#things definitely ended up overly complicated when it came to sorting the teams... too much bad blood for Nath's team to ever work with the | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

Hey! How about 113&90 or 133&68? Of course you can pick one or all or none, lol! I hope you're doing great!! 🤗🤗

Hiii!!! Thank you so much for sending these!! I've gone ahead with 113 ("I prefer blondes") & 90 ("Trust me") and I have zero idea where this idea came from, but some of it made me laugh, so I hope you enjoy my attempt at humor!! 🤣 I had to make a special moodboard for this one, too. I hope you're doing well!!! 💛

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It was an ordinary day at the shop. Another day of people reminding her that she was stupidly alone and would probably never be the customer coming in to choose a nice, sexy piece for her (non-existent) partner or the girlfriend on the receiving end.

At least she had her work friends to complain to, although half of them were off the market, too. Dany never could figure out what it was about her that seemed to deflect men rather than attract them to her. Doreah had promised that, objectively speaking, Dany didn’t suffer from resting bitch face. Missandei proclaimed that she was just so beautiful, it was intimidating. Val added onto that, saying that most probably assumed she was already spoken for.

She was in the back room double checking inventory when Doreah all but broke the swinging door down, hissing her name. “Dany! He’s back!”

“Who?” Frowning, it took Dany a second to understand who she meant. Then, she rolled her eyes. “Oh. It doesn’t matter, Doreah, he very clearly had a girlfriend the last couple of times he was in.”

The least she could do was not drool atop their merchandise over a man who was probably trying to help his girlfriend spice things up in the bedroom. While it was a little unusual that there had been so frequent of visits within a short span of time - four times in two weeks, not that she was paying that close attention - there was no point in making it extra awkward for everyone.

He was extremely pleasing to look at, and yes, behind the scenes she had suggested to the girls some explicit things she might like to do with him if ever she had the chance, but a fifth return said something was either working or very much...not. The last thing she wanted to do was verbalize one of those thoughts she may or may not had fantasized about once or twice or...more. She would fire herself on the spot.

“In the last three years in this hell, how many times have you seen the girlfriend hang around outside of the store while her boyfriend does all the perusing?”

Dany shrugged, checking off a few boxes on her clipboard while she hooked several pairs of silky lace panties through her arm to help her keep count. “I don’t know, maybe that’s their thing? Maybe he surprises her and they have perfect, steamy sex.”

The first time he came in, the brunette woman joined him. He looked completely lost and overwhelmed by it all, and on at least two occasions he had locked eyes with Dany when she was trying to discreetly check him out. Mortified at how red his face had turned, she had busied herself rearranging their fragrances that hadn’t needed arranging. There had been some giggling and the woman had squeezed his arm, and Dany tried to avoid having to help them as much as possible, and that included each subsequent appearance after that, even when the brunette kept to herself outside the store. To the point where Dany put Val on the floor so that she could sit back and just ogle him guiltlessly.

Dany saw the way his girlfriend peeked in, beaming at him, probably trying to get a feel for what he would bring home that evening.

“Right, well plot twist: he has asked for you,” Doreah jabbed her finger into Dany’s back.

Spinning around on her heel, her braid whipping around her shoulders, Dany fumbled over her words. “No-no he did not! He doesn’t even know my name.”

“Obviously not!” Doreah chortled, then took hold of Dany’s shoulder with a shake. “He asked for a blonde, and when I pointed to Val, he said - and I quote - ‘the one with the blue eyes’.”

Dany blinked, her inhale suddenly hostage in her chest, shaking her head vehemently. “No, he’s definitely confused - it can’t be the same guy-”

“Get your cute little arse out there and find out for yourself, then!”

Just as pugnacious as she was when she came in to deliver the news, Doreah spun Dany around and forced her back into the main floor. She yiped and instantly wished a sink hole would appear under her feet and take her under, what with the obnoxious entrance she’d just made, the door smacking against the wall and every set of eyes boring into her.

Including his.

Doreah would not live to see another day after today.

Quietly, she cleared her throat, while everyone else went back to their browsing, but for the man who was the subject of her favorite dreams as of late. He turned to face her fully, still at the other end of the store across from her, and he fit his hands into his overly-tight jean pockets. A smile spread across his face, and stupidly, she looked over her shoulder, just to confirm that Doreah hadn’t been behind her. And finally, the cherry on top of the cake was when his eyes then drifted down to her arm, where she still had a whole armful of panties still attached.

