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teeswrites · 3 years

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what about feeling homesickness and Calum comforting her?

thaxxx! i changed a bit, hope you like ❤

Home

He was standing in front of her house, it's was a fresh end of the afternoon in LA, with a cool wind and a pink-shaded sunset. He had a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other one was resting at his side after he knocked on the door. She opened and locked it with her key "night" he checked his iPhone '5:57 pm' "almost night. And you are gorgeous. As always" "thanks, you are too" she directed her gaze to the cigarette quickly, but not quickly as he dropped it onto the ground and stubbed his foot in it. She hated when he smoked. "thought you were going to quit" "I will" "yeah and I will fly away from this damn city" "what is wrong with LA?" "It isn't home" he knew she missed her hometown, Milwaukee, and he also knew she had duties in LA and she knew that too "babe..." "It's alright" she breathed deeply before look at her boyfriend and smile "thought we were going, huh?" "Yeah, sure, let's go" "let's go" he took her hand in his empty one and they walked to her car. She had a glowing conversible candy apple red 1966 Ford Mustang that Calum was never allowed to drive "why I cannot drive?" "You know why" "oh, come on. It's old shit, honey" "no! Almost kill me isn't 'old shit'" "was an accident and you just broke an ankle" "A leg" she sat on the driver's seat and he watched how good she looked in the sunset "hey!" She snapped her fingers "aren't you coming in?" "fuck! Sorry. it's your fault!" he jumped into the car and put on the seat belt "I will not apologize for you having a terrible sense of beauty" she had low self-esteem sometimes "my sense of beauty is perfect" he leaned closer and cupped her face "just as you" "you are perfect" she smiled and pulled his neck to a passionate kiss. A calm and warm, but passionate kiss "but, seriously babe, let me drive" "no!" she turned on the engine, adjusted the mirror and backed up the car from the driveway without taking her gaze from the mirrors "that's how you back up the car with safety" he groaned, throwing his head back "It happened once! And it was an accident" "I know, just recalling" she winked and made the way for the downtown.

Last year, before they started dating, she asked Calum to back the car out of the driveway, but he did it without looking in the mirrors, according to himself "who the fuck know the right side of pen drives?" and ran over her. Accidently, of course. For luck, she just broke a leg and he took care of her, and due it, they become closer. "You know, there're some bad things that happen for good reasons" "I thought we were done with this subject" he squeezed her right hand "if I haven't given all my attention to the damn pen drive and ran over you, maybe we'd not become closer as we did" "yeah... fine, I will let you drive" she parked the car left the driver's seat "move on, Cal!" he stood up and gave her a deep and quick kiss before sat down in the driver seat and squeeze the beige leather steering wheel "I love you" "love you too, but now I'm fucking dying to know where we're going" "you were driving and I have to know?!" "yes, Mr. driver" she teased, he giggled "fine. Know a place" "good".

They were on a road that she didn't recognize "Calum" "my name" he loved when she said his name "where are we going?" "It's a surprise" "oh no. Please, don't do this to me" "sorry, babe. I didn't make the rules" "which rules?" they laughed together "okay" she turned on the radio and tried to connect with some decent station "fuck" "you know you can use your pen drive, right?" she had taken the pen drive off the car "not with you in the wheel" you know, just for caution. he rolled his eyes and she finally connected with some Latin radio station

'Once de la noche y todavía no contesta'

'Un de la mañana y todavía no hay respuesta'

"Oh, no! No way!" "What?" "I am not bilingual like you" "and...?" "Not listening to something I do not understand" "so are you graduated in Korean now?" "No..."

'Cómo hacerte entender...'

he swallowed dryly a little "don't know what are you talking about" "no? What about that time you got drunk and sang out loud BTS's songs, huh?" "Only the English parts! Now just change it" "but it's Maluma!" he looked at her without blinking and pouted "fine" he smiled like a kid

'... eres muy bonita pa' llorar por el...'

She changed the radio station once more and found a random one

'Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment

I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?'

"You got to be kidding me" she giggled "I hate this song!" "I know" she kept laughing

'You got to keep me focused, you want it? Say so'

"Just turned it off" "oh, but I like it" Calum turned off the radio "no songs for you" "hey, that's my car! Spent lots of money on it" "But I am driving" "don't make me feel more regret than I already am" he laughed and leaned quickly to kiss her cheek "hey, Cal" "hum?" "I am bored" "you're acting like a fucking kid" "no. I am a fucking kid" "well, it's not a long ride. We'll be there soon" "where is 'there'?" "Nice try, nice try" she pouted and laid her head on the window so she could stargaze and think about how lucky she is to had been run over by the man driving at her side. She was so so in love with him.

Flashback:

Some friends had texted her. Bon Jovi was going to be in town and they have two tickets more. They gave it to her of course expecting she'd invite that guy she hanged out a few times, definitely her new crush. Calum. Such a beautiful name 'thanks Roy' he had introduced them. For some miracle, she got the guts to invite him.

[4:28pm]

'Be here at 6pm'

[5:17pm]

'Your place is so far from where I am now'

'You can drive my car'

'will be there in 40 minutes'

She grinned, shook her head lightly and blocked her phone to finish her makeup 'he will never desire me' she thought even knowing she will try to impress him anyways. Was 5:55pm when he arrived "I have exactly 2 minutes in advantage" "you made it, next time I will let you have a rest" "thanks" he pecked her cheek out of breath "are you ok?" "Yes, you are just breathtaking" he laughed "oh, I am not" "yes, you're. Always" she blushed "thanks" "you're welcome. Can I have a glass of water? The bus stop is far from here, you know?" "Yeah, sure come in". She gave him a glass of water and dropped on the sofa "thanks" "how can I refuse water for someone? Especially someone like you" he arched an eyebrown "someone like me?" "Yeah" "how is someone like me?" he dropped next to her "ridiculously healthy" "oh" he giggled "thanks. I really appreciate" "so, where were you?" "someone is interested in where I was" he teased, she rolled er eyes "you love annoy me, don't you?" "And you still have to ask? Anyhow, I was hanging with a friend" "'hanging with a friend' means banging with a girl?" "What?!" He started laughing "are you jealous or something?" "No..." She blushed "just trying to know you better" "so why are you blushing?" "I..." "Relax, I was with Luke. He is planning a trip to our home country with Ash and Mikey too. So we went out to lunch, but he lives far from here..." her body relaxed and she smiled "Australia is very nice" "is the best place in the world" "yeah, except the fact that is not Minnesota" he laughed "keep dreaming, kid" "I am two months older than you" "whatever, ms. jealousy" "'m not jealous!" "you looked so relieved when I said I was with Luke" "I didn't" "it's ok, I already admitted to myself that my love life is a joke anyways" "I bet it's not true" "trust me, it is" "thought you were the kind of guy that spent the night in 3 parties and in this 3 parties, hook up with at least 2 girls. At the same time" he laughed out loud "oh, honey, I used to be that guy, and now I am feeling very proud of myself" she giggled "why you are not that guy anymore?" He cleaned his throat "well, I met this lady, some months ago, and now all I do is think on her. I made out with someone a few days ago and couldn't finish the job, because was thinking on her" 'wow that hurted' "wow... You should be with this girl right now, not with me" he looked at her, 'unfreakingbelievable' "I literally made an hour and a half trajectory in 40 minutes to go in a concert just to be in your company cause' honestly I am not going to this concert because I want to see old Jon Bon Jovi sing 'bed of roses' and take ladies to Heaven..." she giggled "why do you think I did that?" "'Cause you're an idiot" he grinned "you are right, I should be with the my romantic interest" she frowned a little and they just stayed looking inside each other's eyes for a minute "I-I think we should go" it felt like he raped her with his gaze "are you ok?" "I dunno" "alright, tell me if you will need an ambulance" "okay" "so, where is that bad boy keys?" she chuckled "here" she gave to Calum the key "please, be careful" "my middle name is safety" "really? I thought was Tomas" "details, details". They were on the driveway ready to go when she saw Ginger, her cat, with the paw stuck in the water drainage grid "oh! wait a minute" she left the car "what's wrong?" "My cat. you can back the car while I help Ginger?" "no problem. Am I allowed to listen some music, too?" "Sure. The pen drive is in the glove compartment" "'kay". she ran to Ginger to help her little baby "my God, love, I am here" Calum grabbed the pen drive in the glove compartment and started back the car slowly without looking in the mirrors "well, it's done, Ginger. You are free now" she freed her cat that ran back to the roof. Calum was fighting with the pen drive's USB entrance "why I never put that shit on the right side?" and he forgot that he was backing the car. She turned to went back to the car or they would be late and all she could see was the car's trunk colliding with her hip. When he stopped the

car she was already on the floor. She definitely needed that ambulance now.

He took her to the hospital and then back to her place. He locked the front door and she dropped onto the sofa, now with a broken leg "that was the last time you drove my car" "you're sure?" he joined her on the sofa "you will need someone to help you during the next two weeks" "I have other friends..." "So we are still friends?" "Yes" "I am sorry for ran over you" "yeah, be mad with you will not change what happened" "it's because of this that I will be the one who will take care of you. Remember? My middle name is carefulness" "Wasn't safety?" "Is a long full name, see? Calum Safety-Careful Tomas Hood" "hum, I don't think so" they laughed "sorry, again" "stop apologizing and start looking for a driver costume" "I will not do that" "why not? Would be so sexy" she bit her bottom lip "you think?" "You are already sexy so..." "I'm" they laughed "okay, you don't need a costume, but I will need help in the shower, instead" "I will love to help you with the shower" "I was thinking in call Roy" "call Roy?!" he looked a little angry "you should see your face. And I am the jealous one here" "well, I just maybe, just very very maybe am into you" she smiled and blushed a little "I am into you too" "you are saying that only because do not get turned on by Jon Bon Jovi tonight" she laughed "And you are saying this only because you ran over my leg" he turned his grin to a line "No. I really mean it" "me too" she bit her bottom lip and he smiled again "but… unfortunately, you are not literally into me" "not for too long" soon the distance between them became minimum and in a blink of eye, they kissed. They kissed like already did that for years, like their lips met each other already before, even being the first time. Calum laid her back on the sofa and things started to get hotter, soon her Bon Jovi's tank top flew across the living room. She broke the kiss "what are you doing?" "I am trying to make up, because of the concert. Do you mind?" she smiled "you really know how to fix up the things" and they kissed again, now his black tee was off and...

"Honey, 're you alright?" Calum took her off the flashback "oh, yes. Was thinking in the first time we fucked" he laughed "so delicate" "sorry, the first time we 'made love'" "uh, that was bad" she laughed "thanks for ran over me, by the way" "only you for thanks the idiot that ran over you" "well, you are an idiot, but you are my idiot" "possessive" but he was hers and he loved that "oh, shut up" he laughed "so, was thinking in the week after your leg was better, huh?" "That wasn't the first time we fucked" "It was" "no, we fucked after you took me home in the night it happened" "no, no. I fucked you that night and I thought we had fucked, but three weeks later I discovered that I was wrong" "I am not..." "The way you move, babe, when you were with the broken leg wasn't sex with you, was sex for you" she laughed "It should be a compliment?" "Yes. And a good one" "well, in that case, thank you very much" she directed her gaze back to the sky and he looked at her, he was so in love

About 30 minutes later, Calum was taking the exit on the road to Santa Monica, she had read that in a sign. "Santa Monica!" "yup" "the pier?" "Yes" "oh, you know I love a pier, is…" "…so romantic" she laughed at him pretending to be her "but, we are not here specifically because of the pier" "so why?" "You will see" "please, stop. It's killing me" "oh, you're such a drama queen" he parked the car and turned off the engine "let's go". He tugged her to the amusement park "that's so exciting! what are we gonna do?" "fucking kid" she giggled "we'll play hockey" "what?!" he guided her to the Playland Arcade "that's..." she was confused that couldn't even talk "there's a lot..." "air hockey tables? yes" "but..." "Look, I know that do not have ice and is not real hockey, but I thought you'd enjoy" he rubbed the side of his neck "hockey remembers you home, right?" she had some water on her eyes and a true smile "I would like everything since it came from you" he smiled and flipped the disk "so, let's see if the Milwaukee girl still in flames" "you definitely know nothing about Winsconsin"

She won, of course "Badgers rocked your ass Aussie boy!" as she said, and they decided to rest on the pier, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her body "that was lovely" "me losing or your very kind comment about it?" she giggled "no. You remembered the air hockey here and tried to diminish my homesickness" "I understand how bad it is" "thank you" "no, thank you" "for what?" "To be with me, to love me, I was taking the wrong way before met you, you know?" "Well, shout out to Roy" "shout out to Roy" he repeated and they laughed "I was thinking in buy a ticket for you. To go home for a few days..." she looked into his eyes "what do you think?" "don't" she said smoothly "you sure? I have been saving money to paying the first tax to a car mortgage, but it can wait..." "No, Cal. Buy your car" "but you miss home" "yes, I miss it, but..." she cupped his face "I have you here and I realized... my home is you" he smiled and dipped to kiss her. She rested her head back on his shoulder and watched the moonlight reflecting in the ocean "and you are mine" he whispered against her hair. she smiled and enjoyed his company, she was so in love with him and he was so in love with her.

suggested playlist:

#anon #request #5sos imagine #calum hood blurbs #calum hood #calum 5sos #5sos fluff #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood fluff

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thetaoofzoe · 4 years

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FIC Pt 10: Only August Walker knows how Ethan Hunt dies 1/1

Summary: You are a medic and a member of what’s left of The Apostles. August Walker has been found alive and thanks to you and your team, he’s well on the mend. And now REVENGE!

Ilsa was the first, second was Luther and then Benji met his maker. And now ETHAN MUST DIE.

You and August get even closer like a cute little MURDER couple. This is the end of A Month of August Walker Challenge.

Note: If you like the IMF team, you probably won’t like this series :)

Rating: Minor mention of violence, the climax of the series, you’re gonna love it ;)

Would like to be notified with I post a fic? Message me to be added to my general tag list. Thank you for your support.

Want to read more? Click for my Masterlist

Want to start from the beginning of this challenge? This challenge needs to be read in order. Click to get started with the first prompt entry.

The Obligatory Intro Post to the Challenge

01 August - Please come back, August Walker

02 August - Hello August Walker, I heard you were dead

03 August - Watch your hands, August Walker! People might talk.

04 August - Don’t talk to me, or August Walker again

05 August - Does August Walker even remember you?

06 August - How do you like your coffee, August Walker

07 August - Which part of her do you want, August Walker?

08 August - August Walker, I love it when you’re bad!

09 August - Put your mouth to good use, August Walker

Ethan Hunt was not a stupid man.

In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was cunning and clever and suspicious which were characteristics that helped him to remain one of the top Mi6 agents.

He also had a golden streak of very good luck and August Walker was just about to ruin that man's whole career.

'He went squirrely, ' said Ayami who was pawing through a tin of broken Danish butter cookies from where she sat perched on the kitchen counter-top.

Two weeks after you returned from the Dunn business, Ayami just turned up at the country safe-house. Much to your delight, you'd found her one morning sitting at the kitchen table having a bagel and cream tea. And you knew why she was there. Things were winding up to the big payoff and the team needed to be as consolidated as possible.

'What does that mean?' you asked her but it was Mr. Instant Coffee who answered.

'Means that he knew what's good for him and went underground.'

'Because all of his peeps were getting murdered,' Ayami finished cheerfully and you half expected her and Instant Coffee to slap hands in a celebratory high-five.

August sat silently in his usual place, thoughtfully turning the small white coffee cup in a circle on the table.

'Last time he was seen?' he asked finally.

'Park hotel, Berlin,' Instant Coffee read from the reports supplied by the 'boots on the ground' team. 'Been there for about a week, but he hasn't really stayed one place for more than that. We should have moved earlier.'

'No,' said August, not looking at him, but at the cup. 'No, we want to give him enough rope to hang himself. Let him get complacent.'

'Do we have time to let him get complacent?' Instant Coffee said. 'I mean, the longer we wait, the more time he'll have to burrow in like a fucking tick.'

You looked at Instant Coffee for a moment. He did have a point.

'Okay,' August replied easily. 'You're right.'

At that moment, your respect for August Walker increased ten-fold. That he was able to take in the opinion of the other members of his team was unbearably sexy. He may have earned a little leg over for later that night.

'I'm going alone,' August announced finally, drawing the sharp attention of everyone in the room.

You reined your own reaction because an emotional response in that instant would have been inappropriate. You knew exactly why August wanted to hunt down Ethan alone. Hunt had not only gravely wounded August’s body but also his pride. His revenge was personal.

'That's probably not a good idea,' said Instant Coffee, obviously feeling confident that he had scored a few brownie points a few moments earlier.

August scowled and looked to you. Meeting his gaze, you nodded once.

'August should face Hunt alone,' you said to the room and then to him, added, 'but I don't think you should go alone.'

There was so much gratefulness in his eyes that you felt embarrassed and looked away. You didn't want August to see the answering distress in your eyes. If the fight on the cliff side had been fair, and luck hadn't been on Hunt's side, August wouldn't have lost. Tossing August over the edge was poor sportsmanship. You were afraid that Hunt would employ other clever tricks and defeat August for the second time. And now that August wanted to take the IMF leader on his own ensured that he would be left vulnerable to losing the upper hand.

You didn't want to lose him again, but you remained silent. This was ultimately August's decision and he had made his choice.

The two of you didn't speak much on the trip to Berlin. There wasn't much to say. You didn't dare express to him your fears, because that would only serve to distract him with your possibly misplaced doubt. And distraction was the last thing August needed.

When he pulled up to a local hotel to drop you off, you stayed in the car, sitting quietly for a moment, unsure what to do or say. Sighing, you turned to him and reached to cup his cheek.

'See you soon,' you encouraged him. 'Bring me a trophy.'

August nodded and you got out of the car.

Come back to me, you thought watching the car disappear in the afternoon traffic.

Your room faced the Berliner Fernsehturm and you could hear music from the festival going on in the square below. You took a long hot shower and stretched on the surprisingly comfortable bed. It wasn't the Shangri-la, but it was charming and it wasn't long before you fell asleep.

The room door thunking shut as if a heavy weight collapsed against it awoke you hours later. With a gasp, you shot upright and reached for your weapon. You couldn't remember where the light switch was, so when you scrambled up from the bed, you backed up to the table under the window and jerked open the curtains to let in the artificial outdoor light.

The scent of sulphur and petrol filled the room and as your eyes slowly adjusted to the differences in the light you could just make out the bulky form sitting on the floor against the door. You knew that form as the impression of it was etched on your own flesh.

You put your weapon aside and padded barefoot across the hardwood floor, grabbing a towel and wetting it as you passed the small bathroom alcove. You crouched before the shadowed figure and put your hand beneath his chin. You lifted his face to the light and it was clear that Hunt had given August a run for his money.

You gently cleaned the dried blood from his mouth and chin, carefully working it out of his moustache and scruff.

You wanted to say something reassuring, something positive, but you were too overwhelmed with relief.

'Well,' you murmured, stroking his face. 'I hate to see the other guy.'

August was silent and you hoped you hadn't over stepped the line.

He then held up a small package wrapped neatly in butcher's paper and tied with white twine. You took it from him, pulled the string and the paper unfolded to reveal your trophy. Holding it up to the light, it took a moment for you to recognise the carefully extracted evidence of Hunt's death and you smiled.

'Come on, you big brute,' you said fondly, attempting to pull him up from the floor.

When August didn't budge, you stopped straining against his weight and gasped with exertion.

'You're gonna have to help me here, babe!'

Groaning miserably, August managed to get his feet beneath him using the door and you to heave himself from the floor. You struggled to get him out of his clothes and under the soft yellow light above the sink you examined him. Big swollen bruises bloomed across his chest and back accompanied by several shallow scrapes and slashes. You wasted no time washing him up, patching his wounds, and getting him into bed.

Lying on his belly, August was still asleep when you woke the next morning. You went to the minibar refrigerator, withdrew your trophy and admired it in the morning sunlight. Your mobile beeped, distracting you.

It was a message from Ayami.

'Tell your boyfriend to be a little less conspicuous next time, ok?' she'd written.

Curious, and glancing at August's sleeping form, you rang her.

'What's that mean?' you asked when she answered.

'I mean that August didn't need to leave that fucker's burning corpse in the warehouse. He damn near burned down the place.'

'He was obviously sending them a message,' you answered, smiling gleefully, proud of your little murder puppy.

'I can understand that,' she shot back sounding uncharacteristically irritable. 'But that also earned us more attention than we wanted.'

You sobered.

'Is this something that needs to be taken care of?'

'It's already handled,' she answered and some of her good humour crept back into her voice.

You sighed and relaxed, wrapping an arm about your midsection.

'He's not my boyfriend,' you said after a moment with no conviction in your voice and she laughed incredulously.

'When are you coming back?' she asked, changing the subject.

'I dunno. Depends on what August wants.'

'Ok, you two lovebirds hash it out and I'll see you... whenever.'

'Thanks, Ayami. I love you!'

'Get something from the Wall museum for me, ok?'

You disconnected the call and tossed aside the mobile.

Feeling a warm sense of well-being, you re-wrapped your trophy and stored it in the refrigerator again. Climbing into bed next to August, you lifted his arm, crawled beneath it, and curled your body against him.

August had exacted his revenge and you felt satisfied for him. But you weren't sure what was going to happen now. The mission that had consumed so much of your year was over. You felt un-moored and a little panicked, but when August tightened his arm round you, your hamster wheel of thoughts scattered.

There was time to worry later, now in the heat of August's embrace was peace and with a small smile still on your lips, you put your head against him and slept.

This is the end of A Month of August Walker Series. I hope you enjoyed it and please like, reblog and comment.

taglist: @0witchtrials0 @supernaturallymarvellous @lharrietg @gingerspecks @lightsidecalling @littlefreya @lunedelorient @omgkatinka @igotkatiepowers @emmaofgreengabbles @justaboringadult @jencanbeyouryengeralt @skittywittykitty @g0ldenlush @xxxkatxo @rachie725 , @the-soot-sprite , @harrysthiccthighss , @little-green-love @darkbooksarwin @foxyjwls007 @xshadyladyx @maan24 @angreav @mstgsmy @littlesidewriter @ruthoakenshield @wheretheriversrunintothesea @maizyistrash @demivampirew @itsjusttaralove @cynic-spirit @heathengurrrl71

#a month of august walker #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #august walker x you #amoaw

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not-close-to-straight · 4 years

Text

May Flowers (Part One)(Broken Wings Verse)

Welcome back to the Broken Wings Verse! This peek back into the family shenanigans takes place six months after the Thanksgiving chapter and features some changes for our faves, a celebration for Tony’s birthday and of course, loads of obligatory fluffiness and loving support.

This is a Happy Birthday Commission for @korrababy today, and part two is MY gift to korrababy and will post on 5/29, Tony’s birthday!

PART TWO

ORIGINAL SERIES MASTERLIST HERE

*****************

The sun was barely on the horizon when the blankets at the side of the massive four poster bed were tugged a few different times and a high pitched little voice started babbling nonsense from somewhere near the floor. Atop the mattress a pile of black and silver wings shifted and parted to reveal two very tired Omegas who were no where near ready to face the day despite the insistence of one very awake baby.

“Lo.” Even half asleep Bucky moved his wings carefully as he rolled away from Loki’s arms, the metal tips clicking and rustling as he folded them back. “Lo, wake up. Your daughter wants something.”

“Oh, she’s my daughter, is she?” Grumbling immediately at the loss of warmth, Loki burrowed further into the blankets and swept their wings up over their face in a direct protest towards waking. “So when the entire world is cooing about how lovely and smart Maria is she is you and Anthony’s daughter, but when she wants juice at some god awful hour, she’s mine? How exactly does that work?”

“Dunno know it works but that’s how it ‘s gonna be.” Bucky grunted. “You wanted me and Maria here at night, you get her juice in the morning.”

And then after a pause, “How’d’ya know she wants juice? Maria can’t talk yet, it’s just a bunch of nonsense.”

“Allspeak, love.” Loki finally sighed and sat up to stretch, waving idle fingers and magicking a giggling ten month old up off the floor and onto the middle of the bed. “I can understand every language across the realms and apparently that extends to baby talk.”

“Hullo, beauty.” Bucky cleared enough morning gruffness from his voice to purr at his daughter. “How’s the prettiest girl in the world?”

“Oooooh.” Maria blinked wide blue eyes at her Papa and Loki and flashed them a mostly-gummy smile before breaking into another string of coos and babbles, waving pudgy arms emphatically and tugging at Loki’s feathers.

“No, darling. No juice.” Loki shook their head and waited until Bucky’s left arm curled over the baby protectively before leaving the bed. “Not this early in the morning, the sugar will rot your teeth.”

Maria pouted at the Omega, then turned to her Papa and rambled on for another moment and when it became that Bucky was only a split second from giving Maria whatever she wanted, Loki sighed and swooped her up into their arms, wrapping multi colored wings around the baby and scolding gently, “No no, love. I don’t care if Thor drinks a gallon of juice in the morning. Your Uncle is little more than a toddler himself, you cannot go to him for advice.”

Bucky grinned to himself watching Loki with Maria, and when the other Omega arched an eyebrow in question, he explained, “You’re so good with her, Lo. Thank you.”

“It’s the easiest thing in the world to love her.” they answered authoritatively, and then softer, “And to love you as well, even if you insist on giving Maria all manner of sugary sweets.”

Maria scowled at Loki like she understood the Omega was saying no again, and Loki ducked their head to rub their nose against Maria’s satin soft skin. “You know Bucky, I think she has a scowl to rival yours? So terribly attractive on such a little face.”

“Aw, do you got a mean mug, sugar?” Bucky took Maria back so Loki could use the bathroom, and tossed his daughter up into the air, laughing out loud at her squeals and catching her easily gently in his arms every time. Maria was fascinated by his silver fingers just like she was fascinated by the blue of their Alpha’s arc reactor and Bucky only laughed harder when the ten month old open mouth nommed on his thumb.

“None of that, please.” Loki glamoured out of their pajamas and into regular clothes from the bathroom door. “With Anthony as her family Alpha, Maria is already born with a silver spoon in her mouth, she doesn’t need to cut teeth on silver thumbs as well.”

