#once again casual stylings cripple me
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Competition Entry - Summer’s Here
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Chapter One
The Bear & His Honey
Summary: Carmy + Winnie meet, He obviously tries to weasel his way into her heart by cooking for her.
A/N: Eeeep! I am sooo excited to be writing again, i've written fic's since like 2010 & stopped for quite a while, But Carmen has awoken the beast in me once more LOL !!! It's not without much thanks and love to @daysofyellowroses - Her encouragement & excitement for my ideas has inspired me in the most beautiful way. Give her a follow please! Her fic's genuinely are sososooooooo good that they made me want to start writing myself again, The theme and overall organization of her works is immaculate, I admire her works so much! I highly encourage any Carmy lover to take a look!! She is also such a doll!! And so so sooo sweet!!!
Anyhow, I love longer fics - this chapter is nearing 6k words & it initially started as a one shot, so reader be warned I am very wordy!
Warnings; Cursing, ehh I think thats it? Oh! Smoking Cigarettes & The green stuff, but thats all! *We will be getting VERY spicy, angsty, and sickeningly fluffy in this story - if that isn't your cup, ask me anything if you like my style! I am only writing for Carm at this second, but I will be writing ACOTAR & likely other things as I wet my pallate - it's been years for me, but if you have an idea that you want to throw my way, or just wanna talk (even if you just need someone!) I'm here for you peeps! Without further ado- let the show begin.
(Comments + Reblogs + Kind critiques are not only appreciated, but heavily encouraged!)
𝒞𝒽𝑒𝒸𝓀 𝒪𝓊𝓉 𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉!
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One
I took a deep breath, the dry, late winter air sticking my nostrils together momentarily- fuck. I hate this god-damned weather. I shuffle across the street, my boots mushing through the late-winter Chicago slush. I slosh into the alley, my boots squelching with every step. I trudge across the street, nearly gagging at every soggy step, feeling my socks ever so slowly become wet.
I sludge my way finally to the (god-blessed, shoveled) alley across the way, that connected The Next Page to the street in front of it, and hear a muttered “fuck” & my eyes lift from the locked spot on my salty, wet boots. They meet the side-profile of an undeniably handsome curly dirty blonde male, my eyes rolling, as he pats his pockets down. I assume he forgot his light.
As I approached him, I piped up. “Missin’ somethin’?” I flick my pink lighter to life with my thumb, My eyes meeting his large blue ones. He leans forward, gently lighting his cigarette between my thumb and the flame. “Thanks” he muttered, sucking on the cigarette between his lips, his eyes locked on me.
“Y’ smoke?” he questioned. I shook my head gently, “Not cigarettes, but I’m bout’ to eat, s’why not?” I slipped the small tin from my pocket, pulling a shorty from the box. I put it between my lips, leaning in close, touching the joint tip to the burning end of his cigarette gently, and took a slow drag once it was fully lit.
“Work here?” I motion at the building next to us with my chin, smoke spilling from my lips as I speak. His white t-shirt made me guess he could be a line cook or a bus boy at the restaurant that had been crowding the block the past few months. He nodded, a large puff of smoke leaving his lips, the edges of his lips upturning a bit into a smile.
“Mhmm, own it.” he said casually, taking another drag, my eyebrows raising. “Hmm,” I hummed, smoke puffing from my nose obviously in the winter air. “Wow, from the shirt- thought you’re a busboy, quite the humble owner mm’?” I teased, a smile dancing on my lips as I pulled another puff of my joint. “Yea- guess so” he teased, shrugging lightly.
“My boss comes by once in a blue moon, so either you’re a grade-A asshole, or have crippling OCD and you think your business is gonna fail.” I teased, blowing smoke past his left as I leaned against the brick wall. He chuckled, “Alright, well- Sugar says I’m OCD whatever the fuck that means, so you got me” he shrugged. I laughed. “I can so see it, what’s your name?” I asked.
His eyes flutter to my lips, before meeting my eyes again. “Carmen.” He replied, putting his cigarette back to his lips and taking a deep drag. “Winnie..” I replied nibbling the inside of my lip gently. Carmen. Carmen. Carmen. The word echoed in my mind like an invocation. “Winnie” he repeated, smoke spilling from his lips in tendrils.
“Full name?” He questioned. A heat rose to my cheeks and I rolled my eyes, gaze flicking to my sneakers as I took another drag of my joint. “Winnow. Shut up, if you laugh, I’ll cut off your dick. My parents were never married, not sure what they were thinking.” I mutter, the tips of my ears heating in embarrassment. “Mmm” he hummed.
I look back up at him, “No slick comments?” I asked, genuinely surprised. He shrugged. “Winnow is pretty, people make fun of that?” He questioned, dropping the mostly burnt cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his chef's clog. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “A dude named Carmen, not used t’ people pokin’ at your name?” my glance meets his.
His arms were now crossed over his chest, his delicious biceps becoming more prominent. “Go by Carm, mostly” he shrugged. Carm. “Hmm.” I hummed. “Carm. Suits you.” I said, my eyes grazing over the tattoos adorning his arms. “Yeah?” his tongue grazed his lips, a smirk pulling at the corners.
“Mhhmm” I reach out, my finger brushing over the ‘773’ on his arm. “From ‘round here huh?” I questioned, my eyes meeting his blue ones once more. “Ye’, east side” he said, to which I nodded. “Sorry, don’t know too much, from New York.” I said, my arms crossing over my own chest.
“Yeah? Where about? Did culinary school out there.” he replied. “Rochester” I nod, my accent coming out slightly. “Ah, alright. Like yourself a garbage plate?” he teased. I laughed, a real laugh, something few and far between these days. “Wow, so you really went to school out there eh’? I do actually, know how that came to?” I asked my fingers finding a loose string on my jacket to fiddle with.
“Not at all, thought it was a myth- you really eat that shit out there?” he joked. I giggled. “Don’t make me hit you, Yes! We do, so story goes, frat guys stumble all drunk in to Nick Tahoes, and they tell the line cook to give ‘em the plate with ‘all the garbage’ on it. And so, since it was closing time, they took all the carby leftovers they were gonna throw out, and threw em on a plate- the guys loved it” he grimaced playfully “eugh! Guys never heard of a burger?”
I laughed again “there is a burger, Carm! mmm,” I hum my eyes closing and head falling back at the memory of such a comfort meal. “oh my god, mac salad, cold! Has to be cold, Carm, then you do baked beans,” I paused at his brows furrowing “Don’t look at me like that, asshole” I shove his shoulder playfully, earning a chuckle.
“No- nope keep on explaining your… catastrophe” he teased, I gasped, feigning a shot to the heart. “Wow, Carmy, you know how to flatter a girl huh? Insulting the indigenous dish of her homeland?!” I joked, causing him to really laugh. A beautiful sound I wanted to hear more often. “Ok, ok, so then you add the homefries, then - the house chilli, ohhh my god!” I groaned my head falling back “Soo, so good, then, you add on a burger patty, or a hotdog, or both if you feel frisky” he laughed again, his eyes crinkling adorably.
“How often do you feel frisky mm? Or are you a more tame girl?” he teased. I smacked the side of his jaw gently with a large bashful smile adorning my lips, “Carmen! You do not ask a lady how often she gets frisky!” I giggled, poking his muscular chest gently. “Ok, ok, keep going- or is that the end of the abomination?” he questioned and I dug my knuckle into his chest playfully.
“Nope!! Then you add chopped onions, ketchup, and mustard!!” I grinned and he grimaced jokingly. “Holy Jesus, your breath could knock out an army after that I’d bet” he teased earning another true laugh from me. “I swear, you own his place? If you thought you were busy before- add a garbage plate to the menu, and you’ll be rich, Carmen” I adjusted the Saint Anthony chain around his neck gently, so the pendant was facing front.
His cheeks got a bit flushed. “Well, i’m makin’ a new dessert menu, if you wanted to come in and check it out, How bout’ I make you a garbage plate, well, the Carmen-Garbage plate, we don’t do chilli here, but I think you’ll like what I pull together” he offered.
I took another drag of my joint, contemplating. “Alright. Shops been slow today so, Mel won’t notice if I sneak an extra few minutes in” i put out the nub on the wall, before dropping it and crushing it under the toe of my boot.
“C’mon” he nods, pulling open the large metal door that leads into the kitchen.
Read Chapter 2 Here!
#The Bear#the bear hulu#carmen berzatto#carmen berzatto fanfiction#carmy berzatto#carmy berzatto fanfiction#the bear fanfiction#the bear hulu fanfiction#jeremy allen white#jeremy allen white fanfiction#carmy berzatto x oc#carmen berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#the bear fic#the bear fx#carmy#im so scared pls tell me if this is any good LOL#thank you for reading ily#you are amazing never forget it
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GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6
While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.
ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)
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The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.
The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.
Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”
“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.
“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”
Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”
“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”
“Huh.”
Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”
Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”
“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”
The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”
“Both it is!”
Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.
“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”
Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.
Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”
“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”
“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”
Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”
“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”
“He might not.”
“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”
“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”
Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”
“Good.”
“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.
Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.
But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.
“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.
Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”
“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.
“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.
“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”
“Good for you.” Stan grunted.
“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”
Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”
“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.
“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…
“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.
“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.
Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”
Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.
Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.
Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.
What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.
Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”
They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.
“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.
Still no answer.
Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.
Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.
“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.
“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”
Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”
The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”
“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”
Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.
“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”
Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”
“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.” She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”
Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”
“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”
Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”
“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”
“Was he okay?” Stan asked.
“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”
“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”
The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone.
Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”
Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.”
Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry.
To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”
The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.
Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.
Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.
It only lasted another minute.
Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.
Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.
The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.
Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.
But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too.
So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.
~~~~~~~~~~
Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”
The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.
That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.
“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor.
“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.
“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”
“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”
“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”
“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.
~~~~~~~~~~
In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.
“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”
“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”
“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”
“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”
“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”
“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”
“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”
“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”
“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”
“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”
Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.
“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”
Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.
#GF#gravity falls#gravity falls au#timestuck au#fanfiction#stanford pines#stanley pines#mabel pines#dipper pines#angst#why did i write this?#cuz fuck you that's why#I HAD TO I’M SORRY#pls don't hate me
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History Repeats (Part 7)
Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?
Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)
Word Count: 2968
Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong
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Nearly another month had passed since the first time Hayden had come over to your house. So far, it was still blissfully amazing. You and Hayden hung out every chance you could steal, playing video games, going to your house to make home cooked meals, playing cards, binging shows. It was just what you needed to help get over Jason, and Hayden felt like the first true best friend you’d had in a very long time. He didn’t judge, he didn’t pressure you, he was completely comfortable running errands with you, chilling, or doing whatever you wanted to do.
Oddly enough, even though both of you shared nearly crippling cases of anxiety, hanging out with him seemed to ease it. You didn’t feel as if you were trapped or stuck when you were with him, as you had with friends in the past. In fact, you looked more forward to being with Hayden than you did for any alone time. His presence in your life had really turned everything from gray to gold.
That’s why, after a later dinner one night, his news sent your world crashing down.
The two of you were strolling along the sidewalk as you took in the weather that had finally started to get warmer. You had a lightweight jacket on, jeans, and a lightweight long sleeved shirt, feeling extra comfy, trying to ignore how Hayden looked beside you. He was wearing a clothing brand he’d designed himself and it looked dashing on him. Tonight he had the audacity to wear blue jeans, dark casual shoes, a black long sleeved shirt, and a long, light weight black jacket, military style. Just the sight of him made you crazy with desire, but these feelings had stayed locked up in your head for quite some time now.
For you, it was no secret that you felt strongly for Hayden. You knew you loved being around him, you loved seeing him every day, you loved his laugh, the way he joked, the way he described things he was passionate about. He lifted your spirits and dried your tears, sometimes literally. He brightened your days, and calmed your nights.
But part of you wondered, if you really liked him as a love interest or just a friend. The problem was you couldn’t tell. Was he just a rebound from Jason? Was he just attractive to you because he was there when your life felt like it was falling apart? Did you just like Hayden because he was more attentative than your boyfriends and best friends of the past?
Or was this how a best friend should feel? Should it be this free, easy, and relaxed? Should it feel this sweet? Should you feel this elated when you saw his smiling face?
So, your attraction to him felt confusing, perplexing. Of course, he was handsome, sweet, kind, patient, hilarious, mysterious, peculiar, talented. So that made you attracted to him, romantically, no doubt. You often dreamed of being with him, day dreaming of grabbing his hand on one of your many strolls, just leaning over and placing a soft kiss to his decadent lips after a video game match, holding him at night after a long day.
On the other hand, you felt like he was the best friend you’d ever had, happy to just be near him, relax and play together, make jokes and tease each other. He was great to just have as someone to call on when you needed a listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. In those instances, he didn’t feel like anything more…
So here you were, stuck, not sure if you wanted him romantically, and if you did, was it worth risking the friendship?
“I’m so happy I have the day off tomorrow,” you noted honestly.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, this past week has been so shitty. How about you? How’s the shooting going?”
“Good...Uh, but...I’ll probably be looking for some place to go,” Hayden said, uneasiness lacing in his silken voice.
“Oh? Like a store or…?”
“Like...A new hotel,” he tried, his voice tense as if waiting for you to erupt on him.
Immediately, your blood ran cold and your mind whirled. Hayden...wanted...to...leave? You said in your mind, slowly, trying to comprehend this. You were just now figuring out you needed to sort out these feelings for him, he couldn’t leave. You needed him. He was your rock. He was the one thing that kept you smiling throughout the day.
Regardless of if you were possibly in love with him or not, or whatever was going on in your head, he was your best friend, and you needed him. If he looked for another hotel, he could be on the other side of the city and you’d never see him. Him being at your hotel was half the reason you two could hang out.
You stopped walking.
“What? Why?” you breathed out, sounding more shocked and curious, instead of showing the evidence of the internal catastrophe that was occuring.
He shrugged as he turned to you, his hands in his pockets as he spoke. “I don’t know. It’s just getting a little too expensive for day to day work. I need to find someplace a little further out maybe, less amenities, a little lower nightly rate. It’s nothing against you or the hotel or anything--” he said, trying to assure you that it wasn’t personal.
You waved him off, frowning deeply, and shaking your head. “I don't care about the hotel. I care about you. What am I gonna do without you?” you asked and it surprisingly came out sounding playful. But in your head and heart, the feeling was much more gut wrenching.
He laughed. “Y/N, I’ll be in the same city. It’s no big deal. We can still hang out,” he assured, nudging you with his arm.
You shook your head. “No, it won’t be the same. We’ll only do a it a couple of times and then...never,” you said sadly. Then a brilliant idea flickered in your head. “Hey, what if...what if you roomed with me?” you asked and Hayden frowned a tad bit.
“Move in with you?” he asked, curious, his blue eyes boring into yours, and it took everything in you not to touch him.
“Not like that,” you assured quickly. “But, ever since Jason moved out, it’s been a little lonely and I wouldn’t mind the extra income again to help with payments. You would pay half what you do now at the hotel.”
“That’s enticing,” he admitted with a laugh that filled you with warmth.
“Come on,” you urged. “It’s a win-win. I don’t struggle with rent for a few months while you’re here, you have a real home to go to, with more space. You can cook your own meals, have space in the fridge and pantry. It’ll be like airbnb, or quick roommate agreement. I have a spare bedroom, I have enough space, I need the money. You need to save money…” you tried, giving him your best inviting-begging look.
“I don’t know, Y/N,” he said, tilting his head side to side and rubbing his neck.
“What do you have to lose? An expensive hotel room. But what you gain is priceless. A decent bed. A fantastic roommate,” you said, nudging him with an eyebrow wiggle. “Amazing meals…Endless Netflix on a huge TV…”
“I don’t want to be a burden or in the way or anything though,” he said, showing some hesitancy.
“You won’t be, I swear,” you vowed. “It’ll be great. You have your own bathroom, access to everything. What’s mine is yours. We can share dinners, lunches, whatever. The TV, the Netflix, whatever you need, you got it--”
He smiled and rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright. I give up. You win. Anything to make you stop,” he said.
You squealed lightly and threw your arms around him. “Thank you! It’s gonna be so much fun having you there!”
“Don’t speak too soon. I may be a slob, or a weirdo, or a lazy ass,” he commented.
“Uh, we both can’t be those things,” you countered, scoffing. “Only room for one lazy person at my house, and I’ve already claimed it,” you said proudly as you beamed.
He threw his head back laughing as he tossed his arm around your shoulders. “When would you like me to move in?”
“Whenever you’re comfortable. I don’t work tomorrow, so that might be ideal, seeing as I’d be there to let you in and show you stuff and I wouldn’t have to race off to work.”
“Sounds like a plan. In that case, I need to get back to the hotel and start packing so I can check out in the morning.”
Giddy from this new plan, you nodded and responded, “Perfect. I’ll drop you off and get the extra bedroom set up for your arrival.”
“Ever the manager, huh?” he teased.
“You can’t turn perfection off, Hayden,” you retorted before the two of you began laughing some more.
---------------------------
That night, you got Hayden back to the hotel then you yourself went home. You cleaned up the main parts of the house a little better so he didn’t immediately see a shamble of a home and turn around and nope-the-fuck out. Once it was all picked up, you went to bed and decided to finish the rest in the morning.
You hopped out of bed, got another load of dishes going in the dishwasher, then went to the guest room and cleared it from all evidence of the absence that had settled on it. You cleaned the cobwebs and dust away from the ceiling, the ceiling fan and light, the nightstand and the dresser. Then you pulled the old sheets and threw them in the laundry and pulled out fresh ones and dressed the bed and Febreezed it to get the smell of stale linen washed from it.
Once that was done, you vacuum the room and lit a nice, light candle in the room, marking the room done mentally, you moved on to the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom. It had collected some dust as well. You wiped down the fixtures, mirror, toilet, and shower, giving them all fresh, clean, sparkling looks. Finally, you mopped the small room and it was complete.
You had no idea when Hayden would arrive, you assumed some time after lunch since check out was 11:00 and he’d probably stop for lunch somewhere. So you decided to light some more candles to get a fresh scent going through the house. After that, you were...well, stuck. You had no idea what to do and your anxiety started to rise.
What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t like living with you? What if he felt strong armed, and he changed his mind and never talked to you again? What if he had a weird habit you couldn’t live with? What if living together made you get on each others nerves? What if he wasn’t any help around the house? What if he didn’t pay you?
The questions swirled and buzzed your head until you started to slightly panic. After a moment or two, you asked yourself what you would do if you were at work and a situation like this arose? Well, first, he is a roommate, there should be a written agreement. You trusted Hayden. You didn’t think he’d fuck you over money wise or anything else, but for your own peace of mind you wanted it.
You sat down at your computer and started to draw up a little informal contract. Having his name listed, and spots to fill in the dates he moved in, how much he would pay, when, and method of payment. You listed things that were included with his rent such as utilities, and a certain amount on groceries, if they exceeded that, he’d have to foot the bill. Rules for eating out, rules for bathroom and TV usage.
You wanted to make sure anything weird was covered but you didn’t want it to be so long he didn’t want to read itl. You hit all the main points of a roommate: pay, rules for taking care of the house, and places for him to initial, and for both of your signatures.
Once it was done, you got a knock at the door.
Your heart skipped a beat and you jumped up from your couch, jogging to the door to open it to Hayden.
“Hey! You made it, come on in,” you said, moving aside.
He came in, towing two suitcases and an over the shoulder bag.
“Do you have more?”
“Yeah, out in the car,” he said, thrusting his chin towards the outside while he sat his bags on the floor. You started to make your way out when he called after you. “No, no, you don’t have to go get them. It’s fine.”
“It’s no trouble,” you assured over your shoulder as you went to the trunk and pulled out two more suitcases, a smaller bag, and shut the trunk. You wheeled the bags inside and closed the door. “See? I’m capable of some things,” you teased with a beaming smile.
“Clearly. Now, where would you like me to put all my junk?” he inquired with a star-studded smile.
“Uh, uh…” you stuttered as you stared at him. Why did he suddenly look so much more handsome? “Uh, right through here,” you said, shaking your head and raising your arm to gesture to the guest bedroom.
“Cool.”
The two of you picked up all the luggage and hauled it into the bedroom.
“So here’s your room, obviously, over here is your bathroom,” you informed as you walked over and flicked on the light. “I’ve got towels and stuff in here but if you need more, they’re in the little linen closet in the hall.”
“Oh, very cool, thank you.”
“Is this okay?” you asked, nervous that it’s way below what he’s used to.
“Of course,” he assured, no trace of hesitance in his voice. “I love it,” he said, eyeing the room.
“Well thanks. Oh, if you don’t mind, I sort of wrote up a contract, if you want to take a look now? I just figured we get all the unpleasantness out of the way,” you tried, wringing your hands.
“Contract? Sounds pretty formal.”
You nodded your head side to side. “Eh. it is. I just like to have it on record and stuff just...everything. Ya know? I trust you, it’s just I want to make sure there aren’t confusions or questions about anything as long as you're staying here.”
“Y/N, Y/N, it’s cool. I don’t mind following rules and getting this in writing,” he assured with a smile and soft voice.
“Oh, great. Awesome. I’ll just go print it and we can look it over,” you said as you went back to your laptop, printed it, and then you two went over everything at your little dining room table.
It only took thirty minutes and you two had zipped through all the clauses and addendums. He’d signed and dated everything with that adorable smile he always wore. You went over what he liked to eat and didn’t like, allergies, and everything so you could appropriately shop for him. You two agreed to eat together, to save money and time, if it was possible, but for obvious reasons if one of you was at work, you would have groceries for individual meals.
