?”

“Germany’s at a higher latitude than Japan, so the days are much shorter in the winter there,” Claus said thoughtfully. “It has a feeling of being wrapped in darkness. During this season, we light candles on a specific day to invite the light back in. Supernatural forces can wander around in the shadows, so we do this to chase those forces away and light a figurative flame in our souls. Christmas decorations sparkle in the lights that are lit, which is why we put them up.”

***

Talking about Christmas lightened Izumiko’s mood. Between that and the sandwich and cookies she ate, Izumiko felt like she could keep wearing the reindeer costume until the end of the party.

I just have to bear with it a little longer. I need to stay hidden today…

When she slid back into the upper half of the costume and went back into the auditorium, Hoshino was up on stage with the microphone, inviting people to join him for a game. Okouchi was spinning a bingo cage with intensity. Seeing as there were prizes to win, most of the party goers’ attention had moved to that area of the room.

“Do you want to play bingo? We’re guests here too, after all.”

“Yeah. You’re right…” Izumiko agreed, but her costume’s gloves blocked the numbers on her playing card. She made herself busy looking around the room instead.

She watched patiently from her place at the edge of the crowd. As she looked, she spotted Takayanagi’s tall hat appear as he stood up in the middle of a group of his followers. There were a number of girls in the group, but there also seemed to be a good amount of boys as well. The group didn’t seem to be up to any trouble though, so that was fine.

As Izumiko looked around the crowd further, she saw that Mayura and Honoka had already found the chairman as they had promised they would. It was about time for Mayura to change into her princess costume, but maybe unwilling to cut the conversation short, she was still in her handkerchief and apron.

The chairman smiled through the whole conversation. He was middle aged and sturdily built although not very large. He did not act all important despite his job title. From his soft outer appearance, he didn’t look like the sort of person who would scheme either, but Izumiko knew better than that.

Mayura, Honoka, and the chairman may have been deep in conversation about something, but of course, Izumiko wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said, so she turned the reindeer head to look somewhere else. Miyuki wasn’t part of the discussion with the chairman…

After a bit of searching, she found Miyuki in his ascetic monk outfit. He was with Angelica, a little removed from the rest of the crowd.

Angelica’s costume was just as outlandish as Izumiko had thought it would be. Her skirt was umbrella wide and looked something like what might be worn on stage at a ballet except that it was part of a party dress covered in lace and ribbon that a little girl would wear. Her hair was up in pigtails decorated with more ribbons. While students were whispering “magical girl?” back and forth to each other about the costume, that was definitely not what she was wearing.

Up until now, Izumiko had never seen Miyuki have a one on one conversation with Angelica. Here they were though, wrapped up in their own discussion to a point where no other student tried to break in. Just then, Angelica’s face broke into a bright smile and she happily beckoned someone over. A foreign man in began to approach the two. It was probably Pierre, Angelica’s father.

What am I doing here?... Izumiko thought suddenly.

Out of nowhere, it felt like it was even harder to breath in the mask than it had been before.

I’m hiding in people’s shadows, disguising myself like this, and just staring out at a party through a peephole. There’s no reason for me to be here…

She recalled what Takayanagi had said. He had wanted to understand why she was going this far to hide from the public eye. If she wanted a reason why the goddess shouldn’t become the World Heritage Candidate, she had one. Izumiko desperately wanted to live a normal life and for that very reason, she needed to ask the others for their support in making that happen. However, she hadn’t realized that as she had been bumbling along.

Watching Miyuki’s lively back and forth with people like Angelica and Pierre made Izumiko think that what he had said about being fine with the news about Kaori had only been words. But she was also pretty sure that had been obvious from the start.

Of course he’d care. It’s his mom…

Sooner or later Miyuki would travel overseas now that he knew where she was. Izumiko was already sure of that much as well. Whether it would be because of who he was or what he was capable of, it was something he would have to do. It wasn’t just his mother who had gone abroad. His father, Yukimasa, was the sort of person who wandered as well.

Miyuki will have a future that’ll take him far away. I’m different… I’ll be hidden by other people my whole life and so there’s no place for me to go. Even if I could hide myself away and put off what’ll eventually happen, there’s no place that Miyuki and I could go together…

Becoming aware of the darkness in the costume’s mask, she began to feel like she was the only one wrapped in shadows. That seemed fitting for her. When it came down to it, she was really the one who was carrying around all the darkness with her.

Without me even realizing it, everyone’s bound me to their own plans... It’s just like what Takayanagi was trying to say. He was right about everything. About Miyuki, too.

Her panic was rising, but at least she knew it was creeping up on her. She wanted to scream for no reason. Just as she realized exactly what was going on, all the lights in the auditorium; strings of Christmas lights, everything, went out.

Keep reading!

#rdg #red data girl #rdg 6 #rdg 6 week 24 #rdg my wish on the night of the shooting stars #translation

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ifishouldvanish · 6 years

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The Boston Hour (15/?)

In which Belle is an Antiques Roadshow super-fan and Gold is her favorite appraiser.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Belle receives two phone calls. Rumford and David go out for “a couple beers”. RATING: T WORDS: 9,087 A/N: Big thank you to @whimsical36 for beta reading this chapter!♥ TMI’s for last chapter - [x]

Also: With this update, this story has officially hit the 100k mark! I wanna thank everyone for sticking with this story, because it's become my baby-- and it never would have happened if not for all of you guys' support! *blows kisses*

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Read on AO3]

Belle shifted in bed as she finished reading her emails on her phone. It was well past time to get up and start the day, but since she was in no hurry to be anywhere this morning, she just rolled onto her back and switched to the gallery app instead.

She happily began skimming through the pictures from her weekend with Rumford, which included shots of the wares on display at the market, the things they had eaten, and views of the docks and the park. Rumford seemed to shy away from having his photo taken, but hadn’t refused when somebody offered to take their picture while they were walking along the docks Saturday evening.

It had come out quite well, Belle thought. The sun had just begun to set, she looked so happy with Rumford’s arm around her shoulders, and he looked so handsome with his pinstriped suit and boutonniere. She smiled and continued swiping, lingering on the handful of shots where she’d managed to capture glimpses of him– an arm, a shoulder, his back, a blurry figure in the distance. There were a few she’d taken at the soap vendor where he could be seen sniffing lotions and bars of soap, including one he must not have liked, judging by the funny look on his face. But then there was one of him smiling– or perhaps laughing– dimples and all, and she decided it was her favorite.

Her phone suddenly buzzed in her hand, the screen overtaken by an incoming call.

What a man, what a man, what a mighty good man! Say it again, now! What a man, what a man, what a mighty good–

“Oh!” Belle gasped and scrambled to answer it, only to drop the phone onto her face. She sputtered and picked it back up, hoping she hadn’t accidentally answered it with her nose.

A call from Rumford!

Taking a deep breath, she tapped the screen and pressed the device to her ear. “Rumford?”

“Ah… Belle?”

Her insides did a little dance at the sound of his voice, and she squirmed under her sheets. “Hi, Rumford...”

“Hi.” he said, and oh! His voice was just so soft and gentle and sweet!

Belle bit into her lower lip. “...Hi.”

“I ah… well, you said I should give you a call once I made it back to Syracuse.”

“Oh, yeah!” she smiled and snuggled up against her pillows. “How was the drive?”

“Interminable.” he scoffed. “I ah… wouldn’t have minded some company.”

“I’d have happily kept you company if I could...” she said.

He let out a little chuckle, not seeming sure of what to say to that. “So ah… w-what are your plans for today?”

Belle blew out a long breath. “I have classes, but they don't start until two, so I get to sleep in.”

“Ah.” he chuckled. “You know, I tried to come into the shop on time at nine this morning, but ah… it seems my employees and my son have conspired to make sure I get some sleep after the trip, so… I just got out of bed myself.”

Fresh out of bed Rumford!

He probably had cute, matching pajamas, Belle thought– his eyes glazed and sleepy, and his hair mussed from the pillows…

“Sounds like they worry about you a lot,” she smiled, giddily tugging the covers up to her chin.

Rumford scoffed. “Aye, they do. Neal's always taken very good care of me– making sure I sleep, making sure I eat. And Ariel, she's… she's very sweet. Lovely young woman and a great worker. Don't know how I'd run the shop without her.”

“Well I'm glad you have people over there looking out for you.”

“Aye. Though I did manage to steal copies of the proposals Ariel worked on before she kicked me out, so… I may still get some work done yet.”

“Rumford!” Belle admonished. “You’re so bad…”

“Oh, I know.” he said. “But from what I've seen so far, they all look great. Haven't found a thing I'd change yet.”

“Can I ask what the proposals are for? Or is that… I don't know,” she shrugged, “confident–”

“Sure, sure.” he said. “The ah… biggest project is restoring a dining set from the 1860s. ‘Nother is repairing an old family Bible that was printed and bound in 1807.”

“Oh, wow.”

“And the others aren’t proposals, but insurance valuations. Got one for a collection of model trains. Quite impressive. Another for an old set of silverware, one for a stamp collection... and another for a few paintings from the Ashcan School.”

Belle rolled onto her belly. Propping her chin upon her fist, she let out a wistful sigh.

After a beat, Rumford smacked his lips. “Which ah… which classes have you got today?”

“Oh, uh... resources for children, and then my capstone.”

“Ah. Resources for children, what's that all about?”

“Um… basically how to develop a curriculum for an elementary school library. How to target the needs of children who are still learning to read, or still uh, developing their comprehension skills.”

“Oh.” Rumford chuckled. “And that's… y-you’d enjoy that, you think? Working with children?”

“Well, yeah!” Belle smiled, beginning to paddle her feet through the air. “I uh, I love kids.”

“Oh. That's… that's wonderful, sweetheart.”

Of course she loved kids!

She wanted to have some of her own one day!

Did Rumford want to have more kids? Because she'd totally have kids with him. Lots of them.

Well, like… three, tops, but still.

Or was it too soon to be thinking about having babies together?

No , Belle decided. That was silly!

She'd always known she wanted to have children. It was only natural, that if she was seeing somebody who gave her butterflies, and it was going well, that she'd daydream about a future with them! A future with babies! Cute, snuggly, precious, little babies with their tiny hands and tiny feet and tiny noses and tiny everything! So soft, and with pudgy cheeks, too!

“...Belle?”

Her feet stopped paddling. “Mhm?”

Rumford coughed. “Well, I-I just wanted to say that I ah… I had a lovely time last night. Th-the whole weekend, I mean.”

Belle nibbled her lip and snuggled her pillow a little more tightly. “...Me too.”