“You can get her breakfast?” Bucky handed Maria off perhaps a little reluctantly, his desire to get a few more hours of sleep warring with the need to cuddle the baby close. The first months after Maria had been born were so difficult that it was only recently the Omega felt even capable of taking care of her, much less felt like he enjoyed it. “Or-- Or I can do it?”

“Go back to sleep, love.” Loki’s green and black wings spread enough to mingle with Bucky’s dangerous edges, their breath catching a bit as they leaned in to nuzzle at the other Omega’s cheek. Physical affection didn’t come easy to either Omega, but Maria had drawn the them in close and then closer still until Bucky was spending most nights in Loki’s room and feathers and fingers stayed tangled together until morning.

The intimacy was a far cry from Loki jumping every time a member of the family so much as touched their hand, and most days they couldn’t believe how easy it all was now.

Kissing something else though, a step too far perhaps, so Loki contented themselves with a bare brush of lips over Bucky’s cheek and a quiet trill in answer to a sweet purr. “I’ll take the little one for breakfast, you rest a while longer.”

“Thank you.” Bucky flopped back into the pillows and stretched his wings wide now there was no chance of the bladed tips accidentally cutting anyone. “Hey, Lo?”

“Yes?”

Bucky swallowed before continuing, “You think how you feel about Tony will ever change? Cos our Alpha is real easy to love too. You’re missing out, keeping away from him like this.”

“Missing out.” Loki looked down at their arms full of sweet baby and then over at their bed full of a wholly unexpected but wholly welcome Omega partner. “I think our definitions of ‘missing out are very different. And I’m not keeping away from Anthony. I just have all I want with you and Maria and the company of hte others.”

“Don’t know about that.” Bucky’s big shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “I spent a lot of time missing out on a lotta things when Stevie first brought me home. Most of it I’ve made up for, but I regret every second I spent running from our Alpha instead of letting him love me.”

“I--well--” Loki couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through them at the thought of the family Alpha. Tony was gorgeous and virile, sweet and funny, he supported every member of their rather large rather un-traditional family emotionally and physically not to mention the Alpha single handedly paid for everything and everyone who called their compound home.

Tony had made no secret of his attraction to Loki, the Alpha’s bold wings shimmering and shuddering anytime Loki so much as smiled in his direction and the whiskey warm eyes darkening to red if Loki wore anything particular fitted. But Tony had also made it perfectly clear he expected nothing from Loki-- not the same sort of instant attraction Thor had given, not the submission and wish to bond the other Omegas offered, not the whole hearted, undying loyalty the Beta’s showed.

All Tony had asked was that Loki find their place in the family and settle, all the Alpha had done was assure Loki they were safe and they were home and after six months at the compound, Loki had taken the words to heart and believed it to their soul.

They were safe and this was home and they had a place in the family, with Maria and next to Bucky, laughing at Thor’s antics as he courted the Omega Steven, spending quiet time with the fearsome Natasha and enigmatic Pepper, watching as the Omega Clint and Beta Sam teased and bothered each other. They admired Bruce’s genius from afar, let their magic twine with Wanda and Pietro’s when the twins were home, listened to the Colonel wax poetic and sarcastic around Tony.

They were home and the only thing missing was--

“Lo.” Bucky’s nostrils flared and he smiled when the other Omega’s scent brightened with longing and a thread of arousal. “Maybe take the Ice Omega act down a notch and let our Alpha love you, huh? You know he’d be good to you, he’s good to everyone.”

Loki didn’t answer and Bucky added mischievously, “Besides, you can act frosty all you want but we’ve all seen your wings change colors when Tony gets too close. What are you still pretending for?”

“Ice Omega.” Loki corralled their thoughts and flicked their fingers at Bucky, spraying a line of frost up the metal limb. “If Maria didn’t need breakfast right now, I’d freeze you solid for that Omega.”

“Still gonna deny you don’t want our Alpha?”

“JARVIS, the lights please!” Loki called instead, and Bucky huffed a knowing laugh before rolling back over to get some more sleep.

“Come along sweetheart.” Loki pulled their necklace out of Maria’s mouth and carried the baby from the room and out into the hall. “Breakfast time.”

This early in the morning the compound was sleeping and quiet, so even though Loki was astonishingly light footed they still glamoured their footsteps to make sure they didn’t wake anyone else up.

Clint was only a day out of his heat so the Omega was most likely still sequestered in with Tony and wouldn’t be around until later in the afternoon. Colonel Rhodes had arrived late the night before so he and Pepper would be in their room which meant Natasha was curled up in Sam’s bed, both Beta’s sleeping soundly since their biologies were infinitely less high maintenance than the others.

Bruce slept alone even when Thor was home, which worked out well since Steven needed extra attention in his current condition, and Yinsen’s suite of rooms were taken by the twins who’d flown in from Sokovia to spend Tony’s upcoming birthday with everyone.

The compound was full but far from suffocating and Loki had learned to love the well orchestrated chaos. It was so different from the drama and politics of Asgard that even as they quieted Maria’s chatter with soft trills and a cloak of feathers, the Omega found themselves looking forward to another day surrounded by family.

“Go on, then.” Once they made it to the kitchen and it was safe to be a little louder, Loki set the baby on the floor. “Go explore while I make breakfast.”

Maria promptly dropped to all fours to crawl around the chairs and Loki admonished gently, “No no, darling. We people not bear cubs, you are a baby, not a stink bug. Up on two legs please!”

The ten month old blithely ignored him and Loki just sighed and began preparing a soft breakfast Maria’s few teeth could handle.

Partway through scrambling eggs and cooking up apples with a little cinnamon, the family Alpha himself stumbled into the kitchen and Maria immediately squealed and chucked her water cup, waving tiny fists excitedly for her Papa.

“Oh, there’s the most beautiful girl in the world.” Tony looked utterly exhausted, drained and honestly halfway to comatose after a hard heat with one of his Omega mates, but he lit up with a grin as he cuddled the baby up close. “How are you today, Ms Maria? Your Daddy loves you, yes huh! Yes huh!”

The Alpha’s eyes flickered from whiskey warm to interested red when he caught sight of Loki, and just like he did every morning Tony held his hand out palm up for the Omega, curling his fingers coaxingly and rumbling, “Good morning, Lo.”

“Good-- good morning.” It was the same nickname Bucky called them, the same nickname everyone in the family called them but Loki’s breath still caught in his throat when Tony said it. “How does the morning find you?”

“Happy to see you, just like every morning.” Tony’s iron edged scent mellowed with contentment when Loki took his hand, and the kiss he left on Loki’s knuckles was tender. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs and cinnamon apples.” Loki pointed to the pans and asked, “Would you like some?”

“No Alpha in the world would turn down a beautiful Omega offering them food...” Tony turned Loki’s hand over and kissed at their palm as well, fighting to keep his wings calm and smile tempered when the Omega purred in pleasure. He didn’t believe in pushing an Omega into anything at all but oh when Loki stopped fighting their instincts and let Tony take care of them…

Oh.

“...but I have to get back to Clint.” he finished and Loki nodded in understanding. “If you have time later, I have something new in the lab to show you.”

“Another trinket, Anthony?” Loki went back to stirring eggs as if their entire arm wasn’t tingling from the touch of the Alpha’s lips, glossy feathers trembling with the need to present. “Haven’t you given me enough shiny things?”

“This one’s more for me.” the Alpha wrinkled his nose and winked, and Maria wrinkled her little nose and blinked and Tony laughed out loud in delight and leaned down to rumble into his daughter’s ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” Alpha. The word was on the tip of Loki’s tongue but they didn’t say it. Not yet.

Not--not yet.

“It’s a date.” Tony stole a bite of eggs and hurried out the door, stopped to kiss Natasha on the way out and grinned when the Beta snatched him back for a better kiss, then ran up the hall to get back to the bedroom and his Omega.

Clint was still curled up in bed and the Alpha shucked his jammies so he could crawl back into bed and hug up close to his mate, big wings opening wide and settling over them like a warm blanket.

Clint hadn’t been his first Omega-- that was Steve- but the bond between Alpha and Omega was still something very special, something intense and beautiful, different from what Tony shared with Steve and Bucky and different from the non-sexual but still soul deep bond he shared with Pepper.

Clint had been mated once before to Phil Coulson, but after one too many close calls and missed heats the pair had decided to dissolve their bond and move on and the Omega-- well the Omega had barely survived. Clint had been emotionally devastated, damn near physically compromised and hardly able to even look another Alpha in the eye when he’d met Tony and they’d come a long ways in the years since.

Tony would never be over knowing the Omega had chosen him after being so hurt, when it would have been infinitely easier for him to just stay single. Clint had been the one to force Tony back himself after Afghanistan, to show up with gorgeous brown wings flared high and demand that his Alpha take care of him like he was supposed to, to demand Tony be a good mate and a good Alpha and hold him.

Clint had been there the night Obadiah had come and buried three different arrows in the Alpha’s black heart as Obadiah fell to his death, had been there over and over for Bucky when things were so difficult after Maria and Tony loved his Omega so much there were days he actually ached with it.

But lately his mate had been quiet and a little withdrawn, this last heat tinged with a bitter edge of desperation and Tony had tried over and over to soothe the distress and uncertainty that kept bleeding into Clint’s cherry blossom scent.

Usually the Omega was hilarious during heat, demanding and bordering bratty, happily taking what he needed from his Alpha and having no qualms about leaving Tony literally wrung dry afterwards. It was a marked difference from Steve who was gorgeous in full blown submission and Bucky who was still hesitant to let himself go fully and Tony loved it.

Clint was hilarious and perfect and the Alpha loved it, which made the Omega’s recent quietness even more worrisome.

“Pretty Omega.” When Clint shifted in bed sometime later, Tony mouthed over the Omega’s bonding spot and purred into his skin. “Pretty, perfect thing, tell me what’s bothering you? Please?”

The Omega stayed silent for long enough that Tony thought maybe he’d fallen back asleep, but then finally, “Heat wore me out this time around. It’s enough to make an Omega feel like he’s getting old. Can’t keep up.”

“You’re the same age as me” Tony dug his teeth into Clint’s shoulder teasingly. “In fact, your birthday’s only a few weeks past mine. Are you trying to tell me I’m getting old, Omega? Cos I’m going to take immediate offence to that.”

“S’different for an Omega.” Clint sort of muttered and Tony hesitated, not really sure what his mate was trying to say. “And it’s hard to compete when your other Omegas are super soldiers and a demi god and Pepper. Just makes me feel… I dunno. Nevermind.”

“Hey hey hey, what’s this all about?” Tony tried to tip his mate’s chin up, staring deep into Clint’s blue eyes. “Have I not been spending enough time with you? Spoiling you enough? Are you okay? What’s this about my other Omegas, who cares about that? What’s going on, Clint?”

“Nothing.” Clint’s throat jerked as he swallowed, but he didn’t pull away when the Alpha budged him in closer. “But I uh-- I wouldn’t hate if you stayed in bed with me a little longer?”

“I’ll stay here all day.” the Alpha promised and cuddled up close to do exactly that, gathered his mate up over his heart until Clint’s nose was tucked over the steady hum of the arc reactor, ran his fingers through the rich brown feathers and rumbled and growled comfortingly until the heat-exhausted Omega was sleeping again.

“Pretty perfect Omega.” he whispered into Clint’s hair. “I’d do anything for you. Anything.”

And once Clint was snoring, the Alpha pressed a gentle gentle hand to the curve of his mate’s stomach and decided to keep quiet a little longer about the way Clint’s scent had sweetened or all the ways their cozy world was about to change all over again.

His mate would talk to him when he was ready, they could keep it a secret a little longer.

****************

“Come on, Omega. I know you can do better than that.” Sam dodged a half hearted punch from Bucky and fluffed his red wings out wide in a show of aggression. “Why are you holding back?”

“Because I’ll kill you if I punch you full strength.” the Omega said flatly, and ruffed up his own black and silver wings to match the Beta. “So why don’t you quit posturing and just let me work out like I asked. With Steve all big right now no one else except Tasha wants to spar with me, and she either gets weird and deadly, or she refuses to fight cos I’m a pretty Omega.”

“You’re a mouthy Omega.” Sam snapped and Bucky grinned, “And you’re an over compensating Beta. Square up and fight me.”

“Square up?” the Beta laughed. “You’re the one pulling your punches!”

“Yeah well shockingly enough, I like your face and don’t want it pulverized.” Bucky was laughing now too, and Sam’s dark eyes warmed at the sound. “I’ll keep pulling my punches, you get up here and actually try.”

“Actually I was thinking--” Sam stopped when the gym door creaked open and Steve came through. “--I was thinking that it looks impossible for him to walk at that size, oh my god.”

Bucky snorted a laugh and they both turned to watch as the blond Omega waddled walked slowly across the gym to where he’d left his phone, then sighed over loud when he found it on the floor.

“Stevie.” Bucky dropped his gloves and slid out from beneath the ropes of the boxing ring. “Stevie, let me get that for you.”

“Nope I’ve got it.” These days Steve was as stubborn as ever, though the stubbornness was an actual hazard to his health seeing as how he was at least twice as round as he used to be and constantly exhausted.

It was actually exhausting just to watch the heavily pregnant Omega, and Sam clicked his tongue sympathetically as Steve tried to squat to reach his phone, then tried to bend over at his alarmingly stretched waist, then huffed and puffed and sat down on a bench before leaning far over and stretching his fingers to reach, wings spread wide in an attempt to balance.

“For fucks sake, Stevie.” Bucky scowled at the other Omega and pushed him back up to sitting, smoothing down a few ruffled feathers. “Being this stubborn when you were four feet tall was one thing, being this stubborn at four feet wide is something else. Ask for help, you wacky Omega.”

“But I don’t need help.” The Captain insisted, jutting out his chin and trying to fold his arms and then groaning when they only propped up on the curve of his belly and ruined the look entirely. “Seriously Buck, I can handle this.”

“Honey, if you don’t let Bucky help you up from that bench you might have to live there till the baby comes.” Sam jogged over to wrap a protective arm and wing around Steve’s back and let the Omega grab onto his other hand for leverage. “Why didn’t you have JARVIS just ask us to bring you the phone?”

“...I’m having a hard time not being able to do everything.” Steve admitted after a long minute, cheek flushing a dull red and eyes shuttering in embarrassment. “Buck, you were so pretty when you were expecting Maria and I thought I’d be the same. Instead I look like I crashed an all you can eat restaurant and then swallowed a beach ball.”

Sam made a truly valiant effort not to laugh and only kissed Steve’s head to assure the Omega, “You’re gorgeous, Steve. Radiant. Practically glowing.”

“He’s not glowing, it’s sweat.” Bucky denied and Steve kicked out at him. “But don’t worry, I always felt like I ate a damn beach ball too. Don’t worry. It’s not just you.”

“That doesn’t really help, but thanks anyway.” The blond muttered miserably. “This just-- this all sucks way more than I thought it would. Can’t wait to be on to the next step.”

“Diapers and spit up and never getting any sleep?” Bucky sidestepped the bulk of Steve’s belly and kissed the other Omega gently. “Yeah, it’s real fun.”

“I dunno, sure seems like it’s real fun for you now that you’ve got Loki helping.” Sam waggled his eyebrows at Bucky. “You seem a lot less stressed now that a literal demi god is warming your bed.”

“Stevie’s got a demi god in his bed too!” Bucky protested, and the Beta deadpanned, “Yeah, but you’re not taking a hammer sized knot every night. You are definitely the more relaxed out of that particular dynamic.”

Bucky howled with laughter while Steve made a scandalized noise and only once both Omega’s scents had emptied of anything anxious did Sam spread his fingers over Steve’s belly and croon, “Sweet baby, how are you today? We’re going to name you Thomas. Yes we are!”

“His name is definitely not Thomas.” Bucky disagreed promptly. “Baby’s gonna be Stanley. Stanley and Maria Stark, right Stevie?”

“Steve!” Natasha’s snow white wings opened wide in excitement when she peeked into the gym and saw the Omega, but the peck on Steve’s cheek was much less enthusiastic than the way the Beta nuzzled over his navel and purred, “Hello baby Nathaniel! Little Bubba! Auntie Tasha can’t wait to meet you!”

“For the hundredth time?” Steve waited until three pairs of eyes met his. “I haven’t decided on a name for the baby yet. Cut it out.”

“Of course we have!” Word had spread that the family was congregating in the gym so next at the door was Thor and then Bruce. The Alpha spread brilliant golden wings open wide to encompass Bruce’s shoulders without smothering the doctor, and Bruce’s hands were full of various vitamins, juice, and for some reason flowers for Steve. “We are going to name the boy Sigurd Starkson! For he will be victorious in everything, and guardian of all he loves!”

Everything about Thor was massive, from the breadth of his shoulders to the size of his hands, the boom of his voice and the stretch of his wings, but he was nothing but careful so careful and so so gentle as he picked Steve up into his arms and pressed his face into the Omega’s throat.

“My love, you will be sure to give the child a strong name, won’t you?” he rumbled and the Omega-- too tickled to be manhandled about as if he were still tiny-- only purred in response. “Something to shout on the battlefield and in the halls of Asgard?”

“Don’t name the poor kid anything that can’t be pronounced!” Sam protested, and Natasha added, “And nothing that can easily turn into a terrible nickname!” and when Bucky started to chime in with his own idea, Bruce was the one to raise his voice and hush them all with a firm, “Thor, put Steve down so I can give him vitamins. Sam, we aren’t naming the baby anything unpronounceable. Tasha, you don’t get a vote because I heard you threaten to call him Nathaniel no matter what we put on the birth certificate and Bucky--”

Bucky’s black wings lifted curiously and Bruce’s smile was fond. “-- bring Maria to the lab later so I can show you the walker I built for her. It has a light show in it.”

“I’ll bring her by tonight.” Bucky promised, and Bruce leaned in to push their foreheads together for a moment.

Bruce was even more averse to physical touch than Loki, but the doctor had learned to trust Bucky with gentle forehead touches and to trust Thor with a little more than even that. His love with the demi god had been startling to the entire family but the way Thor honored every one of Bruce’s boundaries while still showering him in praise and adoration had settled Bucky’s initial protectiveness, and watching the huge Alpha treat Bruce with such delicacy had led to Steve loving Thor even more.

Then the Omega’s love for Thor had shifted to include increased affection for Bruce and for the first maybe ever, Bruce had a solid connection with more than just their Alpha.

“We should talk about our Alpha’s birthday.” Natasha waited until Bucky and Bruce had pulled away before clearing her throat and changing the subject. “Of course he will want a family dinner, everyone except Yinsen is already here in the compound so that’s easy enough. I have a present ready for him and I can promise it’s way better than anything you have planned.”

“Rude.” Sam snarked and Nat only bared her teeth in a smile and rustled her snow white feathers in his direction. “I think Steve’s got a gift covered since he’s due any day now, and Bucky won’t ever have to buy our Alpha anything again now that Maria’s around. Bruce?”

“Tony’s been wanting to change a few things around the compound so I rewrote some codes that will put it all into effect.” Bruce shrugged absentmindedly. “The time the blinds come up, the light schedule. Did you guys know the east wall is supposed to open up to all windows? It’s the one thing Tony never got done before we moved in and we’ve been so busy living here, he never came back around to it. I got that fixed too.”

“I brought our Alpha some ceremonial jewelry from Asgard.” Thor kept a possessive, protective hand over his Omega’s stomach and let just the far tips of his primaries brush against Bruce’s leg. “It is meant for Princes of the high realms, but our Alpha is every bit as deserving. I’m not sure what Loki has planned but I’m sure they’ve put much thought into it.”

“So everyone’s got a great gift except me?” Sam threw up his hands in frustration, red wings fluffed in annoyance. “How am I going to top ceremonial jewelry belonging to Princes of the high realms?”

“You won't.” Thor said gravely and Bucky smothered a laugh at the demi-gods insistence. “But you should try all the same.”

“You need to rest.” Bruce informed Steve, and then to Bucky, “You’ll bring Maria soon?”

“Soon.” he agreed. “What’s with the flowers, though?”

“These are for my love!” Thor took the flowers from Bruce and unfolded them into a crown, setting it gently on Steve’s hair. “They are May flowers, Hawthorn for hope and happiness and Lilies-of-the-valley because my life is complete for having found you, Omega.”

“Oh.” Steve blushed scarlet clear to the roots of his hair, and Thor beamed down at the Omega before plucking a bloom of each and turning to offer them to Bruce, lowering his voice and murmuring something only the Doctor could hear.

Bruce wasn’t one for blushing, but his smile stretched towards goofy when he took the blooms from the demi-god, and behind them Sam muttered, “What the hell, why am I no where near the most romantic person in the room right now?”

“Don’t worry darling, I think you’re romantic.” Natasha didn’t take her eyes off the trio as Thor led Steve and Bruce out of the gym again. “Not as romantic as Thor, but somewhere above Pietro, definitely.”

The Beta slanted a sideways look at Natasha and decided, “You know what? Tasha, why don’t you stay and work out with Buck? Apparently I need to brush up on my romance skills. That and he’s pulling his punches which is a waste of my time.”

“Bucky pulls his punches because he likes your face.” the redhead retorted, but her green eyes gleamed as she stripped down to a sports bra and kicked her shoes away. “Pretty Omega, wanna go a few rounds with me?”

“I never realized Pretty Omega could sound so threatening.” Bucky said faux mournfully, and Sam laughed himself clear down the hall, leaving them to their wrestling, and wondering if their Alpha was up for some cuddles.

At least Tony thought he was romantic.

***************

Clint made it away from his Alpha’s side and downstairs sometime after dinner, but since he was still worn out after heat, he didn’t complain when Wanda and Pietro bustled him towards a couch and crowded in on either side.

Hearing aids felt unnecessary and maybe even overwhelming at the moment, so Clint left them on the side table and simply angled his body and wings so he could see the kids talking, content just to listen to the kids and smile along with the conversation.

Even if the Omega was feeling up to engaging, keeping up with Wanda and Pietro’s conversations was damn near impossible these days. After months in Sokovia working to repair the war torn country, the regional dialect had crept back into their usual Russian speech and blurred with English as well. When the twins were home with Clint, they each signed their words too so Clint could follow along whether his aids were in or not.

It was confusing to say the least, mildly amusing to watch for the family and outright ridiculous as hell for anyone who wasn’t used to Wanda and Pietro’s particular brand of chaos but for Clint-- for Clint the twins and their mess of language and quick hands felt like home and his scent settled the longer he sat there with them.

“Tony will be happy just to have us home.” Pietro signed/rambled quickly. “We will do a family dinner and the Alpha will get teary eyed and emotional. Let’s send for a picture from the orphanage he paid to build and call it good.”

“That is lazy and you know it.” Wanda scolded, her oddly clawed wings waving in annoyance. “The family Alpha deserves more than that.”

“But he doesn’t want more than that.” Pietro argued back. “And the best present is the one someone wants, right?”

Clint smiled at Pietro’s reasoning and slumped further into the couch, leaning more into the boy’s warmth and reaching out for Wanda’s hand to hold. He loved the children as if they were his own, no matter that he’d found them while on a mission with SHIELD and they’d been more than half grown at that point, no matter that they still held the memories of their parents dear to their heart. The adoption certificate Tony had gifted Clint and the twins with two years ago read ‘Wanda and Pietro Maximoff-Barton-Stark’ and that was all that mattered.

Just before he closed his eyes, Clint caught Wanda asking, “What has Steve decided to name the baby?” but he missed whatever Pietro said in response, and let himself sink into the safety of his family.

“Wanda.” the moment Clint’s eyes were closed Pietro switched entirely to Sokovian, his hands falling still in case the Omega was still watching a little bit. “Is Clint okay?”

“I’m not sure.” Wanda pursed her lips in a frown and placed on hand over Clint’s forehead to check his temperature, let red strands of magic flow from her other hand and press at the Omega’s temple, probing gently carefully into his mind. “Something is wrong, but I cannot pinpoint exactly what. And it’s not…it’s not wrong, it’s simply different. I’m not sure.”

“Hm.” Pietro’s wings usually only made an appearance as a sign of respect for their family’s Alpha, bursting out electric blue for a few seconds before disappearing but today he let them out slow, let the bright blue feathers unfurl steadily until they were fully extended fully and settled over Clint’s shoulders. “Maybe we just sit here for a little bit with him then. He’d like that.”

Wanda smiled watching her brother take care of their father figure. Pietro had come a long way in the years since Clint had saved them, maturing and growing into a man sure to make anyone a good mate but she knew Pietro’s heart lay with Sokovia, with fixing their home land and helping repair what decades of war had done.

Beyond that, it was the lack of biology that kept Pietro from straying towards looking for a mate. Neither he nor Wanda had the secondary biology that marked all but Bruce in their pieced together family, they weren’t Alpha, Omega or Beta, their scents reeked of mutant and powers and things most people would not understand.

But here at home they were understood, they were welcome and they were family and Wanda hummed as she flexed her powers again to ease the wrinkle of distress between Clint’s brow.

Pietro was right, Tony would be thrilled just to have a family dinner together but the man who had taken so many broken misfit pieces and created a home deserved more than that.

… and Wanda had a good idea what her present could be.

She just needed some help and permission from Colonel Rhodes, first.

************

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#ncts fics #commission #broken wings verse #polyavengers #tony stark #bucky barnes #steve rogers #thor #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #loki #bruce banner #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff

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beizhuo · 3 years

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alright folks , i made this post last night about amending my carrd rules . & now , after calming somewhat down from getting sick to my stomach about it , i must now make one final update post about this to make people really & fully understand where i stand . why ? because i am , once again , having / needing to finely comb through the people i want to follow & interact with due to some very , VERY toxic behavior & terrible , childish individuals that think its real cute to stalk , harrass , steal , & gatekeep folks .

understand that i will NOT be namedropping anybody in this post . this is not my intention . i am not out here to isolate folks or make people ‘ chose sides ’ . making people do that is absolutely horrible ! i do not give a damn who other people interact with . i do , however have extreme issues with theft ( amongst other things ) . i can draw a god damn line at theft !

harassment ? don’t care . you’re trolling , i can ignore you . gatekeeping . you’e petty and attention seeking im here for friends anyway . but actual literal theft - i can draw a line there . please get out & OFF MY BLOG if you are so unoriginal that you haveta steal from me or my friends !

please know that you can interact with those thieves & gatekeepers , i don’t care ! but understand that i will most likely softblock you because i genuinely do not want them to find me . no hard feelings . ( they have found my other 2 blogs , and i am tired of them finding me ! especially for baizhu ! i don’t even follow some of my friends here cause of this ! ) i am not even in the genshin community to begin with . my group ? we don’t do communities for toxic behavior and people being so exclusive to the point of driving people out & away . its distasteful and mean ! do you know that i have some friends that were cut off from communities entirely all because they were a dupe ? tHAT is the kind of dupe drama i fucking hate . along with theft . anyway . i will start from the beginning of my rules that i deem important .