After that, he confided that he hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so you rummaged something up together, having a blast, blaring music, teasing each other’s cooking skills. When it was done, you fell into your normal routine of television with lunch, accidentally binging a whole season of a show before either you realized what had happened.
In fact, you’d gotten so into the show, that the two of you had scooted close together on the couch over the course of the day and his arm was thrown behind you on the overstuffed couch, resting on top of the large cushion behind your head.
When you two noticed it was going into the other season, Hayden got up and stretched.
“Well, I think I’m gonna go ahead and settle in, maybe do a load of laundry if that’s cool,” he said.
“Sure thing,” you answered, standing up as well, grabbing the plates. “I’ll just clean up a bit and get my stuff out of the dryer and you can use it.”
“Cool. Thanks again for this. You’re saving me a ton of money and headache,” he said with a warm, friendly smile that made you feel a lot more than friendly towards him.
How did he do this? How did he go from a fun, friendly face to being irresistible overnight? When did he blur the line of confidant to desirable lover? Did he do it on purpose? Did he mean to? Was he just being himself and getting closer to you? Was he trying to make it known he had feelings for you? Was it one sided?
So far he hadn’t exactly flirted with you, but Hayden didn’t seem the type to flirt. He was about as outgoing as you were, which wasn’t saying much. When it came to romance you were a rather trepid being. You weren’t typically the first one to strike, or if you were, you weren’t overtly strong about it. So why would he be any different?
Maybe he was trying to capture your attention in his own way, or maybe he didn’t feel that way at all towards you. At this point, you weren’t sure, but you were tipping more and more towards liking him romantically with each passing day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Forever Tag:
@essie1876
@magpiegirl80
@letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked
@marvel-imagines-yes-please
@missinstantgratification
@thejemersoninferno
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Hayden Christensen:
@coldlilheart
@haydens-moles
History Repeats:
@multifandomblog315
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February 24, 2021: Annie Hall (1977) (Part 1)
Well...Woody Allen.
I, uh...OK, look, I could get into the whole Woody Allen thing, but INSTEAD of me doing that, I’ll just say this: look into it. Because there is a LOT on this subject, and it’s controversial as HELL. At the end of the day, I’ll recommend this upcoming series on HBO, and just recommend that you look into it.
Because, uh...yeah, it’s not great. That’s all I’m gonna say, because I need to educate myself on it more as well. Instead, let’s talk for a few seconds about divorcing the art from the artist. But ONLY for a few seconds.
I understand why some of you might be surprised I’m doing this one. Because, again...Woody Allen. But, yeah, I always try to do my best to divorce the art from the artist. Because some people suck, but they still make nice things, or at the very least, things that should be open to interpretation and appreciation.
“Superfreak” is a classic song of 1981, and everybody’s heard at least some of it, but Rick James fuckin’ kidnapped two women and kept them in his basement, WHERE HE TORTURED THEM. Edgar Degas made beautiful paintings of ballet dancers, and was also A MASSIVE ANTI-SEMITE. And before he was (RIGHTFULLY AND JUSTIFIABLY) outed as a roofie-ing piece-o-shit...I grew up with - and genuinely enjoyed - this guy’s comedy.
And you can judge me for this, but...I still think his stand-up was and is genuinely funny, and I still appreciate the cultural impact that The Cosby Show had on society’s perception of African-American families, divorced from the stereotype of the ghetto. Fact of the matter is, works themselves deserve to be separated from the artist who made them. That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking with it Entirely fine to disagree with me, by the way, I get it.
But in that spirit, I’m watching Annie Hall, despite its creators likely transgressions. After all, this is technically his magnum opus, and it’s a good look into the man himself. And so, with that in mind: Annie Hall!
SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Recap (1/2)
youtube
Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) is talking directly to us about his outlook on life, and his view on the potential future. He tells half of a joke, then an amusing anecdote, and a bit more until telling us that he’s broke up with Annie, and he’s still thinking about it, trying to figure out exactly where things went wrong. He goes back to the beginning, which is punctuated with flashbacks.
He grew up in Brooklyn in World War II, and a young Alvy (Jonathan Munk) is with his mother (Joan Newman) at the doctor’s. He’s depressed after learning that the universe will one day end after a period of expansion, and is having his first real existential crisis. I had mine around the same age, actually, went I learned that the Earth will one day get swallowed by the sun. And THEN came the realization that I’d be dead by that point. AND THEN came the realization that I’d die one day, and that was a WHOLE NEW crisis to...anyway.
He grew up under the Coney Island rollercoaster according to him (although his analyst says that he exaggerates), and that’s what he blames for his “nervous personality. He’s also got an active imagination, often blurring fantasy and reality. His Dad ran the bumper cars on Coney Island (a place that I’ve never been, but desperately want to go).
He continues on talking about his former schoolmates, and not really that well. While in class, young Alvy kisses a...little girl...ahem. And then, when reprimanded by the teacher, current Alvy notes that he was always...like that...and he also says this to the little girl, and they talk about Freud’s latency period, and Alvy said he never...had...one...that’s uh...that’s fuckin’ SOMETHING, now isn’t it?
OK, well, shoving that forcefully aside as hard as I can, Alvy wonders aloud on where his classmates now, and one of them says this:
This also involves a little girl saying she’s “into leather,” which is...awkward as FUCK, but WE’RE GONNA MOVE THE FUCK ON. Alvy recounts his paranoia, and was so even after he became a famous comedian (which we say after a VERY good joke about qualifying for the army as a hostage). He speaks to a friend, Rob (Tony Roberts) about potential anti-Semitism from a person in a passersby meeting, then heads to meet Annie.
Annie Hall (Diane Keaton) arrives at a movie theater, late and in a bad mood. The two are late to their intended film, argue briefly, then head to another film that they’ve already seen, The Sorrow and the Pity. In line, they’re in front of a man loudly soliloquizing on film, much to Alvy’s annoyance.
Annie and Alvy continue to argue a bit, while Alvy openly berates the casual film critic. In the middle, he talks to the audience about it, only to be followed by the crtiic himself, who also acknowledges the audience! Huh! Anyway, he’s a professor at Columbia, and starts continuing his line speech, this time on the work of Marshall McLuhan, one of the most important early media theorists ever. And then, Alvy brings out Marshall McLuhan (Marshall McLuhan) to debate him on it, only for Alvy to turn to the audience and wish aloud that life could really be like this!
I’m beginning to understand why people like this film. It’s metacontextual before metacontextuality was really a thing in film. It’s a fourth-wall breaking movie in some fantastic ways. But will it still hold its muster after breaking the fourth wall’s become so commonplace? we’ll see, I guess.
After a showing of the film, the two return home, and Alvy tries to initiate sex. But Annie’s not really into it at the moment, and Alvy complains that they used to have sex all the time, and it’s been a while since. So, I guess that retroactively awkward scene at the school was meant to foreshadow Alvy’s high libido, that will probably cause some conflict in the film. Anyway, Annie notes that Alvy once went through something similar with Allison, his first wife. Who’s Allison? Flashback!
Allison Portchnik (Carol Kane) is a graduate student in political science, working for a campaign that Alvy’s about to perform for. He’s nervous, as he’s going on after another comedian. She comforts him by saying that she thought he was cute, and he does well. But we flash-forward to a night after they’re married, shortly after the death of JFK, which Alvy’s obsessing over, entertaining various conspiracy theories.
However, Allison rightly points out that his obsession is simply a way for him to avoid having sex with her, which mirrors the present-day situation him him and Annie. Flash forward TO Alvy and Annie, and there are just lobsters...everywhere, on the floor in their kitchen. After that commotion, they talk about Annie’s past romances.
And by talk about, I mean they LITERALLY WALK THROUGH her memories. And I gotta say...I fuckin’ love this method of storytelling. One of her previous boyfriends is an actor (John Glover), and his over-dramatic prose sickens Alvy. We see a second marriage of Alvy’s to New Yorker writer Robin (Janet Margolin), who’s dragged him to a stuffy high society party of intellectuals that he has no interest in going to. Same her, Alvy. I bet the caviar’s canned.
He tries to initiate sex with her - in the middle of the party, mind you - and she turns him down. later, when they get to it in their apartment, she’s unable to, uh...reach satisfaction. From there, we flash-forward after that marriage ends to a tennis match with Rob, where he meets one of his mutual friends: Annie Hall.
And for the record, Annie’s pretty obviously got a crush on him, and she’s adorable as fuck. Also, that outfit, real talk...that outfit rules. She offers to give Alvy a list, during which he’s quite worried about her driving, but the two still get along well enough. Annie’s an amateur photographer, during a time period where photography is considered a relatively new art form. The two go to her apartment, and share familial anecdotes and personal stories about themselves. And as they talk, we also see a set of subtitles on top of each of them that betray their inner feelings and thoughts.
I do genuinely like the stylings of the movie, goddamn. This conversation leads to Alvy asking her out on a date, although they end up scheduling it after Annie auditions at a nightclub as a singer. And while it doesn’t go great, Alvy tells her she was fantastic, and they share a kiss before they head to dinner. They head to her place afterwards, and we cut to later that night, post-coitus.
And then, we get a flash-forward back to the next day, where the two are at a bookstore, and Alvy speaks on his personal philosophy of life.
I'm obsessed with uh, with death, I think. Big - big subject with me, yeah. I have a very pessimistic view of life. You should know this about me if we're gonna go out. You know, I - I feel that life is - is divided up into the horrible and the miserable. Those are the two categories, you know. The - the horrible would be like, um, I don't know, terminal cases, you know, and blind people, crippled. I don't know how they get through life. It's amazing to me. You know, and the miserable is everyone else. That's - that's - so - so - when you go through life - you should be thankful that you're miserable because you're very lucky to be miserable.
Iiiiinteresting.
Shortly into their relationship, they admit they’re in love (or “lurve”, as Alvy says). She moves in with Alvy, which he initially isn’t the biggest fan of, having been burned in two previous marriages And already, their relationship is showing a few bumps. Alvy’s also always trying to push her to take college classes, while she uses mariuana whenever they have sex, which Alvy doesn’t agree with.
But as they have sex one night, without the marijuana at Alvy’s urging, Annie’s mind wanders - LITERALLY.
This film...this film has a VERY unique style of visual storytelling, and I am HERE for it! Seriously, I genuinely love this method of storytelling and comedy, it’s extremely engaging to me.
Soon enough, Alvy gets an interview to write for a talk show host, which he ABSOLUTELY despises. But in doing so, he decides to go into stand-up for himself, and is actually quite successful at it! But before we get to that, we’re at the halfway point! See you in Part 2!
#annie hall#woody allen#diane keaton#tony roberts#carol kane#paul simon#shelley duvall#christopher walken#romance february#romance movie#romcom#romantic comedy#user365#365 movie challenge#365 movies 365 days#365 Days 365 Movies#365 movies a year
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Day 254: Kaizers Orchestra - Ompa Til Du Dør (2001)
There aren’t that many rock bands who incorporate a string bass, a wheezy pump organ, brake drums (yes, from car wheels), oil barrels and crowbars into their standard instrument setting. But the Kaizers Orchestra from Stavanger (western Norway) does just that. And they do it well. Well, they did. They went into an indefinite hiatus at the end of 2013, in the same year when I discovered them. But I managed to see them live in concert twice that year, it was amazing both times and it will remain stuck in my memory as some of the best concerts I have even seen. Once in Prague Roxy which was absolutely packed with about 2000 people and exploding with energy and then 5 months later again in Bergen, but this time in an open air concert with 30.000 people in audience inside the old Bergen fort. It was electric both time, just in a very different way.
For little over a decade Kaizers Orchestra were the biggest band in Norway. But Outside Scandinavia they are almost unknown.
Their image and sound of jingly drums and wheezy old organ and their theatrical art of an evil circus band or a carnival freak show makes for a mysterious dark atmosphere and very entertaining concerts. It’s a bit of a Balkan gypsy music meets punk rock and there is something distinctly Tom Waits-esque about them.
Janove’s gritty and raspy voice and his singing style, very syncopated and almost on the verge of rapping, yet intentionally quite erratic, enhances his image of an evil circus director even more. Watch that and imagine this is someone who studied to become a teacher.
And to top their theatrics even more, there’s Helge Risa, aka Omen Kaizer, aka Mr. 250% who plays the old organ and accordion wearing a gas mask. He’s portraying this weird character who always stoically enters the stage before the rest of the band, in his gas mask (bought in a charity shop in Stavanger for 40 NOK back in the days), wearing a suit and holding a briefcase.
All of their song lyrics are in Norwegian, specifically in jærsk dialekt (valley south of Stavanger), which some may find even more fascinating (e.g. nerds like me), but clearly the absolute majority of people outside of Norway won’t. But I find that sometimes listening to lyrics in a language I don’t understand can be also liberating.
If you want to enjoy their unique rock / brass / industrial sound, their 1st regular record, Ompa Til Du Dør (2001, Ompa Til You Die) is the one to go for.
The album is a collection of stories about strange characters on the social periphery: sailors, soldiers, Mr. Kaizer and his gang and others like this.
If you ask what “ompa” is, it’s quite hard to translate precisely, but it is an interjection word that describes the cling and musical tone of a brass band of the janissary tradition, possibly close to Balkan folk music. So loosely translated, Ompa Til Du Dør means something along the lines of “make loud music with a kick till you die”.
Kontroll På Kontinentet (Control over the Continent) has a distinct fairground / circus band feel about it. And in live concerts it’s the song when the crowds go wild and sing along like mad. Story-wise it’s song of a mafia boss showing off and listing his conditions of how his successor should look and act like should he himself loose his life.
Resistansen (The Resistance) is a story of a mafia gang and their headquarters. The song features a brilliant group chorus before culminating in the euphoric chant of the album title
The song 170 is a story of a soldier stuck in a war trench, who is called by his general not by his name but rather by his number “170”. The melody reminiscent of an old shanty song, but its banjo line and a very slow, almost tired and clumsy, rhythm gives it more of a wild west - high noon sort of feel. Either way it adds even more character to the record.
My personal favorite of all Kaizers’s songs is the single ballad on this album, Bris (Breeze). It’s sung from the perspective of a character called Kristoffer, a ex-solder who came back from war wounded and crippled and now lingers on the periphery of society. He is pondering his war memories, the sacrifice he had to give to the war and society and while casually talking to the wind at the same time.
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youtube
Happy Thursday, relax and enjoy.
Album highlights:
- Kontroll På Kontinentet (Control over the Continent)
- Ompa Til Du Dør (Ompa Til You Die)
- 170
- Resistansen (The Resistance)
- Bris (Breeze)
Playlist:
https://spoti.fi/3bB5lH7
Links and references:
- Kaizers Orchestra - Wikipedia
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mtmte liveblog issue 22
oooh man, its time to feel some EMOTIONS!
I'm BACK after a hiatus, which was due in part to me getting my 1st dose of the covid vaccine! woohoo!
anyways, starting here w/issue 22....we have a great cover w/thunderclash, the legend himself
oof. the covers made me forget how much I don't like the art this issue...I hate to be mean to the artists but this art style just isn't doin it for me chief
god I love this issue though. the framing device of rewind’s movie is so so fantastic
tailgate listing off all his fake awards/accomplishments....ily
rodimus my boy, you're a prime in my heart
the ‘not a decepticon’ label for cyclonus is so much hvbhkjfbskjf
I literally wanna comment on every single panel bc I love all the characters so much but then id be here forever...that being said whirl ily sm
hvbjdfbhsfjhdfshja BRAINSTORM ‘according to perceptor - ships genius’ hvhdkjhbfhjs ily dumb gay idiot
and then the cut to perceptor after brainstorm like, blew up his lab vjbkdsfnbksjf dude
GODDDDDD drift ‘your name...defines you. it’s your soul expressed in syllables. hm? oh, yes, sorry. it’s drift.’ GOD he’s so fucking funny. I love early story hippy drift
god I cant stop thinking about how good this whole issue would be as an animated show...like, specifically rewinds film, it would be SO FUCKING GOOOOOOD mtmte show WHEN
rewiiiiind ;_; I fuckgin love rewind god. fellow video editing enthusiast....
ohhhh rodimus being embarrassed about his big speech at the beginning of mtmte....my boy I love u so much
gjhnbgehjsrkfbjksf magnus being suspicious of rewind oh my god. magnus ily but please, look at the lil guy, he’s a good boy, most of the time
the fuckgin footage that magnus removed hbvhakjbfhskf god. wasn't that intended to be footage of magnus dancing? I love him
minibot squad.....
and here it begins, the mystery stick rung question...
poor rung oh my god he’s just trying to polish his lil spaceship and people r throwing shit at him. taking Ls as per usual it seems
hand grenade tag hvbfjksdnfbkjdf love that callback
noooo rungs ship :(
magnus’s censorship vhbhadkjfhdbhjsakjhfn
oh man I forgot about how they met that race of Transformers But More
the one-upsmanship hbvkajsbehfjks
whirrrrrl lmao I love whirl sm
goddddd whirl just killing that other alien and ending the 16 million yr long civil war bvkjsdbfhjjkafs so fucking much
oh god oh god the ‘are you happy’ page, I'm not emotionally equipped to handle this like, ever
but I will say I feel like it would be EVEN MORE oof if it were milne or someone drawing it bc I feel like this art style takes away from some of the impact bc the expressions aren't really that...expressive? idk how to put it
anyways. every single answer destroys me!!! like even the happy ones, like chromedome and rewind and tailgate - well, in present time, none of those three are doing so hot, so that makes this just hurt
and rung....that is so fucking depressing. jesus. this guy is so fuckng sad, somebody get him a friend stat
and swerve...ouch. this readthru I've really noticed how much early-mtmte swerve is not-so-subtly like, crying out for help bc he’s so alone and shit. jesus
also brainstorms response is just plain ole sad w/context, but at this point in the story without context, it just seems very foreboding lmao. I'm realizing this readthru that brainstorm is very sketchy and ominous in a particular ‘is he evil?’ mad scientist sorta way in early mtmte
and then everyone else is also just so OOF in their own unique sad ways, but I think the worst out of everyone is drift....GODDDDDD. especially considering that at this point in the story, drift is this kinda goofy hippy guy, so seeing him just sit there with his face in his hand, not even answering the question...AND knowing that shortly after this he’ll end up banished...IT FUCKING HURTS M8!
meanwhile, the more upbeat ‘quest to see rungs alt mode’ continues...with an ‘alt mode party’ vhbadkjsdfnabskjf it looks so silly with a bunch of cars just sitting around a table lmao
I cant even tell who everyone is bc they so rarely turn into cars n shit lmaoooooo
rodimus with the bucket on his head hbvhakjbfskjf I CANT
everyone’s reactions to thunderclash...i fucking love it
the fact that TAILGATE doesn't hate him, even though we’ve seen that tailgate tends to dislike people who are universally liked/who have achieved a lot of impressive things
rodimus you petty thot vbdkjbfdjhsakjdf ily
RODIMUS IS SO FUNNYYYYYY ‘I'm not making all these sacrifices and leading these guys into battle and being inspirational - I'm not doing that because it makes me look good’ RODIMUS VBHSKJDFNBKSJF
thunderclash talking about magnus’s article on typefaces....hdbksjfsdbkjgfb bro
AND THEN MAGNUS HUGS HIM....HGBSKJFDSHFKD I CANT
POOR DRIFT bvhajkdfbhjkjsfd rodimus saying he ‘rehabilitated him’ oh my god
the whole spectralism thing...im sorry I cant get over how funny all this is vbakdjfbksjf thunderclash rlly b out here charming rodimus’s entire crew
and then ratchet comes in, calling tc ‘thunders,’ and tc immediately notices ratchets new hands (somehow) hvbkjfhbskjf truly amazing
it cracks me up that rodimus is all 😒😒 at thunderclash, even though as we come to find out, tc really IS That Perfect, and him complimenting rodimus isn't sarcasm at all lmao
AND THEYRE LOOKING FOR THE KNIGHTS OF CYBERTRON TOO HVSDHFJBSHKHDFJS OF COURSE
the vis vitalis being a life support machine spaceship is a really cool concept tho
‘rescuing some orphans from an exploding sun’ I fucking cant
evil guy: [holds a gun to thunderclash’s head]
rodimus: :D finally something doesn't go his way!
he’s so petty I’m..........dkdjhfdabhduifadijgl
and its the aliens from earlier! oooh
GODDD I forgot that swerve used rung in mystery stick mode to SCHWACK the guy
rung casually dropping the fact that the functionists like, experimented on him...there's a lot of implications there, and that'll certainly be explored more later...
the fact that his ID card says ‘rong’ hvbhjakhdsbfakhsjfn
oughufadkfujbsfk the circle of light throwing wrenches n shit at skids...guys cmon vbhsdjkfnslfd
the circle of light is like ‘wtf you all have trauma and a bunch of weird unhealthy coping mechanisms this is wack byeeeee’ lmao
skids calling the lost light his home is rlly sweet tho
cant believe the religious space hippy cult is being so rude about a film made by a guy who died like a week ago. unreal
cd finally figured out how to make the pffft sound, good for him
AUGHHHHH the fact that rewind used ‘little victories’ as the title of the film and that's something that chromedome said in the video ;_; I'm fucking inconsolable
rodimus, despite his obvious posturing for the camera during the whole issue, comes off as surprisingly genuine when he says that he hasn't thought about his own future much, but wants the crew to have a happy ending....im gonna cry
‘who knows what's around the corner?’ tailgate, PLEASE don't say that, oh my god,
OUGHHHH GROUP SHOT
OHHH mannnnNNNNN i love this issue SO MUCH. what a good fun emotional rollercoaster wrap-up to mtmte s1. god.