Bleeding hells!

Hastily she yanked the door open behind her, Doreah right there and proud of herself, Dany stuffed her clipboard and the pile of undergarments into the woman’s arms. “I hope you enjoy your last few hours alive!” Dany whispered harshly, but that only made her friend splutter with joy.

Going back out, she squared her shoulders and folded her hands in front of her before approaching the obscenely attractive man. She couldn’t help but quickly sweep the area with her eyes just to be sure he wasn’t in other company. There didn’t appear to be anyone outside the open doors, either.

She stopped in front of him, and was horrified to discover, at the most inconvenient moment, that she didn’t know what words were. Her private dreams and distant stalking did not do him justice.

“Hello,” he supplied first.

For a beat, her mouth hung open without a sound until she finally managed, “Hi.”

“So-”

“I heard-”

She grit her teeth together and her cheeks lit on fire, the pair of them laughing awkwardly and immediately averting their eyes to anything but each other.

At the very least, it broke some of the tension. Dany gestured with her hand at the wall behind him, where various colorful, matching sets of lingerie were displayed. “Did you need help finding something?”

“Ah,” he sucked in a breath, briefly following the motion to see what she was referring to, but quickly looked back at her, hand scratching his head, “well, yeah, sort of...I, uh,” he cleared his throat gently. She was glad to know she wasn’t the only one who was nervous, but it was making her anxious, so she took matters into her own hands.

“Might I suggest the purple?” She crossed the floor to one of their mannequins donning one of their more flimsy pieces, silky and shiny bra and the thong to match. With one hand palm up, she tried to gauge his reaction as she pointed it out to him. “It compliments brown hair and fair skin quite nicely.”

His dark brow wrinkled a little, but he followed her, stopping a few feet away and not paying the fiberglass model any mind. Maybe they were fighting...so she had a better idea.

She thrust her finger up in the air to stop him from needing to explain any further, beckoning for him to follow her. They stopped, now, at something a bit more complicated, a red number where the lace bra barely covered the breasts and had a strap that wound around the neck and connected to the middle between the breasts. The panties were attached to a garter and stockings.

This time around, he flushed adorably, and she stored that away in her mind for later. If there was to be any joy found in this encounter, it might be so that she could torture his bashfulness.

“Actually...I’m...not here to shop for anyone else,” he explained, and slowly, she understood, nodding slowly, her mouth forming an ‘o’. Their bed play included some form of role reversal. She wasn’t here to judge anyone’s kinks, or preferences, not especially working for a lingerie shop. And, if it turned out that she was wrong, and perhaps he wasn’t into the ladies at all, at least she knew she never had a chance to begin with.

“Ooh, I see. Well, unfortunately we don’t have anything marketed towards men’s fashions right at this time-” an idea she needed to propose to their marketing and product team, “-but I’m sure we could find something that fits your fancy?”

Dany freely let herself measure him by way of a quick observation - he wore a fitted black tee, so it wasn’t difficult to see that he kept in great shape. Broad, muscled shoulders, biceps fighting to stay within the confines of the short sleeves, lean compact perfection. His thighs? Thick. Great for getting ones’ head trapped between. Uncaring as to what was left of her professional decency, she grabbed his arm to keep him still and rounded him, almost forgetting herself too much and just barely biting her tongue to not whistle. His ass? Perseus could never.

Just as she was moving to guide him toward another area with slightly larger sizes that could accompany his physique, a hand gently caught her wrist, and it was gone in the next breath, but she stopped, facing him once more. He’d stepped in closer, almost invading her space. “No, it’s not any of that,” he chuckled lightly. Then he word vomited, and she didn’t think he could possibly get any more chart-breaking attractive, but she was certain her eyes had shaped themselves into hearts. “Ah, fuck. I’m just gonna say it. I saw you in here a few weeks ago when I was here - I never come to the mall by the way, just...anyway, no offense. I stopped and I was with my sister-in-law and she told me I should try to chat you up...but I thought, who in their right bloody mind casually drops into a sexy lingerie store to hit on someone?”

He huffed dubiously, but she was half in love with him already.