DUPLICATES . ( AND MIMICRY / THEFT )

the irony that this is the first point . it is like it was a wonderful transition . anyway . this is actually having to deal with two rule points . and i want to group them together cause they are related .

myself & a few other people have come to find out that .... there is somebody AT THE VERY LEAST taking inspo from us . i will start with dupes .

my friend has a character and was WHOLLY mistaken for another mun . which is fine . that happens , but things took a turn for the worse when they were then shunned / cut off because they werent ‘ good enough ’ . do you know how HORRIBLE that is ? to be told that you aren’t good because you weren’t the mun that they wanted ? this is the type of shit i cannot stand with dupe drama . DO NOT EVER COMPARE DUPES WITH ONE ANOTHER !!! i mean it .

i follow different childes ! and you know what i adore them both . they are both amazing !

sure i may have my mains / exclusives ( and im not inclined to interact with other blogs of that same character ) but i still like portrayals . i do , in fact , just READ threads sometimes . i don’t necessarily follow for interactions . like ffs man . i like variety . jesus christ .

going to mimicry / theft . you know ... i have fucking seen this with a couple of friends . there is a difference between coincidental similarities , however ! for myself & for my friends , we have SEEN inspo taken from us . im gonna say this really loud for people .

MIMICRY IS NOT FUCKING FLATTERY .

do not take inspo from me . especially without credit . absolutely do NOT do it . you are very unoriginal for doing that shit .

now , you like something i make / made ? you are inspired to want to make something ? fine , that’s okay , you can ALSO fucking ask me , you can also credit me . as you fucking should ! you can notify me and go , damn , i really like your style , do you mind if i use it in xyz ? sure , go right ahead . do it . im begging you , go ahead and do it IF YOU FUCKING ASK ME . god im so fucking angry about this , but this is some vile shit . and im angry .

i am angry and terrified cause i literally cannot get away from these people cause they seem to be wherever i go . i DO NOT DO COMMUNITIES BECAUSE OF THIS .

as a good friend said : it’s like they are a virus that you cannot get rid of .

thats what happens with attention seekers unfortunately , but for the sake of my safety & health , i will not have it on my blog or dash . if i see these people on my dash often , i will unfollow .

and it isn’t like a specific person , its a GROUP of people . which leads me to my next point .

DRAMA / CALLOUTS.

imagine having beef with an individual , and then going around and gatekeeping that individual and getting people to unfollow / block them . im not talking about , ‘ hey this person is vile because they ship incest ’ . i am talking about ‘ i had a disagreement with this person & they hurt my feelings >:/ they are mean and will hurt you . etc etc etc . ’

i do not give a flying fuck about somebodies issues with another person . so you guys don’t get along . not my problem . i have people that hate me . i have friends where i hate their friends . shit happens . i am probably absolute scum to some people lol . i get mistaken for other people sometimes . it’s fine , hate me cause you think im that person . that person is snowflake repellent anyway , go choke on your kool aide that you are drinking ig .

okay sorry i am angry but still . people claim and cry about wanting to talk & communicate . but then . guess what . sometimes shitty people are like , so this person said this to me , and they are mean . IF YOU ARE THE PERSON THAT GOES ‘ OH MY GOD HOW DARE THEY ’ AND BLOCK THEM THEN YOU ARE THE PROBLEM . i will give an example . of using my two names that i have .

somebody goes to amphy and says ‘omg ghost said this , and im frustrated and angry with them cause what he said was uncalled for . ’ if amphy goes ‘ omg ghost is shitty ’ and then unfollows / blocks them without any other discussion , then thats an issue cause ghost has no idea wtf happen . amphy got involved in YOUR relationship with ghost even though ghost has been nothing but kind and sweet to you . you also don’t know if amphy is just victimising or being emotional either . so why they fuck would you believe somebody who is venting to you about it and then block somebody who did literally NOTHING to you .

i dont know if i explained that correctly but i will give you something more realistic , again without namedropping .

i have a few friends that hate one another . i’ve known all of them for years . but they all , i kid you not , they ALL fucking hate each other . there’s three of them . and they cannot stand each other . i just happen to be somebody who gets along with all of them . you bet your ass that at one point , they all came to talk mad shit about the others . what did i do ? i went , oh okay . well im sorry that you have issues with them . sounds like a bad experience , but i can’t do anything about that cause i am not you and i am not them . if you are gonna change my mind , it isn’t gonna happen , sorry !

i have had people shit talk people i have no idea who they are , and i just sit here just being a source for them to vent , but i never NEVER EVER act on anything i hear . why ? cause its petty drama and gossip . if you do that , then damn , sorry kiddo , get some help on that alright ? maybe be nicer . i dunno .

now . racism ? pedophilia ? incest ? HARMFUL SHIT ? that’s different . but again , theres a lot of miscommunication . i have people coming and pulling the cards like they are hot shit and that isn’t fucking cute . THAT ISN’T CUTE GUYS . you are the problem if you try to victimize yourself cause of something YOU misinterpreted .

i have a friend that has this on their blog .

i am literally going off on a god damn tangent . anyway . :)

fuck you if drink kool aide .

THERE ARE OTHER MENTAL DISORDERS! YOU ARE ABLEIST IS YOU ERASE THE OTHER (UN)COMMON ONES.

i know that autism is the ‘common’ one here . you are valid okay . but guess what . ADHD , BPD, DiD, and straight up depression and anxiety are also things as well ! there are MANY folks here that are also undiagnosed as well OR they lay on some sort of spectrum as well . I am once again not going to disclose my own things here cause again THAT IS PRIVATE INFO , but fuck you if you refuse to see other disabilities .

also there are physical disabilities as well btw .

if you are not understanding of any other disability , or you wanna mute / deafen other mental disorders , YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM .

end of story .

treat other people how you want them to treat you and don’t you dare ever shove your baggage at them . thanks .

please be more understanding that some people are not okay:tm: .

i implore you to get help if you need help , but sometimes some people dont have to take your shit . and they most certainly do not need to sit and take your issues if they are not okay either . its toxic and very unhealthy behavior to expect others to help you . they can help you as best as they can , but you need to understand that everybody has their moments . do not guilttrip them . do not gaslight them .

but also understand that sometimes , people are saying things cause they genuinely need help ! you can be there for them but as a friend , you need to also tell them your own boundaries as well and tell them that they need to seek professional help .

but also , if somebody refuses to get help , then that is on them . not on you .

anyway another tangent , but back to the point . autism , while you need to understand is something you need to see and understand , is not the only mental disorder ! and you need to understand that some people suffer from really REALLY shitty things and are sometimes undiagnosed . i am really REALLY tired of depression , ADHD , BPD, and DiD getting brushed under the rug like they are not important . cause guess what , there are spectrums ! all mental health is important . fuck you if you disregard the other disorders , you are being ableist .

STOP HATE READING PEOPLE.

im really sick and tired of this . you don’t like something somebody said ? you can either : ask what they meant or block / unfollow them .

DO NOT FUCKING STALK THEM EITHER .

you have an obsession if you hover on their blog too .. do not do that . that is SO unhealthy for you . here is what a friend said on twitter . ( not name dropping them , just copy pasting them )

❛ i stg people need to fine a better hobby than to hate read a persons blog or profile. not a good look on you when you go and read what they post about just to get angry at something you think they said and then you go off spewing lies about it cause 'youre offended.'

like you already hate them in the first place. you weren’t 'looking to see if they were a better person.' youre just looking to find another thing to hate about them.

that is what hate reading is about. so you can read their posts and find just another reason to hate and laugh at how bad you think they are.

but it doesnt make you a better person. it just makes you a sad person with no life. stop hate reading people. grow tf up. go breathe on some plants or something idk.

i say this very loud and clear . if you hate read me , i live in your head rent free . not my problem . but it does become my problem if you begin to steal shit and start spewing lies about myself or my friends . grow up and move on with your life . sorry my life seems more interesting than you ig . idk .

anway this got long , and at this point i am going off on a tangent but !!!!

TL ; DR

read my rules ig . idk .

you can dm me for more info if you want . at this point i have blocked the problem blogs for myself. if you are curious you can ask . HOWEVER. i am not going to tell you to block or unfollow . why ? cause at the end of the day , it is MY beef . this are my issues . i am NOT here to gatekeep .

i will say that i will tell you IN private the for MY story . but keep in mind that it is MY story . not yours . not theirs . it is all about perception .

my perception is that they are scummy gatekeeping thieves . they gatekeep the people they dont like or are intimidated by . i am somebody who fucking bites and calls people out on their shit , because of this ? i make enemies . but my enemies are not yours . i dont care . dont give a damn . i am intimidating to people who are cowards and i don’t care .

if they feel bad when i call them out , if they try to go around and do damage control , then that means they are guilty .

and then you can ask yourself this : why are they reacting like that ?

i am once again going to bring up that other twitter user that i quoted before .

❛ you dont like hearing that because someone is holding a mirror up to you and it makes you uncomfortable because you know you . and you know the parts of you that are good . so in your heart you have to come up with a narrative that makes you feel better about the fact that somebody is asking your to confront the parts about yourself that you hate the most .

anyway . this got long . im so sorry for the long read . im so sorry i sounded hostile ad angry . im just volatile sometimes . im just really tired . and i dont need to come on this blog and have a panic attack .

anyway . cheers loves ! stay happy , stay healthy . drink your fluids . take your meds !

#long post.#update tbd.#ooc tbd.#// i have no idea what else to tag this tbh .#there is drama mentions though so there is that i guess ?#but this is all important so ...#anyway ...#read / skim this or perish 🔪#also if you wanna like this to let me know you read / agree with this go ahead .#im not checking for typos i am tired .

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yenslilac · 4 years

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Daenerys Targaryen and Ophelia: An Essay

I wrote this a while back, just after Season 8 ended. After a few edits, I decided to share it with you! Disclaimer: I wrote this fueled with rage at 11 at night for two weeks straight. Don’t judge.

Part 1: The Heroine Goes Absolutely Bats**t Crazy

Ophelia. Known throughout time as That Crazy Chick Who Drowned Herself. What a legacy. And Daenerys: She Who Toasted A City Like Marshmallows And Then Was Offed By Her Nephew/Lover. The sad thing is, these are my heroes. What a life. But the ‘Insane Heroine’ trope is prevalent in many forms of media – Dark Phoenix is another example. At first glance, Daenerys and Ophelia have very little in common; Daenerys is a powerful and assertive leader, and Ophelia is a background love interest. The one thing that unites them – they go crazy because of rejected love. While their descent into madness is slightly different; Ophelia is pitiful, Daenerys aggressive, both end up dying indirectly or directly as a result of their lover. Lovely. Let’s talk first about Ophelia – She is rebuffed Hamlet, the original pathetic sad boy, and at the death of her father, goes insane. After several performances of her insanity, she makes her way to a river where she falls (or throws?) herself into the water and drowns. This is witnessed by Gertrude, who then goes on to tell her brother Laertes of her death. It’s a pretty monologue, describing the flowers and plants growing along the riverbank, and how pretty and peaceful she looked as she sank under water and DIED. Remember this. Then my girl Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men etc. etc. Oh boy. Ohhhhhh boy. What can I say except **************** ***** ** **********. Thank you for your time. But she like Ophelia, was scorned by her Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt. But like, your paternal grandparents and the rest of your great-whatever grandparents were siblings, and your maternal grandparents were cousins so… But I digress. Wait no, this is what it’s all about. I’m back! I un-digress! So, she goes ‘insane’ cause she can’t get laid (don’t we all?) and roasts a whole lot of people and becomes… Hitler for some reason… So, Boyfriend Who Felt It Was Just A Little Weird That She Was His Aunt And Really Wishes He Can Just Catch A Break For Once Is It Really Too Much Too Ask is egged on by Murder Sister™ and Smarty Pants McGee to kill her. Just like my friends! He makes out with her and stabs her (best of both worlds!) and she dies. Very prettily. Remember this. You know. YOU KNOW I’m going to rant about this.

Part 2: Heroic Man Kills The Crazy Lady Like The Feral Dog She Is (But Feels Sad About It)

Trope as old as time… why is this still fine… surely there’s a better plot deviiiiiice. “Duty is the death of love…” Shut up. Shut up. No, it isn’t. There is a thing called multitasking. You should try it. But let’s recap. Woman goes crazy because of lover/hero of the story rebuffing her because he’s got issues of his own that he doesn’t care to share with her, and close friend/family member is killed. This is when the paths of the Hero diverge. Hamlet does not actually kill Ophelia himself, but his careless actions towards her eventually drive her to suicide. Jon, on the other hand, does kill Daenerys, (no, I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed) by a knife to the heart while snogging her. (I’d like to take the opportunity to say that this was ridiculous and yes, I will die mad about it.) What else is similar? Hamlet holds Ophelia’s (or in some adaptations tries to) dead body in his arms as she is about to be buried and Jon holds Daenerys as she dies. They cry and wish it didn’t have to be this way, but really guys, this is Your Fault.

The problem with this trope in particular (and I’m talking about a lot of other examples here, like Dark Phoenix and Wolverine) is that it renders the killer sympathetic. They didn’t want to do this, but it was for the good of humanity, it was a mercy, blah blah blah. Really? Did someone make you kill her? No, a sense of moral justice does not count. Hamlet abuses and humiliates Ophelia then claims he loved her so much that ‘forty thousand brothers could not…” Creepy. I have to say, creepy. And Jon Snow. “Was it right? It doesn’t feel right…” I’m glad you came to that conclusion. I really am. But I knew this from the moment you stuffed that butter knife into her spleen, so honestly you don’t have any business feeling sorry for yourself. If there’s one lesson that Game of Thrones and Shakespeare has taught me, it is:

(not an artist, don’t judge)

Part 3: Someone Died And The Director Said, “Cool But Like… Make It Fashion.”

Do you remember what I told you to remember? Did you? Cause I’m about to RANT.

Throughout time (like 500 years) men have been painting Ophelia’s drowning – the probable suicide of a tormented young woman – and made sure she looked hot while doing it. True, the description of her death is pretty and all, but depictions of her floating just below the surface, a dramatic and lovely pose and flowers strewn around her glamorise her death – something many other people have taken note on – and give her death something of a peaceful, serene departing note, rather than the death of a woman so deranged she did not appear to understand the gravity of her situation as she sank under water. Daenerys suffers a similar case of SDPS (Sexy Dead Person Syndrome). Let’s go through it step by step, shall we? While in an embrace with someone she loves and trusts, she is stabbed in the heart area (I guess?), and she dies. The End. My respect for white men flew off with Drogon. But I haven’t complained properly yet! Compared to other characters, like Myrcella, Joffrey and Catelyn Stark to name a few, her death was very clean. In these other examples, blood runs down their faces or spurts out of their neck in suitably graphic fashion but Daenerys’ case, two thin lines of blood trickle from her nose and mouth. Pretty, pretty. We get a brief shot of a pool of blood on the snow as Drogon picks her up, but blink and you’ll miss it. She looks shocked and confused as she dies, yet the next shot of her face shows her eyes are closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face. Not only this but we don’t actually get any proper Last Words, when she knows she is about to die. She makes no sound at all. She dies prettily and quietly. We also don’t see the knife at all until she is dead, removing any very graphic nature from the scene. A lot of the camera shots are of Jon’s face. This scene is not about Daenerys Targaryen’s death; This is about Jon Snow’s inner turmoil as he selflessly sacrifices the woman he loves to save the rest of the world. Hold up one second I gotta……

I mean, come on. Daenerys is barely mentioned after her death. She, a woman who freed hundreds, no, thousands of slaves and worked hard to reach her goals (albeit a little dragonfire-y) yet she dies without a whisper and is forgotten almost immediately. She becomes less of a central character and more of a catalyst for other men’s rise to power (see Bran the Broken). Wait, what about Sansa, you cry? Well, at this point, she was so out of character I’m striking her from the narrative. Bye bitch 😊 The same goes for most of the other women in the last season. They become plot devices with a little agency and that’s about it. Missandei? Unnecessarily killed to create the “Mad Queen”. Cersei? A compelling villain reduced to a ‘crying girl who wants to be comforted’. Arya? Kills the Night King and then, I dunno. Sansa? Suspicious of Daenerys because of reasons, betrays her brother/cousin because she doesn’t want Daenerys on the throne, then just ‘forgets’ about this whole thing to become Queen in the North. Brienne? Honourable knight left sobbing after her one (k)night stand left her. Another thing that many of these women have in common (the ones who survived to the final episode anyway) is that none of them have romantic endgames despite this being set up. Arya and Gendry have been close friends in Season 2 and 3, then <3 and everyone (i.e. me) thought that you know, they get together and stuff, because that’s what the writers seemed to be setting up. But nope. Arya’s all like ‘I wanna kill the queen’ (which she never does) and throws all that out the window. (But Gendry was totally on that ship at the end). Brienne and Jaime seemed to finally stop eye fricking and then got straight to the actual fricking but nooooo. “I lOvE CeRseI! WE’re bOTh tERrIble PeOple!” And of course, the crowning glory:

And the woman who actually does come out on top is Sansa, a largely unemotional, suspicious woman whose brother is now the king and made her a queen because she’s his sister. Riiiight. That’s totally not nepotism or anything.

The End: But Boy, Am I Just Beginning

To conclude, the ending of Daenerys Targaryen was largely misogynistic as it painted a brutal and dishonourable murder as an act of mercy and gave the killer (sorry man, I feel like I’m throwing you under the bus here, but it must be said) a sympathetic angle as a heartbroken martyr sacrificing for the greater good. I had high expectations, I really did, but you just took it anD THREW IT IN THE DIRT. Good god. But it’s fine, I have fanfiction anyway.

Thank you for reading this, if you stuck around this far!

#daenerys targaryen #daenerys defense squad #daenerys death tw #ophelia #shakespeare #anti d and d #anti got

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compartmentalisinghmpf · 3 years

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A coherent post about THESE GUYS

Ok, so I’m going to try my hardest now to sell Cole and Ramse to... absolutely anyone who may be willing to read this interminable screed, lol.

Oh yeah, gonna have to say this clearly, for once, despite my silly dislike for the title: the show I’m talking about here is 12 Monkeys. It’s on Amazon Prime; it may be available elsewhere, too, I dunno.

Also, here be spoilers - it’s impossible to talk about the relationship between these guys without dropping at least a few global spoilers that could be considered fairly extreme, though I’ll try to keep it as vague as I can while still being as specific as necessary. (I mean, I’ve talked about all of this before on this blog, so if you’ve been here for the past two weeks, this won’t raise your level of spoilage significantly.)

ETA: I just noticed that I completely failed to explain what the show is about, and what these guys’ main motivations outside of their relationship are... That would all have been in the last third, which I cut for excessive length... whoops.

***

So. Two orphaned boys meet in public care in 2015. It’s a couple of years before the end of the world, but they don’t know that. They’re ten and five or six years old, respectively, and the ten-year-old, José Ramse, who is a caring and responsible kid, immediately takes the freshly orphaned younger one, James Cole, under his wing.

In 2017 (in one timeline; exact years are a moving target, in a show about changing the past) a global pandemic breaks out, much worse than our current one, reducing humankind to a small fraction of its former number over the course of very few years.

The boys are extremely lucky: both are immune. As civilisation crumbles around them, they stick together, protecting each other. (We can assume that, at least for the first several years, that mostly means Ramse protecting Cole.)

Society doesn’t recover - not after a year, not after ten. The boys grow feral, grow up, a close-knit unit of two, each other’s only family. They become scavengers; perhaps inevitably, killers - for self-defence, at first, as per the rules they set themselves; “then, that became food and shelter”.

Here they are, a couple of years before the show’s main action begins, sharing a single pair of gloves - specifically, Ramse giving the gloves he was wearing to Cole, like the eternal big brother that he is. Awwwww.

(They, but especially Ramse, use the word “brother” a lot. It makes sense: he effectively adopted Cole when the world ended, he has a deep need to protect him; that word is the house he builds to keep Cole safe. To keep both of them safe.)

Ramse, old enough to remember living in civilisation, continues to carry within himself a conviction that “whatever this world is now, it shouldn’t be this”. Cole, still aged in single digits at the time of collapse, adapts more easily to the murderous world they now live in. For a few years the two join a gang, at Cole’s initiative. It improves their material condition, but Ramse finds the excessive violence hard to reconcile with the frayed remains of his moral instinct. He also finds it hard to watch his little brother turn into even more of a thug than post-apocalyptic life had already made him.

Here’s Ramse, objecting to following up robbery with murder:

Here’s Cole, unconvinced:

(That’s a bottle shard there in his shoulder. His last victim fought back.)

The gang intermezzo almost ends in fratricide - a too-suggestible Cole getting dangerously close to making an example of Ramse at the ganglord’s bidding, for insufficient enthusiasm for murder, but mostly, for repeatedly challenging the latter’s authority over questions of morality.

I don’t think that Ramse considers it a foregone conclusion that Cole will not do the deed, as he offers him the knife here:

This establishes a theme: violent death is ever present, between these two. Throughout their soon-to-be time-travel-cursed lives, they will repeatedly see each other almost die, or actually die, not in a “bad guy points a gun at them for a moment” way, but in ways that feel impactful.

Here’s what Cole looks like when that happens.

Here’s what it looks like when it un-happens. (I apologise for the darkness of the caps - light is scarce in the post-apocalypse, please look at this in a very dark room, or at night. Anyway, that’s a hug, ok? A kinda-hanging-on-for-dear-life one - mostly from Cole’s side, here, because Ramse doesn’t actually know what just happened, he’s from a different timeline. - They have more mutual intense hugs later, but those are also more spoilery.)

To get even more spoilery - this is important, in fact central to their relationship, but THIS IS WHERE THE EXTREME GLOBAL VAGUESPOILERS BEGIN:

It’s not simply violent death in general that’s ever present here; it is, rather more often than one would expect of two people who love each other so intensely, death at each other’s hands. These two will repeatedy get into situations where they will be ready to kill each other, or to be killed by the other - sometimes in angry challenge, sometimes in calm and, yes, loving acceptance.

These confrontations are never for a lack of love (although - once - in a momentary fit of rage); and the dynamic that develops between these two as their goals drift apart and become, eventually, entirely incompatible, is different from any I’ve seen. And it’s completely fascinating. And it is hearbreaking, but - you’ll have to trust me on this - mostly, strangely, in a good way. It never feels like enmity, and even temporary bitterness and deep disappointment are mixed with a love that never curdles into hatred. Again and again, these guys are prepared to give each other vast benefits of doubt, and forgive each other unspeakable things.

Even if it sometimes takes them a little while.

Even if they will still, perhaps, be ready to kill each other (again).

(This is Cassie, Dr. Cassandra Railly, talking about Cole and Ramse as they are navigating the first large fracture in their relationship with far more mutual goodwill than she finds warranted. She and Cole are in love - this is our central het ship here, and it’s a good one. Also, complicated - like every relationship on this show. And then all these complicated relationships interact, and things get even more complicated! So Cassie is of course involved in the dynamic between Cole and Ramse, too - but as so often on this show, it’s not what you would expect. Anyway, Cassie would be worthy of a whole long post of her own... but this is not that post.)

And you know what? This is a bit abrupt, and it all goes a bit off topic near the end, but maybe I should just end this post here. It’s probably about as long as people are (perhaps/hopefully/maybe?) willing to read; and anything I could add would just be more spoilers, really.

#THESE GUYS #José Ramse #James Cole #words words words #Cassandra Railly #Splinter

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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One Monstrous Miracle (Part Four)

Hey guys! I’d meant to get this out earlier today, but I’d also meant for it to be about 3,000 words shorter, so there we are. As always, give this chapter a cheeky little vibe check, and let me know if you find any mistakes! I love you all, enjoy, all those good things. Yay, melatonin! (Pssst! Also, if you’d rather read on Ao3 instead, here it is).

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!reader

Summary: Tender ANGST. Very angsty, might make you cry, i dunno.

Warnings: Aziraphale says a word that Microsoft Word told me may offend my readers, but other than that, I think we’re good. Let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: A WHOPPING 5295!! They’re getting loooooooonger.

This day, like many days, started off deceptively the same as always. Aziraphale had gotten up on the right side of the bed, the weather was not particularly noteworthy, and there was no string of minor accidents that would lead anyone to believe that this was going to be a Very Bad Day Indeed. Nevertheless, unbeknownst to most parties involved, this day was, in fact, going to be a Very Bad Day Indeed, possibly even The Worst Day Ever.

Aziraphale had been feeling happier than he could remember ever having been in his whole life. After you had shown up in his shop after weeks of not speaking to him, the two of you had spent very little time apart. You had resumed your habit of stopping by after work, much to Aziraphale’s great relief. He had missed you dearly, and he was enormously grateful that you had found it in your heart to forgive him. He shuddered when he thought of that night, remembering how terrified you had looked. Aziraphale had truly never felt quite as angry as he had when Crowley had insulted you, and it brought him right back to his younger days as a fiery agent of the Lord, smiting all who dared to cross Her. He had locked that part of him away, and until that fight with Crowley, he had all but forgotten about it. He’d decided very firmly that you would never again see him like that.

Today, Crowley had demanded that Aziraphale come over to his flat to make what he called an “Apocalypse Plan”. Things were getting rather sticky lately, and their search for the true Antichrist seemed fruitless. It was time, Crowley said, to bring out the “big guns”. What those guns were Aziraphale had no idea, but he could only hope that it wasn’t anything too drastic. He had just bought his new coat, after all. He’d made a quick call to you before closing his shop and heading over to Crowley’s.

“I’m terribly sorry my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll be home. Crowley is rather—”

“Difficult. I know, Azi, it’s okay. Take your time.”