“I regret that I had to leave so soon, but…”

“I know.” she said, glancing toward the window. “You got work, I got work, school…”

“Aye.” he said. “But you know, I-I have to say it, Belle. You were... incredible last night.”

“Oh.” she giggled, feeling herself blush.

“It was a ah... honor, to see such a brilliant mind at work.”

“Well…” Belle fought back a smile, “the other members of the University Word Warriors club don’t call me the Bogglemeister for nothing.”

“...Quadricentennial.” he sighed. “Absolutely brilliant.”

“You weren't so bad yourself,” she murmured. “...Mr epistemologies.”

“No no–” he said. “Child's play compared to your schadenfreude. I-I'd never even considered playing loanwords before, Belle. You… reinvented the game for me, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Oh, I don't know about that…” she blushed, her legs swaying in the air again.

“Oh, but I do.” he crooned.

Belle nibbled her lip again and pressed her thighs together. “...Yeah?”

“I'll ah, never look at a Boggle grid the same way again.”

“You know, all this flattery will get you nowhere,” she teased. “Dr Gold.”

“No?” he asked. “Because so far it seems to be doing a great job of bringing that lovely blush to your face. Miss French.”

“Rumford!” she giggled. “What makes you think I'm blushing, hm?”

“Oh, I can tell.” he murmured. “I can hear it in your voice– sounds even sweeter than usual...”

A delighted little squeal escaped her, and Belle clamped a hand over her mouth.

“...what?” he asked.

“Well, if anyone would know what I sound like when I’m blushing, it’d be you…”

“O-oh?” he stammered, and the silken quality that had been in his voice was suddenly replaced with something shaky and uncertain. “I–”

“It’s hard not to blush whenever I’m talking with you, Rumford…” she spelled out for him.

“...Oh,” he chuckled. “Well… I’m afraid I’m the one who’s blushing now, sweetheart.”

*****

Ruby had just crawled out of bed and was headed to the kitchen when she heard giggling from Belle's bedroom. She paused and hovered outside the door, unable to resist the temptation to eavesdrop.

“Rumford…”

She couldn't make out much, or any of Dr Gold's half of the conversation for that matter, but they were definitely exchanging sweet little nothings.

Thank God, Ruby thought, continuing towards the kitchen. They finally boned.

She hadn't expected Dr Gold to still be in town, but she supposed she couldn't blame the guy, either. If there was any excuse for him to extend his stay in Storybrooke, being too worn out from a night of dancing the horizontal Mambo would be it.

A high-pitched squeal sounded from Belle's room, and Ruby smothered a laugh. The apartment had been completely quiet when she got home late last night, but it appeared a good night's sleep had the two lovebirds ready for another roll in the hay.

Once in the kitchen, Ruby prepared herself a big bowl of cereal and carried it (and the box) over to the couch – making sure she had a good view down the hall. Belle and Dr Gold was one walk of shame she wouldn't want to miss. And surely enough, within a few minutes, there was some movement down the hall and Belle's door creaked open.

Belle appeared, raising her arms up and letting out a big yawn. She had a little pep in her step as she came down the hall and into the kitchen.

“Hey there, peanut.” Ruby said behind a sly grin. “Ya have a good time last night?”

“Mhm!” Belle answered, opening the fridge.

“Looks like it.” she teased.

Belle plucked a cup of yogurt out of the fridge and spun around for the utensil drawer, grabbing a spoon before slamming it shut with a saucy sway of her hips. She had a big smile on her face she was clearly trying to be casual about– which was what Belle always did when she was dying to tell her something. But of course, in typical Belle fashion, she was just standing there, leaning against the counter, happily eating her yogurt like she was auditioning for a Yoplait commercial.

“So…” Ruby took the bait. “How was–”

“I showed Rumford my spreadsheet.” Belle volunteered.

“Oh, God.” Ruby dropped her spoon into her bowl and leveled her a look before remembering that whatever had happened last night, clearly went well. And naturally– she was curious. “...What did he say?”

“That it was a highly valuable set of data and incredibly helpful.” Belle said proudly, joining her on the couch. “...and then he um, called me sweetheart. Again.”

Ruby blinked. Of course they'd end up making foreplay out of the damn spreadsheet.

Should've expected it, honestly.

“Anyway, we ate dinner after that… he really seemed to enjoy the meatloaf by the way... and then we talked and cuddled right there…” Belle continued, looking fondly at the other end of the couch as she licked the yogurt off of her spoon. “And um, things may have gotten a little heated after that…”

Ruby flared her nostrils and tried not to fidget too noticeably where she sat.

They boned. On the couch. Where she was now sitting. Less than twelve hours later. Eating.

Hadn't she specifically begged her not to do it on the couch?

Belle sighed. “Rumford is such a good kisser, Rubes.” she said. “And he smells so good. Have you ever made out with someone who smells really good? Because it's like… you feel all hot and tingly from the things they're doing with their mouth, and then when you pull back to catch your breath, it's like BAM! Sexy smell!”

“Yeah. It's… something else…” Ruby nodded along, peering down the hall. Where was the man of the hour, anyway?

Belle glanced over her shoulder, spoon in her mouth, and frowned when she saw that nothing was there. “...What is it?”

“He takin’ a shower or something?”

Belle creased her brows. “What?”

Ruby shrugged. “Rumford.”

She shook her head. “He left the apartment at eleven or so last night. Had to leave really early this morning for Syracuse– It's like a six-hour drive, you know.”

“Oh. I just thought I heard…” Ruby trailed off.

“Heard what? We were on the phone.”

Ruby rolled her eyes and set her cereal bowl on the coffee table. Doing her best impression of Belle, she dropped her wrist and giggled, “Rumford!”

Belle’s eyes went wide and she huffed. “I don't sound like that!”

Ruby threw her head back and laughed. “Yeah, you do!”

“Do not!” Belle said, throwing the empty yogurt cup at her. It bounced off Ruby's arm and tumbled onto the floor.

“Around him? That is exactly what you sound like!”

“Yeah, well–” Belle began to protest, “...maybe Rumford happens to be really funny.” she said, lifting her chin.

Ruby shot her a skeptical look. “Is he, Belle?” she asked. “Is he really funny?”

Belle pursed her lips, refusing to look her in the eyes. “Okay, fine. Maybe he's just really cute and I like him a lot and can't help getting all giggly around him.” she admitted. “So what?”

“...Mhm.” Ruby grinned, picking her cereal bowl back up and continuing to munch away. “Nothing.”

“Come on,” Belle sighed. “You and Dorothy don't act giggly and cute around each other? Not even a little?”

“Nah.” Ruby swallowed. “But then again, I don't need to act cute. I just am, ” she shrugged. “I mean– look at me.”

Belle narrowed her eyes, trying not to laugh.

“So.” Ruby shoveled another spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “...How was it? Did he uh... give you full market value?” she asked, wiggling her brows.

Belle tilted her head. “Huh?”

“Oh, come on!” she whined. “Full market value! That was good!”

“...what?”

“Hang on.”

Ruby brought her bowl up to her lips and tilted her head back, slurping the milk down before setting it back on the coffee table.

“The sex!” she said, throwing her hands up in the air. “Did you guys finally bone or what?! I need to know! Did. My girl. Get. Laid. Did she ride that–”

“Oh!” Belle realized with a smile. “No.”

Ruby deflated in an instant. “What.”

“No. We uh, we didn't have sex.” she said, dusting some imaginary crumbs off her lap.

Ruby rubbed a hand over her face and groaned. “Christ, I'm starting to get blue balls here!” she said. “I don't even have balls, Belle!”

“I mean, we almost did…” she mumbled.

Ruby gestured impatiently for her to continue. “But…?”

Belle shrugged. “We just decided we aren't ready for that yet.”

“I mean–” Ruby huffed. “That's cool. And I respect that. But–” she trailed off and flapped her arms wildly in frustration.

Belle laughed. “We wound up playing Boggle instead. You know– he's quite good!”

“I'm… sure he is.” Ruby grumbled in defeat.

There was a sound then, coming from the bedroom.

“...Phone.” she said, nodding towards the hall.

Belle raised her brows. “What?”

“Your phone, peanut. Someone's calling you.”

“Oh.” she blinked and hopped off the couch. “ God, how can you hear that?” she asked, following the muffled melody to her bedroom.

Ruby shrugged. “We all have our gifts, Belle. Clairvoyance, supersonic hearing, mad Boggle chops…”

Belle rolled her eyes and disappeared into her room, returning a moment later with reluctant pout on her face.

“What's the matter?” Ruby snickered. “You look like somebody spilled coffee on your copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

“It's my dad.”

“Yeah, I figured.” she said, darting a pointed glance at Belle's phone, where it continued to blare Papa Don't Preach in her hand. “Your ringtones? A little on the nose. What does he want?”

Belle let out a deep sigh. “I don't know.”

*****

Every so often, Rumford would receive a call from David, inviting him out for a couple beers. Usually he'd find some excuse not to go– Working late tonight. Going in early tomorrow. Too many errands to run.

But when David called Tuesday, asking him to come out for a couple beers on Thursday, Rumford had been feeling a little saucy and said yes.

He knew just what the source of his newfound sauciness was, too.

It was no doubt the work of certain aspiring librarian in Maine. He and Belle had talked about so many things last weekend– the sort of things that emboldened a man, and made him feel more like he had a right to the space he occupied in the world. Like he had something to offer, something to give. That invitations to the pub from someone as likeable as David Nolan were born of a genuine desire to actually enjoy his company rather than being some reluctant act of pity.

Of course David Nolan wanted to hang out and have a couple beers with Rumford Gold!

Rumford Gold was sharp and witty! A good listener! Was maybe even a little handsome, depending on who you asked– though he'd prefer it if you asked Belle.

And so on Thursday night, Rumford drove up to one of the Irish pubs in town. To meet David. For a couple beers.

Not literally a couple beers– as he didn't drink beer and intended to order whisky instead– but figuratively a couple beers, as in heterosexual male bonding.

...Or was it just platonic male bonding?

When he and Jefferson used to go out, they didn't have to do so under the guise of some passive activity like drinking beer! They'd just say it: I haven't heard from you in a while. We should catch up.

At the very least, it would be I’d like to try that new restaurant that opened up. But even then, if they wanted to try the new restaurant that opened up, then they tried the new restaurant that opened up. Critiqued the menu, the decor, the lighting concept, how comfortable the chairs were.

Rumford had been on this earth long enough to know that when someone invited you out for a couple beers, their intentions were rarely so simple.

But maybe a couple beers wasn't a heterosexual thing so much as it was a “men who aren't attracted to each other” thing. Maybe two men who, while attracted to other men but not necessarily each other, also went out for a couple beers.