“So, I bowed out like a coward, but obviously I kept coming back, and Margaery - that’s my sister-in-law, the brunette - tagged along for moral support, while I was pretending to be interested in…,” he looked about them by way of explaining, “I mean, not that I’m not - in fact, I am-”

Her toothy grin was so large by now that it actually hurt. Charmingly he rumpled up his face and scratched the back of his neck, then brought both of his hands in front of him and accentuated the space there as he made a go of it again. “What I’m desperately trying to say, and failing at, is...would it be super weird to ask you out? It’s so shallow, I know, and completely not like me; you’re just so beautiful and I know nothing about you-”

Dany couldn’t take it anymore. She kissed him, and he gasped through his nose, frozen in place for a beat until he finally relaxed and put a careful hand on her hip, leaning closer to her. She broke away, the taste of cinnamon lingering on her tongue, either from a mint or gum he must have just had. Peering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, she just needed to be sure…

“You’re sure that wasn’t your girlfriend with you?”

His head nodded once to punctuate his reply. “Positive. She’s my brother’s wife. And...I much prefer blondes, anyway. Trust me.”

“Okay,” she muttered, putting a little space between them, and going warm all over when she remembered where they were, and how about the entire store was putting their heads together and giggling and staring. “I have…,” she glimpsed at her watch, her heart sinking, “...three hours left.”

“I can wait,” he said, and when she was beginning to think he meant he would have the audacity to wait in here and distract her, he clarified, “I mean, I have some errands I can run, and then…?”

“I don’t even know your name,” she blurted with realization.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, “it’s Jon.”

“Dany,” she returned, holding out her hand. He shook it with a gentle squeeze. After they took their hands back, she made sure nobody was within earshot when she closed in on him again. “Then it’s a date. Under one condition…”

His clear grey eyes narrowed down at her.

“Which one?” Her dark brows jumped and she clandestinely used her eyes to motion to the items on display.

“What? Wait…,” his voice lowered to a rumble, lips barely moving, “seriously?”

Gods, if he only knew the images that she had conjured up in her mind pre-meeting…

“Mhm,” she hummed.

“Uh…,” he was good, very good, as he pretended that he was carrying on a conversation with her while his hand scratched his bearded face, trying to make a hurried decision. She saw the glint in his eye when he had decided, never taking her attention off of him. His gaze dropped down to her lips before drifting back to her eyes. “Third rack by the front…,” she gave a secretive, sidelong look in that direction, “the fourth row down in the second column. Yellow.”

Her eyes widened a hair. “Oh,” she breathed, her chest going tight. It was one of those numbers that, when not on a hanger or mannequin, was difficult to figure out how to get on, but it was a good thing this was her expertise. She swallowed thickly. “May I ask...why yellow?”

Jon reddened exquisitely. “Well... the last time I was here, one of your colleagues was heavily suggesting the best colors that complimented blue eyes, so…,” to her surprise, he skimmed her thumb over the apple of her cheek, just under her blue eyes.

Doreah. That sneaky little shit. It was a script they sometimes followed when a guest first came in, a starting point to help guide them in the right direction and ease nerves, but this was deliberate.

Dany owed Doreah an extra life, now.

“Alright,” she conceded, beaming. “See you at five?”

Jon smirked. “See you at five.”

#jonerys #jonerys drabble #jon snow butt appreciation #just two dorks trying to interact

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gangrenados · 4 years

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May I pretty please with extra cherries on top ask for the full sfw alphabet with Dickiebird? 🥺🥺 But if not (and I totally understand) can I please have A, B and C? Thank you 🌻

So you got me with the cherries ngl. Hope you like it!! 💖

Warning: this is super long so sorry about that 😅

Activities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He isn't too picky so even a spend a noon with you without running for your life it's a good start.

Dick likes to take out to wander around to city and search for hidden gems, it could be looking out for new restaurants (nothing too fancy) or look out spots. Those dates are always fun.

Beauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admire how you can look at the bright side even when the situation is too gloomy. Your optimistic way of seeing life has stuck with him in one way or another, giving him hope that maybe nothing is entirely lost.

Comfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Dick wouldn't leave your side, too scared that might get worse. If you're sad he's going to let you cry or rant about what's bothering you if you feel like doing it, if not then he's going to hold you until you don't need him anymore.

But if you're having a panic attack Dick is going to do his best to help you calm down. He's gonna point at random things in the place you two are and ask you kindly to name them so you can on another thing, also he will help you to control your respiration.