like, this issue has it all - humor, drama, crippling sadness, intrigue, worldbuilding...it’s so excellent
and getting to see rewind again hurts so bad but also I love him
ok quick mtmte s1 retrospective...god s1 is so fucking good. I'm gonna have to read more to say which chunk of mtmte I liked best but s1 is so fucking excellent that it might be my favorite. though its hard to pick bc there's so much good stuff later on too...whatever, the point is s1 is so so good
the plotlines and characters are fucking stellar. like I cant even believe how well Everything works, its very impressive. I cant really think of anything major that made me go ‘yeah could've done without that plotline/character’
I love how dedicated jro is to connecting everything. I've mentioned it before but basically every single moment in the series has payoff - what you initially think is just a funny moment, or a fluffy character establishment bit, ends up ALSO being an important plot point later, in some way
an example would be here w/rung and his alt mode - it just seems like a fun little B-plot for this issue, and seems to pretty neatly conclude with the reveal that rung was eventually classified as an ‘ornament’ (lmao)...but we later on get to see a lot more about this, both here and in the functionist universe
and like, stuff like tailgate’s autobot lessons w/magnus - at first that can be seen as purely character establishment stuff, showing that magnus is a strict rule-lover and tg is a loveable try-hard good boy - but that becomes plot relevant in remain in light, with tailgate saving the day due to his knowledge of the autobot code (and its also character relevant, with magnus’s arc in remain in light).
and I know this is like. a normal regular thing in writing, but I'm just very impressed about how cleanly jro pulls it off, and how many things he’s juggling at once, especially in early mtmte - it’s very ambitious!
and we gotta remember, this is a comic book. I've read a lot of comic books, and the quality is all over the place. a lot of writers bite off more than they can chew, and the story ends up kinda scattered as a result.
another thing I see a lot in franchise writing like this is a lack of strong early character establishing due to the author assuming the readers are at least somewhat familiar with the characters already - which can be totally fair depending on where it is in the continuity, but other times it can come off as lazy
in mtmte, the cast is extremely well fleshed out, and not only that, the cast itself is unique in that there are a lot of relative unknowns (franchise-wise) - which I think was an absolutely brilliant move, because then jro was able to essentially create The Definitive Version of these characters - characters like swerve, brainstorm, chromedome, rewind, tailgate...mtmte is their baseline characterization, because they haven't really appeared in much else
this also allows for deviation from the franchise norms - again, a comic book classic is good writing being stifled by a need to stick to a certain status quo regard the characters, the world, the powers, relationships, etc
(I've mostly read DC comics, and some marvel, so I'm thinking superheroes w/all these comic comparisons)
so mtmte had a good recipe for genuine creativity in that the characters were relative unknowns, the plot was basically ‘space road trip,’ the status quo of ‘autobot vs decepticon war’ had been demolished throughout the entire franchise...so jro was able to take all that and run, and it turned out so fantastic
and luckily it isn't over yet! so many comics suffer from premature cancellation...and sadly mtmte/ll isn't exempt from this, as we’ll see later, but I've seen some awful ones, where comics are forced to wrap up in like 2 issues while in the middle of an arc. yikes.
but another comic staple...one of my least favorite things about comics books in general...something that was basically responsible for driving me away from comics after reading a bunch...the dreaded crossover event
yep, even mtmte isn't immune to this unfortunate plague on the comic industry. crossover events are the absolute worst, and I'm saying this as somebody who adores crossovers (in concept more than execution usually). they SHOULD be my favorite, but unfortunately they p much always completely suck
they're essentially a ploy to get you to read the other ongoing titles, but they usually only serve to bog down whatever story you're reading to the point where you don't even wanna read that one anymore, let alone read all the other ongoings. at least, that’s been my experience
it doesn't help that reading orders tend to be hard to find/keep track of, and that you need to go read the other series to know what's going on. I just hate it, like, I came here to read THIS series, I don't want a bunch of other series showing up too - even if I was reading two series, I wouldn't want them crossed over, because they're separate stories! augh!
I'm totally losing my focus here but my point is...crossover events suck, and mtmte unfortunately is involved in one. I have not read dark cybertron, and I'm not about to. I've heard nothing but bad things so I have no desire to inflict that upon myself
soooo ill be reading through the tfwiki articles for those issues to give myself a better understanding of what went on - which is more than I've ever done in the past - and maybe ill even make a single post summarizing my thoughts on what I read in the wiki, lmao
but yea ill be skipping to the mtmte s2 stuff next
phew ok I'm super tired, my vision keeps blurring out and stuff lmao. its time for bed, I probably have more thoughts but ill save them for later. for now...peace out!
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Confessions of a past bachelorette
I was the fish that could not get hooked. I was a serial dater, heartbreaker, bachelorette or whatever you want to call it. Was I a whore? Slut? Please, I have more class.
The story begins at age 18. I dated Duncan. He lived in the moment but couldn’t be serious or get his shit together to save his life. The first time he met my parents, he asked if he could do his laundry at their house. He lived in a shitty apartment in Old Louisville with his two cats. I remember his cats were panting all the time because the A/C was crap. One time, we visited this hippy couple in their thirties. They let their dog shit in the yard and they used the shit as fertilizer. Their garden was majestic. They had a tree with full grown green apples. They grew chili peppers and all types of vegetables. The couple said, “Yeah, we need help with our garden.” I jumped in to volunteer. Duncan just wanted the vegetables. He didn’t care about anything else. The next day he says, “Why did you do that? I’m pulling weeds and breaking a sweat like a Mexican.” He forgot all about it once the hippies cooked breakfast for us. Duncan would often go to the mall and take advantage of the free appetizers in the food court and pass it off as a meal. Duncan was also the type that would go to his friends apartment with the pool and pass it off like he lived there. He would say, “They’ll never notice. Just say we live in apartment ABC.” Some would describe him as a freeloader. I describe him as a guy in his early 20′s on the struggle bus. Duncan was hilarious. There were good times but was this it for me? Nah.
Next was Phi. My family adored him. Phi was the first person I dated outside of my race. He wouldn’t be the last. He was a Vietnamese immigrant. He came to this country at 15, became fluent in English and went to UofL for Speed School of Engineering. He treated me right and was a great guy but there was a problem. Phi was Catholic. My stubborn ass wasn’t. My mom knew I would never convert. We had arguments over religion. My family grieved him more then I did. Bye Phi.
Then there was James. James and I would often eat wings and beer with his parents and debate over politics. His dad was an Irish American trucker who used to be in the Marines. His mom was Japanese. They would have, I kid you not...10 drinks in one setting and gulp it down like it was nothing. They didn’t even act tipsy. There was no effect. I enjoyed my life with James. I thought...keyword, “thought” he was the one. I loved him. We went to church. We went to the gym. We had a routine. However, I had crippling social anxiety. He couldn’t handle it. He was my only social outlet. I depended on him for going out and having fun. That’s not a healthy relationship. That’s called, codependent. We had petty arguments and then he started talking to other women online. Guess you could say, shit hit the fan. Could he have at least found a woman who had a full set of teeth? Was he that desperate for a fuck? If you are a dad, James is the guy whose ass you’d want to kick. After everything calmed down, there was no bad blood. James admitted he wanted no commitment and I wanted more out of life then weekly wing and beer sessions.
Later on, I had a string of flings. Devlon. Derek. David. There seems to be a pattern here...
Cue in, Reese. The dynamic between Reese and I was similar to that of my grandparents. My grandmother had a short fuse, was dominant and my grandpa put up with it. Reese was extremely reserved, shy and inhibited. I clearly was not. I was impatient, impulsive with a fire in my belly. I enjoyed getting Reese out of his comfort zone. I liked taking him to new places. He never had pho. He’d never been to DC. I liked taking charge. I liked making the decisions but if he didn’t feel comfortable, I wasn’t understanding. I wasn’t accepting. I continued to grow and get out of my shell. I graduated college, got my own apartment and held a job. Reese wasn’t on the same page. What the fuck? When was he going to move out? Reese wanted to go to medical school. All I could think about was when he would get his shit together. I was a selfish bitch. I cussed at him when he didn’t deserve it out of frustration. I kicked him out of my apartment a million times. He was fiercely loyal just like my grandpa was loyal to my grandma no matter how many times she treated him like shit. I didn’t like who I was with him and I didn’t want to repeat that dynamic. Reese loved me unconditionally. I had conditions. If he could just improve on X, then I would be happy. He never felt good enough. He could never reach high enough. I didn’t understand why I wanted to pursue other people when I had a perfectly good guy? What the fuck was wrong with me? I was the asshole. We weren’t on the same wavelength. I wasn’t good for him and he wasn’t right for me.
After being completely frustrated and exhausted, I told myself, “Fuck this. I’m done.” I swore off dating. I was content with just having a good time. At a later time, an old friend invited me to Play. For those who are unfamiliar, Play is a trendy LGBT drag queen club. I thought, what the hell? I am free to do whatever I want. It’s a Saturday night. Let’s go. I’m enjoying my time at Play when my friend says her mom’s COPD was acting up so they had to leave early. I decide to order a drink for myself and go out on the deck. As I walk to the deck, I see out of the corner of my eye, this sophisticated, attractive man casually standing a few feet away away from me. He’s leaning on the deck, sipping on his beer, and we glance back and forth at each other. He looks like the type of guy you would see in a hallmark card OR movie, your pick. His skin was olive complexion, had thick curly black hair, and he had the most perfect muscle tone. He was confident. His style was classy yet modern. He had this essence and energy about him that was out of this world. He was sophisticated. His attitude was a mix of smooth Frank Sinatra while also tough, sarcastic Sylvester Stallone. Honestly, I could just eat him up. Unbeknownst to him, I’m having this inner battle of, “I told myself that I would be single. Dammit, look at him. I can’t go with out talking to him.” 5 minutes of overthinking pass by. “Okay. Who is going to make the first move?” After what feels like an eternity of stealing glances, I take the leap of “fuck it” and go up to him. I think to myself, “What’s the worse that can happen? I make a total jackass of myself and never see him again. Let’s go for it.” I ask him if it’s his first time at Play and we hit it off like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
What started off as light banter turns into talking for 5 hours. I didn’t make it home until 5:30 am. He fascinated me. I had to see him the next day, and the next. We spend each day craving more. As I get to know him, he tells me all the things that would have been deal-breakers for me in the past. He’s 50. He’s Catholic. He’s divorced. Yet I could give a single fuck. Family and friends were concerned. My mom reacted, “He’s 50!? What the fuck, Melissa?” and I remark, “Trust me. He sure don’t look it.” My friends thought, “What if he’s controlling you?” I snap back, “Do you not know me by now?” The people who were once able to dissuade me did not know what to do with me. Hell, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Everyone thought I had lost my damn mind.
I was no longer in control like I was once. I could no longer walk away. I could no longer say, “Fuck it” or “Next.” He wasn’t an option but a necessity. He turned my world upside down and changed everything about my life. He made me realized what was missing. He lives in the moment. He has wit and spunk. He’s in an established career yet maintains the youth and energy of a young 20-something. He’s not jaded by life. He takes life by the horns literally...(he got chased by a bull in Spain). I don’t feel held back like I did in the past or make up excuses on why things should end because I know nothing can hold me back from him. If he was in the same exact circumstances, and it’s him, my mindset would be, I have to have him. Nothing can top him.
A similar story happened to a young bachelor man who had a string of ex-girlfriends who could never catch his interest---who could never quite keep him. He was that bachelor. He was that person. He never thought he would want a woman living with him. Why would he want that if he could bring a different one home every night? He never thought he would bring a girl down to meet his mom. Are you nuts?! No one is worthy enough. He never thought he would get down on one knee again after the hell he went through. Why take the risk when he has a great life? He thought this way until we found each other and we’ve been together ever since.
Guess we’re hooked for life.
I love you mi amor.
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Soliloquy Chapter Seven: Abscond
You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!
Chapter Seven: Abscond
Note: I just wanted to start by saying that chapter six was an absolute nightmare to write, but I had a great time doing it nonetheless. I’ve spent a few months trying to get myself to write this fic, and that resurrection scene was basically the whole reason. Trying to figure out a way to do that and make it make sense, fit into the existing confines of the series, and be coherent and enjoyable to read made for quite the crippling challenge, so I am thrilled by the reception that that chapter received! I remain humbled by your kind comments and warm words of encouragement! Thank you to every single person who commented, reblogged, gave kudos, and sent me messages about the story. I’d name you all, but in addition to everyone who has ever left me feedback on the previous chapters, almost 200 new people read the last chapter, so I can’t list you all by name. However, I can say thank you. Thank you all so much!
-~-
The overcast that had loomed overhead as they had entered the building was now more prevalent than ever. Be it a result of their current actions, some form of an ominous omen, or simply impeccably timed weather, it alluded to a coming storm of epic proportions. Huge dark clouds that would cause any right-minded pedestrian to check the current time of day spread across the sky in a vast network, chilling the air and absorbing all forms of light. The once gentle breeze was now a harsh wind, hammering against every surface it came across. It had been a glooming day from the very moment that the sun had come up that morning, but this was really kicking things into high gear.
As Magnolia collected what remained of the sparse materials she had brought with her to conduct the ritual, Nero oversaw V’s condition. The newly resurrected young man seemed to be semi-continuous, having still not opened his eyes since being brought back to the realm of the living, but able to react to physical stimuli. While it made sense to Nero on some level that he would not be fully operational out the gate (since he had never really been in the time he had known him) he still found himself unable to shake the feeling of uncertainty that had lodged itself deep into his subconscious.
He was worried about V.
Now that was something he never imagined he’d experience again...
As Dante and Vergil combed the space per Magnolia’s request to make sure there were no overt signs of demonic activity still present in the building, the youngest Descendant of Sparda went over a vague mental checklist in his mind. On the top of that list was the obvious question of where the hell V was going to go for the time being. While the Devil May Cry office was an obvious choice, there was the issue of Vergil’s undeniably recent return to contend with. Nero didn’t even need to ask if Dante knew where Vergil was staying at his office right now. They hadn’t been home long enough to see to that. For all the young white-haired man knew, his father had evolved to no longer require sleep during his time in the underworld. But V was going to be a different story. He just knew it. He had always been a different story; an exception to every rule.
“Hey, Magnolia,” Nero called to the alchemist as she packed up the last of her supplies,” Should I be worried that he looks like he’s in a coma or something?”
The woman in question shook her head as she closed the buckle clasps on her carrying case. “Being in a coma is no laughing matter, little one. Relatively speaking, it’s about as close to passing into Purgatorio as one can possibly get without actually being deceased.”
Nero chuckled to himself, nodding with an amused look on his face. “You don’t have to tell me that. I spent some time that way myself a little while back. Woke up one night to this one,” Nero said as he gestured towards V,” sitting in my window reading a book ready to offer me a job like I wasn’t already half-dead already or something. That’s how we met.”
Magnolia didn’t know what to say to that. While one part of her wanted to know what the hell had happened to him that ended with him comatose in the first place, her mind couldn’t help but find humor in the mental image of a person contracting someone to fight the envoys of the Underworld in their sickbed after seemingly breaking into their home. She decided that she would ask for more details when all parties involved were capable of speaking. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m glad to see that you're faring so well, dear. Hopefully, there will be fewer close calls in your future.”
Nero wasn’t entirely sure if she was being sarcastic or if the Alchemist was genuinely happy for his good health. She just had one of those voices, and the accent wasn’t helping in the slightest. “Thanks, I guess. Anyway, does bringing someone back from the afterlife or whatever come with a manual, because I feel like there’s something I’m missing in all of this.”
It was her turn to laugh now. She pulled the rolling case into an upright position and headed towards the front entrance, presumably heading to the van or some other form of transportation. After all, it was unlikely that she had walked here carrying all of these supplies from nearly twenty miles away up a gradual slope. Nero carefully lifted V bridal style and followed her. Somehow he weighed even less than he had originally estimated, if that was at all possible. Maybe after he had clothing on, his body weight would be more substantial.
As cold as it was starting to get both inside and outside of the building, leaving him laying on bare concrete in -well, nothing- was probably a bad idea. As he followed her, she stopped, snickering to herself at the situation at hand, and decided to answer his question. “He should be more or less fine now. The hard part was relocating his soul to another plane of existence,” She spoke calmly, in a manner reminiscent of a professor giving a lecture,” The poor thing is going to be whether weak for a while though. Any inborn gifts he possessed prior to all this nonsense will trickle back in gradually, though in the meantime he will be effectively human. No passive regeneration, sixth sense, or anything like that for at least a week or so. I’m no doctor, but I’m going to take the initiative here and recommend bed rest. Extensively. What he just endured is taxing on the mind and body in every way conceivable, even for someone young and in good health. Don’t be surprised if he experiences dizzy spells or fainting. Proper nutrition is helpful, but this could still take a while.”
Nero nodded to himself as he took in the information she had just given him. Nothing seemed unreasonable, but it did clarify one thing for him. He needed to talk to Dante and Vergil. He chuckled to himself as he followed Magnolia, garnering a curious glance from her as they exited the building. “I fail to see the humor in this.”
In response to her statement, Nero smirked knowingly. “It’s not funny, it’s ironic,” He said. Her blank repose signaled that he needed to elaborate.” What I mean is you said he might faint and that for someone “in good health” this could be a lot to go to, right?”
She nodded, barely noticing the transition between the indoor and outdoor lighting as they exited the building and stepped out into the parking lot. “Yes. I said that. Why?”
Nero approached the van, using his foot to knock on the side door and signal Nico to open it. “Well, it’s ironic because he’s not “in good health” to start with. He’s walked with a cane the entire time I’ve known him and he’s constantly coughing or tripping over himself. Not to be an asshole or anything, but if I’m magnetically attracted to stairs, then he’s magnetically attracted to the ground ’cause that’s where he spends a lot of his free time.”
Magnolia blinked, her wide eyes filled with a sudden understanding and sympathy that she made no effort of hiding. Suddenly, what little desire she held to know how the young man before her had met his end fled her. It was unusual for someone his age to walk with a cane, especially one with a measurable amount of demon blood coursing through his veins. When he was more stable, she would need to take the time to try and consult with him. Perhaps there was something she could do to help…
As Nico opened the van door, Dante and Vergil exited the building. They arrived just in time to watch Nico’s frankly astounding facial expression at the sight of the presumably deceased demon slayer. “Well fuck,” she said as she stepped back to give the onboarding party room,” Every time you get in this van Nero, some weird shit happens; I swear. How the hell did yall- you know what? I don’t even wanna know! Let’s get outta here. Where are we headed?”
Magnolia pointed across the parking lot to the side of the building. They couldn’t see what she was pointing at, but they could only assume that it was her means of transportation. “I just wanted to see you off. I need to get back to my shop. Come see me later. And call me if you need anything,” She glanced at the oldest Son of Sparda, her eyes narrowing harshly,” Except you, Vergil. Your allowed casual visits at most.”
With that, she handed a slip of folded paper to Nero before hurrying off across the parking lot. Nico snickered briefly before looking at her passengers. She still needed a destination. Nero glanced between the twins and his friend as he laid V down on the couch. The summoner coughed weakly, teasing the possibility of opening his eyes for a moment before exhaling and settling back into his previous state, only this time more asleep than awake. Nero watched him for a moment before nodding to himself, his resolve towards the decision he had been teetering back and forth on now absolute. “... I think me and Nico should take V back to Fortuna with us.”
Dante and Vergil did a double-take, seemingly more surprised at his sudden uptake in initiative than offended by the statement. Dante seemed to consider quietly the statement, while Vergil seemed more apprehensive.
“Why?” The eldest Son of Sparda said bluntly. He was clearly unconvinced.
Nero settled into a sitting position of the floor with his side against the couch, seemingly uninterested in heaving V’s proximity. Whether this was a conscious or subconscious decision or not remained to be seen, but he did so nonetheless. “Because there is a metric shit ton less demonic activity there than there is in Redgrave and Capulet and because I’m the only one here who isn’t going to get in an argument with my brother and literally destroy my own house. Magnolia said he needs bed rest and all that shit, and the only peaceful kinda peaceful place is my house. That, and your extra bedroom is taken, Dante,” Nero tilted his head in his father’s direction,” And I just happen to have an extra room at my place since someone decided to scare my kids back into one room!”
Vergil glanced away at the last statement, still unwilling to think about the mental damage he had probably inflicted upon those wide-eyed, chatty, orphans. “So you actually believe that three actual children can be that well behaved and we can't?”
Nero didn’t hesitate to nod in agreement. “Yea, because when I turn on the tv, they sit down and watch it. You can’t even turn a TV off without unplugging it, and your only means of communication with your own brother is stabbing each other to death. Plus, Dante’s doors get kicked in like every fucking week and he blasts loud ass music all the damn time. That’s literally the opposite or a restful environment!”
Dante shrugged incredulously. As much as he’d like to make some sort of witty comeback, Nero wasn’t exactly incorrect. Vergil closed his eyes as if he were deep in thought for a long moment as Nico tried not to laugh at this whole situation from the driver’s seat. Everyone in this family was a walking disaster and it was amazing that they had survived this long. After a minute that felt like a lifetime, Vergil sighed and leaned back against the window next to Dante who was now sitting down across from the couch and searching for a magazine to pretend to read to avoid this uncomfortable conversation. “... Do not disappoint me, Nero… I do not give my trust light.”
