#it all feels like a first draft which had some possibly good ideas thrown in and then they just didn't bother editing it down | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valeriefauxnom · 3 months

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Scaling Removed Scenes

So, even if I use most the content I type, or am at very least able to repurpose scene ideas, sometimes things just don't quite make it into the cut. It might be for characterization, the tone a section had that is now at contrast with the rest of the chapter (as me, who tends to write random interesting bits of several upcoming chapters in the future and then strings things together, cannot exactly foresee where the plot is), or just because a better idea popped up. (Yes, you are also reading this right in that I am a 'pantser' flying by the seat of my pants with ideas vaguely glued together as I stitch things together! ...I'm not good at outlines.)

The point remains: this is things that aren't Scaling 'canon' or congruent. And despite it all, some of these are snippets or, rarely, basically fully polished segments that no longer fit. So instead of letting them rot forever in my drafted works, I figured I'd at least try and put some of them somewhere as maybe a fun little thing for anyone interested to see What Could Have Been.

Here's one, which with the latest chapter is out of the running. My first draft and ideas for this section involved the Trio of Eldest Siblings being the ones to face an even angrier Mids, and it would have been much earlier in the chapter. As things developed, it was ultimately thrown out for quite a few reasons. For one, Euden Tower Defense and resulting drama had not yet entered my mind. It also felt like a bit too...productive for a single section, in that Mids is giving incredibly huge pieces to the puzzle all in once, even if he might be a bit looser with info when mad. Combined with other things, it was eventually 'repurposed' into Leo's encounter(s) with Midgardsormr. You'll see shades of elements here and there!

That being said, I'm not exactly sure what to do with these little bits and pieces. This is probably the biggest piece I can think of that is truly out of the realm of possibility now. I'm not sure whether to just post 'em on Tumblr for easy finding so they don't get lost in my own drafts or posting them to a new single work on AO3 or something, with chapters dividing the different failed sections. What might work best/be preferred for any readers here, for convenience or something?

Without any ado, though, now that that's out of the way, here's the section in question, a full 2.7k that had developed wings but nevertheless failed to fly enough to make the Cut!

“And then, before I could explain his behavior to Father as nothing more than dismay that Father was hewing closer to the core of the matter, Father dismissed me as if I were naught more than a schoolboy throwing a temper tantrum! Infuriating. We just might have had some answers by now, but Father’s saccharine tendencies nipped it in the bud and allowed Euden to escape yet again from answering any uncomfortable topic.” Leonidas said as he relayed his experience with Father and Euden last night, only pausing to angrily sip his tea.

“One question: were you acting as a ‘schoolboy throwing a temper tantrum’, o wizened, most temperate elder brother, or at least resembling one enough that Father strayed closer to caution than boldness in assuming Euden’s intentions? You do have a certain…vigor in you that can oft make it appear you are feeling more intensely about a matter than you actually are.” Phares said, jovial to Leonidas’ annoyance.

Chelle hummed in agreement. “With the fire in his mere recounting of last night’s events, I too would struggle to blame Father for erring on the side of caution when interpreting your interpretations.”

“Perhaps I ought to head posthaste to Valkaheim, if that is how I am appreciated here, and leave you to figure out the truth all alone. First you disregard me and my orders, only to deride me as if I were a petulant, emotional child.” Leonidas huffed at their light teasing as the trio of eldest siblings gathered once again to consult with each other over tea.

“Winter is not due for how many months, and yet brother dearest is already wishing to abandon us to frigid winter to enjoy the warmth of Valkaheim? How cruel and cold, much as my elder brother’s heart, it seems!” Chelle exclaimed with faux hurt. They all knew Leonidas was merely expressing exasperation at not getting his way yet again, instead an actual threat to return to his city as he did for all winters. It wasn't as if Chelle would be here for winter either, more than happy to return to Chanzelia to escape the freeze as well.

“Oh yes, how very devastating, his willingness to leave his infirm, sickly brother to the capital, trusting that he won’t even be able to hold a coup in the meantime…” Phares joined right in the teasing with a hand clutching his chest and blatantly lying. While far from the raw physical strength Leonidas or Valyx could muster, he wasn’t exactly infirm now, either, and a master of all forms of the lance aside.

“As if you wish the throne, anyways… We’d have an easier time convincing you to remain in a library for a year than maintain the throne for half that.” Well, that too, as Leonidas pointed out. Phares was more than content to stay holed up in his study or wandering the world in search of truth and science, making his words mere bluster. The one singular time Leonidas and Father had both been struck ill by an illness for a few days enough to demand a regent, Phares made his displeasure acting as such clear enough by his sulking.

“Hm, that actually might be a pleasant reprieve from-”

They were interrupted when a sudden strong breeze sent wind whipping across the courtyard. Chelle had to rapidly snatch her fan off the table before it could be carried away. Looking to the sky, baffled by the sudden change in wind, they soon had an answer.

Midgardsormr had returned to the castle, and he was evidently interested in coming to land in their courtyard.

They watched in silence as the dragon slammed onto the ground much louder than necessary, each formulating their own idea about the situation.

“Heiritors of dragonblood, what have you done to Euden?! Answer me or your lives might be considered forfeit!” The dragon all but roared, staring them down with all the fury of a powerful Greatwyrm.

Leonidas stood up. The rest of them followed, but Leonidas held out an arm in a signal to stay behind him. “Explain what you mean, wyrm. We’ve done nothing. Whatever you mean, it was not our act.”

His words sounded cold as ever, but the remaining siblings could tell he was preparing himself for a fight. Even the causal omission of ‘Great’ in front of ‘wyrm’ would be considered severely disrespectful. To do so in front of an angry dragon was tantamount to begging for a fight.

“Then you mean to claim you have nothing to do with his current status? He had fled. Escaped as planned from you, and so I departed to track him down and rejoin him. Only after some time searching did I feel his mana again echoing back to this very castle and just outside, this time ever-so-much-weaker. It is clear you, as the connecting factor, did something drastic to incapacitate him!” With every huff, verdant tendrils of wind mana cascaded out his mouth and nostrils, a passive reminder of the power dragons commanded by virtue of their creation.

“The only thing our family has done of late, Greatwyrm, was save him from being preyed upon by fiends and dying from shapeshifting rebound. He’s currently being treated to the best of our capacity and with all kindness possible.” Phares said in a more placating tone than Leo’s harsher rejection.

“Clearly a lie. It was you who first imprisoned him into this castle, and halted him from shapeshifting! Evidently, now that he reclaimed his ability, you must resort to other methods now that the accursed collar is nullified from his efforts. Exactly what I would have come to expect from such conniving siblings who seemed to seek nothing less than his complete annihilation at times!” Though the Greatwyrm appeared calmer by actually being willing to hear them out, he was still obviously angry, judging by the way his tail thrashed about and knocked over things at random.

Despite the more pressing concern trying to calm down a Greatwyrm from attempting murder (and one that would likely succeed against at least one of them), Midgardsormr’s words sent their heads spinning as they processed.

First, the dragon had implied that Euden had shared with him that they were siblings before he saw fit to reveal the same to Father, as well as plotting escape with him. Second, Midgardsormr seemed to believe they sought Euden’s ‘annihilation’ and spoke as if he had a history with them longer than a month or two. Whatever could that mean or have originated from? Had Euden and him truly been speaking so dramatically of affairs here? It hadn’t seemed like it, the one time they partially overheard a discussion of theirs… Though they admittedly were speaking secretively in their utilization of Draconic, a nearly dead language that even dragons seldom used for anything beyond ancient literature and magic study.

“Greatwyrm, if you are truly so unable to take our words for what they are, I implore you, by all means, visit your pactbound yourself to see with your own eyes that he is not being mistreated. We know not what you are referring to, but it is not our wish to see relations soured between the Kingdom and the Greatwyrms.” Chelle offered, testing the waters by calling Midgardsormr and Euden ‘pactbound’ to gauge his reaction.

The dragon fell silent then, failing to provide a reaction as he maintained his stare as if he were weighing their souls. “...I will hold you to your offer, dragonblood.” He held his snout up high in the air for a minute, before he abruptly took to the air again.

“...He looks like he’s going to our bedrooms,” Phares said as he observed the dragon’s flight, “They must be pacted after all or otherwise engaged in some sort of bond. Tracking down the mana of a shapeshift is one thing, but to be able to pinpoint his location like this suggests a deeper connection. Even Uranus wouldn’t be able to pin my exact location, and we’re essentially in lockstep.”

“Phooey. My hair is all messed up now.” Chelle said instead as she tried to school it into a neater semblance of its former glory.

Leonidas’ hair was similarly messed up, though he did not seem to care aside from moving it away from his eyes. “Pick up your slackened jaws and lances, guards. The threat is not gone. Sister, Brother, you may wish to go inside. If the beast is to attack, let him claw through the walls to do so, preferably when you are armed.”

Midgardsormr’s strong wind and strong…verbiage had made some of the guards drop their weaponry in shock.

“And let you engage in diplomacy, when you’re already mentally strategizing how to fight a Greatwyrm? Perish the thought. If we run, he could just as easily take that as confirmation we feared his wrath when he discovered something.” Chelle dismissed, taking her seat again as if a dragon did not just threaten that he might take their lives.

Phares hummed in agreement. “Besides, we did just invite him inside. There would be a fair probability his hypothetical rampage would commence there. We simply must pray we’ve given no accidental cause for Midgardsormr to interpret as neglectful.”

They then sat in mostly silence despite the gravity of the situation, their previous discussion tabled. The only marker of some time passing was the increasing presence of guards entering the courtyard, no doubt responding to frantic calls to arms regarding a hostile dragon in the place only to find it empty.

But finally, Midgardsormr could be seen in the skies once more, landing again, this time with a more reasonable slam. He graciously chose to ignore the few guards that nervously pointed their spears in his general direction to focus upon them again.

“I will acknowledge that your current story appears to be veracity, kin of dragonblood. Euden is yet asleep, but all that I could gather from others suggested your words to be true. For once.” The bluster in the wind and his mood seemed to die down.

They could only be pleased the dragon was of the sort able to calm himself when proven wrong, though he was not pleased about it. Many dragons, much as humans, struggled to accept any notion of faultiness and many a cautionary story ended with a dragon going on a rampage only to find out their driving reason was incorrect.

“Our thanks for listening to us, Honorable Greatywrm. Please, if there is aught more you might like to hear to clarify the situation since your departure, do ask.” Chelle said in her smooth tone that served to soothe ruffled feathers (or scales) and cravats alike, eager to further iron out any misunderstandings and perhaps win back some goodwill.

The dragon looked more contemplative at that. “...How did you find out that he was your kin? The environs were richly decorated and well-guarded in such a way that suggests you live near his new quarters, no? What caused his change of scenery from being secreted away above the castle as little more than a prisoner?”

“He revealed it to our father, though not particularly freely. It was a miracle we’ve gotten that much out of him despite that being the most logical conclusion since the first day he stepped inside the castle, and even that reportedly set him crying and pulling out his own feather. Utterly ridiculous.” Leonidas responded, shaking his head with distaste.

The dragon sighed. “...Feather? Whatever is going on with you?” He muttered, lost in thought, “...All I know of Euden would not correlate to most behavior you and your servants consistently described. Still, know that I will not break the bonds of trust placed upon me and thus will not speak of his secrets.” Sage as reputed, Midgardsormr had already deduced the likely request that he share information with them if he were truly so concerned and preemptively responded.

“Then,” Phares swallowed, buying time to think of a way to phrase his inquiry, “...If you cannot, is someone else who might? We’re increasingly at our wits’ end trying to find out anything that might help him. As soon as things look to be improving, something backslides him three steps before seemingly without rhyme or reason as he refuses to explain.”

“...There exists none who could share his life story, anymore. They are gone. The sole keepers are him and myself, and even I know not all.”

They paused at that plain confirmation that they had no hope of finding any record or person that knew of Euden aside from those presently within the confines of their current location. However many were that could have before, they were likely dead if that was how Midgardsormr addressed them.

“Ah. I see…”

“All fine and well, but do you seriously intend us to twiddle our thumbs and gently try to prod him into revealing another scrap of info, only then to have to wait another month before any notable progress can be made again and trust he doesn’t find a way to die or maim himself accidentally in the meantime? That is the pattern of late, and one that cannot be allowed to continue. If you profess care enough to open yourself up to attack from the entire kingdom, I would remind you of the consequences of silence.” Leonidas said, not falling into Phares’ melancholic mood so easily.

“Dearest brothers, this was supposed to be an opportunity to answer questions of the dragon, not ask them, regardless of your points.” Chelle reminded.

“I intend to honor the trust placed in me, little ember, especially as I am the only one whom he can rely upon now,” the Windwyrm dismissed, flicking his tail in displeasure, “Control your fire before it sparks the wrong blaze. Regardless, there is little I wish to ask that I could receive an adequate response for. I will permit you to continue your inquiries as I see fit.”

The diminutive appellation of Leonidas as a ‘little ember’ had him cross his arms in distaste, -also probably from the reminder he had no true control whether the dragon stayed to listen at all.

“Then, Windwyrm, if you will not enlighten the darkness, advice on how to illuminate it ourselves would be helpful. We’ve any number of scattered facts, but connecting them into a singular narrative is proving most difficult.”

“...I will speak with him as soon as he has awoken before I do anything more. But I will leave you with two pieces of advice: Euden, as most every living creature, is more helpful when met with kindness than not.”

“Windwyrm: we’ve tried making most every concession allowed either for his health or per our lord Father’s orders. We would struggle to think of aught other kindness one could provide. He asks for near nothing, and so nothing we provide.” Chelle protested, incensed at the implication they were meeting him with unkindness.

It was uncanny, how so many dragons could hold so still for so long. Had they not known, one could have taken Midgardsormr as a very fancy, exorbitantly expensive sculpture. “...And have you considered your mere presence is its own form of torment to him? Therein lies my second piece of advice: regardless of how illogical it may be, the least likely answer is more often the closer one to your answers.”

“Illogical in what-”

Before Phares could finish, Midgardsormr took off yet again abruptly as he first came, deciding the conversation was over.

“...Well, that was certainly interesting. A pity he grew tired of questioning so quickly. I had many things I might like to ask about.” Phares blinked, interrupted in the middle of his question and left watching the dragon go.

“Nothing like a touch of mortal peril to enliven one’s afternoon, hm? Though, Leo-Leo, I must say, how dashing to come to your siblings’ aid! I’d almost begun to believe you were devolving into a crude brute with no sense of chivalry!”

“How is it that you can turn to jape so quickly in the wake of what just transpired? Do you fools even realize the precariousness of that situation? Regardless, I simply did not wish you to be in my way if the dragon were inclined to attack. That is all.”

“Mm-hm…” Two skeptical voices sounded, sharing a knowing look. Oh yes, that likely was part of the reason, but they both knew it was not the entirety.

Phares took a sip of tea, as if they were not in potentially mortal peril not five minutes ago. “In any case, permit me to share my own curious findings I’ve been meaning to before I announce the same to our sibling in question, obtained thanks to the Lightwyrm and Nedrick…”

---

#scaling the walls of a mystery #my writing #Lost Scales #ha. I'm keeping that one if I post any others.#In any case I hope someone might enjoy seeing the 'what ifs' of Scaling!#The story has shifted trajectory from this but elements do remain that have not quite emerged. Make of that what you will!#Even if the section isn't 'canon' some of the headcanon still is.#Like in this case Leo's and Chelle's flight to their cities for winter is my explanation of how they split their time/duties #(It's my way of stealthily patching the incongruity with the mention that Leo and Chelle aren't normally around in the epilogue!)

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kellyurban18 · 1 year

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Chapter Thirteen

A/N: This chapter is almost 11k words which may not seem like a lot to us avid readers, but I have been actively trying to keep my chapters short for those busy people trying to read a quick chapter. This is not a short chapter! This is also the last chapter James is going ot actively comment about Sirius, Remus, and Harry together. Henry has trained him well, he has learned his lesson, he is staying silent.This is also the last chapter Lily is actively "bad". You are going to HATE HER, but she gets better after this chapter.Lastly.The scene with Sirius and Harry and his leg was written in my very first draft of this story in a notebook I wrote in during classes. This was written before a certain song came out, so don't be coming for me in the comments. That is all. Have fun reading.

-Day One- Wednesday-

Sirius woke up first which he was immediately grateful about considering the pillow did absolutely little to stop him from reaching his arm and touching Harry’s bare waist. Harry was sleeping facing Sirius, his left leg thrown over the long pillow and his pant leg rose up past his knee. At first Sirius didn’t even register it, but then he was sitting up and rubbing his eyes and that’s when he noticed it.

He had seen the scars last night on Harry’s waist, Remus had even told him they were there and he had a lot of practice of pretending scars don’t exist, but the ones on Harry were more gruesome. Again Remus had told him, but Remus also liked to exaggerate when it came to scars, especially his own so Sirius had assumed that’s what he did with Harry’s. He didn’t.

They weren’t gross by any means, they were actually pretty wicked, but it was his entire leg with indented scars clearly made by a claw. The one on his waist was almost clean cut compared to the ones on his leg which was anything except clean cut. Sirius didn’t know why he thought Harry just had one long claw mark down to his ankle, he knew that’s not how werewolf attacks are like, but in his head that’s just what he had pictured. It was not that at all, it was multiple deep scars, some long, some short, some didn’t indent as deep as the others. Looking away Sirius grabbed the bundled up covers and covered Harry up again watching as he breathed in deeply then relaxed with a soft growl in his chest.

“Knock knock.” Sirius turned just in time as the door opened and Henry poked his head in with a grin, “Oh good you’re awake. I already got breakfast arriving here soon so get dressed, here I had a house elf get a bag of your clothes for you when it was safe to do so. The spell says Remus is sleeping right now, but his rut is in full swing so it’s best you don’t go in there.” Sirius nodded, catching the bag he had tossed into the room so it didn’t hit the floor and wake Harry.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Harry still has a few hours before I need to wake up so James said if you need to you can shower in his room.”

“Showered last night.” Henry nodded, then frowned as he looked at the bed.

“Is that a pillow between the two of you?”

“Harry’s idea.”

“Harry’s idea or were you so uncomfortable he did it for you?” Sirius blushed, making Henry laugh, “Yeah I have no idea why James is so worried about you three being alone when you’re the one blushing like a virgin over sharing a bed.” With that Henry closed the door behind him and Sirius got out of bed going to the ensuite to get ready for the day.

When he left the bathroom he found Harry still sleeping so he made sure to be as quick and quiet as possible as he left the room avoiding looking in whatever direction James was in.

“Good morning Pads.” James said

“Morning.” Sirius replied stiffly as he made himself some tea

“I feel like I’m parenting a stubborn eight year old all over again.” Henry said rubbing his forehead with one hand, “James nothing happened last night, Sirius James is not a basilisk he can not kill you if you look at him.” Sirius looked up at James and grimaced at the stare he was giving him.

“Anyway…how's Lily? Are you telling her Harry is here for a week?” Sirius asked moving to sit in a chair since James and Henry were sitting on the couch together.

“I will either tell her or one of the kids and have them tell her whoever I see first. Tomorrow we meet with the lawyer again to go over the final copy of the divorce papers.”

“Sounds fun.” SIrius said, smirking at James’ light glare.

“Just be glad yours was easy. Mine and Matteo’s divorce was drawn out.”

“Really? Harry made it seem like he didn’t even know about it until it was done.” James said turning to Henry

“Well Harry was away at school when the first issue came up then when he came home we were going to tell him, but a few days into break Matteo had to go on a work trip and Harry presented as an Omega and it just didn’t happen. So then Harry went back to school and when he came back Matteo was all moved out. I was under the impression he had spoken to Harry before then like he had agreed on, but he didn’t so when Harry came home asking where Matteo was I had to tell him that we had ended things and gotten a divorce, but Matteo promised to see him for the holidays.”

“Did he?” James asked

“No, he never saw him. Harry stayed up all day and night for two days straight waiting by the fireplace, slept on the couch for a week. Then he went to his room and didn't come down for two days and when he finally did acted like everything was fine. No matter how much I tried to talk to him about it he didn’t want to. Still doesn’t.”

“I dare not touch the subject. I’m still trying to make him like me.” James said making Henry laugh

“He likes you, he just thinks you treat him like a child and he’s trying to establish that he isn't one. And I think he had it in his head that every parent parented like I did or maybe he thought something else I don’t know he didn’t really tell me what he thought when he was going to meet you. But I do know that when it comes to Harry you have to take him at his word. You really do he doesn’t like to be doubted. When he says he’s going to do or not do something he means it. So like the whole sex thing, he is not going to have sex until he’s seventeen. You just have to trust that.”

“He said graduation.” James said

“That’s because in his head he is seventeen. We have celebrated March 17th for ten years, that’s not going to go away.”

“It’s not him I don’t trust.” James tried which made Sirius look at him, “No it’s not- I trust you guys obviously but- I don’t know. It’s like the moment you’re together I realize what it means and- I know you and Remus have sex that’s the thing. I’ve heard it and seen it. WIth Charlie I can pretend they haven’t and won’t but you two I can’t and now it’s going to be with Harry.”

“James when Harry is ready for sex not only will I know ahead of time, way before Sirius and Remus even know, you will know too, but only if you prove to Harry you can talk about it without jumping down someone’s throat. Harry likes to talk, he likes to communicate way more than any teeanger or even adult likes. Harry wants to talk about everything, believe me, there hasn’t been a topic we haven’t discussed before, but he won’t do that if he doesn’t feel like he can. You will be the last to know everything that happens in his life if you don’t let up.”

“I know that. I am trying, but Sirius threw me off yesterday then you went and made them sleep together.”

“And nothing happened. See? You had nothing to worry about.”

“I’m not winning this argument am I?” James asked, Henry shook his head as he stood up, “Fine.”

“Fine? Just like that? Remus and I have been saying the exact same thing for almost a month now and you’re telling me all it took was for Henry to say it once and you just give in? Just like that?”

“I’m very persuasive, Sirius.” Henry said, “Now I believe you two have classes to teach in less than thirty minutes. Best to get to your classrooms don’t you think?”

“You are very bossy.” James said standing up as well and grabbing his papers, “Coming Sirius?” Sirius looked over at the two closed bedroom doors.

“Go, they both will be fine. I’ll be here until one of you kicks me out or Harry leaves or I’m needed elsewhere.” Sirius nodded following James out to the hall

“Nothing happened or is going to happen anytime soon.” Sirius told him

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Merlin knows how I’d react if I were in your shoes. I’d probably castrated you last night.”

“It crossed my mind.” James joked shoving his side into Sirius’, “But despite everything I really do trust you and Moony. Far more than I let show when you’re all together.”

“I know you do and so does Moony. We’re just trying to make everyone happy and it’s not really working out for us.”

“Don’t worry about me Sirius. Really. I’ll be fine, you and Remus just focus on Harry. I’ll come to accept it the more I see you three together not holding back for my sake.” James said, “That’s not permission to just sling your arm around him and hold him against your side though. Let’s build up to that.” Sirius laughed do exactly that to James

“I love you Jamie.”

“I love you too.” James said, “Well actually since we’re alone I need to ask you something.”

“Yes. I will leave my husband and mates for you Jamie. One thousand times yes.” James laughed, shoving his arm off his shoulders turning to look at a grinning Sirius “I’ve been waiting for over twenty years for you to ask me that.”

“You’re a dick. No, I really do want to ask you something.”

“Fine. Ask away.” James looked around then turned to Sirius again.

“Hypothetically if a straight man found another man…attractive…that wouldn’t like.. immediately mean he’s gay…or bi…or anything…right?”

“Oh…a serious question. Okay. Well…firstly no. Just finding anyone attractive doesn’t mean anything about sexuality or personal preferences. Some people think they’re straight, but they’re really Demisexual which just means they need to have an emotional connection to someone to really feel attracted to them. They can find them physically appealing and attractive, but the sexual aspect doesn’t really come until they feel connected to them. So for example if this hypothetical straight person was finding a man attractive because not only do they share a son together, but because they are getting to know each other better and exchange owls on occasional for more than just talking about the son they share-”

“Okay Sirius. I get it, I'm not subtle.” Sirius laughed

“It’s perfectly normal to just not know until you meet someone who makes you question yourself.” Sirius told him sincerely, “And it’s perfectly normal to want to explore what may or may not be happening between you and Henry. Though you should make sure you actually like him and not just because he is obviously great with Harry and has a relationship with him that you don’t yet. You may also want to make sure Harry is okay with it, he already lost one father figure he may not want to lose another due to a breakup. Or he may see this as an unhealthy way to keep you both in his life.”

“Get that from your six months of therapy school?” James joked

“I kept the books and stop turning this into a joke, that's my thing. I mean it James it’s normal alright? It doesn’t make you one thing or another thing. It just means you have a little more of yourself to learn about. You will still be James Potter, my best friend, father to three amazing kids, Quidditch co-captain, and the man who faced Voldemort four times and lived to tell about it, the man who-”

“Alright stop buttering me up I already promised Henry I wouldn’t castrate you this week.” James said, stopping at his office door, “Thanks.”

“Anytime and if you have any more questions you know I’m here.” James nodded then walked into his office and Sirius walked a few doors down to his own office.

*******

Harry left the small room Dumbledore had allowed them to use, apparently his Papa had covered all the bases in the short few hours he had. He hadn’t seen him that morning so hadn’t been able to talk to him about it all, but he would be sure to thank him when he saw him. It also gave him the opportunity to meet the esteemed Dumbledore again, something he hadn’t been able to do with everything else going on.

He had met him once when he was ten and being shown to different schools, but it wasn’t until after the tour and when Harry was looking forward to being part of his Papa’s old school that Dumbledore finally told them he didn’t allow anyone under 11 in no matter the circumstances. Papa hadn’t wanted to fight it in case the Ministry started poking its noses into other aspects of their life and so had accepted it and moved on.

There were many questions Harry wanted to ask the old man, but he didn’t yet as he wanted to wait a little longer, preferably when his family was away from Hogwarts, even temporarily

“Hello?” Harry said, knocking on the open door to the office staring at the person behind the desk. They looked up and looked at him for a second before standing up.

“Harry…hello…come in.” Lily said, smiling at him, “What brings you here?”

‘Just give her a chance, Harry.’ His papa’s voice rang in his head.

“Well I just felt bad that the first day we met I was having a bad day and may have taken it out on you unintentionally. I thought we could maybe try again?” Harry said hesitantly, but Lily smiled and nodded walking closer to him as she flatten down her robes.

“Yes of course. How about dinner? Tonight? Just you and me..Maybe Charlie too in Hogsmeade at five?”

“Sure. That’ll work. I’ll let you get back to grading, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tonight then.” Harry gave her a small smile then left. He headed back to the rooms and found his Papa there looking over a file of some kind, “I’m having dinner with Lily tonight. At five.” His papa looked at him and nodded slowly.

“That’s good. I’m glad you reached out. How was your NEWT?”

“It was fine. I only got stuck on a few problems, but I solved them all and I think I will at least have an E if not an O.”

“That’s good.”

“If I get anything below an E I’m blaming Remus and making him pay for a retest.” His papa laughed

“I’m sure he will consider that fair and happily do it. Though I know you well enough to know you won’t get anything below an E, you haven’t since fourth year after all.”

“James says she has a tendency to be late to things…how long do I wait?” His papa stiffened slightly then set his file down on the coffee table to look at him. He either heard the double meaning or saw it somewhere on Harry’s face because he gave Harry a small smile.