Dreams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

Dick dosen't really like to think about the future, it scares him. However, he hopes that his future with you would be full of love and peace, just the two of you having a happy life together without fearing for someone coming up to tear apart that happiness.

He sometimes daydream about you and him living a happy life together, married and with a child, maybe two. Yeah, that's his happy little fantasy and he craves to have one day...

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Dick is a man that likes to have control over everything so he dosen't feel like his life is falling apart, he might end up emotionally blackmailing you without noticing which lead to him avoiding you until he finds a way to end with that behavior.

However, that dosen't mean that he will force you to follow his lead, he dosen't want to make you upset or uncomfortable in some way.

Fight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Fights are a thing Dick would like to avoid at all cost, so that's one of the reasons he locks up his emotions/ don't tell you when something is bothering him; in the long run all the hidden emotions will explode.

He's bitter and sometimes even cruel when you're in a big fight, his anger blinds him and make him say pretty nasty things that he will surely regret once he has cooled down.

It would take some time for him to collect himself and go to apologize, first he needs to take away his rage and re think everything before he goes to you and he he apologizes you can clearly see how the guilt, angst and sadness is eating him alive.

And I think he will forgive, but forget (in case you were the one wrong) would take a little bit of time...

Gratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He knows he can be a pain in the ass sometimes and his temperamental issues dosen't really help, but he's glad that you can put him in place and calm him down and he's definitely grateful for that.

Honesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

There's a few things that he doesn't want to tell you and will do his best to make sure you won't be able to find out the truth until it's too late. Dick truly believes that keeping you from knowing the truth will make your life easier, he's afraid that you'd get hurt somehow thanks to his erratic life, so this is way of keeping you safe.

It cost him a death near experience to confess you that he was Robin, yeah you're shocked and angry expression had stuck with him since.

Inspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Before you came in his life he was a man full of rage; he was angry at world and himself for not being able to define what he really wanted. You didn't changed him overnight and sometimes he's back at his old behaviours when he's too stressed, but you certainly change his way to see life in a way.

Jealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Dick dosen't like to call himself a jealous man because he doesn't get jealous over stupid things. Although it's easy to tell when he's jealous since he will keep you closer to him and his gaze will grow colder, ready to tell the other person to fuck off if they dosen't get the hint that you're with him.

Kiss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

My boy Dick is a good kisser, he knows how to make you forget about your surroundings with just kiss.

Your first kiss was unexpected and stolen by you during a playful fight, you wanted to distract him and take some advantage. It didn't worked out as you planned since your little kiss transformed into a make out session.

Love Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

He confessed his love for you by accident, both of you were drunk and having a good time so he just blurted it out with a big grin and kiss. Dick was kind of ashamed for his overly happy behavior, but he was glad that you felt the same way as him.

Marriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Dick wants to get married and all the sweet stuff that comes with it, he has dreamed to have a family of his own for so long and starting it with you would be amazing.

Propose: Dould take you to where your first date was and have a fantastic day together.

He would be nervous, but will try to hide it, remembering the words of encouragement his teammates and family gave him (all of the asked him to not screw it, Rachel made him promise it) so when you noticed his way behavior, Dick told you what was on his mind, how he felt about you and then he proposed to you.

I see him being the kind of husband who is supportive, the one who is always there to bring a hand when you have problems and also kiss you hello or goodbye. Dick would be a good husband, trying his best to have a good marriage and if you have kids, provides them love and healthy way of living.

Nicknames - What do they call their s/o?

Dick dosen't call you by a bunch of nicknames since he finds the majority of them too cheesy. Call him old fashioned, but his favorite ones are: baby, babe, darling when he's feeling cheesy, or even sunshine

On Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

Dick fall in love hard and he would rather pretend that's nothing is going on until the reality slaps him in the face. It dosen't matter how hard he tries to hide those feelings, the others will start to suspect quickly for his dismay.

Dick is gonna be more calm and even flirty around you, doing his best to not fuck up the moment, also his protectiveness over you will multiply.

PDA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

It's complicated, Dick dosen't like to be very affectionate with you in front of the team since he wants to keep the leader image, especially for the youngers. So he will settle for having an arm around you and just a simple peck from time to time.

Quirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Dick has many skills that have been quite helpful, such as his ability to help you keeping your life if a criminal wants to kill you, and even his detective skills have getting handy in more than once.