Dante interjected with a quick “no he really doesn’t” before continuing to reread his magazine for the millionth time. Vergil shot him a quick glare before returning his gaze to Nero. There was no humor present in his demeanor. Nero glanced between him and V before nodding slowly in agreement. “I’m not going to.”
-~-
It had taken almost every ounce of daylight to drop Dante and Vergil off and then head back to the pier. And their timing couldn’t have been better as the ferry was stopping with the next round trip. The possibility of a thunderstorm had halted most water traffic, and all water transport between the island and the mainland was due to cease immediately upon the vessel’s return. That left just enough time to sneak one last trip in.
As the ship was docking, Nero called Kyrie to alert her of their arrival and to inform her that they would have another houseguest for a while. As expected, she didn’t protest the idea. In fact, she seemed thrilled, though that could be because Nero hadn’t elaborated on the context of the stay or who was coming over. V and Kyrie had never met one another, despite the fact that V had come to their home once before. But it had been during the middle of the night and the young summoner had been in something of a hurry at the time. There had been no time for pleasantries back then. But that was about to change. Hopefully.
As they pulled up to the onboarding ramp, Nero gave Nico the closest thing he could to a serious look. Before he could ask her not to go flying off the ramp, she disembarked, taking the ramp for perhaps the first time ever. Nero was utterly flabbergasted. “Nico, what the fuck?!”
Nico put her cigarette out in the ashtray she had placed in one of the cup holders. “What is it this time? If I drive carefully, you bitch at me. If I don’t, you bitch at me. Are ya crazy or somethin’? If you think you can do better, then you drive next time and I’ll take a nap in the back with him!”
Nero stared at her incredulously as she pulled around the corner and headed towards their shared residence. Nico absolutely never under any circumstance drove like a normal human being. He wasn’t sure if knowing that she could do that made him feel relieved or upset. She could have just driven the van like this the entire time he had known her? What the absolute fuck?
“So ya gonna keep starin’ at me like that or what?” Nico asked casually. Nero was at a loss for words and it showed.
As the van pulled onto the street that they called home, Nero stood up and walked over to V. Despite the fact that he still hadn’t woken up, he now looked more asleep than unconscious. Or at least that was what Nero thought. When he had first been brought back, he looked distressed, uncomfortable even. Now he seemed more at ease. At the very least, his breathing had been steady and he hadn’t coughed in at least an hour. He seemed stable. Nero couldn’t help but wonder if he was just a very deep sleeper and had been taking a much-needed nap this entire time. He doubted it, but still. Now that he thought about it, this was the first time he had actually seen the summoner sleep. During their time together during the Redgrave city incident, they had taken the occasional break, but V had been so preoccupied with his book that he hadn’t even sat down, always choosing to lean against the stove in the van’s kitchenette instead. Vergil had the book now, perhaps using it as a bargaining tool for later. He wasn’t much of a talker, a fact that had bothered Nero when they had first met. Who would have ever guessed that they’d be in the situation that they were in now, Nero bringing him to stay at his place? Wild shit happened sometimes.
“It’s just good to know that you can actually drive. Though I still don’t understand how you ever got a license.” Nero said as they pulled into the back alley that led to their driveway. For once, the door was open. Kyrie must have let it up after their conversation on the phone earlier. Nico climbed out of her seat and headed over to the side door, opening it and then hoping down to hold it open for Nero.
“Yea, well I wasn’t tryin’ to knock him around too much. He already walks with a cane.” Nico said as she stepped back towards the rear of the van. With the large vehicle inside of the garage, space was at a premium, and carrying someone required more room than normal. Nero fixed his jacket around V and scooped him up, nearly bashing his legs against the kitchen cabinet as he turned. The youngest Descendant of Sparda cringed to himself. That was one thing the two of them seemed to have in common to some degree. They were both clumsy as hell.
Taking a few cues from his close call a moment prior, he descended the stairs carefully and headed towards the inside door. Nico closed the door behind him and squeezed past them, heading to open the door for them. She nearly walked right into Kyrie as she did so. The young red-haired woman was carrying a stack of cardboard boxes and Nico had nearly sent her crashing to the floor as the door caught her in the side. She set the boxes down on the bench behind her and stepped back out of the way, clearly startled.
“My bad Kyrie,” Nico said as she looked her over for injuries,” I couldn’t see you!”
Kyrie smiled brightly and gestured towards the boxes. “You’re just fine, Nico. The children and I were cleaning out the extra room. There wasn’t really much in there, so I was hoping I’d be done before you arrived. These were the last three boxes. All of this was going on the empty shelves in the garage-”
Nico eagerly grabbed the stack of boxes as Nero entered behind her. “Ok, I’ll take care of it for you,” the young dark-haired woman said as she stepped out behind Nero and out into the garage. Kyrie was going to inform her that she could take care of it herself, but Nico disappeared behind the closed door before she could. The young redhead shook her head and giggled to herself as she turned to face Nero. During her time here, she had truly come to enjoy Nico’s extreme personality. She was a joy to be around.
The moment she caught sight of the white-haired young man her domestic partner was carrying, she went wide-eyed, her head crooking to the side in surprise. Who in Sparda’s name was this newcomer? Nero shifted anxiously. Maybe it was better if he just spit it out and got it over with? “Hey so… this is V, the guy I told you about when I came back after everything,” He said cautiously, unsure of how she was taking all of this,” It turns out that being dead is more complicated than everybody thinks, so he’s alive again. And… he’s kinda my brother so…”
Kyrie stared at him blankly. That was a little too much for her to take in all at once. She glanced down at their sleeping guest, leaning over him to get a better look. That made sense. They did have the same color hair, even though his looked a little whiter than Neros did to her. She was totally taken aback at the implications of what Nero had just said. He’d come back from the dead? Nero had told her Vergil had done that at one point, so the idea wasn’t completely foreign to her, but Nero had a brother? In the entire time that she had known him, she would have never guessed that he had siblings. He had always been so… alone. After all, being an orphan made it very difficult to locate your original family. It made her wonder what Nero must be thinking about all of this. As startled as she was, it had to be several times worse for him.
She smiled softly and gestured towards the guest room. It was on the opposite side of the house from the dining room. Being the only room on this floor and having its own small ensuite bathroom, it had been the natural choice for a guest room. She patted Nero gently as he passed her before turning towards the dining room. “It’s okay. I know you did the right thing, Nero. I’ll go get some extra blankets. I put a sheet and some pillows on the bed after I finished dusting, but I didn’t get a chance to do anything else.”
Nero stared at her as she walked off for a moment, relieved that she had taken that so well. She’d have probably told him off for his reaction if she’d been present at the time. Her understanding meant the world to him. “It’s okay, Kyrie. You do enough as it is.”
She waved at him over her shoulder as she rounded the corner into the next room and disappeared. He used his foot to nudge open the door and walked, taking a moment to look around. Aside from the built-in bookcase that had always been in the room near the door and the bed that jutted out into the center of the room, the entire room was spotless. The large window on the far side of the room that overlooked the small side yard where the children normally played was open, likely to let in the fresh air. Nero laid V down and sat at the foot of the bed, only now really registering how unreal this entire situation seemed to him. A moment later, Kyrie returned with a stack of about six blankets. Nero raised an eyebrow at her as she stuffed them into one of the open shelves on the bookcase and then used one to cover him up. It was a plush grey knitted blanket that she had made herself a while back. As soon as he was covered up, Nero unwrapped his jacket from around him and tucked it under his arm, returning his attention to Kyrie. She shrugged at his obvious confusion.
“I didn’t want him to be cold,” She said simply, gesturing towards the oversized stash of warm, thick blankets,”... Why was he wrapped in your coat? Is he okay?”
Nero looked over at V. He had stirred slightly, pulling the soft blanket tighter around himself. Now that Nero thought about it, Kyrie was probably correct. It had been abnormally cold for the last few hours. Having no clothes on had probably been uncomfortable, to say the least. “... I think he’s going to be alright. Supposedly he just needs to rest” Nero glanced over at the pile of blankets again, nodding to himself,” Thanks for the blankets. He doesn’t have any clothes on, so that’s probably going to be good for him. Probably should have said that before...”
Kyrie blushed bright red. “OH. I’m sorry then! I’ll go see if I can find him something!”
Before he could say anything, Kyrie hurried out of the room, closing the door behind her. He shook his head and laughed to himself. Poor kyrie. She probably felt like she had violated V’s personal space. He stood up and pulled an extra cover from the pile, tossing it over him. Better safe than sorry. As he leaned over him to fix the covers, V turned over and brushed his arm over him, exhaling audibly. Nero moved V’s arm off of his hand and continued, paying him little mind. As he sat up to assess his work, V gripped his wrist weakly. Assuming that he was simply shifting in his sleep again, he sat up and moved to step away and towards the door. But as he tried to pull away, V’s grip tightened. Nero turned his attention from the door back to the bed and nearly jumped out of his skin in fright. A familiar set of green eyes was looking back up at him.
V was awake. And he looked absolutely wrecked.
-~-
This chapter was so fun to write that I had to stop here and immediately start working on the next chapter. They will only be a day apart, so don’t worry, I won’t keep you in suspense for very long! Again, thank you so much for your overwhelming support. Hopefully, this chapter wasn’t too slow for you. But the good news is that V is actually awake now, so you know what that means. DIALOGUE! See you guys on May 22nd for chapter Eight! Wow, I can’t believe we’re already on chapter eight...
#Soliloquy#Devil May Cry#Devil May Cry 5#Devil May Cry V#Post Devil may Cry 5#Post Devil May Cry V#Dante Devil May Cry#Dante Devil May Cry 5#Dante Devil May Cry V#Dante Sparda#Dante#Vergil Devil May Cry#Vergil Devil May Cry 5#Vergil Devil May Cry V#Vergil#Vergil Sparda#Nero Devil May Cry#Nero Devil May Cry 5#Nero Devil May Cry V#Nero#Nero Sparda#V Devil May Cry#V Devil May Cry V#V Devil May Cry 5#V#Vitale#V Sparda#Vitale Sparda#Post DMC5#Post DMCV
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The Negative
PART ONE
Read on AO3 here.
Summary: Two-shot inspired by the song from “Waitress.” In which Tonks knows something’s wrong—she just doesn’t want to admit it to herself. Good thing Molly and Fleur are there to offer some support.
Author’s Note: This fic is inspired by the song from “Waitress,” the musical. If you haven’t heard it, definitely give it a listen. Some of the dialogue is included here. This work is focused on Tonks as a character, because she was really underdeveloped in the last book. Since we clearly saw Remus freak out when he found out about Teddy, this is me assuming that Tonks did, too. I tried to get the timeline right as best as possible. It’s a bit confusing in the Deathly Hallows, tbh. Anyways, here’s the story. Equal parts fluff and angst. I’m new to fanfic writing, so any kind feedback is appreciated! P.S. I refuse to write Fleur’s dialogue in that horrid French-style that JK used. I omitted her “h’s,” but that’s it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Waitress. What I do own is…nothing. I own nothing.
“Come now, poppet. It’s better to know,” Molly cooed as she rubbed Tonks’ back in slow, soothing circles.
“It is probably nothing,” Fleur nodded encouragingly.
Tonks withdrew her head from between her knees to glare at the Frenchwoman. It sure as hell wasn’t nothing.
The last few months of her life had been absolutely perfect. After a long and arduous battle, Tonks had finally dragged Remus down the aisle. Well…it was a lot more romantic than she made it sound. The couple had wed in a small, intimate ceremony earlier that summer. They both knew there was no stopping the impending darkness of war that was fast approaching, but nonetheless, had decided to spend whatever time they had left together: a massive “up yours” to Voldie and his goons.
True, life since their union had been a bit hectic. When they weren’t working undercover for the Order, they spent all of their time together in their bedroom—the only room in their small London flat that got any proper use. Undoubtedly, that’s how Tonks had ended up in her current predicament. After being late, followed by several days of morning sickness, she was fairly certain she was pregnant.
“Here, we have the test, we’ll soon find out. It will all be fine.” The kindly ginger handed her a cookie and a cup of tea.
Merlin bless Molly Weasley. After concluding that her illness may be more than a common stomach bug, Tonks had visited The Burrow straight away. She wasn’t exactly sure why. She could have gone to her parents’ place, both of whom would have been thrilled about their daughter’s growing family. Somehow, though, the prospect of going to her mum and dad with such news had terrified her. It made the situation more real. And Tonks was not ready to accept that any of this was really happening.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want kids. In all honesty, she had never really thought about it. She still felt like a kid herself. Plus, with the current violence sweeping their world, now was certainly not the time to be thinking about new life. She had never even discussed the prospect of a family with Remus. But, she was sure that even if he did want children—something she slightly doubted, given his anxieties about his condition—he would agree that now was nowhere near the proper time to start a family. Oh Merlin. She hadn’t yet considered how Remus would react. Her nausea returned. She groaned and brought her head back between her knees.
“Oh my, is she going to be alright?” Fleur questioned Molly as if Tonks wasn’t there. “She looks like she is going to faint! Poor thing!”
“Maybe I’d feel better if I broke your nose,” Tonks growled.
“It must be the ‘ormones,” Fleur remarked, throwing a look of pity in Tonks’s direction. That did it. Tonks rose from her chair, fully intending to draw her wand and wipe that look off of the blonde’s pretty little face. Molly was quicker. She firmly placed herself in between the two younger witches.
“Alright now, let’s all calm down and let Tonks take her test.”
“Calm down? Calm down?!” Tonks was shaking. “How can I calm down! This is a bloody disaster! I’m… I’m not ready for any of this. Remus isn’t ready!” Her voice broke. She collapsed back into her chair. Merlin’s pants, she had never been so emotional before in her life! Perhaps Fleur had been right about the hormones.
Molly kneeled in front of the anxious witch and stroked her hair. “We don’t even know if there’s anything to panic about yet. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
“So, you think there’s a chance I’m not pregnant?”
Molly pursed her lips. “Well there’s always a chance,” she replied, unconvincingly. “But you’ll feel better once you know for sure. Isn’t that right, Fleur? Don’t you think Tonks should take the test and find out?”
“Oh yes. It will be much better to know for sure. I ‘ope you drank enough of your tea. Apparently, this Muggle test requires you to pee on it! Quite odd!” Fleur cheerfully opened the little box containing the pregnancy test they had hastily picked up at the pharmacy in town. Tonks was hoping to avoid a trip to St. Mungo’s until she deemed it absolutely necessary. There were too many prying eyes at the hospital for her liking. Merlin forbid some loose-lipped colleague of hers spotted her in the Magical Maternity Ward…
She sat up properly. “Alright. What do I do with that thing?”
Molly walked across the small kitchen to Fleur’s side. “Read us the instructions, Fleur. What does the box say?”
“’N’insérez pas le bâton dans vôtre…’”
“English, Fleur!”
“’Do not insert the test stick into your vagina.’”
Molly rolled her eyes, exasperated. “Wow! Thank you, Fleur!”
“I am sorry. That is obvious…I am getting nervous!”
“You’re getting nervous?” Tonks wasn’t sure she had made the right decision by coming to Molly’s after all.
At least all of the antics allowed for a momentary distraction. She joined the Weasley women on the other side of the kitchen. “Fine. Gimme the damn stick!” She yanked it from Fleur’s hands and headed for the loo, slamming the door behind her.
Sitting down on the toilet, she stared at the small object in her hands. What would this mean for her marriage? Was a kid really something she was ready to handle? She was snapped out of the beginnings of what would have been the day’s fifty-seventh panic attack by the sound of scuffling outside the bathroom door.
“I cannot ‘ear peeing. ‘As she done it yet?”
“Shhhh, give her some privacy! She’s clearly terrified, poor thing. Why, I remember when I found out about Bill…”
Oh, for the love of…
“I can hear you, you know!” Tonks shouted. The whispering stopped. Footsteps quickly retreated from the door. After a few more moments of existential crisis, she finally took the test.
Tonks emerged from the loo and found her companions sitting inconspicuously at the table. Molly was staring blankly at a copy of Witch Weekly, while Fleur was holding the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, whistling. Both were failing miserably in their attempts to act casual. Fleur peeked her head out above the paper. “Oh, are you finished? I ‘ave been reading the news this whole time. I did not notice. Did you know Rita Skeeter is writing a book about Dumbledore?”
Tonks rolled her eyes. “Fascinating. So, how do I find out the results?” She shook the stick, which she had wrapped in toilet paper, as it was now covered in her pee. She wrinkled her nose. Did Muggles really live like this?
Fleur dug the paper instructions out of the empty cardboard box. “You will ‘ave to wait three minutes, and then lines will appear. One line means it is negative and two means it is positive.”
“Well, let’s focus on the negative, shall we?” Tonks sarcastically quipped, flopping down beside Molly at the table. She picked up The Daily Prophet that Fleur had been pretending to read and immediately regretted it. The headlines stood out in thick, black ink as she flipped through the pages.
Five Wizards Killed in Mystery Attack
The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore: Rita Skeeter Reports
Dolores Umbridge Continues Crusade Against Half-Breeds, Muggle-Borns
She hastily crumpled up the newspaper and tossed it into the hearth. Molly and Fleur stared at her, surprised.
“Piece of rubbish, anyways,” Tonks whispered. In reality, she had been frightened. Too many horrible things were happening in the world, and the thought of bringing a child into being at such a time felt extremely irresponsible. “How long has it been?”
“Thirty-six seconds.”
“Dammit.”
“Thirty-eight seconds…”
“Okay!”
“Thirty-nine…”
“Let’s change the subject, shall we?” Molly came to the rescue, yet again. “Fleur how is construction on the cottage going?”
“Oh, it is quite wonderful! Bill ‘as been marvelous. ‘E ‘as built it so our room overlooks the sea. It is very beautiful. I cannot wait to move in for real. And I am sure you will be glad when we are out of your ‘air, Molly.”
“Oh, no, I will miss you both dearly,” Molly assured her daughter-in-law, though the hint of excitement in her words betrayed her. Though the two women had got on much better since Bill’s attack, their very different personalities often clashed. It was probably best for the both of them to get some distance.
Tonks’s leg was bouncing up and down at the table as she fruitlessly attempted to take her mind off of the time that seemed to be moving cursedly slow. “How long has it been, now?”
“One minute and twenty-three seconds.”
Tonks groaned impatiently. “How’d I ever get myself into this mess?”
“Well, did you not use protection? I thought you and Remus were very careful about that sort of thing,” Fleur innocently questioned. She immediately winced, and Tonks was quite sure that Molly had kicked the girl underneath the table.
The Auror felt her face flush. “Well, he got me drunk,” she replied, defensively. “I do stupid things when I drink…”
“Stupid things, like sleep with your ‘usband?” Fleur giggled. The girl was ballsy, Tonks had to give her credit. If she hadn’t been filled with crippling anxiety, she would have appreciated Fleur’s positivity and wit.
Molly suppressed a laugh. “Focus, Fleur. We’re trying to take Tonks’s mind off of her… predicament.” Molly chose her words carefully. “Remember. We’re focusing on the negative!” She smiled optimistically at the metamorphmagus.
“Well, the test could be negative. What if…maybe, ah, what is the expression…maybe Remus’s wand does not cast any spells…if you know what I mean. That would be lucky!”
The other two women choked. Tea spurted out of Tonks’s nose. Molly huffed. “Oh yes, miraculously lucky, to get away with an unprotected f—“
“Funny how one night can ruin your entire life,” Tonks lamented. How she was going to survive this last minute, she didn’t know. Fighting Death Eaters was less nerve-wracking.
“Just, calm down, goddammit!” Molly snapped, clearly getting anxious herself. There was only so much complaining the mother of seven could take. “Let’s all just pull ourselves together! Now,” she chided.
The three women sat in silence, shocked by Molly’s outburst. Tonks had the unshakable feeling of having been scolded by her mother. She gazed at her hands shamefully, picking at her fingernails until Fleur spoke once more. “The test should be finished.”
Tonks’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. “I can’t look. One of you do it.”
Fleur eagerly reached for the test, but Molly held her back. Her face was stern. “You can, and you will, Tonks. It will all be alright.” Her eyes softened.
“It was only one night,” Fleur added. That did nothing to assuage Tonks’s fears. She could hear the seconds ticking by on the clock. Her stomach was in knots. But, she knew that they were right. She had to find out the truth. Whatever the result.
“One line. One line,” she chanted to herself. Fleur nodded encouragingly. Molly remained still, her face unreadable.
Tonks picked up the test, carefully unwrapping it, as if it were a Hippogriff that would attack if she approached it too quickly. “This is it.”
She turned the stick over in her hands, only vaguely disgusted by the fact that she had peed on it not five minutes earlier.
“Shit.”
#nymphadora tonks#remadora#remus lupin x nymphadora tonks#molly weasley#fleur delacour#remus x tonks#teddy lupin's origin story#Harry Potter#harry potter fanfiction#teddy lupin#fluff#kind of a song fic#waitress#female friendship#yay badass women!#humor#hp fanfic#hp#my writing
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At long last I have finished Yoru’s biography sheet. It’s a little on the longer side but I’m proud of it.
Anyone checking in for the first time, Gesshoku Yoru is my shinigami OC for the anime/manga Full Moon wo Sagashite.