Rumford reached the pub’s front door and hesitated.

Was this what people meant when they said bisexuals were confused? Because he was definitely feeling confused right now. As confused as he was certain about his interest in men and women.

Should he tell David about his little discovery, he wondered?

It had felt liberating to tell Belle. Like a weight off of his shoulders. But now that he was back in Syracuse, the weight seemed to have crept back over him.

Maybe he shouldn't.

It seemed rather self-important, didn't it? Oh, let me just interrupt you for a second there to tell you that I like men.

Just... unprompted like that.

And what if David took it the wrong way? Thought he was confessing to being attracted to him? What if it made things weird?

It wasn't fair, was it? Nobody else had to work up the nerve to tell their friends and colleagues that they were heterosexual! People just assumed they were and there was never any need to correct them!

Rumford shook his head and finally stepped inside the dimly lit pub, doing his best to avoid eye contact with the hostess– to look like he knew where he was going because it was always uncomfortable when you were meeting somebody and couldn't find them. Then the hostess would try to offer you a table, and you had to explain to them that you didn't need their help finding a table– you just needed a few more seconds to adjust to how bloody dark it was in there so you could distinguish one shadowy figure at the bar from another.

Fortunately however, the hostess was preoccupied with taking a dinner reservation and it never became an issue. Rumford swept past her podium without having to endure so much as a gratuitous service smile!

Anyway, he'd want to tell Neal at some point, too. If there was anybody he wanted to completely be his true self around, it was his boy.

But what about somebody like Miss Halloran? Was it any of her business to know? It'd be nice if she knew, he supposed– they worked alongside each other every day at the shop after all. But still, he didn't feel like they had the kind of relationship that warranted a whole conversation about his sexuality.

Because what now? Would he just have to keep bringing it up again and again? With every person he grew close to? Where did one draw the line? Was he just supposed to spend the rest of his life explaining himself to people?

Bloody hell.

How exhausting!

“Gold?”

If only there was some way he could… broadcast that information, but on a low frequency. Something subtle that whispered, “bisexual,” to whomever was listening. He wouldn't be hiding it, but he wouldn't be making a big deal of it either. It’d just be there. Like any other clearly observable fact about him. Like his height, or his hair color, or the keen eye for aesthetics that frequently had ladies in department stores approaching him and asking his opinion while they shopped for their husbands.

A hand clapped over Rumford's shoulder and he startled.

“You alright there, man?” David asked.

Rumford blinked.

Jefferson never clapped him on the shoulder like that before either. He would gently touch his shoulder. Or brush his arm. Sometimes, when they were being brought to their table at a restaurant, he'd trail behind him, splaying a guiding hand over his back.

God, Rumford thought.

How oblivious was he?

“Aye. Just… dark in here, is all,” he said.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” David chuckled. “Got us a spot right here, buddy,” he said, pointing to a vacant spot at the bar.

Yes, Rumford thought as he followed David over.

His bisexuality wouldn't be a big deal unless someone else wanted to make it a big deal– in which case he could show them the door. After all, what did he have to lose? He was a grown man who owned a house in the historic district! It's not like his father could disown him!

Bastard already did that when he was eight years old!

Risk getting fired from his job? It was his business!

Lose customers? Please. Their work had been featured in Antiques Quarterly half a dozen times! The waiting list to get an appraisal with him was a month long! Restoration work– four!

Four months!

If half those people decided they didn't want their R & J Adam dinette chairs repaired by a man who liked men, what did he care!?

Fewer deadlines for him to worry about!

He’d probably sleep better!

What else was there...

Milah making insensitive remarks over dinner when she visited for the holidays?

She did that anyway!

“So, what's up?” David asked, seating himself on one of the barstools. “What's happenin’?”

Rumford stared at the empty stool beside him for a moment, determining how best to climb up without making a spectacle of himself. “Oh, nothing, nothing...” he dismissed. “Ah… how about you?”

“Good, good.” David nodded, leaning over the counter to flag down the bartender.

Rumford fidgeted into his seat, struggling to make himself as comfortable as was possible on a wooden bar stool. “That's… good.” he coughed.

The bartender wasted no time getting their orders, a small diversion for which Rumford was grateful.

“It's good to see you, buddy.” David said.

“Aye. …Good to see you too.” Rumford nodded.

Good.

Good, good, good.

Everything was good.

“We never really get to just hang out, you know?”

Rumford raised his brows, his mouth hanging open dumbly. “Ah… no. We don't, don't we?”

“Well, thanks for comin’ out.” David said.

Rumford's pulse thickened.

Coming out?

Did he know? Could he tell? Had everyone already known he was bisexual except him?

No, no, Rumford decided. He meant coming out literally. Coming out physically.

“...aye.” he said, relaxing a little. “Of course.”

The bartender, absolute godsend that she was, set their drinks in front of them then, and Rumford didn't hesitate to take a sip from his glass.

Well, two sips.

David took a hefty swig of his beer and let out a refreshed sigh. “We should do this more often, you know?”

Rumford huffed a little laugh through his nose.

Should they? Because it'd only been five minutes and he already wanted to go home.

He took another sip. “Aye. For sure.”

At this point, Jefferson would have remarked on how disappointing and uninspired the latest blockbuster films were, or how heartbroken he was to have just finished a novel he'd been enjoying so terribly much. He might have shared an amusing anecdote about one of his students, which would've reminded Rumford of a story about a particularly difficult customer they'd had at the shop.

Oh, he and Jefferson would have each other in stitches, wouldn't they? And then as they settled down and caught their breath, their eyes would meet, and...

Rumford cleared his throat and took another sip, ignoring the warm sensation in his chest.

“How ah… how was the game?” he asked. Because there was always a game.

“Good,” David nodded, “Blue Jays just secured themselves a spot in the World Series, so I'm happy about that.”

Rumford gave a tight-lipped smile. “That's… wonderful.”

He took another swig and frowned. “You sure you're alright, buddy? You seem…”

“No.” Rumford shook his head. “Just... thinking.” About how gay I am.

“Something on your mind?”

“Ah…” he floundered, trying to think of something. Anything but the conversation he wanted but didn't feel quite ready to have.

“Ye know, we got this chair in,” he settled with. “An old Chippendale. And the right back leg ? Completely snapped at the joint.”

“Oh.” David scowled. “Sounds like you got your work cut out for you.”

Work. Always a safe topic.

“Aye. Hell with the hide glue, I'm gonnae need to use some epoxy.” Rumford said, hiking his brows emphatically.

“Is it mahogany? Walnut?” David asked. “‘Cause I've got a bunch of scrap lying around, if you think you'll need to carve in and reinforce that.”

“Aye. Aye, for sure. That'd be great.”

“Yeah, whatever you need. And hey– if you think you'll need some power tools, you could just bring it over to the workshop. Mi casa es su casa , alright?”

Rumford frowned.

“...What?” David asked.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I haven't touched a power tool in years.”

“So? I'm sure you've still got it, man.” David said, giving his shoulder a shove– and what was with all the shoving!? And the smacking? His poor shoulder was going to dislocate if he kept on with that!

“I dunno. I… I think it might be time for me to start turning away jobs like this,” Rumford chuckled. “Jewelry, watch repair? Sure. But no more of this... carpentry.”

“Hey now– the work you did on that Sheraton side chair a few years back was a master class. ” David said, wagging his bottle at him. “Thing looked brand new.”

“Well, I-I appreciate that, but…”

“But what?”

Time for another sip. “...I dunno.”

“Well, I'm just saying.” David said. “Come by the workshop sometime, play with the jointer and the table saw, and tell me you don't miss it.”

"Eh…” Rumford hesitated. "I'll consider it.”

He didn't necessarily miss the work. It's just that that kind of work involved things like safety gear, and… wearing blue jeans.

David set his beer down with a heavy sigh. “Alright. So, I gotta be honest,” he said. “There's uh… there's a reason I called you out here.”

Rumford furrowed his brows. Swallowed hard.

I gotta be honest? There's a reason I called you out here?

Had more terrifying words ever been spoken?

“You see, I got this thing I was kinda hoping you could give me some advice, some perspective, on.”

Rumford pouted and started blankly ahead. What could David Nolan possibly need his advice on? Picking out anniversary gifts, hopefully. He was good at that. Customers at the shop were always looking for something a little off the beaten path there. Or perhaps planning an outfit. Or the best approach for appraising something. Or–

“It's about Emma.” David explained.

“Oh.” Rumford smiled and turned to face him a little better, because that was another matter entirely! “What is it?”

“Well…” he stared ahead for a moment and sighed. “She's going to be doing all these after school programs this year, and so Mary Margaret and I decided to get her a cell phone.”

“A cell phone?” Rumford scoffed. “She's nine years old! Neal didn't get one until he got his driver's license last year!”

“I know! It seems crazy,” David laughed. “But we talked about it, and we agreed we wanted to have a way for us to reach each other, no matter what. Because in this world, who knows what could happen, right?”

“Aye, I suppose…” Rumford said.

“But here's the thing: Phones these days, you know, they aren't just phones anymore.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” he agreed.

“I mean, it's crazy!” David said. “They can take pictures and send pictures and go online and talk to strangers and– it's scary.”

“It is.”

“So Mary Margaret found out about this software that lets you monitor everything they do on their phone. And I mean everything. And she seems really gung-ho about it, but it just…”

“Feels wrong.”

“Invasive. Yeah.” David said. “I mean, we do everything on our phones these days. But when I was a kid, we didn't have cell phones! It was like, you and your buddies rode your bikes and hung out at the baseball fields, and everything was fine as long as you were home before dark, you know?

Rumford hesitated.

Friends?

Bicycle rides with one's buddies?

Baseball?

“ ...Aye.”

“And look, there's plenty of stupid stuff my friends and I said and did in those days that my mom never knew about. That I still wouldn't want her to know about. But it was just harmless fun, you know? We all turned out fine and stayed out of trouble.”

“For sure, for sure.”

“So I mean… the fancy phones… are they not just… this generation's baseball field?” David said. “I mean, Emma's nine now, but in a few years… well, when does it stop? Where do we draw the line? What happens when she starts liking boys? Are we–”

“Or girls.” Rumford chimed in. “...Or both.”

David pinned him with an odd look. Not surprise or disgust, but something unreadable.

Rumford looked down at his glass and smacked his lips. “...You never know.”

“Right?” David said. “It just feels like something out of an Orwell novel, is what I'm saying.”

“I understand.”

“So… I don't know what to do. I want to protect our daughter from all the ugly in the world, but… she should still have the right to her privacy. And the right to just… be a kid and make her own mistakes and learn from them.” he sighed. “You did a good job with Neal. What would you do?”