“Not this long cub. Never this long.” His Papa stood up and grabbed Harry's chin then pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead, “You don’t need anyone who makes you wait for more than thirty minutes without an excuse.” He whispered, pressing another kiss to Harry’s head, then he kneeled in front of him, “want to talk about it?”

“No.” Harry said softly

“Harry-” The door opened, interrupting whatever his Papa was going to say.

“Someone tell me why I decided teaching was a fun idea?” James said as he pulled off his outer robe and came into the sitting area, “hey everything okay?”

“Yeah I have homework.” Harry said standing up and escaping to his room before his Papa could stop him.

“I am so sorry…did I interrupt an important talk?” James asked, grimacing, making Henry chuckle as he stood up.

“No it’s okay Harry was about to close up anyway. You learn to pick your battles with him and emotional conversations are definitely a war. One you win by knowing when you retreat and when to strike again. He’ll talk when he’s ready. That I have no doubt. Even if it’s little pieces like that.” Henry told him

“Is he okay?’

“He told me he has dinner plans with your ex wife and apparently you told him she has a tendency to be late to things so he asked me how long he should wait for her but there was a double meaning behind his words. It’s fine. He’ll be okay.”

“Matteo.” James guessed getting a nod from Henry, “Are you sure you shouldn’t try to pry deeper into it?”

“Positive. Harry communicates about a lot, if he didn’t then I would pry, but he does communicate which tells me it’s just something he doesn’t have the words to say yet or he’s still feeling too much about it. Whatever it is he won’t talk until he’s ready, Trust me James if I was worried I would trap him until he talked.”

“Okay. I just worry.”

“I know so do I, but he’s okay. Now tell me why you hate teaching today while I make some tea.”

******

Harry sat across from Charlie at the table drumming his fingers lightly as he looked around again.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon.” Charlie said again, Harry nodded giving him a tight smile, “No really. She’s always late for something, but she’ll be here.”

“Okay.” Harry said, “So how are your classes?”

“They’re fine. I’m having trouble with astronomy, but I never really liked it.”

“I can help you study. I take Advanced Astronomy and Advanced Astrology.”

“Really? That would be great. You sure?”

“Yeah, anytime. Really. I love those classes.”

“Aren’t you super busy though?”

“No, I have time. I’ll be here all week anyway so just pick a time and place and I’ll be there. Promise.”

“Thanks Harry.”

Before they knew it they were ordering food and then dessert and then fighting over who was going to pay with Harry winning then they were leaving. Charlie ran into his friends when they reached the castle so it was only Harry who walked into the family rooms not surprised to see everyone in the sitting area waiting.

“How was dinner?” His Papa asked

“The roasted duck could have better spices. It tasted bland, honestly, The potatoes were flavorful, but lacking a little something too. But the steamed vegetables were great and the chocolate cake was to die for. So…a solid three out five.” Harry said, with a shrug as he pulled off his outer robe.

“Noted, but I was asking more about the company.” His Papa said playing along

“Ah. Well Charlie is a great conversationalist though it’s very..I wanna say….immature at times. Though he did make up for it by asking a lot of questions and looking interested in the topics we discussed. Though at one point he looked almost ready to cry when potions were brought up so that died rather quickly. So….a solid three point five out five, but there's always room for improvement.”

“She didn’t show up did she?”

“Nope.” Harry said, opening the wine cabinet and pulling out a red looking at the label as he pulled down a wine glass, “Cabernet. Fancy.” Harry said uncorking it

“What do you think you are doing?” James asked

“James, I will drink this entire bottle right in front of you just to make a point. I’ll regret it in the morning, but I will do it.” James wisely stopped talking after Henry elbowed him so Harry only poured himself one glass then everyone else a glass. He used his magic to float two glasses to James and his Papa, but carried Sirius’ glass to him where he was sitting on a chair with papers on his lap and side table.

“Thank you.” Sirius said, taking the glass, Harry smiled and sat on the arm of the chair to look at the papers.

“James and I will be right back.” His Papa said, grabbing James and pulling him to the bedroom.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” Sirius asked

“Not everything I do is to piss James off.” Harry told him, “You can’t tell me he doesn’t let Charlie drink wine on occasion.”

“No he does, but-”

“Exactly. I’m not doing anything my twin brother hasn’t done. Now scoot I want to sit beside you.” Sirius blushed much to Harry’s amusement, but he did scoot over in the chair enough to give Harry room to sit beside him instead of on the arm.

“I can enlarge it if you’d like?”

“Nope I’m good unless you need more elbow room.”

Sirius did need more elbow room , but he didn’t move to enlarge the chair or say that instead he just settled back into the chair with Harry. A few minutes later James and Henry came back out, James looked like he just got the lecture of a lifetime and his Papa looked like he did after he won an argument with Harry. Victorious, amused, and smug. Harry hated that look.

-Day Two-Thursday-

James stood in the doorway of Harry’s room staring at him as he studied whatever advanced class he was taking a NEWT on next. He knocked on the opened door drawing Harry’s attention from his book towards him.

“Oh hey you need something?” Harry asked, setting his quill down.

“I wanted to talk to you…about yesterday.” James said, stepping into the room, “more specifically about the dinner.”

“James, it's fine.” Harry said, releasing a breath as he pushed himself up onto his knees moving his hair from his face.

“It’s not fine and I’m sorry she did that. I’m not defending her, but Lily gets lost in her work sometimes especially when it’s about the potions she works on with Snape. She loses track of time and forgets her plans. I don’t know if that’s what happened yesterday, but it’s happened enough that I sort of just came to expect it after so many years,” James told him as he sat on the edge of the bed looking at Harry.

“James, really it’s fine. I think Charlie was more upset than I was. You should talk to him, not me.”

“Charlie doesn’t talk to me. He isn’t like you and maybe that’s my fault, but he doesn’t talk. Ariel does sometimes, but not always. Maybe I’ll sick Henry on them.” Harry laughed

“Papa has a way to make anyone talk. He just has that energy around him I think.”

“Yeah he’s…great. Raised you a lot better than I would have that’s for sure.”

“No you’d just have raised me differently. I’d probably be more social.”

“That’s definitely true. Anyway I am sorry about her. Just…do what you want, but just know she does plan on coming here one day and apologizing and making plans for a redo. You can say no or yes, I don’t care, but try to let her explain okay?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. So what are you working on?” James asked, laying down on his side with his elbow propped up and his head resting on his hand.

“Transfiguration essay. It’s the only core subject that I’m not actually good at. Well I have to work really hard for the E techincally.”

“Really? That was my best subject. Scoot I’ll help.”

“Good luck.” Harry said grinning as James laid beside him and looked at his book.

That’s how his Papa found them a few hours later, laying on their stomachs side by side going over his transfiguration essay.

-Day Three-Friday-

Harry had another NEWT that day, his Study of Ancient Magic NEWT that he was extremely confident about. After his NEWT he went to Sirius’ office not finding him there he went to his classroom not finding him in the room with the desk, but he did find him in the open room where Harry assumed the dueling practice happened.

“Finally found you.” Harry said smiling as he entered the room, Sirius looked up and spotted him.

“Oh hey Harry. You had a NEWT didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but it was easy. I’ve no doubt I passed.”

“That’s good. Did you need something or just came to say hi?”

“I wanted to ask if I could come to your Dueling Club meeting tonight. Charlie invited me a few weeks ago, but I wanted to run it by you. first”

“Oh yeah of course you can come. You can come anytime you want to. Open invitation. Ariel and Charlie will be there.”

“Okay good. I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Tonight.”

Later that night Harry walked into the room with Ariel beside him as she told him about her classes and what she had been up to for the past almost two weeks. Charlie looked excited and surprised to see him, coming over to stand with them.

“I was joking when I said you should come and mark your territory, you know.” Charlie said making Harry laugh

“That’s not why I’m here.” Harry told him, “Although by the number of girls here I think I should mark my territory. Or make Remus mark it for us when he’s done.”

“Yeah that’s what the girls need. A reminder that Sirius has sex. Remus accidentally marked Sirius the first year they taught here where they could see it and the girls giggled for weeks.”

“Oh great.” Harry grumbled folding his arms, making Charlie laugh.

“It’ll be fine you’ll see.”

Charlie was right of course…kind of. The girls who were bold enough to flirt only did it minimally and soon stopped when Sirius ignored their attempts. There were a few cheesy ‘wand placement mishaps’ but even that was more amusing and pitiful than anything. Then the duels began with partners and Harry declined Charlie and his friends' attempts to get him to participate.

“You don’t want to duel?” Sirius asked coming to stand beside him

“Nope. I just came here to scope out the competition.” Harry said

“The competition? You looking to go into Dueling Competitions after graduation?”

“No.”

“Then what competition were you-” Sirius blushed much to Harry’s amusement, “Alright don’t make me kick you out.”

“Charlie told me I should come to one of these because some girl kept unbuttoning her blouse around you or something.” Sirius chuckled shaking his head

“Rest assured not only are my students not my type, but neither are the young women who are determined to make me realize I am in fact straight and not at all in love with my husband. It’s never going to happen.”

“Oh good I’d hate to have to eat one of them. Humans don’t digest very well for our wolf.” Harry said grinning when Sirius turned to him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Harry said with an innocent shrug as he walked towards where Charlie and his friends were before Sirius could stop him.

The rest of the club meeting Harry spent with Charlie and his friends getting to know them though a little more especially since they both would be joining him and Neville in the summer since Neville understood and was okay with changing the plan this year.

Charlie’s friends weren’t horrible, they were loud and a little not his type of people, but they weren’t terrible. Harry thought he’d be able to survive them if he was given enough space.

That night Sirius kept staring at him as if waiting for him to puke up a Human which was very amusing.

“Will you stop Sirius. I have never eaten someone. It was a joke.” Harry said laughing

“Promise?”

‘I swear.”

“Okay. Good. Goodnight Harry.”

‘Goodnight Sirius.” Harry said amused, rolling his eyes as he rolled onto his side and fell asleep after Sirius’ breathing evened out.

-Day Four- Saturday-

“Hey you okay in here?” Harry stuck his thumb up high enough for Sirius to see, but didn’t move anymore than that as he buried himself back under the covers, “Don’t tell me you’re getting sick now?”

“No, I'm fine.” Harry said moving to poke his head out of the covers to look at him though without his glasses he was more of a blurry figure at the distance he was at than anything, “Is my Papa awake?”

“He and James left early this morning. Something about your sixth birthday pictures.” Harry groaned not just because his Papa was showing those pictures, but also because he wasn’t here, “You know I helped raise Charlie and Ariel, dealt with tons of illnesses and vomiting. One time Ariel came into our bed in the middle of the night and puked on our faces. In her sleep. So then I puked and then Remus had to deal with two puking people at three in the morning.” Harry laughed as he pulled the covers down to around his neck instead of over his head.

“I’m not sick. My leg is just tight so it’s hard to bend or move or walk really and every time I do move it, it hurts. It happens sometimes.” Harry told him Sirius pushed off the door frame and came closer to the bed, “I’ll be fine, I just need to prepare myself for a world of pain once I get the motivation to move.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Sirius asked

“You can grab my wand that is a foot away from me on the nightstand.” Harry said, Sirius rolled his eyes, but did in fact grab his wand for him and set it beside him then he sat on the edge of the bed so Harry’s back faced him.

“Anything else? Want me to fluff your pillow? Tuck you in? Read you a story?”

“Given the situation I really didn’t think you’d want to explore the Daddy Kink.”

“Don’t make me vomit on you Harry.” Harry grinned

“No, I'm okay. I’ll just be immobile until I brave the pain.” Sirius pressed his lips together as he stared at him.

“Roll onto your back.” Harry turned to him with a frown, but sighed and conceded when Sirius only stared at him.

“Why am I - ow- moving onto my back?” Harry asked, wincing slightly when he had to bend his leg a little to get into a comfortable position. Sirius grabbed his left leg and set it on his lap then he pushed the pant leg up as high as it would go, “What are you doing?” He asked

“I used to do this with Remus whenever he got new scars and with his old ones.” Sirius told him using his wand to summon a black bag, “The only time I was interested in Potions and really applied myself was when I was making these.” He pulled out a clear cup with blue liquid in it.

“Paint?” Harry asked, “You applied yourself to make paint?”

“Heating Paint with Muscle relaxer and pain reliever infused into it. I would sit in the infirmary bed while he laid down however it was comfortable and I would paint on his new scars to help him sleep better.” Sirius told him as he set the multiple cups of various colors on a tray.

“Go for it.” Harry said amused as watched Sirius pull his hair into a messy bun then he wet a paint brush and dipped it into a dark blue, almost black, “That’s cold!” Harry shouted, jerking his leg away, grimacing when he did.

“Relax, it heats up gradually. Just lay your leg down.” Sirius said, pulling his leg back down, “It’ll heat up.”

“Harry narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything as Sirius seemed to concentrate as he ran the brush over one of the deeper scars, it was jagged and one of the longer ones that ran from just above his knee down to his ankle. The tip of Sirius’ tongue stuck out a little as he ran another stroke beside the previous,. The paint was starting to heat up a little, but only after it hit his skin and he could almost feel the other potions starting to work as well.

“You did this for Remus?”

“I did. It started off mostly because well he was in pain obviously, but he also didn’t like his scars. He hated them. So I painted over them, I was terrible at it ,still am mind you, this is not going to be a masterpiece. But eventually Remus accepted his scars as much as I did. He stopped focusing on them as much.”

“Well I don’t mind my scars, not really. I guess the way I grew up they were more of a normal thing to have. My Papa has scars, my uncle Frankie has scars, the pack has scars. It was normal.”

“Everytime I try to get Remus to contact other werewolves he shuts down, he doesn’t want us to associate with other werewolves.”

“That’s because of his father isn’t it?” Sirius looked at him, “What? Lyall Lupin has visited pack territories ever since I could remember, he is not shy to tell us we are monsters. Even me. He looked me in the face when I was six years old and said I would grow up and eat my Papa one Full Moon just because he saw I had a limp around the Full Moon.”

“He said that to you?” Sirius asked shocked

“It’s fine. I cried, but that’s about it. Papa and Uncle Frankie reassured me that what he said was not true and I eventually got over it.”

“Lyall hates every werewolf except his own son, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t influence his son’s way of thinking.”

“I heard that a few Alphas offered to take him and raise him in a pack.”

“I wouldn’t know and Remus probably doesn’t even know about it.”

“I’ll take you to the Pack Territory one day. I think you’d like it.”

“Good luck convincing Remus.”

“Do not underestimate the power an Omega has over their Alpha. Everyone thinks the Alpha is the dominant one, but really it’s the omega. We have the alpha eating from our fingertips with just one little please. Alphas are more there to keep the Omega in line than anything.”

“Oh really?” Sirius asked with a laugh as he got to his knee, Harry shifted a little, stiffening as the brush strokes got closer to his kneecap.

“Yeah. But don’t tell any Alpha I said that.”

“Deal.” His brush finally brushed gently over the more ragged scars over his knee letting Harry relax a little, “It’s hard sometimes remembering Moony is an Alpha. I always picture Alphas to be the stereotypical asshole guys, but Remus is the opposite.”

“Most Alphas are the complete opposite, just like how most Omegas aren’t actually attached to the side of their Alpha and look at them adoringly the minute they meet.”

“I don’t know….pretty sure I caught you staring at Moony with heart eyes within two seconds.” Harry laughed as Sirius grinned at him, obviously joking.

“It’s the married part. I always dreamed of becoming a homewrecker when I was younger.” Sirius snorted, shaking his head.

“You’re not a homewrecker. We always knew someone was out there. We were always prepared to run into them whenever we left the house, we just never thought it’d be you. I was always scared of the unknown and by extension, our omega mate. I didn't know who they were, how old, where they were, would we upend their life as much as they would ours? I hated it. Once I got over the essential shock of Remus telling me the first emotion was relief. You being who you are, James’ son, my godson, the twin brother to a boy I helped raise. None of it mattered or even crossed my mind honestly, not until later. Those first few minutes, hell first few hours, I was relieved and I was excited because we knew and I didn’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“What were you worried about the most?”

“That Remus would meet the omega while he was out alone one day and leave me for him. It was irrational, I knew it every time I thought it, but I couldn’t help it. Everytime we went out to the Dragon's Cafe, every time he went out for a new book he wanted, everytime he went to go do whatever it was he wanted to do and I stayed behind I thought he’d come home a different person. He’d either tell me outright he didn’t want me anymore or he’d leave in the middle of the night with or without a note as his only goodbye.”

“That must have sucked.”

“It did, but again, I knew even while I was thinking it that it was irrational. I was overreacting and letting my abandonment issues get the best of me. I think Remus knew a little bit, or maybe he just knew I didn’t like him going out without me, he always brought home something for me. It took a few years for him to feel comfortable spending my money, but I finally told him if he didn’t spend it I’d do it for the both of us and trust me Harry we did not want that when I was in my twenties.” Harry laughed, grinning, “That finally got him to do it.”

“That bad were you?”

“Let’s put it this way. Yours and Charlie’s first birthday, I bought you both your very first toddlers broom. Top of the line, new release. I also bought you both a kiddie quidditch set and customized leather jackets that said Padfoot’s Pals on the back for when I took you on the motorcycle. Made a pretty nice dent I must say.”

Harry smiled softly as he looked up at the ceiling feeling the brushstrokes go up to his thighs now.

“What was your second most worry?” Harry asked a few minutes later.

“Um…I don’t know. That one was the one that always stuck with me. I guess if I had to pick it’d be that the omega would be the type of person who would do everything in their power to keep Remus to himself as much as he could. Like shut me out a little.”

“Talk about abandonment issues.” Sirius laughed, nodding, “Geesh and I thought I had issues.”

“What did you think about?” Sirius asked

“Older. They had to be older. That was like a must, it wasn’t optional.”

“Confronting those daddy issues head on were you?” Harry laughed nodding.

“Absolutely.” Harry giggled, “I was going to make one daddy love me, it didn't matter who it was at that point.” Harry grinned before sobering a little, “No I just didn’t picture myself with someone my own age I guess. I was never very social, so picturing myself with someone who had a lot of friends who went out every weekend to have a good time honestly sounded like torture.”

“Not every weekend, but Remus and I try to go out at least once a month. Usually something small, but occasionally we’ll go to a pub or a Quidditch game or something muggle. We went to a footie game once or twice.”

“Matteo was a big Footie fan. He’d kick the ball with me whenever I wanted and he took me to a few games when I was younger. He was raised in the muggle world despite both of his parents being magical. His father was from Italy, he was fun, his mother was from here, but was always busy doing one thing or another. I didn’t see her much.”

“Did they stop talking to you?”

“Not at first, but slowly their owls became less frequent. Every now and again I’ll get a letter asking how I am, but I haven’t seen them in almost two years. There was some excuse or another around the holidays or birthdays.”

Sirius cleaned his brush then switched it out for a thinner one and dipped it in white.

“Henry said it’s one of the things you don’t talk to him about.”

“There’s nothing to say and if you dare paint a full moon on my leg I’ll cut your hair in your sleep.”

“I’m not painting a full moon.”

“You're painting the dog constellation aren’t you?” Sirius laughed and Harry looked down and sure enough Sirius was putting little dots on his leg, “Of course you are. A dog always has to mark his territory.”

“It’s the only thing I know how to paint well. I painted it on Remus all the time, it was the only thing he allowed me to paint after a while actually.”

“Because it was your way of claiming him. Even if it was temporary. Your magic reacts to everything you do even if you don’t completely feel it. You’re painting something that represents you, so your magic is sort of intertwining with the paint. It’s brushing against our bond almost similar in a way wolf mates would brush against it when scenting their mate or something similar. It’s the closest thing you’ll be able to come to claiming us until we bond completely.”

“Really? Remus never told me that.”

“He was probably worried about scaring you off. Some humans are scared of the mating bond, he probably worried about your reaction if you knew you were marking him as yours. Has he ever scented you or anything?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Oh you’d know. You wouldn’t be able to miss it.”

“He’s marked me certainly, but-”

“No this would be different than giving you a love mark on your neck in the heat of the moment. It has to be international. Like you’re doing right now is intentional and sort of planned. You knew what you were going to do before you did. Scenting or Marking your mate can’t be done accidentally.”

“Is it bad that he hasn’t?” Sirius asked looking at him

“No, of course not. It’s just…not common, but Omegas are known to mark or scent more often than Alphas.” Sirius nodded before going back to his painting, Harry hadn’t even noticed when his leg relaxed and he had become used to the heat sinking into his leg. He looked down at it and chuckled seeing Sirius’ tongue sticking out again as he concentrated connecting two dots, “How’s that working out for you anyway? With all the dips with loss of fat.”

“You let me worry about the dips, you just focus on the benefits.”

“I think I can bend it now without wanting to cry.”

“See? Told you it works. Took me ten tries to make everything work together properly, but I eventually got it. I missed this actually, It sort of just died down with the Wolfsbane Potion.”

“Well you can paint mine anytime. Try some dog flowers next time use the scars as the stem.”

“Sure.” Sirius said with a grin.

The next few minutes passed in silence as Sirius finished up his painting then he kept his leg on his lap letting him keep it on for as long as wanted.

“It doesn’t dry?” Harry asked a few hours later when he entered the bathroom where Sirius was drawing him a hot bath.

“It doesn’t stay completely wet, but no it doesn’t dry either. It makes it easier to clean up.” Sirius told him, Harry nodded going over to sit on the edge of the sunken tub watching as hot water filled it.

“Wanna join me?” Harry asked making Sirius laugh

“Nice try, not only would I be murdered, I would also be burned alive. I have learned my lesson to never share a bath or shower with a werewolf when they want it hot to soothe their muscles. My hot and their hot are completely different.”

“Chicken.” Harry said grinning before he looked at Sirius as he watched the water fill up as if it required his entire concentration, “Thank you.”

Sirius turned to him wide eyed then he smiled at him, Sirius’ cheeks turning a little pink as he shrugged, scrunching his nose a little.

“It was nothing.”

“It was not nothing.” Harry said frowning, “You spent like four hours with my leg on your lap doing nothing, but sitting there and talking with me about whatever came up. It meant a lot, honestly.”

“You’re welcome.” Sirius said turning red before he looked away for a moment, “Anytime you need me, for anything, I’ll be there. Even if it’s just to sit with you and paint your leg again. I had fun.”

“For the bath too.”

“Anytime.” Sirius said again before he tapped the side of the bath before standing up, “I’m going to leave and clean up, yell if you need me.”

“Okay.”

Sirius gave him a smile before he was leaving the bathroom leaving Harry alone to get undressed and climb into the steaming bath water. Harry was sad to see the paint wash off his leg so easily. He could hear Sirius moving around in the other room, but other than that it was silent. If he concentrated hard enough he could faintly smell Remus in the other room, but it wasn’t strong.

The rest of the day was spent in bed as they both worked on their separate things. Harry had his classwork and Sirius had papers to grade and lessons to plan. When James and his Papa came back, James poked his head in, clearly wondering why they were in bed, but he didn’t say anything as he grinned at them before leaving the room again.

Sunday Harry spent the day with his brother and sister then Monday and Tuesday was spent studying for his next NEWT test and doing his classwork. Tuesday night Harry noticed Sirius was acting strange.

‘Everything okay?’ Harry asked eyeing Sirius

‘Yeah of course…so..Remus is going to be done tomorrow right?”

“He’s probably done now, but his pheromones haven’t left his body yet. So probably around two or three in the morning he’ll be back to his normal shelf. He’ll probably shower then be so exhausted he’ll go back to sleep, but yes he should be fine by lunch.”

“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“I don’t have to. I’m top of my class and ahead of most of them. My professors accommodate all of the students who have the grades for it. I have a classmate who only comes in once a month. I can stay longer.” Sirius nodded as he pulled back the covers, “I can stay until my heat, maybe spend the full moon with you guys depending how close I am to it by then.”

‘Yeah that might be fun. James would love it, but Moony might be hesitant.”

“I’ll warm Remus up to the idea.” Harry folded back his side of the covers not commenting on the lack of the pillow between them tonight. Sirius had made it a point every night to put it there except, apparently, tonight.

“Goodnight.” Sirius said

“Goodnight.”

Harry lay awake long after Sirius fell into a restless sleep, he kept tossing and turning in his sleep when usually Sirius slept in one position all night. By eleven Harry was debating whether or not to tie Sirius to the bed to keep him from moving again. By one Harry was contemplating if Azkaban was really that terrible. By two Harry was staring at his wand on the nightstand longingly. By two fifteen Harry rolled onto his side glaring at Sirius’ back. By two thirty he had an arm around Sirius’ waist and his left leg atop of SIrius’ legs, his chest pressed against Sirius’ back as he let his growling soothe him into a more peaceful sleep. His scent filled Harry’s nose as he pressed his face to his back, Sirius’s entire body sunk into the mattress so Harry stayed there closing his eyes and falling asleep as well.

Harry was only asleep for a few hours from what he could tell when he woke up again. It wasn’t from Sirius, but instead from voices drifting into the room despite the charms in place that kept most sounds from entering other rooms.

“He shouldn’t be in there!” A voice that sounded like Remus drifted into the room. Sirius shifted in his sleep so Harry tightened his arm around him feeling him relax again.

“-are fine. -slept there all week. -to sleep Remus.” His Papa’s voice drifted in and out of the room

“-check on him.”

“No- wake Harry.”

Harry slowly climbed out of bed then grabbed a warm robe and wrapped it around him as he opened his bedroom door and poked his head out. His Papa, James, and Remus were all out in the living room facing each other. Remus looked exhausted, but very determined while James looked torn and his Papa Harry knew that look. His Papa would stand there all night long to make sure Remus didn’t do anything he didn’t agree with.

“Great. See told you we’ll wake up.” His Papa said looking irritated as he folded his arms.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. Is Sirius awake too?”

“No he’s still asleep, but he’s been restless all night. I almost murdered him honestly.” Harry said, closing the door behind him as he walked into the living room.

“I’ll wake him and take him back to our room so you can sleep.” Remus said but Harry blocked his path.

“Remus, he's fine. Let him sleep, he still has to teach in the morning and you look exhausted. We have to be sure all of your new pheromones settle before you can be alone with him again. You may be out of your Rut, but you now have new pheromones and hormones that you need to get used to. You also have a permanent fixture that you’ll need to get to know so you don’t hurt him.”

“I’m fine.” Remus insisted his eyes not leaving the closed door.

“You are not fine.” Harry said gently pushing Remus onto the couch and sitting beside him so he had to break his stare on the door.

“I-”

“Look I know you haven’t slept away from your mate in years, your Rut not counting, you can join us in my bed if you want, but you are not sleeping with him alone tonight. Not right now anyway.”

Remus hesitated, moving back against the couch to look at the closed door then he looked at him.

“Come on. Let’s go to sleep together. He’ll sleep better I think anyway. We can put him in the middle.”

Remus nodded, letting Harry grab his hand and led him to the bedroom, he turned back to his Papa and James and gave them a tight smile before he gently pushed Remus into the room. Sirius had turned in his sleep since Harry had left, his back was now facing the door and he had moved closer to the middle, his nose slightly buried into Harry’s pillow. Remus immediately moved to the bed and laid behind Sirius wrapping himself around him like Harry had been and taking in his scent.