But you must say that his acrobatic skills surprisingly are helpful too, it always puts you in a good mode seeing him do flips around the place when he's bored, he even tried to bring the flexibility during sex but if you're not as trained as him then it surely ended up being a unique experience; you had a lot to laugh in the aftercare, that's for sure.

Romance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

He's a romantic guy in his own way and it sometimes fall in the cliche kind of romance.

If you two hadn't see each other for too long he's going to settle up a nice and intimate date that will involve wine, candles and takeout since he sucks at cooking. After that it would lead to some fun time if you know what I mean...

Support - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Dick may not see you as much as he would like, but that doesn't mean he won't give you support in whatever you may want to achieve, but he has the tendency to be the voice of reason when your idea seems a little bit too irrational.

Thrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Dick needs the thrill to live, he's addicted to it and a routine will bore him quickly.

He would try out some things to make your relationship a little bit more interesting, maybe it would be a new dynamic between you two or something from that sort. However, he wouldn't force you to do the change.

Understanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Well, he knows a lot about you and it's good at reading you the majority of the time, but this man can be so clueless that it's amazing how much he knows about you, but can pass unnoticed the simplest things.

He tries his best to understand your problems and bring a solution to them or just listen to what you have to say. However, it might be kind of hard for him to fully understand your angriness if your problem is mundane, but he does tries to understand.

Value - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Your relationship is something very important for Dick and he wouldn't want to be the one who do something to interfere in it, but his vigilante duty tend to step in and steal some of his time with you alongside his training with the Titans and his job.

Sometimes days can go by and you don't hear nothing about him (he says that he prefers not to call you when things are getting out of hands and he dosen't want you to get in the crossfire) or you'll go to bed alone and wake up in the same way. He hates it, but he feels like he's turning back on the city if he doesn't take the high and lows of the vigilante life.

Wild Card - random fluff headcanon but I did a blurb because he's my husband and I love him

Dick couldn't tell how long it has been since he had arrived to your place tired and covered from head to toe in purple-ish bruises. The week hasn't been kind to him, too many dangers trying to damage the city, but he was glad to be resting on top of you, far away from the battlefield for an instant.

The sound of rain crashing against the window was lulling him to sleep, making his eyelids feel as heavier as lead, but Dick didn't wanted to fall asleep. He wanted to make up for the lost time and enjoy your moment together.

The lingering touch of your fingers brushing against his back was oddly comforting, a reminder that you were here and you both were safe.

You kissed him on his head before he failed at his purpose of staying awake and submitted to the luring calmness of the noon and just fall to sleep with warmth sensation of knowing that he could finally rest.

XOXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

This man is a fan of cuddling with you with his head resting on your chest and your arms wrapped around him as you caress his scalp, yeah that's his favorite way to take a well deserved nap.

He can get pretty clingy when you two are alone, he dosen't see you that often thanks to his two jobs so he wants to make up for the lost time with you. So prepare yourself for stolen kisses and quick hugs that he isn't sure how to start.

Yearning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He will get himself busy somehow, it dosen't matter if that means drowning in paperwork or doing extra training, Dick wants to keep the fact that you're out as long as possible so he wouldn't overthink.

But when there's nothing left to do, he will listen your voicemails again and even re read your over sweet conversations, but please don'tet the others know about this...

Zeal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

You have become someone important in Dick's life and therefore he wants to keep you by his side as long as possible, so he's going to try to maintain your relationship.

Dick would search for you, it doesn't matter how far you and the dangers he has to face. He wants to know you're still out there, safe and sound and you can bet he will try his best to protect you.

Tag list: @nervousfandom @la-femme-lupita @c0-77 @jasontoddismyhusband

#answered #fluff alphabet #dick grayson hc #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing imagine #nightwing x reader #batboys preference #batboys imagines #titans headcanon #titans headcanons #dc titans #titans imagine #dc imagine

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belovedrival · 3 years

Text

“It’s Jonas.”

It’s been almost six months but I did say I would talk about my experience, so here goes...

(It’s really long, I started this draft when Jonas was three months old)

I was told that I would be induced on March 10, a Wednesday. My due date was the 17th but baby had been measuring large for months so my doctor just wanted to go ahead with it. I agreed. We’d made it to 39 weeks and that was good. Plus, I felt huge and just...done with being pregnant.