“Ah…”

What would he do?

What would Barbara Rumford Gold do?

“I… ah… Well, it… The thing–” he cut himself off with a sigh.

David was listening so attentively, with eyes so wide, so gleaming, so earnest– and he really didn't want to botch this up!

He'd given good advice to Belle though, hadn't he? And her father?

That was different, though. Neither of them had asked for advice. They'd just said something that prompted him to speak from his own experience!

Rumford rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Oh.

Yes.

Life experience and all that.

“My ah… da always wanted to know everything.” he finally said, and David leaned in a little closer.

“He was always watching and demanding to know what I was doing, or reading. Who I talked to at school, if I had touched any of his things while I was gone, just… everything. He'd notice something wasn't quite right in the flat, and it was always my fault, and he'd get so angry and–”

Well, perhaps it wasn’t necessary to go into quite so much detail.

“I was walking on eggshells all the time,” he went with, “and I… I hated this feeling that nothing was just mine. And I don't just mean material things, but– well, the more he demanded to know, the more determined I was to keep things from him, you know? Not with any sort of malicious intent, but just so that I could have something.”

David pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”

“So I knew I didn't want Neal to feel that way, not ever.” Rumford said. “The thing is, for me… being a parent… it's not my job to make Neal's choices for him. It's… teaching him how to make his own, you know? I mean, he really cocks things up from time to time, but we all do. That doesn't make him a bad kid. But the important thing, is that he should know that no matter what, he can come to me and expect me to help him through whatever's he got on.”

“Absolutely.”

He swirled his finger through the condensation on his glass and smiled. “Two, three years ago, I get a phone call. I answer, and it's Neal calling from a friend's phone, and he goes, ‘Pop. We fucked up.’ ”

David huffed out a laugh.

“Turns out he and his friends had stolen the keys to their parents car and taken it for a joyride. Big pickup truck, with the four wheel drive, and they decided to take it off-road. It had been raining though, and they lost control and swerved straight into a damn tree.”

“Ouch.”

“And I was… so disappointed, because I knew he knew better than that, you know?”

“We usually do, don't we?” David chuckled.

“...Aye.” Rumford agreed, hiking his brows. “So I hop in the car and drive out to them, and they're fine, thank God. Neal can hardly look me in the eyes of course– he knows what he's done. But then his friends are practically grovelling at my feet, ‘please don't make us call our parents!’ which... they'd mangled the fender on the bloody thing, there wasn't any other way about it– but I was glad to know that when my son found himself in that situation, he felt that he could call me. That he wasn’t afraid to call me. Because he didn't have to, you know? It wasn't my car, they swore up and down that he hadn't been the one driving, none of them had gotten hurt save for a few nasty bruises... He could've kept it from me. Easily. But as horrible as the circumstances were, I was glad to know that at some point, the three of them were pacing around, scared, not knowing what to do, and that my son went, 'I know: let me call my da. He'll know what to do.’”

David sat quietly with the corners of his mouth pinched. “...That had to be terrifying, though.” he finally said, his eyes fixed on the wall.

Rumford tapped a finger on his glass, thinking of what to say. It had been terrifying, and if there was any chance that he could go back and ensure it had never happened, he’d no doubt that he’d take it.

“I think… it's easy to be scared, to get angry in those situations.” he said. “But if there are children who respond well to that, I can tell you Neal was never one of them. I learned that I've got to bite my tongue where that's concerned. Try to be calm about it when I tell him he needs to be more careful, that what if they hadn't been so lucky and they'd gotten seriously hurt– or worse. Because all the times I panicked and lashed out at him, I could see it in his eyes, the same resentment I would have toward my da. That urge to pull further away.”

David rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Do you ever regret not knowing what they were up to though? Before it was too late, I mean.” he said. “Because like you said, what if they weren't so lucky?”

“Of course you do.” Rumford admitted. “But… the more they know you're watching, the better they get at hiding those things, you know? I know I did. And it took years after my da left for me to… unlearn that.” he said. “At the end of the day, you’ve got to trust them. And hear me when I say that they’ll violate that trust. Likely more than once. But if you can’t give them your trust to begin with, they’ll never understand the value of it, and they’ll never want to work to repair it.”

David released another slow, heavy breath and hiked his brows.

“It’s… not easy,” Rumford chuckled, hoping to lighten the mood.

“No, you’re right.” he agreed. He gently drummed his hands over the bartop, and looked at Rumford with a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, man. I’ll uh, think about that.”

Rumford smiled back and nodded. “Aye. Of course.”

“So, speaking of kids…” David grinned, leaning back in his seat. “You ready to be an empty nester?”

Rumford slouched his shoulders. “I'm… excited for him.”

“He's a good kid.” David offered. “I don't think you have anything to worry about.”

Rumford scoffed.

Worried about Neal? Ha! He wasn't worried about Neal! Neal was a smart boy! With a good head on his shoulders!

No, no! He was worried about himself!

Coming home to an empty house! Not having anyone to nag about leaving dishes in the sink or laundry in the dryer! Not having anyone's profanity to correct! Not having a messy bedroom that called his name every time he walked by, luring him to come in and tidy up– just a little bit!

Because when you took all of those things away, what was there left to be grumpy about!?

Dust bunnies?

There was a pathetic thought.

Rumford Gold. Home alone with nothing but his dusty trinkets to keep him company.

It made a heavy feeling settle in his stomach, and he frowned at his glass.

“Hey, man.” David said, putting a hand in his shoulder. “You’ll be alright. Now you get to… relax. Focus on you.”

Rumford nodded, but his frown stayed in place.

That's what they said, the other parents. How ‘done’ they were, and how now they would finally have the time to rekindle their marriages, or make that career change, or retire, or start that side business they'd always dreamt of.

But he didn't have a marriage to rekindle! He was happy with his work and he was proud of his shop! And above all else, he didn't feel ‘done’ with kids! He loved being a Papa and he couldn't shake this feeling that he had more of that in him!

And so he'd just nod along and smile, ignoring the hollow feeling in his heart. Pretending he didn't feel like something was missing.

“You know…” David said, setting a hand on his shoulder, “I really do consider you a friend, Rum.”

Rumford sighed and stared down at the bartop.

“I know Neal leaving for college is gonna be hard, or maybe just weird for you, but– well, if you ever wanna talk about it, I'm all ears.” he said. “‘Cause I know you'd do the same for me. Because, well, in a lot of ways, you're... kind of like the dad I never had.”

Rumford looked up at him and cocked his head to the side, at a loss for words.

David smiled. “I mean, I had a dad, but… you’re like… a second dad. Or a really close uncle, or–” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Point is, when I have stuff I can't talk to anyone else about– the kind of stuff I wish I could talk to my dad about– I know I can come to you.”

Rumford could feel the beginning of tears coming on, and blinked them away. “I– Thank you.” he whispered and nodded.. “That… thank you.”

David gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“You're… sort of like a son to me,” Rumford managed with an uncertain shrug. “Sometimes?”

Because while yes, he did have a special fondness for David, it just wasn't the same. Mentor and mentee, surely. But father and son? That felt a bit of a stretch.

David seemed to pick up on his uncertainty and looked away, taking a quick swig of his beer. “You don’t have to– it's alright, I understand.”

“I… appreciate that, though.” Rumford said. “Truly. Thank you.”

“Well, however you choose to look at it.” David chuckled, “I'm glad we're friends.”

Friends.

He and David were friends.

A certain feeling overcame him, and Rumford hesitated. But after a beat, he turned toward David– toward his friend – and clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Me too.”

His hand lingered there for a moment, and what was an appropriate length of time to be touching someone’s shoulder like this, anyway?

He released his grip and let his hand drop down, making a point to not snap it away too quickly nor drag it away too slowly.

“Anyway–” David coughed, “how uh… how are things with Belle? You guys still seeing each other?”

“Yeah.” Rumford nodded and cleared his throat, folding his arms over the bartop. “Yeah, we're still… seeing each other. As much as we can, at least.”

Time for another sip.

David motioned for the bartender. “And how's that working out?”

“Good…” he mumbled. “I think.”

“You think?” David chuckled. “Well, do you like spending time with her?”

Rumford rolled his eyes. “Of course I do!”

“The distance is pretty tough though, huh?”

Rumford bobbed his head from side to side for a moment. “It's… not ideal.” he admitted. “But… we still talk, exchange letters.”

David raised his brows. “Letters? As in– snail mail?”

“Why?” he shot back defensively. “What's wrong with that?”

“Nothing! Nothing.” he said. “Just–”

“We... like the personal touch.” Rumford said, his voice sounding far too high in pitch for his liking. “And having something physical–”

“No, I get it.” David assured. “It sounds really romantic.”

Rumford took a deep breath, easing his posture.

Damned right, he thought. He was an utterly romantic fool! He could admit that to himself! Just not out loud.

“I visited her, last weekend.” Rumford said. “It was… nice. We… we had a lovely time together.”

“You don't seem… too enthusiastic.” David observed.

“No, it's fine.” he shrugged.

“You sure?” David grinned. “Because a month ago, you were waxing poetic about this woman over the phone to me. Something about... the first day of spring?”

Rumford scowled. He'd almost successfully forgotten about that conversation.

“Like I said. If you got something on your mind, man, you can tell me.”

Rumford glanced around the bar for a moment, doing his best to stall until the bartender returned with their drinks.

“Can I– I know you said– and if I'm crossing a line, please.” Rumford stammered, and at last his glass was set down in front of him. “But I-I-I have a question.” he finished, and rushed to take a heavy swig.

David raised a brow. “Okay…”

“About, well, the…” Rumford shifted closer and lowered his voice to a whisper, ignoring the tightness in his chest. “The other other thing.” he said. “The bees.”

“Oh.” David's eyes went wide, despite how hard he was clearly trying not to let them. “What about the uh, bees?”

God, how did he ever think this was a good idea? For even a fraction of a second?

But it was too late now. He'd already said the word. Bees.

“Just– it– well, Belle and I.” Rumford said. “W-we had dinner at her place, and then we were on the couch and we were talking… and the talking turned into cuddling and the cuddling turned into kissing and– well, then she… made her intentions clear.” he whispered. “That she… wanted to… have her flower pollin–”

“Okay!” David interrupted, slamming his bottle down to cut him off. “You know, you don't have to use the euphemism, it's… just...”

“Oh.” he drew back and looked away. “I'm sorry, I–”

“Just, sex.” David said. “You can say sex. She wanted to have sex.”

“Yes.” Rumford exhaled and coughed. “Sex. Sexual… intercourse.”