“I missed you, Pads.” Remus whispered, pressing a kiss to Sirius’ bare shoulder up his neck and stopping at his cheek. Harry walked around the bed and laid on his side of the bed pulling the covers over Remus first then himself.

“Now go to sleep.” Harry whispered, Remus nodded still buried into Sirius’ neck, his eyes closed, but he was awake. It was normal for an Alpha and Omega to miss their mates after a Heat or Rut even if they were spent together.

“I didn’t do anything right?” Remus asked softly

“Besides walking through my school with your wand practically on display for anyone in the halls? No. You were still in the phase of wanting to scent us and mark us only a little bit of sex obsessed. You were easy to get rid of promise.”

“Good. I only remember going to the bed with him then it’s hazy.”

“I’m sorry. I should have warned you better.”

‘No. I read the books. I just didn’t connect the hints until it was too late and by then I didn’t really have control.”

“Go to sleep. You’ll be okay. You’ll be aroused more easily for a few weeks, take it slow at sex for a while especially in the beginning until you can recognize your knot forming. You’ll have to control both yourself and Sirius, he’ll probably try to push himself. It’ll be fine though, you’ll know when to stop yourself and him, but you want to get in the habit of recognizing it yourself just in case.”

Remus nodded, tightening his arm around Sirius’ waist.

“He hasn’t been a terrible bed partner for you has he?”

“No. Tonight he wasn’t only so restless because I think he was worried about you coming out of your rut.” Remus nodded then kissed Sirius’ shoulder again before he relaxed on the mattress, “Night.”

“Goodnight Harry.”

Harry rolled onto his side and pulled the covers closed to his body as he closed his eyes.

The next time Harry woke up it was another few hours later and it was because of the soft voices filling the air.

“No we usually kept a pillow between us, I guess we forgot it last night.” Sirius whispered, sounding amused about something. Harry shifted slightly, rubbing his head against his pillow only then realizing it wasn’t his pillow at all rather a hard..something. Then suddenly fingertips were rubbing his side gently.

“It’s only natural that without a barrier he seeks out a mate to cuddle. You just happen to be the one in the middle.” Harry patted around until he found Remus’ mouth then he covered it with his hand.

‘Shhhhhh.. Let me enjoy this a little longer.” Harry said as he snuggled more deeply into Sirius’ side trying to get as small and entwined as possible. Sirius laughed as he hugged him tightly.

‘My arm is asleep.” Sirius told him

“So am I now shut up.” Harry said, moving his hand from Remus to cover Sirius’ mouth., “Shhhh.”

“Sirius has to get up to teach classes soon.” Remus told him

“Screw ‘em.” Harry said

“You have a NEWT test today.” Harry laid there for a moment then he groaned miserably and rolled away from Sirius.

“Ruin all of my fun.” Harry grumbled.

“How have your other NEWTs gone?” Remus asked, Harry turned to look at him, noticing he still looked exhausted as he held his head up from his hand. Sirius was laying on his back, but Remus’ arm was around his waist. Harry figured he had been curled up to Sirius’ side before he rolled away.

“Have you slept yet?”

“No. I stayed up. I’ll sleep later.”

“Did I keep you up?” Harry asked

“No. You were fine. It was actually very soothing, I kept myself awake.” Harry nodded then turned to Sirius and laughed.

“Stayed awake doing that, were you?” Harry asked

“Doing what?” Sirius asked, touching his throat, “What did you do?” He asked looking at Remus before he was scrambling off the bed climbing over Harry then he ran to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, “GOD DAMN IT MOONY!”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Remus said standing up and going to stand behind Sirius as he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind him, “I’ll help cover it up, I promise.”

“You better.” Sirius said, still examining the large red mark on his neck, “Did you try to eat me or something? Fucks sake Moony.”

“I’m sorry.” Remus said again

“What’s the protocol when your mates are about to snog in your own bathroom? Does one watch or do they look away and pretend to be busy?” Harry asked, Sirius laughed as Remus turned to him trying to look more stern than amused.

“We are not about to snog.” Remus said releasing Sirius and entering the bedroom then he crawled into the bed and laid beside Harry on his stomach, “So what did you two do while I was...busy.”

“We didn’t really do anything. I had classes, Harry had school work and NEWTs, Saturday we spent the day in here since James and Henry were gone most of the day, Sunday Harry spent it with Charlie and Ariel, and the last two days Harry was busy.” Sirius told him as he came out of the bathroom and grabbed some of his robes that the house elves kept hanging up in the closet.

“That’s it? No wild adventures? No arrests? No outstanding warrants I need to know about?”

“Oh we had sex on Big Ben. Got arrested. Escaped. Got drunk. Blew each other in a shitty bathroom stall, You know the usual.” Harry said with a shrug, Sirius laughed as he went into the bathroom and closed the door enough that they couldn’t see inside of it, but left it open so he could still talk to them.

“Don’t forget about the hippogriff race we had.’

“Which naturally ended in kinky wild sex in the forest.”

‘Oh great I have two of you like this.” Remus complained though he was grinning as he hugged the pillow under his head, “You two are going to need bail money the first time we go drinking together I just know it,”

“That’s when you know you’ve had a good time Moony” Sirius said with a grin as he stepped out of the room as he finished buttoning his shirt, “I need to get breakfast in me and get to my classroom. Get some sleep Moonpie.” Sirius came over and pressed a kiss to Remus’ head.

“Mmm. Have fun.” Remus mumbled sleepily

“Good luck with your NEWT today Harry.”

‘Thanks. See you later.” Sirius gave him a small smile before he turned and left the room.

Harry slid out of bed a few minutes later and grabbed his own clothes and changed in the bathroom. He really had to get back on his schedule, Harry realized as he felt a small pain in his leg. The past week Harry had slept in and didn’t do as much stretches as he should have. When he left the bathroom Remus was hugging his pillow close to his face as he slept on Sirius’ pillow. Harry smiled softly as he pulled the covers over Remus’ sleeping body then he grabbed his things and left the room as well. Sirius was gone, but James and his Papa were still there.

“Hey, is he still asleep?” James asked

“He just went to sleep. Stayed awake all night.”

“That’s not unheard of.” His Papa said Harry nodded knowing that already, but he knew he said it for James’ sake.

“I have to study for my NEWT today and I thought I’d stay here until my Heat comes if that’s okay?” Harry said, James grinned nodding.

“Of course it’s okay. You can stay here for as long as you want to, you know that.”

“If that’s what you want to do. Just make sure you tell your professors. I’m staying one more night then I have to go to Scandinavia for at least a week. You’ll be okay without me if your heat comes before I'm back?”

“I’ll be okay. I’ll just go home and lock myself in my nest like usual.”

“Okay I’ll make sure there’s snacks and water bottles and everything else there you’ll need.”

“I really don’t need you to stock my lube drawer Papa. I can do it myself.” Harry said with a blush

“Fine, I'll stock your food and water then.”

“FIne. I’m going to go hide in the library until my NEWT, make sure he eats if he wakes up.” Harry said

“Okay. We will. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Harry said softly before he left the room.

After his NEWT Harry found Remus still asleep in the bedroom though it had apparently been a light sleep considering Remus woke up when Harry set his things on the desk in the corner.

“Sorry.” Harry said looking at him, Remus looked better though he still looked a little tired.

“No….it’s okay.” Remus mumbled rubbing his face with a hand, “How was your NEWTs? Today's and the past ones?” He asked laying his head down on the pillow again, but he stayed awake as he watched Harry.

“I took my International Wizardry NEWT so it went fine. I am confident in almost all of my questions I answered and the essay was actually on a topic I did a class essay on so it was pretty easy.”

“That’s good. What about the other ones?”

“My Arithmancy NEWT I took last week I told everyone that if I get less than an E on it I’m making you pay for a retest. Then my Study of Ancient Magic NEWT was relatively easy as well. I took that last Friday. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that I know I passed my Magical Creature Studies NEWT.”

“That’s good.” Harry went over with his Defense Against Magic book and laid on his stomach beside Remus, “What’s your next NEWT? You have four more this month right?”

“I have one Friday, Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday again. I wanted the last week of the month free for any rescheduling or for my heat whichever I need it for.”

“Smart. What’s Fridays?”

“Healing. It’s a sister class to Dueling. You can sleep some more, ruts and heats are hard on the body. I usually sleep an entire day after my heats.”

“Maybe I will. What time is it?”

“A little past two.” Remus hummed softly and a few minutes later he was back to sleep.

Later that night Harry had already turned in for bed and Sirius, Remus, and James were the only ones awake, Henry having left after Harry went to sleep.

“You ready to turn in then?” Remus asked noticing it was almost midnight

“Yeah I guess.” Sirius said, standing up from the couch and making his way to the bedroom.

“Um..Sirius?”

“Yeah?” He asked looking back at Remus

“Our bed,” Remus said, Sirius frowned then looked and noticed he was standing in front of Harry’s door.

“Oh.” Sirius said though he didn’t move, “We’re supposed to just…leave him alone now?” Sirius asked, frowning at his husband.

“Well…you can’t sleep in his bed forever Sirius.” Sirius raised a brow at him, “I meant- eventually we will but- James help me out here.”

“Not a chance. Henry has trained me all week to keep my mouth shut so that is exactly what I am doing. In fact I am going to bed myself so I am not tempted to say anything. You two go to sleep wherever I don’t want to know or else I’ll have very weird dreams. Goodnight.” As James spoke he had gotten up off his chair and headed straight to his bedroom, closing the door once he had finished speaking.

“Unbelievable.” Remus said softly, shaking his head before looking at Sirius.

“I don’t want to just leave him alone…it feels wrong.”

“It feels wrong sharing his bed.”

“Not to me.” Remus stood there for a moment then he sighed.

“Fine. I guess we can sleep together while he is here if and when he wants to. Let’s go get dressed at least.” Sirius nodded, grinning, heading to their room. After changing into some night clothes they went back to Harry’s room, Harry was asleep, facing the door but his arm was reached out across the bed as his nose brushed against the pillow Remus had used most of the day.

“Let me in the middle this time.” Remus whispered, Sirius didn’t question it as he stepped aside letting Remus slide into the bed moving Harry’s arm to lay across his waist then he opened his other arm for Sirius to lay into.

“See? So much better. You can’t tell me Moony isn’t ecstatic to have us both so close to you.”

“Go to sleep.” Sirius grinned as he settled into sleep.

Remus laid there for a while with Sirius curled into his right side and Harry curled into his left. His arms were around them both and eventually he too fell asleep with Harry’s soft growls feeling the room and his arm across his bare waist touching Sirius’ arm that was laid on Remus as well.

#TheTruthUntoldRewrite #sirius black x remus lupin #WolfstarxHarryPotter #alpha remus lupin #omega harry potter #work in progress #HarryPotter/SiriusBlack/RemusLupin #sirius x remus x harry

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movie-robotnik-positivity · 2 years

Video

youtube

Screenwriter of the Sonic movies, Pat Casey, was recently a part of “The GHZ Podcast”, where he answered some questions and gave good insight into the production of the sequel.

The video contains spoilers. Here are some of the highlights:

(12:59-14:21) A previous draft of the film had Angel Island, before they settled on just the Labyrinth Zone temple. Knuckles was going to take Robotnik to the island, which was slowly falling apart without the Master Emerald, to show him why he needed the gemstone.

(14:49-15:40) SEGA didn’t like the idea of using the Master Emerald to turn Super, since that’s not how it works in the games...but the team feared that, by making the story about collecting the Chaos Emeralds, people would call the movie an Avengers ripoff. The backstory with the Chaos Emeralds being part of the Master Emerald was created as a compromise.

(23:06-24:00) Crazy Carl was in several drafts, they just couldn’t make room for him. He was meant to appear when Sonic runs around Green Hills, to show he has a friendly relationship with some of the townspeople. Jojo was also going to interact with Tails.

(36:15-36:52) SEGA is very aprehensive about the movies exploring Sonic’s powers and where they came from, so they can’t be too explicit about that. However, Pat Casey feels that as these movies become more successful, SEGA will continue loosening the reigns on some stuff.

(39:42-40:56) Originally, they wanted to do a “Rocky III” ending with Sonic and Knuckles starting a friendly rematch to see who’s truly stronger, cutting to credits right as the fight starts.

(43:10-44:03) Popularity aside, they chose Shadow because he’s a good match for Sonic, very different personality-wise. Unlike with Knuckles, the “power of friendship” wouldn’t work with Shadow, and Sonic has never had to deal with someone as emotionally damaged (except Robotnik, who he dealt with by murdering him)

(45:58-46:15) The film was going to end with Knuckles leaving Earth to guard the Master Emerald alone...but they thought that was way too sad of an ending for the character.

(47:50-48:16) While Longclaw killing all the echidnas is certainly possible, it’s not downright confirmed that’s what happened to them. “Do we know for a fact that Longclaw is even dead?”

(48:35-49:43) They were going to show what Knuckles got into after losing his tribe. There was going to be a sequence based on Arnold Schwarzenegger’s “Conan the Barbarian”, with Knuckles getting captured and thrown into the fighting pits.

(51:11-51:34) They talked about showing a little flashback of Robotnik’s childhood, his time spent on an orphanage ran by nuns. It was deemed too pointless to include, sadly.

(51:50-53:12) Pat Casey loves Rouge the Bat and says she makes for a great movie character, charming yet seemingly untrustworthy, but with a heart of gold. He also agrees that the movies need more female anthros like Amy and Rouge.

(54:56- 56:05) The first Owl Temple was originally in an Ice Cap Zone inspired planet rather than Siberia, but they thought a human bar would be less restrictive than designing an alien cantina. Sonic and Tails were going to stumble upon a Big the Cat skeleton in the snow

(57:11-59:35) They don’t want to use a Sonic character in a way that’s not respectful or satisfying like some comic book movies do. That’s part of why the first movie only had Tails on the post-credits scene, and why the scrapped lizard warrior wasn’t a pre-established character.

(1:02:17-1:02:46) Pat Casey agrees the film needed more Sonic music. He admits that, had he been able to, he would have picked something other than “Downtown Funk” for the dance sequence.

(1:06:31-1:06:55) They were explicitly told not to name the planets, that mobius line in the novelization was probably just the writer having fun. However, he thinks they originally had the word “mobius” thrown around somewhere to serve as an easter egg for fans.

#sonic movie #sonic 2 #sonic movie 2 #pat casey #this took so long to write

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montrealmadison · 3 years

Text

drink deeply

or, as they say at samwell, “penitus potes.” shitty gives the toast at jack and bitty’s wedding. for @zimbitsweddingofficial and day two of zimbits wedding week: the wedding itself!

just for fun, a draft version of the beginning of this fic with lardo, ransom, and holster’s “helpful” edits can be found via google doc here. hope y’all enjoy! <3

Good evening, everyone! On behalf of Jack and Eric, thank you all so much for being here tonight, and welcome to what could very well be the most highly anticipated wedding reception of 2019. I mean, this party was planned by the likes of Suzanne Bittle and Alicia Zimmermann. We are in for a treat, folks.

Before we get to all that, I’d also like to extend a particular welcome to those in attendance who are part of the playing, coaching, and/or office staff of the Providence Falconers. Glad you could all make it this evening; I know this past week was a little bit busy for you guys.

[Insert appropriate pause and gesture to the punch bowl, which on closer inspection is actually—oh yeah—the Stanley Cup the Falcs won three days ago. Hold for inevitable applause, general hysteria, and/or hooting/hollering from Tater.]

For those of you who don’t know me, I’ve been trying to decide whether I should introduce myself by my first name, which will inevitably get me mocked by my friends until the end of time, or by my nickname, which will definitely scandalize anyone who has not spent a significant amount of time around twenty-year-old guys who play hockey. However, as I look around the room, I’m realizing that most of you probably either raised, spent significant time around, or were once a twenty-year-old guy who played hockey. To the rest of you, I am profoundly sorry.

So, hi! I’m Shitty, and I’m Jack’s best man.

read more below or on ao3

Being someone’s best man, as I’ve realized over the last few months, should really come with a playbook or an instruction manual or something, because it’s a task unlike any other you’ll ever take on. In addition to being a friend, you have to be a confidant, an expert at bachelor-party debauchery (I think my college resume definitely prepared me for this part) and someone who’s not afraid to step in to make last-minute decisions so the grooms don’t have to. You also have to do all of these things without getting fired from your job or stepping on anyone’s toes, up to and including: the couple getting married, the other people in the wedding party, the grooms’ parents, the wedding planner, and most importantly, Moomaw, whose word is law around here.

(Seriously. She made the pie tonight, people. Bow down to her.)

But as much as the role can feel a little bit like you’re being thrown in at the deep end, it also definitely comes with its perks. Tonight, I have both the honor and the challenge of somehow summarizing how much I love Jack and Eric in a speech that is heartfelt and witty yet also brief so that we can get to the aforementioned pie as quickly as possible. If you’re still following me here, that is a tall order—but here goes nothing!

I met Jack Zimmermann on our first day of freshman year at Samwell, during the bright, hot summer of 2011. I was participating in the time-honored tradition of moving into a dorm on the third floor of a building with no elevator and no air conditioning in the middle of August. It builds character, or so the good folks in Samwell administration probably tell themselves. Anyway, athletes got to move in early for preseason, so I was expecting to be one of the only guys on the floor for at least a couple days. I was just carrying the last box into my room when the door next to mine opened and—well, you can probably guess who walked out.

Now, I grew up in Boston, which means I also grew up around hockey culture. I’d heard the news that Jack was coming to Samwell, so I knew who he was when he stepped into the hall in that same vague way that you kind of-sort of recognize celebrities hustling down the street or through the airport with their sunglasses on. And he gave me that same vibe—“I know you know who I am, and I’d very much like not to be bothered about it.”

Here is something that will not shock you if you know us: Jack was the first friend I made in college. Here is something that might shock you if you know us: That definitely doesn’t mean we were friends at first. By his own admission, Jack wasn’t at Samwell to make friends at all. He told me, much later, that he was only planning to go to play hockey, get his life back on track, and keep his head down as much as possible.

So in retrospect, maybe it was an unlucky thing for Jack that he ran into the one person who wasn’t going to let him do that.

Because no matter who you are or where you’re from, freshman year of college breeds a unique kind of terror I’ve never felt anywhere else. There’s a lot of pressure to completely remake yourself, to become the person you maybe never could have been in your hometown. By coming to Samwell, I wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one that Andover had raised. Jack wanted to be a different kind of kid than the one he’d spent twenty years telling himself he had to be. As much as neither of us wanted to admit it, we both wanted similar things out of our college experience, and we needed a support system to do that. And so, however begrudging the two of us were about it at first, we started to bond more and more.

It wasn’t always easy. For one thing, my idea of a good time was a lot louder than Jack’s—who enjoyed such scintillating pursuits as “watching golf” and “going to bed at a reasonable hour”, neither of which were quite in my vocabulary at the ripe old age of eighteen. Also, if it’s before six in the morning, he has a hard time remembering to speak English, which used to make for a lot of stilted conversations between the two of us as we walked to early morning practice. (On a completely unrelated note, the first and probably only thing I ever learned in Québécois is how to swear.)

I don’t remember the exact tipping point at which Jack and I really became friends; I think it was more of a quiet acknowledgment that we liked having each other around, that we balanced each other out in ways that neither of us initially knew we needed. What I do know is that, slowly but surely, I started to get glimpses of the Jack that exists off the ice. And so began one of the most extraordinary journeys of my life, because the only thing crazier than knowing Jack Zimmermann is actually knowing Jack.

Here are some things that I’ve learned in the process: He’s on his third pair of neon yellow running shoes, which he buys specifically because the color makes him happy. Before either of us tried Eric’s pies, the only thing that could make him cheat on a meal plan was a sleeve of Double Stuf Oreos. (Don’t ask him how to eat them correctly unless you’re interested in a twenty-minute speech on exactly how they have to be pulled apart.) And he loves Captain America, although it is the opinion of this best man that America’s ass has nothing on his hockey butt. Have you seen that thing? It has Internet fans in at least two different countries.

But I digress.

In our sophomore year we lived next to each other again, by choice instead of by chance, in what I can only describe as the pinnacle of American college living: the Samwell Men’s Hockey Haus. We used to pull the comforter off of one of our beds and climb out onto the roof and clear off the snow so we could share the blanket, look up at the stars, and listen to the bass thumping through the wall of the house next door. On nights when other things felt confusing, this one part of my life was clear. There’s something about sitting out under the open sky that just makes it easier to talk to a guy, you know?

Some nights the conversations we had were funny. Some nights they were serious. Some nights we said nothing at all, just sat secure in the knowledge that someone cared enough to exist alongside us for a little while. There was always an unspoken agreement between us on nights like these: I got your back. For me, Jack’s friendship became a rock, a refuge. It’s something that I came to depend on that year and still do to this day.

As for the content of those late-night conversations—well, some things do have to stay between friends. I’m sure Jack will agree, especially because he has so graciously allowed me to get up here and lovingly roast him just a little bit.

So let’s skip ahead again, to yet another August, the start of our junior year, and the arrival on the scene of one Eric Bittle. This kid burst into our ranks like a ray of Southern sunshine and turned pretty much everything upside down in the process. In the first five minutes of being in the Haus, he somehow made us a pie? Folks, I'm not kidding, it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. We were a bunch of guys who didn’t know what we were missing until we had it, and let me tell you, it was one hell of a semester after that. In pretty short order we had curtains on the windows and baked goods on the counters, and Samwell Men’s Hockey started to become not only a team but a family.

That was off the ice, at least. On it, things were a little more complicated. As our dear friend and former goalie John Johnson said to me, Jack and Eric hadn’t gone through their character development yet—whatever that means.

Take our third or fourth practice with the full team that year, for example. It had gone… uh. Poorly, would be a word. Later that night I heard some rustling on the roof outside, and God knows I was willing to do just about anything but my homework—so I stuck my head out the window and there was Jack, watching the stars. I asked him if he wanted a buddy, and he said alright, so I slid out and sat down next to him.

That was pretty usual for us at this point. What wasn’t usual was the topic of conversation. The first thing Jack said to me was, “Bittle’s gonna get eaten alive when our schedule starts.” (Remember, people, they’re married now!) The second was, “I want to help.”

Here’s another thing about Jack: Underneath the veneer is a guy who just cares so intensely it’d shock you if you knew nothing else about him. It shocked me a little that day. I think it even shocked him to admit it, to the point where I had to say, “Jack, it’s not a criminal offense to care about other people. Even if it feels like you’re doing it for yourself.”

So he helped. He offered an olive branch, and Bits took him up on it. I’d hear the two of them get up in the morning, hours before the rest of us had to be at Faber, for checking practice. None of the rest of us ever knew exactly what went down, but one thing was for sure—Eric put in a ton of work to overcome some of the fears that had followed him to college. He got better, and Jack relaxed. The two of them really started working as a team, and things started looking up from there.

The day that they told us they were dating was pretty amazing. Eric is so full of light no matter how bleak a situation may look, but that day he was literally almost glowing. And I’ve seen Jack in moments after victory and loss, at his best and at his worst. But I’ve never seen a Jack who was so happy, possessed of such confidence in a decision he’d made, as I saw him that day at brunch. And that’s when I knew this relationship was really special.

From there, many of you know the story. You watched it play out on ESPN and social media and the front pages of every single gossip magazine on the supermarket shelves. But if you’re sitting here with us tonight, you also watched it play out between Jack and Eric themselves. You’ve watched them handle expectations as a united front. You’ve watched their unfailing dedication to each other while they navigate the pressure of being some pretty big firsts. You know that, behind the scenes, these are two incredibly genuine people who bring out the best in each other and are dedicated to doing that every single day.

In the last four years, I’ve watched Eric become self-possessed and confident because he was given the space to do so. In the last six years, I’ve watched Jack grow from a kid with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove to a guy who finally believes that he deserves all the good things the world has given him and then some. If you take nothing else away from this speech, I want you to know this: I’m incredibly proud to call myself a friend to both of them.

Jack, Bits, you’re always gonna be my brothers, my best friends, and two of the finest damn men I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I wish you both a long and happy marriage. Take care of each other, be good to each other, and never forget where you started—as a team.

So please join me in raising your glasses, everyone, and as they say at Samwell—penitus potes to Jack and Eric!

#shitty knight #jack zimmermann #eric bittle #zimbitswedding #omgcp #check please #this idea jumped into my head and refused to leave #shitty & jack & bitty friendship my beloved #my writing

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Losing You Twice / Prologue: Silence

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: On New Year’s Day, Y/N attempts a new chapter of her life but finds it may be harder than she thought... Category: Angst Content Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, implied masturbation (female) Word Count: 1,343

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

NOTE: AHHHH the prologue is finally out!! I’m so excited to start sharing this story with you guys, I adore this album with my whole heart and I just knew I had to use it as inspiration for a fic. I hope you all enjoy reading it!!

***

“I know that I should let go, should be letting you go. Can’t postpone it, not anymore, when I know what I already know: What I need is silence. All I need is time and space and silence. Cut communication ‘cause I’m trying to learn that I can lose you and survive it.” —FLETCHER, Silence

JANUARY 1st

Even though the snow outside was falling rather heavily, Y/N left the window open, a bitter chill drafting through her bedroom and settling into every nook and cranny, which included the closet where she was currently sitting on the floor, a glass of wine in hand and pictures laid neatly across the wood.

As her eyes grazed over every scrap of paper, mostly polaroid photos and little hand-written notes he'd left her over the years, the constant ticking of the clock back in her bedroom wouldn't stop.

Realistically it was probably the wine, enhancing her ability to focus on nothing else except the most menial, annoying little things. But she was thoroughly (and maybe a little drunkenly) convinced it was actually Time itself, taunting her— every constant click of the clock screaming at her as if to say, "You! Fucked! Up! He! Hates! You! Now! You're! Pathetic!"

The happy memories scattered about in front of her certainly didn't help. His face kept staring back at her, each lovesick gaze spewing even harsher words than the clock. Just by seeing his face glinting back at her under the harsh white light of the closet, all she could hear in her head above the noise was that one single sentence that's haunted her since Christmas.

"You don't actually give a shit about me, Y/N, you only ever care about yourself, and it's been that way ever since I met you!"

No matter how greatly she professed to him that that wasn't true, he walked out on her all the same, not giving her a chance to explain further. Though, he always took the time to listen to her, so his words coupled with the slamming of the door landed her with the impression that maybe she'd only said it in her head.

After all, she was half drunk on tequila at the time, the other half of her mind swimming with sadness and regret.

Maybe she hadn't fought for him to stay like she thought... Or maybe at this point he was simply done trying to make it work, done with hearing her half-assed promises to get better at communicating, and done with her...

It bothered her immensely that she didn't know.

And when he wouldn't even pick up the phone to answer when she wanted to ask, when she texted him and each one went promptly ignored, she felt like the answer was finally clear.

Now it was New Year's Day, just about ten minutes past midnight after Y/N opened the window, poured herself a glass of wine, and started sorting through everything in the closet. She'd went in with the intention of starting anew, like practically everyone did during the New Year. Though the longer she sat there, sipping the wine and staring back at pictures and notes that only reminded her of the one good thing she'd ever known and inadvertently thrown away, the experience was less cleansing and more daunting.

Everything was loud.

The click of the clock, and the howling of the wind outside as it blew snowflakes around in a near-blizzard, and the constant screaming of every word she wished she'd said before he left...

It was all too much.

So Y/N downed the rest of her wine, threw all the pictures and notes back in their box, and shoved it deep in the back where the memories couldn't hurt her anymore, at least in theory.