I worked (from home) on the 10th. It felt sort of surreal, knowing that we’d be at the hospital at 5 pm that evening, but I knew I needed to work to keep my mind off what was coming. For a while, at least.

We’d started packing the hospital bags for weeks before. I’d left my suitcase open next to the bed and I’d throw things in there whenever I’d do laundry or think of something else I wanted to take. I sort of knew then that I was majorly overpacking (and in hindsight it’s laughable how much stuff I never wore/used) but at least we were prepared, right?

Yeah, about that...

Mister drove to the hospital. Since I was being induced, it wasn’t any frenetic, movie scene type, panicked dad experience. We just put our things in the car and drove there. On the way we talked about how strange it was, knowing that when we came home (God willing), there would be a baby in the car seat. Of course at that time we still didn’t know if our baby was a girl or boy.

(Mister told me later that he was almost certain baby was a boy. He said he’d heard too many nurses/medical personnel ‘slip’ while we were having ultrasounds and whatnot.)

People can choose to find out or not, but it puts a whole other dimension on the experience when you don’t know in advance. Just my two cents.

As we turned into the hospital parking lot, Mister told me to open the glove box. “There’s something for you in there,” he said. I opened it, trying to swallow the bowling ball that had lodged itself in my throat.

“Oh!” I said. “What I always wanted - an owner’s manual!”

When I’m nervous, I often joke.

There was a small white box next to the owner’s manual. In it was a necklace with an aquamarine pendant; one of the birthstones for March. Of course I cried.

We took an obligatory selfie before going inside the hospital. After getting checked in, we went to our room. I remember thinking that we’d only be in that room probably a day, and that 24 hours later, we’d be upstairs post delivery.

Ha. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!

I was given a drug to start labor (not pitocin). I’ve always hated needles and so getting an IV was not part of my top 100,000 Things I Love to Do List. Thankfully, the nurse who put it in was really good, so I barely felt anything.

The one major memory of this whole experience (other than Jonas, of course) was how good the nurses were. I am forever grateful to them.

Other than the IV and monitors, Mister having to sleep on the sofa, and me laying on a hospital bed, we could almost trick ourselves into imagining we were staying at some sort of hotel. Almost. For a few hours, anyway.

Wednesday night into Thursday morning was okay. I was feeling persistent pain. It wasn’t terrible, just uncomfortable, and I knew that it was part of the process. I didn’t sleep great but I was able to get some rest.

Around six o’clock there was a shift change, and my nurse for the day came in. Liz had a kind of cheerleader vibe about her, very positive, and in some other circumstances I might’ve found her annoying. But I liked her.

My doctor came in a little after seven and broke my water. That experience was...weird. I mean, it was a new experience for me, so it’s hard to describe. Uh, water is wet, so it was wet? Honestly, the thing I remember the most is that there was some meconium after Doc broke my water, which worried me a little. Baby was doing fine and no one seemed super worried, so I set it aside. I DID think it meant I was guaranteed to have the baby that day. How wrong I was, and not for the first time...

They gave me pitocin after my water was broken. So my contractions increased. It felt more like strong period cramps to me. I should say at this point that I have a high pain tolerance. I don’t know what the same level of contractions would feel like to someone else. Sometimes I was only mildly aware that I was having them.

Probably one of the most annoying things about my entire experience Wednesday/Thursday/into Friday was not being allowed to eat anything. I had ice chips, and water, and Liz managed to get me some Jello. This was actually something of an issue, because I had gestational diabetes, so at first nobody wanted to give me anything except for sugar-free Jello. I did have some of that, but as the day wore on and there wasn’t much progress, Liz talked to somebody and got me some regular Jello. I would’ve preferred something else, but Jello was what I was allowed, so Jello I got.

I...don’t really like Jello. Seriously, like if it’s the only thing, I’ll eat it, but...yeah.

The hours ticked by. Progress was slow. At first I looked forward to Liz and the other nurses coming in and checking me, but by late afternoon, it was clear that things were slooooooow. The best part of Thursday was sometime in the afternoon Liz suggested bouncing on the ball. I was really happy to get out of bed and bounce for a while. After doing that, I decided it was time for the epidural.

I’d decided beforehand I wanted an epidural. As I said, I absolutely hate needles, but I also didn’t want my body to be so stressed that labor couldn’t progress. In the back of my mind, I also thought that if the situation changed, and a c-section became necessary, the epidural would already be in place.