Now that he said the word, it didn't seem so bad, did it? Sex, sex, sex. Sexy sex. Sexual sexiness. Just a bisexual man talking about his sex life with his sexy girlfriend.

“So… I take it you didn't want to?”

“Well– not exactly.” Rumford shrugged. “I mean, Belle's… stunning. With gorgeous, sexy eyes, and legs that go on for–”

“Rum–”

“–and she does this thing where she bites her lip that makes–”

“Alright.” David chuckled uncomfortably and held up his hand, signaling for him to stop. “Got it, got it. She's uh… she's hot.”

Rumford scoffed. “Now, there's an understatement. Everything about her just–”

David cleared his throat pointedly. “You said you had a question?”

“Right. Yes.” he coughed. Tossing a quick glance over his shoulder, he leaned in closely again. “Is it… normal? These days? To… well, to make love without… having said the words?”

David set his bottle down and leaned back in his seat, letting out a deep sigh.

That couldn't have been a good sign.

He blinked and raised his brows. “I mean, sure.” he shrugged, gesturing limply with his hand. “Plenty of people have sex without being in love first.”

“Because I… I wanted to, but– well, it felt wrong.”

David looked at him with furrowed brows. “Rum, she didn't… pressure you into any–”

“No! Heaven's no!” Rumford said. “I told her I wasn’t ready and we played Boggle instead!”

“Oh,” he relaxed. “Thank God.”

“God! What sort of woman do you think Belle is!?”

“Nothing! Nothing! I'm sure she's wonderful,” David said. “Just– looking out for you, man.”

“Oh. Well…” Rumford swallowed. “Thank you.”

David chugged his beer down to the label and set it down with a sigh. “So let me get this straight– she was ready to, and you were… interested . But you decided you'd rather wait?”

“Aye. But–” Rumford tilted his head from side to side in hesitation. “I don't know! It's just that the last woman I– the only person I was ever with was my ex-wife.” he confessed– and by God, did it sound embarrassing when he said it out loud like that.

David gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “And you're not sure if you're ready to share that with another person?”

“Eh… it's not quite that, I don't think.” Rumford dismissed, shaking his head. “It's just... I like Belle! A lot! I'd like to… be intimate with her. It's certainly been long enough for me that I think I'm ready to do that again. But isn't it too soon? For us? Or am I being too old-fashioned?” he asked. “Because I-I always felt… it should be about love, you know? Showing how you feel. And I know I have feelings for Belle. Good, strong feelings. But Milah and I knew each other for almost a year before we– I met Belle little more than a month ago.”

“Alright. Look, Rum.” David said, making a decisive gesture with his hand. “Whether you want to wait or not, or how long you wait, is up to you. Be it after x amount of dates or months, or until however long it takes to say you love each other, until you’re married, or whatever. There's no wrong choice there. But sex doesn't always have to be about… making love. It can just be about... having fun and making each other feel good. Or something in-between. The important thing is that you're both on the same page about it.”

Rumford let out a heavy sigh. “Ah suppose.”

“Just… honesty, man. Communication. Talk to her about it.”

“Talk to her.” Rumford muttered.

It seemed talking was David's solution for everything!

But talking was hard! At least, the kind of talking he was referring to– the kind that involved being vulnerable! It was so much easier to just flirt and make Belle smile and blush and giggle!

Because the more Belle knew about him, the more likely it was that she'd… realize how boring he was, and leave him for somebody more sexy and exciting. Like the roofer.

Rumford tapped a finger on his glass and sighed. “I don't think it's just that though. Th-the sex, I mean.”

David paused, his bottle hovering a inch from his lips. “No?”

“You know… what if it doesn't work out?”

He set his beer down and tilted his head at him.

“Being with Belle.” Rumford said. “I-it's made me realize how much I missed… having someone, you know? But I'm forty-five years old. I'm no’ getting any younger. If I'm gonnae… see somebody, I want to know that they're…”

Interested in getting married and having children?

Growing old and grey together?

Never going to leave me?

“...Looking for something serious?” David offered.

“Aye.”

Looking for something serious. That was good! That sounded far less pathetic!

Rumford cleared his throat. “We were talking on the phone Monday, and she mentioned that she loved kids and it hit me, you know? I know I want to have more kids but what about her? What if she doesn't?”

“I don't understand. You just said she told you she loves kids.”

“Aye, but liking kids and wanting to have your own are very different things. I-it just seems like we ought to talk about those things, doesn't it?”

“Eh…” David hesitated.

“Or is it too soon to talk about that? Because what we have so far is… it's nice. And I don't wannae scare her away by bringing those things up, but…”

“You're worried she just wants something casual and that you're heading towards a dead-end?”

Rumford nodded. “I can't do casual, David. I don't want casual. I don't even know what that means!” he said, looking around the bar helplessly. “It sounds sad!”

“Hey, now. Relax.” David said, setting a hand on his arm to ground him.

“I never should have gone on that first date with her,” Rumford sighed. “Then I wouldn't be in this mess with all these feelings, David.”

“No, don't say that.” he said. “The way I see it? If it's not too soon for you to be worrying about those things, it's not too soon for you to talk about them with her. It's a conversation every new relationship needs to have at some point, what the expectations are.”

Rumford looked at him with a pained expression.

Was it?

He and Milah had never really had that conversation. They’d studied together, fallen into bed a few times, and next thing he knew she was carrying his child and they were getting married.

How did one have that conversation, anyway? The thought of asking Belle if they were serious or not was nauseating! After all, what if she said no? It wasn't like there was a subtle, approachable way to say, I think I'm falling in love with you– but before you say anything, you should also know that I want to have more children someday and if you're not down with that, then we should just quit while we're ahead.

“Just be open about it.” David said. “It's uncomfortable and it'll be tempting to be as brief as possible, but take her through your thought process. All of it. From the… sex, to the… you know. Other, big picture stuff.”

“But what if she–”

“Look. I can't promise you how she'll react,” David said. “Maybe she'll decide she's not ready for all that and break things off. Or maybe she feels the same way and she'll be relieved. But if it's something you know you want, avoiding that conversation would just be torturing yourself.”

His mouth flopped open and closed. “I should at least wait though, right? I-I mean–”

“OK. Then wait how long?” David asked. He inched into his space, and Rumford couldn't help shrinking in his seat a little. “A month? Two months? Three? Let it fester for six? ...A year?”

Yes! Festering for a year sounded perfect!

“Trust me.” David said, giving him a pat on the back. “Best to just nip these things in the bud.”

Rumford grumbled and looked away. Damn David. Always being so… sensible about things.

“So, you'll tell her?”

He looked at his glass and let out a huff of resignation. “I'll… try.”

David shrugged. “You deserve to be happy, man, is all I'm saying. You know what you want– you shouldn't have to hide or apologize for it.”

Rumford rubbed a hand over his mouth.

Wanting things and not apologizing for the inevitable burden those foolish desires place on the people around you?

People did that?

But how?

It certainly made things seem so much more simple, he had to admit.

Why did you do that? Why are you telling me this?

Because I bloody well wanted to, that's why!

Rumford scoffed.

Of course! So simple!

He smiled and gave David's hand a few pats. “Thank you.” he finally said. “For… listening. To all of that.”

“Sure thing.” David winked. “Any time.”

“Well–” Rumford hopped out of his chair. “David. It's been lovely, we should most certainly do this again... but I think I'd like to take the rest of the evening to reflect privately on the matters discussed.”

“Oh.” David blinked. “O-okay.”

“Have a wonderful evening, and give Emma and Mary Margaret my regards.” he said, straightening his jacket and spinning on his heels toward the door.

“Gold, wait–”

Rumford froze and looked over his shoulder, brows raised expectantly.

David shook his head and laughed. “You gotta pay your bill, man.”

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #fic: the boston hour

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lifeisdabubbles-undersalmondean · 3 years

Text

La Pomme ~ Chapter 17

Pairing: Sam x OC (eventual Dean x OC and Dean x Castiel. And I mean eventual.)

Series summary: George is a casual French-Mistake-universe Supernatural fan living in no-COVID 2020, who's life is upended when she's suddenly launched between realities, two years into the boys' past (S13E22). What begins as an insane, immersive fan experience turns into more when Jack goes missing and George offers up her AU information to help track him down. Soon it's discovered that she and Sam may actually have history. But that's impossible, right?

Word Count: 7,000

Warnings: {smut, fluff, angst, show level violence, swearing, mentions of suicide} ***Detailed warnings will be tagged for specific chapters.

A/N: Following the events of my prequel Paradise and second story From My Eyes Off. Reading those first gives context but isn’t necessary to start this one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

George had practically run all the way to Jack's door, but when she got there she hesitated. Back at the bunker they'd bonded a little, she thought; now, in the harsh light of the outside world and his near fatal injuries, she was less confident. Worried that she didn't belong there, she looked forlornly back at Dean as he caught up.

"What?" He wondered what the hold up was.

"Um," George wrung her hands and suggested, "...maybe we should wait for Sam?"

Dean read her nervousness and placed a hand on her upper back, pushing her gently, "Just go in. He asked to see you."

George let out a nervous groan and then pushed the door open lest she be shoved against it by Dean's strong hand.

Inside, she found Jack lying propped up in a small, twin sized bed, stitched and bandaged, listening politely to Lorna telling him how to cook the perfect egg. He appeared very alert and George was thankful he had his color. The image of his dead body from her dream flashed in her mind's eye quickly.

When the two of them came in, Jack's eyes lit up, interrupting Lorna excitedly, "George!"

She couldn't move her legs, as she fought hard to swallow the boulder-sized lump in her throat. As Jack started to sit up, Dean moved to the bed and adjusted his pillows to help prop him up.

Lorna took a hint and said, "Alright, well I took my lunch break to come home and check on the little miracle patient. Good news: still a miracle. And since he's doing so well, I should get back. There's plenty of food in the kitchen, feel free to help yourselves. I'm working a double." Both George and Dean thanked her profusely as she left, then turned back to Jack.

"You're OK!" Jack stated happily, addressing George.

She furrowed a brow at him and finally forced herself to walk over to the side Dean wasn't on, "Of course, I'm fine. How are yo-oh!" When she got close enough to him, he reached out and pulled her down into a tight hug. She felt awkward at first, again not used to hugging a lot of people. When she could feel how much the hug meant to him though, she relaxed into it, shifting to sit on the edge of his make-shift hospital bed. The built up tears spilled down her cheeks and she squeezed him comfortingly.

When he finally pulled back, she smiled, wiping her tears quickly with a blush, and asked, "How are you feeling? What was that about being a miracle patient?"