But as she crawled into bed, the clock now sitting in the kitchen with no batteries, she was reminded that there was one form of memory that she couldn't shove in a closet and hide away.

She drifted off, the sharp chill from the winter wind still lingering on her skin even after the window had been shut and she'd bundled herself up under the covers.

Even in dreams, it transported her to the night before Christmas, when she walked with him across town, looking at all the lights and finding themselves underneath a large tree. He took her gloved hand and placed it firmly on his chest as she looked up at him, snowflakes sticking to her eyelashes. She admired how pretty he was surrounded by white snow and colorful lights, his cheeks and nose painted a soft pink from the cold.

"I love you, Y/N," he said with every intention of hearing her say it back.

But for some reason, she didn't. Instead, she leaned up and kissed him, hard, nearly knocking him to the ground. And even though she was happy and warm, it was the first time she thought she'd ever felt him not kiss her back with the same fervor.

That should have been her first clue that things were going to decline, but she was so caught up in the feel of his lips against hers, no matter how distant they were, that she couldn't really bring herself to care. After all, it was Christmas Eve, and nothing bad could ever happen to their relationship during the happiest time of the year...

But this was a dream, and now Y/N knew better. She stood there, watching the scene unfold in front of her, screaming for herself to say it back, to yell, "I love you too, Spencer!"

But again, this was a dream— No matter how loudly Y/N yelled at her former self, nothing would change what happened in the past.

She woke up the next morning, cold and alone, and surrounded in silence. Not even the soft clicking of the clock was there to keep her company.

But that's what she wanted in the first place, and if she was ever going to get through this—to move on with her life without him at her side—then she was going to have to get used to it.

And so her phone sat nicely on her bedside table as she grabbed a random selection of clothes and headed to the shower. Maybe the water would wash away some more of the major remnants of his being from her body. Maybe she finally wouldn't be able to feel the ghost of his hands roaming her skin and tangling in her hair...

It worked for almost the whole day, and then she laid back in bed that night, her hand dipped beneath her underwear and eyes closed tightly. She hadn't meant for him to creep into her mind, but it made sense that it would have happened eventually— When your relationship with someone was built almost solely on sex, it seemed inevitable.

No one else had made her feel the way he did... He took such care and precision with her body, drew out every possible second of pleasure until she was out of her mind, and in turn she showered him with praise and loud shouts of his name. Spencer... Spencer!

"Spencer!"

She opened her eyes, hand retreating from her body as quickly as possible as she tried to blink away his image. Her breathing steadied, though a long, exhausted sigh fell from her lips almost as easily as his name.

It obviously wasn't going to be easy, but damn it if she didn't want to give up already and find him the way she always did after a fight.

This wasn't just a fight, though. And as she laid in bed, her thumb hovering over his name in her phone, something stirred in her chest that signaled a bad idea. Not that bad ideas ever stopped her before... But now?

It didn't feel right.

Nothing about any of this felt right. And she didn't know what to do about it other than shutting the phone off and tossing it to the side, snapping her eyes shut and huffing like a child while she tried not to cry.

Plain and simple, heartbreak was brutal. Especially when you were the one to blame.

And that sentiment was the sharp twist of the knife in Y/N's gut, plaguing her as she willed herself to fall asleep.

“It’s like a crutch, see if you’re up. 4am but I like a rush, so I’ll go into your bed, my safety net. Cheaper than a therapy vent, yeah, I know...”

***

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wordsinwinters · 3 years

Text

Then Again, Part 26 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Total word count: 50,293

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25,

Summary: After an intense argument and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Slow burn fic in which all characters are included and their dynamics explored; multiple character POVs.

Betas: @girl-tips-from-satan and @fanboyswhereare-you

A/N: This isn’t my favorite chapter, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year and I figured if I don’t post it now, I’ll never move on to the next. Additionally, as always, I live for feedback. 😉

Without further ado,

Then Again Part 26:

(Words: 2,825)

The bus ride will probably get boring soon, or at least as long as the girls stay asleep, but even as quiet as it is, it’s almost a perfect morning. Being early (around 6:00, I think?), there’s barely any light except street lamps and car lights, but some of the clouds on the right have caught a pretty bluish purple tinge. It reminds me of that Rainbow Fish book Aunt May used to read to me as a kid. To make it better, the morning air is chilly enough that the driver turned the heaters on low so it’s wrapped-in-a-blanket-while-it-snows warm in here. Although that also might be why, apart from general dirt and old gum, the strongest smell on the bus is salty grease— since the nearest heater is under the seat Flash spilled french fries and chicken nuggets in yesterday. It could be worse, though. I mean, it’s not necessarily a bad smell and the traffic isn’t horrible. It’s not the best, but it could definitely be louder and a lot slower. The field of flowing red tail lights ahead of us is oddly comforting, like a snail-slow pasture of mechanical color.

All in all, it’s a pretty cozy start for a dreaded five hour bus ride. It’s giving me quiet time to think. So that’s where I’m at. Or should be. I got some stuff organized in my head last night even if I keep getting distracted now. Well, it was more like a couple hours ago, since I wasn’t able to get to sleep for so long after we said goodnight. But anyway, I’m trying to focus. It’s just hard, even with both of them sleeping.

From my and Ned’s spot behind them, watching the girls’ heads gently shake and bump against each other as the bus shudders through potholes is kind of calming. They seem so peaceful from this angle, like two people who’ve never pranked me and Ned to the point we were nearly suspended, or kept us awake and annoyed by asking paradoxical hypothetical questions because they know how Ned and I will argue for days if we don’t agree on an answer, or anything else like that. It’s like finding two mischievous cats sleeping, curled up on a chair. It’s easier to appreciate them when they aren’t causing chaos. But it’s not that hard to appreciate them when they are anyway.

Though Ned and I won’t admit it when they’re fully awake, seeing their heads smack into the seat in front of them each time the bus lurched to a halt at stoplights (during the first ten minutes after they’d fallen asleep) was funnier than it should’ve been. Even knowing then that we wouldn’t mention it later didn’t stop us from exchanging silent laughs when they leaned back up, muttering unintelligible complaints before settling their heads back onto one another. For the last couple stoplights before the highway, at least, we decided to be better friends. We both stood up with one leg on the floor and one knee on our own seat so we could easily hold their foreheads back each time it happened. Again, I wouldn’t admit this out loud, even to Ned, but it’s a little bit funny that Ned was a split second slower than me, so while I kept catching MJ’s head before the stop, he half-smacked Y/N’s forehead, like a really-close-to-the-floor basketball dribble, and made a wincing face each time. A lot of times. But it did stop her from colliding with the seat, and she didn’t wake up or complain.

As nice as it is with them and almost everyone else sleeping through the dark, quiet first hour of the bus trek back to New York, I am excited for her and MJ to wake up. Whenever that is. I’ve missed them.

But anyway, I really need to focus. God. I’m not doing a great job of that this morning. Apparently. So I’m focusing now. It’s like Ned said. I need to be honest with myself.

Okay.

Alright.

No distractions.

I’m going to set myself straight now, before we get back, so I can make a game plan and be more decisive and make less mistakes. Fewer? Yeah, fewer mistakes. She’s told me that half a dozen times this since she read that grammar book last summer. But that’s not important.

If I’m being honest... I think I’ve avoided the real possibility that things could work out between us because it felt too risky. And I make some dumb, impulsive choices. So that’s saying a lot. If she said no, what’s the worst that could happen? May and Ned have been asking me that for months, and it’s been so frustrating. The answer should be obvious. The worst thing wouldn’t be the rejection, it’d be if it made her uncomfortable and she broke off our friendship. Or, even if she stuck around, if our friendship changed and I had to watch her get more and more distant, knowing it was my fault and nothing would ever go back to normal.

Those were the worst — and, I thought, most probable — possibilities. For months I’ve been certain that if anything changed, everything would, and it’d all go to shit. So I kept dodging it. And dodging her before the trip. But, then, things did change this weekend. Things are changing. We fought, and it was super shitty and awful and a total nightmare fiasco, but we made up. And she seemed almost as relieved as me when we did. Now we even have this pact about spending more time together. I know it’s officially only in the name of friendship, but something’s… different. I feel it, and I think she does too. And it doesn’t seem bad. That’s the craziest part. I mean, she even kissed me last night. On the cheek, but still. “Keep it.” Maybe May’s not ridiculous: she really might feel the same way.

I’ve been texting her this morning, actually. Aunt May. I had to admit that I’m happy she forced me to do the forehead kiss thing last night. As annoyed as I was that she and Ned ganged up on me like that, I can’t dispute the results. She kissed me! Kind of. (To be fair, she did hit my mouth a little bit even if it was an accident.) At first it made me wonder if she heard any of Ned’s shout-comments before I could turn the t.v. up to cover what he was saying. But I doubt it. Even if she felt the same way, I know her too well to think she wouldn’t freak out more and enough that it’d be noticable. Yeah, no, I’d definitely have been able to tell if she’d heard him saying things like, “Nobody’s saying you have to tell her that you googled the probability of high school sweethearts getting married that time she saved your ass on that Bronte essay, but yeah, Aunt May’s right! Just ask her to come over and either talk to her or do the hair/forehead thing!” Anyway, May’s on board with her coming over a lot this week and next week and giving us some space. So are Ned and MJ. Ned said they agreed on giving us two weeks (starting tomorrow) without them hanging out after school. And who knows, if the dance goes really well, maybe it’ll be normal for us to hang out, just us, without the whole group. Because… well, I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.

I’ll admit, they’re the best friends I could ever have. All three of them.

And it’s nice to have them all here now, Ned to my left and the girls in front of us. It’s even nicer to be outside of class or the city or crazy study sessions and have had a short breather from all that (despite the shitshow before we smoothed things over and could enjoy it). To be somewhere chill together. Yesterday and today probably feel even better because the last few days, or even weeks… no— months, if I’m being honest— have had me in a kind of less than happy place. But that’s over now. We’re all here and things are finally good. I just wish the girls would wake up, especially since Ned’s back on his phone. Again.

Yesterday, everybody hung out for most of the afternoon, but being in the whole decathlon group isn’t the same as just being the four of us. Or two.

Speaking of two— Ned being away during this next week or two is going to make everything so… unfiltered. New. Without his interference and being able to talk to him as often as normal, it’ll mostly just be her and me. Nobody to distract attention or blame stuff on or help me out when I’m doing something dumb (which is often). Like, for example, last night when I maybe let my excitement get the better of me and I might’ve jumped on the bed and thrown a pillow that accidentally broke the lamp on the nightstand. While I don’t really think writing that “Bill Mr. Harrington” note with the school’s address was Ned’s best idea, it helped me not care too much, enough that I didn’t do something dumber like actually tell Mr. Harrington. It might come back to bite us, though. Still, he was genuinely helpful this morning when Flash showed up too.

While we were hanging out in the girls’ room waiting for them to finish packing, there was a knock on the door. I figured it was Mr. Harrington about to yell at me and Ned for the broken lamp, so I motioned to Ned to shut up and move closer to the head of the bed we were already sitting on where, courtesy of the wall between the bedroom and bathroom, he wouldn’t be able to see us as long as he stayed by the doorway. MJ gave us an odd glance before she got up to answer it. Her annoyed, “What are you doing here?” didn’t immediately disqualify Mr. Harrington, but the sound of Flash’s voice saying, “I, uh, brought you guys some muffins,” made me tense at the first syllable.

“The free muffins they give us for breakfast?”

MJ’s dripping sarcasm nearly made me laugh even though I couldn’t see her, but Y/N turning from her suitcase and walking over to join them killed it still in my throat.

“Nope,” he said. “They’re fancy muffins from a bakery a few miles away.”

I wanted to roll my eyes out of my skull.

She may not like him, but that doesn’t mean I was wrong about him being into her. What a dumb way to impress someone. “Fancy muffins.”

“Expensive?” MJ asked. Even without seeing her face, I could tell she was giving him the squint death stare. It’s scary to have to respond to that face if you don’t know what the right answer is.

“Yes, especially with the delivery fee,” he said, sounding prepared for the question, “but they’re from a small local place, not a chain, which I figured you guys would appreciate. Actually, I think you’d like the woman who owns it, she was super grouchy and hard to convince.”

“Convince?”

“They don’t normally deliver at 5 in the morning.”

“Oh, so you thought you could just—”

“What kind did you get?”

That’s one of the things I like about Y/N. She knows how to manage tempers and when to jump in; she has Flash and MJ down to a science. In that moment, though, I wanted MJ to fire her most confrontational questions at him with no mercy.

“Well, they’re all apology muffins—” I heard MJ scoff. Exactly. She gets it. “But I got blueberry, chocolate, obviously, coffee, cranberry orange, maple, I think that one has chicken in it or something, and banana nut.”

Ned and I turned towards each other with silent smirks at the last one. It’s a dumb joke, but under normal circumstances we’d never resist—

“Cool. Since you’ve brought so many, you can come in.”

Sometimes MJ drives me up the wall. This was one of those times.

I mentally took back my agreement with her scoff.

The three of them came into the room, and for a couple seconds, Flash didn’t see us. The girls were closer to the window than they were to the wall and the bed Ned and I were sitting on, and he didn’t look behind him. Until MJ pointed us out directly.

“You can give them some too,” she said, her expression bordering on smug. “Apology muffins, right?”

Flash froze for a second. I straightened my back. Neither Ned or I said anything.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “Of course.”

Surprisingly, he shook his shoulders like a bug just buzzed by his head and walked over, opening a giant rectangle of a box up to us.

“Take however many you guys want.”

I stared at him, not moving. Nobody flinched. Then I realized he was tapping the side of the box with his thumb. Not in an asshole come on, hurry up way, but in an anxious way. Just as I started to reach toward the box, Y/N asked:

“Why’d you get so many of the coffee ones?”

Flash looked away at just the right second.

Did I technically cave first by reaching into the box? Yes. But did anyone see? No.

Although, I guess he technically caved by offering us the muffins in the first place. Ha. All the same, I took a blueberry one.

“They’re my dad’s favorite. I wanted to surprise him, you know? But I can’t even get a hold of.... Um, are your guys’ parents going to pick you up when we get there, or are you actually staying for school?”

“Staying.”

“All of you?”

He looked around to ask all of us, even me and Ned. We all nodded. When he looked at me, though, his eyes twitched. It’s a face I’ve gotten a lot before. He realized he said parents.

“You said these are orange cranberry?” Ned asked, pointing.

Flash nodded.

“They’re solid, though the banana nut ones are probably the best.”

As I said, under normal circumstances, like if one of the girls had said it, I would’ve laughed right then, but I’m not used to laughing around Flash. Ned, who usually follows that same rule, shook his head and grinned, if a little bit... nervously?

“Hell no!” he said, pretending to be mildly outraged. “I’m not eating banana-bust-a-nut muffins.”

A second surprise: Flash tilted his head and paused, clearly as stunned to be told a joke by Ned as the rest of us were to witness it— and laughed. So did everyone else. It was only for a few seconds, like literally three quick seconds, but for the first time for as long as I can remember, all of us were laughing with Flash. It stopped almost as soon as it started.

Tension crept back in soon so he left pretty quickly after that with an awkward, “See you guys in a few.” Thank god.

The girls finished tidying their room and going over the homework that’s due today (which we did last week since we knew we’d never get it done on the trip), before forcing me and Ned into the hallway so Mr. Harrington wouldn’t need to check our room for us and potentially find the broken lamp.

And then, pretty soon, we ended up on the warm bus, loaded in with everyone else. It seemed like everybody but Ned and I were too quiet and sleepy and squinty to be able to talk much before dozing off or staring blankly out the window or scrolling social media on their phones, the latter two options leading to the first in most cases. At this point, I think Ned, Flash, and I are the only ones still awake.

I’m going to work at tolerating him. As long as he doesn’t cross any lines with anybody from now on, I won’t bait him either. (Admittedly, I’ve been guilty of that, especially recently.) I mean, his comment about his dad was hard to miss. And even when he said it, it wasn’t a shock. Everyone in our grade at some point has had to listen to Flash’s rambling excuses for his parents ignoring or forgetting to show up for school events. Maybe being a dick is just hereditary for him. Or a family tradition.

I don’t remember how I got so off track. Where was I before? Oh yeah. Risk. Possibilities. The almost-worst case scenario that turned out not so bad. It’s been a messy weekend with plenty of re-evaluating, but the point is simple: I think I’ve got to give a few new things a try, and I’m excited to have a chance over the next couple weeks.

Next update: God only knows.

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fallingforyou123 · 3 years

Text

You Will Never Be A God-Une

Warnings: Slight language, implied smut, alight angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here is the official part one! Hope you'll like it, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Series Masterpost

The sheets hung loosely around her frame, the only thing keeping her from being exposed to the cold air. The stranger laid beside her in a dazed out state, chest rising ever so slowly. A small cloud of smoke engulfed the both of them, a bad habit Stevi had picked up from an ex of hers.

“Those will kill you one day.”

“No more than sleeping with strangers will.”

“Touche.”

Stevi moved to get dressed, keeping quiet to avoid another conversation. Leaving was always bad, but leaving when there was still so much to be said was the worst. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a feeling, something small sitting in her gut. It worried her, she’d never felt like this with a stranger. So safe and comfortable.

“Stay. Just till the morning, I’ll have my driver take you home.” Came the voice from the other side of the bed.

“No, definitely no. I have rules, no names, no staying. I can’t”

“What a lonely life you must live, to disconnect so much from those around you.”

Stevi looked at him, truly looked at him. He looked so much different than the man she met a couple hours ago. His perfectly gelled hair was nothing more than a brown mess atop his head, his eyes were clouded with a sleepy haze, and his suit had been replaced by a very thin sheet. He looked like someone she could see herself falling for back in university, she had to remind herself that this was a man with a lot of money, someone she’d probably dig up dirt on for an article.

She shook her head, she needed to leave.

After she finished dressing, she grabbed her bag from the front room and slipped out the door. Checking her phone she saw a couple missed calls from Brooke and an enthusiastic ‘be safe!’ text from Poppy. She quickly both, ensuring them that she was not dead in a ditch somewhere, before ordering an uber and hoping in the elevator.

***

The rest of the weekend had gone by in a blur. She’d spent all of Saturday nursing her hangover with ice cream and old reruns of Golden Girls in bed. Then Sunday was brunch with the girls at a little cafe where she was forced to share every detail of the events that unfolded Friday night, only leaving out how weird she had felt in the strangers' company. And then all too soon she was getting ready for a week of meetings and interviews.

Walking into the office, Stevi was greeted by her boss informing her that her 11am was now Stevi’s and ‘oh, look, he’s early.’ She mentally groaned, there was not enough caffeine in the world to make this worth it. Don’t get her wrong, Stevi loved her job, but god did she hate her boss. She was flakey, and whenever anything didn’t appeal to her, she’d simply give it to Stevi with barely any notice. There were far too many nights that she had to stay late because she was given a column to write only hours before it was due.

With a heavy sigh, she walks into the conference room, hoping that this won’t last long. “Good morning, my name is Stevi, I’ll be doing the interview today since Diane couldn’t be here.”

“Rule one.”

She whips her head up towards the man, “What?”

It’s in that moment that she realizes who this is, the man from Friday night. And coincidentally, Tom Holland. She should’ve known the other night who he was, his name and face had been plastered on the bulletin board for weeks, one of their most anticipated interviews this year. Tom was not only a pretty face, but the youngest CEO to be running an international company in decades. His father had started Holland and Co. Publishing almost 30 years ago, and only a few months ago he handed it over to Tom.

“I said, rule one darling. You’ve broken it.” She’d forgotten how lovely that voice was, remembering how captivating it was to have him whispering in her ear.

“I heard what you said, Mr. Holland.”

“Call me Tom, you’ve more than earned that privilege.”

“This is my place of work, not some stupid nightclub, I keep things professional here.”

Neither of them take their eyes off the other, a silent war taking place between the two of them.

“Well, if you’re such a professional, stop looking at me like you’re wanting to fuck me.”

A small gasp leaves Stevi. She stands up to leave, gathering her things, and looks at him with venom in her eyes, “Mr. Holland, I’m afraid that this interview is over, if you would please talk to the receptionist she will reschedule you in with someone other than me.”

A small look of shock crosses Tom’s face before he too stands, reaching out to grab Stevi’s arm, “Wait, I'm sorry. Sit down, I’ll be civil.”

Reluctantly, she does. Placing her notebooks in front of her and pulling out the recorder. Before she begins she gives Tom a warning look, “One word, one single word out of line, and this is over.” To which he nods and sits back, hands folded in his lap, looking like a true business man.

***

The rest of the interview goes by smoothly, only a couple of suggestive looks being thrown her way before he bites his tongue. Stevi’s never been more relieved to finish something in her life, the tension between the two becoming almost unbearable as the interview went on. “Okay, I think that’s all we need for the article, a draft will be sent to your assistant to go over before we publish it in next week's business column.”

Stevi stands quickly, ready to put everything behind her and spend the rest of her day hiding in her office. Before she can leave, a hand is wrapped around her arm once again, and body right behind her. “Let me take you to dinner, darling. A reward for being good.”

The voice in her ear sends a shiver down her spine, and for a second she debates it, “Tom, I can’t. I don’t mix business with pleasure, this is already a conflict of interest.”

“More of those damn rules. Live a little, let your guard down for once.” He looks at her with pleading eyes, something that makes him look more like his true age. That feeling sneaks its way back into again, and for a moment, while she stares into his eyes, nothing else exists. Just the two of them and a world of possibilities.

“If I say yes, this stays between us. The people we are here, and the people we are then are not the same. My job may not seem dangerous to you, but it could be very bad for me if someone gets the wrong idea.”

Tom nods, he knows all too well what she means. “Tonight at 7, meet me at The Garden on 22nd, I’ll make the reservation.”

She agrees, lets him put his number in her phone, and gives Tom one last smile before heading down the hall to her office.

She jumps when she sees someone sitting at her desk, “James, what are you doing here?”

“What, can’t check in on my favourite captain?”

“Not without a secret agenda, and last I checked, I have nothing to report to you, I’m off duty.” Stevi walks towards him, pushing his legs off of her desk.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re never off duty. Not when you’re talking to men like that.” James points out the door, to where Tom can be seen talking to the receptionist.

“That is none of your business, James.”

“I want details, everything you can find out about him, on my desk by Friday, you know what’ll happen if it’s not. Have a good day Stevi.” And with that, James walks out of the room, leaving a chill hanging in the air.

Stevi suddenly can’t breathe, the four walls surrounding her feeling like a cage. She quickly grabs her things and walks to Dianes’ office, telling her there’s a family emergency and she’ll work on the article at home. Within minutes she’s scrambling to get into her car, dialing Poppys’ number, needing someone to calm her down.

She spends the rest of the day on Poppys’ couch trying to recover from her near mental breakdown. This life was never something she wanted, she’d been dragged into it by her ex. After he failed to complete a simple task, he was killed in their apartment, and she was responsible for finishing it out. But it’s never that simple, one task turned into two, and then four, and now she was too far in to be able to leave.

All too soon, it was 6:30 and she was leaving for her date with Tom. She’d left Poppys an hour ago, promising her that there was nothing to worry about, it had just been a bad day. She drove in silence, not wanting to focus on anything but the road. She got to the restaurant right on time, quickly being seated in one of the private rooms. She’d been here once before with her parents when she first moved to the city. They’d taken her out to celebrate and they’d spent the night drinking fancy wine and eating more food than they could’ve ever imagined.

Lost in her memories, she didn’t realise how much time had passed since she’d arrived. Checking her phone she saw that it was now quarter past, and no sign of Tom. She tries texting him, thinking maybe he’d gotten off of work late. By 7:30 she starts to panic, she’s 2 glasses of wine in and still no sign of him. To no avail, she calls him, worry turning into anger when it goes straight to voicemail.

It’s almost 8 when the waiter informs her that Tom has called, he won’t be making it, but to order whatever she likes and he’ll pay for it.

And so she sits there, wine glass in hand, wishing she’d never even met Tom.

#tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland series #tom holland x oc #mob!tom holland x reader #tom holland and co

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chiwhorei · 4 years

Note

Hey I would like to propose something rather dirty with Sakusa (sakusa and dirty in the same sentence: O) that he's having sex while his girlfriend is on her period! Thanks, good luck!

Paring: K. Sakusa x period-having!reader (i’m going to use gender neutral pronouns bc not just girls have menstrual cycles)

Warnings: 18+, all characters are aged up, smut, period sex, fingering, shower sex, mentions of menstrual blood, brief mention of alcohol

A/n: this ask has been sitting in my drafts for weeks and i’m so sorry, i literally wrote is all out and then it just sat there (?) Sakusa has a very special place in my heart as i deal with ocd and anxiety disorders, so i think it’s important to remember that people are dynamic and ever-changing, and just because they have a certain anxiety doesn’t mean they aren’t able to function in a romantic relationship.

also, @joyousandverywarlike just wrote an *insane* Sakusa fic. it’s not about period sex but zo literally said “I bet you never thought I would be dirtier than you” and i about fell down the fucking stairs, so if you want some amazing Sakusa smut go read Filthy.😩

Okay enough with the proselytizing, let’s get nasty.

period sex is amazing, and honestly i think everyone should be doing it, even Sakusa.

he’s a very clean person, but i don’t think he would actually have a problem with this. he’s around bodily fluids all the time and gets all sweaty and gross while he’s playing.

(also i’m p sure there’s a panel where he literally stretches his hands on the fucking dirty floor so my dude will be fine)

he is an anxious person so feeling comfortable with your body takes time, and you have always been patient with him, which he appreciates more than he actually expresses.

he loves you so much, it kills him that sometimes his anxieties keep him from being super affectionate with you, but he tries to show you he cares in the best ways he knows how

i headcannon him as having an “acts of service” love language so on cold mornings he goes out and starts your car for you before leaving for practice, or he throws your towel in the dryer as your showering and brings it to you all nice and warm (i am so soft for him okay he’s my comfort character the nasty is coming)

sex was slow-starting in your relationship, taking months to have him feel confident enough to let go completely with you, so the idea of him actually wanting to have sex with you on your period never seemed plausible

but tonight, your cramps are intense. like twisting-knife-in-your-ovaries bad, and your ever observant boyfriend can tell how much pain you’re in

he’s not great with bedside manner, but he’s trying okay. without a word he puts his shoes and mask on and fucking leaves the apartment 💀

but he’s just going to the store to buy you chocolate and some red wine because he read that it could help, and at least the wine will make you feel better in some way

in the most unromantic way he literally just waltzes back into the apartment and shoves a chocolate bar into your hands, and goes to the kitchen to pour you a glass of wine

he’s so soft in his own way 😭

you happily accept both offerings and he pulls you into his side on the couch, physical touch was panic-inducing to him at first but over the years he’s realized he yearns for skinship with you

he puts his big hand (😩) on your abdomen and rubs circles into your skin, trying to ease your pain in anyway.

as he’s rubbing though, you’re cheeks are burning hot because your body is so sensitive and reactive on your period, a moan accidentally slips out and your whole body tenses

you immediately start to worry that Kiyoomi is going to grimace and be disgusted by you, his head snaps towards you but there’s no disgust written on his face.

his eyes read surprised, yes, but his pupils are blown and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth... he’s turned on and you are more than a bit shocked

“I read online that orgasms can help with period cramps.” Your boyfriend blurts out, as blunt as ever, and your mouth hangs. Is he serious?

you’re obviously treading lightly based on his hang ups when it comes this kind of stuff, and the knowledge that he has a way to possibly make you feel better but you not wanting to ask makes his heart ache a little

he puts his forehead against yours for a moment, taking in the smell of your shampoo before pulling you gently to straddle his lap

even the minimal friction makes you groan, causing blood to rush straight to Kiyoomi’s cock

“do you want to go take a shower with me, angel? the hot water might help you relax.” he says, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips

you agree and let your boyfriend lead you to the bathroom, he starts the shower and makes sure it’s nice and scalding hot (there’s no way Sakusa doesn’t shower in a lake of hellfire)

he pulls you into the stream and trails his soapy hands all over your body, pressing into your shoulders to relieve the tension built up

kiyoomi presses your back to his hard, muscular front, hands wandering down to your chest, you arch into him as he squeezes your acutely sensitive nipples

his ministrations are relaxing your body but every touch is becoming less and less innocent, so by the time his fingers wander down to your clit you’re already whimpering

“i want to help you feel better angel,” he says, trailing his lips over your neck, his dark ringlets tickling your shoulder, “you know i don’t mind getting a little dirty if it’s for you.”

just as the words leave his mouth, two long fingers dip into your pussy, ripping a groan from your throat.