Shoutout to @starspatter for helping me along the way <3
Trigger warning: mentions of depression and suicide
Background:
Yoru exists in a prequel story to both the manga and anime for Full Moon wo Sagashite. This prequel contains a slightly different origin for Shinigami. Instead of ‘hatching’ as adults, those who end their lives reawaken as children again and begin the early stages of their training from a young age. They are called “Fledglings.”
Physical Description:
A girl of average height and build with black hair and eyes to match. As a child she wears her hair in two buns. Long bangs parted to the left. She dresses in Victorian-style children’s dresses that are dark (usually black but sometimes blue) in color. Wears either mary janes or small boots with bat wings. Also wears a bat hairclip.
As an adult her hair is short, though she still has her long bangs. They part to the left. Her clothing style is still gothic, but purple and black but takes inspiration from steampunk as well. No gears but lots of buckles and frills. Sleeveless gloves with lace around the wrists. A black and blue corset with belts and a layered dress that’s short in front and flares out in the back. Wears boots that come up to below the knee. Also wears a mini top hat over one of her bat ears, decorated with a purple five-petal flower that resembles the “flower of forgetfulness” in the anime. Her hat also has two feathers: a black and purple plume and a smaller black feather. Again, since she works in the pediatrics unit Yoru has small black bat ears; one is visible and one is covered by her hat.
Unlike other Shinigami, Yoru has bat wings.
Yoru’s updated design:
Personality:
Human – shy, crippled by anxiety that often led her to choose the withdrawn/polite response over expressing herself. Tried to embrace her interests and gothic fashion-style but grew discouraged overtime, feeling much like an outcast. Had no close friends so relied heavily on her family for support.
Shinigami – as a fledgling, Yoru was very shy for quite a while. Meroko (and Yoru’s eventual budding feelings for her) pushed her to express herself and embrace the other Fledglings as a new family. Takuto joining also helped; Yoru saw a lot of herself early on in the quiet Fledgling and went out of her way to (politely) include him the way Meroko did her.
As an adult doubts and depression follow Yoru around like a dark cloud. Her close-knit support system has strained over the years, though she remains on good terms with the other Shinigami. Her relationship with Meroko grows painful as well as her feelings were never reciprocated, not that she ever told her.
____
Relationships:
Shinigami
Meroko – Yoru’s first real friend, her best friend and one she eventually falls in love with. Calls her “Mero-chan” as a child and occasionally in adulthood. Meroko remains in large part unaware of Yoru’s feelings. Though she ends up forgetting Yoru she left the strongest impression, maintaining a sensitive heart. Meroko cries for reasons she in part doesn’t understand when Izumi gifts her a new outfit. In the anime she reunites with Yoru twice: once unaware during her quest for the Flower of Forgetfulness and again, officially, as an angel.
Izumi – A rival for Meroko’s affection. She considers him a friend in adulthood. Isn’t aware Izumi knows of her feelings for Meroko. He sympathizes with her, understanding her dissatisfaction and quest for answers. Witnesses Yoru’s final moments. Her disappearance makes an impression and leaves him cynical and even antagonistic about lasting love of any kind. He’s also the only one who remembers her and this may be in part due to his own retained memories from his human life. He tries in his own ways to get their friends to remember, going so far as to give Meroko an outfit largely inspired by Yoru’s. His nickname for her is “Yo-run.”
Takuto – As the youngest Fledgling of the group Yoru has a soft spot for him and at times dotes him like a big sister would. Is unaware he has a crush on her. In adulthood she finds him easiest to relate to as he triggers the least negativity in her and struggles with his own obstacles as a Shinigami-in training. Nonetheless her presence is painful to him as he still holds a waning candle for her and may suspect why she never returned his own feelings.
Sheldan – The head of Pediatrics and the teacher/primary caretaker of the young Fledglings. Yoru is intimidated by him at first and treats him with a distant respect in adulthood until she starts investigating her human life. Grows secretive around him like the others and paranoid/angry as well. She wonders why he assigned her pediatrics and resents his attitude towards her failures.
Mystere – Yoru doesn’t know Mystere but she has heard of her, though not by name. As the Goddess of Death Yoru considers the idea of her eerie, mystic and intimidating. Towards the end of her life blames her along with Sheldan, holding her responsible in part for their suffering as Shinigami purely because of her status.
___
Humans:
Mother – Yoru’s relationship with her mother changed day to day. Both loved one another very much and Yoru had many fond childhood memories of spending time with her. However, Yoru’s mother was a more traditional woman and did not always approve of Yoru’s peculiar interests and fashion choices. That said, they continued to bond over a love of holidays and holiday parties.
Father – Yoru’s relationship with her father was benign but empty: he spent much of her childhood working so she didn’t see him often and as an adult she was away. Her father largely expressed his love for his children in the form of material gifts.
Little brother – Yoru and her little brother did not always get along just like most siblings. That said she was fond of him and more often than not doted on him the way her parents did her. There were at times some form of jealousy: being the eldest by quite a few years sometimes she felt they favored him over her. When this occurred she’d tell herself that wasn’t true: her parents cared deeply for her, they just showed support in different ways because she was older.
Kouyama Mitsuki – One might argue Yoru’s relationship with the other Shinigami foreshadowed their meeting and helping Mitsuki. Her name parallel’s Yoru’s surname: “Full Moon” and “Lunar Eclipse.” (or ‘eating the moon’ in Japanese.) They never officially meet but one might argue in the anime they did unofficially as Mitsuki watched Meroko’s journey into the underworld and sang along with her...
____
Life before becoming a Shinigami:
Gesshoku Yoru was born in the late 1960s. She was the eldest daughter of an upper-middle class Japanese family. She had one younger brother. Her father worked for a corporate company and he and his family were well-liked by their community. They would throw extravagant holiday parties that Yoru looked forward to every year. The family was close within itself as well and Yoru’s parents doted on her and her brother. Yoru’s father occasionally traveled for work and sometimes brought his family with him. When Yoru was a young teenager she accompanied him to England. Already interested all things dark and spooky she took a liking to the budding gothic fashion and took this interest back with her to Japan.
While the family was close, however, Yoru had difficulty maintaining relationships with her peers. Many of her friendships felt superficial, too polite and/or distant. Yoru suspected the friends she had hung around due to her parents’ job and money. They certainly weren’t interested in any of her passions, least of all her dark/gothic fashion, finding it eccentric and a little creepy.
Yoru lived with her family until young adulthood where she eventually moved into her own apartment. Her parents encouraged this and had money saved for her to live on while she made a start in the world. Yoru lived by herself, further isolating her from potential relationships. Far enough away she couldn’t visit home casually, Yoru looked forward to the family parties: the few times she felt she really belonged.
During the summer of her first year on her own Yoru’s family died while on vacation. The vacation home they were renting caught fire. This devastated Yoru: she’d been looking forward to the yearly Halloween party more than anything else. To make matters worse, shortly after their deaths the company her father worked for was charged with fraud, of which her father participated. When word of this got out the scandal stained her family name and those whom Yoru remained in contact with cut her out completely.
Yoru took her own life early on Halloween. Desperate to bring back her warm memories in some way Yoru tried to host her family’s Halloween party anyway, throwing herself into decorating (as best she could) and sending out invitations. No one RSVP’d. Distraught and alone she visited her empty home that night, hoping guests would show up anyway. They didn’t. Authorities found her the next day, crumpled on the steps in the front room. She was twenty-one.
Cause of death: an overdose of sleeping pills she’d been taking nightly following the death of her family.
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Life as a Shinigami:
Yoru hatched as an amnesiac fledgling, a little girl of six or seven. She was greeted by Sheldan and the tiny Meroko Yui. Yoru took a lot of convincing to come out of her shell—literally and figuratively. Eventually the two brought Yoru to their headquarters where she was given a room and new clothes. Though she wouldn’t remember why, Yoru took a liking to the bat accessories as well as her gothic-victorian dresses. She took a liking to Meroko too. The pink-haired girl was her first earnest, honest friend and that planted the seed for a crush that would one day develop into unrequited love. Sometime before Izumi showed up both grew a tiny pair of wings: feathered for Meroko and bat for Yoru. Yoru was self-conscious about her wings from the start but Meroko encouraged her to embrace them (they suited her well!)
Yoru uses her surname for two reasons: as a fledging, her fascination with western culture lingered. Also, the scandal and trauma tied to her family name is what ultimately led to her death. Sheldan decided it might trigger her memory, so chose her given name for her instead.
Yoru and Meroko were there to greet Izumi, alongside Sheldan, although he didn’t warm up to them right away. Rather Izumi grew to be a pain in Yoru’s side, particularly when he started teasing/picking on/favoring Meroko. He even picked a nickname for her (‘Me-chan’) which to Yoru seemed like a variation of the one she’d given Merko.
Sometime later Sheldan took another Fledgling Shinigami under his wing: a little boy named Takuto. Quiet and smaller than the others he reminded Yoru of herself. She befriended Takuto and tried to make him feel welcome. Subconsciously he also reminded her of her brother and slipping into the big sister role again shed the rest of her shell. Soon enough Takuto shed his own shyness; he never grew wings, however and Yoru found this odd.
As the four Fledglings grew older Sheldan assigned them “junior” missions, pairing them off to see who worked best together. Yoru and Takuto struggled during this period and so when they started working on legitimate missions both trainees were permanently assigned to their more successful peers. Yoru worked with Meroko and Izumi with Takuto.
Yoru did not find success as a Shinigami: her bat wings and ears frightened children; some protested going with her and it in turn caused trouble for Sheldan. This upset Yoru greatly who wanted to succeed. Overtime she started resenting her appearance and slowly obsessed over why she grew bat wings instead of feathers. She began wondering if the answer lay in her human life. Her friends warned her to let it go before it became dangerous…but Yoru’s repeated almost-failures swayed her over their concerns. Yoru in part didn’t mind any would-be consequences; at this point she realized for sure however much Meroko loved her it would never be in a romantic way. That hurt more than any lost soul under her duty.
Yoru at first hid her investigation from her friends; Izumi was the first to clue into what she was doing. He didn’t confront her at first as he had his own secrets. When Yoru’s memories start to came back she hid this as well, along with what was happening to her.
Sometime before Yoru’s death Takuto was sent back to training. After she disappeared Izumi became Meroko’s replacement partner. Out of respect for Yoru and perhaps disgust/disappointment no one else remembered her he kept Meroko at a distance for a long time. Eventually he asked Sheldan to dissolve their team and Meroko became Takuto’s partner.
Though Yoru never received a definite answer by the end of her life she suspected she has bat wings for three reasons:
1) she’s always been interested in the spooky/gothic aesthetic and in some ways felt defined by it.
2) her human memories and sense of self revolved strongly around her parents’ holiday parties. She was looking forward to their Halloween party before they died and left the world mourning it alongside her family.
3) She died on Halloween.
When all of Yoru’s memories returned she conceded to becoming a ghost: there was nothing for her in the human world, nothing in the way of love and no career as a Shinigami. She intended to die alone but Izumi followed her and towards the very end of her life made his presence known. They held one last conversation and made some semblance of peace with one another.
Yoru’s strong feelings—both of love and pain--prevented her from turning into a traditional ghost. Instead her soul rooted itself in the underworld, transforming into the Flower of Forgetfulness which greatly resembled the flower on her hat. Her spirit lurked around it and her suffering manifested itself as dangerous obstacles for any who tried to retrieve it. True to her last name, the flower bloomed only during the Lunar Eclipse…and true to the flower, her childhood friends and supervising Shinigami lost their memories of her. Nonetheless, she left such a strong impression on them, a sense of something warm and lost and it might be why they rally around a girl named after the full moon.
In the anime storyline, when Meroko seeks out the Flower of Forgetfulness Yoru’s wounded spirit attacks her, trying to push her and the painful memories she triggers away. With Mitsuki’s help, Meroko prevails and when she plucks the flower free she frees Yoru’s soul as well. Picking the flower also restores everyone’s memories of Yoru although they would not realize it until sometime later…
Yoru’s spirit subconsciously follows Meroko to the human world: before the now-angel!Meroko flies away she spots her childhood friend, in tattered clothes and without wings or bat ears. Because she is an angel now Meroko can see ghosts (traditional shinigami cannot.) Meroko and Yoru run towards each other, tears in their eyes. They embrace and apologize—Yoru for losing faith in her best friend and Meroko for forgetting her.
Meroko uses her new angel magic to give Yoru a new outfit: black and gothic but mirroring Meroko’s new look. She takes Yoru’s hand and the two leave the world together.
#full moon wo sagashite#full moon o sagashite#meroko yui#izumi rio#gesshoku yoru#takuto kira#kouyama mitsuki#webbdesigns#inscryptions#yorumero
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A Once and Future Thing Epilogue (7/7)
Notes: After moping around about not being able to write, I got a nice kick in the pants and lovely coaxing from @optomisticgirl and finally had the strength to write the last bit of OAFT. It’s not a perfect ending and there’s a few loose ends but that’s life and this was never going to be something that would be solved over night and it hasn’t. I just feel it’s a good place to end this particular tale. I might write about Jim and Beth’s reconciliation later but I felt considering the connection between Beth and Killian, this interaction would be a better epilogue. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. A special thank you to @katie-dub, @welllpthisishappening, @shireness-says and @optomisticgirl for constantly listening to me whine and complain about this dumb ass fic.
Summary: Beth’s quest for vengeance against her boyfriend’s killer goes a bit haywire when she and her former best friend Jim Hawkins are sent into thirty years into the past. Now, they must figure out how to find a way back to the future without wrecking the first meeting between Beth’s parents, Emma Swan and Killian Jones.
Rating: T+
Chapters: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Epilogue | Coda I
Word Count: 3,500+
Two years and six months later...
It had been three years since Beth Jones had seen the Storybrooke Harbor but the sight of it was so familiar that tears nearly burned in the corners of her eyes. It seemed as if nothing had changed, as if time had stood still once more, since she had taken the Jolly Roger as her own, leaving the sleepy town and her family behind in order to slay Circe of Aeaea.
It was five-thirty in the morning on Saturday in late September and there was not a soul to be seen, not even one early morning fisherman. Beth preferred it this way. It allowed her to dock the Jolly without the awkwardness of human interaction. She still wasn’t certain she was going t be able to handle the amount of gawking and squawking that would inevitably happen as soon as her return was discovered. She needed a moment to herself, a second to gather what little sense she had left and settle herself.
As she went through the motions of docking maintenance and procedure, she watched the sun rise over the ocean with a soft smile. It helped somewhat relax her fraying nerves. She had been fraught with anxiety since she set sail and it was nice to have a small reprieve from the oppressive weight that had been pressing down on her shoulders.
However, the sense of calm she held was fleeting. The heaviness returned as her feet hit the dock, alongside a slight tremor in her fingers and an uncomfortable tightness in her belly. She let out a shaky breath, brushing her overgrown bangs out of her face and tucking them behind her ear.
She could do this.
She had to.
Beth was many things, but she had never been a coward and she wasn’t going to start now. Her list of sins was long enough as it was.
She stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of the marina and listening the ocean lap against the sides of each vessel. It was amazing just how little had changed in three years, including the sight of her old ship, the Cygnus, which was docked on the other end of the harbor.
The longer she stared at it, the more she trembled. There was a yearning inside her, an invisible rope that had bound itself around her and was tugging her towards the old ship Jim had given her all those years ago. The old girl looked like the rest of Storybrooke, untouched and simply waiting for her.
Thoughtlessly, she walked towards it; emotion twisted her stomach with every step. She was home but hadn’t truly sunken in yet. She had dreamed about being back in Storybrooke so many times before and a part of her was scared that she was going to wake up back in Montressor, still a realm away from the ones she had left behind.
And that was the kicker.
She had left them behind without so much of a goodbye or even a backwards glance. She had no idea what her family would say when they saw her or even if they wanted to see her at all. She couldn’t imagine that they would be too happy about the near three years of radio silence and she wasn’t certain she was emotionally prepared for that or for anything for that matter.
As she reached the dock where the Cygnus was moored, she was shocked to see that a gangplank had been placed down. She stared at it in a mixture of confusion and apprehension. Someone, more likely than not her father, was on the ship. She couldn’t imagine anyone, especially in her family being so careless as to leave a gangplank down if there was no one on board.
There wasn’t a soul crazy enough in Storybrooke to steal a ship…unless, of course, their name was Beth Jones.
She let out another heavy sigh and squared her shoulders. She was made of iron, the same hardened steel as the blade she carried. She wasn’t afraid of anyone.
Not even her father…
Who she hadn’t seen in three years…
Aside from her stint as Marty McFly.
(She wasn’t sure that counted.)
Tentatively, she walked onto the gangplank to board the ship. The old wood creaked and protested under her weight, complaining noisily with each step. Her heart hammered somewhat awkwardly in her chest; faster and slightly out of pace. It had been in her chest in nearly four months now, but it still felt strange and uncomfortable. The twin discomforts of her newly housed heart and her near-crippling anxiety made her feel like live grenade; ready to explode at any second.
As soon as she was halfway up the gangplank, she was greeted with a loud bark. The sound nearly paralyzed her as the Swan-Jones family dog Black Spot came trotting down from the quarterdeck. Her tail wagged vigorously as she spotted her. Black’s muzzle was now nearly white, and she was limping, but it was clear that despite her advanced age, she was still in good health and recognized Beth as one of the many children who used to antagonize her.
Without even thinking about it, Beth went down on her knees and outstretched her arms, making loud kissing noises. It came to her as natural as breathing. The old black lab quickened her pace and nearly attacked her face with hearty licks. Tears streamed down Beth’s cheeks as her arms curled around the dog, fingers digging into the grizzled coat. She stroked Black’s fur with violently shaking hands as she returned the dog’s kisses with some of her own, crying loud ugly sobs as she did so. A squall of emotion was storming inside of her and try as she might, she couldn’t seem to hold it at bay.
She was home.
“So, the prodigal daughter returns.”
Beth froze, not even bothering to chastise Black when she licked a little too close to her mouth for her likening. She looked up from her dog to meet her father’s eyes.
Killian Jones was no longer the cunning and opportunistic pirate that Beth had met two years ago when she had traveled into the past with Jim. His hair was a light shade of silver and there were more than a few lines in his face, but he was still handsome. There was a lot more bulk to his frame, no longer the slender man of his youth but Beth wouldn’t categorize him as chunky yet. Instead of pirate leather, he was wearing a ratty old t-shirt that had ‘Storybrooke Football’ emblazoned on the breast pocket and a pair of black jeans covered in wood varnish and had a few holes that were more obviously more accidental than style.
This Killian Jones wasn’t Captain Hook.
This man was her father.
Beth stood up stiffly, ignoring Black’s whine. A part of her wanted to run over and hug him, but she wasn’t sure how to interact with him anymore. She teetered on the spot, still emotionally fraught and unsure what to do.
“Yeah…” she said dumbly, her hand instinctively going to her right ear and scratching at it nervously.
“It’s been awhile.” His remark held a casual air but there was nothing casual about the intense look in his eyes as he regarded her. “I was wondering if you were ever going to show up. I figured you would someday if you weren’t dead. On the worst days, I thought you might be…but your mother was kind enough to remind me that you’re more like me than her and that you’re a survivor…which as you can imagine, wasn’t really that reassuring…but I think your grandmother’s philosophy is a bit infectious because I never lost hope…”
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” Beth said honestly.
“I don’t expect you would,” Killian said, sweeping over her with his eyes. When his younger self had done it, it had been lecherous, and she had felt a bit dirty. This time it was done out of obvious paternal concern, but she stiffened more nonetheless.
After a moment, he spoke again.
“How old are you?” he asked quietly.
As she did with any conversation where she was uncomfortable, Beth opened her mouth and a smart-ass response came out.
“Really Dad? I leave for a few years and you forget how old your only daughter is?”
He scowled and gave her an unimpressed look. Beth watched his hand curl into a fist at his side. She knew he wouldn’t do anything with it, but it was telling sign that she kicked a hornet’s nest as per usual.
“You and I both know that there are realms where there is no such thing as time and you can remain there ageless,” Killian replied. He licked his bottom lip, his tongue smoothing over a sore that was beginning to form. “I only ask because you look twenty-three, but your eyes look much older, love.”
“I’ve been through a lot of shit,” Beth replied after a small pause. “Shit that tends to age you, you know? I would say I went through hell, but you’ve actually been there and that would be a tad disrespectful.”
“Hell isn’t always a place, Elizabeth,” he replied softly. “Sometimes it’s a state of mind.”
Beth shifted slightly, focusing back on the dog at her feet. She bent over a bit and scratched Black behind the ears. The dog let out a pleased whining noise and leaned back in order to give Beth more room to maneuver.
“I can’t believe she’s still alive,” Beth breathed, changing the topic to something safer because she honestly wasn’t sure how much heaviness she could take. “She has to be like what? Fifteen?”
“Almost sixteen we think,” Killian responded, leaning back slightly against one of the masts. “My old lady is a tough one. She’s got a bum limb now, just like me, but she’s making the most of it. Stubborn old thing, much like your mother.”
“I don’t think Black nor Mom would appreciate being called old.”
“I suppose not, but I guess that can be our little secret.”