"According to Lorna, Jack's healing 'miraculously fast.' She seemed pretty surprised when she checked him over this morning," Dean explained with some uncertainty.

"Oh? What's-"

"We don't know," Dean answered with a shrug. "Best theory is maybe his grace is starting to grow back so he's healing himself, slowly?"

The three of them shared a confused expression, unsure what to think.

"Well… Good! As long as you're feeling better, that's all I care about."

"Yes, definitely better," He assured. Then added, "Happy to still be alive. A little surprised not to be dead, honestly." George frowned at him; he was so damn blunt sometimes. "Where's Sam?"

"He wasn't as quick to put his clothes on," Dean cracked.

"What?" Jack didn't understand.

"He means, he had to change," George corrected Dean, giving him a dagger stare, explaining further, "out of his PJs. He'll be here in a minute."

"Were you sleeping? You didn't have to wake them up for me," Jack scolded Dean lightly.

"Trust me, they were not sleeping," Dean laughed. George reached across Jack to punch him but the angle caused a white hot stabbing pain to radiate throughout her left side.

Her breath caught in her throat and she carefully shifted back to a comfortable position, muttering, "Ow, ow, ow."

"Are you OK?!" Dean and Jack asked simultaneously.

She placed a hand on her left hip and nodded, trying to catch her breath, "Yes, I'm fine. Just sore and my pain meds have evidently worn off."

"Oh, Lorna left you more…" Dean began, looking around the room for something. "There," he pointed to her side of the bed. On the nightstand she saw a small glass of water next to a cupcake wrapper with two large pills inside.

"Oh, that woman is a godsend!" She muttered, grabbing the items and downing the meds.

"I'll say!" The three of them turned their heads to find Sam in the doorway, holding another plate full of scones. He was now dressed in dark jeans and an olive green and black checkered button down. Taking another bite of the pastry in his hand, he mumbled excitedly, "Have you tried these?!"

When George laughed and nodded, Sam offered the plate to Dean. He quickly turned it down with a shake of his head, looking a little green. George smirked, assuming he'd had his fill. Sam placed the plate down on a side table and then came over to them. Shoving his brother out of the way, he leaned down and gave Jack a bear hug.

"Sam," Jack said happily, hugging him tight. When they separated Jack looked around with a smile, Sam squeezing his shoulders lovingly, "I'm so grateful to see you all." He looked between Dean and Sam, "How did you find me?"

Sam and Dean turned toward George pointedly and she blushed bright red.

With a nervous chuckle, she shrunk herself down a bit, admitting, "Uh, oh, well I--I… uh, I guess I helped with that a little." The brother's gave her matching perturbed expressions and she smiled weakly, "A lot?"

"What's going on?" Jack asked, reading the situation fairly accurately. "Am I missing something?"

They continued to wait for her to respond and she huffed a bit, "It's just--it's kind of a long, complicated story. And also, maybe we should start with Jack. How did you even get here?"

The diversion worked as the boys instantly looked at Jack and he began to explain, "Tilly brought me here. It's kind of weird. The night I left, Tim came to talk to me. He told me Sam was back from his hunt and wanted to see me in the garage. When I got there, I walked in on Tilly killing a demon with an angel blade."

"Where'd she get an angel blade?" Sam wondered.

"She told me you gave it to her and asked her to come get me because you said you thought I was in danger. Told me the demon she'd killed was proof that Sam was right and that I should go with her. I guess I was just surprised by the demon and I believed her," He frowned apologetically. Dean's expression didn't change but Sam and George gave him sympathetic half-smiles. "Anyway, we got halfway through Utah before she finally admitted she wasn't working with Sam after all and that she was taking me to the angels. She seemed… kinda guilty about it."

"Why was she taking you to the angels?" Dean was furious.

"They got to her. Told her about heaven struggling without more angels and convinced her that I was the answer. They gave her the angel blade and told her to get me to Oregon at any cost."

"And she just… did as she was told by stranger angels?" George asked in confusion. "Why?"

Jack began to explain, "Tilly--"

"Was very devoted to her faith," Sam cut him off with a frustrated huff. "I remember. The angels must have sensed she was vulnerable."

"Wait, is Tilly the bible study lady?" George asked. Jack and Sam nodded in confirmation.

"Bible study lady?" Dean was confused.

Sam explained, "Tilly organized a bible study at the bunker amongst the refugees pretty quickly after we got back."

"Yeah! She found my room and knocked on the door one night, nearly scared the shit out of me. No one knew where I was staying and that room is purposefully hard to find."

"What did she want?" Dean asked.

"To invite me to bible study. I politely declined and she left," George shrugged. "Crazy how she found me though. I mean she must have followed me," She casually glanced at Sam and Dean, both of whom had thoughtful frowns, and joked, "Or she was casin' the joint--ooohhhh!" She nodded slowly as it dawned on her that Tilly must have found her room while exploring the bunker in secret, "She was casing the joint!"

Dean gave Sam an annoyed look, silently scolding him for letting the nutcase run amuk and Sam shrugged defensively, "I didn't know that's what she was doing!"

"Bible study?" He sneered.

"I wasn't about to tell anyone that had just traveled from an apocalyptic alternate universe that they couldn't practice their faith, Dean! I just thought she was trying to bring people some comfort. I didn't think she was hurting anyone!"

"Fuckin' zealots," Dean grumbled. Sam looked guilty.

"Where's Tilly now? Do the angels have her?" George asked, unaware of her fate.

"We found her body off the trail," Sam began, looking at Jack curiously. He added as an afterthought, "We actually need to go back and take care of it."

"The angel who came over to us back in the woods: Poyel. He killed her," Jack explained. "Tilly brought me to him and Duma just inside the trails. They were leading us to the other group; out of nowhere he thanked Tilly for 'serving her purpose' and then..." He trailed off and frowned deeply. "It happened so fast. T--There was nothing I could do," He admitted sadly.

"Jack," George placed her hand over his and squeezed.

"Don't feel too bad for her, she kidnapped you," Dean stated matter-of-factly. Jack's frown depended.

"Dean," Sam scolded.

"I think what Dean means to say is," George began pointedly, "what Tilly did, taking you to them, it was wrong. Of course she didn't deserve to die, but it's certainly not your fault that she died doing something wrong."

"She believed it was right," Jack argued sadly.

"Even so. The wrong thing done for the right reason is still the wrong thing," George said very wisely.

"Huh. Did you just come up with that?" Sam wondered curiously. Dean seemed equally impressed.

She blushed and admitted, "Nah. It's from Charmed. Phoebe uses her magic to kill a guy and when Piper and Prue try to break her out of jail to save her from execution, she's like 'no I did the crime, I have to do the time! We're supposed to protect the innocent, not punish the guilty'..." Looking back and forth between the brothers' matching bemused expressions she added proudly, "Reality Bites. Easily in the top five greatest Charmed episodes. I highly recommend a watch."

Dean stared at her blankly for a few moments before stating, "OK, seriously. You watch too much TV."

"That's rich coming from Doctor Sexy, MD's biggest fan. Give me a break!" She stuck her tongue out at him and he held his hands up in mock defeat. "Life wasn't exactly a fairytale and TV was an escape. Hey, and now it literally is!" She said with a cheeky smile to Sam. Then she gasped, "Oh my God, can you imagine if I'd ended up in the Charmed reality, instead of this one? What if I got powers? How cool would that be?!"

"I mean… We have witchcraft here that I can teach you, so..." Sam muttered quietly. After a pause and a frown, he huffed a little, "And, you didn't get any special abilities when you came here, so I don't really think it makes sense to assume that you'd have gotten powers if you'd gone there." George gave him an amused look, reading his mild irritation for the jealousy it was.

Jack seemed confused, "I feel like I missed something."

"You've missed quite a bit," Dean said bluntly.

"Not that much!" George downplayed.

"Why don't you tell Jack how you knew how to find him, then?" Dean challenge.

"Oh, right," George grimaced, realizing she'd forgotten to use her distraction to come up with a good explanation. With a nervous frown, she squeezed Jack's hand quickly before letting go and clasping her hands together, "OK, so here's the thing: I wasn't entirely honest with you when we first met. I'm not from the apocalypse world."

"I knew it!" Jack exclaimed. He knew he hadn't recognized her from the camp.

"Congrats, you called it," she gave him an amused smirk and then cleared her throat nervously, "I'm not from the camps, but I am from an alternate reality--a different alternate reality." Pausing to wipe the sweat that had formed on her brow, she took a deep breath. "In that reality, all of this--you, the brothers, your lives, monsters, heaven, hell, angels, demons--none of it is real. It's all just a show. On television. That I watch… watched? Am watching? Whatever. Anyway, because of the show, I knew who you all were before I came here. And also, even more strangely because why not, I'm kind of from the future. I seem to have come back to an older season of the show, one that already aired in my reality. So, like, I knew you were all going to make it back safely from apocalypse world, I knew you were going to lose your powers, I knew Dean was going to get possessed by Michael…" She looked at Dean apologetically; she was really trying to be sensitive to the fact that these were real people's lives she was now referring to. "And then when you turned up kidnapped, something about it seemed very familiar and I realized that in my reality there must be an episode of the show where you get kidnapped and taken to that Trees of Enigma place. And since you guys had just come back from apocalypse world and I knew your powers were gone, the timeline seemed to fit perfectly. So, I politely suggested that the guys tr-"

"You demanded that we go to Oregon," Dean corrected, but then added fairly, "And you were right." George gave him a small smile of appreciation and then looked back at Jack. The look on his face was indiscernible; she really hoped he wasn't angry that she lied to him.

"So, you knew us before we met you?" He asked curiously.

George nodded a bit, "Yes--well, sort of--I'd never met any of…" She trailed off, suddenly glancing at Sam and realizing that might not be true, "Er, uh, I mean, I knew of you. In my reality you're all characters, so I knew you about as much as you can 'know' Darth Vader." Jack looked thoughtful, like he was processing.

"And you knew where to find me because you saw it on TV?" Jack asked, blinking at them a few times, then looking between Sam and Dean.

"Er--essentially," George thought about clarifying for accuracy, since she hasn't actually seen the episode, but figured it wasn't important.

Sam gave him an apologetic grimace, offering some assistance, "It's true, Jack. George knows things she couldn't possibly know any other way. And actually Dean and I have been to that reality, once. A long time ago. The supernatural wasn't real, we weren't really brothers; we were just actors on a TV show, pretend-killing monsters with rubber weapons. It was… interesting."

At the same time, Dean spoke over him, "Weird as hell." George rolled her eyes a bit at his unwavering disdain for his alt reality fame.