Sakusa feels your tight warmth in a new way, you’re clenching around his digits immediately and there’s a soft, syrupy quality to your pussy that’s different than usual. the feeling of you wrapped around his fingers alone is driving him insane

he positions his thumb against your clit to rub tight circles, kissing and biting down on your neck when your head rolls to the side

all of the pleasure Koyoomi is giving you is magnified, feeing each movement of his hands electricly through your veins

“do you want to cum on my fingers y/n?”he’s spurring you on, making you clench desperately around him. your hand finds purchase in the hair at the back of his head tugging as the tension in your stomach snaps

your only upright because of your boyfriends strong arms wrapped around you, fingers still inside and marveling at the way you pulse around him.

he’s obviously doing this to ease your cramps and help you relax, but his cock is aching at the feeling of your pussy and needs to get inside of you desperately

Sakusa grabs your hips and turns you around, pinning you against the wall with ferocious resolve

he’s more wild animal at this point than man, hungry for something now that’s he’s gotten a little taste

he hoists you up slightly so that he can line himself up with your cunt, he pushes in slowly, not wanting to cause you any pain

as he delves in inch by inch, the feeling of your slick, relaxed walls welcoming him in and the breathy calls for his name are intoxicating

he rocks into you, noticing how each thrust has you twitching, begging him not to stop

“feels so good oomi. fuck” you run your nails across his slick back, the hot, rushing water combined with your sex is fogging every surface of the bathroom

“cum for me one more time, angel. let me see how good i make you feel.” he snaps back into you, angling your ass to make sure he’s pumping right against your sweet spot. he wants to feel you come around his dick like this, but he also wants you to know he can push past his anxieties and take care of you

especially if taking care of you feels this fucking good

when he feels your warm, drooling cunt pulse around him he can’t hold back anymore, spilling inside you with a round of breathy grunts and moans of your name

you stay like that for a moment, presses against the shower wall tightly wrapped i. each other.

he helps you clean off, taking his time to rub every inch of your body, your cramps melt off in the hot water and circle down the drain

after you two are nice and clean, Kiyoomi wraps you in the towel he had thrown into the dryer before your shower. 🥴

i’ll pray for all of you’re nasty Sakusa thoughts,

amen🙏🏽😇

Sinners Anonymous

#sinners anonymous #saint dymphna speaks #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi

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roger-that-cap · 3 years

Text

once upon a december

summary: you had no idea who you were, how you got to where you were, or even your real age. all you knew was that you needed to go to auren, and something there would help you find the family that you always secretly craved. little did you know, you’d find family far before you actually got to auren.

warnings: nothin’. maybe a little swearing possibly? memory loss (lol)

word count: 4.7k

so, not this being my first multi-chaptered fic up here… WOW. there’s absolutely no reason for me to put this out right now other than the fact that i wanted it to leave my drafts. ha!

part one!

You had known the cold your whole life. When you woke up after god knows what happened, you were in the cold snow, face buried in it, clothes wet with it, and so that was what you knew. You laid in the snow for what seemed like forever, and you were lucky that a man was on his horse, selling trinkets that were said to belong to some lost princess of a far off land. The “Land of Always Summer”, everyone in the orphanage liked to call it. He carried you up onto his horse and dumped you right at the orphanage, and you weren’t even conscious enough to move your lips to thank him. But you would never forget his face and the way he tipped his hat, snow flurrying around before hopping up on his horse again and disappearing like he never existed in the first place.

The cold was the first thing you remembered, and the first part of the life that you now knew. Everything else was such a blur that you never even bothered to attempt at remembering what your life used to be, especially not when all of the other kids were around.

Growing up, they all thought you were weird. They had all been dropped off as young children, some even babies in the vicious winter storm. They knew that they couldn’t have done anything that made their parents want to chuck them, because they were too young to do so. But you? For you to have been thrown to the side at fifteen or sixteen years old, you must have been really weird. And to make it worse, you couldn’t even defend yourself. You knew nothing about yourself. Not even your name. But they had that covered for you.

At first, they called you Stacy. It was an old name, a name that was slowly on the rise again. It was easy to remember, and it wasn’t degrading, so you went with it at first. And then, one night, you woke up and shook your head, determined to name yourself, and not have others name you. You would give yourself at least that. Something would be yours, and if it wasn’t going to be memories, then it would be your name. You decided randomly on Y/N, and then that was what you were called from there. For years at the orphanage, that was who you were.

But you were done. It was the day. You had finally come of age, and it was time for you to leave, unless you wanted to be employed there. You surely did not. You were ready to get away from the people that ran the place, and the children that you grew up with and watched grow, except one. You were packing your bag, trying to keep the smile off of your face in order to not make any of the others feel bad.

“Today, isn’t it?” You jumped, even though the voice was one that you easily recognized. It was Lucas, the little boy who had practically become your shadow ever since he was brought to the doorstep as a baby. You were the oldest kid, you were a girl, and he had no mother. You were the one who was in charge of taking care of him because somehow, you knew how to take care of children. And you loved him, you loved him more than you had ever loved anything in your “new” life. He would be the hardest thing to leave, without question.

“Yes, honey.” You stopped packing your small bag so that you could walk up to him and crouch down to his height, his curly hair and sad brown eyes really plucking at your heartstrings. “I’m leaving now.”

“When will you be back?” He asked slowly, his eyes getting a little watery. But he had thick skin, skin so thick, skin that no child should have to wear. He wiped his eyes quickly. “Will you be back at all?”

“I will be, one day.” He was young, and you were hopeful, but you both knew that the chances of you coming back to the mild hell of the orphanage were slim to none.

“I want to leave, too.” He said, his voice tapering off into a whine at the end, his brows scrunching together. “I don’t like it here.”

In every aspect, you thought about taking him with you. But you had nothing to support him with. You were sure that you were going to starve for a while even by yourself, and you couldn’t take the possibility of him being taken in by a good family who could provide for him away because you wanted to keep him close. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. But someone is going to see just how adorable you are and give you everything you want, alright?”

“A good mommy or daddy?”

“Absolutely, my love.” You pulled him into a hug and closed your eyes, and you knew that it would probably be the last time that you were ever going to hug him. You squeezed him twice, drawing out a giggle from his little body. “Because you… what? Finish.”

“Because I deserve it.”

You pulled away and smiled with pride. “That’s right. Because you deserve it.” You patted his head before turning to finish with your bag, and you hoped that you were fast enough so that he didn’t see your watering eyes.

It took him a few more minutes to say anything, but you knew that he was standing there and watching with his wide eyes, curiosity flaring up inside of him like always. “Don’t you have a coat?” He asked quietly. “It’s winter time.”

“Sure, I have a coat,” you lied, your voice a calming hum in the otherwise quiet room.

You didn’t have a coat anymore. You gave him your coat not even three weeks ago, when the heat of the fire wasn’t enough for him to stay warm in the dark of the night. You worked with dull scissors all night and a thick sewing needle that you borrowed without the warden knowing, and you got to work with the needle and made him a nice fur blanket. It was much nicer than any of the ones that any of you and the others had ever been given, and he was convinced that you hired a seamstress to make it for him. You took the compliment.

That was your clue, though. Your singular clue to who you were, and it wasn't even big. You remembered how to do nothing but walk, talk, write, and read in the beginning. You were about as smart as anyone else, and unlike them, you had no hobbies. Until you went to a village and saw a cheap little sewing kit, and it sparked something so faint in your mind that you knew that you would work extra chores just to be able to buy it. You knew it.

You were an absolute goddess with a needle and some fabric, as it turned out. Your hand never wavered, your aim was never off, and no stitch was ever too tight or too loose. Your first stitching was immaculate, and so were your second, and third, and so forth. It wasn’t until Sophia, a girl who had been with you since you had started, suggested that it was a clue to who you once were that you truly considered it to be. From then on, sewing was all you had. You hoped that it would be enough.

“Why don’t you get on to breakfast, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.” You suggested, turning your head to give him a little smile of encouragement. He shrugged his shoulders and bounded away, leaving you with your own thoughts for a moment.

You knew what you had to do. You had to go to the nearest town and get a job there, wherever you could knit something. You would get fast money there, hopefully, and maybe the money that you got would make you enough to buy a ticket, one to take you to the one place that stuck in your mind like it was pasted. Auren.

Ever since you heard of the land where warmth surrounded you and the sun came down brightly on everything that breathed, you wanted to go. The cold was welcoming in a way, but the Kingdom of Auren was said to be the prettier one between it and Yuran. Yuran was cold and unforgiving, but beautiful if one allowed themselves an open mind. You didn’t want to have to think too much, not about something that should be so plain in front of you. But Auren was far, and it was expensive to get there.

Chore money hardly got you that sewing kit, and it sure as hell wasn’t enough for a horse, or a train ticket.

By the time you got to the breakfast table with your bag around your shoulders, your plate was already made. Lucas was sitting next to it, where he always sat, and he grinned at you the second you walked into the room. The others were all demolishing their breakfast, because it was a good meal today. Bacon and eggs and even pancakes, which were a rarity. A big meal was made every time a person aged out or got adopted, and it was tradition. You almost teared up. It was your big meal, this time.

You sat down in the chair and ruffled Lucas’s hair, putting the napkin on your lap and rearranging your spoon and fork. The sounds of cutlery against dishes was almost as loud as the others chewing, sloppily and without a care in the world as they stole glances at you, even the ones who didn’t particularly care for you.

“Loosen up, would you?” A boy named Julius asked, like he did at every meal. “You always look so… so…”

“You look fancy when you eat.” Sophia explained in a bored tone, nodding towards the way you held your fork and knife. “I don’t know why he feels the need to say it every single time we sit down together, but-”

“Because it’s true, Sophie,” he spat, and you sighed. You wouldn't miss the arguing, that was for sure.

“So, where will you go?” Dalia, a brown skinned girl who had the cutest gap in her teeth and the brightest eyes in the orphanage asked.

“I’m hoping to get a job as a seamstress in the village,” you said somewhat strongly, even though you were nervous. Actually, you were nearly bursting out of your own skin. What if they didn’t take you?

“That will be a good job for you, you’re really good at it.” The entire facility could agree on that. Every time one of them ruined their pants or ripped a shirt so badly that the caretakers just told them to throw it away, they came to you. From the time that you came and up until the day you left, you had made entire wardrobes for them all.

“I hope so, Dal.” You sighed out, giving a nice smile when you put a syrupy piece of pancake in your mouth, not talking until you swallowed again. “Are you guys going to be good?”

“We’re always good, Y/N,” Lucas said with a small eye roll. “You don’t have to worry about us.” You wished that you didn’t.

After everyone was finished eating, the door opened, and in walked the tall and broad shouldered woman who owned the orphanage. You saw all of the other kids sigh and look away, and you did the opposite. You were older, and this woman was mean, but she didn’t scare you. She was bitter, but that was all she was. “You’re leaving.”

“In a few minutes,” you added, and then kept eye contact with her when you put a piece of bacon in your mouth, nearly collapsing at the taste. God, breakfast hadn’t been so good since Susanne left. You felt Lucas tug on your pant leg, his arm reaching under the table.

“Good.” The woman said, and she gave you a once over. “I imagine that you’d want to work at the dress shop in the village, correct?”

“That’s my goal.”

“Hm.” She took a few steps closer. “I heard there’s an opening there, if you want it.” She looked towards the windows. “But you’ll have to make it quick. You’re not the only girl with quick fingers and a needle, you know.”

She wanted you out. You knew that. She never really liked you, and you never cared for her much, either. You came too late for her to get attached to, not even in that oddly placed way that she loved everyone else. “When do you suggest I take my leave?”

“Within the hour,” she answered immediately. “You don’t want to get lost in the dark, you know.” You frowned. It was eight in the morning, there was no way that the sun was going down any time soon. You knew that she just wanted you to leave, and so did everyone else at the table who was older than nine.

“Okay.” You said, not anywhere near to being in the mood to start an argument with her. That’s not how you wanted Lucas to remember you, at all. So, you kissed his forehead, waved goodbye to all of the other kids, and then got up from your chair.

The worst part of leaving was finally approaching, close enough to raise its fist and knock on your door. You had seen it happen millions of times it seemed, and yet, you thought that you would be exempt from it. The children were always ushered back to their rooms once another left, and you were sure that it had everything to deal with not wanting them to see what freedom looked like. The warden didn’t want them to witness what it looked like when an orphan got their own wings.

“Wait!” Lucas shouted, and he nearly yanked your arm out of the socket before shoving a little, wooden toy soldier in your hand, the one that he always played with.

Your heart was warm. It was so warm that you had a hard time forming your next words, your mind so full of adoration for this little boy who had been your living shadow, your source of happiness in a world that had given you none at all, nevermind on a silver platter. You took in a deep breath at seeing one out of two of his favorite toys, the one that he always made you take so that he could play with the other one. The one he was trying to give you had an idle gun with it, and the other had it cocked aimed. Lucas’s one won every time.

You gave him a sad smile. “No, kiddo, you can keep it.”

“I have another one.” He rushed out. “Please, take it. That way we can still play when we’re far away.”

Oh. Oh. If you could have chosen to stay there with him until he grew too old to be there, you would have. You would have a million times over. You knew that he had even the old, bitter woman thinking twice about her decision to throw you out when she made a hmph noise and turned away, her long dress exiting last.

“Alright. I’ll take it, Lucas.” You ruffled his hair again. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” He hugged you tightly, and then you were swarmed by all of the younger kids, who held you all together in the customary send off hug as tears came through your shut eyes.

“I’m going to miss all of you, you know.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you heard back, coming from about twenty different voices that you recognized individually.

“I’ll miss you. Even that posh accent and the way that you eat and sit,” Julius admitted, and you cracked a smile at him.

“I don’t have an accent, but, thank you.” You said, and you reached over and flicked his forehead. “You guys are all amazing, and don’t you ever not think that for a second. You deserve the best, and one day, you’ll get that for yourselves.”

You looked at all of their faces, and saw them watching you. Despite how much some of the older ones didn’t like you sometimes simply because you were older, they listened to you. “You are the best children anyone could ever ask for, and if people don’t see that, they’re dumb.”

“We don’t need parents to feel validated,” Sophie nodded.

“Precisely!” You said, and then you cleared your throat when you saw some of them look at you strangely. “Exactly. Now, you guys remember that, okay?” They nodded their heads, and you pulled your back tighter. “Alright. I’ll miss you.”

You watched them be ushered into their rooms, watching the backs of their heads disappear, even hearing a few sniffles. You clenched your jaw and cleared your throat, shaking your head clear of any worries or trace of sadness, and then you walked up to the door.

No one would accompany you out there. No one was going to be able to tell you which way to go, not metaphorically or even directions wise. There wasn’t going to be anyone like Sophia, who had clued you in on your past so kindly before. No one was going to be beside you, and you were going to miss it, no matter how nagging everyone was.

You took in a deep breath as you felt the chill of the door on your hand, and you wrapped yourself in the blanket that came from your bag. You only regretted for a split second that Lucas had your coat, but then you remembered that he needed it much more than you did. And so, he had it. You opened the door to light snowfall, and immediately once you stepped onto the cold ground, a snowflake fell onto your cheek.

Slowly, you walked up to the rusted gates that were probably once a brilliant silver, and then you looked back at the rundown place before touching the gate, forgetting all about rust. You took in a second deep breath and closed your eyes, because you knew that once you stepped foot outside of the gates of the orphanage, there was no going back.

You were an orphan no longer once you stepped away. You were an adult. You were the caretaker, not the one to be cared for.

You nodded your head to yourself and pushed the door to the gates open, hearing the same sound that you had always heard after breakfast when someone left, but it was much louder up close. You almost jumped at how easy it was to get open, and then you slipped through, shutting it after yourself quickly. You huffed out a breath and saw it fog up in the air, and then you felt tears burn in your eyes.

You were leaving behind the family that you barely even realized that you had. And you would likely never see them again. And this was all because you wanted to find the family that had tossed you aside like yesterday’s newspaper, like you were someone else’s problem.

But it wasn’t really to meet them, you knew. It was so that you could see what you had or hadn’t been missing.

Your feet were moving before you even knew that they were. You looked back and couldn’t even see the orphanage anymore, and you had a strong urge to run in again and say that you regretted leaving, but you couldn’t. So you kept walking.

§§§

You didn’t have a watch, but you knew that it had been hours since you started walking away from the orphanage. Your hands were getting a tingly feeling in them, and your pants were wet with snow. They weren’t nearly enough for you to be protected, and you really regretted not saving up for some real pants instead of a new sewing kit.

You hadn’t passed a single road sign during the entire walk. You expected to see something, maybe even a landmark that the bitter woman would talk about, something that would spark a memory even, but you got nothing. You had absolutely no idea where you were, and you were starting to get scared.

You were definitely in the woods, that was for sure. You were in so deep that turning back was the less intelligent option. You hadn’t heard another voice in hours, or even the sound of horses and carriages. Nothing. Where the hell were you?

Your foot caught a tree root that was hidden by a somewhat thick layer of snow, and you went down hard. You grunted when you hit the ground, and you immediately reached out for the ankle that started throbbing. You hissed when you touched it and then threw your head back, nearly starting to cry from being scared out of your mind and frustrated at the same time.

“Why didn’t they give me a map?” You asked aloud, slamming a hand on the ground before bracing yourself to stand on the very tree that had got the better of you.

You only got three steps before falling over again, the pain in your ankle far too strong for you to go much further. You bit down a cry as you tilted your head up towards the sky, which was getting darker by the minute.

You were going to die out there. After your first night alone. You were about to die.

“Um, miss?” You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of another voice, scrambling up even though you felt the pain in your ankle intensify. “You shouldn’t stand on that.”

When you finally turned around, you were met with a man on a gray horse, who looked just as confused as you. Even from the distance you were at, you could tell that he was handsome. His blue eyes contrasted nicely with his dark hair that was cut short with just the slightest hint of waviness. He tilted his head sideways at you, like he was trying to see something, and then the weirdest of noises escaped his lips, a strangled gasp that startled you even more. “Ale- who are you?”

You turned your head behind you, thinking that his slightly horrified question couldn’t have been directed towards you. “Do you see something?”

“Who are you?” He repeated, his voice slightly choked yet as sharp as a blade. His horse trotted closer without him even speaking a command. He stopped a few paces in front of you, and you looked up at him directly for the first time and nearly cried. He was huge. And he looked like he could crush you.

“I- wait, who are you?” If there was one thing the orphanage taught you, it was to not talk to men you didn’t know. It was a way to get hurt or murdered. Everyone knew that. Not even men on horses who could pass for rich knights could be trusted.

It took a few moments of mutual staring for him to even think about saying anything. “I’m James,” he answered cautiously, like you were the one to be wary of. “And you are?”

You kept your grimace to yourself. You had two choices; to be friendly with this man and hope that he gave you a bit of shelter for the night without anything in return, or to be rude and possibly save your life, or ruin it all the same. You were leaning towards the first choice.

It took you a moment to clear the cobwebs of thought from your mind and come up with an answer. When you did, it seemed like he was hanging on edge for your response, like it would make a few things in his life miraculously make sense. “I’m Y/N.”

He gave you a look. It was long, curious, and doubting. You thought for a second that he was surely seeing through you, seeing a version of you that you weren’t aware of. He breathed in through his nose, looking you up and down. “How old are you?”

You frowned at the question automatically. “You know, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”

You could have sworn that his lips tilted upwards before he schooled his features. “Are you camping?”

“I-” were you to tell him that you were utterly helpless? Was that the smartest thing to tell a man so big and obviously strong? You wouldn’t stand a chance if he decided to be your worst nightmare, not at all. But something in you knew that he wasn’t anything like that. Something knew. “I’m kind of lost.”

“Where are you trying to go?”

“I’m trying to find the village, where there’s an opening for a seamstress.”

His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “You’re a seamstress?”

“I’m trying to be.”

“Have you learned?” He asked, and you looked towards your freezing feet.

You should have expected that question. If not from a stranger in the woods, than from a possible employer. You sighed. “No, I never learned. No one taught me.”

“Then how do you plan on becoming a seamstress?”

You looked up at him for a second, trying to keep your teeth from chattering as you decided to shed your bag and put it on the ground, opening it up to reveal some shirts and pants that you had made on your own. “I made these myself.” He made a noise.

“I thought you said you never learned?”

“I didn’t,” you said softly, the warmth of the clothes feeling good in your hand. “I never did learn, I just did it one day. And it’s been what I do ever since.”

He was still giving you that look, like he was expecting something more, or like you were some type of ghost or hallucination. The staring match took a while, and you were starting to feel the numbness of your ankle wear off. “My friend and I are in need of someone who’s good with a needle.”

That wasn’t exactly what you wanted to hear, unless he and his friend owned a sewing shop. Judging by his appearance, it was unlikely that he did. “I should be finding town.”

“The nearest town is about thirty leagues, and there are no openings for seamstresses—or any job really—there.” He said. “I can take you to the nearest town, my pal is waiting there for me.”

You were thinking far too hard for such an easy question. Thirty leagues was too far for you to clear by yourself before nightfall, and if night fell on you, you were as good as dead. You tried to think about it, but you knew your answer. You were done if you didn’t get on that horse. “I… okay. I think I’ll have to take you up on that, James.”

“Do you need help getting on the horse?” He asked, and though you had never even been on a horse before, you shook your head. You weren’t going to let the man grab on your waist and hoist you up. You would fall ten times before that happened, because that was far more embarrassing.

“No, thanks.” You were scared. You had never seen a horse so close before, and they were much bigger than you expected. Horses were for the rich, and that was partly why you were riding with this man. If he was needing someone who could sew and had a horse, he would pay you well for something that you enjoyed. It seemed good, in theory.

You took in a deep breath as you threw yourself up there, expecting fully to slip and land right on your butt, but you didn’t. And he didn’t help you, either. In a movement as fluid as water, you were on the horse, in the exact position that you were supposed to be in. You frowned at yourself, looking down at your legs in muted surprise.

“I’m shocked you made it,” you heard him rumble, and you nodded. “Most people who ride for the first time can’t do that.”

You added that to your memory bank, another clue to the screwed up mystery you were playing around with. You watched your sigh come out of your mouth, your breath coming out in smoke because of the cold. “Guess I’ve ridden before.”

*****

this isn’t what i usually write, but man, was this fun. i hope you guys liked this little part! come back if you want, and you’ll meet steve!! i hope you guys liked it, thank you so much for reading this far, y’all have my heart fr

#marvel fanfic #steve rogers fluff #knight!steve #knight!steve rogers #knight!bucky barnes #knight!sam wilson #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve fluff #royalty au

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notsowrites · 3 years

Text

the heart i know

Alex misses Michael terribly while he's off on an roadtrip with his siblings.

This idea has been knocking around in my head for a while, and somehow ballooned into 6500 words.

(AO3 Link)

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Despite living in a house with three brothers growing up, Alex had always felt alone. His time in the Air Force had never dissuaded him of that feeling, even as he was constantly surrounded by others. Part of him knew it was the secrets he'd kept, the parts he'd been unable to speak freely about, show the world his whole truth. Buying the house in Roswell after his accident, he'd dedicated time to trying to make it into a home.

But even as he filled it with music and books, and decorated the rooms exactly how he wanted for the first time in his life, he couldn't deny that it felt as though something was missing. An emptiness still lingered through the walls, and though Alex loved this place that was all his own, it wasn't quite home yet.

It wasn't until after - after he'd dated Forrest, after he and Michael had spent months carefully navigating a tentative friendship, after they'd slowly and carefully fallen back together, after Michael had begun to spend more nights sleeping next to Alex than not - that Alex started to truly enjoy the space he'd once carved out for himself.

In his study, against the wall opposite his own desk set up for days when he works from home, is a drafting table covered in sketch paper and notebooks filled with calculations. The sight never fails to make Alex smile, to fill him with a sense of pride for the way Michael's mind works, how he is able to conceptualize and design things, and turn them into a reality. The bookshelves in the room now hold more than just Alex's coding textbooks, and the random literary novels he's acquired when he's had free moments to read, but mathematics and physics, books on environmental science and agriculture that Alex would never have dreamed of owning or reading.

There's a black Stetson that regularly hangs from the hook in the hallway near the front door, a pair of well worn cowboy boots are usually nestled on the floor next to his own work boots. And though he'll never admit it out loud, opening the door to the hallway closet basks him in the familiar and comforting smell of rain that accompanies everything Michael owns.

Before, the most he'd ever left sitting out on the kitchen table had been his laptop, now there are notebooks full of Michael's handwriting that regularly disappear and reappear usually occupying the space at the far end.

In the living room, the blanket he'd kept meticulously folded on the back of the couch rarely ends up that way these days, instead thrown haphazardly after an impromptu nap. Though it's usually Michael who dozes on the couch because he'd been watching and listening to Alex play on the keyboard or trying to work out a new chord progression for a song. He wonders if it should bother him, the way Michael drifts off during those times, but it never does.

The kitchen remains immaculate, save for one new notebook shoved in between the cutting boards that sit neatly against the back splash - Michael's recipe book. Each time he finds some new dish to try, he scribbles the ingredients and the instructions down for reference, though Alex has never seen the notebook open while Michael is cooking. As if he's already committed the entire thing to memory.

But one of the best reminders in the entire house that shows Alex how much this isn't just where he lives and rested his head at night, but is a home he shares with the person he loves, is the modifications to the bathroom. When he'd bought the house, Alex had immediately installed a grab bar and purchased a cheap little bench he could sit on - enough to make do in the shower, but never anything more than functional of their intended purpose. It had been the renovations that Michael had undertaken, designing a more comfortable bench, and a much more accessible grab bar system, that allowed Alex to truly begin to enjoy taking showers, no longer feeling like they were just a necessary, but also something to relax him after a long tiring day on base.

He sits at the dining room table now, setting up the new computer he's purchased for Michael. Of course he'd been unable to stick to a budget, too concerned with making sure Michael had the best for the work he was going to be doing on it. Alex had asked, of course, after realizing that Michael was often just using the browser on his cell phone to search for things, and sticking to pen and paper for everything else. Michael had hemmed and hawed, claimed he didn't need one, and Alex had gotten him one morning, after they'd woken each other up with lazy blow jobs, to admit how much easier his own computer could make things.