Warmth bloomed over Aziraphale, and he couldn’t help the tender smile that worked its way across his face. You were so full of understanding, something that he’d had precious few encounters with during his time on Earth. As much as he loved humans and all their little quirks and flaws, it sometimes bothered him that for most of his life, he had been completely alone. Sure, there was Crowley, and he was absolutely infuriating but somehow endearing, but he was a demon, after all. There were fundamental things that they just would never understand about each other, no matter how long they’d been friends. You were different. You accepted Aziraphale, never questioning him or teasing him (of course you teased him, but never about his weight, or his obsession with books, or how the noises he made when eating sushi) or making him feel the way that the other angels invariably did. It was one of the many reasons he’d found he loved you for.

“Thank you, Y/N. I will call you if I get back earlier than I expect.”

“Thanks, Aziraphale. Have fun with Crowley! Give him my love.”

That was another thing. Aziraphale had been terrified that after such a disastrous first meeting, you would hate Crowley. Somehow, the exact opposite had happened, and after the two of you had gotten used to each other’s presence, you’d become fast friends. Aziraphale hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten until Crowley had yanked him into the back room of his shop one night and given him the sternest dressing-down the demon could probably muster, and promised that Aziraphale would regret ever having been created if he hurt you again. “Aren’t you meant to be on my side, dear boy?” Aziraphale had asked bemusedly, feeling very wrongfooted. “Oh, I am. I’ve already talked to her, she’s good. I just need to make sure that you don’t fuck this up, Angel.” Aziraphale had, through his tears, assured him that he had no intention of intentionally hurting you as long as you would have him (as a friend, of course).

“I will. See you soon, my dear.”

“See you. Bye!”

Aziraphale hung up, already missing the sound of your voice. He shut the lights off and headed out of the shop, locking the door behind him. Although he was a celestial being, and most definitely could make himself appear at Crowley’s door with little more than a thought, he found he enjoyed taking public transport. It was blessedly slower than riding in Crowley’s car, and it allowed him time to sit and watch the people around him. Aziraphale found himself strangely emotional as he looked around him at all the advances humans had made over the thousands of years he had walked among them. All the subtleties, the headphones in a young man’s ears, a little girl reading a book half the size of her head, a woman applying hand sanitizer. All these things made his heart ache with admiration. Yes, despite all the atrocities that humanity had perpetuated, Aziraphale knew that the vast majority of them were worth saving. He shifted in his seat, waiting for his stop.

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Aziraphale hadn’t expected the absolute destruction that awaited him when Crowley opened his door twenty minutes later. Papers were littered everywhere, plastered on the wall, hanging from bits of string from the ceiling, and covering nearly every surface in the flat, including much of the floor. Aziraphale tilted his head, surveying the inexplicable damage.

“Are you…quite alright, dear boy?” Aziraphale inquired as Crowley shut the door behind him. Crowley came to stand beside him, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to look his friend over.

Crowley had always been obsessed with his appearance, even in the early days when self-grooming hadn’t quite been invented yet. Crowley was even worse than Aziraphale himself was at times, which was truly frightening. Today, however, seemed to be rather a large exception to the rule. Not one item on the demon’s body matched, even down to his feet, the left of which sported a thick, woolly sock, while the other was covered with bright green fabric with miniature snakes all over. “At least he’s wearing trousers,” Aziraphale thought gratefully. Crowley turned his wild and un-sunglassed eyes towards Aziraphale, and he quickly retracted his gratefulness. The day was not over yet.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m perfectly fine, nothing to worry about. Shall we sit?”

Aziraphale stared, feeling the gears turning almost painfully in his head. What on Earth had happened to Crowley? He had never acted this way, even during the chaos of the witch trials of the 16th and 17th centuries. He seemed…unhinged. As most people are no doubt aware, and if not, they can at the very least assume, an unhinged demon is a very dangerous demon. Aziraphale could do nothing but watch his friend as he pranced over to the desk at the center of the room, trying desperately to think of his next course of action. Crowley gestured impatiently at him and Aziraphale had no choice but to acquiesce. He was nearly to the desk when he was distracted by the sound of rustling leaves in the next room. He tilted his head, listening. His lips pursed in response to what he heard.

“Crowley, I’ve told you before that you simply must take better care of these creatures!” Aziraphale gasped, forgetting everything else. Crowley clicked his forked tongue dismissively.

“They’re just plants, Angel, I don’t understand why you’re always so concerned about them. And I don’t see any problems with them, anyway. Look at how green they are!” Aziraphale could tell that he had directed that last part to the plants, because they all gave a collective, terrified shudder. Aziraphale sighed in resignation and turned to the poor things, cooing and soothing their frayed nerves.

“Don’t mind him, my dears. You’re all lovely, no matter what the evil demon says—”

“I can hear you!”

Aziraphale ignored Crowley in favor of sending cool, calming thoughts to the plants. He didn’t leave them until their leaves stopped trembling. Feeling very satisfied with himself, Aziraphale turned back to the desk. He strode over and sat at one of the (significantly less ornate than Crowley’s own “throne”) chairs, shifting uncomfortably. He waited for Crowley to start explaining himself.

“As you know, the Antichrist is…missing—”

“You could, possibly, skip that bit seeing as we both know this part of the problem,” Aziraphale interjected. He was the very epitome of patience at the best of times, but this was decidedly not the best of times, and he was quite eager to fix this mistake that was all Crowley’s fault and had absolutely no connection to Aziraphale whatsoever. The fate of the world as we know it was at stake, after all. Crowley huffed, clearly upset that Aziraphale had cut off his carefully practiced speech, but Aziraphale really couldn’t find it in him to care (This was a lie: Aziraphale cared a great deal).

“Fine.” Crowley hissed. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was interrupted by insistent knocking at the door.

Silence. Neither of them moved a muscle, staring wide-eyed at each other. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the knocks came again, louder than before. Aziraphale barely kept himself from letting out a pathetic whimper, earning him a deathly glare. Aziraphale started bouncing his leg, trying to resist the urge to open the door. As an angel, it was just not in his character to ignore someone, no matter the context. Crowley knew this about him and was trying to ease his anxiety.

“C’mon angel, leave it be. They’ll leave. It’s probably some teenager trying to sell magazine subscriptions.” Crowley thought at the angel. He knew immediately that he had used the wrong words because Aziraphale’s expression turned into one he knew well—it was the exact one he wore when complaining about how Crowley treated his plants. Aziraphale’s eyes were so full of compassion it nearly made the demon gag with its intensity.

“The poor child! They’re probably selling to provide for their family, or the like. Oh, Crowley, you know I can’t leave them out there!”

Before Crowley could stop him, Aziraphale had jumped up from his chair and was rushing towards the door. A feeling of growing doom washed over him as Aziraphale disappeared behind the wall separating the front door from the rest of the flat. Something was horribly wrong.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been paying enough attention, or because his mind had been so preoccupied with the vision of the poor, snotty-nosed, raggedy youth swimming in his mind, but whatever it was, Aziraphale hadn’t picked up on the same ominous feeling as his demonic counterpart. Guileless, Aziraphale turned the doorknob and swung open the door. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach to lead and set his heart beating faster than it had the right to even think about working. He schooled his features into his usual, easy going smile, all the while thinking desperately at Crowley from across the flat.

“It’s angels. Stay quiet.”

“Michael! And Uriel.” There was a flash of diamond-studded teeth, and Aziraphale felt his throat constrict. “And, ah, Sandalphon. What a surprise! W-What brings you here, exactly?”

“We could ask you the same thing, Aziraphale,” Michael responded, a terrifying glint in their eyes. “It is rather odd to find you here, of all places.” Aziraphale had no idea what to do. He had been caught out, finally, after all these millennia, and he was going to be discorporated, or worse, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was finished. He would never eat sushi again, never dance the gavotte, never see Y/N—

“Here? Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale inquired, trying to look as innocent as a very clearly guilty person could. Sandalphon snarled but Michael silenced him with a look.

“Here as in the known residence of the demon Crowley, the very same Crowley that you have been providing reports on for last 200,000 years. How very interesting that we would find you here, in his home.” Uriel had always had such a knack for quiet intimidation, and she used it now. Aziraphale gulped, shifting from one foot to the other. He had to think of something, and quickly. Sandalphon broke from the group and moved closer to Aziraphale, so close that Aziraphale nearly went cross-eyed looking down his nose at the shorter being. The angel sniffed at his coat, taking one of the worn lapels and rubbing it in between his clawed fingers.

“Hmm. Smells evil.” He stepped back into rank, glaring at Aziraphale. Aziraphale swallowed hard, praying for strength.

“Well, ah, that would be because…” He trailed off, wracking his brain for anything, literally anything, to tell them. As they were essentially Gabriel’s innermost circle of confidantes in Heaven, Aziraphale knew that if he let them leave this place thinking that he had been working with the enemy instead of against, that would be the end of everything.

“What’s going on?” He heard Crowley thinking at him.

“Shut up! And stay that way.” He could feel Crowley’s indignation, but he obeyed.

“’Because’ what, Aziraphale?” Michael demanded. Aziraphale looked between the three angels, and suddenly, out of nowhere, the words flooded into his mind.

“Because I was doing surveillance!” Aziraphale blurted before he’d had the chance to think about it. The angels frowned, skeptical.

“Surveillance?” Uriel repeated, sharing a look with Michael. Aziraphale nodded, feeling his heartrate slow as his anxiety left him.

“Surveillance, my friends. I have been monitoring Crowley’s actions more closely since the birth of the Antichrist. I decided to have a bit of a peek around here to see if he had any…”

“Information?” Sandalphon supplied.

“That’s the ticket! Information. Unfortunately, you arrived not long after I did, so I haven’t been able to find anything of note just yet—”

“Well, then, let us help you, Aziraphale!” Michael interrupted, moving to push past him into the flat. Aziraphale grabbed their arm, keeping them from moving any further. “What in—”

“Crowley can’t sense my presence, with me being but lowly principality in comparison to you. You, being an Archangel, I can imagine that even Crowley would be able to tell if you’d been in his flat. Your imminence.” Aziraphale saw the slight blush that appeared on Michael’s face at his words. They had always been a bit of a narcissist, and the fastest way into their good spirits would always be cheap and simply flattery. They stepped back, straightening their blazer and clearing their throat.

“That is true. Even so low a demon as Crowley would be able to sense my power. Very well, then, Aziraphale, I’ll leave you to it. But know that we” they gestured to their companions. Uriel smirked at him while Sandalphon grinned, showing off his sparkling, sharpened teeth. “are watching you.”

With that, the three of them vanished. Aziraphale was left in corridor alone, still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Slowly he realized that the taste of miracles lingered in his mouth, dancing on the tip of his tongue. This was no ordinary miracle, however. This miracle tasted of mana, of saltwater taffy and just a hint of last week’s winning lottery numbers. How odd. Aziraphale spun around and raced back into the flat to relay everything to Crowley.

“So your people are onto us. Of course it would happen now, of all times. We’ve just gotta be more careful…Angel? What’s wrong?” Crowley had caught sight of the expression on Aziraphale’s face; one of complete and utter despair, like all his dreams had come crashing down around him all at once. Alarmed, the demon pushed out of his chair and came closer to his friend. “Hey, it’s not that bad, we’ve prepared for this—”

“Y/N.” Aziraphale lifted his head to look Crowley in the eye. “She’s in danger. If they’ve been watching me, then they know about her and if they don’t already, they will know soon enough.” Crowley slumped, knowing it was true. He also knew what Aziraphale was about to do next.

“I can’t see her anymore.” If Crowley had had a heart, it would have broken into a million tiny pieces at the raw despair in the Angel’s voice. He knew how you both felt about each other, and how, after spending all that time apart, having to break off your growing relationship off once again would destroy both of you. He said nothing. “They will kill her, Crowley.”

“I know.” Neither of them said anything after that. Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath, opened his mouth as if to talk, but then shut it again. Crowley put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“But I also know that if you push her away like this, after what happened before, she might not come back,” When Aziraphale met his eyes, he knew that that didn’t matter to the Angel. He loved you so much that keeping you safe meant more to him than being near you. Crowley gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze and nodded.

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You were running late, not that it truly mattered. Aziraphale had called you an hour ago to tell you that he had, in fact, gotten home from Crowley’s earlier than expected and that you could come over for a spot of cocoa if you wished. You had spent almost 45 minutes trying to get dressed. For whatever reason, you’d decided to try and look nice for a change, rather than your usual scrubs or wrinkled work clothes. A random idea had popped into your head, making you wonder how Aziraphale would react to seeing you in make up for the first time. So, wearing one of your nicest blouses and skirts with your least favorite pair of achy heels, you were speed walking down Aziraphale’s street. The familiar feeling of butterflies in your belly increased in intensity the closer you got to the shop. Maybe today was the day you would finally tell him how you truly felt about him. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t expecting to see Aziraphale standing in the middle of the main room of the shop. Usually he was off in the back or upstairs even, but it was rare to see him out front. Especially when he wasn’t shelving books, which he definitely wasn’t. You frowned, closing the door behind you and moving to stand in front of him. There was something…off about the man today, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but you knew it was there regardless.

“Azi, wha—”

“Hello, Y/N. May I get you some of that cocoa?” Aziraphale started, as though you’d never opened your mouth. You could tell that something was well and truly wrong now—Aziraphale didn’t have an impolite bone in his body. He would never cut you off when you were trying to speak. Your frown deepened as you tried to look him in the eyes, but he stared resolutely at a point just above your head.

“No, Aziraphale, what’s the matter?” He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked down at you.

“’The matter’? Nothing’s the matter. Everything is fine, my dear.” He paused. You watched as his expression, already more shuttered that you had ever seen it, darken even further, making his face go blank. You were shocked. You had never seen Aziraphale like this, and you had no idea what had happened to make him so…angry? You couldn’t tell. All you could do was wait for him to continue.

A war was raging inside of Aziraphale, as it had been for the last few hours. A million possibilities floated around his mind, each one more ludicrous than the last. He could tell you that he was going on holiday and that you would see him in oooh…never because the world was doomed to end within the year. He could tell you that an old relation had passed away and that he needed to go home to Wales to settle the…whatever it was that humans settled when a loved one died. He could tell you the truth, that he loved you too much to keep you, that he was of the second-highest choir of angels and that some very bad angels were hunting for his golden blood as you spoke. Or he could say nothing, invite you upstairs for some telly and cuddling and continue living in this little bubble that the two of you have lovingly and tenderly created for yourselves. You could go on living in happiness…until, of course, Gabriel found out and smote you quite dead. The thought sent a trail of ice racing down his spine. He shook his head violently. Crowley’s lie it was, then.

“Actually, there is something that I need to speak with you about.” On instinct, your had shot out and reached for his but he pulled his hand back out of your reach. Hurt, you stared at him in shock. What the hell was happening? Was he breaking up with you? Not that the two of you were in a real relationship just yet, but after your talk, after everything, was this the end? Before it had even started? You refused to believe that your Azi could be so cruel.

“I…I can’t. I can’t do this.” Came the harsh nail in the coffin of your dreams. Tears sprang to your eyes but you held them back valiantly. Aziraphale could see them, trembling on your bottom eyelid, threatening to fall and to ruin this whole thing. His next words came out in a hurry, as though he was afraid if he didn’t say them quickly, he wouldn’t say them at all. Perhaps that was true.

“This. Us.” He gestured between the two of you. “Its…superfluous. I’m done with it and I am done with you. You were convenient, naieve and willing at a time when I was bored and lonely. That’s over now, and so is this. You can’t come to the shop anymore. Don’t call me because I won’t answer the phone. We’re done.”

Now, it is important that you know that angels don’t need to breathe. Well, perhaps that is a bit extreme. They do breathe, they have working cardiorespiratory systems that pump their golden blood throughout their bodies, just not with the same frequency as other life forms. In fact, an angel can hold their breath for years, which you may take anyway you wish. But in this moment, Aziraphale struggled to draw breath. As he watched the tears fall down your cheeks, ruining the liner and mascara that you had no doubt spent a great deal of time perfecting, he knew that there was no coming back from this. You would leave him, you would grow to hate him, if you didn’t already. He would never see you again.

But at least he knew you would be safe.

Aziraphale turned, unable to torture himself any further by watching you cry in front of him and not doing anything about it. His fingers itched to take you into his arms and hold you, to take back everything he had just said, but he restrained himself. This was how it had to be. He squared his shoulders, speaking without turning back,

“I’m sure you can show yourself out.” That was it. The last time he would ever lay eyes on you and he couldn’t even bring himself to look you in the eye. Gabriel was right, he had always been right. God had made some terrible mistake, appointing him a Principality. “Angel of the Eastern Gate” his divine bollocks. More like sniveling, fat coward who fails at everything and—

Aziraphale looked down to see your hand, smaller and softer than his own, covering his. He frowned at it, his grief-addled brain taking longer than normal to come up with an explanation. Surely you had stormed out of the shop in angry tears, vowing to hate the thought of him forever. How could your hand be here, slipping its fingers through his and intertwining themselves together as though they belonged that way? He turned his head, seeing that your hand was, in fact, connected to your arm, which was, surprise upon surprise, connected to you. You were still there, blotchy faced and bright-eyed, but still there, standing in his shop, stubbornly refusing to leave even after he had said all those terrible things to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, feeling faint headed.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, feeling very brace. Aziraphale turned around to face you fully, unable to believe what you had just asked him.

“No! Not—”

“Did I do something to offend you? Or to make you angry with me?” Aziraphale shook his head. He had to force you to leave him, but he found that he couldn’t let you leave thinking that he felt those awful things about you.

“Then why are you doing this to me? Is someone forcing you for whatever reason. Just tell me the truth, Azi,” At this, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I will try to understand.”

And it was then, that Aziraphale finally understood. Of course you would . You were kind, and patient, and the most forgiving soul he had ever met on Earth. Of course you would see through his veneer and into his true self, the one that called out to you even as he tried to push you away. He didn’t say anything at first, trying to filter his words and find the right things to say. Being as perfect as you always were, you stood there, eagerly waiting but not pushing. He did not deserve you in his life. He stepped forwards, bringing his free hand to grasp your other hand. He brought them up to his chest, resting over his heart.

“Alright. Alright, I am going to tell you something, but I cannot explain, and I cannot tell you anything more than what I am about to say. You must promise me that you won’t ask any questions until I tell you to.” “When will that be?” Aziraphale cracked a small smile, but it melted away as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, my dear. But you must trust me. Please.” He could see the familiar fire of defiance in your eyes as you hesitated to respond. But once again, he stood in awe as you nodded.

“Yes. Of course I trust you, Azi. Tell me what’s wrong.” He was not able to stop himself from bending his neck to press a grateful kiss to your hands. You gasped quietly but said nothing. He began.

“Thank you. You’ve no idea how much that means to me. I’ll get straight to it: being with me puts you in a very real, very serious sort of danger. Know that I wouldn’t dream of putting you through all of this unless it was so serious. I cannot bear the thought that your life may be in danger because of me.” He paused, watching your face, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He could read your mind, of course, but that would be terribly improper. Instead, he had to deal with this the hard way—difficult conversation.

“So…my life is in danger?”

“When you are with me, yes. I am truly sorry, Y/N. I wish things were different. I find that I…” He trailed off, caught in your beloved gaze, and he found that he could no longer hold back. Not when this was the last time he would be with you. It was now or never, and never was certainly not a legitimate option. “I find that I have fallen in love with you. Yes. I…I love you, Y/N, and that is exactly why I must keep you as far away from me as I can. I need you to be safe, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

Your face did the most extraordinary thing. For a second, you stared at Aziraphale, understandably overwhelmed with all of this new information he had thrown at you. He waited, as courteous as ever, for you to piece it all together. When you did, your face bloomed into the most radiant smile Aziraphale had ever seen. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight, so wholly unprepared for something so beautiful.

“I understand. I really do understand, Aziraphale.” You said, inexplicably. Aziraphale felt on the verge of tears as he looked at you and saw that you were telling the truth. Hope flooded him, fierce and intense, and for the first time in hours, he thought that maybe he didn’t have to lose you forever. Maybe this wasn’t goodbye. You kept going. “I can’t say that this doesn’t hurt, because it does. Because…I love you too. I have done for months and I’ve always been too afraid to tell you. But I might as well tell you now, so you don’t go moping around without me.” You both chuckled at that. You stayed still for a few moments, drinking in this last bit of time together for the foreseeable future. You knew it couldn’t last, however much you wanted it to, and so eventually, you pulled your hands gently out of his and took a step back.

“So this is goodbye, I suppose?” You asked, already missing his warmth. He nodded, feeling much the same way.

You stood and watched each other, trying to commit the other’s face to memory. Neither of you knew when you would be seeing each other again. Impulsively, you sprung forwards, startling Aziraphale with your sudden movement towards him. He wasn’t sure what you were up to, but he found out almost instantaneously, as he felt your soft lips press a small kiss against his cheeks. Heat rushed through his body, but he was able to control himself—barely. He blinked stupidly as you pulled away, smiling mischievously at him. You were still very close to him, so close that he could see the flecks of gold in your eyes that he adored so much. You fidgeted with his coat, and Aziraphale had to keep himself from wincing at the thought that you were fingering the same place that Sandalphon had earlier. He let you continue, content to watch and wait. You eventually did what you had set out to do, which was straighten his lapels and collar, and you patted his chest in satisfaction. You sighed and looked up at him.

“Come back to me, Azi, okay?” Aziraphale’s hands came up, entirely of their own volition, to grip tightly around her waist in response.

“Of course I will! I promise, my love, I will come back to you once all of this…kerfuffle is over.”

A little while later, you were leaving, turning, walking out of the bookshop and away from Aziraphale.

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“There she is!”

“Hush, you’ll get us caught!”

“Sorry, I’m just so…”

“I know. One my mark…now!”

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“Authorities are asking for anyone who has any information about the possible whereabouts of the missing person to please call 999. Can you repeat that information for our listeners, Bob?”

“Of course, Janet. Her name is Y/N L/N, and she is believed to have been kidnapped on her way home late last night. Please, keep both her and her family and friends in your prayers tonight.”

“Thank you, Bob. Now on to the weather. Sue?”

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phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

I love your writing! sniper ignores scout because he is busy then scout gets mad and tries to make him jealous

scout getting In Trouble because he makes a dumb choice when he’s mad aka my favorite shit. (warnings for very possessive behavior)

Sniper didn’t know that he was the jealous type. He really didn’t. But apparently, somehow Scout knew that he was.

It wasn’t hard to piece together how things played out. He’d fallen way behind on plenty of the things he’d been needing to do (mostly assorted chores and upkeep) because of a certain speedster and essentially told said speedster to fuck off and leave him alone while he caught up on them. And maybe he’d been a little harsh, but only because every time he was anything less, Scout somehow always managed to weasel his way back in again without any consequences.

Regardless, the first weekend he had without interruption was extremely productive, and by the second weekend he was back to what he assumed would be a reasonable level of caught up on cleaning and laundry and maintenance, and decided to reward himself by going out with the rest of the team on the usual Friday night bar crawl. And he figured, hey, halfway through the night the team usually descended into chaos and started splitting off to do their own thing in different places, and maybe he could snag Scout and pull him off to a motel somewhere, some place with a real bed where they wouldn’t get in much trouble for making too much noise. That sounded nice.

But then at the very first place they stopped at, Scout did a little something he hadn’t done for roughly as long as it had been since he and Sniper started “hanging out” more, standing up from the group and walking off towards the bar itself.

“Where’s he going?” Demo asked, chuckling a little.

The answer was made clear pretty quickly as Scout took a seat next to a young woman sitting at the bar and visibly started a conversation. Behind his sunglasses, Sniper’s eyes narrowed.

As much as the team liked to make fun of Scout for being a complete dork, he did legitimately know how to talk to girls, how to make them laugh and be likeable, or at the very least endearing. So it didn’t take long before the jealousy mounted, seeing how the young woman was leaning in, nodding, smiling, laughing.

Usually frustration and anger mounted in Sniper as a slow build, a rising tide. A series of irritations over and over that eventually resulted in him boiling over in one way or another.

This time it wasn’t slow or gradual at all, it was hitting all at once. Zero to a hundred in three moments that happened back to back.

First, Scout said something and winked at her.

Second, she leaned in and put a hand on his arm, only for it to migrate to his chest, there at the center of his sternum.

Third, Scout glanced over and looked Sniper directly in the eye, smirking.

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable. He was doing it on purpose. He knew he was pissing Sniper off. He knew he was pissing Sniper off and he was having a wonderful time with it.

Sniper stood up. Scout’s expression fell.

The girl glanced over her shoulder by the time Sniper got there to see what exactly Scout had gone white as a sheet about, but he didn’t bother her, just grabbing Scout by back of his neck and bodily steering him out the door.

“Woah—woah! Woah, Snipes!” Scout started in, stammering.

“Shut up,” Sniper snapped, shoved him out the door. He heard their teammates trying to call out to them, but he ignored them.

Once they were out of the bar, Sniper grabbed onto his arm instead of his neck just to avoid getting any looks, but his hold was just as tight as before. Scout hadn’t stopped stammering.

“I, look, I wasn’t—it—I was doin’ a bit! It was a joke, I just thought—“

“A joke?” Sniper all but snapped, and Scout seemed to recoil.

“Yeah, I—I went up to her and I was like ‘yo hey my friend bet me twenty bucks I couldn’t get your number, pretend to laugh for a minute and give me some fake number and I can cut you in for ten bucks or a drink’ and she thought that was pretty funny so she went with it and I—I just, you’ve been all busy and fuckin’ ignoring me for like two weeks—and I, I just wanted to make you, I, I dunno—“

“Jealous?” Sniper asked, voice dark, and Scout gulped audibly. “Thought you’d be cute, did you?”

Scout tried to start talking a few times, and stammered out each one.

“Well good job, you got what you wanted,” Sniper muttered, glaring straight ahead. A group of three people ducked straight out of their way on the sidewalk as they passed them. “Happy now?”

Scout didn’t say anything, apparently realizing that he was only getting himself into more trouble.

Two blocks down from the bar was a motel, and Scout had the good sense to just do as he was told for a moment and wait for Sniper. Sniper got a motel room in less than three sentences and was pushing Scout in the door within two minutes, and then Sniper locked the door, and then Scout was against the door.