"Jack, I know this may not hold that much weight right now, but I'm very sorry that I lied to you. I feel awful, I just didn-"

"It's OK, George. I understand. You lied because the truth seemed… unbelievable. I think it's safe to say we've all been there," He shrugged a bit with a smile, Dean and Sam giving expressions of clear agreement, and she looked relieved.

"I promise this is the only thing I ever lied to you about," She said, trying to assuage her guilt further.

Jack thought for a moment and then asked, "So, then you were telling the truth when you said you were single?"

Dean's eyebrows shot up in surprise and Sam frowned in confusion, looking at her curiously. George blushed. She had forgotten about the strange personal question he'd asked her out of the blue a few weeks ago during one of their video game sessions. It had come so nonchalantly, and she'd been so focused on the game, that she'd answered without thinking: "Since Tess Thompson hasn't returned my calls, I guess I'd have to say yes." His response was a distracted "Who's that?" but something in their game caught all their focus right after, so they continued on playing without another thought.

George blushed and stuttered, "Uh, ye--yes, I--I am! Why did you ask me that by the way?"

"Well, when Sam asked me if I knew, I didn't," Jack explained matter of factly, with a shrug. "So, I asked in case he asked me again and I could tell him." George instantly looked back at Sam in surprise and then looked away quickly, trying to hide her grin. She could feel the tips of her ears burning. She would have felt flattered but she was too busy being worried that Jack might have told Sam all the embarrassing things she'd asked Jack about him.

"Beautiful," Dean remarked, his own wide spreading grin appearing as he watched Sam fidget in embarrassment.

Before Sam could explain at all, Jack asked, "So, how much did you know about us before meeting us?"

Glancing at Sam again and grinning at his charming humiliation, she replied, "Uh, actually not that much. Remember I told you I liked that show, 'Friends'?"

"The funny one you said was about 'a guy who sleeps with another woman and then spends 7 seasons arguing it's no big deal'?" Jack asked, sounding like he was reciting her words back to her.

"Weren't they on a break?" Dean asked casually.

George's neck snapped toward him and she practically hissed, "Maybe but he slept with someone else. He doesn't get to be indignant when Rachel doesn't want him back after that!"

"I really wouldn't argue with her about it. Trust me," Jack warned, causing George to give him a teasingly dirty look.

"Anyway. So, obviously, you know I'm obsessed with that show; watched every episode countless times, know all the trivia, yadda yadda," George explained. Then continued, "I was objectively less obsessed with the show you're all from. Called Supernatural, by the way. I've seen most of it, 'cept the last two seasons, only once through and some reruns here and there--but that's about it. And your 'character' was fairly new to the show, so I've only seen one season with you. I know more about these two doofuses," She smirked, angling a thumb in the direction of Sam and Dean.

"Like what?" Jack asked, suddenly very curious.

Dean huffed a bit and interjected, "Wait, you're fine with all this? George's revelation. Just like that?"

Jack shrugged nonchalantly, "Stranger things have happened. Besides, it'd be cool to learn about your lives before me."

Dean and Sam looked a bit indignant and Dean defended, "What do you mean? We're open books, you can ask us anything!"

"Uh, Dean," George began with a smirk, "You're happy to tell about your successes--by the way have you ever killed Hitler?" He gave her a perturbed look and she continued with a chuckle, "But I find it hard to believe you're going to tell Jack about the time you pulled down your pants and shouted 'pudding' at a stranger?" George spoke slowly and enunciated each word for maximum impact. Dean's face fell instantly. Sam's, on the other hand, lit up like a Christmas tree at the memory, looking at Dean with a stupid, little brother grin on his face. She added, "Or about the time you got your ass kicked by fairies? Or when you became a dog in human form and bark-shouted at the postal worker? Oh, oh! OR the time you screamed bloody murder because you were scared of a widdle kitty cat?"

"Ah ha ha! I remember that! The Buruburu," Sam nodded, laughing along with George. Dean was glaring daggers at them. Sam looked at Jack and added gleefully, "It wasn't just cats--he was terrified of everything!"

"Like, literally, everything!" George buttressed with wide eyes, joyful eyes. "So funny." Then she looked at Jack and grinned, "Oh, hey! Have you ever been so annoyed by Dean that you maybe wondered what it might look like to see a piano fall on him? Well, there's an episode for that!" She and Jack laughed together and Dean looked confused. Sam gulped, sobering up suddenly.

"What? When did a piano fall on my head?"

George began to explain, "The myste-"

"Mystery spot," Sam interjected hoarsely. George looked at him, startled by the seriousness of his tone. Catching his eye, she gave him a questioning look. Quickly, he gave her a smile that didn't meet his eyes, waving her off gently.

"Oh, was that when Sam dreamt that I kept dying over and over again?"

"It wasn't a dream," George clarified quickly. "It was the trickster--or Gabriel? I'm still a little fuzzy on that whole situation honestly. But whomever it was, he had Sam in some kind of weird reality warp or time loop or his own virtual rat maze--whatever. I don't know exactly how it worked, but the experience was real. For Sam at least." She paused, smiling proudly at Dean's 'idgaf' face and continuing, "not real for you because you're obviously still alive," George finished. Then added as a quiet aside, "and a pain in my ass."

"Cute," Dean said sarcastically as she snickered. He offered, "How's about we rewind just a couple hours and talk about what you've been up to in Anne Frank's attic, hmm?"

She immediately stopped laughing and Sam snapped his head toward Dean. Sam looked like he was going to strangle the man.

She distracted quickly, reaching for the plate of scones on the desk and holding it up to Jack, "So, listen have you eaten? If you want to heal and get your strength up, you should probably eat something! Scone?" It sounded like a question but it wasn't one.

Sam shifted his foot on top of Dean's and discreetly pressed down hard.

Jack looked disappointed that they weren't staying on topic, but George quietly promised to fill him in later and he took the scone with a thankful smile. He ate slowly while the two brothers squabbled.

Once they quieted down, Jack asked George, "So how did you get here? To this reality?"

"Good question," Dean mused.

"Not really sure," George answered. "One minute I was in my apartment--coincidentally, watching Supernatural--and the next minute, I'm in the library at the bunker talking to Rowena. I guess she was doing some magic to keep the portal that Sam and Dean used to get to you in apocalypse world open. Somehow I came flying through it. That's as much as we know. Rowena has been MIA ever since and I was too nervous to tell anyone. Sam and Dean found out about me when you went missing and I was suspect numero uno."

"What?" Jack shook his head in disbelief. "Why would you be a suspect at all?" He looked between Sam and Dean with a stern expression. Sam looked guilty, Dean indignant yet apologetic.

George jumped in to defend them, "They were just doing their jobs. As far as they knew, I was the last one with you before you went missing. Long story short: Tim was a demon--a shitty one--he told them he saw us together and that I took you out of the bunker."

"Tim. He's the one who told me to go to the garage," Jack explained with a furrowed brow.

"Was he working with Tilly?" Sam asked in confusion.

Jack shook his head, "I doubt it; she hated him. Said he gave her the creeps."

George gave Dean and Sam a knowing expression, to which they looked sheepish. Then she offered, "He probably told Jack to go to the garage because he had set a trap for him?"

"The demon Tilly killed?" Jack guessed tentatively.

"Must have been," Dean nodded. "She comes looking for you, happens upon the demon, gets lucky, ices 'em, and uses it as her cover for getting you out of the house."

The four of them thought about it for a moment and then shrugged agreeably. It made as much sense as anything else at this point. Besides, their focus now needed to be keeping safe from the angels.

Jack broke the silence, suddenly looking at George nervously, "Wait, if you're not from this reality… does that mean you have to go back?"

George's mouth opened automatically to answer and then she froze, realizing she didn't know how. Of course she knew the answer was 'yes.' Obviously, yes, she had to go back. But when she tried to actually speak the words, it didn't feel so easy. She turned a bit pink, glancing at Sam and Dean briefly, then said weakly, "Another good question."

"One that needs some investigating," Sam answered Jack with an undertone of seriousness, subtly trying to catch George's eye, "but for now, we need to focus on getting you healed enough to travel home."

"Shouldn't be too long for that. Lorna said he was healing 'miraculously fast'," Dean offered with a skeptical tone. George grinned wide and squeezed Jack's hand tightly in happiness, but Sam was giving Dean a confused expression. Dean just shrugged and explained, "We're not sure how. Maybe his grace is coming back?"

"Hmm," Sam wasn't convinced, glancing between Jack and George slowly while he considered the information. After a moment he shrugged as well and said to Jack, "Well, no need to look a gift horse in the mouth yet. Besides, we also need to be prepared; with the amount of work they put into it, I would imagine the angels might not walk away from you so easily." He looked at Dean with concern and found him nodding in agreement.

"We should reinforce the warding. I'll call Cas; update him and see if there's anything stronger we can add," Dean said with a nod, whipping out his phone and dialing. When he left the room to make his phone call, Sam and George spent some time catching up with Jack.

The two of them tried to cheer him up from his feelings of guilt over Tilly, asked if he'd gotten any more insight on what the angel's were planning, and filled him in on their trip to find him, explaining a little bit more about George's other-wordly origins. George didn't move from his bedside; every so often she'd reach out to take Jack's hand and squeeze it tightly, relishing the warmth. She was so thrilled to see he was healing well, the image of his pale, dead body still looming in her subconscious.

______

A short while later, George walked into the cottage alone. She found Dean fresh out of the shower, toweling off his head. He was dressed in PJ pants and an old, faded whiskey brand shirt.

"Hiya!" George hadn't seen him since he left to call Cas. He nodded an acknowledgement and she told him, "Jack wanted to use the bathroom and take a shower, so Sam's helping. I see your stink finally got to you, too?" She jabbed with a chuckle.

"Hardy har," Dean smirked. "I was boosting the warding and things got messy."

"Well my nose thanks you either way," She cracked.

With a shake of his head he joked, "Are you familiar with the term 'little sister I never wanted'?"

George's impish smile faltered a bit and she shrugged, "Very." Dean furrowed his brow at her curiously and she explained with a shrug, "I have a brother; he's 10 years older. Travis."

"He's hard on you?" Dean asked, his tone much less gruff than she was used to.

"Very. We just never found any common ground, I guess; maybe 10 years was too big a gap or he was too big of a dick? It's a mystery," Dean huffed in amusement and she smiled. "Anyway, I was a surprise for the whole family and he'd gotten used to being a spoiled, only-child. At first, he had grand ideas of being the powerful, protective big brother whose baby sister was a perfect princess with stars in her eyes for him," George paused, seeming to get lost in her memories for a moment. After a beat she shrugged and smiled wryly, "He got me instead."