Alex misses him terribly.

"I feel pathetic," he'd admitted to Maria three days into Michael's trip with Max, Isobel, and Liz.

"You wanna come over?" She'd asked, taking pity on him. "We can just cozy on the sofa and watch cheesy romcoms and gorge on junk food."

He appreciated the offer, and almost took her up on it. The problem was, the trip Michael had taken didn't have a defined timeline. It all hinged on what they found up in following some clues that led North regarding the UFO crash and it's survivors. Alex had tried to go with him, hadn't wanted to be so far away in case something went wrong, but when his PTO request was denied due to insufficient notice, he'd relented after Michael had convinced him he'd check in every day.

But now it’s been three days since the time they’d spoken, and Alex is starting to worry. He’d resisted during the first twelve hours, convincing himself Michael just hadn’t found a moment alone. The remaining twenty four had been agony, especially when there’s been no answer on anyone’s cell phone - Michael, Isobel, Liz, and Max’s all had gone to voicemail in the end.

"He'll call," Maria had said when he'd told her. "Perhaps there's no signal where they are."

He'd been surprised, given her own ancestral ties to the crash, that she'd elected to stay in Roswell. But Maria had gently reminded him that she was more concerned about Mimi than road trips with no definitive answers, and she had a business to run - sometimes personal trips just had to be sacrificed.

So he occupies himself with setting up the new programs on Michael's computer, making sure it all runs smoothly for when he returns, and buries himself in work projects to pass the time, and tries to not think something went wrong and that's why Michael hasn't gotten in touch.

"We're on our way back," Michael greets him in the first conversation they've had in thirty six hours. "We ran into some problems, so I can't talk long, but we're maybe four-"

"Six!" Alex hears Liz shout in the background.

"-hours away, and there's nothing stopping me from coming right to you."

Alex looks at the clock, and how it's after midnight now, which means it'll be well into the morning hours before Michael is walking through the front door.

"I know you'll probably be tired-"

Michael scoffs, laughing and it's the most wonderful sound Alex has heard in days.

"Tell those bastards you're going to be late."

Alex smiles. "I might not leave at all then."

It's tempting to think about, calling out to spend the entire day with Michael instead. But he has three meetings scheduled, none of which he can get out of short of being on a ventilator. But it will mean that when he gets home in the afternoon, Michael will be there.

He reluctantly falls asleep after that, curled up on Michael's side of the bed, face buried in the pillow that no matter how many times it gets washed, always smells exactly like Michael. It doesn't make Alex miss him any less, but it's been his only comfort these last couple days.

When his alarm goes off several hours later, Alex stubbornly doesn't think about how he woke up alone again. He takes his morning shower on autopilot, wanting to go through the motions enough so that he can just come home to Michael. Breakfast is coffee and cereal, same as it's been every day Michael has been gone, because while Alex is able to cook for himself when he has to - recipes are not that hard to follow - he prefers Michael's cooking. A voice in his head tells him it's just because it means he doesn't have to, but that's not it. He loves watching Michael experiment with things, adding spices or flavors that he never would have dreamed of, and everything still tasting delicious. He'd tried not to be too surprised the first time he’d watched Michael cook for him, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Did you learn from one of the people you lived with?*

Michael had shaken his head, concentrating on the vegetables he'd been chopping up.

"Sanders was the first one who took an interest. After I started working for him, sometimes I'd crash on his couch, and he'd cook me breakfast in the morning. First time someone didn't make me feel like I was an imposition."

Alex's heart always broke hearing about what it had been like for Michael growing up. To not have any memories of happier times, but believing they existed and surviving on that hope. He's often wondered since if there was a way to retrieve the memories that Max, Isobel, and Michael couldn't remember. Particularly after learning about Nora and Louise, and how hard they'd tried to protect their children. His own childhood hadn't always been bad, there had been some good moments, memories from before his mom left when it had felt like they had been something akin to a happy family. It was only after she left when things had changed.

It’s that fear now, of possibly turning into a monster like his father, that keeps Alex from entertaining the possibility of a family. Neither he or Michael have brought it up, and Alex wonders if it’s because they’re both too scared of repeating the unpleasantness of their childhoods. Part of him knows, believes, that he would never turn into the monster that his father was, but fear isn’t always rational, and it doesn’t always make sense, Alex knows that. Maybe one day he’ll believe it too.

Because deep down, he wants it. He wants to marry Michael some day. He's had part of a proposal written since he was seventeen, when he was younger and more naive. There's never been anyone else who made him fell so fast and hard, but Alex doesn't care.

He continues on autopilot as he goes about his day, making the commute to the base, attending his meetings, going over a project that's currently in development for the land the Air Force had purchased from the Foster's several years prior - delayed because of funding and approval issues. He skips lunch, trying to make it through the day faster, and spends most of his last meeting staring at the clock in the corner of his laptop screen.

The drive home is excruciating - it feels longer than it ever has before. There's no new text messages, no missed calls, no voicemails, and Alex tries not to think about how it's probably only because Michael was exhausted. Hopefully he fell asleep the moment he hit the bed, and that's where he's going to find Michael when he gets home.

It's just been two extremely long weeks.

He toes his boots off inside the front door, and drapes his jacket on the hook. There's a black duffel laying near one of the chairs at the dining table, and Alex lets out a sigh of relief. He wastes no time pushing open the bedroom door, greeted by darkness because Michael has all the curtains pulled tight to keep out the sun. He closes the door behind him and pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it in the middle of the floor as he makes his way to the bathroom, flipping on a light. Inside, he partially closes the door and removes his pants, sitting down on the window seat to remove his prosthetic. There's a crutch leaning against the wall, one of the places Michael is always diligent in making sure to place one of his spares. The stress of the past several days has traveled all through his body, and Alex feels it acutely in his hip, and around his stump, which feels extra sensitive to pressure as he removes the liner. He debates the merits of drawing a bath, letting himself relax and let the tension melt away - but it would mean delaying being near, and getting to touch, Michael again for the first time in two weeks, and he decides against it.

Crutch nestled under his elbow, Alex makes his way back into the bedroom, naked except for his boxers, and crawls into bed, letting his crutch fall to the floor. He lets his hands sweep up Michael's legs, past his hips and stomach - a thrill traveling through his body that Michael had fallen asleep naked and ready for him - body following as Alex leans down to place feather light kisses to Michael's skin. He continues upward, pressing his face into Michael's neck, breathing in that familiar and comforting rain smell, his whole body relaxing in response. Alex presses a kiss to somewhere along Michael's jawline, before feeling Michael's arms move, wrapping around him, and pulling their bodies tightly together, indicating he’s awake too.

Without a word, just Michael pushing up to try and find his lips, kisses landing on his cheek, and neck, before finding his lips, Alex feels as he lets go of his hold, and Michael's hand brushes against him. He shifts a bit, so Michael doesn't have to try and squeeze his hand between their bodies, and reaches down, taking Michael in his hand. It's rough, just skin on skin, and Alex knows that friction can't feel good. He pauses, leaning back, and retrieving the bottle of lube from the nightstand where he'd left it during Michael's absence. Carefully he coats his hand, recapping the lid, and reaching back down, fingers wrapped around Michael again as he runs his thumb over the head, which makes Michael moan so so beautifully, and Alex wonders if he'd even touched himself at all during the trip, if he'd been alone long enough to. He jerks Michael off, keeping his face pressed against the side of Michael's neck until Michael is shifting, turning his head and pressing his open mouth against Alex's. He quickens the pace, sensing Michael is close, and pushes his other hand into Michael's curls, pulling at them slightly, but causing the desired effect as Michael thrusts up to meet his hand, and Alex slows his pace, letting him ride it out, pressing kisses to Michael's cheek as he settles back against the pillows.

"Welcome home," Alex whispers, nuzzling against Michael’s cheek, reveling in the contact.

“I told you I’d make it back.”

Alex lets Michael press their lips together, before watching as he slides out from underneath him, pushing up off the bed and heading into the bathroom. Alex only moves as far enough to sit up, his eyes never leaving Michael, watching as he moves around, grabbing a washcloth from the closet, and running it under the hot water.

Finally, thanks to the light of the bathroom, Alex gets a good look at Michael, and immediately sits up in bed, blinking hard at the sight. Michael’s body is covered in bruises -most of them are on his abdomen and back, and Alex is pretty sure there’s a cut on his cheek below his left eye.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Alex yells out, suddenly pissed off that Michael hadn’t said anything, Alex had put his hands on those bruises, they had to have hurt.

Michael pauses, looking down at himself like just realizing the bruises are there, before glancing back at Alex, shrugging his shoulders, and Alex tries to maintain his composure. It’s not going to do him any good to get angry at Michael.

“Turns out the people we were looking for were actually looking for Jones. They saw Max, and wouldn’t believe that he was someone else.”

“And Liz and Isobel-”

“They’re fine - it’s only me and Max who get to look like this. The girls had stayed at the hotel the night this happened - or well, the two days we were missing afterward.”

“Missing?” Alex is seething now, understanding the reasoning behind the fact that he hadn’t been able to get in touch with Michael or anyone else for several days. “Did you forget you have telekinetic powers?”

Michael smiles at him, making his way back into the bedroom, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. It doesn’t do anything to calm Alex down, but he appreciates that Michael knows he needs the physical contact of some kind in this moment.

“They had some sort of serum, something similar I’m guessing to what Helena Ortecho dosed me with when she wanted me to build the atomizer. Rendered me powerless for almost two days. Max too.” Michael slides back onto the bed, and Alex immediately leans forward, hands carefully running across the skin, careful to avoid all the places where Michael has bruises and cuts.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Michael doesn’t reply, and turns away from him, running a hand through his curls, and Alex watches as they slowly fall back into place.

“I don’t want to hurt you-”

“You didn’t-”

Alex glares at him, and thankfully Michael doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Because you would have stopped touching me, and I didn’t-” Michael sighs, reaching out and taking Alex’s hand. He lets him, adjusting so their fingers are intertwined, and watches as Michael presses a kiss to the back of his hand. “Because it’s been two weeks, and nothing these past two weeks has felt as good as your hands on me.”

“Michael.”

Alex takes a deep breath, and barely lets the idea form in his mind, knowing that he’ll overthink it and talk himself out of it if he does. He pushes himself up, maneuvering on the bed, until he’s straddling Michael’s lap, legs wrapped around his hips. Alex digs his hands into Michael’s hair, and pulls their lips together, foreheads gently knocking against one another. The feeling of them pressing together, only the thin layer of his own boxers in the way makes Alex grind down harder, needing the touch.

Michael flips them, so Alex is underneath him, but his legs still wrapped around Michael’s hips, pulling them close together, and Alex laughs into Michael’s chest as he leans over him and retrieves the bottle of lube from earlier. Alex watches, as patiently as he can, as Michael stands up, pulling his boxers down and squirting some onto his hand, coating his fingers, before reaching down and with one finger pressing into Alex.

It has been too long as he pushes down into the contact, hands gripping into the sheets of the bed as Michael adds another finger, using just the tiniest bit of force to open him up. And Alex can’t look away, can’t stare at anything except Michael’s face, and the focus in his eyes in how he’s touching Alex. He feels Michael press in one more finger, and while he appreciates the care Michael is putting into making sure he’s ready, Alex finds that he doesn’t care, he just needs, needs-

Michael’s fingers slide out, and Alex groans at the loss, before Michael is lining himself up and pushing forward, and Alex wraps his legs around Michael’s hips again, urging him forward, filling him up. For a moment, they stay like that, Michael buried inside him, and Alex reaches up, grabbing hold of Michael’s shoulders, his neck, and finally his face, and pulling him down into a desperate crush of their lips before he feels Michael pull out, almost all the way but still inside him and holding him open, before thrusting back in. When Michael hits that spot inside him that sends him wild, Alex can’t do anything except bury his teeth into the junction where Michael’s neck meets his shoulder, the rain smell that is so very Michael all he can focus on, before he reaches down and takes himself in hand, leaning into the tightness he can feel forming, his orgasm inching closer now.

Michael’s orgasm hits first as he continues to thrust forward, dropping his head to Alex’s chest with a muffled groan, as Alex continues to jerk himself off, feeling his own orgasm grow, but the friction is too much, and it’s wrong, and as he slows down his movements, he feels Michael’s hand cover his own, and Alex pulls back, watching as Michael takes over. It doesn’t take long, Alex has spent too many nights dreaming about Michael’s hands on him, and it’s as Michael thumb brushes across the tip that Alex lets go, moaning out his own climax into the curls on top of Michael’s head, fingertips pressed into the skin of Michael’s back.

He pulls Michael down into him, their bodies pressed tight, and Alex keeps his legs wrapped tight around him, one hand digging into his curls as they both breath deep and heavy, coming down from their highs.

It takes another couple minutes before Michael is pushing himself up, and pulling Alex with him, and Alex realizes too late, Michael is carrying him into the bathroom. He doesn’t protest as Michael carefully sets him down next to the shower, and Alex gracefully falls onto the bench, leaning forward and turning the water on, watching as Michael disappears back into the bedroom, returning moments later with his crutch. Alex uses this opportunity to clean himself up, removing the remaining evidence from his skin, letting his fingers dance across Michael’s skin as he watches him do the same.

They dry off, Michael double checking his crutch is within reach, before pressing their lips together one more time, and disappearing back out into the bedroom. He returns a moment later with boxers, and a t-shirt, leaving them on the sink for Alex to get to, and disappears again back into the bedroom again.

By the time Alex has put on the boxers, and pulled the t-shirt over his head, Michael is standing in the doorway, wearing a pair of black boxers, and his hair is towel dried enough that it’s wet, but not dripping onto the floor.

“Dinner?” Michael asks, and all Alex can focus on is the cut next to Michael’s left eye. It’s already in the healing stages, clearly having been received several days earlier, but it’s entire presence makes Alex angry. “I wasn’t thinking anything too complicated, maybe fajitas? If we have the ingredients, since I’m sure you haven’t cooked anything while I’ve been gone.”

Alex scoffs at him. “I went shopping yesterday.”

He takes his time getting dressed, and fishing out one of Michael’s clean work shirts from the dresser, pushing him arms into the sleeves, pressing his nose into the fabric. He’s always amazed at how well the rain smell persists, but it’s comforting, and it makes him feel like he’s surrounded by Michael even in those moments he’s not. He stands in the middle of the bedroom, debating whether or not to put his prosthetic back on, eventually deciding against it - they’re not going anywhere else tonight, and the idea of wrangling with it when they’re just going to end up going back to bed in a few hours isn’t appealing to him at all.

By the time he makes it out into the main room, standing at the foot of the dining room table, Michael, who has slipped into Alex’s Air Force hoodie so he’s not walking around shirtless, has already spread out the necessary ingredients on the counter in the kitchen. There’s a pan on the stove, and Michael is concentrating on slicing the steak into strips, the vegetables from the crisper waiting to be cut up next. Alex doesn’t pay too much attention to the specifics of the cooking, and glances down at the table, only to notice Michael’s regular notebooks are missing, though the laptop that is his gift is exactly where he left it.

Alex watches, transfixed, as Michael scribbles something into one of those notebooks, and then retrieves his cooking notebook from it’s spot against the wall, writing something down in that as well. The way Michael moves, Alex can’t even begin to imagine what his thought process is like to be able to shift around constantly like he does, one idea after another flowing through his mind, needing to be captured and saved.

As far as he can tell, Michael hasn’t seen him yet. Which is fine, because Alex is more than happy in this moment to enjoy watching him, reveling in how comfortable Michael looks. He thinks of the drafting table in the study, and two vehicles parked in the garage, and Michael’s clothes with their own space in the dressers, and in the closet, and can’t look away from Michael in the kitchen, cooking and looking very much like this is his home. And Alex thinks of every time Michael has told him about not belonging, about not feeling wanted, and about how often he’d been shuffled around the system, and something tightens in Alex’s chest.

Years ago, he’d seen this beautiful, handsome boy who made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and offered him a warm place to sleep at night. A boy who had stood up for him when no one else would, who had without hesitation put himself between Alex and danger time and time again. Who looked at Alex like he was the only person in the world that mattered, and Alex has always wondered if he’s worthy of that love, of that devotion. But Michael has never looked at him any other way, even in their worst moments, during the arguments and the fighting - Alex has never doubted that Michael loved him. Because while Alex knows he’s always had trouble verbalizing his feelings, Michael has always been one to stand tall and declare them in the most beautiful ways.

And Alex knows that, without a doubt, there is nowhere else he would rather be in this moment.

“Michael,” he chokes out, because the words are clawing up his throat, and usually Alex is careful about what he says, and how he says it, and he’s never - at least he doesn’t think he has - truly told Michael how he feels. And standing here now, after being apart for two weeks, and the issues with keeping in touch during that time, and the fucking bruises, and it’s all too much for him to keep in now.

“I was thinking about my workshop, and how we can modify some space in the basement here if that’s-”

Alex doesn’t let him finish, can’t even process what Michael is talking about past agreeing with it because he's talking like he knows this is his space, and Alex can't help but feel happy and so fucking proud to see that Michael knows this is his home too.

“Michael,” he starts again, waiting until Michael is looking back at him. “I am so fucking in love with you.”

He was expecting a reaction of some kind, probably something akin to Michael just crossing the room and kissing him. What he certainly doesn’t expect is to hear the knife clatter to the floor, and Michael swear under his breath, and for him to turn the water in the sink on, shoving his hand underneath it.

It takes Alex’s brain a moment to come back online, wondering what just happened, before he realizes that Michael has sliced his hand open. But before he can move, Michael has grabbed a dishtowel, and wrapped it around his hand, as he rushes toward Alex, good hand reaching out and pulling their bodies together, kissing Alex. And Alex is helpless, he melts into Michael’s touch, his arms wrapping around Michael’s waist and pulling himself closer, and Alex faintly realizes his crutch has fallen to the floor.

“You’re such an idiot,” Alex says against Michael’s lips, but Michael just shakes his head, diving back in and kissing him again.

“I don’t care,” Michael replies against his lips, and Alex feels helpless to stop him. "I'm happy to be your idiot."

“We’re going to have to call Kyle now, and have him look at your hand-”

“It’s really not that bad-”

Alex grabs Michael’s wrist, pulling back far enough to get a better look at it, the towel wrapped tightly enough for now, and Alex knows the only reason he hasn’t immediately settled into worrying about an infection is because of Michael’s alien DNA and it’s resistance to human diseases and ailments.

“What if you need stitches?”

Michael smiles, leaning in again, and Alex doesn’t stop him.

"I'm gonna go put my prosthetic on, and then call Kyle, so please, no more accidents." Alex tugs at the dish towel, and Michael yanks his hand back.

In the bathroom, Alex collapses back on the window seat, and takes a deep breath, cursing the events of tonight. Well, not all of them because he'd never regret Michael - even through the good and bad between them, Alex has learned to take it all in stride. He just can't believe Michael's reaction to what he'd said had been to slice his hand open.

He calls Kyle first, leaning against the wall, and wondering if he should never had said anything at all. They're lucky - Kyle isn't working, and agrees to come over, but Alex can hear the apprehension in his voice and knows he's going to have to figure out a way to repay the favor.

By the time Alex has put his prosthetic back on, Kyle is letting himself in through the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder, looking as though he'd rather be anywhere but here - and Alex can't blame him for that. His status as Alien Doctor means he's the only one who can treat the aliens without fear of discovery.

“Do I even want to know?” Kyle asks, carefully pulling back the dishtowel, and inspecting the wound. Alex watches as Michael ignores the question, his good hand reaching toward the new laptop that's still sitting on the table.

“Guerin’s an idiot,” Alex supplies from where he’s standing in the kitchen heating up leftover pizza, since dinner was ruined, and Alex was done letting Michael near sharp objects for the evening. As Kyle sets about cleaning and bandaging Michael’s cut, including dropping a full bottle of nail polish remover on the table for Michael to drink, Alex moves around the kitchen, cleaning up the ruined dinner that Michael had planned for them, shaking his head at the half cut up meat and vegetables, and putting anything that can be saved back in the fridge.

“Yeah,” Michael adds, not paying attention to Kyle, his gaze firmly settled on watching Alex in between sips of acetone. “But you love me.”

Alex watches Kyle stop what he’s doing, eyes moving up first to Michael’s, and then over to his own, as if asking if he needs to tell Michael to shut up before he starts telling Kyle things he definitely doesn’t need to, or want to, know.

“Did you just figure that out, Guerin?” Kyle replies instead, and Alex wonders if he thought that the safest option. “Cuz the rest of us had bets on how long it would take you two to figure your shit out.”

Alex glares at Kyle, remembering several conversations years ago, where Kyle had tried to nudge him into talking to Michael, insisting that it was the key to everything between them. It hadn’t been bad advice, it had been exactly what Alex had needed to hear. The problem was, like it had always been with them, timing.

Timing had always been their enemy, even from the very beginning. Alex had thought they’d beaten it, after everything they’d been through where they’d all but given up on ever being together. He doesn’t like to dwell on it too much, on their crashing back together in the weeks following the reunion, or how fast he’d pulled away due to the threat of his father still lingering over them, choosing to protect Michael over being with him.

“Who won?” Michael asks, and Alex glances over to see Kyle bent over Michael’s hand, gauze pressed against the wound. He doesn’t want to know how far off their friends were, if he and Michael had spent too much time letting everything else get in the way instead of trying to work things out between them. But he’s already cleaned up the kitchen, and after all of this, Alex really just wants to eat dinner and take Michael to bed, and not wake up until the morning.

“Max.” That’s a surprising answer, Alex thinks. He’d expected it to be Maria or Isobel. Or even Kyle himself, who seemed to have picked up on what Guerin meant to him long before Alex was even willing to admit to himself that it could be obvious to anyone. “And even he was off by about four months. You two really did take forever.”

“I’m surprised Maria didn’t win.”

“She took herself out of the running, said it’d be cheating.”

Alex is thankful when the oven beeps, indicating the pizza is ready, and ignores the remaining conversation between Kyle and Michael. He removes the tray from the oven, and plates two slices each on plates for him and Michael, before wondering if Kyle is hungry. But as he turns around with the intention of asking, Kyle is standing up, backpack in hand, looking ready to leave.

“I don’t want to know what caused that cut, but for my sanity, please don’t do it again.”

And with that, he’s gone, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Alex, what is this?” Michael asks, fingers running across the smooth top of the laptop.

“It’s yours,” he replies, matter of factly. He knows Michael is going to resist, going to insist he doesn’t need or want it.

“I didn’t ask-”

Alex takes a deep breath, because he knew the fight was coming. He knew that Michael would resist it, because that’s how Michael is. He gives and gives and gives, and Alex has watched him reject things people have done for him over and over again, thinking they were debts that needed to be repaid.

“I know you didn’t, but with all your research and your designs - I thought this would make it easier.”

Michael doesn’t say anything to that, and Alex wonders if he’s not going to actually argue against it.Maybe it’s just the events of tonight, maybe Michael is going to save the bickering for another day, another evening.

Instead, Michael shakes his head, eyeing the computer one more time, and pushing up off the chair, and walking into the kitchen. Alex tries to not focus on his injured hand, on the stark white bandage wrapped around reminding him of a different time in their lives, causing him to flinch away, picking up a plate and taking a bite of pizza.

He watches Michael lean against the counter across from him, picking up a slice of pizza and testing if it’s cool enough to eat. It’s shit timing, but Alex needs to know something, needs to ask Michael about tonight.

“Did you not know?”

Michael pauses, pizza poised in front of his mouth, and frowns at him, before dropping the slice back onto the plate, and sliding it back onto the counter.

“Of course I knew.”

“Because I know I’m not good with words, I know that I don’t make those big grand declarations like you do that take my breath away and render me speechless.”

“Alex-”

“I just,” he pauses, leveraging himself across the linoleum until he’s standing in Michael’s space, fingers itching to reach out and make contact. “It felt important to tell you.”

He lets Michael crowd him against the cabinetry, pizza temporarily forgotten. Wraps his arms around Michael's neck, as Michael pulls him on with his hands settled on his hips, and Alex just loves this man. He's infuriating and he's beautiful, and more than anything else, Alex wouldn't trade anything in their past if it meant changing getting here.

"I told you a long time ago, I don't look away from you. I never could." Alex lets Michael lean in, foreheads pressed together, noses bumping, lips pressed together in smiles. "You're my home, Alex. You made me believe, when no one else did, that I didn't have to build a ship and leave. That I could have a family here too."

Alex thinks about home and Michael's plans for moving his workshop into the basement and kisses him again and again and again, feeling like he's that seventeen year old boy again who got nervous around the boy he liked. Except now they're grown up, they're men who have seen more and done more, and changed them. But one thing through it all has remained the same.

"You really want to move your workshop here?" Alex asks, knowing the answer, but needing Michael to understand that he's asking to make sure. He needs to hear it from Michael.

"Do you not-"

"No!" Alex immediately replies, and then catches himself, knowing how this has to sound. "Fuck. No, I want you to. I'm just - I'm making sure it's what you want."

Michael reaches behind him, and Alex twists his head to see it's one of his notebooks, and they pull away from each other just enough so Michael can flip through the pages to find something specific. Be holds it up so Alex can see and-

It's a design for a prosthetic for him.

Alex takes the notebook, staring at the pages, not understanding half the calculations and formulas scribbled in the margins, but not caring because he understands the design schematic.

"I just thought I could try and make you something that was lighter and easier to get on and off-"

Alex lunges forward, cutting Michael off, and wrapping his arms back around him, using Michael and the countertop for balance and leverage to stay upright. He kisses Michael over and over again, and thinks about everything Michael does for him.

"Say it again," Michael says, pulling back so they can look each other in the eye.

Alex buries his face in Michael's shoulder, pressing his lips against the skin of his neck, but he's smiling. He hasn't felt this happy, this excited, this in love since he was seventeen. He knows Michael is waiting for him, the ever patient partner that as a teenager he never dreamed of deserving, much less finding.

"I love you."

#roswell new mexico #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #some references to off screen violence and past abuse #but mostly just what it says on the tin

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popculturebuffet · 3 years

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Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 2: The Ballad of Duke Balloney or “I’m Flintheart Glomgold and I Always Will Be!” (Commission for WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people. I”m Jake, I review stuff and today continues my look at Ducktales season 2 story arcs, of Moons, Millionares and Mothers. And while this arc as a whole is paid for by WeirdKev27, due to the Arc’s length, 17 parts including 15 episodes and 6 comics (2 of which will be in the same review), this one’s special as he’s using his patreon review every month to do so. If you too want me to review something of your choice simply hit up my ask box or join my patreon at patreon.com/popculture buffet. You get access to my discord, to pick a short when I do a group of them for characters birthdays, help me hit neat stretch goals like my next which is reviewing a darkwing duck episode a month, and best of all EXCLUSIVE REVIEWS. And I just added one this saturday of a carl barks story centerting around wigs, legal battles and attempted murder, both by our villian.. and by our heroes...

I will never get tired of that panel nor the boys inexplicably finding a blowgun. Point is it’s there if you want it at THIS LINK, but enough plugging so I can help pay the streaming bills and keep doing this... let’s get to the meat of things shall we?

This episode begins the second arc of this retrospective, The Glomgold Arc. And this arc was inevitibly going to come to this blog for two reasons. The first is that I have made no secret, in fact i’ve shouted it as loud as I can the neighbors are concerned, that I fucking love the 2017 Version of Flintheart Glomgold.