Another bout of silence fell between them, heavy and uncomfortable. Both of them didn’t quite know what to say to the other. The conversation so far had been like a tight rope walk, teetering and just a toe away from falling into dangerous territory. It was very clear they were both afraid to say something to set off the other. Killian studied his daughter intently, the frown lines around his mouth deepening. Beth, meanwhile, ignored his staring and moved her hand away from Black’s ear to scratch just under the collar. The old lab’s tongue rolled lazily out of her mouth as she leaned back into her touch, unaware of the tension around her.
“I’m assuming since you’re here that you managed to get your revenge,” Killian said softly.
“You assume correctly,” Beth said looking up. “Ding dong, Circe’s dead.”
He didn’t react right away. It was as if he was frozen in place. In the back of her mind, Beth wondered briefly if she should get up and make sure he was still breathing. A few seconds passed before the line of his shoulders shifted and he gave her a curt nod. Beth waited for him to speak again but he didn’t. The silence was stifling.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she asked, voice cracking.
“What is there to say? You accomplished what you set out to do.”
“That’s it? That’s all I get? No anger? No disappointment? No scorn? No judgment? Elation? Or congratulations? You have no reaction whatsoever?” she asked in disbelief, straightening up and looking at him with an apprehensive look.
“What would you like me to say, Elizabeth?” he asked, bringing his hand up and worrying the skin under his right eye. He looked tired and exasperated.
“Something! Anything! Yell! Shout! Laugh! Do something!”
He gave her a smile that was almost pitying. “My reaction, whether it be my anger or elation, won’t change anything, love. What is done is done. As you were so adept to point out to me the last time we spoke, you are an adult. There is very little I can do in regard to your life as you’ve very clearly shown over the past three years.”
She flinched at his words, averting her gaze. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sure you are,” he responded. She could feel the intensity of his stare. “And if it makes you feel better, I’m done being angry at you. And believe me, I was furious with you for a long time before I realized that the one person I should really be angry with wasn’t you, but rather the man looking back at me in the mirror.”
Beth’s eyes widened at his words. She whipped her head back in his direction, staring at him in shock. He was no longer looking at her but rather down at the wooden rail underneath his hand.
“What?”
“I was not a good father to you, Elizabeth.”
“What are you talking about? I loved you. You were the best father ever.”
“You see, that’s it right there. I was more concerned with the thought of you loving me than I was about teaching you to learn from my failures. I let you idolize me, idolize Captain Hook. I filled your pretty head with ideas that I was heroic…that I was a good man.” It was at this moment, he looked up and back at her. “And I am not a good man, love.”
“Dad, I know, I”— “No,” he cut her off. “You don’t know. For centuries, I committed nearly every crime imaginable and more depraved acts that you could dream of. I kept that from you because I was more concerned with you viewing me as a hero. I let my pride and greed get in the way of teaching you valuable lessons. I let you think my pursuit for revenge was noble when all it did was blacken my soul.”
“No, my sins are my sins. My bad decisions, not yours,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Besides, you don’t need to tell me you were an asshole. I kinda figured that out on my own. Turns out you and Mom aren’t the only Marty McFly’s in the family.”
“What?” It was his turn to stare at her in surprise.
“Yeah,” she laughed awkwardly. “Remember good ole Elizabeth Swann? That was me.”
She raised her hand and gave him a stiff little wave. His eyes went even wider, to the point that she thought they were going to pop out of his skull.
“That was you? I nearly killed you, Elizabeth!”
“Yeah, well, you were going to kill Mom, so I had to stop you.”
“I was never going to kill your mother. I was merely delaying until you actually came after me with lethal force! I would have killed you, if it weren’t for that navy boy of yours!”
“And yet, that was a lot less traumatizing than you hitting on me. It was really gross, Dad.”
“It’s not like I knew it was you. You weren’t born for another bloody seven years.”
“Still traumatizing.”
“Not as traumatizing as your only daughter going on a suicide mission without so much as a backwards glance.”
And just like that, all the humor and teasing she had been feeling left her like air escaping from a popped balloon. Her shoulders sagged.
“Yeah, I deserved that…”
His silence in response was deafening. An icy feeling grew in the pit of her belly and she felt it spreading, creeping slowly across her internal organs until it felt like she couldn’t breathe. Black whined, trying to get the attention back on her. When neither Killian or Beth gave her the attention she wanted, she trotted back up towards the quarterdeck; leaving father and daughter alone.
“Answer me this…” he said quietly. “Was killing her worth it all? Was it worth breaking our hearts? Stealing my ship? Committing the atrocities that you did? Darkening your heart? Was it worth it?”
“No.” The word was bitter on her tongue as tears stung at her eyes. “No, it wasn’t. I…I always thought it was going to feel good…I had been just angry and hollow for so long that…I thought when I cut her head off, it will make it go away… But when it happened… I… I felt nothing. Only tired. And even more empty. I…I haven’t been in a good place…”
“I can understand that.”
“You have no idea what I’ve done…”
“And nor do I care to,” he responded, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t need that heartbreak in my life. I’ve had enough of it. But I have a very good idea, as I’ve spent centuries in that state of mind and let me tell you something...and it's something your mother taught me and that's all sins can be forgiven...but that's on you to do to the work. It's not easy road to take, but if you're willing and you put in the effort...you can get there."
“How?”
“I can’t tell you that. You have your own road as I’ve had mine. It helps when you have someone who loves you…” He said gently. “And you have a wealth of people who love you, sweetheart...you have me…and your mother…and your brothers…and your grandparents…hell, you even have your navy boy.”
“My navy boy? What navy boy?”
“The bloody navy who was mooning over your every move back in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago. It was nauseating. It was obvious from the beginning how besotted he was for you.”
“Jim?” She hadn’t spoken his name in so long, more than two years now. It hurt more than she expected. “He’s not my navy. Never has been. Especially not now.”
“Bullshit, Elizabeth.”
“I’m serious. He doesn’t love me. That much I can tell you.”
“I know love when I see it.”
“He left me!” Even as she said the words, her heart quaked with pain in her chest. She absently brought her hand up to massage it.
Her father fixed her with an even look.
“And you left me,” he replied.
“That’s different.”
“How so? Did leaving us make you love us any less? Because I can tell you right now, I never stopped loving you, not even for a second and every one of those seconds without you, little love, was a knife to the heart…I didn’t know if you were alive…if you were okay…it’s a hell I don’t wish upon any parent, but there was never a minute were I stopped loving you. And I’m sure he feels the same.”
“I’m sorry,” she croaked, her heart heavy with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
“You’ve long been forgiven, my little minnow, but maybe you need to do some forgiving yourself.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
“Of course, you can, you love him. He wasn’t the only one mooning and even when you were with Will, like it or not, you always talked about him...You’ve loved him for a long time...And when you love someone…you love all of them…the good, the bad, the ugly…You’ve probably already forgiven him in your heart. The hesitation here isn’t a lack of forgiveness, it’s fear…You’re afraid that if you let him back in again, he’ll hurt you..”
“What do I do?”
“Well, you need to decide what you feel more – love or fear. As I’ve told you a hundred times before, a man who doesn’t fight for what he wants”— "Deserves what he gets,” she finished impatiently. “I know, I know.”
“That’s my girl,” he smiled. “You don’t need to decide any of this right away. You have time…For now…you can come home…”
“Home.” The word felt strange on her tongue, like the first time she tried pitaya fruit. “I’m allowed…?”
“You always were. You will always have a home here.”
“Mom is…Is Mom…?” She struggled to find words. “I’m scared.”
“I imagine your mother is still quite furious with you, you might be in for a slap, but she wants nothing more than to see your face again. I can’t promise things are going to be alright and that this is going to go smoothly, but we’ll be okay…eventually…someday…I promise…Just come home, love…we need you to come home.”
He stepped forward tentatively, holding out his hand. She bypassed it completely and hugged him. And though, not everything was fixed and not everything was perfect, for the first time in what felt like forever, Beth felt like everything was going to be okay. His arms went around her instantly, embracing her tightly as if he was afraid that she was going to vanish again.
“By the way, I’m taking my ship back,” he murmured into her hair.
“Your ship?” She repeated incredulously, her words muffled against his neck. “I think you mean, my ship. I stole her fair and square.”
“We’ll discuss the merits of that over dinner, but for now, welcome home.”
And for the first time since Will had died, a true and genuine smile crossed Beth’s lips, strange and foreign feeling but hopeful.
Because her father was right.
She was home.
#cs ff#captain swan ff#cs fic#cs fanfiction#cs au#little pirates#little pirates fic#my fic#my shit#a once and future thing#beth jones
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Thanks for reblogging my new Ask! 😊 2, 8, 14, 15, 25
noooo thank you so much for making them up!!
2. How did you come up with your MC and Jacob’s backstory (family, where they’re from, their relationship with each other, etc.)?
Mostly when I realised that the borders are fake and nothing is real anymore since JKR has a twitter account. I was like BAM! their father could pass as a character on Mad Men, maybe has gang ties who knows we don’t talk about him much he’s just doing very well in America as a perfectly legal businessman. BAM! Jacob was born before the statute technically got overturned and his mother very nearly got into a lot of political drama because of it. BAM! Look at that, one conveniently burned off family tree member who now stole from his family and sunk the fortune into a grand amount of land. BAM! Second sight? Legilimency (which came later admittedly)?? We’re gonna connect some witches and wizards to each other to like nudge it in the direction.
Literally just as HPHM started opening up more and more avenues, I took some artistic liberty with stuff and hunted through the wiki/pottermore for just. Stuff. I think it also helps that I don’t feel like I have to justify having some “OP” character/Mary Sue anymore because like??? So???? I don’t have anything to prove with Natasha. Bless her dumb ass. But the one thing I really relied on heavily as far as Natasha and Jacob goes is the age difference. For my Jacob, he’s born 1963, and Natasha isn’t born until 1972. So like they have the different wave interests, and like a lot of their relationship is kind of what they barely remember of each other. Natasha doesn’t know if she’s confusing the good and bad times with wishful thinking half the time, and Jacob (later) struggles to distinguish between the baby sister he left behind and the sure and confident girl he meets again.
I just dug my fingers into whatever I could find, said seeya later to anxiety over what I’ve created, and honestly enjoyed it far more than I potentially might’ve.
8. Does your MC have any sentimental items?
Natasha is a very sentimental person, at the end of the day. Doesn’t like to admit it, but her room at the family manor in Scotland is chock full of random and mostly useless items that serve no purpose other than making the heart a little fonder.
Highlights of the collection include a snitch that was given to Jacob by a fellow student after Slytherin’s biggest Cup win, one singular earring that was gifted by her uncle, Aquila, in the shape of a little star (she lost the other one; it caused much distress), and a very old and well loved record player that was given to Jacob by their father, that doesn’t work properly because of all the magic of course, but Natasha hauled it back over from America once they moved out to the manor full time.
14. What is your MC’s fashion style?
Think Sharon Tate. Literally, Natasha’s honest style icon and pretty much the sole person I refer to most times. The open shirts and cut pants and plaid and silk and thin jewellery? Perfection. Literally I can’t even describe it just google her.
15. What is your Jacob’s fashion style?
Look, men’s fashion is fantastic for the 70s and 80s in a sense it was great for that time but you look back and you’re like. Man. What the hell was going on? So whilst I do believe Jacob had some kind of passing phase of neon and tennis shoes, he probably ending up emulating his father a lot in terms of the neat suits and pull overs and cardigans and ties. Permanent business casual. Jacob is very prim and proper about his appearance and would like to forget just what he was wearing as a young teen, unaware of the ways of the world.
25. A song for your MC and Jacob?
Jacob grew up in America with the 70s as the song of his life. We’ve got him dancing with a tiny Natasha to Dancing Queen, belting out Grease in the middle of the hallway, a very dramatic rendition of Jolene to boot… Queen probably resonates very well with that era. Something like Somebody to Love or I Want To Break Free or even lmfao Bohemian Rhapsody just to really like encompass that late 70s kind of vibe yknow? Jacob’s Hogwarts run is from like 74-81. Track music from that timeline and it’ll probably be a gradual explanation of him.
Early 80s kind of vibe for when their relationship really just. Disappears in a way? Jacob goes missing, Natasha gets all his vinyls. They don’t know how to explain it to their muggle/no-maj family. A bit of Tiny Dancer, a bit of London Calling. Blondie really probably resonated (especially Call Me), maybe some Joan Jett lmfao. Whilst Natasha didn’t spend her teens in Manhattan, London was her best friend.
And I have to give an absolute mention to Don’t You (Forget About Me) because what is childhood/teenage life without the crippling fear of being forgotten and left behind, set to a catchy track that featured in just about everything during that pinpoint of your life.
Honestly Spotify playlists like all out 70′s/80′s are the discography to both Jacob and Natasha’s own lives just about lmfao I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried I just kept clicking through like wow! WOW!
#hphm#batgirl-87#hogwarts mystery#jacob's sibling#*ask meme#*natasha#THE SONG ONE GOT ME BELTING OUT TO LIKE#QUEEN#ABBA#FUCK IT WAS GOOD#OOOOOH I WANNA DANCE WITH SOMEBODY!!! I WANNA FEEL THE BEAT WITH SOMEBODYYYYY!!!!#jacob received the snitch from the slytherin seeker at the time and it honestly could be considered a proposal uwu
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About A Girl | | ANDERHAYMEL
WHO: Blaine Anderson ( @northsideblaine ) and Aaron Hummel (with Ryan Hayes ( @firefightingryan ) at the end)
WHEN: Thursday June 13th, 2019
WHERE: Aaron Hummel’s apartment
TRIGGERS: Stabbing, blood loss, Blaine betrayal
WORD COUNT: 6324
NOTES: Normal - Blaine/Ryan, Bold - Aaron
It had been almost three weeks since Marley had brought Aaron to meet Frank and tour The Farm. What should have been a happy day for all involved, especially Marley and Blaine ended in a tragedy worthy of any Shakespearean play. Of course, Blaine hadn’t known about any of it until his best friend filled in the details a day or two after, which had prompted him to visit Frank. He needed more answers because the Aaron he knew was capable of violence but wasn’t like Dare -- he wasn’t rash or particularly a hot head. So, the sudden punching of his pseudo-girlfriend’s dad didn’t feel right.
But maybe that was Blaine’s lingering attachments just talking.
Either way, he needed more answers from the man he trusted more than anything in this world. It was clear that Frank had taken special interested in the young man who was best friends since childhood with his daughter. He had gone so far as to take Blaine under his wing and treat him like a son -- it had been easy to manipulate him once he had seen how starved for approval and parental affection Blaine Anderson was.
And though, Frank almost had hoped that using the subtle approach of slipping Blaine casually into Marley’s life, allowing her to naturally find her way to The Farm life all in due time -- Aaron Hummel was a hiccup he hadn’t accounted for, so it was time to devise a new plan. It was time to be more aggressive in his tactics and do what he could to get rid of the lowlife Ghoulie standing in the way between him and one of his little girls. If it was successful, maybe he could then focus on the dirtbag Serpents that held his precious Charlotte in their squeeze.
Their visits mandatorily became daily, if not multiple times a day, much to the jealousy of other Farmies because Blaine needed special attention as the leader told the young man. There was still so much emotional and crippling pain in him, so much darkness and much poison keeping Blaine from healing properly.
Every day was the same. Every day, Blaine would enter Frank’s office and sit in the oversized and comfortable chair, a cup of tea in hand and a muffin each made especially on the Farm with Frank’s very own recipe. The euphoria would spread quickly through his body, Blaine’s head lulling back and forth to the sound of the metronome ticking along with the soothing voice of Frank filling the crowded spaces in Blaine’s head, helping to clear them out piece by piece -- secret by secret -- and replacing them with ideas of his own making.
At first, the darker manifestations took the shape of Bruce but slowly the morphed into the form of himself with flashes of Dare in support; telling him every ugly truth Blaine had ever been afraid to face, that out of the two of them -- he was the real monster. He caused the pain that had plagued their family and he toyed with people for fun, always under the guise of his good guy façade.
That was why he had kissed Sebastian, Aaron, and Marley all within the span of a couple of days. It was what had driven him to lead his twin brother on, keeping him dangling on strings refusing to ever let him go. Even being behind his own father’s actions when it came to Sebrina Smythe. If Blaine had just accepted who he really was, Bruce and Darius would have never done the things they did or almost died as much as they did -- all for his sake.
And it was time for Blaine to accept his true nature. He was someone made to hurt people.
He already knew how to manipulate everyone, making them believe he was harmless and weak when in reality he was capable of the most atrocious sins. Which is what Frank needed him to be. Every day he implanted more of that desire to embrace the need to hurt and cause suffering because some people didn’t deserve to ever feel happiness. Especially when it came to someone who would ultimately hurt Marley. Someone who was unstable, untrustworthy and someone who stood in the way of their fairytale ending.
As each day passed, Blaine didn’t know why but suddenly he couldn’t stomach the thought of Aaron near the person he loved most -- the woman he was in love with. The very idea that his hands were on her, his lips touching hers made his blood boil. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve to even breathe the same air as her. And by week’s end, he couldn’t take it anymore.
So, here found himself once more at the doorstep of the Ghoulie’s shoddy apartment, his nose up turning in disgust at knowing what was on the other side. It was time to finally end this and get him out her life for good. Though, he knew that he couldn’t just go in swinging, as that was Dare’s style, all brawn and no brain. Instead, he replaced the grimace on his face with the typical Blaine Anderson bright and alluring smile before raising his hand to knock a couple of times, as though he were a friend just coming to visit another friend.
Aaron had been having a rough week ever since the incident at the Farm. He had gone eight days without really talking to Marley and it felt awful, even if he knew he would probably punch Frank again if he had the chance. At least, if Frank told him to "save her from the inevitable heartbreak" again he would. But Marley and him were talking again, so he felt a lot better. And that was part of why he was trying to finally buckle down and snap himself out of whatever scared bullshit he's been feeling that's stopped him from telling Marley how he feels for weeks now. So right now, he was trying to learn how to play that song from Tangled that she liked.
But a knock at the door drew him out of those thoughts and he set his guitar on its stand, heading to open it and smiling when he saw it was Blaine. His feelings towards the older man was still as confusing as ever, always switching between jealousy about him and Marley and genuine happiness because they're friends. Even though last time he was here for a surprise visit, they kissed and confused him even more, he's mostly tried to put that out of his mind.
"Hey, Blaine." His head tilted a little, "To what do I owe the pleasure? Got anymore of those treats from the Farm for me?" He asked, leaning against the doorway for with that almost signature grin on his face. The food was the only part he really liked about the Farm, it was good, and it made him feel good for a bit. Though it only took a quick glance at his friend to know that there weren't any baked goods for him this time.
There had been a time that the sight of Aaron’s handsome face opening a door would have made Blaine smile for real. How foolish he had been to be so happy to see this… insignificant piece of garbage, turning their lives into landfills. How many times had those filthy hands been on Marley or how many times had he kisse-- oh God, how could he naively soil his own lips by touching the Ghoulies? In that instant, Blaine almost turned to bolt away to scrub his lips until they peeled and bleed to get rid of all the taint of someone so… unworthy. But the soothing voice of himself, echoed by Frank’s distorted whispers encouraged him to continue the act. He stood planted, a smile pasted on like a mask, hiding every ill intention. “Hey! I was in the neighborhood and I really could use a familiar face. Plus… I sort of wanted to check on you…” Yes, that was a very him thing to want to do. Especially after more dirty deeds of Sheriff coming to light.
It was torture standing there, pretending like they were equals and like Aaron wasn’t a rabid dog that needed to be put out of its misery before he hurt someone but Blaine had to reign in the dark thoughts swirling around. “Sadly, I didn’t have a chance to stop by the kitchens when I left the Farm today.” How typical of a greedy parasite expecting something just because Blaine was kind enough to share bliss with him just once. No wonder why Aaron was an addict and alcoholic. He was so weak and pathetic, it almost made Blaine feel bad for him… Almost “But um… if you have anything on hand, I’ll gladly made you something to eat. I always love cooking for people I…” He paused, having to swallow the urge to vomit. “...care about…”
Of course Blaine wanted to check on him. That was also why he visited last time, but this time there really was nothing wrong. Especially since he didn't actually fully believe that Burt killed Liora. "A nice habit of yours, huh?" Aaron was glad that nothing seemed that different after the kiss, it happened and nothing's weird between them. He's kissed his other friends before, no big deal. Even if they both have feelings for Marley, no big deal at all. Blaine was just here to check on him because they were still friends -- best friends, as he was told. Which was still nice to know even after all of the conflicting feelings.
At the explanation of why there weren't any muffins or other baked goods like last time, he nodded, "No worries. Even without bringing food, you're always going to be welcome here." With the offer to cook though, Aaron shook his head, "An amazing offer, B, but you don't need to. I was just going to have some of my leftover lasagna." Feeling the slight breeze pass by, he stopped leaning on the doorway and moved so Blaine could come in, "Come on in, take a seat, whatever. My house is your house." Once the shorter man was in, he shut the door behind him.
The longer he lingered in the threshold, staring at Aaron’s face, the more Blaine started to wonder what he ever saw in Aaron in the first place. Long before Marley had gotten involved with the Ghoulie, Blaine could admit he caught his eye. Was his taste so bad that he would have stooped so low--- ’No! Stop! This is Aaron! He is kind and protective. He’s talented and caring. He stayed with you all night through nightmares. He got you coffee and watched Frozen with you. He got you Anna for your birthday. He lov--’ the last word was squashed like an annoying pest under a combat boot before Blaine’s weak voice could finish the thought. The stronger suggestion, pushing him into the apartment, lingering near the door once it was closed. Of course, it was easy for him to get Aaron to let his guard down to let him in.