“Well, I’m not ignoring you now. You have my full attention,” he all but growled, and Scout flushed. “And you were bloody going to have my full attention, you absolute piker. Came out here with the blokes because I’m caught up now, thought I’d treat you for the night to apologize for disappearing on your for a bit. Then you decided to throw a tantrum.”

Scout swallowed hard, adam’s apple bobbing visibly. He got his voice back after a second. “...But I did make you jealous?” he asked a little weakly.

“Yes. You did,” Sniper snapped, and kissed him.

He had Scout melting and falling apart against the door within minutes, having nipped his way up and down his neck and having half a mind to do it to all the rest of him, too. He got Scout to his feet enough to drag him over to the bed, pressing him down into the mattress before either of them even had their shoes off.

“Mine,” he snarled into a particularly harsh love-bite just below Scout’s jaw, and it had Scout gasping hard, hips jerking up against him.

“Fuck,” Scout panted, and started fumbling to try and get his shirt off.

He didn’t get very far, mostly because Sniper practically ripped it off of him, the button of his pants nearly popping off as those went as well, and then Sniper was biting his way across the freshly-bared skin, marking Scout up as much as he could manage as quickly as possible, rough and demanding.

Scout, to his credit, arched up into it and groaned for more.

He found himself lingering there at Scout’s chest, nipping over and over at Scout’s sternum. And he tried to remind himself that it wasn’t real what that girl was doing, it didn’t mean anything, but he fixated there regardless, nipping again and again until Scout’s hands buried into his hair and urged him to go somewhere else.

He did, sinking down between Scout’s legs and pulling his briefs off, starting to bite and suck marks into the inside of his thighs, where nobody else would see except for him and Scout. He worried each spot until it was red, until it was sure to turn purple by morning, until Scout’s hips bucked and he needed to be bodily pinned down to keep still.

Sniper fished the packet of lube from his pocket, having gone out prepared, and started working Scout open as he continued leaving mark after mark. He barred one forearm across the space just below Scout’s ribs to hold him down as he sucked more marks into the divots of his hips and Scout responded with verve, moaning and pleading and scrabbling at the sheets and trying to roll down against Sniper’s fingers.

And he stripped as far as shoving down his pants enough to free himself before he was pushing in, pushing Scout’s legs open and up, bending him.

From the very first push Scout was already pleading for more, for faster, and Sniper gave it in spades, picking a pace that rattled his belt and rocked the bed and set Scout to shaking, to swearing, to arching, to scrambling for Sniper’s shoulders and fisting his hands into the back of his shirt and hauling him closer.

“You’re mine,” Sniper growled again, gone mindless and hungry, gripping at Scout’s hips hard enough that he hoped it would bruise, hoped it would leave his fingerprints as reminders of it.

“Yours,” Scout agreed, practically a moan, clearly also driven out of his mind by the pleasure of it. “Yours, yours, oh, fuck—“

And Sniper gave it his all, really he did, because just for a moment he wanted to clear Scout’s head out of everything but him, everything but then and there, being fucked stupid and loving it, and begging for more, and writhing and moaning and looking so goddamn gorgeous—

And he wanted Scout to remember this—

And he wanted Scout to never pull a stunt like that again—

And he didn’t want anyone to ever touch him like that again—

And he wanted to ruin Scout, ruin him for anyone else, make anyone else he ever got with ever again pale in comparison to then and there in a shitty motel room, surely minutes away from being kicked out on a noise complaint.

And he finished biting another mark into Scout’s chest, and Scout finished with a borderline wail, nails digging into his back hard enough to hurt, even through the fabric of his shirt.

And then they were coming down, breathing hard, Sniper feeling overheated and weak in the wake of everything.

“I’m sorry,” Scout managed, voice hoarse from all the noise he’d been making. “I was an idiot. I shouldn’t’ve done that, that was stupid of me, even if it was a dumb fuckin’ joke.”

Sniper didn’t have his breath back enough to speak yet, just panting against Scout’s chest weakly.

“Hey,” Scout said, tugged on Sniper’s chin, angled his head up to look at him. “Yours.”

“Mine,” Sniper agreed, and got the energy back to pull out at least, to collapse next to Scout, to pull him in tight against his chest, squeezing hard. “And I’m yours, too. Bloody... never do that again. You absolute prick.”

“Promise,” Scout agreed, squeezing back just as hard.

#//sniperscout #//powerplay

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Running Up That Hill || Morgan & Remmy

TIMING: This afternoon

PARTIES: @whatsin-yourhead & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Remmy try to catch up and unload their problems. But some problems are too difficult to share.

The world wasn’t so scary anymore, but without the buffer of something taking up space in Remmy’s mind, the sorrow that clung to their heart had crawled its way back in. Heavy on their shoulders, they had walked all the way to Morgan and Deirdre’s-- which wasn’t actually that far from Lydia’s home-- without stopping. Granted, endless energy made the trudge much easier. It also made it easier for their mind to wander. They couldn’t stop thinking about the night they’d spent with Luce-- how warm her skin always felt, how sweet her lips tasted. How gentle she’d been when they’d let her touch them. Their chest filled with a heat just thinking about it, finding themself craving her more now. They couldn’t shake her from their head, even with everything else left to worry about, all they could focus on was Luce. Rubbing their eyes, they came to a stop, realizing they’d made it to Morgan’s place already. Looking around, they straightened themself out before heading up to the door and giving a knock. They hadn’t prepared anything to say, and they weren’t sure they’d be able to say what Morgan asked without that pain swelling in their throat coming out. But when the door opened, and they saw Morgan’s face, it really didn’t matter. They folded her into a tight hug in what seemed like it would have been suddenly, had the conversation last night not gone the way it had. “Sorry,” they mumbled after a moment, but didn’t pull away, “I can’t hug Lydia this tight.”

Morgan leapt straight into Remmy’s arms and clung tight to her heart’s content. Remmy’s arms were small, but they had enough strength to buckle her rib bones, and the little dents they made in her organs were a bittersweet relief because they meant Remmy was here and she didn’t have to hold the world up anymore. Tears eeked out of the corners of her eyes. “Don’t you dare be sorry,” she said, sniffling into their shoulder. “You give the best hugs. The best, okay?” Even when Remmy loosened their hold, she stayed close to them. “You’re looking a little worn out. Don’t tell me this place is kicking your ass too right now. Or if it is, at least tell me it’s something we can scream or punch our way out of?” She pulled them by the hand and collapsed onto the couch with them, curling up into their side.

A smile tried to tug itself onto their face, but only made it halfway there before Remmy felt the weight of everything else pull it down. “Okay,” they agreed quietly, following Morgan inside. It was the same house it always was, but something hung in the air that Remmy couldn’t quite place. It was both lighter and heavier all at once. Maybe even from two different things. They sunk greedily into the soft couch and tucked Morgan’s small frame into them, finding comfort in the small action. The safety they felt in her arms was paralleled only by being with Lydia. “Oh, um....it’s...well...I dunno if it’s a punch out thing, but maybe it can be a talk out thing,” they stuttered through the words. They weren’t sure why they were nervous to tell Morgan-- were they worried she’d be mad at them? Angry? Upset? They didn’t know. “I uh-- I slept with Luce again,” they said quickly. “I-I know it was a bad idea, but I just-- I couldn’t help it.”

Morgan had braced herself for a whole number of possibilities. She wasn’t sure how many more worries she could squeeze onto her plate, but she’d make the space for Remmy--until they confessed what had happened. Morgan couldn’t help but snort. “Oh, honey--” She brushed back the scruffy hair that stuck out from their head. “Remmy--” She shook her head, but there was nothing angry or disappointed in her expression. “She’s that irresistible, huh? How do you feel? How are things going for you two after...that.”

Remmy let out a long puff of air. “I guess,” they muttered, but Morgan was right-- Remmy couldn’t stay away, even if they wanted to. The other night proved that. Huffing, they crossed their arms over their chest. “I don’t know, and I hate it. She says she’s good, but when has Luce ever said that and meant it?” they looked earnestly over at Morgan, before feeling their body droop. “It was my idea, too,” they grumbled, “I feel so-- stupid. I was supposed to have boundaries, be strong, and I just--” they waved their hands in front of them, “the minute I saw her I couldn’t not kiss her.”

“Remmy--” Morgan stretched up to kiss their temple. “You’ve really got it bad, huh? Listen, I don’t have any great advice here, except maybe, you know, try to lay down more of those boundaries. Try. But that’s easier said than done. You may recall the number of times I came here to have some very un-casual casual sex with Deirdre, and the a month or so where I was living here, sharing an un-sexy bed, and making out with her while insisting that we were just friends. And then there’s all the all girls back in Texas I insisted were just for the night and then made the mistake of holding repeat engagements, before I learned better. Point is: I am the reigning queen of terrible sex decisions. Welcome, my dear Remmy, to my queendom. Would you like me to whip you up some nachos or popcorn about it? Because there’s not much to do about this one besides letting it all out with your friends. What’d she say besides that she was ‘good’?”

“She asked me to stay,” Remmy said quietly, looking up at Morgan with big, bashful eyes. Even if it seemed impossible, they couldn’t help but cling to the small hope that Luce cared about them, too. That maybe she even liked them back. “Afterwards. And it was--” they gave a small pause, “--it was the first time I let her touch me, too.” They sat back a little. “I haven’t-- since I woke up dead. Let anyone…” Did it mean something? Or were they reading into it? They needed to know, and they were looking at Morgan as if she were the only one with the answer. They knew it wasn't’ fair, but they couldn’t help it. “Nachos sound nice,” they murmured after a small silence. “I could eat some nachos right now.”

“Oh, honey,” Morgan repeated, dragging out the word. She had been there, was still kind of there even, savoring all of the amazing little treasures of affection Deirdre gave her, from her practiced touches, to her swift, almost mindless kisses, and all the words and smiles she gave. There were less of them now, with everything happening with Regan, but Morgan treasured what she received even more now, knowing Deirdre was working against her despair to be present for her. “That’s a big base to cross. I’m proud of you, however this shakes out, okay? Just give me a sec, okay? I already have some half done for us.” She kissed the top of Remmy’s head and disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes, assembling everything and pouring hot, diced brains on top. When they were ready, Morgan came back with a big bowl and promptly placed it in their lap before crawling back into their place against them. “Is there more to the story that you wanna share? I’m guessing you did stay over? Was there breakfast, coffee? Goodbye kisses?”

Remmy waited idly while Morgan went to get their nachos. They rubbed their palms along the tops of their pants in a small, nervous manner, sitting up a little straighter when Morgan came back into the room and handed the plate over. They cozied in and let her reattach herself to her side, taking a small bite before answering her question. “Not really. Um-- I think she felt weird making stuff when she knows I don’t eat. It was-- well, not awkward, but also not, like...that,” they said, pushing around some of the nachos with a finger. They looked over at Morgan almost expectantly. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I feel like I should just...get over it. Get over her, but I--” they scratched at their jeans, “--I don’t think I want to.” It was hard to explain-- even after all the hurtful things Luce had said, all of the times she’d pushed them away, they’d seen enough of her softness to know there were feelings buried in her somewhere. They could almost feel it. “I know that really doesn’t help with...all the other shit I’m trying to work through, but I just-- I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before.” They offered the plate to Morgan, before setting it on the table in front of them. “Why are girls so complicated?”

Morgan took a chip and scooped it deep into her brain mix before the bowl went to rest on the table. She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the spicy-tangy taste as she listened to her friend. “I wish I knew why girls and girl stuff was so complicated, Remmy. If we could make caring about one another un-complicated and stick in a bottle, we’d make billions. People-- some of the most incredible people are the most hurt, or the most locked away, or the most angry. I’m sure there’s gotta be some out there that aren’t, but maybe you and I...we just don’t click with them like we do the people we really like. And who even knows how or why we’re drawn to the people we are. I don’t think I’ve known many people who came together perfectly, with no bumps or hold ups, and stayed together. It’s all one big clusterfuck of a mystery. I gotta ask you something though--” She turned her head so she could lock eyes with Remmy. “Do you think you might love her, Remmy?”

Remmy listened intently to Morgan’s mini-speech-- she was really good at that, and they supposed that was why she was an English teacher. But it didn’t change the meaning of her words, or about how right she was. They could only wish for an easy answer. And then, of course, she had to ask the hardest question of them all-- and Remmy knew the answer, but they hadn’t said it outloud yet. They almost didn’t want to. They picked at a spot on their jeans, unable to look Morgan in the eyes, even as she attempted to lock them in. “I-- don’t know. I’m not sure I really...know what romantic love feels like, anymore. Cause I thought I-- I thought I loved him, my last-- I thought that was love, but it wasn’t, and I...well...how can I know?” they chanced a small look over at her, wondering if their face would be flushed had it been able to be. Wondering if this was really the talk they needed to be having when they still felt like their past held a vice grip on them, chaining them to a personhood they no longer had possession of.

“Ooh! This one, I do have an answer for!” Morgan helped herself to another loaded tortilla chip and stuffed it into her mouth. “I don’t know how much you’re going to like it, Remmy, and maybe it sounds cheesy but…” She sighed, holding Remmy’s gaze affectionately. It was so familiar, and so unfair. “When you know, Remmy, you know. I’ve never-- I’d been with people before and I’d had hope for people before, but I’d never been loved this way. And I’d never been in love, except for one sad high school obsession that wasn’t allowed to go anywhere. I knew about as much as you right now...when you know, you know. It’s just...something in us that most of us can understand when it comes. So if you think you do, Remmy, those heart flutters and heart aches, and the catalog of expressions you keep in your head, the thrill of one more minute or one more hour together-- I think it is what you think it is.”

Remmy stayed quiet while Morgan talked, trying to absorb what she was saying and see if that matched how they felt. The truth was, they didn’t really know how they felt-- they just knew that watching Luce suffer made them hurt, and watching her be happy made them happy, and touching her felt like the greatest thing in the world. So-- huh. Maybe Morgan was right. They looked over at her, swallowing. “What if she doesn’t...love me back?” they asked quietly, almost so quiet it could’ve been missed had they not been so close together, and had their mouth not moved to say the words.

Morgan draped an arm around Remmy and tucked them closer together. “If she doesn’t, then Luce is even more of an emotionally stunted idiot than I already think she is. And you may not stop loving her all at once or ever, knowing you, but you’ll have to at least try to get on without her. Find someone who will appreciate the love you have to offer.” Her head fell to rest on Remmy’s shoulder, tired and sad. “But maybe she does. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to say it yet…”

Remmy settled into Morgan and put their head on top of hers when she rest on their shoulder. “Was it hard for you? With Deirdre?” they asked into the silence after a long moment. They weren’t sure why asking that helped, but maybe they just wanted to know this struggle wasn’t theirs alone. “To say it? Did she-- she figured out how to say it. Was that hard?” The world felt heavy and quiet around them, and the nachos were going cold, but Remmy didn’t want to move. Not yet. They wanted something solid, something real. Anyone, or anything. Morgan couldn’t always be their rock, they knew that.

“Well, I met her in January, moved in sometime in March, and even when she asked me to be her girlfriend in April, she immediately had a panic attack and started crying when I said I loved her,” Morgan replied. It wasn’t the best weather forecast for Remmy and Luce if this was some kind of pattern with other women, but it didn’t occur to her to tell Remmy anything other than the truth. “We’ve talked about all that since, and she’s said...she loved me back then. As far back as that stupid week and a half break up, maybe before. She was really scared about it. Some of it was the way she was brought up, a lot of it honestly, but...yeah, it was really hard. But then, after I said it, and then said she didn’t have to right away, that it would just be nice to hear someday, after that it was easy. I mean, you know what a romantic dope she is. I think we say it at least ten times a day.” She shrugged. “Maybe Luce just needs to get over that hump. Or maybe she’s just not the kind of person to say that a lot.” Her mother certainly wasn’t, but Ruth Beck wasn’t a kind of person Morgan wanted Remmy to be getting close to. “I hope if it is hard now, it gets easy later. At least the feelings part. Feelings and talking and being kind should come easy, I think. There’s so much other hard stuff you can’t do anything about, no matter how hard you try, at least the basic things shouldn’t be hard too,” she sighed.

Remmy was quiet again. They weren’t sure what else to say. Everything Morgan said was true and right and the way she talked about Deirdre made even Remmy feel loved. The two of them had something Remmy wasn’t sure they’d ever get, but sometimes, when they thought about Luce, or lying in bed next to Luce, or just sitting in her cabin, it felt like maybe they could get close. Their thoughts turned momentarily to Nadia, and other Nadia, and how Luce had expressed such a similar concern for them as for Remmy, but that wasn’t something they could think about right now. Things were...too complicated there. They needed something to be easy. “Yeah,” they finally replied, letting out a long sigh. “I think she’s just scared.” A beat. “I kinda get that.” They looked down at Morgan. “I’m glad she finally said it to you. You two...deserve that happiness.”

Morgan sniffled and nodded into Remmy’s shoulder. “Me too,” she said, tearing up in spite of herself. “We uh...fuck, we could really use that right now. Just some good fairy tale kiss the girl and everything is magically all better bulshit.” She cried into Remmy’s shoulder, squeezing them as tight as her hands could stand. “Everything’s kind of hard right now,” she said, breathing through her teeth. “And she’s my anchor, and I’m hers, and I know if we have anything at all, it’s each other, but I just wish we didn’t have to fight or hold on so tight in the first place.”

“Is it still….the mushroom stuff?” Remmy asked, hoping they weren’t reopening some recent, painful wound that was going to be difficult to talk about. But maybe Morgan needed to talk about it. They didn’t want to boggart her time by making it all about them, and maybe if they got her to talk about a different subject she’d forget about why Remmy was here in the first place. “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“It’s not the mushrooms,” Morgan mumbled tearfully. “It’s...fuck, it’s secret, awful fae bullshit. It’s destroying Deirdre to do it and I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk about it with anyone. I don’t know if they could accept how brutal it all is, what she has to do, what was done to her when she was, stars, she was just eight. And she tried so hard to look for something else, anything else. She’s tried so hard to accept kindness, to be kind to people, and this thing is--I’m so afraid it’ll take that away from her, and me. And if that wasn’t enough..” She laughed bitterly and wiped her eyes. “You remember Constance? From the day I died?”

Oh. That-- that was a lot to unpack. Remmy didn’t know what to say. Lydia was very secretive about her fae stuff, except for when she’d helped Remmy escape Jax. Other than that, she did not speak of it, and Remmy did not ask. It didn’t seem right to. So secret fae shit sounded heavy. And like something they weren’t willing to push on. “I--I’m sorry,” was all they found they could say. Blinked, though back to that day. To the specter that had sat on the bench next to them, surprised to find that Remmy could see her. “I-- yeah. I remember. W-why?”

“She came to our house. Here. She came here while we were in bed. It was normal and fine and then Deirdre felt something close by and she just--” Morgan shook her head. “She would’ve killed us both if we let her. She would’ve crushed Deirdre’s throat if I hadn’t stopped her. She was solid and awful, and she wants me to die, for good this time, because of whatever bullshit made her crazy enough to curse us all in the first place.” She grimaced through her tears and reached for the bowl of nachos, cradling it to her stomach to have something to hold. “I’m going to end her first. There’s exorcisms that make ghosts hurt, and as soon as I get my hands on the worst of them, she’s mine.”

“She-- what!?” Remmy said, exasperated. They sat up enough to look at Morgan fully, as if expecting to find some sort of damage on her, some tell that they must’ve missed. But zombies healed almost instantaneously, so of course there was nothing. Nothing except the droop in Morgan’s shoulders and the weariness on her face. The unfairness of the situation, of the world, falling on her back. “But-- you’re okay now? Why, why would she do that? I thought the curse ended when you died? When you--” they swallowed, shook their head. “Wait-- exorcism?” Hadn’t Nadia said something about those? “Don’t-- dont those hurt? You want to...make her hurt?”

Morgan wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You know, I was a little busy fighting for our lives to hold an interview. But she made it clear that my sticking around after the curse is why she’s so pissed. She said ‘I am your justice and your fate.’ And that I needed to be punished.” She stuffed a handful of nachos into her mouth, but she didn’t have the appetite for it, she was too angry. “Yes, an exorcism. Yes, I want to make her hurt. For what she did to me, to Deirdre, to my mother-- do you realize she’s the reason my mother was such a nightmare in the first place? And her mother? And probably hers before that, a whole fucked up family line, just hurting each other because we couldn’t figure out or get our hands on the one who was actually to blame! It’s such bullshit. If I could still make magic on my own I’d find a way to write something to take her energy and rip it into so many pieces, if I could take it out of the cycle of the universe altogether, even better. But I’ll settle for an exorcism to the pain. I just need to find it, and someone to do it.”

“I-- sorry,” Remmy said at her first words, clicking their jaw shut and listening to the rest of her words. What she was saying, it wasn’t fair. Constance coming after her wasn’t fair, of course it wasn’t, but-- hurting someone? Specifically looking for something to hurt someone else? It didn’t sit right with Remmy. They had to say something. “I-- I know it’s not fair of her to come after you, but-- maybe she’s just confused? O-or hurting, herself? Being a ghost has to be hard. People can’t see or hear you or...a-and I’m not saying it’s an excuse, but-- looking to hurt someone like that, you...I don’t think that’s really a good idea, Morgan,” they said quietly, trying to keep their words fair and even. It wasn’t working well, they could tell by the look on Morgan’s face. And almost seeing your lover killed by a physical ghost probably didn’t help, but wanting to hurt someone just to hurt them? That wasn’t who Morgan was, right? She didn’t lash out like that in anger just for vengeance, did she?

Morgan stared at Remmy and wondered if she had been magic hexed into having another hyper-realistic dream. Surely, this was the moment when the floor folded up and crushed them, or her own mangled body plummeted through the ceiling and landed between them. “Are you completely shitting me right now?” She murmured, edging out of Remmy’s grasp. “Blanche was one thing, but you--you saw her kill me, Remmy. You were there when everything--and all those bullshit ways I almost died! And to come back just when I have my life together, you want to call trying to murder Deirdre in front of me just ‘not fair’? Geez, I hate to see what would happen if she actually finished the job! What does that get from you, a slap on the ectoplasm?” She looked at Remmy and she stood, eyes pleading with disbelief. “Tell me you are not gonna bail on me when the bitch who ruined my life is back to take what’s left of it. Tell me you haven’t forgotten everything she’s put me through.”

Remmy flinched. That had been the absolute wrong thing to say, but somehow, they didn’t feel bad for saying it. Their whole life they’d been asked to just shut up and take it and they were growing tired of it. Of not saying what was on their mind. And while they wanted to argue again, they felt a heavy weariness inside of them that told them now really wasn’t the time. “Right, no, that’s...I’m not. I’m not going to bail on you, of course not,” they said, holding a hand out to Morgan again. “Just...come back to the couch, okay? I just...let’s just watch something. Today has been...a lot, for both of us.” They looked up at Morgan with soft, pleading eyes. “Please?”

Morgan idled, holding herself against Remmy’s words. “I need this, Remmy,” she murmured. “And I need at least some of my friends to care enough to help me.” Maybe not enough, she thought, just more than some set of hopeless principles. More than whatever fear Constance wanted to put in them. More than whatever squick hang-ups a phrase like “to the pain” they held. She wanted to be more important than that. “I need to be able to trust you with this.” She held their gaze, clocking the unease but unable to decipher which impulse was winning. She still didn’t know for sure when she edged back to the couch. She passed Remmy the remote and mumbled that they could pick what to watch, still searching for a hard answer in their expression. “Everything feels like it wants to fall apart,” she whispered, shifting around, looking for that comfortable spot again. “I just need my best friend. Okay?”

The world had tried so hard to tear Remmy apart-- both emotionally and mentally. It had tried so many times to destroy them. And, perhaps, it had succeeded at times. It had torn apart their life when it had taken their mom from them. It had torn apart their life when they’d been nearly expelled from high school and practically forced into the military. It had torn apart their life when it took their squad mates and friends from them. And it had torn apart their life when they had woken up alone and afraid and forgotten. White Crest was supposed to have been a place where they could start over and build something new. And even it had tried to tear them down. Life was just trying to teach them the same lesson, over and over. And now that they’d finally learned it, they were faced with a friend who wanted them to go back on it. To bend under the overwhelming pressure of deciding if what was right and wrong, if what they believed in, meant more to them than someone’s friendship. Remmy’s shoulders drooped just a little and they clicked on Grey’s Anatomy before settling in next Morgan. All they said to her was, “Okay.”

#running up that hill #wr remmy #wr chatzy #wr remmy chatzy #wickedswriting

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ayashiki-i-i · 4 years

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Last Friday, I had the absolute joy and privilege to see Be More Chill in London!

(Yes, last Friday, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a week because I couldn’t figure out how to appropriately convey my delight with this show, and also yes, joy and privilege, call me dramatic but I swear to god nothing on this Earth makes me appreciate my life quite as live theatre.)

I have loved this show for a very long time. Not quite since its first Two Rivers Theatre run, but very early on from when it caught the internet’s attention. I was at the start of what was to become a viral sensation, and I was with the show, rooting for it, hoping for it, ever since. I feel like I walked the journey from crossing million hits on Spotify to the Broadway alongside the cast and creators. I felt immensely happy and proud for these people I never met when they announced their off-Broadway return, and I honest to god cried the day they opened on Broadway. Needless to say, I was overjoyed, literally jumping with happiness, when they announced they will stage a production on West End. Or technically off-West End? I’m still very confused how The Other Palace is not West End and Victoria Palace literally around the corner is West End... Anyway. I have not walked into that theatre on Valentine’s Day with low expectations.

And my Mount Everest high expectations were far, far exceeded and shot somewhere into the stratosphere.

I really can’t with words describe how much I loved this show. Joes Iconis and Tracz managed to hit some very special spot with this musical. It’s truly hard to describe, but this show just makes you happy. It makes you involved and interested. And I gotta tell you, I think we hit the press night, because there was a bunch of people (very respectfully) scribbling on their pads and iPads during the show, so this wasn’t an audience primed and geared for this type of musical. And that’s not even counting all the parents chaperoning their teenagers. And I can guarantee you everyone had a great time. During the intermission I went to get a drink and witnessed several conversations between aforementioned parents that all pretty much amounted to “wow, this is actually good!” It’s honestly such a treat to be in an audience that’s genuinely enjoying themselves.