Glomgold is Keith Ferguson’s best role, tied with Lord Hater obviously, but it is indeed a tie. No one but Keith could’ve pulled off glomgold’s combination of ego, ham, and batshit insanity. He just makes the utterly stupid and wonderfully ludicrious things that come out of the mans mouth sound so damn natural with such an unearned confidence. It’s very clear that Frank had Keith in mind when putting this version of everyone’s faviorite South African Billionare pretending to be a Scottish Billionare and wisely built the characcter around him and his immense talent. I was not familiar with Keith at all, wasn’t even aware he voiced hater before this show but damn if that hasn’t fully changed.

Glomgold was also just in general a brilliant update of the character: While I know a lot of duck fans weren’t happy with this version at least at first. As the action figure sitting on my shelf that once road in a car with my david hasslehoff baywatch funko pop I have entirley due to my love of baywatching, this insane music video hoff did in the early 2000′s, and just in general how gloriously rediculous the man’s life is when you stop and think about it for a second from a pay per-view concert that ended up falling on the same night as The OJ Chase, to his kung fury cameo , to his weird insetence they never had sex on baywatch desspite mounds of video evdience and the fact the show was buit around the bulk of it’s cast’s sex appeal, to the fact the model of his pecs used for the spongebob movie was sold in an auction and on and on... I was going somewhere with this...

Oh right as the action figure, and previous praise, shows I am not one of these fans: The original isn’t bad, in fact one of my faviorite life and times chapters that i’ll be covering this week and talking about later in the review has him as the main antagonist and a pitvitol figure in Scrooge’s life in the worst way possible. Rosa GETS what’s needed for Flinty to feel specail: to have him be an evil mirror to scrooge, what he could’ve been had he kept down the path he started down in Africa. A ruthless, amoral asshole who will do ANYTHING to get rich.

It’s just often that isn’t emphasised enough and he’s instead just another one of the millions of generic assholes trying to get scrooges money sometimes with hired goons...

Not only that but Frank really COULDN’T have him at full effectivness. See an arch enemy in the Silver Age, which STARTED the same year Glomgold Debuted no less, wasn’t a big deal. They were still considered your deadliest foe but they’d often, much like Flinty be shuffled into the rogues gallery, show up for an issue to meance the hero, then either escape, get thrown in jail only to escape from that easily later, or be presumed dead. The last one I bring up because it happened to Magneto a LOTTTT pre-claremont. For Fuck’s Sake Charles have those teenagers train to look for a body once in a while!

Original Flinty was built for that, and brilliantly so as Barks had a talent for it , as seen by the fact The Beagle BOys, Flintheart and Magica have stuck around ever since and even in comics overseas where Flintehart is replaced.. it’s by Rockerduck who Barks ALSO created. The 87 Show followed the same formula, which was just as standard for 80′s cartoons. It’s why Megatron took until his toy was canceled the movie to shoot starscream in the face.

The problem is villians evolved and the expecation became more that a true arch enemy had to be a true threat. While Frank and Matt COULD’VE made Flintheart a real and honest threat, he also would’ve had to make him a Big Bad. The probelm was those seats were clearly taken: while i’m pretty sure some ideas came as they went, the main story beats were clearly planned out well in advance: Webby being a clone was always the plan, as was FOWL, Darkwing being a fan of a fictional Darkwing who became the real thing, and Della being on the moon. So he presumibly carefully choose each season’s big bad... and thus Season’s 1-3 would be full up wise. Season 1 had Magica, who he made into a TRUE threat, yet left the door open for her to return as she did, Season 2 had Lunaris who even if they hadn’t fully thought him up, they probably had thought up the moonvasion, and Season 3 was what they’d built the series towards with FOWL.

Details probably changed, it’s very clear to me they were likely going to have all three buzzards be important and ended up deicding to pivot to it just being Bradford over time. But given how well they though tout the general framework, I highly doubt Flinty was ever considered as a seirous big bad.. and I know i’m saying this in an arc that tried to set him up as one, but i’m getting there simmer.

So they could wait for a season 4 that might not happen.. or make him a recurring villian. So Frank and Matt decided to do that and leaned into comedy. Centering him around keith who Frank worked with previously on Wonder and thus knew he could play a hammy manchild like no one else, they simply leaned into the goofier aspects of his personality. His being similar to scrooge became him being an intentional and blatant knockoff. As Scrooge himself perfectly summed up in episode 1 “The poor man’s version of me.. which to be fair still makes him insanely rich”.

It’s another reason to really love this version as while yes, they did make him a bafoon.. he’s a wonderfully, redicuously layered bafoon: He still contrasts scrooge perfectly, manically hammy to Scrooge being calm, especially around flinty, blantatly crooked to Scrooge’s died in wool honesty, and wasting money on revenge instead of spending it on his actual company. There’s more obviously but some i’m saving for the review.

Not only that but his insane schemery has a rhyme and reason to it: He attacks Scrooge every week like the saturday morning cartoon villian he is, but his schemes are always unwieldly and massively stupid, and he always goes with the first draft. It’s something the team enforced: the first version is what they role with because that’s how his sad brain works. He also is obssed with sharks and explosives, the former being given a suprisingly heartfelt and unsuprisingly insanne origin story towards the series end, and works them into every plot no matter how much itm akes no sense. He’s pure ego, pure stupid and pure fun.

So yeah circling back to him being the big bad, I felt he was made one for this season for two reasons: the first is while a lot of fans (raises hand) enjoyed this version, some didn’t like how inept he was, so this would give them a breif bit of Flintheart being a genuine threat again. The other was frankly... they didn’t want to play their hand. Lunaris WAS the big bad... but fans would get supscious if there was seemingly no true threat on the horizon. Magica popped up in episode 4. We didn’t know her full plan yet true, but all we needed was lena SAYING HER NAME and fans of any other version of teh Disney Ducks would instantly go “Oh shit there she is”. So fans would now have the expectation of a main antagonist.. but would be instantly supscious of Lunaris and Penumbra if there wasn’t one for the first third of a season it took to them, and it’d leave a gap in the story to not have someone driving the plot on earth.

So Flinty got an upgrade.. a slight one and we’ll talk about the eb and flow. And thus he got a proper origin. Now granted they could’ve planned this too, but this one’s harder to tell as the curse you me gag could’ve been a clever setup or could’ve just been a one off gag they somehow turned into an entire episode. So Flinty got an arc.. and a comedic foil, the other reason this was inevieble, and Kev’s faviorite character, Zan Owlson. So how did it work out for them? Well we’ll begin that journey under the cut.

We begin our story a few months ago.... on every level really: the months ago shadow war aired when this episode originally good, the months ago I reviwed Shadow War (which via counting I found out was my 200th episode not counting Patreon. Nice), and most importantly for this story, the four months ago before the present day of Season 2.

Glomgold saying curse you me as he fell into the bay during the Shadow War.... only for once in his life he dosen’t somehow get out of it unscathed and instead passes out, almost drowning. He’s found by Fisher and Mann, two fisherpersons... Mann is specific about that due to being a woman despite the obvious irony. It’s a good gag. Flinty acts like he normally would.. hostile, demanding that they know who he is.. and while they don’t.. neither does he.

Cue credits and cue present day. Via a newscast with Roxanne we learn what I mentioned earlier: It’s been four month and Glomgold’s been missing. The general mood.. has been about what you’d expect.

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Yeah Roxanne turned on him real fast. I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if it was because he later openly bragged about stealing scrooge’s money during the shark thing on live tv at some point, making Roxanne look terrible for enabling him and for blatantly supporting him earlier. I mean.. how else do you get a corrupt journalist to do anything decent.

But with Glomgold gone SOMEONE’S gotta replace him.. and that someone is Zan Motherfucking Owlson. Top of her class at Mouseton Univesity, Owlson is the show once again updating things: previously they added Mark Beaks to the Rogue’s Gallery as he contrasts the 50′s (scrooge ) and 80′s (glomgold) idea of billionares from previous versions of the property being a modern tech weasel. Though instead of just one thing Owlson represents a few: The most obvious is she’s a woman of color: Having a black woman in such a high position of power is something disney would’ve outright vetoed in the 50′s and 80′s. Here it’s well accepted as it always should have been. It also feels like a delebrate move on Frank’s part: There weren't’ any major african or african american coded characters in season 1, despite the show being very open and accepting, so that needed to change. The other is frankly outside of Brigtaa MacBridge, whose also weirdly absent from this series for some reason and has taken Fethry and Rockerduck’s place as the most major overseas duck character to never get adapted, there are hardly ever any females on Scrooge and his richer foes level. He’s had the occasional female rival or suitor, but only Brigittta had staying power and while I love the idea of her, another person as rich as scrooge whose willing to spend more and has a crush on him, she badly needed an update as she’s essentially Adventure Era Amy Rose in a grown ass woman’s body.

Owlson also provides a diffrent dynamic in that she portrays the ideal of what we’d want from a ceo: She’s honest, works hard, earned her way as square as scrooge did, gladly donates to charity and is extremely charismatic and intelligent. Granted most CEO”s are nothing like this but still, she’s what we WANT them to be. Using the money not for themselves or taking big paychecks but to help people. She also provides something Glomgold needed: a straight man. While he has one in Scrooge at times, Owlson unlike both of them is a fully functional resonable human being. Scrooge, while a good person deep down, can be reckless, impulsive and greedy, and Glomgold had a tarzan like experince with sharks, goes on to name his dummy son sharkbomb, and tried to murder Scrooge on live television twice that we know of. She’s the calm, snarky, put upon sane person trying to reign in the crazy shark explosion man.

Owlson dosen’t get a ton to do here, but that will change and she does get a decent amout in the final scene. But what she does here establishes who she is and how sh’es FIXED Glomgold industries; She’s shut down the vast number of money sinking scheme related departments, set ups everal charities, and is even setting up a new one with Scrooge, Dimes for Ducklings. In short she knew exactly what was needed to fix the company and it’s image and did so in FOUR MONTHS. Probably even less given they had to be sure Glomgold wasn’t coming back right away. I guarantee he’s faked his death like 10 times just to try and kill scrooge. They have to make sure it’s real first. As one last note before we move on, Owlson is played by Natasha Rothwell, a producer and writer who i’ve only seen outside of this in Love, Simon and Sonic the Hedgehog.. that is a weird combo of things that mean a LOT to me I haven’t been able to bring up here again.

We find the tv this was all playing on on the docks with a non-anthro segull pecking it while a bunch of fisherpersons go about their day. We also get this guy.

Add him to the list of spinoffs I want THE LIST OF SPINOFFS JAKE WANTS: 1. Darkwing Duck 2. Donald, Daisy and the Kids 3. The Sabrewings 4. Tailspin Reboot 5. The Flintheart Glomgold Show 6. A Sequel Movie 7. This Guy Punching A Fucking Fish

So you might be wondering when any of our main cast are going to show up.. and why the fish puncher isn’t in said main cast. Well that’s about now as Webby and Louie are fishing. Well okay more acuratley webby is fishing because she genuinely enjoys it and Louie is tagging along so he can nap on a boat while Webby paddles him around. That plan is threatnned by her spear fishing and he suggests using rods instead, but they need bait for that.

Naturally, given we need to get this plot going our heroes run into Duke Baloney, aka an amnesiac Glomgold. Understandably, both of htem think this is some sort of scheme at first because waiting for someone related to Scrooge to stroll by his fish stand for some sort of shark themed trap, especially since he’s right near the water so he dosen’t have to worry about keeping them hydrated like that time he dropped one from a plane onto scrooge’s board meeting with two chainsaws strapped to it. But .. it’s not. While we the audience saw him amnesiac, and at first I thought that spoiled the episode... it really dosen’t. He still ACTS like himself on instinct, so your not sure if he faked it as part of some elaborate scheme or is really gone till this scene shows that, no he really isn’t there. And the how is simply in knowing the guy: Glomgold is not good at subtley. He has disguises and such, but their never remotely convincing. He could NEVER pull off actually being a humble fish monger nor have gone four fucking months without yelling at scrooge or remotely contacting him. There’s also the fact Fisher and Mann 100% belivie in duke and back up his very real story of being dredged out of the bay. There’s also his south african accent, which actors including David Tennant himself have admitted is one of the hardest to pull off but Keith does swimingly, which is a hint.. but only on rewatch or for those who know his comics origins.

Louie isn’t convinced which is fair: even if Glomgold isn’t good at this sort of thing, he’s still tried it a lot. Webby however correctly figures he has amensia. So the two simply try talking to him. Fisher and Mann do get a bit dickish laughing off the idea he’s possibly Glomgold.. despite the fact you know you dredged him out of the fucking water 4 months ago.. and if you actually looked at the news, would see Glomgold disappeared around the exact same time you found Duke. It just annoys me because otherwise these two are great characters: Friendly loveable fisherpersons who love their job, have no comeptiviness and genuinely want to help their friend duke. The encounter does have them seeing a fancy money clip Duke has but with no other options they leave for now.

But while Duke has forgotten who he was... bits of glomgold still stir within him. And that starts when Duke spots the McDuck Industries fishing boat, the best fishing boat on the sea, something his friends are okay with.. but Duke naturally isn’t. So while Duke was a calm sane fisherman before the true glomgold in him is on full display as he comes up with insane schemes involving fish and explosives, before presenting a rather insane scheme to his friends involving getting engineering degrees and other stuff.. it’s as poorly drawn and wonderful as you expect from him. But what’s telling is that he reigns it in when his friends show obvious concern with his actions... something Glomgold would NEVER do. For one he dosen’t have friends. For another, he doesn’t care about anyone else’s feelings or thoughts.

By now Webby is also championing that Duke is a diffrente person.. which is true. Duke is Glomgold stripped of his hate and resitment towards scrooge. He’s who the man COULD’VE been had he not sworn eternal vengeance on Scrooge. Louie is doubtful that he’s amnesiac still.. but neither can quite figure out the full story so it’s time for research.. and for Webby to accidentally knock Louie into some lobster traps.. which given he’s spent the entire episode assuming an amnesiac man isn’t that despite all the evidence to the contrary, he earned that. That said these two were the perfect choice for it: All of the boys have a bit of skeptic in them, and we already had a plot with Huey being skeptical.. and even he would’ve given up by now as would dewey since he only has a pinch at best. Webby.. has none. She can question motives and stuff sure, but at her heart she’s a kind forgiving soul who belives the best in everyone. And.. its’ paid off fo rher. Look at the whole Lena situation, she believed in her, even while Lena was actively manipulating her,.. and it truly changed her, convinced Lena to do the right thing despite the cost, to choose love over the abusive monster who made her. It’s the only missed opportunity in the episode for me. Character wise it has exactly the 8 it needs to tell the story and focuses heavly on the five it truly is about. But not having Webby bring up Lena when we don’t hear her mentoined AT ALL during her absence (though to the shows credit they did a good job showing Webby still had never remotely given up), and it made the wait more agonizing and would’ve made her motivations hit even harder: that she belives in duke because she believed in lena and it was real. And while this thank christ isn’t remotely romantic, the point does stand: She wants to see the best.

Louie is a conman by nature so he only sees the worst, the weakest in people, the things he can use to take htem down or take hteir money. He can’t fathom someone doing good because he can’t fathom HIMSELF being good. And that.. says a lot.. but he’s accepted himself as a shady conperson who cares only for himself.. even if that’s not the truth. His inclusion here enhances his own arc much like Huey’s role in quack pack enhanced his. It shows that deep down Louie dosen’t think much of anyone.. and probably not himself. That he has to be shady and greedy to survive when that’s not tru. Sharper than the sharpies yes but also square.

One last bit before we moved on I just found out though: The Crew originally had this as a straight up origin story: no kids, none of the rest of the duck family, except presumably Scrooge’s parts here, just Glomgold’s struggle with amensia and his past leading to who hei s now. Honestly I think that version could’ve worked, but likely given disney seems TERRIFIED of making a show starring an adult without a chlid and had to be talked into the child light Golden Lagoon, that was a non starter but I think it still works fine. I also foudn this out via a twitter thread of Frank’s rewriting history that goes in deep on teh production of each episode. Had I known this existed before writing this one, I would’ve used it for the other two arcs and most dangerous game night, but I intend to read through it so I have everything on the table from here on out.

For only the second time in her long career of researching stuff though, Webby has hit a dead end. Mostly because she couldn’t find anything on Duke.. and NOTHING on Glomgold’s past pre-Duckburg. The most she has is his visa...

I want to frame this on my wall.. and someone is actually seling id cards out there, so I want this one at some point. It’s not Disney because they don’t care about fan merch like this, but then that just means they don’t get the money because they didn’t think of it or put the work in then huh.

But yeah with nothing else our heroes go to the only person they know who knows him well... Scrooge.

Meanwhile Duke has .. this... I just.....I can’t put words to this truly bizzare surreal dream sequence.. it involves Glomgold going insane, the kids dancing on a bagpipe, and owlson is there.. despite the fact that Glomgold should have zero idea whot hat is. I think the kids mentioned here but even then, he somehow knows exactly what she looks like.

Otherwise good stuff and it’s raining hard as Duke goes in. Fisher and Mann have formally added him to their sign, and warmly welcomed him in and Duke says “this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me I think” which is probably true. and makes what’s coming all the more heartbreaking.

But before what’s coming Duke has another thing coming.. Scrooge who the kids brought to talk to him. The two talk casually, the kids watch not knowing.. and then Scrooge comes back to them. Turns out Webby was, unsurprisingly right on the money, Flinty does have amnesia, and unlike what Louie thought.. he isn’t inherently evil. Duke is just duke.. and Scrooge has no intention of fixing the amnesia. And while that SOUNDS bad.. his intentions are noble: Glomgold.. was a throughly miserable person. He was never happy and never would be till Scrooge was dead by his hand and that was never going to happen. It isn’t even taking an enemy off the board: Flinty is only a threat on occasion. Scrooge clearly ENJOYS their conflict: it may annoy him from time to time, but he clearly enjoys upstaging the guy. And as he points out, it’s not a brain injury or anything: Glomgold is practically immortal as Louie put earlier, and Scrooge outright mentions Glomgold’s taken a LOT of explosions to the face. So he’s in no real danger physically or emotionally.. he’s happy. He has friends, a calling he truly enjoys. There’s another reason too but we’ll see that in the final scene.

So Duke is finally happy... but it doesn’t last... the kids go out but a storms a coming, and Duke selfleslly heads out to save them.. only to get hit on the head and fall in the ocean again.

It’s here we get the 2017 version of Glomgold’s origin story. We did kinda get one with life and times, as we saw his first meeting with scrooge and why he hated him, long story short with the long story coming later this week Glomgold left Scrooge for dead and Scrooge’s response was to come back, kick the fuckers ass, tar and feather him and utterly humilaite him, leading to Flinty swearing vengance.

But while I love that version..t his one is just as awesome if not better. And it’s without having Scrooge ride a lion. Here we instead meet Flinty as a child Scrooge’s age... and as a shoeshine boy. Yup just like Scrooge Duke, Glomgold’s birth name, was an industrious young boy with big dreams. He also had unwieldy schemes from minute one, but Scrooge saw in this lad the same fire he had and tried replicating his own origin.

The problem was... the different context ruined it. Scrooge was paid by an equally poor ditchdigger the us equilvent of his pay: still useless in scotland, but a good lesson in hard work and not being swindled. Scrooge tried that... as the richest duck in the world and without giving flinty the same amount of money.

So Duke/Flinty took umbrage at this yelled at scrooge.. and pick pocketed his money clip. In the only bit taken from the rosa version of their first meeting, Scrooge never realized he’d met flinty already. There and then duke came up with his first true, and first insane scheme: Save the money and use it to mold himself into a richer, more scottish version of scrooge dedicating his life to one upping him and killing him. A “single white female” type thing as Frank put it.

It’s.. utterly brilliant... taking Glomgold being a knockoff as mention and just running with that... making Glomgold a LITERAL knockoff. This was indeed the plan all along: A way to have him be both south african and scottish and it was brilliant. It also gives him more depth and more tragedy: He COULD’VE been the next scrooge.. but instead of being his own man or learning any of the hard lessons scrooge did he doubled down on never learning anything and getting vengeance on an old man’s well meant but accidently classist gesture.

So Glomgold reawakens and while it first looks like he’s going to save the kids... he instead throws Webby into the raging sea, and steals their fish. Webby is heartbroken and Louie asks him “what about duke.” His response is heartbreaking as it is character defnting

“I”m Flintheart Glomgold and I always will be!” the lightning shot, the cackle..i t’s just such a damn good moment that underscores the tragedy of the episode as Glomgold’s new friends are horrified by what he is now and what he was always meant to be and Glomgold leaves to go stalk scrooge once again. He indeed is Flintheart Glomgold and always will be.. because he threw the decent person he could’ve been away. He’s miserable.. because he can’t let go of his rage or ego and just move on from something that happened to him when he was ten! He has to be in his 60′s now! Glomgold may think Scrooge is his worst enemy.. but it’s really Flintheart Glomgold.... and it always will be.

So naturally his first actoin is to storm into his company and scream at scrooge. How he found him there... honestly not a huge suprise it’s his company and he likely knows how to find scrooge anywhere because he’s a creep like that. Scrooge and Owlson’s reactions are both worth a look at:

Given Glomgold bursts into an already annoying meeting of Scrooge trying to get the dimes part knocked down to nickles (and likely lower before that given he mentioned Pennies earlier), to accuse Scrooge of trying to trick him by appearing as a boat in his dreams her bafflement is both understandable and hilarious. Like she probably HEARD what Glomgold was like but gennuinely didn’t belivie it and her face is just now frozen in a look of “oh my god they were not exagearating what fresh hell is this”.

She tries to be professional and introduce herself but he just brushes her off and yells at Scrooge blaming him for being forgotten (”You literally forgot yourself), with Owlson also considering calling security. She only dosen’t because Scrooge points out he’ll tire himself out eventually and as usual for their jousts, is not remotely threatened or worried. He’s just..sad. And getting back to his reaction.. that’s what’s telling about his plan. He probably KNEW this would happen. He in his heart knew Duke Balloney would be gone soon, and he’d have to deal with Glomgold again. It helps soften the implicatoins: it wouldn’t last and fraknly if it did Scrooge would probably have people check on him regualry to make sure he was okay. He’s not a monster.. he just wanted Flinty to be happy for five minutes and to not ruin that out of some misplaced sense of right and wrong.. when the right thing was to simply let the man be happy till it inevitably blew up.

Glomgold however, furious at being forgotten and cast aside has decided to take a huge poorly thought through gamble and challenges scrooge to a classic Scrooge comics trope between the two, but with higher stakes: A contest to see who will be the richest duck in the world by the end of the year.. and given Christmas happens right after this i’m just assuming he means a year from now. Winner gets both companies and fortunes. Scrooge scoffs at this.. till Flinty pulls out the clip, taunting him with how he did it and “If I can beat you once scrooge i’ll beat you again”. And this, Flinty revealing he stole from him and he NEVER KNEW it or realize it, enrages scrooge enough to agree and to take him seriously... meanwhile Owlson.. just tries to get actual work shit done and just forges their signatures. Look she is a woman of color in the business world with genuinely good motives... she’s probably used to using white nonsense to get things past two idiots having a peeing race.

Final Thoughts:

This episode is truly excellent and like Most Dangerous Game Night! i’d forgottne just HOW good it was. The pacing, the comedy, and the character work is all on full blast and i’ve gushed plenty enough about how great an origin story is. it’s a character piece that explains why this doofus is the way he is and that is what holds him back.

Next time on MMM: Louie’s back as he pulls a ghostbusters to make quick money and Storkules starts rooming with Donald with predictable results.

If you liked this review consider joining my patreon and i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#ducktales #flintheart glomgold #scrooge mcduck #the ballad of duke balloney #webby vanderquack #louie duck #fisher #mann #fishing #weblena #disney plus #disney xd #disney channel

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xaibaugrove · 4 years

Text

An Analysis of Ellie

In honor of The Last Of Us Day, I’m finally gonna drag out this headcanon I’ve had in my drafts forever. If you choose to read this, good luck because it’s a long time.

Of course, SPOILERS AHEAD.

So, this all started with me thinking about how Ellie has suffered from survivor’s guilt ever since she discovered her immunity, when she was meant to die with her girlfriend/best friend Riley.

In that moment, Ellie had already embraced death and wanted to share it with her loved one, but that was robbed from her. She continued to live while forced to watch who might have been the first person she ever loved turn from infection. Ellie had no explanation for why that gift of immunity had been given to her. She had that gift thrust upon her by forces outside of her control. Ellie had to contend with her new existence as someone immune to the infection that had torn apart Earth’s reality, trapped in a paradox as a young teenage girl in a post apocalyptic world, until Marlene relieved her of that pressure by giving her life meaning, by giving purpose to her immunity and bestowing an important identity upon her: the savior of the human race.

Before all that, Ellie had always been just a number. She was just an orphan kid in a sea of other faceless, nameless kids in a military boarding school, without a future or special kind of destiny in a bleak world without any real meaning. Suddenly, she was a savior for all humanity and tasked with the tremendous responsibility of staying alive. She had to contend with her life having more value than others, seeing people sacrificing themselves over and over again, for her, when she had lived as a nobody for all her life until that point when everything changed.

I can imagine that that was a lot for Ellie to deal with as a teenager, a key developmental time in her life when she is just learning who she is as a person. A lot of her identity was based on not having an identity. Being trained and destined to be a nameless soldier. So when that identity was called into question, when she was smacked in the face with immunity to a virus that killed her best friend and numerous people on the planet, she needed the absurdity of her existence to be reigned in by her new title of savior of the human race.

During her journey with Joel, while the player mostly experienced the story and struggle of Joel, Ellie was struggling with her own internal issues as the secondary character. She mainly dealt with the loss of her innocence but she also still carried within her a crippling survivor’s guilt. This is very apparent after the death of Tess. In that pivotal scene in Part 1, Tess made it abundantly clear that the only reason why she was sacrificing herself was because of Ellie’s immunity, to the point of physically grabbing Ellie by the arm and pointing to the point of infection, relegating Ellie to just her immunity. Of course it wasn’t Tess’s intention to do that, but one can only wonder how Ellie absorbed that moment, another moment that helped her in defining herself. Tess wasn’t risking her life to save Ellie the person. She sacrificed herself for the immunity, the potential cure Ellie carried within her.

This assisted Ellie in defining herself by her immunity. Instead of thinking about herself and how she related to the world around her with all the contradictions of her childhood, and the relationships she formed with Joel and Sam, the people in that world, it was easier to just soldier through life with the sole goal of fulfilling her destiny. Saving the human race.

Then came the turning point in her life, when her identity was stripped from her by the very person she had come to trust and love the most.

In a way, Ellie had her autonomy taken from her by Joel and had to come to grips with that, the fact that Joel loved her and yet, hurt her deeply as a result of that love, without truly acknowledging it. In making this ultimate decision about her life for her, Joel triggered her survivor’s guilt and Ellie had no way of expressing it, 1. Because Joel lied to her about the situation and forced the conversation to be buried in that lie, and 2. Because even if she gathered the courage to confront him about the lie, she didn’t really have the cognitive ability at the time to express herself fully, to tell him exactly what was wrong with it. And maybe on some level, she didn’t really want to have the conversation and finally clarify the unspoken truth. If she did initiate the conversation, how could she be angry at him when his defense is that he did what he did out of love? What defense would an average teenager have against a parent making that statement in one of many common situations that could occur in normal settings?