“I can’t help but worry about you… You carry so much and I know you probably spent all day probably taking care of the others but forgot about yourself.” Ignoring the offer to take a seat, he still lingered by the door. “Leftover lasagna sounds delicious. Did you make it or?” God, he didn’t even want to ask if Marley had made it because that probably would have been a breaking point for Blaine. However, sucked it up and finished his sentence. “Marley make it?” Blaine could hear the voice in his head telling him he was hesitating or taking too long. The longer he hid behind the mask and kept Aaron’s sole attention on him, the higher the risk it was that the younger man would realize what was happening. “Do you think I can have some of that?”
Blaine wasn't entirely wrong about that, since he made himself extra busy with the Ghoulies. "Honestly, I don't know if I believe Burt did kill her. So really, I'm fine tonight." Aaron noticed he didn't move to take a seat, but he didn't comment on it while leaning against the couch and decided to answer his questions instead. "I made it, yeah. Usually when Marley makes food for me it's of the baked goods variety." He nodded at the second one, always happy for someone to try his lasagna. "Of course you can. It's my specialty so I'm sure you'll like it." Aaron told him.
Blaine’s head cocked to the side for a moment in curiosity. He couldn’t tell if Aaron was really that stupid or not. Of course, Burt Hummel hadn’t been responsible. Burt was a doughy man who rode the desk most of his career, how could anyone really believe that he’d be capable of chasing down dozens of people. However, the shorter man couldn’t allow himself to get too sidetracked. As much as he wanted to lock the door, trapping them both inside, the brown-eyed gaze on him left no room for stealth. Instead, he headed to the kitchen, pretending to rummage through the drawers, trying to find a knife. “Uh.. Aaron, care to give me a little help here? Your system is… unique…” Waiting for the taller one to join him in the kitchen, handing him a weapon in the form of a knife, Blaine placed it on the counter for a moment, just within reach. They had been shuffling between each other, barely brushing one another while Blaine held back his disdain and the sensation of feeling his skin crawl, he gently took hold of Aaron’s wrist, to keep him from leaving and all but trapping Aaron against the counter.
“Hold on a second...“ He said almost quietly, tilting his head with large hazel eyes up at the Ghoulie. “I think we should…” Blaine bit down on his lower lip as though he were that same bashful man from a few months ago, who would never dream of being this close to him. “...talk…” It felt wrong cornering someone who was supposed to be one of his best friends like this. An alarm in the back of his mind was screaming to stop and for Blaine to leave -- that Aaron didn’t deserve… “We never got a chance to clear the air about the kiss… but… Um… first… I need to know… something...” God, it was so disgusting to feign being someone so pathetic that he couldn’t get a sentence out that didn’t sound like he was flustered. Thankfully sessions with Frank had helped.
One of Blaine’s hands had found it’s way to the back of Aaron’s neck, fingers gently tangling in the long strands there, while he was pressing up on to his tiptoes, much like he had done when they kissed the first time, trying to close the distance between them. “Can I…” His free hand seemed like it was moving to wrap around Aaron, but really it was coming to rest on the knife that was just behind him on the counter. “....kiss you again…?”
After helping Blaine find a knife, knowing unique was his own nice way of saying "disorganized and messy" he was moving past him until Blaine grabbed his wrist, immediately taking up his attention. Aaron listened to his voice, being worried about what they were supposed to talk about until he brought up the kiss. Though he was more than okay with just letting it go and agreeing it was just a friends, one-time-only thing. And he was about to tell him so but feeling the gentle touch of his fingers in his hair and feeling the distance between them get smaller and smaller.
He was asking to kiss him again. Why? Aaron knew he's only told a few people about him liking Marley, and that Blaine wasn't one of them for obvious reasons, but everyone knew that Blaine liked her. So why in the world did he want to kiss him again? The logical part of Aaron told him no, that he should get back to the leftover lasagna and focus on his plan to tell Marley the truth, but his head was feeling foggy from the closeness and looking into those beautiful and almost mesmerizing hazel eyes made him nod a little. "Yeah...yeah you can."
Upset and disgust coiled in the pit of Blaine’s stomach -- or was that excitement? It was hard to tell anymore because there was a time that standing this close to Aaron would have gotten his blood pumping and a desire for more than friendship.
Friendship…
Wow, they were friends once, weren’t they? Aaron had been there through the nightmares of horror movies with coffee and cuddling. He was the only Ghoulie Blaine could trust after the kidnapping. Birthday gifts with treasured memories of a childish sing along song. Maybe even some flirting. Such a long history there, mostly good, between them and it would be easy to say that if Aaron had just chosen someone else as his love interest, their friendship could have continued.
But, as they stood there, almost nose to nose, Blaine staring into those chocolate colored eyes, the promises of a kiss lingering in the air -- there was a moment of hesitation. His brows formed a frown and suddenly his expression distorted into one of genuine pain. A small moment where he could feel the handle of the knife, warm and firm against his fingertips but he couldn’t bring himself to grasp it. He couldn’t hurt Aaron… Not someone who had always treated him so kindly and with such care. It didn’t matter that every fiber of his mind was screaming that this was the only chance he would ever get to eliminate the threat -- he just couldn’t…
That was before he heard Aaron’s answer, the dizzy expression on his face and how quickly he was to simply just agree. It reminded him so quickly of what garbage this man was. This man who flirted needlessly with people who were not Marley. How he spread around his affections to lowlife junkies and the former Ghoulie King, and God knows who else. How easily swayed Aaron was by anyone and anything. If it wasn’t flesh, it was drink and all matter of other ugly things.
Sure, Blaine had been weak himself, once or twice, finding comfort in people like Sebastian but it was nothing in comparison to… this thing. And that very idea that Aaron had the power to hurt someone he loved more than life itself and he simply chose to throw away that trust, was enough to help fuel the shoving of Frank’s words in his head and push them into action. Leaning in Blaine wrapped his arm around Aaron as though to embrace him in a hug, bringing him that much closer.
A tiny smile pulled at the corner of Blaine’s lips, replacing the previous conflicted look from before. “For someone who’s supposed to be a King, you really aren’t all that bright. There are hundreds of people in this town and you really shouldn’t have gone after the one that was mine.” he said, words dripping with malice before his hand was wrapped around the handle of the knife. And in one quick motion, so quick in fact that Blaine didn’t even have a chance to gauge the full weight of the weapon in his hand, he stuck. The knife plugging in as he forced it into Aaron’s body. The blade cut through clothes better than he expected, slicing through the fabric and caramel flesh hidden underneath from Aaron’s back to the abdomen, deep enough to saw through the muscles and fatty tissue just above his hip, the warmth of blood almost instantly gushing out.
Aaron was confused by the pained expression on his face, and glanced down for a moment to make sure he wasn’t accidentally stepping on his feet or anything. Seeing that he wasn't, his eyes moved back to his face. Then, Blaine leaned in for a hug, which wasn’t unusual for him, so he pushed the confusion out of his mind until he heard him speak, his words bringing the confusion right back. He’s never heard him sound so...awful before, and he was about to take a step back while asking “Blaine? What are yo-“ though his words were cut off. For a few moments, it felt like he was moving in slow motion, unable to make any sound as his hand moved down to see if what felt like had happened, really happened or not.
Once his hand was back within his eyesight, which was admittedly getting blurrier by the second, and he saw the blood, he finally managed to make a sound. And that sound was a scream from pain. Aaron’s eyes shot to Blaine, suddenly confused and scared about what was happening and trying to go over his words in his head. This was about Marley?, his supposed best friend stabbed him because they both like Marley? “You fucking stabbed me!” That was obvious, but he was still so surprised by it that it was the first words out of his mouth. “We’re friends and you fucking stabbed me! What the hell is wrong with you?!” He tried to move away from the shorter man, looking for his phone to call 911 or something or looking for a way to stop the bleeding besides holding his hand there and feeling the warm and dark red blood gushing out of him.
The cry and scream of pain should have sent a chill through his bones, and the part of Blaine that felt guilty even stepping on a spider, normally would be in a panic right now. But... all he felt was... What was this feeling? It was... intoxicating... A feeling like he had never experienced before and to be honest he wanted more, to see how high it could go. That voice that told him that this was a friend and someone he should never hurt was silenced, as Blaine yanked the blade free roughly to admired the way the crimson liquid had stained the stainless steel.
It was beautiful. A work of art. Transcendent in a way all its own. Maybe this is why there was so much pain and violence in Riverdale. It felt good. It felt powerful and Blaine wanted to focus more on that feeling but the screaming at him was making it hard to focus. "Oh shut the fuck up, I barely even cut you," he barked back with a disgusted look on his face. "A supposed Ghoulie King, hardcore gang member and you can hardly handle a paper cut without pissing yourself. How pathetic..."
Watching Aaron scramble and look around for an escape, Blaine sighed because he knew now this was going to be the hardest part. The Ghoulie was in defensive mode, a fight or flight mentality and none of it would do. He wouldn't give him the chance to get away or worse, alert the neighbors. The shorter man reached up grabbing a fist full of long dark brown hair, yanking it one way at the same time that his knee came up to knock against Aaron's longer legs without enough force that it should knock him down. It had worked plenty of times in self defense classes, so it was about time it was being put to us.
As soon as he has the lithe body of the other man knocked to the flood, he climbed on top of him, nose wrinkled at the mess he was making out of his neat clothes. These were his favorite pants too but now they were ruined. "Listen..." He sighed heavily at the boy who was still making noises of pain as the knife came up to press against his throat. "You are nothing more than a disgusting man whore... You sleep around with anything that will have you... Hell, you even kissed me and tried to kiss me again, all while pretending like you give a shit about Marley. And I'm not happy about it because she deserves better. She is everything that is good and special in this world and you... You are nothing..."
Blaine could feel himself getting angrier by the second at the very idea that his best friend could be confused about her feelings all because of this piece of garbage. "She is going to be my wife. We are going to have a very happy life together and it's going to be better and more fulfilling and better than that asshole Darius with his bastard child, even though he said he never wanted children in the first place and his dumb who--..." He was getting sidetracked. Bringing back focus, Blaine took the knife away from Aaron's throat and without warning drove it into the man's stomach just above his bellybutton.
There was so much blood now. It pooled and gushed like a scene from a horror movie, that you would laugh at for being fake. It briefly made him wonder, if he opened Aaron's sternum up, would it look like it did on Grey's Anatomy? And he did consider it but this wasn't the kind of place he would have that much time to do something so extensive. Which made him glare that much more down at the man under him. "This is almost too good for you, you know. Dying in the comfort of your own home when there are probably people out there who died in gutters choking on their own vomit, thanks to you. But, I guess since we used to be friends and all... I can be this nice."
Giving the knife one more twist before pulling it out, Blaine couldn't even bring himself to care anymore that he looked like Carrie at the Prom, because he had accomplished the greatest achievement of his life. He climbed back to his feet, giving the body a kick. "Sorry, friend. Maybe the next documentary that comes out will be about you and this moment." He grinned and turned to walk out the door. God this felt good and he knew exactly where he was going to go from here to keep cashing in on this euphoria.
Barely even cut him. Did Blaine really just say that he barely even cut him? Because all of this blood was proving otherwise. But Aaron didn't have time to think on it, think on those words or how disgusted Blaine looked, he needed to find a way out of this. Though he didn't get a chance to, because before he could even realize what was happening, his former friend yanked his hair and knocked him to the ground, a low groan turning into a louder one of pain once he climbed on top of him, which was definitely not helping the first stab wound at all.
The knife being pressed against his throat was probably as terrifying as it was having to look up at Blaine and be forced to listen to everything he was saying. The man who tried to help his own self esteem was now calling him a man whore, saying he's nothing. "You...you kissed me." It was pretty much the only words he could manage to get out without moving too much and accidentally cutting his throat himself with the knife. Though he agreed that Marley deserved better, that she was great and could do so much better than a drug dealer like him. He doesn't have a lot of standards when it comes to sleeping around. Everything Blaine was saying about him was right.
Even through his miniature rant about Dare and Charlie gave him a bit of a chance to attempt to collect his thoughts and find a way to get Blaine off of him, it wasn't long enough. The stab to his stomach made him scream more, it hurt so much, more than anything he's ever felt before. And he had the nerve to say this was being nice? Like he was generous for letting him bleed out all over his floor? And the twist made it so much worse, Aaron's other hand moved to try to stop it just like he did earlier but there was no chance of that happening.
Then Blaine kicked him, causing another groan. "Fu...fuck...you." The words were kind of hard to get out, not just because of all the pain he was feeling but because he never thought he'd have to say 'fuck you' to Blaine Anderson.
Aaron struggled to move, what was the point when he said a lot of true things? Marley deserved better. The Ghoulies deserved better, what kind of leader was he being right now? He was going to die and unless Marley stopped by for a surprise visit, it could be days until someone found him. He was going to die from blood loss because of his best friend stabbing him.
But...Marley loves him. She definitely deserves better, but could he really lay around in pain without even telling her that he likes her? Let her think he died just not being sure of how he felt? Wonder who could have killed him and then have to move on? Possibly move on with Blaine? And that thought was what made him keep trying to move even though it hurt insanely much, he couldn’t die here with Blaine’s betrayal being the last thing on his mind. He needed to call an ambulance and get at least some chance to stay alive, if he dies at the hospital then at least it won’t be alone in his messy apartment to be discovered in a few days.
He managed to get to his phone, knocking it off of the counter with various items he could reach from his spot on the floor, trying to go quickly, ignoring that he was getting blood all over his screen as he dialed 911 and with a large struggle, managed to say he was stabbed twice, bleeding a “shit ton”, give the address, and add a “hurry the fuck up” for good measure.
It had been a semi quiet night for Ryan so far, Aid Car was all or nothing usually. When the call came through to an apartment in the Southside he quickly got in the Aid Car with his partner for the night and they headed off, sirens blaring.
When they reached the apartment he banged on the door and heard the curing from inside, he thanked whatever God was out there that the door was unlocked. The apartment was a disaster, he had no idea what could have gone down in here. When he looked into the kitchen he saw the last person he expected to see, Aaron Hummel, bleeding out on the floor. He rushed over and immediatly put pressure on the wounds. "What the fuck happened to you, Aaron?" He asked with urgency as his partner started handing him supplies to attempt to pack the wounds.
Aaron had been cursing and groaning in pain ever since he made the 911 call, and he was glad when he finally heard the banging on the door. Though Ryan being the one to show up wasn't what he was expecting. But it was a very good option so he can distract himself from the blood gushing out of him. "Didn't want to...to uh, light my curtain on fire to get you here. Figured stabbing would do the trick." Jokes and flirting, that was how he was planning on getting through this. Even if for a moment he considered telling the truth, that his friend stabbed him because he likes Marley, he figured that wouldn't end well for him. Plus, who could possibly believe that Blaine Anderson would stab him? He wouldn't believe it if it didn't happen.
Ryan immediately let out an exasperated sigh. Of course he'd say some stupid shit like that but based on angle alone, he knew he hadn't done this to himself. "Aaron, shut the fuck up and tell me what happened," Ryan replied, cutting Aaron's shit away from the wounds to get a better view. There was so much blood, not that that phased Ryan too much, he was used to this sort of thing, but he could also feel the younger man shaking below him, obviously this was something new.
"Try to steady out your breathing, hyperventilating isn't going to help."
Those words were easier said then done, but he did try to steady his breathing. He hated this, he knew he'd end up in the hospital again and for a fleeting moment he was regretting that he called 911. Because now he'd have to deal with Blaine wanting him dead, instead of him just actually being dead. But Aaron knew he'd have to tell Ryan something, he just couldn't figure out what to tell him yet. "I was stabbed." Was the first response out of his mouth.
Ryan actually raised his brows for a moment. "Ya don't say," he replied. That was obvious and if Aaron thought he hadn't already known that, he was more of an idiot than he'd previously thought.
"Look, you were obviously stabbed. But what happened?" Ryan had no idea what they were dealing with here. Was this a gang thing? Were he and his partner in danger right now? He needed to get Aaron stable so they could move him.
Aaron decided to focus on the breathing thing and only partly so he can have an excuse to think about what his story was going to be. His main options seemed to be gang related, which would be shitty to do to Dare, maybe even just a maniac stabbing people. "Can you just stop the bleeding first? Thinking on anything but your hotness is difficult right now."
Ryan did exactly that, probably repacking the wound probably a little rougher than absolutely necessary, earning him a quizzical look from his partner when Aaron reacted.
"Working on it, Aaron," Ryan grunted, annoyed. "Whoever stabbed you did a decent job. It's amazing you're this coherent."
Aaron hissed a bit in pain when the...whatever the fuck Ryan was doing to him, hurt more than it did earlier, "Hot fire..people keep me like that." He said, honestly just trying to think about anything but the situation he was in right now. And he was glad when they finally got in the aid car and he could get closer to not dying, even if he'd have to deal with the possibility of Blaine coming back to really kill him since he failed this time.
Ryan's partner quickly got in the driver's seat and Ryan stayed in the back, tending to Aaron. "Hey, hey, hey, eyes on me, buddy," Ryan said, voice dropping into something much more tender. The kid was starting to go loopy and he needed that not to happen. "Who hurt you, Kid?" He asked, hoping the nickname might bring him back to reality at least a little.
Ryan's tone of voice was definitely new to him, but he kept his eyes on him and frowned when he was called kid again. "Not a kid. You can't be rude to me, I'm dying." Aaron said, still trying to avoid the question because it felt like his mind was too loud to think about a good excuse at the moment.
Ryan rolled his eyes. "No one dies on my watch," he replied easily. He decided to drop the whole conversation, at least for the time being. "We'll be at the hospital in no time and you'll be well taken care of. Hot doctors all around." He almost gagged at the idea that he was almost giving into the young man's flirting, but anything to keep him awake and talking.
"I never get the hot doctors, it's not fair." Aaron complained, though really he's only been at the hospital once so this might be different. "I clearly only get hot firefighting DILFs to take me to the not hot doctors. But I guess it's good enough." He was trying to focus on staying awake because he knew that taking a nap on the way to the hospital probably wouldn't go well. "Even if you're rude to me" He added.
"I'm saving your life, you're hardly in the position to call me rude," Ryan said lightly as the continued on their way to Riverdale General. "Plus, I have it on good authority that Alejandro Hart is working the ER tonight, so you'll probably see him." Ryan knew they were close enough to the hospital and anything to keep Aaron from sleeping was worth it.
"I'll call you rude if I want, I'm the one bleeding." Aaron said, nodding slightly at hearing that Alejandro is working tonight. "Yeah, he's hot. But I would probably still pick you. I mean, firefighter and complete DILF material, checks off all my boxes." He sighed, not looking forward to having people find out about being in the hospital again. Especially Marley.
Ryan let out a sigh, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt. Aaron really never stopped, though, part of him had to admire it. He’d been a bit of a mess when he’d been fighting for his own life all those years ago. As they pulled into the hospital he started grabbing everything they’d need to unload and when his partner opened the doors. “Just a few more seconds and you’re in much more capable hands, Buddy,” he assured. “But I told you, no one dies on my watch.”
The doctors came rushing out to meet them and Ryan briefed them on Aaron’s vitals and watched them take the boy into a trauma room and he hoped his words stayed true, he couldn’t die.
#para#para: about a girl#para: blaine anderson#para: ryan hayes#chara: blaine anderson#chara: ryan hayes#stabbing tw#blood loss tw
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Harry is Fine, And Nina is Fine Too: Part I
He’s been cut off, and Harry knows why.
Still, there are the daily moments of immobilising, dizzying ache for her, as though he’s been spinning in circles and suddenly come to a halt. Rooms sway and blur, and he finds himself staring at her contact in his phone at least once a week, usually with a drink in his hand.
But that’s what a breakup is, and Harry swears any day now he will accept it. Any day now he’ll start moving past it. He’s so close to being happy that some days he sort of is, and he’ll find himself feeling a version of normal.
Then, Harry thinks of the number six. The missing digit at the end of Nina’s contact in his phone. The one he deleted to stop himself calling her under any influence other than his own. If he wanted to call her, he’d have to be sober enough to add ‘6’ to the number before it worked. No messy finger work or stray thumb was going to fuck things up.
But sure, Harry is Fine.
Eight months have passed by so quickly. In eight months, Harry’s been to seventeen different countries performed the same twenty-one piece set each night and written nearly two hundred new songs along the way.
Four of them aren’t about Nina. But those won’t make the final list for the album.
He’s been cut off, but Harry refuses to believe there’s anything about her that he doesn’t know. How could there be? He can tell exactly what she’s feeling from just a three-second glance. Harry knows her soul, and eight months apart can’t take that away. He refuses to think about it being eight months of days he doesn’t know what she spent doing, or who she saw, or what she felt.
When Harry’s away, it’s easy to pretend he’s still going home to her, and the hurt is really just the missing her he’d grown used to feeling for nearly six years. More than half a decade. How do you lose that? Harry entered his thirties with the rest of his life sorted. By his thirty-second birthday, he was single and lost.
Harry’s heartbreak has made him selfish, and possessive of her, even though he hasn’t seen or heard from Nina since the beginning of December. She’s still his. Somewhere along the line, Harry has forgotten how to do life without her in his head. There’s nothing in him that desires to either.
++
Nina’s been in New York long enough that she sleeps through the endless sirens outside.