This show is funny, and heartfelt, and charming. So charming. It has somehow a vibe of a really well done high school production, which could maybe sound like a criticism but i swear it isn’t!

I haven’t seen much of the previous productions, except few clips from the Two Rivers bootleg slime tutorial, but I really tried not to watch too much, hoping against hope there will be a revival one day (I try not to watch shows I have a chance of seeing one day. I’m fortunate to have the chance of having the full experience live so I try not to ruin it for myself lol). I gobbled up all the official promo clips and videos from the NYC revival, being super unlucky and managing to plan my New York trip in that small window when BMC just closed Off-Broadway and before it got on Broadway. I haven’t even listened to the Broadway recording, because by the time it came out I knew they’ll be staging a production over here. So i went in quite blind. With all that previous ado, this is how it was:

The book is so good. So so good. Many times when I fall in love with an album, the actual musical doesn’t hold up because the book doesn’t compare (hi, Dear Evan Hansen). But BMC is as engaging and fun between the songs as during them. Tbh I don’t love the changes to the songs they made, but I don’t really hate them either... Now having listened to the Broadway recording they reverted somewhat back to the original album on West End and I’m happy they did, but still. Especially Pitiful Children did not deserve the cuts. But I mean its still mostly the same album and it’s brilliant and fun, and ok, Looser, Geek or Whatever is a bop.

(Although I always kinda liked that Jeremy didn’t have a typical big “hero song” because he keeps mentioning how he isn’t a hero and it was kinda ironic that his own show refused him the hero treatment, but the song is solid.)

This cast is EVERYTHING. I’m sorry all previous casts, I love you and I respect you but i really think the British cast is (so far) the peak? Obviously as I said I don’t have the full picture to compare, but honestly these guys are all so good and I can’t imagine anyone else in these roles, they set the bar so high. Yes, even Michael. Omg I’m so sorry George Salazar! This role is his in a very special way, and I feel blasphemous saying this! But that’s what makes Blake Patrick Anderson so special, because I didn’t think I will ever be able to accept another Micheal than George Salazar. But from the first moment Anderson appears on stage, you don’t think of George Salazar. This right here is a Micheal and that’s it. I think he’s slightly less... Manic, than Salazar, and more caring, but also more stubborn, and nerdy. My friend said after the first act the character’s problem is that he’s a bit too likeable and it’s almost unbelievable he would be a social outcast and she was right. The dude is so damn likeable! So charming, so positive. And then Micheal in the Bathroom hits and omg does it hit. Also Blake Patrick Anderson has a really long name is very pretty. A+ snack. I’m in love. Scott Folan is, uh, I don’t really love him vocally... Ok I liked him until Loser Geek of Whatever. I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t his day. Or maybe that song is just written for Will Roland and no one will ever measure up? Tbh I haven’t seen Roland sing it live so who knows, maybe it is one of those songs that’s hard to perform without yelling a bit. Praying circle for the West End cast album? However Scott Folan’s acting is a masterclass. He’s so awkward in the first act, so sad, but also sweet. Actually I said i didn’t love his singing but when his voice cracks all over in his first few songs it’s superb and also his “Christiiine~” is really beautiful and lovely, so, dunno *shrugs*. And then in the second half he totally sells his confidence and assholer-y and like... They seem like two different jeremys, the squipped and un-squipped one. But ultimately he just gives such good-kid vibes. He seems like the perfect midpoint between Will Connolly’s shy Bambi and Roland’s geeky recluse. This Christine is absolutely feral. Like, you have no idea. Some people commented on the video of I Love Play Rehersal from the rehearsals that this Christine is not chaotic enough, so I’m seriously worried how chaotic Stephenie Hsu was? :D In any case Miracle Chance I thought was perfect, the ideal mixture of quirky but relatable, sweet but strong. Also she is hilarious. I’m pretty sure she got the most laugh out of the audience, not just because the actress’s absolutely perfect comedic timing but also that role is so well written. Like you really can’t get the full idea of this character until you watch the show, you know? It’s very layered, but each layer is easy to get so she makes a really fun character to watch. The Squip is hot. Like so hot. And his costumes are wonderful. And I know I’m not the only one who didn’t love Jason Tam’s accent as Squip and like... I think I know what he was going for but it just doesn’t work for me. This Squip is a lot more like Eric William Morris, just more hot. Oh yeah I mean the dude is fantastic actor too, and his voice is something impressive, but mostly I was just thinking “hot” whenever he was on stage :D James Hameed’s Rich is vocally stunning. By far the best Squip Song I have ever heard. Also he has Pickle Rick tattoo?? It’s fucking brilliant I HATE IT! :D Millie O’Connel is perfect of course. She has such a presence on stage. It was hilarious when she came out after the show, with her hair down and make-up off and said hi and people mostly kinda ignored her cause... She’s really a hurricane on stage and when she dials it down just a notch I really think people don’t connect her to her stage persona :D

(Also like, massive kudos to The Other Palace’s stage door, cause they allow you to just hang around the bar where the cast has to go through to leave the place, so no dirty alleyways stage dooring in rain and cold and possible pickpockets around.)

I really loved the staging, and it’s very small, very minimal, which isn’t something I normally like, so well done! They definitely dialled back from the Broadway (the bean bags are back!) and honestly the minimal props and simple set really suit this show. It adds to that almost-like-a-really-good-school-play charm. But also they have this massive LED screen as the background so they can change and move and animate their backdrop and it’s honestly so impressive. The artwork is so perfectly in line with the show’s aesthetic. And it’s building up and up towards the show’s climax which I thought was pretty subtle and pretty neat creative decision.

Ugh this is so long I didn’t think it would be so long :D But I have one criticism I cannot not mention. And I kinda always had this, but seeing it live it jumps out on me more - I don’t feel Jeremy and Christine :| I mean don’t get me wrong. The actors have amazing chemistry, their added song is the one that I actually really like and it makes sense, there’s so much more meaningful interaction they have in the show than the songs wold suggest. But. It still doesn’t quite sit well. Besides the fact that I don’t think the show’s narrative is about Jeremy getting the girl - that’s not really his character arc. But also, although they’re not incompatible, he gets the girl he doesn’t even really know, and she definitely doesn’t know him. I think I would prefer if they just stayed friends at the end, but if there had to be romantic conclusion... Well, I mean who doesn’t ship boyf friends, but seriously if Michael was a girl I’m pretty sure he’d be the romantic endgame for Jeremy. You know the type, the old friend who was by the protagonists side and believed in him all along? Yeah. But besides that, i was surprised to find I kinda liked Jeremy with Brooke too? I mean they have the same problem as Jeremy and Christine, with not knowing each other and all that, but at least it’s mutual, and they seemed to have a spark. But maybe it’s just because I unexpectedly really, really loved Brooke (she doesn’t have much space on the album and no one ever really talks about her, why does no one really talk about her???). She defies a lot of her archetype, she seems like such a sweet person. I guess I would just like to see more of her, and more depth to her, which a romance with the protagonist would’ve given her.

But tbh the show devotes a lot more time than I thought it would for Christine and Jeremey’s relationship to develop and it isn’t unrealistic, so it ended up being a pretty minor issue, which i though would be a bigger one.

Tl;dr (oh my god why is this so long????) this show is everything I wanted and more. The West End cast is amazing, charming and delightful and each of them is perfectly cast to really embody their character, while giving some fresh outlook on characters I thought I knew very well and filling very big shoes of the original cast I thought couldn’t be replaced. Also I didn’t talk to any of them but they spend a long time hanging out with the fans after the show and seemed genuinely super nice and pleased with the love the show is getting. The book is more than an equal partner to the music I already was in love with (also Joe Iconis was at the show I saw! I didn’t talk to him because I’m me and I will forever regret it!). The Other Palace’s staging and direction is wonderful, and the choreography is impressive and very on brand with the rest of the show, very modern, very electro and robot. I enjoyed every second and the standing ovation at the end was well deserved.

Just to re-affirm how much I loved this show - just few days after seeing it I booked a ticket to go see it again almost immediately lol. So if anyone is seeing it this Wednesday 26th Feb and you can telepathically pick me in the audience come say hello!

(Or like, drop me a message like a normal person if you’re also going alone and want to meet with someone to seem less like a weirdo! :D)

#ramblings #i have a life #be more chill #bmc #be more chill west end #i love musicals!#musical theatre #review #i guess?#it’s pretty much just me yelling what a good time i had

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minijenn · 4 years

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Universe Falls Chapter 74

Merry Early Christmas, ya’ll! Here’s an early present for you, UF’s first musical chapter! As fun as this was to work on, its honestly just... ok. Some things about it could be better but eh I was already taking way too long to get it done in the first place so I figured might as well get it out of the way. Either way, I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/189362205964/universe-falls-chapter-73

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Chapter 74: Mr. Greg

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"From the moment the meat hits the flame, my stomach is growling without any shame!"

"And I know in my gut, it's been worth the $5.95!"

"Would you like a burger? From Pepe's Burgers?"

As the catchy, all too familiar jingle brought the commercial to an end, the TV buzzed to static once again, though that static was soon filled in by the flood of reactions to the ad itself.

"Whoa! Your song is on TV!" Steven exclaimed, looking to his father absolutely starstruck as he sat alongside the twins.

"Yeah, but is it just me or was there something sorta… different about it this time around?" Mabel wondered, curious.

"The words, Mabel, it was the words," Dipper pointed out, rather deadpan.

"Nah, that wasn't it."

"Well, I'll hand it to ya, Greg," Stan remarked, arms crossed as he leaned against the side of the van. "Looks like one of your songs finally accomplished something after all these years: it made me want a burger!"

The conman let out a joking laugh at this, one that Greg joined in on, just a bit more good-naturedly. "Ah, well, that wasn't the only thing it accomplished. You guys remember my old manager, Marty, right? Well, turns out he sold my song as a burger jingle. He sent me a letter explaining the whole thing, and included in that letter was this." The former rock star pulled a small slip of paper out his pocket, presenting it to the others. At first, none of them were really sure what it was until Stan happened to be the first to notice the one, followed by a very lengthy string of zeros, written on it. Topped off by a dollar sign, of all things.

"No," the conman gasped, eyes wide as he took the check to look over it himself. "No way… G-Greg, i-is… is this real?"

"Sure is," Greg nodded, grinning. "I honestly didn't believe it myself at first but it's true. Guess I'm filthy stinkin' rich now! Ten million big ones for something I wrote years ago! Crazy how things work out, huh? And-uh, Mr. Pines? Are you ok?"

Everyone turned to look at Stan, who was obviously beside himself with glee based on the massive grin on his face as he held onto Greg's check as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And, based on how much money it actually was worth, it might as well have been. "Greg," he began, his tone uncharacteristically pleasant and saccharine. "Have I ever told you that you were the best employee I've ever had?"

"Uh… no?" Greg raised a confused eyebrow. "But… thanks?"

"But Grunkle Stan, what about Soos and Wendy?" Mabel asked.

"This isn't about them, pumpkin, it's about Greg and his millions-o-of great qualities, that is!" Stan quickly saved himself with a tight laugh as he waved the check around. "L-like his generosity for instance! Always so giving and selfless. In fact, I'm sure that if you found a worthwhile charity or, oh, I dunno, former boss of yours to donate a few hundred or thousand or hundred thousand to, then you wouldn't hesitate, right?"

"Gee, Mr. Pines," Greg smirked knowingly as he finally took his check back from the conman. "You wouldn't happen to have anyone in mind, would you?"

"Well…" Stan began quite leadingly.

"Oh please, Stan, can't you think about anything other than money for five minutes?" Pearl finally spoke up, sending the conman a critical glance.

"Uh, I would, Pearl, if there was anything else worth thinkin' about," Stan shot back with a smug grin.

Pearl simply ignored him, rolling her eyes as she took another look at the burger commercial playing out on the TV. "I still don't understand…" she said, confused. "What exactly is this?"

"You know when Rose came to my concert?" Greg began with a wide grin. "The night we met? I was playing this song!"

"...This is what did it?" Pearl asked, baffled. "Burgers?"

"It wasn't about burgers back then," Greg clarified. "But she probably would have liked this too, right?"

"...She would have loved it…" the white Gem sighed, defeated as she turned to walk to the far side of the van.

Likewise, Greg also let out something of a dejected sigh as he turned the TV off, though none of the others really seemed to notice. "So what are you going to do with all that money, Mr. Universe?" Dipper asked, curious.

"Oh! I know!" Mabel enthusiastically raised her hand. "You could buy a swimming pool and then buy another swimming pool to put inside it and fill that swimming pool with jelly beans! Or you could buy a pet monkey and a fancy tuxedo for him to wear! Or-or… a rocket ship piloted by your pet monkey, with a jelly bean filled swimming pool inside another swimming pool to take you to your own personal planet!"

"Geez, Mabel, reign it back a bit, will ya?" Stan remarked, crossing his arms. "Besides, I thought we already established that Greg was gonna donate most of that money to me-I mean, a charitable cause. Yeah, there we go."

"Heh, well, you guys have some pretty… interesting ideas there," Greg said with a small smile. "But to be honest… I'm not really sure what I'm gonna do with the money."

Despite the bewildered looks the others gave him at this admission, nonetheless the former rock star took a seat in the back of his van, pulling out his guitar to strum a simple, relaxing tune. One that he was more than happy to sing along with.

"Bright sunny day, don't cost nothin'. Light summer breeze, don't cost nothin'. What do I do with all this money? When the only thing I want is you?" he smiled to his son in particular, who instantly perked up to hear one of his father's classic, off the cuff songs.

"Palling around, don't cost nothin'. Singing a song, don't cost nothin'. How do I spend all this money? I'd rather just spend time with you."

"You could buy a house," Steven piped up, offering suggestions through song himself. "And a car."

"I guess that I can, but I've already got a van," Greg noted, nodding back to said van, a loyal, longtime vehicle he had no interest in replacing any time soon. "I could put you through college."

"But I'm with the Gems all the time," the young Gem pointed out with a shrug.

"...Or I could buy you all the finest courses online."

"What if we took a trip?" Steven ventured after a moment or two of thought.

"Do you think?" the former rock star inquired, intrigued by this suggestion.

The young Gem nodded. "We could go somewhere new! We could take a vacation, and you guys could come too!" he finished, smiling brightly to Stan and the twins as they listened in.

"Woo! Yeah! Vacation!" Mabel cheered, immediately excited by the prospect. "I've been dying to get away and see somewhere new!"

"Mabel, we've just spent the past several weeks on end away at the barn," Dipper pointed out, reigning his sister's zeal in with a small laugh.

"Yeah, but we were there to work," Mabel countered. "This trip is gonna be for fun! Right, Grunkle Stan?"

"Hey, if Greg's payin', I'm all for it," Stan remarked. "What do ya say, Greg? Tropical cruise to the Bahamas? Or are you more of a luxury beach house in the Keys sorta guy?"

"Hm…" Greg took a moment to think over these vacation ideas, before he came up with a suggestion all his own. "I know a place that's always exciting! The shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding!" the former rock star's tempo picked up from his previous song as he rummaged through the back of his van for a postcard featuring his chosen destination. "Emerald City! I'm talkin' Emerald City!"

The kids exchanged an excited glance at this, immediately taken by the idea of venturing out to the famously beautiful northern city. Still, Greg sold the prospect of the trip to them even more as he jumped out of the back of the van, his upbeat tune continuing all the while. "The streets and the sounds and the buildings heightening! A place that's so bright it's like clear, white lightning! Emerald City! Let's go to Emerald City!"

This momentum continued as Greg and Steven began leading the way up to the temple so the young Gem could start packing for the trip. The twins joined in on this energy as they followed, with Mabel dragging a much more begrudging Stan along with them.

"I know a place that's always exciting," Greg began a refrain of his first verse as the group burst into the house, startling Pearl in the process as she stood near the kitchen. "The shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding!"

"We don't need money, but it could be funny," Steven harmonized under his father's melody, quickly throwing his things into his hot dog duffel bag.

"The streets and the sounds and the buildings heightening!"

"So let's go today-"

"A place that's so bright it's like clear, white lightning!"

"Just point me the way to-"

"Emerald City!" Steven and Greg finished together, with the young Gem bringing both Dipper and Mabel into this bold final lyric. Though perhaps not the final lyric as Steven tacked one more onto it at the last second. "And let's bring Pearl!"

"W-what?" Greg balked, caught off guard by the idea.

"Ugh, kid, what's wrong with you?" Stan scowled. "I thought the whole point of this trip was to skip town and have fun. And everybody knows Pearl doesn't know the meaning of the word fun."

"Hey! I do too know what 'fun' is!" Pearl protested, offended. "Why, just yesterday, I had an exceptional un time sorting and organizing every single pot, plate, and utensil in this kitchen. And if that's not fun, then I don't know what is."

"...Well then, I stand corrected," Stan said, absolutely deadpan.

"Aw, you should come with us to Emerald City, Pearl!" Mabel said, offering a bright smile to the white Gem. "I heard there's this magical wizard there, and to get there, you have to drive on this really pretty yellow brick road. Not sure how great that is for your tires, but still, it sounds really cool."

"That's a different Emerald City, Mabel," Dipper pointed out dryly.

"Wait… you mean there's more than one?!"

"Um… still, you gotta come with us, Pearl!" Steven made another attempt at convincing the white Gem. "You always work so hard, keeping the Earth safe, keeping the house clean; you deserve a vacation!"

"Er… I don't know, Steven…" Pearl frowned, clearly uncomfortably as she turned away slightly. "Past experiences have taught me that three is a crowd…"

The young Gem was rather confused by this, at least until his father interjected in an equally uncertain whisper. "Steven, me and Pearl haven't gotten along that well, since… uh, well, since I started dating your mother." Greg frowned, casting a brief, bittersweet glance back at the portrait of the aforementioned pink Gem hanging over the door. Almost as if she was still watching, even now that she was gone.

"Oh, come on," Steven pouted earnestly. "We're all one big family! So this will be a great family vacation! Featuring the Universes," he grinned as he wrapped an arm around his dad's shoulder before nodding over to the twins and Stan. "The Pines, uh… Pearl. And don't forget Mom!"

Greg and Pearl in particular flinched as Steven pulled his shirt up a bit to reveal his Gem. Or rather, what had once been Rose's Gem.

Pearl was still clearly hesitant, taking in a sharp hiss through her teeth as she exchanged a rather uneasy glance with the former rock star, neither of them really sure how to feel about this situation. Ultimately though, the white Gem folded upon taking another look at Steven's pleading expression, one that was accompanied by similar looks from both Mabel and Dipper alike. And under that sort of pressure, how could she even hope to resist? "Oh, alright…" she sighed begrudgingly. "I… I'll come…"

"Yes!" Steven and Mabel cheered in delighted unison, though as they did, Dipper happened to consider something neither of them had.

"Wait, so if this is a 'family' vacation," he began thoughtfully. "Then shouldn't Great Uncle Ford come with us too?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel exclaimed. "It can't be a Universe/Pines family vacation without Grunkle Ford coming along! It just wouldn't be complete!"

"Uh, yeah, it would!" Stan interjected somewhat harshly. "Who says we need Ford to come with us? Heck, he'd be an even bigger killjoy than Pearl's gonna end up being on this trip."

"Stan!" Pearl huffed, annoyed, though the conman ignored her as he continued.

"Anyway, he's not coming," Stan concluded staunchly, stubbornly. "And that's final."

"But Grunkle Stan, this is a family trip," Mabel argued.

"And Great Uncle Ford is just as much a part of the family as any of us are," Dipper added much more firmly.

"Oh yeah," the conman scowled bitterly. "Well if he's really a 'part of this family' then why doesn't he ever act like it?"

Stan didn't give either of the younger twins a chance to respond as he gruffly turned on his heel and walked out of the house without another word. A somewhat awkward air filled the room at this, at least until Greg filled it with an apologetic frown. "Aw, sorry, kids. I guess it's just gonna be the six of us heading to Emerald City, huh?"

"Wrong," Steven spoke up, placing a reassuring hand on both of the rather dejected twins' shoulders. He offered them both a kind smile, one that was more than enough to tell them that he was going to help them bring their entire family together on this trip, no matter what it took. "It's gonna be seven."

"No. Absolutely not."

Steven, Dipper, and Mabel barely managed to hold back a shared sigh of disappointment upon hearing Ford's outright rejection of their proposal, one that came the moment they so much as mentioned Stan would be coming along on the trip.

"But Grunkle Ford, Emerald City is gonna be great!" Mabel urged, stopping the author in his tracks as he moved about his study by grabbing onto the edge of his coat. "We'll have an adventure in self-discovery and melt a witch with a bucket of water and sing a whole bunch of songs! It's gonna be so much fun!"

"Again, Mabel, that's the wrong Emerald City you're talking about," Dipper corrected, though he interjected once more after a beat of thought. "Well, aside from the songs part, I guess. This is a musical after all."

"Well then, you children are more than welcome to go and have a marvelous time," Ford remarked dismissively as he reclaimed the edge of his coat. "But I won't be joining you. I'm afraid I have far too much to catch up on here and besides, I have no interest whatsoever in going anywhere with-" The author stopped short, sparing a glance down at the trio of kids before he decided to cap his statement off on a seemingly different statement altogether. "I-I… I'd simply rather not go. I'm sorry."

While the twins exchanged a dejected glance at this, Steven wasn't about to give up so easily. "But Mr. Ford…" the young Gem began leadingly, grinning to the twins beside him to tip them off to his plan. His musical plan. "Wouldn't you like-a chance to escape and just break from that boring old routine?" Steven began, taking on a bright, optimistic melody, one that Mabel and Dipper were both quick to catch onto with their own additions.

"Wouldn't you like-a chance to go where you know there are things you've never seen?" Mabel sang brightly, offering the author a convincing grin.

"Wouldn't you like-to explore so much more than you ever have before?" Dipper added trying his best to match Steven and Mabel's enthusiasm.

"Cause wouldn't you like a chance to get away?!" all three kids harmonized, capping their first verse off well and aptly confusing Ford in the process.

"Why are you three singing?" the author asked, bewildered.

"Cause like Dipper said, it's a musical!" Steven grinned, though even so, Ford was still absolutely lost.

"...What? "

"Wouldn't you like-to try something new with a few of your favorite friends?" Mabel kicked off the next verse, slipping to the still-confounded author's side as Dipper did the same.

"Wouldn't you like-to be free, to go out and about to find out what's waiting 'round the bend?" he turned in with a hopeful shrug as Steven came in to finish off another verse.

"Wouldn't you like-to go searching and find everything you're looking for?"

"Cause wouldn't you like a chance to get away?!" the trio finished off in unison once more, briefly giving Ford another short-lived attempt at cutting through the song once again.

"Now, children, I-"

"Wouldn't you like-" Mabel interrupted, as vibrantly as ever. "An adventure with friends where excitement never ends?"

"Wouldn't you like-" Steven sang with a warm, brimming grin. "To go see what the world's all about, see what's flashy and brand new?"

"Wouldn't you like-" Dipper chimed in, joining Steven and Mabel as they came together for the song's grand finale. "To check out what you've missed while you gone for so long?"

"Cause wouldn't you like-" all three of the kids sang before splitting off to build up towards the end.

"Wouldn't you like-"

"Wouldn't you like…."

"A chance to get away!?" they all finished, presenting their case to the author with matching, earnest, almost pleading smiles. Smiles that even Ford was powerless to say no to.

So instead, he let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally gave in. "Fine. I… suppose I can spare a night away from my research." The author cracked a small, somewhat wry smile as Steven, Dipper, and Mabel all let out a shared, excited gasp. "But only because you kids asked in such a… unique way."

"Well, I've learned from experience that when in doubt, nothing works better than a song," Steven shrugged with a small laugh, one that Dipper and Mabel readily joined in on before they sang one final, triumphant refrain of their successful song.

"Now it's time to take that chance and get away!"

It was quite a lengthy drive in Greg's relatively packed van to get all the way up to Emerald City, though as the kids spotted the sparkling metropolis on the horizon, it soon became apparent that it was worth the trip. Emerald City certainly lived up to its glamorous reputation, with towering skyscrapers glittering against the deep night sky, casting an almost ethereal reflection upon the vast lakes and rivers and bays that surrounded it. These clean-cut, futuristic buildings became even more impressive up close as the van winded through its narrow, maze-like streets, allowing everyone a grand tour of the town, at least until they pulled up to their destination.

According to a brief internet search, Le Hotel was the fanciest, ritziest hotel Emerald City had to offer. And indeed, it fit the bill as it towered high as one of the city's tallest buildings, elegant and refined from the outside in as its grand lobby carried the same radiant theme. The group entered with various levels of amazement towards this sophisticated atmosphere, even if they did look quite a bit out of place in that atmosphere given their relatively normal attire and attitude. Even as Greg stepped up to the check-in counter, the clerk simply looked over him with a brief, haughty scoff. His manner hardly changed as the former rock star confidently presented him with his new business card, which colorfully read "Greg Universe: Bazillionaire". However, it was only as Steven peered over the edge of the counter and plopped down one of the many large stacks of cash his father had brought along that the mood of the entire hotel seemed to change. Staff passing by stopped dead in their tracks, the clerk eyed the money being presented to him with obvious shock, and all the while Greg stood by, grinning to the others about the upscale experience they were about to receive.

An experience that of course, kicked off with a song.

"Hey, shake a leg!" the clerk called the rest of the staff, who chimed in just as enthusiastically.

"Hey, shake a leg!"

"It's Mr. Greg!"

"And he's here to spend his dough all over town!"

At this, the staff mobilized efficiently, quite literally sweeping the Universe, Pines, and Pearl up to carry them off to the hotel's fine, five star restaurant. Without any hesitation, they sat them all down at the finest table in the center of the banquet hall, serving up the finest (most expensive) meal they had to offer.

"He's got the bucks!" the staff sang once again as Greg blithely answered them.

"I've got the bucks!"

"It's all deluxe."