Because of the decision that Joel made, he was able to be content with his surrogate daughter, living his best life in a way, while Ellie was devastated in the aftermath. And if he did notice her inner turmoil, he never addressed it. She was probably subtly carrying around that guilt with her for years. It might have even bothered her or made her hesitant to indulge in the many positive aspects of being alive: developing friendships, romantic relationships, normal childhood things. It wasn’t until Ellie was allowed to stew on it, contemplate everything and allow the guilt to fester within her that she was able to finally muster up the courage to have that difficult conversation with Joel.

In yet another pivotal scene, this time in Part 2, she gave him another chance to confess to what she suspected was a lie for multiple years when she was met with another trigger of her survivor’s guilt, during the reluctant excursion she embarked upon with Joel in search of strings for the guitar he made for her. In that scene, she questions him, counters his excuses and challenges him. Ellie gave Joel the chance to be honest with her. And his choice was to dig his heels in deeper, lying to her face once again. When watching Ellie’s expressions after Joel silenced her protests, so much can be seen in the way she looks at him for a moment.

She looks at him and thinks of how many things he has done to make her happy, out of love for her, and the immense contradiction she feels with those acts of love when compared to the greatest pain he inadvertently inflicted on her as well as the continuation of that pain through him perpetuating the lie. She gave him another chance and he betrayed her trust again. When Ellie looks away from Joel, her expression then reveals her innermost thoughts. Her eyes search the void between them to see that Joel will never admit to the lie and the only way for her to reinforce what she believes is the real truth is for her to seek out the answers herself. So she does.

When he did finally confess to everything, it broke her with not only how indifferent he was to it, but how he had destroyed any chance she could have of fulfilling her purpose. It possibly even reaffirmed the suspicions in the back of her mind that questioned his love for her due to how much he had hurt her without apologizing even once for it and how much he had taken from her in the process. The validity of all their past interactions were suddenly called into question as well, because although Joel did those things to make Ellie happy, every happy moment was always undercut by the tremendous amount of guilt she carried that outweighed the happier moments for her as her entire life was worthless to her, from the moment Joel removed her from that hospital.

After that revelation, her sense of self was thrown into limbo. Ellie severed her relationship with Joel and went back to Jackson with no idea of how to truly carry on with her life and live with herself after that. In order to appease herself in some way, she regained some type of control in navigating their relationship from that point on. Before, their relationship hinged entirely on how Joel wanted to interact with her, with him approaching her to progress their father-daughter relationship after he removed her agency by making choices for her. Post their argument at St. Mary’s, it’s important to note that Ellie assumed control and eliminated that progression entirely. A consolation prize, a reclamation of her agency in life. But it was never enough.

Regardless, things continued on like that for some time, but then something happened that shifted the trajectory of Joel and Ellie’s relationship. On a night when Ellie attended a party, she happened to find herself possibly feeling grateful for being alive when her longtime best friend expressed interest in her and made an advance toward her.

After Joel intervened in a conflict between her and a dumbass bigot, she angrily went to confront him. She continued to exercise her control in their relationship by coming down hard on him. Her anger about everything was very apparent during their confrontation later that night and one can see that she still felt like her life was technically meaningless without her death for the sake of a cure for the salvation of the human race. During that scene she finally expresses exactly how she feels, what she hadn’t been able to articulate for years.

It’s important to note that before she says any of that, Joel disarms her. Joel asked her about the simplest of things, if Dina was her girlfriend. Then he placed an importance on her existence, by saying that Dina would be lucky to have her, which I believe Ellie thought about for a split second. She ruminated on her feelings, on how a potential romantic relationship with Dina made her feel happy to be alive, as it wouldn’t have been possible if she had died in the hospital. And this thought, that Joel could have been right to save her, that she could possibly agree with him, caused her survivor’s guilt to spiral and she lashed out at him with all the emotions she felt since he first agreed to smuggle her across the country years ago.

Then, in a turning point in their dynamic, Joel is finally forthright with her when he responds to her frustration by stating that he would do it all over again. As a result, for the first time ever, Ellie feels as though she can finally understand his motivations and the validity of his love for her. In his honesty, he tells her that her life does have value to him, even if she can’t see that herself. And although she will never forgive him for his transgression or fully understand it because she doesn’t see her own value as a person aside from the potential cure she carries within herself along with her immunity, she realizes that she can’t stop herself from wanting... From wanting to live, from wanting to experience the joys of life, wanting to just be human. Joel introduces a new purpose to her life, to simply exist without purpose and be herself and find value in her life as just a person living it. She can’t erase the past and change Joel’s choices that directly affected her in the end, but she can choose to try his suggestion. To live life, despite her guilt and despite how afraid she feels to do it. This late night moment of vulnerability between a father and daughter opens the door to them possibly repairing what was broken 4 years ago.

Her entire world is then shattered when Abby slams that door shut by killing Joel. Just when Ellie was setting down the path of finding the strength to move on and repair their relationship. Her survivor’s guilt was triggered and sent into overdrive by this event, because once she discovered that the people who killed Joel were ex-Fireflies, she came to the conclusion that Abby killed Joel in retaliation to him removing Ellie from the hospital and killing any hopes of a cure, along with all the Fireflies in the hospital. This essentially caused Ellie to believe that Joel was killed because of her in a roundabout way, as he would have still been alive if he hadn’t saved her, further enforcing her belief that her ultimate destiny in life was to die in that hospital. In Ellie’s mind, Joel died for a pointless reason, because she viewed herself as worthless.

Since she and Joel were the only ones who carried the secret of what really happened at St. Mary’s, there was no one else who could blame her or punish her for his death. Abby punished someone who didn’t deserve the blame and let Ellie go, leaving her to deal with the aftermath and that survivor’s guilt. In Ellie’s mind, it should have been her, but there was no way for her to have swapped herself in Joel’s place. So she punished herself in a different way. This sends her down her path of addiction to self-destruction.

Ellie had no way of punishing herself for her immunity for all those years, for surviving while others died for her. Abby provided an outlet for this desire. Ellie pursued Abby under the guise of getting justice for Joel but more can be ascertained from her constant push to find Abby, in her constantly doing things that go against her better nature, committing horrible acts and torturing people, debasing herself and pushing away those who love her or even putting them in danger while simultaneously traumatizing herself all at once. With every murder she committed, with every wound she sustained, she was punishing herself for being alive.

Each wound she suffered during that pursuit was like a high for her, an adrenaline rush. Each time she damaged her mental state even further with a new murder of one of Abby’s friends, she reinforced the belief that she deserved all of this for surviving. She deserved all the pain for being the cure, for being immune and benefiting from it while the world and everyone in it suffered. This is why Ellie can’t let go, even after her first encounter with Abby.

It was easy for Ellie to spiral in that self-destructive cycle. She punished herself for Joel’s death by pursuing Abby, which caused her closest friends to suffer because they were connected to her hunt for justice. Even when it all seemed to be over and Ellie tried to change. Tommy nearly died and wound up crippled and separated from his wife because of her and even JJ wound up without a father due to Jesse dying while helping her in her pursuit of Abby. This all contributed to her revisiting the same destructive path when Tommy accused her of not following through after all he had lost for her. Tommy started her self-punishment with that accusation. And once Ellie had the chance to think it all over, it was easy for her to return to the same bad habits. This is why she leaves and continues to pursue Abby, steeling herself against a near-fatal abdominal injury, doing whatever it takes to get to her, lying to herself this time, by telling herself all the while that it is in service of Joel. To repay his life that was taken from him. To even out the injustice.

Ellie realizes this lie when she is mere seconds away from exacting her revenge by drowning Abby in the ocean. Joel’s face flashes across her mind, of him during that night when he told her that her life had value. She realizes in that moment that killing Abby will not bring her peace, because the motivation behind the act is a lie. It will not give her life value or meaning, or purpose. Because her life already has value. Outside of a cure, outside of her immunity, outside of her saving humankind. Her life has value because of who she is, not what she can give to the world. And Ellie finally realizes that she must accept this to be whole. Killing Abby won’t help her do this...so she lets her go. She watches the boat leave as she sits in the ocean tides ebbing and flowing around her, thinking of how broken she is, how much she has lost and if she can bring herself back from the brink to find value in the meaningless existence she believed her life was for so long.

When she revisits the farm and contemplates all this while holding a guitar that she’ll never be able to play again, she recalls that memory, when Joel reminded her of her value. In that final scene, she realized that Joel was the first person in her life who didn’t see her for her immunity. Joel saw Ellie for who she was and saw value in her as a person. To such a degree that he was willing to risk all of humanity to keep her alive. She was then able to forgive him and know that he truly did love her for her, something no one else had ever done before him. And if he could love her for her, maybe she could learn to do the same.

#the last of us day #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel tlou #riley tlou #dina tlou #headcanon

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heartsandmuses · 4 years

Text

tiktok famous

for @stonyweek 2020 // prompt: “social media”

steve rogers/tony stark. rated g. 1.8k. universe: mcu.

Two months after the rest of the team gets TikTok, Steve finally caves and makes an account of his own.

He doesn’t tell anyone though, because while his grasp on technology is better than what most would assume, part of the fun is letting people think he’s completely helpless. It’s made for some pretty amusing afternoons, between Clint trying to teach him for an hour straight exactly how to empty the recycle bin on his laptop and Bruce attempting to talk him through uploading a photo onto his Google Drive, and Steve figures that the team’s exasperation at his supposed tech incompetency might make for a few good videos.

And it does — his popularity soars seemingly overnight, and it’s only a matter of days before people start to catch on to the fact that Captain America’s making TikToks now and barely a week before he’s amassed hundreds of thousands of followers.

Unfortunately, that means the team’s caught on too.

It’s a bit of a disappointment that he can’t continue to be—as Clint would say—a troll, now that they know he’s not as much of an old man as previously thought, but there’s still plenty else he can do on the app. In the week after his account gets verified, Steve isn’t sure how many videos he gets dragged into, but between all the dance covers Natasha teaches him, all the easy food hacks Bruce does, and all the workouts Thor records, he’s certain that he’s made an appearance in well over a hundred drafts for the other Avengers’ profiles.

Not that he minds all that much. It gives him a chance to explore the full scope of TikTok in a way he probably wouldn’t on his own.

— — —

It’s Peter who introduces Steve to the concept of TikTok “challenges,” which, really, consist of anything ranging from simple choreography to lighthearted pranks, and Steve takes it upon himself to scroll through the kid’s profile for some fresh ideas.

It’s a slow weekend anyway, no missions planned or battles to fight, and the renovations in the gym thanks to Hulk’s latest tantrum means that all team training sessions are cancelled until next week. Outside, rain patters against the windows of the common room; the TV’s on low, playing a rerun of some competitive cooking show that Tony, sprawled out on the other side of the couch, fell asleep in front of, having lost interest about halfway through. Steve smiles as he lets his gaze trace over Tony’s profile—his messy hair, the curve of his nose, the way his eyelashes fan over his cheeks—and when his eyes finally turn back towards his phone...

Steve blinks.

Because the next video he lands on is tagged #KissYourBestFriendChallenge. And if he happened to miss the tiny print at the bottom of the screen, a text bubble pops up in the first few seconds with exactly the same words.

The video starts off innocently enough, with Peter and Ned laughing and joking around in what Steve assumes is Peter’s bedroom, both of them sitting on the floor with a half-finished Lego Death Star between them. Steve has the volume turned on low, but he can still hear Ned’s breathy Vader impression, as he holds up one of the figurines and walks it along the carpet. Peter laughs, and when his gaze shifts from the Lego figurine back up to Ned’s face, bright and beaming, his grin softens at the edges, expression turning into something much more... wistful and wanting and affectionate.

Something smitten.

Ned’s gaze meets Peter’s once again, and he trails off in the middle of his sentence when he sees him leaning in, closer and closer until their lips finally meet. It’s a tender kiss, a hesitant one, but Ned pulls away after a moment, partly in surprise and partly to search Peter’s face, a look of— of astonishment, of realization, coming over his own. And just like that, he leans back in and kisses him silly, smiling against Peter’s mouth.

Steve’s heart clenches, his eyes drifting back down to the bottom of the screen, and right next to the extensive list of hashtags, the caption reads: he feels the same way, followed by a row of heart emojis.

He’s known for a while that Peter’s been going out with Ned, but Steve had no idea that this is how they got together, and as he thinks about that look of mutual longing that they’d shared, he can’t help but glance back over at Tony, still blissfully asleep and snoring soundly.

— — —

Steve can’t get the idea out of his head.

It might have something to do with the fact that he’s spent the past few days going through the hashtag, watching as people have their dreams come true or—equally as often—dashed. But Steve’s a strategist, he needs to consider all possible outcomes before he can start to even plan, and while there’s a very large, very scared part of him that wants to call the whole thing off before it can even really begin, he knows, deep in his gut, that no better opportunity would ever present itself to tell Tony how he feels.

Steve’s brave, but he’s not the kind of brave that can go up to his best friend directly and confess his love to him. He’s learned that lesson all too well from silently pining around Bucky for the better part of a decade, and Steve knows he won’t be able to go through the same thing again. Even if Tony does reject him—which is a possibility he’s certainly preparing himself for—at least he’ll know for sure that he doesn’t have a chance, instead of being stuck in the familiar limbo of wondering and wanting and hoping.

And if that does happen, if Tony turns him down, Steve’s reassured by the fact that he can play it off as a joke, say it was all just for the challenge. That’s been his biggest concern in the past, whenever he would consider taking the leap and asking Tony out, the risk of something shattering between them. Their friendship, their closeness, what they have right now — none of it is worth throwing away just because Steve can’t tamp down his desire.

He’s thrown himself into some hastily thought-out plans in the past, but this one feels pretty foolproof.

— — —

Steve isn’t sure how it’s possible, really, but there’s just something about the sight of Tony laughing—crow’s feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes, lips curling into a grin—that makes him about ten times more handsome than he usually is. It’s just as heart-stopping as it is distracting, and it takes a good five minutes for Steve to even remember why he’d come down to the lab in the first place.

Officially, the excuse he gave Tony is that he needs some input on which TikTok to post next; unofficially, Steve’s just trying to calm his racing heart as he watches his best friend go through the entirety of his drafts folder, trying to muster up every ounce of courage he has, for one little moment. One little kiss.

“I think this one’s a real winner,” Tony says, turning the phone back towards Steve, and on the screen is a time-lapse of him sketching the Tower. He has a few others like that up on his profile already, quick little drawings of the common room or of the team, and Steve realizes with some embarrassment that if Tony went into his camera roll he would find more than a few real-time recordings of Steve sketching full pages of those warm, brown eyes and those long, fanning eyelashes. “The pranks and storytimes are fun and all, but I like the videos of your art the best.”

There’s such a startling sincerity in his words that it makes Steve’s heart skip a beat. He feels warm and nervous all at once, stomach churning and palms sweating, and he gets so lost in the adoring look in Tony’s eyes that he doesn’t notice for a long moment how close they really are. And it doesn’t stop, either. They just keep getting closer and closer and—

Steve’s leaning in, he realizes. He’s leaning in and he can see Tony’s tongue dart out to wet his lips, can see Tony’s gaze dropping to Steve’s mouth, can see a flicker of want in his eyes, pure and desperate, and that’s all Steve needs to know before he kisses him.

For days all he could imagine were the countless ways that Tony might let him down gently, pulling back with a laugh and a friendly squeeze to his shoulder, shaking his head and telling him that they’re better off as friends. But Tony doesn’t do any of that. He kisses back almost instantly, hands coming up to cup Steve’s cheeks, and Steve absolutely melts into the touch. It’s sweet and gentle and perfect, and now that he doesn’t have to worry about playing it off as a prank anymore, he pours everything he’s feeling into it — everything he’s been feeling, for all these years. All of his longing, his fondness, his desire.

All of his love.

The kiss seems to last somewhere between a second and an eternity, and when he finally pulls back to look into Tony’s eyes, he can see it all, every thought and feeling written out so clearly in his expression, a picture-perfect mirror of his own. Steve smiles, as a rush of relief fills his chest, and he can’t help but lean in again, just as his heart flutters and his stomach swoops and he thinks, with absolute certainty, he feels the same way.

— — —

JARVIS catches the entire exchange on video for him, along with the elated and impromptu make-out session that had ensued immediately afterwards, and while Steve plays back the footage of that initial kiss at least a hundred times, smiling stupidly at his phone, he doesn’t upload it.

It just feels too... intimate, too personal, for the rest of the world to see, at least right now. Steve just wants to keep the moment—and Tony—to himself for a little longer, and so, what he posts instead is the time-lapse of him drawing the large, looming Tower and the cityscape surrounding it.

— — —

Days later, he posts another sped-up sketch. This time, it’s one of Tony, with that big, gorgeous grin, that familiar twinkle in his eyes; it’s the exact expression that came over his face after Steve had kissed him, and it feels good, committing it not only to memory, but to paper as well.

But his followers aren’t completely clueless, he knows that, and it’s over the next few weeks—during which Steve gets a little more confident in uploading his drawings of Tony—that they begin to suspect something might be going on between the two of them.

Steve, of course, never outright confirms nor denies their claims, though he does, three months into their relationship, film that “walk into the room naked and record your boyfriend’s reaction” challenge, and that pretty much says it all.

#stony week 2020 #stonyweek #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #otp: put on the suit #ficlets #fics #my fics #my writing #mine #amy talks

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rockofeye · 3 years

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Out of the depths.

It is somehow appropriate that a re-emergence and re-alignment comes with the beginning of the month of May. May is a big month for vodouizan; we celebrate Kouzen and all his family this month and, for people from Jacmel, it is a month devoted to celebrating Jacmel's heritage, which is tied closely to Kouzen. It is said Jacmel is where Kouzen was from before he went to more rural areas; it's not a coincidence that fet Jacmel and fet St Jacques e St Philippe (the patrons of Jacmel) are celebrated on the same days as fet Kouzen (May 1 and May 2).

I've been thinking about Kouzen a lot lately. It's been a difficult year in a lot of ways, but not a bad year. COVID has really permanently changed how things in my professional field work, and with the help of Kouzen and a few of my other lwa, I managed to leverage that into a position using all my professional strengths with the org that has been my target for employment for years. Landing that has not only been life-changing and future-solidifying, but really reinforces that I know what I know and that I am an expert at what I do.

That's a lesson that comes from Kouzen, and it's one that I struggle to learn and remember in my life. Kouzen shows me balance: he is the expert worker in his field (literal and figurative), but you might never know that from how he does his work. Underestimate him and you'll find out, but how he carries himself keeps his mastery of work and growth and agriculture from being the first thing that you see.

I'm pretty okay with that part, but that's the part I get tripped up about. I don't find anything fulfilling professionally or personally about illustrating what I know,, but there is a difference between going about your business and actively hiding from those moments where you can insert who you are and what you know.

I'm a hider. It might sound kind of funny coming from someone who has been writing a blog in the internet for close to a decade, but it's true: I am actually pretty shy and private and being the center of attention--professional or personal--is kind of horrifying to me. I've reached the point in my life where I don't feel I have a lot to prove because I know what I know, but in many ways that's just not possible for me. I don't work in a field where I can just close my office door and have it all be fine, and the lwa have made clear time after time that I cannot just ride off into Ginen with them and live a private life.

This has something that is always a struggle for me because I am introverted and like my alone space and time. It comes back to the good ol' lessons the lwa want me to learn over and over: balance and vulnerability. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes I react like a cat thrown into a bathtub full of water. The lwa win some, I lose some.

I had to get my ass in gear with the notions of balance and putting myself out there and being vulnerable in knowing my worth and demanding (politely) that it be recognized when I found myself completely dissatisfied with my job(s). I was working two jobs (houngans and manbos know about that hustle...) and making good money, but I was ready to work one job and free up time for spiritual work and projects.

I took a chance and applied for a job that was juuuuust within my experience. It was definitely bigger than what I was doing and while it was within my experience level, I honestly wasn't perfectly qualified....but you miss 100% of the shots you don't take, so I buffed up the resume, sent it off, and sat with my lwa about it. I told them that if this was where I was supposed to go next, I knew they would clear the way.

I didn't get it.

I made it through two rounds of interviews, but ultimately there was an incumbent with 10 more years of experience than I have, and that's almost always a losing equation. I was okay with it because I still had work and at the end of the day, I don't have to love my job to cash the paychecks.

BUT....the lwa had another plan. The team of interviewers liked me, and so I got headhunted for a position that was very, very in line with my professional experience and goals. I spoke with them several times about it and they made me an offer....and it was so low I almost rejected the offer outright.

I was both angry and scared at the same time; angry because the salary offer was ridiculously offensive based on my career history and scared because I have never been in a position to turn down a job offer or, honestly, negotiate.

This time was the first time in my life that I was planning to leave a job because I wanted to. I grew up in a upper working class home and as an adult have spent too much time jobless and underemployed to discount steady work and a regular paycheck. It was scary as hell to be staring down the possibility of kicking the steady paycheck to the side in favor of taking a step into the unknown.

When I got the offer letter, I sat down with the lwa and literally cried because I was so burned out with my other job that it was affecting my performance, but here I was getting a bullshit offer for a hugely involved job. It felt like a loss if I took it and affirmed that both my experience and what they were asking of me was only worth what they were offering. It felt like a loss if I didn't take it, because those opportunities do not come alone like that very often.

It was such a moment of unique despair. Like, I was not hurt or anything tragic but that feeling like I was painted into a corner and that the choices in front of me would leave me at a loss was HUGE and real. For me, when I feel like that it's hard for me to turn on the part if my brain that's analytical. I just need to sit in my misery for a minute (or more) until I get it together enough to figure out what to do.

That is where the blessing of Kouzen (and really all the lwa) came in. He told me to go back to the table, creat another option, and ask for my worth. Like, not swing my proverbial dick and be an asshole, but go be vulnerable and say that the offer was disappointing and that I expected more. So weird because it makes so much sense, right? And yet there I was totally sold that I was either going to be worked like a mule for less money than I was making already, or I was going to remain in The Bad Place until something else came along.

So I did. Even if I felt pessimistic about it (I did) and thought they would say no (convinced of it), I did what I was told because at the end of the day I agreed to sèvis lwa because I believe in the vision the lwa have for me. Some days I say that through gritted teeth, but that's my guiding principle and they have never let me down.

I sent in my counteroffer and waited for the 'we're sorry, but..' email. It was fucking scary. My agency is a behemoth in my field and has been around forever, so pushing back felt a little bit like David versus Goliath, and I didn't have the benefit of a sling and a rock.

It took two days but they got their offer almost to what I asked for, so I took it and it was a huge relief. I am sure that somewhere in the background Kouzen maybe did a quiet fist pump of 'Alex learned a thing' before going back to his work.

In all seriousness, that's a lesson I have struggled so hard with and it was a moment where I had to put it all into practice and rely on what the lwa have taught me as being an ultimate truth. Knowing my worth is not enough; I have to be able to communicate that in a way that both opens doors and doesn't get me used as a doormat. Not doing that seems like it would be almost offensive to Kouzen because, at least in this case, it would be essentially leaving money on the table and wasting it. My Kouzen is very rational about money, but the idea of not trying to set up my financial future makes his eyes bug out and would probably result in Having To Have A Conversation, which I avoid at all costs. Nothing like the lwa reminding you not to fuck up your own blessings.

Getting settled into this particular blessing has been what has been occupying my time the most these days. I came back from Haiti and went right into this job. I have finally clawed my way into administration and, in a very Kouzen twist, am responsible for managing several million dollars worth of grants and spending them both quickly and wisely. I work closely with the person in the position I originally interviewed for and am really happy I didn't get that job, as I am able much better fit where I am.

What else? In late January, I turned in a final draft of a chapter I was tapped to write for a book detailing the experiences of people who are converts to African Traditional and Diasporic religions. I'm excited to see the book when it comes out; I was the only writer on Haitian Vodou, and so it is chock full of other experiences from people from all different places who converted at some point in their life to a huge variety of African and African Descended religions and cultural practices. It's a project that has been in the works for several years, and it was interesting to see personal growth during my involvement in it and while tracking and detailing my journey from a fairly conservative Protestant upbringing to where I am now as a sèvitè lwa.

My living situation has changed up in the middle of this and I am once again at a point in my life where I have a dedicated space for my lwa. Living in one of the most expensive cities in the US has meant roommates and keeping my lwa in a closet in my room (my most recent roommate lovingly referred to them as the Closet People), but the lwa managed to swing it so I have a room dedicated to my spirits.

I have longing for that for so long...it's been years since that was a reality, and now it's finally a thing again. I always have the room for my lwa as my studio space too, since they are a creative force behind a lot of it, and it make my heart so full again to have room to spread out. It's such a gift for me. No more sitting down to pray and having my roommate start to have sex with their partner on the other side of the wall....I cannot tell you how many times that has happened.

Recently I listened to my mother tell some folks how to make tchaka/Kouzen's favorite meal. The regleman/ritual food is one of the most important parts of both ceremony and personal relationships with the lwa, and Kouzen reminded me that it had been quite awhile since I made him tchaka and boy his stomach would feel so much better with some tchaka in it and I already had a lot of the ingredients and wouldn't it be delicious to make some doumbrey for the tchaka too?

...so I went shopping for what I would need for tchaka for my beloved Kouzen because I have clearly neglected his stomach for too long. Living in a city with a huge Haitian population is great because the Haitian grocery store I went to had joumou/Haitian pumpkin, lalo sèk/dried jute leaves, tritri/tiny dried shrimp, djondjon/Haitian black mushrooms, fresh kowosol/soursop(!!!!!), and fresh lam veritab/breadfruit(!!!!!!!!!!).

It is so rare to find fresh kowosol and lam up here in New England because it def doesn't grow here and it doesn't last well when it's shipped....but it looked great today. The kowosol is going to be for me...ji kowosol ak lèt is a favorite, ESPECIALLY with a little Barbancourt poured in...and Kouzen will either get some tomtom or at least boiled lam veritab with his tchaka. Also have the makings of some bonbon siwo, so this husband is gonna eat GOOD. He deserves it.

And then...? Our live-on-Zoom socially distanced fet Kouzen will be sometime late in May. Making our fets available for folks to 'attend' at a distance has been surprisingly cool. I was not thrilled about the idea because of my personal hangups (I hate being on camera) but it's been really wonderful and has been a way for people who can't get to the temple to be able to share energy and get a taste of what a real Haitian fet is like. COVID isn't going away anytime soon, so we'll probably keep doing our fetes this way for awhile.

And...Haitian Summer is coming. I could write another whole post on what's going on down in Haiti, but I am very much looking forward to our kanzo and fet cycle this summer. My very favorite ceremonies are part of kanzo, and I love the opportunity to see the lwa in their home in the temple. I've been so lucky to be able to travel safely to Haiti several times during this mess, and it has fed my soul. It's safer for me and many of my family members now that we are vaccinated, so one less thing to worry about.

With Kouzen's month and the season of spring, I hope for growth in new directions for each of you, complete with all the blessings that Kouzen can bring: fertility and fecundity, inspiration, energy, commitment, rootedness, solid partnerships, and wise investments in self, community, relationships, and business ventures. May the fresh breeze bring you health with every breath and wealth with every exhale.

#vodou #haitian vodou #kouzen #kouzen zaka #azaka mede #fet kouzen #manje lwa #real vodou #voodoo

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