"A real princess," Dean said sarcastically with an amused smile.

She snorted, "Exactly! Though, in my defense his idea of being my protective big brother was just a lot of ordering me around and using me as the fall guy for everything."

"And?" He smirked like only an annoying big brother can. He clearly didn't see a problem with her description.

George rolled her eyes in frustration, "Ugh, you sound exactly like Ryan."

"Is that someone I should know?"

"Absolutely," George nodded definitively. "Remember? My-"

"Oh right, your friend, the--the--What'd you call her? Your 'Winchester Wiki'?" He shook his head in amusement.

"Exactly! My friend--my beautiful, smart, incredibly badass best friend and Supernatural savant, Ryan. Also like a sister to me; wonderfully supportive, helped me through a lot of shit, but does tend to favor the 'tough-love' approach," She said in a tone that indicated she knew Dean could relate. When he didn't immediately comment, she added, "She also never turns down a bourbon, makes the best pecan pie in all of Indiana--possibly the country--and she's got a fantastic pair of--" She waited for his eyebrow to raise curiously before finishing, "--.38 glocks." His face quickly dropped in only slight disappointment but she could tell he was intrigued, which made her smirk joyfully, "Got all kinds of fancy engravings. I don't know spit about guns, but they're cool as shit. And did I mention she was beautiful?"

"Once or twice," Dean mused, shaking his head with a half smile. "She sounds too good to be true."

"Well, that's what I thought about S-er, the two of you and look where we are, now?" She joked. "She's definitely not too good to be true, but she is a bit geographically undesirable at present..."

"You trying to fix me up?" Dean snorted.

"Oh that's crazy, don't be ridiculous!" She laughed, waving him off. "I mean, how could I possibly even pull that off…" Trailing off slowly, Dean narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. When it seemed like she was actually considering the possibilities, he cleared his throat pointedly, snapping her out of her thoughts. With a chuckle, she refocused, "Er, anyway! My brother? Right, yes, well when my independence got in the way of his award for world's best brother, he turned on me; kinda became the thing I could have used a big brother to protect me from. He never saw the irony there," She joked, trying to keep the mood light, but Dean could tell it was a painful subject for her.

After a moment of awkward silence, Dean apologized, "Well, sorry if I-"

George waved him off, "No, please. You're fine. As annoying as you are, the big brother vibe I'm getting is far less hostile than Travis' was--is. Is." She had to remember to speak in the present tense. Her family wasn't dead, they just didn't exist. Here. Shaking the confusing thoughts from her head she added, "Besides, it's not exactly his fault; I could have let him be the brother he wanted to be. I just never felt like I needed protecting."

Dean chortled quickly, "Because you're so tough?" George narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance but it's not like she could argue. Suddenly, Dean's expression changed to a thoughtful one. He set down his towel, "Speakin'a which, c'mere."

Motioning for her to follow, he walked to the small, 8' x 8' open space in the main room. He placed two hands on her shoulders and maneuvered her into position close to the edge of the square, near the back of the loveseat.

"What are we doing?" She asked in confusion, though still allowing him to move her.

"Teaching you how to protect yourself." His tone was matter-of-fact. She assumed Dean didn't take the time to train people he didn't think were capable, so it surprised her. Feeling very honored, she ignored her immediate instincts to argue with him and tried to pay attention.

Tapping her body in certain spots as he spoke he instructed, "Active stance--allows you to move quickly. Keep most of your weight on the balls of your feet, bend your knees a bit. Right or left handed?"

"Uh--right!" She answered hastily.

He placed a hand on her right shoulder and pressed it backward, "Position yourself to the side, dominant side furthest from your opponent." He lifted clenched fists to his cheeks and instructed, "Keep your hands up here. About at your cheeks. Makes it so you can throw punches fast and still protect your face." She lifted her hands, too, mimicking his movements. "Rule number one when fighting monsters: there are no rules. Their goal is to kill you. Your goal is to survive, and you aren't bound by any etiquette, so you do whatever you have to."

"Fuck politeness, got it," She nodded understandingly.

"You want to aim for anything squishy: eyes, cheeks, nose, throat, stomach--"

"Nads?" She interjected with a chuckle.

"Well, yes and no; it's not going to slow down demons or angels the same way it would slow me down. That being said, it's as good a place as any to stab. Use everything you can: your hands, your nails, your teeth, your feet, your body weight. Even your environment; look for things you can grab and swing, furniture you can use to trip them up with, any distractions you have at your disposal is fair game." As he spoke, he pointed to things around the room she could potentially use for defense. "And almost anything can be a weapon. One time, I even used a pen! But, don't try that right away. It's an advanced skill," He added with a smug tone of caution. She had to hide her eye roll.

When he was done impressing upon her the importance of creativity and resourcefulness, they spent about 15 minutes on proper stance and positioning. Dean then had her practicing a few punches into his hand. He watched her closely, providing quick, direct corrections that she tried her best to keep up with.

"OK, good," He praised flatly when she finally landed a succession of strong punches into his palm. He positioned himself in front of her as an opponent and ordered, "Now, try to punch me in the face."

George hesitated, dropping her shoulders a bit, "What?"

Dean quickly moved over to her and roughly shifted her body back into position. "I said," He then moved back in front of her, "Try to punch me in the face."

"...Are you sure?" She asked curiously. She couldn't deny that it did sound like fun.

Dean smirked smugly, "I'm sure. Try to punch me."

Hesitating for only a moment more before doing her best to maintain the ideal stance, she swung and missed predictably. He corrected a few things and advised, "You've got a good stance, you need to focus on follow-through; don't hold back because you think you might hurt me. Remember when you thought I was Michael and you came at me with the cleaver?"

George nodded, remembering, "Right, I do. That was terrifying--thought you were going to kill me."

"Exactly. You gotta use that fear and commit. And remember what I said: be creative, use all your resources. Just because you missed the first swing doesn't mean you need to stop."

Not entirely sure how to interpret his advice--was she supposed to grab a lamp and start swinging?--she mainly corrected her posture and tried three more times. She missed each time, but was improving.

She got back into position and took a determined breath, focusing her energy on landing her knuckles across his cocky face. Just as she was about to swing the cottage door opened and Sam walked in. Dean turned slightly to look at him and without thinking George swung as hard as she could. Her third knuckle took the brunt as she landed her fist on the top of his cheekbone and he jerked back slightly, letting out a grunt of pain and shock.

"Ow!" She howled, holding her now throbbing hand gently. Then, she stared at Dean, who was holding his hand up over his cheek. In shock, she blurted, "Oh my god, I--!"

"You punched me!" Dean shouted indignantly.

"I did!" She shouted happily back.

"Fuckin' cheap shot," Dean was annoyed but it was waning by the second, realizing he was actually impressed at how good the hit had been. For her, anyway.

"You told me to use any distraction! When you looked away, I saw my opportunity," George grinned proudly, her eyes wide still; she couldn't believe she'd actually hit him. Holding her hand tenderly, she looked at Sam with an amazed grin, "I punched Dean Winchester!" Sam was confused but her pride was charming, so he gave a small thumbs up and smiled. Walking over to her, he inspected her hand carefully for injury.

Dean walked over to the freezer, shaking his head, "Yea, yea, yea. Not bad, it might even leave a mark." Though his form of praise seemed sarcastic, he said it with sincerity causing her to beam. The only things in the freezer were a can of juice concentrate and an ice tray, both of which he pulled out and set on the counter, "but you still need to practice landing the hits when there aren't any distractions."

She rolled her eyes at his perfectionism and looked at Sam, who was gently poking and prodding her sore fingers, "Is he always like this?"

"Pfft. Didn't you say you watched the show?" Sam joked, guiding her over to the sink where Dean was wrapping some ice cubes in a dish towel. When they got close, Dean handed her the makeshift ice pack. Sam took it before she could and maneuvered her hand to rest gently, palm down in his, assessing, "It was a good punch but you want to try to land primarily with these top two knuckles." Sam kept hold of the ice pack with three fingers and extended his first two, placing them gently on her top two knuckles in demonstration. He explained, "They're the strongest. These back two are much weaker and very easily broken, or in your case, badly bruised. Boxing lessons?" Sam then asked his brother with a smirk. Dean shrugged affirmatively.

"How is it that I land a good punch and end up in more pain than you?" George grumbled at Dean, slowly getting distracted by Sam's tenderness.

"He's had more practice being punched than you've had punching people," Sam quipped, moving to lay the ice pack against her knuckles.

"That's very presumptuous-oowww! Son of a bitch!" She growled at him, flinching when the cold, stiff material pressed against her injury.

"Is it?" Sam teased her, pulling her hand back firmly, yet carefully, and placing the ice pack down more gently. George shivered a bit; from the icy temperature, of course, certainly not from his manhandling.

"Princess says what," Dean muttered at her with a laugh. Clearly having heard him, she stuck her tongue out at him quickly. Dean held the juice concentrate up to his cheek with a smirk, "Probably gonna need some more pain meds."

"Oh, actually that's why I came looking for you," Sam interjected, looking down at her. "Jack fell asleep after I got him dressed and back in bed. Thanks for changing the sheets, by the way," He smiled gratefully and she smiled back with a bit of a blush, her fingers wiggling against his palm.

"You're welcome," She murmured softly.

Sam paused, getting lost in her eyes, then explained, "Um, anyway, Lorna called and instructed me to give Jack his next round of fluids and meds. Figured you might need some too." The two lovebirds stared at each other for a beat, before Sam nodded toward his pants, "The pills are in my pocket." George momentarily considered reaching her uninjured hand into his front pocket and feeling around; when she met his eye briefly, she could tell he had the same thought. They both blushed.

"For fucks sake, you two," Dean scolded them, turning away to grab a glass of water. He considered tossing it on them.

"Uh, here--why don't I--" George awkwardly reached up and took the ice pack from Sam's hand, freeing him up to reach into his pocket for the pills. She set the rag of ice down carefully on the counter top to be able to then take the pills from him. Tossing them into her mouth, she took the water from Dean next and quickly gulped them down.

"Blech!" She hated the feeling of medicine on her tongue.

Sam grabbed the ice pack quickly and took her hand again, placing the ice gingerly on top. They began sharing googly eyes at each other once more. Dean rolled his eyes when they started giggling for no reason; he could tell his brother had it bad.

"Alright, well, if Jack's down, then I'm going to hit the sack, too. You crazy kids have fun." As much as he wanted to enjoy this, he figured he'd give Sam a break just this once. Maybe he was going soft. Or not, "Try to remember, the walls are thin and there are no doors, so keep the moaning down to a dull roar." With a smug smirk he headed up the stairs.

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