"It's all deluxe!" Greg agreed, much to the excitement of not just the kids, but Stan in particular as he greedily began to tear into the massive, steaming steak placed in front of him. "When you're dining out with me, it's the finest steak and brie." The former rock star was clearly caught up in the somewhat manic, celebratory mood as he hopped up onto the table, catching the others off guard while he began to dance. "And if I break a table, it ain't no-whoa!" Inevitably, Greg did break the table, splitting it clean in half as he fell and knocked nearly all of the food off of it, save for Stan's steak, which the conman had wisely managed to save just in the nick of time. An awkward beat of silence passed at this as the surrounding staff looked to Greg expectantly, but all the same, the former rock star simply laughed his faux pas off as he pulled yet another large bill out of his pocket and handed it to the clerk. "Just bill it to my bank."

"A hundred bucks?!" the clerk exclaimed, amazed. "Gee, thanks!"

Before anyone had a chance to finish up their meals, the staff members led them off again, this time out of the restaurant and towards the elevator, which carried them all the way up to the building's hundredth floor. Its penthouse suite.

Said suite certainly rivaled the decadence and splendor of anything any of them had seen thus far. It was a massive complex, with several rooms, enough for everyone, all connected to the grand main room, which was completed by its very own full-sized swimming pool and slide. However, the lavish accommodations weren't the only surprise the hotel staff had in store. For after a quick round of measurements, they had managed to outfit everyone, kids and adults alike, in matching fine tuxedos and top hats, garbing them all in a look befitting the wealth they were all enjoying.

As elegantly clad as they now were, Greg and the kids alike didn't waste any time in indulging in all the penthouse had to offer, namely, its massive pool. Even despite the expensive, top line suits and ties, they all jumped right in, Greg taking the slide as Steven and Mabel canonballed into the deep end without any second thoughts. Dipper did hesitate for just a moment, that is, until the pair ultimately hopped up out of the water and pulled him right in along with them.

Yet, despite the fun the kids and the former rock star were all clearly having as they quite literally dived right into their vacation, not everyone was joining in. While Stan clearly appreciated his new upscale suit, Ford wasn't as taken with his, particularly the top hat and bow tie and the memories he couldn't help but associate with them.

"Well, these won't be missed," the author frowned, handing both off to the nearest staff member. His brother, on the other hand, gladly touched up his own with a wide, cocky grin, clearly enjoying what was perhaps his first real taste of a life of luxury.

"I could get used to this!" the conman proclaimed, barely even noticing Ford's annoyed scowl at all.

"Of course, you'd find this exciting," he remarked, arms crossed as he glared away.

"Better than your boring old writing," Stan jabbed back, reclaiming the author's top hat and pulling it down over his eyes.

"Would you grow up!?" Ford huffed, frustrated as he tossed the hat aside again.

"You first!" Stan taunted, helping himself to the penthouse's wetbar.

"Is it just me or are they getting worse?" Dipper asked, noticing this exchange from the pool as he exchanged an apprehensive glance with Mabel. Likewise, Steven spotted the obvious tension between the brothers, though that wasn't all he saw as he happened to spot Pearl, lingering quietly near the far side of the pool. Even compared to Stan and Ford, she hadn't engaged in the festivities whatsoever, instead opting to observe alone from the sidelines, seemingly unamused. That is, until Greg and Steven decided to get involved.

While Pearl didn't often change her attire, she was quite surprised to see how nicely her own suit looked on her as the kids came together to convince her to try it on at least. And from the moment she did, she couldn't help but finally join in on the lighthearted spirit of the evening. "I must admit-" she began with a growing smile.

"You must admit," Greg and Steven echoed happily as they posed alongside her.

"It's a perfect fit!" the white Gem grinned, adjusting her top hat gracefully.

"You look great in it!"

"And those fountains I found wasteful," she nodded over to one of the several elegant fountains lining the penthouse. "Are actually quite tasteful! This city's got its charm, unlike that termite-ridden barn. And any time with Steven makes for a delightful evenin'!" She laughed, falling in step alongside the young Gem for a spirited round of tap-dancing.

"You're having fun!" Greg exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

"More or less," Pearl shrugged, grinning. However, that grin quickly fell the moment the former rock star grabbed her hand to pull her into another dance.

"So dance with me, just say-"

"NO!"

Pearl's stark shout echoed through the lofty halls of the penthouse suite, bringing both the song and the cheery mood to an abrupt end. An air of startled, awkward silence filled in for both instead, one that seemed to grow even more awkward and heavy as all eyes turned to the crestfallen white Gem herself. Pearl flinched, unsure of what to say at first, especially as she met Greg's sad, yet earnest expression. "I-I… I mean…" Ultimately, however, she let out a bitter sigh, turning away from the entire group as she sulked off to some other part of the penthouse just to get away from it all. "Maybe later…"

"Boo!" one of the hotel employees called after her, disappointed. "You ruined the song!"

"Er, uh… sorry, guys," Greg frowned, dispensing a handful of cash out to the staff to compensate them as they took their leave. "Thanks for singing with us."

"W-well, I guess our super fun city vacation could be getting off to a bit of a better start than this, huh?" Mabel asked with a fretful frown.

"Yeah…" Steven sighed, looking off in the direction Pearl had retreated to. "It really could…"

"Aw, don't worry about it, kiddo," Greg reassured his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, all while hiding his own lingering regret well. "It's always been this way…"

"Hm… perhaps I should go talk to talk to her, Greg," Ford volunteered thoughtfully. "After all, I think it's safe to say I have just as much experience as you do when it comes to Pearl and this… particular problem…"

The former rock star offered the author a grateful smile at this, catching his drift all too well. "Thanks, Mr. Ford."

"Yeah, go on, Ford, while the rest of us have fun, you and Pearl can have your sad little nerd party of two," Stan remarked with an obviously teasing smirk. "See, kids? I told ya both of them would end up being nothing but a bunch of killjoys on this trip."

"Grunkle Stan-" Dipper began, shaking his head disapprovingly over such a tactless remark.

However, Ford was more than ready to intervene on his own behalf instead. "Oh, so now I'm a killjoy?" the author countered, turning back to face his brother. "Well, forgive me that I have no interest in losing my mind over a bunch of big-city frivolity."

"Tch, obviously," Stan remarked, rolling his eyes. "So if you aren't here for any of that, why'd you even come in the first place? 'Cause as far as I can tell, if ya ain't here to have a good time, then you might as well not even be here in the first place."

For a moment, Ford simply sent the conman a bitter scowl at this, much to the worry of the younger pair of twins as they watched this icy exchange unfold. However, what none of them, not even Stan himself, could have expected was what the author did next. He reached out, his expression completely unreadable as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder… and abruptly shoved him right into the swimming pool behind him.

Ford was the first, and for a long time, only one of the group to break out into a heavy burst of laughter as Stan splashed into the deep end before floundering back up to the surface, completely flustered. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you," the author chuckled, beside himself with amusement, especially as he caught sight of the conman's dumbfounded face. "But I'm certainly having a great time now!"

At this, Dipper and Mabel finally let out a small, shared laugh themselves, one that Greg and Steven slowly joined in on themselves. With the tension in the air finally cleared, Stan couldn't help but crack a small, subtle smirk himself as he pulled himself out of the pull and wrung his hat out in the process. "Alright, fine," he scoffed playfully. "Consider this payback for that time when we were in 6th grade and I pushed ya off the diving board at the public pool."

"Please, Stanley, I'd hardly consider this payback," Ford remarked with a flippant wave of his hand, even though he was still chuckling somewhat. "Especially since you did that right in front of Cathy Crenshaw."

"Aw, c'mon, sixer, you always knew a square like you would have never been able to land a catch like 'Cold-Stone Crenshaw'," Stan jabbed, elbowing his brother wryly.

"True, though at the very least I never struck out with her like you did with Carla McCorkle," Ford retorted just as confidently.

"Hey! I never 'struck out' with Carla!" the conman protested. "It was that stupid hippie and his stupid bellbottom jeans that stole her away from me! I can still remember the day they rocketed out of the Juke Joint without me and she left me behind…"

"Believe me, so can I, seeing as how you wouldn't stop crying about it for at least a week after," Ford said with a knowing smirk. "Who was the 'sad nerd' back then, Stanley?"

"Pfft, you, sixer, 'specially after your dumb 'ol bust of-what was that guy's name again? Tulip? Toyla?"

"Tesla," Ford corrected pointedly.

"Sure, whatever, 'Tesla', fell off the shelf and broke that one night."

"Well, of course I was upset about that, Stanley, it was a collectible!"

"Oh yeah? Well so was Carla McCorkle!"

A beat of silence passed between the brothers at such a bizarre remark, but ultimately, the humor of just how strange it was wasn't lost on either one of them. At the exact same moment, they both burst until yet another round of bombastic laughter, one that was completely warm and genuine, much to the delight of the younger twins observing. As they shared a delighted grin with Steven, the young Gem offered them a supportive thumbs up before gently shoving his father away to offer the family some much-needed privacy.

"Wow! Aren't we all having such a fun time!?" Mabel chimed in with a bright, leading smile. "It's nights like tonight that just make you wanna forget all of the bad stuff back in the past and look ahead to a bright and happy future, don't you guys agree?"

"Try not to be too on the nose there, Mabel…" Dipper warned in a worried whisper. And yet, neither Stan and Ford's bright mood was dampened by this as they instead offered each other a relenting, yet lighthearted grin instead.

"You know… perhaps it does…" Ford said with a humbling sigh, noting his brother's growing relief and excitement. "After all, what else are vacations like this for than for… getting away from it all?"

Needless to say a line like this was more than enough to prompt another song, one that, much to Dipper and Mabel's continually elated surprise at this situation as a whole, Stan ended up starting off. "We came all this way to give us a fresh start," he began on a tune that was fittingly airy and easy. "And now I'm wondering how we even fell apart?"

"You know it's so strange, I can't help but agree," Ford shrugged incredulously. "Maybe its this city air, or maybe it's just me."

"We've been fallin' out for way too long," Stan sang, picking up a hint of an upbeat swing. "So let's forget who's right."

"And forget who's wrong."

"Ok!" Dipper and Mabel chimed in brightly, so, so happy to see their uncles finally begin to repair all that had been broken between them so long ago.

"And here I thought making amends would be our last resort," Ford added, this time gladly accepting the reclaimed tophat his brother was holding out to him.

"But life's too short!" they sang together, back to back as they shared a cordial grin.

"To always feel shut out, forgotten by the brother I used to know," Stan's smile dimmed only somewhat at this, remembering those nearly 40 years of bitter separation, as well as his own countless mistakes along the way that had brought that separation about to begin with.

"Life's too short!"

"To never let the pain and regrets that defined both our pasts just go," Ford did his best to hold back a sigh here, knowing that those regrets were far too many to name. And as heavy of a weight as they were, maybe it was indeed finally time to just let them go altogether.

"Whoaohoh!"

"I never understood," the brothers sang in harmony, both in tune and in spirit as they both came to meet each other halfway for the first time in a very long time. "But now I do! Life's too short-to miss out on a brother like you!"

The duet came to its apparent close with another strong laugh between the brothers, one that more or less solidified the newly-revived warm feelings between them. And as far as both Dipper and Mabel were concerned, considering the tense bitterness that they had always seen between their uncles before, this was more than a welcome change.

"So are things finally, you know, cool between you guys now?" Dipper asked, aptly hopeful.

"Well…"

"You bet they are, kid," Stan interrupted, catching Ford off guard by tossing an arm over his shoulder. "Well, at least they will be once this guy gives me the 'thank you' he's owed me ever since he got back."

"Thank you?" Ford asked, genuinely confused. "For what?"

"Uh, for busting my butt for the past 30 years so I could bring you back from wherever you were, duh," Stan remarked as though it was obvious. "Geez, and I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, sixer."

However, instead of providing the thanks the conman was expecting, the author instead looked to him incredulously, almost as if he was baffled that he'd even bothered to ask for it in the first place. Which, by most accounts, he very much was. "Thank you?" he asked, scoffing right off the bat. "Thank you? Why would I thank you when you were the one who got me sucked into the portal in the first place?!"

"Ugh, that was 30 years ago, Ford!" Stan groaned, annoyed. "You just said so yourself, it's time to finally let that go."

"How can I when you essentially ruined my life?!"

"You ruined your own life!"

This dig clearly struck an all-too painful chord with both of the older twins, calling back far to many agonizing memories from 30 years past to keep any of them straight. At the same time, their niblings exchanged a distraught, desperate glance, realizing that just as quickly as things had started to come together between their uncles, in much of the very same way, they were rapidly starting to fall apart.

"So we make up and hug? That's how your story ends?" Ford began again, his tune much more sharp and harsh than it had been before.

"Uh, yeah, it'll be just like it was," Stan countered, still somewhat hopeful that things could turn themselves around. Even though he knew the line clearly had already been crossed. "Ya know, when we were best friends?"

"So that's your big plan? To force me back in a cage?" the author accused, glaring his brother down coldly.

"Whoa, let's not freak out!" Stan countered, trying his best to ease the growing tension. "Let's get back on the same page-"

"Gee, thanks for telling me that to my face!" Ford's glare turned to a false, sardonic grin as he made an attempt at shoving Stan away. "And showing off your mastery of tact and grace!"

"No way…" the younger twins sighed, realizing just how south things really were going.

"Nevermind how you spilled my secrets, gave a full report!"

"Wait-" Stan attempted to interject, but Ford clearly was having none of it.

"Cause life's too short!"

"There it is! The door you love to slam in my face!" Stan immediately shot back, his tone every bit as fierce as the author's as he spun back around to face him. "You did well there for a spell but now we're back in the same place. Tell me off if you want, but I'm the only one who wasted 30 long years on trying to save you!"

"You can waste whatever you want 'cause I don't care!" Ford huffed crossly, throwing his hands up at his equally disgruntled brother. "You're a fool who opened the portal!"

"That is SO unfair!"

"I swear!" both brothers sang in a harsh, hardened lack of harmony. "I'm through with taking your unshaking brotherly support!"

"Support!"

"Ha! 'Cause life's too short!"

"To let you get off it all so scott free," Stan scowled, his hands in tight, practically shaking fists at his sides. "Without thinking about thanking me!"

"Life's too short!"

"To listen to a reckless fool!" Ford argued hotly, borderline hatefully even. "Who only ever sees what he wants to see!"

"You don't know-"

"You have no idea-"

"What I've been through! Because of you!" they both sang together, hostile and explosive and completely unaware of their niblings' immense dread as they helplessly watched all this unfold.

"Life's too short to waste another minute!"

"Life's too short to even have you in it!"

"Life's too short!" They finished fiercely, abruptly turning on their heels before they both walked away in opposite directions, their stance on each other very clear. And as they parted ways, they left the younger pair of twins behind, awash in the echo of their angry, bitter refrain.

"W-well that… didn't go great…" Mabel frowned, disappointed. "Heck, so far almost none of this vacation has… 'specially not with those two... What are we supposed to do, Dipper?"

Dipper didn't answer right away, instead catching the briefest of glances between Stan and Ford right before they both slipped into their own respective rooms on the opposite side of the penthouse for the night. In the end though, he sighed dejectedly, not even sharing any of the same sparse shreds of hope Mabel was still clinging onto. "I don't know, Mabel…" he admitted quietly before he turned to walk away himself. "I don't know…"

And with that, the younger twins parted ways, if not in words than in sentiment, repeating the very same empty, hopeless verse their uncles had before them.

Despite the upbeat excitement that had been going around as the group pulled into Emerald City earlier that evening, those celebratory feelings were in short supply by the time they all ended up turning in for bed. With the former levity drained from the penthouse in its entirety, its guests soon slipped into slumber instead, with just about everyone taking a separate room in the sizable suite, save for Greg and Steven who ended up bunking together. And it was as they lay on the luxurious king-sized bed, quietly snoozing away, that Pearl quietly entered.

After that initial song, the white Gem had made herself rather scarce, not really wanting to face anyone, the former rock star in particular. However, as she softly stepped into the room to stand alongside the bed, she couldn't help but crack a small, somewhat bittersweet smile, especially as she spotted the bouquet of roses resting on the nightstand beside it. Pearl let out an almost inaudible sigh as she plucked one of the flowers, holding onto it gently as she let her many mingled thoughts and feelings out in a soft, solemn tune.

"I was fine with the men, who would come into her life now and again." Men such as Ford and so many others even before him, all of whom had captivated Rose in some sort of way, be it romantic or otherwise. But all of them had come, in and out of her life in a constant flux all the same, always dwarfed by just how broad and brightly the pink Gem had always shined. "I was fine, 'cause I knew that they didn't really matter… until you…"

The white Gem's smile finally fell as she looked back to Greg, unknowingly slumbering before her. Still clinging onto her rose, she slipped her top hat back on and stepped out onto the nearby balcony, all the while unaware that she had awakened a certain young Gem in the process.

"I was fine when you came and we fought like it was all some silly game." It really had seemed so silly back then, so innocent, just like so many of the others had been. Just another human who would happen to catch Rose's fancy for a while before ultimately being left behind. Another human who would never be able to stay by her side for as long as Pearl herself had. "Over her, who she'd choose. After all those years, I never thought I'd lose…"

"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?" she sang sadly, mournfully almost as the dull lights of the sparkling city seemed to float and drift around her. "It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?"

"You won, and she chose you," she admitted, knowing it was the truth. But even if it was the truth and it had been the truth for several years now, that never made facing it any easier. "And she loved you and she's gone… It's over, isn't it, why can't I move on?"

At this, Pearl performed an elegant leap onto the balcony's narrow edge, balancing skillfully between it and the city streets far, far below her. All the same, she danced deftly on that fine line, all the while reveling in both her memories and the grief that came along with them. "War, and glory, reinvention." She smiled discreetly down to the rose still in her hand, knowing just how much 'reinventing' both of them had done in their hidden, yet shared past. "Fusion, freedom, her attention." All things that she adored, that she only ever got a glimpse of, that they only ever had won because of each other. "Out in daylight, my potential, bold, precise, experimental." As she swung her rose out like a blade, once again she was reminded of just how different she had become, just how much she had broken away from everything she had ever been made to do. Then again, she supposed Rose had broken away from all she had once been before too. They both had changed, and the best part of it all? They had changed together.

But that was then. And this was now. And now… Rose was gone.

"Who am I now in this world without her?" Pearl lamented as she lay against the railing, her gaze cast up to the sky as she felt that all too familiar pain ring through her once more. A pain that she never seemed to be able to shake away, no matter how hard she tried. "Petty and dull with the nerve to doubt her." To doubt her decisions, her choices, be they good or bad. To fail to understand what she had done, what she had sacrificed even now, even still, years after the fact when she should have known, she should have understood. But… she didn't. And sometimes, she wondered if she ever really would.

"What does it matter? It's already done!" And it was. Done, finished, over. And yet… in so many ways… it wasn't. At least not to her. "Now I've got to be there for her son!"

Speaking of said son, Pearl didn't even notice as Steven quietly slipped out of bed in the room behind her, listening in on her mournful melody with apt sympathy. All the same, the white Gem slipped back onto the balcony with resignation, looking back to the city as she tried, so hard, to make it past this. To finally move on and just let it go. The only problem was, how could she let go of something as precious as the love she felt for Rose? The love she still felt for her, even now that she wasn't there?

"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?" She gripped the railing tightly, shaking her head at her own stubborn foolishness. While she didn't technically have a heart, she knew that if she did, it would be aching beyond measure. And it likely would have for quite some time now. "It's over isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?!"

"You won, and she chose you, and she loved you and she's GONE!" On this, she tossed the rose, hoping to release it and everything it represented. And yet, try as she might, those feelings, bitter, painful, and agonizing as they were, still remained, just as they always had. Just as they very well always would.

"It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?" She wondered softly, a stray tear finally streaming down her cheek.

"It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?"

Slowly, Pearl turned away from the balcony and back toward the bedroom, only to find that her song had an audience. Steven sat on the near edge of the bed, looking to the white Gem with a sad, sympathetic frown. However, the one Pearl was immediately more concerned and alarmed by was Greg, sitting on the far side of the bed, his back turned away from her and his expression unknown.

"G-Greg!" the white Gem exclaimed, gripping the edges of her top hat tightly. "You were… a-awake?"

"Nothing's gonna fix this…" Greg sighed tiredly, standing as he threw a bathrobe on over his suit. "Is it?"

Pearl faltered, unsure of how to answer this question, especially as the former rock star began to sulk out of the room. "Greg!"

"I'm sorry you had to be around me…" Greg muttered dismally as he walked out, despite both Pearl and Steven's protests.

"Dad!" the young Gem called after him worriedly, though his attention was soon turned back over to Pearl as she let out a small, guilty sigh behind him.

"I shouldn't have come along…" she said, now more forlorn than ever before, this time entirely thanks to her own doing.

"No," Steven said, his devout, serious tone catching the white Gem off guard. "This is exactly why we brought you."

Startled and confused, Pearl looked to the young Gem, bewildered, but all the same, she followed his lead as he began heading off in the same direction his father had gone. Though as they passed through the penthouse's den, they soon discovered that they weren't the only ones awake at such a late hour of the night.

"Dipper? Mabel?" Pearl frowned, noticing the pair first as they listlessly sat together on the couch. "Why are you kids up so late?"

"Why do you think?" Dipper asked, clearly exhausted as he broadly nodded over to the other side of the penthouse. Even from the den, the sound of Stan and Ford's noisy bickering could be heard, something that had been a constant for at least the past hour or so now. A constant that had, in the process, was robbing the younger pair of twins of sleep all the while.

"Admit it, Stanley! All you've ever done is hold me back!" Ford shouted furiously from somewhere down the hall.

"Oh yeah?" Stan's challenge echoed just as loudly through the penthouse. "Well at least I've done way more for you than your old pal Rose ever did!"

"Don't you dare bring Rose into this!"

"Oh my…" Pearl muttered to herself, shaking her head. "It seems I'm not the only one having a hard time moving on…"

"They're still fighting," Mabel groaned into one of the couch's plush pillows. "Which is crazy cause it actually seemed like things were finally going to be ok between those two!"

"But who are we kidding?" Dipper shook his head in resigned defeat. "They've hated each other for this long, why did we ever think there's anything that could make them stop now?"

"You guys can!" Steven interjected earnestly, offering the hopeless twins a hopeful glance. "They love both of you more than they hate each other, I know it! Which is why if there's anyone who could get them to make up, its you two."

For a moment, neither Dipper nor Mabel said anything to this, instead simply meeting Steven's encouraging smile halfheartedly. Until they both decided to go out on a limb in the hopes that such an idea could possibly have some merit. "Well, at this point, I guess it's worth a shot?" Dipper ventured with a small shrug.

Mabel nodded in support of this plan with a reassured smile, though before she could speak to it, the sudden simultaneous slamming of two different doors thundered through the entire penthouse. Something that signaled the fight was over, but the "war" was far from done. "Uh… how about you go talk to Ford while I smooth things over with Stan?" Mabel suggested, figuring that splitting up might be able to help.

"Sounds like a plan," Dipper agreed, both him and Mabel exchanging a hopeful, solidifying nod with Steven before they parted ways. At the same time, the young Gem continued on his own mission, taking Pearl by the hand as he led her out of the suite on an equally important mission all his own.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel wished each other a silent bout of luck as they turned to their respective doors and respective tasks. While initially hesitant, sure enough, Dipper did work up the nerve to finally knock on Ford's door, only to receive a very harsh reception from the other side of it.

"For the last time, Stanley, I'm through wasting my valuable time on your childish games!"

"Uh… actually, it's Dipper…"

Unsurprisingly, Ford didn't hesitate to open the previously locked door for his nephew, greeting him much more fondly than he certainly would have had it really been Stan instead. "Sorry about that, my boy," the author straightened the edges of his suit, calming himself considerably. "What can I do for you, Dipper? It's awfully late, you know."

"Yeah, I do…" Dipper frowned as Ford let him come into the room. "But do you and Grunkle Stan know that?"

"A-ah… so, you heard?" Ford said, somewhat flustered.

"Pretty sure the whole hotel heard…" Dipper said as he sat alongside the author on the edge of the bed. "Great Uncle Ford, I'm sorry, but… I just don't understand."

"Understand what?" Ford asked, confused.

"Why you and Stan won't just… let this huge grudge you guys have for each other go. I mean, I guess I get where that grudge came from in the first place but, who knows? Maybe it's time for the two of you to just bury the hatchet and... start over?"

For the longest time, Ford said nothing to this, instead letting out a long, tired sigh as he stood to face the room's large window overlooking the sleeping city outside it. When he did speak, however, his tone was surprisingly melancholy, perhaps even tinged with hits of both regret and worry alike. "We can't do that, Dipper," he said softly, simply. "And to be perfectly honest, I'm quite surprised that you don't understand why we can't."

"W-what do you mean?" Dipper asked, quite confused himself now.

"Well-and I mean absolutely no offense to Mabel in saying this, but-haven't you ever felt as though she's… weighing you down?"

"I… uh…" Dipper frowned, unsure of what to say to such an odd question.

"Uh… huh?" Mabel asked on the other side of the hall, sitting on a different bed as she watched Stan angrily pace around the room.

"Ford thinks that I need the two of us to make up and be best friends, but I don't, not anymore!" the conman huffed hotly. "I don't need him, I don't need anyone! From here on out, there's only one person I'm lookin' out for and its good ol' numero uno: me! And if you were smart, kid, you'd do the same."

"B-but Grunkle Stan," Mabel protested. "That's no way to be! Why would I only look out for myself when I have so many other people to care about, like you, and Grunkle Ford, and Dipper-"

"Ha! Good luck with that," Stan scoffed bitterly. "I really hate to break it to you, pumpkin, but just you wait. I bet good money that in 10, maybe 15 years time, Dipper will end up leaving you behind for some dumb nerd thing, just like Ford did to me. I love the kid, but let's face it, he's way too much like sixer for his own good."

"But… n-no… Dipper wouldn't…" Mabel muttered, suddenly distraught as her own mind echoed with a question she didn't dare ask aloud: would he?

"N-no, Mabel's never…" Dipper trailed off, unable to honestly finish the thought. For indeed, there had been more than a few times where Mabel's own wants and pursuits had come before his own. The all-too bitter, far too familiar memory of a certain puppet show that led to an ill-fated deal came to mind above all else. And try as he might to shake that memory so many times before, the thought of all it had nearly cost him, of what she had nearly cost him, it was a shadow he'd yet to step out of, even still.