For the first few months if felt like she woke up for each one, and in the 2 am daze of having been unpleasantly woken up her leg would hunt the other side of the bed for him. Then would come the crushing realisation that Harry had never been in this bed with her before. He never would. He wasn’t part of her New York life. She would remember everything and lie crippled in disbelief.
Nina sent the email to her contact from the New York Symphony at the beginning of February not expecting anything to come from it. It was a whim. An attempt at soothing the voice telling her she needed to do more to heal, that it was sick she was still having coffee—and going out for dinner, and in group chats—with their friends. They were all his friends she had been adopted by over the years. That’s what London felt like, it felt like living in Harry’s bubble.
Within two weeks she had signed contracts, a lease on an apartment and booked a flight. In the end, moving her life to another country had been alarmingly simple. Everything aligned, and she left quietly. There was no going away party, no drawn-out farewell to the city where she felt she had bloomed. Rodger drove her to Heathrow and stood in the check-in line with her, both of them silent.
London wasn’t hers anymore. An opportunity was knocking in New York, and Nina needed to be somewhere her life wasn’t less than it had once been. In New York, Nina could pretend nothing was missing.
So she’s hiding in music, and the change of scenery distracts from the shattered heart in her chest. She yells Harry's name in her head continuously, hoping she’ll turn the street corner and he'll be coming in the other direction.
Nina prays for a moment of serendipity, and even though she removed herself from his world, she still believes it might happen.
It can’t. But maybe it will.
++
Harry knows she’ll be here and he feels like he’s been floating all week.
The last time this happened, he walked away that was The End. That’s not going to happen again.
‘Even if she’s seeing someone,’ He tells himself, ‘I’ll get her back.’
Harry doesn’t believe for a second that Nina will have found someone else, though. He would have felt a shift in the universe, or a sharp stabbing pain in his chest if that happened. And it hasn’t.
He got his hair cut the way Nina always said she loved it most. He’s wearing a navy suit because she thought black was too harsh on his complexion.
Harry is ready to see her.
He’s ready to see them all. He’s missed their friends and their city. London called to him wherever he was in the world because it had always been, and would always be home. He left too quickly after Christmas and now for the first time since he was 18 Harry Styles has absolutely nothing planned or booked. At all.
Nina had always wanted to see Sri Lanka. Maybe this year they would go. Together.
‘MR & MRS’ is pinned up over the doorway when he lets himself into the back room of one of their favourite bars in London. Rodger is the first person Harry sees, he’s got his arm around his soon-to-be bride, Adriana.
Nobody’s figured out quite how Rodger got her.
Harry doesn’t get to cross the room quickly, though. Someone gets him a drink and everyone wants to catch up with him. It feels good to be home and if Harry tries he can pretend this is like Any Other Time they were at something like this and Nina’s flitting around the room elsewhere waiting for him to catch up with her. He liked to chat to everyone and Nina preferred seeking out her people and staying put. Harry was used to looking for her in a crowded room.
In conversation, everyone teeters around Harry’s personal life. Things are casual and cordial, but nobody says anything or asks Harry about Nina which he’s pleased for. If they asked it would open the floodgates and Harry's scared he’d never stop talking about her, just like he never appreciated being able to when he could.
Eventually, Harry breaks away from a group and makes a beeline for the Bride and Groom to be.
“Congratulations, you two,” Harry beams at them both, kissing Adriana on the cheek and moving straight into a handshake with Rodger, “Are you both excited about this weekend?”
“Oh, super excited, right?” Adriana gushes, looking up at Rodger for confirmation. He nods. “Feels like it’s taken the longest time to get to this point. This time tomorrow we’ll be married!”
Rodger smiles at her and nods along, and Harry suppresses his rising jealousy.
Harry wonders how long is the appropriate amount of time to wait before asking if Nina has arrived yet. He looks down at his watch, and when he looks back up, Adriana catches his eye. She’s looking at him with a frown on her face.
He feels like he’s been caught out, “What?”
“Rodger said you were doing well.”
Harry hunts Adriana’s sentence for its meaning, he looks to Rodger who is also frowning at him.
“I am. I am?” Harry says, failing to see how checking the time made it seem otherwise.
“How’s your mum?” Rodger interjected, knowing Harry had just spent two weeks with her in Holmes Chapel.
A few other people had already asked Harry that question tonight, but he knows he can answer more genuinely with these two.
“She’s good, thanks,” Harry starts, “Worries a fair bit … But what mum doesn’t?”
Harry asks about their families too, which effortlessly ebbs into wedding talk; parents bickering and aunts wanting aisle seats reserved in the church. Rodger and Adriana both look so happy though, and there’s no bitterness behind the apparent stress planning a wedding is.
We’d have looked this happy too, he thinks, just as Rodger excuses himself and Harry from Adriana, throws an arm around Harry’s shoulder and draws him to an unoccupied corner.
“Mate, she’s not coming.”
It was darker where they were standing, but Harry could still make out all Rodger’s features. Harry knew who he was talking about immediately. Neither of them said anything. Harry was waiting for the ‘but’.
“She’s …” Rodger looked like he didn’t know how to word it, “Nina’s in New York.”
Harry couldn’t hide, couldn’t evade that he’d been thinking of her this whole time. Still, he didn't know what to say. He understands the words, but Harry can’t manage a reaction yet.
“She’s been there since the beginning of the year.”
Rodger didn’t offer up any more information. What he had said was so simple—Nina wasn’t coming, she was in New York—but Harry couldn’t process it. He couldn’t picture her in New York instead of being at Rodger’s wedding. He couldn’t picture her in New York at all. It made no sense.
How had nobody told him? How had the news never come back to him? He’d been distracting himself with work and extended touring, but surely he hadn’t disconnected himself so much that even a whisper of Nina moving overseas wouldn’t reach him.
Suddenly, the cocoon Harry had managed to weave around himself for the last eight months felt flimsy and penetrable. If Nina wasn’t in London and Harry hadn’t felt it—hadn’t ached in the absence of her—then maybe all his feelings and reassurances to himself were wrong.
“I was in New York in April …” Harry ran a hand down his face, gripping at his chin, “Did you … Did you have a falling out or—
Rodger smiled, and Harry saw the mix of emotions behind it, the acceptance blended with sorrow for a good friend not being there, “—No, Harry. Me and Nina are good. But she can’t make it over for the wedding. It’s okay.”
Harry wasn’t thinking of his selfish need for her anymore, only Rodger’s desire for her to be there, “Is it money because if—
“—Harry, if that had been it, she’d already be here, and you know it," Rodger said firmly. Harry knew Rodger would move hell and high water for Nina, it was pure selfishness that had Harry believing he was the only person capable of looking after her.
Harry’s question slipped out quietly before he could stop it, “Why is she there?”
Rodger moved away from him half a step and Harry crossed his arms across his chest, waiting for the answer. He was petrified of what it would be.
“She’s doing her doctorate. Adriana and I are dropping in on her on our way home after Barbados.”
“Wow,” Harry heard himself say dumbly.
He wasn’t surprised or sad or shocked, Harry suddenly felt lonely. He missed her so much more than he had when he first walked into the room. He missed her more than he had in weeks and weeks. Somehow her being so much further away than Harry had thought made it all worse. Talking about her, having her name ringing through his ears, hurt Harry deeply though more significant than the need for the pain to stop was the need to know more.
“Are you okay?” Rodger asked.
Harry felt inclined to lie to save face, but Rodger felt too familiar for that.
“I thought I’d see her today,” He started quietly, waiting to see if Rodger would jump in with something. Neither of them spoke though, Rodger only watched Harry silently. “I thought … God, I’m such an idiot.”
“She misses you, Harry,” Rodger provided carefully, “She puts on a brave face, and don’t tell Adriana that I told you so, but Nina misses you.”
“I miss her too.”
“That’s pretty obvious, mate,” Rodger said. “And I’m not saying that Nina’s walking around New York in a constant state of misery. She’s working hard, and I don’t know that any of us could have said we ever expected she’d up and move overseas on her own, in that sense I guess I at least underestimated how brave she was … But I think being in London without you was sort of torturing her. She told me a few months ago she didn’t feel like anything was missing in New York which I took to mean she’s doing well there.”
“I don’t know how to move past how wrong it feels," Harry spoke slowly, he hadn’t allowed himself to talk about the breakup much with Rodger, he didn’t want to make him feel caught in the middle. Harry knew that Nina cherished Rodger’s emotional support as a friend, “We cracked under pressure, and I should have been better at preventing it. Or I should have fucking reached out to her the day after, or a week later or …”
“Sometimes, people need a break, Harry. You guys weren’t happy, you can’t let your hindsight overrun your life with guilt and regret. It’s not fair to ask what it was all for now. Nina’s in New York learning and working with the best of the best, and if stepping out from under your shadow was the push that got her there then … ”
“I never wanted to hold her back,” Harry argued pathetically, crushed by the notion that Nina had made better for herself without him. “I never thought she was under my shadow.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to say,” Rodger argued back, “Mate, you guys were amazing together. But Nina’s gone and done something she might never have if you hadn’t broken up. I’m not saying it’s a good thing that it happened, or that she’s better off without you. I’m just saying she’s made something of it. And I’m proud of her for that.”
Harry knew that saying he was proud of her as well would never express adequately just how very deep and wide the breadth of just how proud of her Harry was. He said nothing, unsure what this conversation with Rodger had really achieved for him other than a great sense of doubt.
“The hard truth of it is …” Rodger paused, and Harry was sure he would think better of, “Nina’s insanely talented and incredibly driven, but she didn’t have a machine behind her like you did. You guys worked because she was always going to be able to be happy making her thing work wherever you were. She loved you endlessly Harry, and if the cost of getting life with you was staying and working the London scene, Nina was happy.”
“Is this what Nina’s told you?” Harry asked quietly, feeling his eyes grow hot and wet. “We used to fight about that. It was the one thing we fought about. I just wanted her to do whatever she wanted to.”
“Her ambition is different from yours, Harry," Rodger said. “Nina isn’t wired to want to be the most successful, or have everyone know how good she is. Nina's happy just doing it. It didn’t matter where she was playing music—an orchestra in London was the same as any anywhere else in the world. Nina just wants to keep being able to do it at all. For you, the high is different, and you could never understand that her goal in life is just to be happy.”
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I have a Question about Jon's resurrection. Someone in my personal Space, things that Jon will die after the War of the Dawn, he thinks he was brought back by the Lord of Light because he has a Role/a purpose to fulfill. After Beric's and Jon's dialog in Season 7 he is even more sure about that. He thinks Jon's only Purpose is to defeat the second long Night and the Nightsking. After he succeeded he will die. I think he has some good points, what do you guys think?
Hi there!
I can’t speak for everyone because we all have different opinions on a number of things, including this matter. Some may agree with your friend because that’s a pretty popular theory. Others may disagree on some technicalities but still agree that Jon will die because this is a story where “anyone can die” and having died once he’s living on borrowed time. Then there are those, who believe Jon will survive (albeit very damaged, probably uglier), not merely because they want him to but because he has a lot of post-war purpose and his resurrection may have a purpose different from being a prophecised hero. I’m the third kind of person.
My reasons for believing he will survive probably make more sense when thinking of GRRM’s writing style in the books and what he’s attempting to do with this story in terms of genre conventions, rulership and Jon as a character. Despite the show diverging from the books in ways they have to meet at some point, as GRRM has stated and it’s quite likely we might never get the last book. It’s not about what I want, but what the story needs.
@thewesterwoman has written on this matter by drawing comparisons with Aragorn from LOTR and the history of the War of Roses and Henry Tudor as hidden heirs. She and @kitten1618x have elaborated on the War of Roses connection here. A very crucial point Martin keeps bringing up in the series and in interviews is that ruling is hard and has very little to do with whether a person is good or not. He raises the question of “What was Aragorn’s tax policy?” as a way of conveying his series wants to explore that.
“As I’ve said before, my basic reading of Martin’s work is that ASOIAF is a deconstruction of fantasy tropes that will be ultimately followed by a reconstruction. Martin isn’t writing in order to utterly disprove the foundations of all fantasy stories - he’s a realist, not a nihilist. What he’s doing, instead, is showing his readers ‘how the sausage gets made.’ He has taken the most classic tropes of high fantasy and demonstrated how they would really play out in a world where logic and consequences apply.” - @thewesterwoman
While not obvious on the show recently, bookwise Jon is the best suited character for this beyond just his secret parentage. He gets training of how to deal with daily governance during his time at the Night’s Watch under Joer Mormont and Maester Aemon and Maester Luwin as his mentors, aside from observing Ned’s hearings before he joined the Watch. Jon learns to follow from more constructive people before he can lead. This is something that Dany doesn’t learn because the very mentors she had were pretty toxic.
People might say “Well, there’s Tyrion”, but bookwise, Tyrion is just too Tywin-like in being Lannister name oriented and being vengeful to an unfair scale. While Tyrion is misjudged for his appearance, it’s not to say he’s really a nice person. He has a singer killed and his tongue cut out and served in broth served in Flea Bottom for trying to use the fact that he is with Shae to take part in a singers’ completion. He is wrongfully accused of trying to attack Bran and humiliated in Lysa’s court, but he doesn’t just want revenge from her court, he wants to burn down the whole Vale. He gets especially dark in ADWD. Bookwise, Tywin’s legacy starts falling apart after he dies not because he was the cleverest of them all, but because he ruled through fear and corruption. Meanwhile Ned is dead but because of his legacy of ruling through love people are still willing to risk their lives for Ned’s children. Ruling through Tywin’s methods has short term gain, but Ned’s has longterm gain. Tyrion himself has a pretty bad reputation of being a kinslayer of both Joffrey and Tywin, which is amplified by the fact that he is a dwarf and the smallfolk have no love for him especially after he tried to burn their settlements at the shore to prepare for the Battle of Blackwater. A ruler who is hated will have a very disrupted rule. That’s not the note the story should end on.
Then others could suggest “Well, there’s Sansa and Arya” and yes, they do have something more positive to contribute to the reconstruction of Westeros. But again, they don’t have the training to answer “What was Aragorn’s tax policy?” Sansa has been observing and learning how to play the courtly game, especially under Littlefinger’s tutelage, and she knows how to handle a household now, but again she’s still very sheltered and kept away from truly learning local governance because Littlefinger wants it to be that way so she is dependent on him. The only way she will learn any of this is if/when she escapes and gets to Jon. The fact that Jon is a radical thinker matters too. He might need people to cover for him, try to talk him out of a moment of hotheadedness, and try to sell his ideas to lords who will not buy it easily but this is important. Sansa’s understanding of the conservative approach would be able to shield him, but she needs him just as much.
Arya does have a journey that broadly has similarities with Aegon V, who travelled around Westeros as Dunk’s squire under disguise and learns more about the smallfolk, she doesn’t get the training to rule or even how to deal with courtly politics, where it isn’t about taking people down but coexisting with them and trying to win them over. Aegon V had a lot of problems during his rule despite his exposure to smallfolk because he didn’t know how to convince the lords or reach a good compromise. I’m afraid Arya is in a similar position right now and the only person she can get this kind of training would be through Jon, who received it under the Watch. So while Arya is a radical thinker and someone who could potentially be a force for change, right now she doesn’t have the means and honestly, she isn’t even in the correct emotional state because of the PTSD of war, loss and living on the streets. She needs to recuperate.
So when you step back and think about it, Jon is needed for more than being some prophecised hero during the War for Dawn. Jon’s king foreshadowing in the books is undeniable and while some may think it’s too predictable, I think thinking about GRRM’s style here becomes more important. GRRM constantly nitpicks on the historical realism that fantasy brushes over. How a princess wouldn’t have run away with a stable boy in medieval times, even if she ran away with someone else. How class difference mattered and had a heavy hand on how people behaved and violating it had violent repercussions, whether someone was right or not. So in making Jon king and showing him to be effective ultimately despite his failures would be showing “how the sausage is made”. His secret parentage doesn’t make him worthy of being a king. It’s the training he’s got. It’s what Varys wishes f!Aegon could be like, but neither is he an independent thinker nor does he try to check his privilege like Jon learns soon enough in the Night’s Watch that he did have a privileged (if not perfect) life of a bastard. All the details that casual readers find extraneous and what the show brushes over are important to the author.
Now apart from that a phrase often repeated in the books by Mormont’s raven is “Corn King” and this has a lot of mythological allusions as well as a sign of how Jon is associated with providing food to his subjects in dire circumstances. The Corn King sacrifices himself during winter for a better harvest the next year, and incidentally Jon dies around the beginning of winter and will be resurrected soon. This has been discussed on westeros.org and other places. So in terms of mystical mythology there is that connection with seasons, just as Sansa has her subtle nods to Persephone in her arc.
Then, of course, one would wonder how his death cannot have consequences. I do believe they will, just not in the way people think. Perhaps the most fundamental theories for me is that Jon is not a prophecy child as @trinuviel has written a number of metas on how AA reborn could be a destroyer rather than a saviour, and how Dany still fits the criteria most (1, 2, 3). Tolkien also pulled this kind of prophecy twist in the Hobbit. Also the whole promised hero with a magical sword who is coming back to reclaim the kingdom is so Arthurian legend. I think Martin would think more than this mystical aura of some messiah, that ruler needs to know how to rule. Who would be the hero then? I don’t know Bran, the overlooked crippled boy who has magical powers from trees and the COTF. The Long Night was fought before without dragons or Targaryens and the same is possible again. Bran seems to have a lot in common with Bran the Builder, who built the wall with the COTF’s help and the Lost Hero, who went seeking out the COTF.
Aragorn did not have the most important role in the fantasy battle even with the secret parentage reveal. That was Frodo’s role. Even Simon Snowlock, the secret prince who doesn’t know his parentage, from Tad William’s Memory, Sorrow, Thorn that Martin was inspired by, didn’t write Simon having a large role in the fantasy battle compared to his parentage giving him legitimacy to become king. I don’t know why GRRM would suddenly decide Jon, who burnt his sword hand, which failed him from saving himself in ADWD will become this all powerful prophecy hero who will sacrifice himself and die.
Bookwise Beric died when he tried to resurrect Catelyn and she became Lady Stoneheart and when they do come back, they come back different, more damaged and the same would be for Jon, except he might not be a firewight because he warged into Ghost before dying. He will probably come back more wolfish, drained and probably it will mess with his memories a bit. shinynewrevulsions and lady-in-a-song have talked about how towards the end of the story Jon might lose an eye, which might be part of the cost of living among other things, like burning a portion of his face and his hair greying faster, like Jaime and Theon. I’ve discussed before how the show might’ve watered down what Martin wanted to explore with this resurrection, kind of like Buffy’s resurrection that left her apathetic, disconnected and resentful of her friends for bringing her back. The opposite of Gandalf coming back the same or having improved. The fact that GRRM takes issue with Gandalf coming back improved makes me more inclined to think bringing him back so he can be a prophecy hero kind of fits that. It’s trite.
Showwise, I think a key point is that Jon wants to and expects to die in this war. He doesn’t expect to come out of this alive and every choice he makes is factoring that in. So Jon’s expectations and the audience’s expectations aren’t different. It’s not shocking to expect him to die. Not that it would be shocking for him to live, but again, a lot of it comes down to thinking about if GRRM hated Gandalf and Wonderman’s resurrections so much, why did he do it? The point that everyone focuses on is GRRM saying “Gandalf should’ve stayed dead”, but not the other points.
And then in the next book, he shows up again, and it was six months between the American publications of those books, which seemed like a million years to me. So all that time I thought Gandalf was dead, and now he’s back and now he’s Gandalf the White. And, ehh, he’s more or less the same as always, except he’s more powerful. It always felt a little bit like a cheat to me. And as I got older and considered it more, it also seemed to me that death doesn’t make you more powerful. That’s, in some ways, me talking to Tolkien in the dialogue, saying, “Yeah, if someone comes back from being dead, especially if they suffer a violent, traumatic death, they’re not going to come back as nice as ever.” - GRRM
First of all, the way Gandalf came back, it was as a deus ex machina to make the heroes lives easier, and if Jon came back to be a prophecy hero to make the heroes lives easier he would be functioning as a deus ex machina so blatantly because he died and this is meant to be his sole purpose. His death is anti climactic for this very reason. This is exactly what people think Bran’s purpose is as well as the basis of the Jon/Dany/Tyrion “three dragon heads” sacrificing themselves to save the world theory, which again is overlooking how the author approaches genre conventions and converses with them. There’s not much “conflict in the human heart” here because everyone is just willing to die to fulfil some predestined purpose. If Jon hadn’t already died, this would feel much more poignant.
After the resurrection, show wise Jon keeps wondering why he was brought back? He wants an answer as to what the purpose was because he’d rather just be dead. Throughout the story Jon is ready to die since he joined the Watch; I’d rather try to see him trying to live, even when it’s too hard. Perhaps, this great predetermined purpose does not exist. If he ends up surviving the war, Jon would be lost as to what his purpose is meant to be. He’ll have to find one. It could be that his secret parentage reveal might just be about politics and trying to reconstruct the kingdom after it has fallen to war, famine and nuclear disaster.
Overall, Jon has far more purpose in the story than being an action hero with a sword. People think he’s doomed to die fulfilling this and thus will never become king, but his story just as far more meaning the other way around. His resurrection could serve as another red herring to confuse the audience about who AA is when they should be asking “what” AA reborn is.
But again, this is my take on things. Others have different takes.
~ Anya
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