"Dipper, you're a brilliant kid with so much potential," Ford said, turning to his nephew with absolute earnesty. "You shouldn't let anyone, not even your own family, hold you back from all you could achieve. Believe me, that's a mistake I let myself make far too many times in the past, and while it might be a bit too late for me to change that, it's not too late for you."

"Look, Mabel, I just don't want to see you get hurt," Stan sighed, placing a hand on his niece's shoulder. "Better to see it coming and be ready for it than to let it take you by surprise and knock you off your feet. 'Cause take it from me, that's a road you don't wanna go down."

"But… me 'n Dipper aren't like…" "You guys" was what Mabel wanted to say, though she didn't quite have it in her to speak it aloud. So instead, she went off on a different tangent entirely, all the while desperately trying to convince herself, perhaps even more than Stan, that it wasn't true, that it wouldn't be true, that it couldn't be true. Because if it was… she couldn't even begin to imagine just how painful that would really be.

"But… Mabel and I don't… w-we aren't…" Dipper took in a deep breath, trying to steady both himself and the newfound rush of doubts starting to fill him.

"I-I mean… sure, Dipper isn't always on board with my ideas."

"I mean, I know sometimes Mabel can come on a little too strong…"

"And yeah, sometimes he has a bit of a problem of trying to do everything by himself instead of asking for help when he really needs it…"

"And she does sometimes go way overboard and she can be kind of selfish every now and then…"

"And… And… I guess he is just a little, tiny bit-"

"A-and… and she's just so… so-"

"Stubborn." All four Pines said at practically the same exact time, acknowledging the dark thread that seemed to taint their family in more ways than one.

Ford turned back toward the window, shaking his head sadly as another song began, jazzy, yet melancholy in tune and tempo. "He listens, but doesn't hear, he looks, but doesn't see," the author closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of his own faint reflection in the window. A reflection that always seemed to remind him of his twin in some way or another. "I talk, but it's so clear. I'm talking to only me."

Stan scowled, crossing his arms after he finally removed his top hat, glaring briefly toward the door as he began an icy verse all his own. "He acts so smart, all of the time. I'm always wrong, he's always right!" He scoffed, knowing that's always how it had been, ever since they were kids, and even now. A common refrain that had been a constant all his life, one that he had always tried to break out of, but could never quite rise to the occasion, no matter what he did or how hard he tried. "Not worth the effort, and that's why I'm-Done, it's over. Hang up the fight."

Dipper couldn't help but let out a small, sad sigh, recognizing just how many unfortunate, almost painful parallels really did exist between him and Mabel and their uncles. And in light of seeing those parallels clearly for the first time, he was unable to avoid the practically crushing worry that their own usually close bond was just as similarly doomed as their uncles' had been before them. But if it was, then who's fault would that really be, all things considered? The answer to that, seemed so simple. After all, he knew very well whose fault it usually was whenever they ended up falling out with each other. "She acts out, for a response," he began, just a hint of knowing bitterness in his tone. "She acts out, and I don't mind. She always does just what she wants. I'm forced to act, like its just fine." But it wasn't, it never was, because whenever she ended up getting what she wanted, he was always, always the one to lose out in the end.

By this point, Mabel was practically holding back fretful tears, overwhelmed by fear and dread. All coming from the long, singular though that, perhaps even sooner than later, her and Dipper would fall away from each other. That the close bond they both had always known between them would be broken. That they wouldn't need or even want to be around each other anymore when they always had been. Or rather, that he wouldn't want to be around her. "Right by his side, I try to stay," she sang almost mournfully, pulling her knees to her chest as those tears finally began to well up in her eyes. "And it's ok, but it's a lie… He goes alone, on his own way, and when he does, I always cry…"

"And nothing changes," all four of them sang, sharing the same sentiment, the same sharp, yet dull ache ringing through their song and through their hearts all the while. "It's all the same. Despite the ages, it's like a game."

"It's in the family-"

"In the blood."

"It's never over."

"It's like a flood-"

"Of bitter feelings-"

"Of old regrets-"

All things running so deep in their family, so far that it was practically the foundation they were all built upon. A foundation that was crumbling, breaking until the day it would inevitably fall apart completely, taking all of them with it in the process. A day they all knew was coming, but couldn't bear to face.

"It's in the family…"

"Don't forget…"

"It's in the family…"

"We can't forget…"

While Le Hotel's grand restaurant never really closed, it was rather empty at such a late hour of the night. In fact, it's only current patron was Greg, who sat at the bar, dully, dejectedly snacking on a glass full of cherries in the hopes of easing his sorrows. That is, until his sulking was interrupted by an arrival he admittedly hadn't been expecting.

Upon hearing his son clear his throat from behind, Greg turned to find both Steven and surprisingly, Pearl standing alongside him. The white Gem offered him a pensive, awkward smile, though ultimately said nothing. Greg did the same as he stood, even as Steven offered both of them a silent nod, urging them to do what they both knew needed to be done. The only problem was, neither of them had the faintest idea as to where to start.

Which was why Steven decided to take the initiative instead. He marched dutifully over to the restaurant's grand piano, handing off a large stack of cash to the pianist to curtail his inappropriately upbeat ragtime tune. Delighted by the sizable tip, the musician hurried off, leaving the piano open for him to take over with a gentle, earnest melody of his own. One that he hoped would finally accomplish something that should have been done quite some time ago.

"Why don't you talk to each other?" Steven sang up front, catching both Greg and Pearl off guard by just how forward the question really was. "Why don't you talk to each other? Just give it a try."

Despite this soft urging, Greg and Pearl still averted each other's gaze, neither of them knowing what to say to finally break the ice that made up the frozen wall that had been built between them years ago. "Why don't you talk about what happened?" the young Gem continued with a small, yet sad smile. "I know you're trying to avoid it, but I don't know why."

"You might not believe it." The pair slowly, hesitantly turned back toward each other, sparing a brief glance over at Steven along the way as they listened to his lyrics and the warmth and care behind them. "You might not believe it. But you've got a lot in common-you really do…"

"You both love me and I love both of you."

It was true. A fact that neither of them could deny even if they wanted to: that they loved Steven, deeply and fully, just as they both had-albeit in a different way-loved his mother before him. And it was the realization of that fact that, at long last started to bring both of them together.

With tired sighs, Pearl and Greg largely ignored the rest of the restaurant, lying down on the floor as a conversation finally started to brim between the two of them. "Look, if I were you, I'd hate me too," Greg began, looking down fretfully.

"I don't hate you…" Pearl assured softly, earnestly.

"But… I knew how you felt about Rose and I stayed anyway."

"That wasn't the problem…"

"Then… what was?"

"She fell in love with you…"

"Well, you know Rose," Greg sat up, finally cracking a smile. Pearl couldn't help but do the same, sharing that same sort of fondness that they both had-and still did have-towards the pink Gem. Fondness that they always had always had in common, they just hadn't been able to see it until now.

"She always did what she wanted!"

"I know you both need it." On a bout of tearful laughter, the pair stood, and as Greg extended the offer to dance once more, this time, Pearl had no qualms about taking his hand and joining in. "I know you both need it. Someone who knows what you're going through…"

"And you might not believe it." The pair took to the floor, dancing slowly yet cordially along to Steven's song and enjoying it, and the newfound, much-needed solidarity between them all the while. "You might not believe it-but you've got a lot in common, you really do."

"You both love me and I love both of you."

"You both love me and I love both… of you…"

As both the song and the dance came to a close, Pearl and Greg still exchanged a warm smile, one that only grew as the hotel employees came out to applaud their performance. Still, both of them knew there was much more worth celebrating than that. Because for perhaps the first time ever, they could finally see things eye to eye. And the flood of good feels from that alone made both Pearl and Greg never want to return to the bitterness and shame of the past again in favor of embracing a newer, kinder future instead.

This newfound camaraderie was inevitably interrupted however as one hotel staff member came up to Greg with a silver platter, offering it out to him. "Le bill, sir."

As soon as Greg took the bill, he jolted, shocked by just how much of a hefty charge their one night stay had racked up. Of course, he now had more than enough to cover it, but that didn't make the high cost of the life of a nouveau riche any less startling. "Tailor made suits, those cost somethin'," he sang, frowning as he unfolded the lengthy bill to get a glimpse at its full scope. "Room with a view, those cost somethin'."

"Dancing with you…" Pearl interjected with a knowing, playful grin.

"Don't cost nothin'," Greg chimed in gladly, especially as the white Gem let out a small chuckle.

"Why'd we even come? We could have done this at home," she pointed out, eliciting a delighted laugh from Steven as he came over to join them. In fact, that delight continued as they returned up to the penthouse to pack their things, their expensive vacation having come to an end before anymore money could be poured into it. And yet, for relieved as Steven was by the newly cleared air between Pearl and Greg, he quickly realized upon meeting up with Dipper and Mabel again that they hadn't shared the same sort of success when it came to Stan and Ford.

In fact, if anything, all four of the Pines seemed quite forlorn as they prepared to head home, expressions equally downcast and words sparse as they all made the trip back down to the lobby. And as he took stock of this, Steven's own smile couldn't help but fade as well, even if things between Pearl and Greg were still every bit as bright as he had wanted them to be.

"Singing a song, don't cost nothin'," Pearl sang as she helped the former rock star pack up the van. "O-or was it, palling around, don't cost nothin'? Getting it wrong…"

"Don't cost nothing!" Greg cut in with an amused chuckle.

"I tried," the white Gem shrugged.

"I'm surprised you remembered any of it," the former rock star pointed out, still laughing.

"What can I say? Its catchy."

With their time in Emerald City coming to a close, everyone climbed into the van, Pearl and Greg taking the front as they kept each other entertained with reminiscent conversation-most of it focusing on fond memories of Rose-as they began the long trek home. Stan and Ford sat as far apart as they possibly could behind them, arms crossed and moods sour as they both tried to go to sleep to avoid any sort of further interaction. And then, in the back, sat Steven, wedged worriedly between Dipper and Mabel, who, much like their uncles, seemed uneasy at the very thought of so much as even looking at each other, much to the young Gem's confusion.

Steven hadn't the faintest idea as to what had transpired between the twins while he was gone, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to ask. And yet, his unspoken question soon got something of an answer in the form of a morose, quiet, yet unwitting duet between the two, one that Steven listened in on with growing concern all the while.

"Tried so hard to fix it all, to let it grow…" Mabel started, her usual cheery tune currently anything but.

"From the ground up, but it wound up that now we know…" Dipper continued with a sigh, staring out the window as the cityscape passed them by.

"Life's too short…" the twins sang together softly, almost mournfully over an agonizing truth they'd never once considered before. And in the process of discovering it, indeed they were a bit wiser, though certainly much more sadder for it.

"To see there's much more out there," Dipper kept his sights on the window as Mabel slowly, fretfully spared a discreet glance past Steven over at him.

"To see that you don't care…" she lamented, fighting back tears.

"Was it them who were wrong?" they both sang, looking toward their uncles sitting in front of them. "Or was it us all along?"

"I wish I saw things clearly," Dipper closed his eyes, shaking his head in gentle frustration.

"I guess I'm not the sort…" Mabel faltered, barely letting a small sob choke out.

"Now all we know as life's too short…"

Silence filled in between the twins at this, striking Steven the hardest as he sat in the middle of it all. While he still didn't know what had really happened, he could tell that whatever had managed to harm them both. That it had broken something between them, even if there was no real telling what.

Which was why the most the young Gem could hope to do was to repair that break before it inevitably ended up tearing two of his closest friends apart.

"But… it's… not over, isn't it?" he sang to himself, echoing Pearl's own song with the same sort of woe and regret the white Gem herself had sang it with.

"It's not over, isn't it?" he sang, even as they left Emerald City and everything that had happened there behind. Or at least, that's all he could do to hope, even as he realized it wasn't true. For as one problem had indeed been solved on this trip, it was all too clear that an entirely new one was only just beginning in its place.

"It's over… isn't it?"

#ignore the lack of proper formatting on this #and just go read this on ff.net or a3 instead pls #jen writes #universe falls #steven universe #gravity falls #crossover #au #mr. greg #steven #pearl #greg #stan #ford #dipper #mabel #keyword is emerald city

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steve0discusses · 5 years

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Yugioh S3 Ep 46-47: We Have an Extra Episode, Just Blow Up the Island, I Dunno

Yo can you even believe this season is over?

It was honestly a two-season season, when you think about it. This tournament that was only like a week in showtime but two years in watch time if it was 2001 and I was tuning in every week. Kinda nuts when you think about it.

Anyways, it’s over, and not even the Kaibas are willing to really let it end. They’re camping out in their bunker they just set to explode, just watching everyone run around like ants while the sirens wail across the island (do you NEED emergency sirens if no one else lives on this island?)

And we get one more time for the writers of this show to flip over the Kaiba timeline like pancakes and I just...

I can’t believe they did this to me, but at the same time I can totally see how they just let this one fly under the radar, just wait for it, it’s coming.

(read more under the cut)

So this sort of explains a little bit more of why Kaiba insists on building Kaibaland when it already exists, as apparently the Japanese Kaibaland was just the first of a franchise. Like seriously what child dreams of Franchising? He has Kaibaland but is like “I won’t be truly happy at all and I will try to cut people up with card games until there are more Kaibalands. That will surely make me happy. More Kaibalands.”

But then, sitting in the middle of the orphanage, he stands up in his 70′s ass sweatervest and proudly proclaims:

This borked timeline.

Back in the present Joey is feeling stressed out so he’s turned to his only coping mechanism, that’s right, he’s hassling people.

Duke, who has a million motivations to want to kill Kaiba, since he works for Pegasus, brings up the bright idea of “or I dunno, we could leave them? Like they very much caused every event of the last week to happen outside of the random ass cultists.”

And so, now that Joey has exhausted things to hassle, let them be Roland or the massive engines on the blimp-plane, he decides to board the helicopter. I kid you not, Tea turns to Joey as they’re boarding the copter and says basically along the lines of this:

WTF, show. Like what? Like whaaaat? Anyway, don’t think about how big a helicopter is on the inside, because we’re just gonna shove everyone in here like it’s a mosh pit. Good thing that no one actually packed any luggage or pajamas, so at least that will keep the weight down.

Please admire the height of Yugi compared to Roland.

What followed was an explosion that the show did for...some reason. This didn’t need to happen. This was needless anxiety and it’s like..the season’s over why are we doing this???

So this is just a very Yugioh moment where...they didn’t really HAVE to blow up the island at the last minute. They didn’t HAVE to break the engines on the blimp-plane and they absolutely didn’t HAVE to put Seto Kaiba in a jet in the same very un-aerodynamic shape of a blue eyes white wife.

But they did.

If I’ve learned anything from watching Yugioh is that you must always, at every moment, be going 400%.

Seto just wanted to make a simple visual statement of “I want to move on from the past” so he decided to uh...do a very theatrical statement that was so theatrical that everyone thought that not only he and Mokuba had died, but that they, themselves, were about to die (and they were, they absolutely were)

Please admire the way they drew Seto from the side in this scene.

Anyway, now that the completely unnecessary “lets blow up the island and destroy the ecosystem” drama is over, and Kaiba’s off to encourage Global Warming in some other part of the globe, it’s time to send Marik off on his boat. It’s time for him to go have Marik Boat Time and never ever become a spinoff series although you know I would absolutely watch the hell out of that.

So, they choose the most idyllic landscape to do it, here in the abandoned warehouse district, surrounded by shipping cranes and strangely empty cruise liners. Ah, that twilight hour sunset. The way the sunlight kisses the corners of the abandoned warehouse’s windows.

I am absolutely shocked our background artist didn't use the chance to paint it neon orange. They love neon orange so much but I guess they save the neon for dramatic scenes. This one they left a more natural Instagram creamy color palate.

(PS at this point I guess Bakura decided to go home or go to the hospital. Whichever reason he decided to bounce, he bounced without saying goodbye to anyone apparently. That or the show just decided that no one cares about Bakura so he was the only one we didn’t say a farewell too, which is hilarious since he’s one of the most popular characters on this show.

Bro broke it to me, this whole story line of the puzzle and the tablet and all that--nah. By the time we get to it I’ll have forgotten all of the lore, pretty sure. Bro did ask me if we could skip S4 and I said no we are here for the worst parts first, Bro. When it gets horrible is when we’re finally getting to the good stuff.

Then, Duke suddenly remembered that before this tournament, he was only going on a walk between laundry loads but ended up abducted twice over, stranded on a submarine, an island, and nearly exploded. That and he had to sleep on one of Kaiba’s weird cube couches and that probably sucked. But it’s time for him to pull out his colors and add some bounce sheets to his whites for the dryer.

Can you believe they had Duke Devlin for two seasons but he only dueled once? Lol.

I can’t believe there was never a purpose for Duke Devlin other than to be eye-candy. I’ve only ever really seen this trope done to girls.

Mai also suddenly remembers that she doesn’t live here.

TBH, if Mai wasn’t put in a coma, I think she would have just left the tournament after she lost. She’d have pulled out a hang-glider from her pack and just sailed away rather than spend another minute with people she isn’t absolutely required to hang out with. That seems more her jam.

And then they had to frame up this Joey/Mai ship and...it’s just so funny when you remember that Mai is like waaay to old for Joey. She’s like 24 and he’s a baby but he’s pretty sure that he’s disappointing her so much by not telling her all about how he’s crushing. He’s pretty sure she just has no idea when it’s like, no, she does, and she does not want you to acknowledge it.

As she goes off, Tea for some reason decides to make it her responsibility for Joey to go out there and I guess...mortally embarrass himself in front of his much older crush? I mean you don’t really have to admit to your teachercrush that...you like her? Like, Mai is just a teachercrush right? Like he respects and admires her, she’s pretty, and there’s no other girls but Tea and Miho? Like that’s it?

This weird ass couple. And I mean it’s a weird pairing just because it can never happen on screen, but as some of you have pointed out--it is probably the healthiest couple in Yugioh. Mostly because we know that it will never happen. Unlike everyone else where it’s like, Joey better go eat both those pieces of paper with those phone numbers on it because holy hell a 16 yo dating a 12 yo is pretty freakin wild. What are those boys even going to talk about with Serenity? How wild fractions are? How to make a replica of a cell out of Jello for the science fair? Because that’s the level she’s at.

I was an architecture student once (I know. Ya’ll who’ve read many of these have probably noticed I attempted to major in nearly every art alignment so it’s probably very confusing to figure out wtf I actually ended up finishing in school (it was Illustration) ) so I just can’t with Yugi’s house. We have seen several rooms inside this house and none of them, absolutely none, line up with the outside of Yugi’s house (which is smack dab in the middle of the inner city for some reason??? Like does Yugi have PARKING? This is the most expensive two story house in Japan, it comes with free parking.

And like...I have tried to lay it out but it doesn’t make sense. The stairs of the shop go directly into the front door. The second floor would be half a staircase, so where is this living room? And assuming that Yugi is on the top floor with the slanted roof window...how? Is it the entire floor? what is going on here?

It’s a cartoon, I shouldn’t think about it, but this house is a Dr. Who police box. Anyways, Yugi decides to sneak out of the house by going down the stairs that are again, right in front of the front door. You cannot go through the front door of this house because these damn stairs are directly in the way.

Hey check out who’s alive, it’s Grandpa. I guess he’s...fine? I guess he just woke up on the floor of Bakura’s hospital room and was like “Screw that, I’m going home.” and then just peaced out here until Yugi came back.

I respect his moon pj’s to go with Yugi’s star pj’s.

I can’t imagine being in Grandpa’s position and seeing your boy go out there and get nearly killed by crazy ass cultists again and Seto Kaiba (who put him in a coma), and then catching him Sneaking Out. Like if I were Grandpa I’d just set up camp right outside of the front door because holy hell Yugi is so attracted to danger he’s just gonna waltz around the city in the middle of the night to play cards.

++++++++++RANT ABOUT TACO BELL, FEEL FREE TO SKIP THIS IS JUST ME TALKING ABOUT THE TACO BELL MENU+++++++++++++++++++++++++

Also I looked up Taco Bell in Japan thinking that this wouldn’t be a thing (from what I’ve heard, the only food Japan cannot do is Mexican) but not only does Taco Bell in Japan completely exist, guess what the menu is like? Just go ahead and guess in your head, I’m gonna go over the menu right now because this is very important.

I was expecting it to be pretty wild with a black taco shell made out of squid ink or something but surprisingly, it’s mostly the freakin same but different meats. Like they have a few more pork options (I guess instead of chicken?) and they have a shrimp taco--which I feel like we’ve done in the States before but everyone didn’t like that. Also, you can apparently get a crunchwrap, but it’s in a triangle shape instead of an octagon. They just changed the shape and called it a “stuffed grilled giant nacho”.

Obviously, they do not have a Ranch Doritos taco since America is the only place that is fully obsessed with Ranch. I have heard from so many people from Asia that “can we just not have Ranch today? Can we have a single spread without this weird garlic sauce? And...are you dipping your pizza with it? Is there one thing you haven’t coated with Ranch Dressing?” and it’s like no. There isn’t. Would you like to try our taco bell taco that is frosted in messy Ranch dust?

Like it really feels like this is the one fast food joint where everyone else has the normal Taco bell, and weirdly WE are are the people with the weird ass version of Taco Bell. Even Japan was like “you guys do you over there with your pink Starburst flavored frozen icee and your Quesarito...we’re just gonna put some extra cheese on a taco and call it ‘double cheese.’”

But here’s the craziest thing on the menu--the Taco Bell in Japan has FRIES.

I KNOW.

WHAT????

What would Taco Bell fries even taste like? Would they taste...tacoey? I mean I know that nacho fries are a thing that kinda comes and goes but I’ve never had them actually. Its never the right moment for nacho fries when Nacho fries are still on the menu.

but, I will say they do have one kind of weird thing on the menu I see online. I say “kind of” because it’s...just weird, it’s not actually all that out there as compared to our weird things in Taco bell. They got something called the “honey cheese pocket” which was a small plain flour tortilla filled with melted Monterey Jack cheese rolled into a cigar that you dip into honey.

...I mean...it probably tastes good, but if you released a honey cheese pocket in the States and pretended that’s Mexican food, I’m pretty sure every state touching the south border would cry a single Zesty-ranch-doritos-taco-shaped-tear. I know I would, at the same rate I’m stuffing honey cheese pockets directly into my mouth.

AND...apparently you can just serve alcohol in a Japanese Taco Bell. Which is interesting, because we had that episode of Season Zero where Yugi had to find alcohol in a burger joint, which seemed really odd to me at the time, but I guess you can just serve alcohol in whatever restaurant? Anyways, Taco bell has alcohol so now Yugi can light people on fire in a Taco Bell, if he really felt like it. Go ahead and append your fanfictions accordingly.

+++++++++END OF TACO BELL RANT, BACK TO CARDS ++++++++++++

So, can you imagine having a friend who forces you to wake up at o-dark hundred in order to play cards when you already attend all of the same classes and see eachother every minute of the day otherwise? Can you imagine having a friend like this?

Then again I’m not 100% on whether Pharaoh needs to sleep. It’s pretty clear that Bakura’s ghost doesn’t sleep much (or apparently eat much) so maybe it goes the same for Pharaoh as well that he needs Yugi to remind him how to be human.

Then there was this weird review episode they slapped on at the end. I...don’t know why they put it there, it was really more of an afterthought since nothing really got added or taken away from the finale. It was just a review episode of “in case you didn’t watch this season, here’s what happened this season” But the episode wasn’t over before Tea angsted the hell out about this kid that I guess she’s...

Tea thinks in her head about Yugi more than she talks directly to Yugi. That’s really my biggest issue with this couple. Tea can be so lukewarm towards Yugi and visa versa and then occasionally Tea will just snap and obsesses over this boy, but never tells him about it directly. Except for that one time in the blimp, which was more about “please don’t die”. But have they talked about how freakin anxious she is about how he’ll die? Nah.

It just feels like the writing team had one person who really liked Tea/Yugi, and then the rest who were like “fine, wtv” and so we get a real inconsistent narrative of this pair, that only seems to come up for drama, but then goes right back to being invisible moments later. Like sightings of a giant squid.

Ah, back where they started, on a date with a ghost. I think. This might be a date? It started at 2 PM so I don’t know that counts as a date yet.

These two are a lot.

And honestly...If it was going to happen it should have happened at some point in the end of this arc. She made such a big deal about him going off to card war, and now he’s back and she’s like...ok, cool.

They’re not gonna even talk about it? Or like...maybe high five it out? High five out those feelings? Man I feel so bad for anyone that shipped these two.

But anyway,

I’d add it to the Yugioh Death Count but that’s assuming that I don’t find an excuse to use this font again.

So yeah, that’s it for Season 3 (I wrote in Season 4 just now and had to really think about it because like...it really does feel like I went through 4 seasons, at least, of this show since every season is like 50 episodes)

Originally, when I started this, I thought there were only 3 seasons of Yugioh total. This was the end goal.

But I guess I’m committed now, so we’ll start up Season 4, which bro tells me is “completely different and not what you expected” but I probably won’t post until 2 weeks from now because this is a side hobby and I don’t need to wax long about my main-life stress, but youknow how it is: the more stuff I add the more stuff adds up. However, I do cope with stress by typing, so maybe I’ll just make sooo many updates to combat it? I dunno. But the blog will be back for S4. Eventually. When I get to it.

Many thanks to all y’all who’ve left many kind comments, I’ve been kind of tasked for time lately, so I haven’t really responded to many, but know that I see them and I’m thankful for them and I tell bro about them and he finds many of them amusing and y’all are just very, very nice. Wish Tumblr had an actual comments system since the only way to reply is like...it’s weird. If I reblog my own post I run the risk of it then being out of chronological order for people wanting to read that link I put at the base of each post so...I have to either make a new post to reply or reply within the post and I dunno if y’all can even see that type of reply...it’s tumblr problems.

Anyway, I’ll have a Graveyard for next weekend, maybe an art post, I dunno. But, I’m not dead, just watching how weird the next season is and making a buffer.

And here’s that link to read all these recaps in chrono order from the beginning

#ygo #yugioh #s3 #we finished s3 #s3 ep 46 #s3 ep47 #I might have those episode numbers wrong because 47 is a weird episode to end on #but I'm not gonna double check because we done #yugi muto #tea gardner #tristan taylor #duke devlin #serenity wheeler #seto kaiba #mokuba #mai valentine #a very long rant about taco bell

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