After the epidural was put in, I started shaking on the edge of the bed, tears rolling down my face. Liz was still holding on to me, and Mister was there, and they both asked what was wrong. I couldn’t speak for a minute. It felt a little like I was five years old, still terrified of that darn needle, and all the tension I’d suppressed had to get out somehow.

“It’s okay,” Liz said, giving me a hug. Sometimes that’s all that’s needed. I was sorry to see her go when her shift ended. She said she was working again on Saturday and that she’d stop by to see us after the baby was born, to see what we were having. (She did stop by.)

This was a constant refrain from most of the nurses: upon first coming into the room, and looking at the white board that had my information and seeing next to “Baby” was written “Surprise!!” we inevitably got the question, “You don’t know what you’re having? That’s awesome!”

Getting the epidural made the pain diminish, but it also made things more complicated for me because I couldn’t move. Overnight, a tag team of nurses turned me one way and the other, and checked me.

(I should also mention that all of the staff at the hospital had already been vaccinated, and they all wore masks into the rooms. We did not have to wear masks in the room, but if we went outside it, they were required.)

By Thursday night, both Mister and I were feeling rather discouraged. All day Thursday we’d been told that baby would come “by the afternoon”, then “by the evening”, and then late Thursday, “by Friday morning”. Bear in mind that I’d been on an IV/ induced since roughly six pm on Wednesday.

Maybe this sounds laughable to people who’ve had 72 hour long labors, but I’d been mentally prepared for around 24 hours of labor. My twin sister had been induced with her first, and her labor had gone about that long. Around midnight on Thursday I was feeling pretty discouraged. Mister wasn’t angry but he said (when we were alone) that he felt like the staff had been overly optimistic. I just don’t think either of us had thought about the implications of me being induced without any sign of active labor. In hindsight, I was glad it was done then, but...yeah. Not being mentally prepared for that long of a labor was hard. I felt bad for everyone who was waiting on updates; it felt like literally nothing happened for about thirty hours. Like I think was dilated to five by Friday morning. And effaced? Practically nothing. My cervix wasn’t getting thinner at all.

Early Friday morning, a new nurse started her shift. My first impressions of Diana were...well, I thought, “she’s definitely not as friendly as Liz.” She was more brusque. As I hadn’t slept much Thursday night, and having been in the same situation for over a day, I didn’t care nearly as much about making friends. By that point I was tired - physically, mentally, emotionally.

But Diana was awesome. She got me turned onto my hands and knees, and had me start doing some vigorous exercises, to really move labor along. I was fine with doing whatever she said because I was REALLY ready to be done. So it felt a little like my cross country days in high school, at the finish of a difficult race. I was tired, I wasn’t sure how much I could do physically, but we had a GOAL and dammit, we were going to do everything to get there!

By late morning, even after the exercises, I was still dilated at a five. Hardly effaced at all. After checking me again, Diana left the room. The option of a c-section had been discussed, especially since it was over 24 hours since my water had been broken.

“I think I’m done,” I said to Mister. Even though I’d never really been 100% ‘I want a natural birth experience’, it felt a little like giving up. I started crying again. “I just don’t think this [natural labor] is going to work. I’m done.”

“If you’re done, that’s it,” Mister said. “Tell Diana you want a c-section.”

I have to say something here about Mister. Even though he kept saying he didn’t know what he was doing or how he should support me, he was AWESOME. He supported every decision, and listened to me talk about the different options. For as hard as labor was for me, I think he had a different hard time. All he could do was literally sit there and watch me go through pain and doubt and fear, and comfort me as best he could. He was a great comfort.

(This is why even if thoughtful partners don’t think they’re doing a good job at supporting laboring moms, they most likely are. Their presence is invaluable. For anyone who doesn’t have a supportive partner with them, or an absent one, my profound condolences.)

When Diana came back in, I told her I wanted a c-section. This was around 11 o’clock Friday morning, March 12th. “I agree,” she said right away, patting me on the shoulder. “You’ve done everything you possibly can to get this baby delivered naturally. I trust mom’s instincts on this.”

Her support meant so much. Really, when a veteran nurse says they trust your instinct, how can you not feel better about your decision?

She left to contact my doctor and several other people, and Mister let people know what was going on. At that point I was more relieved that soon it would be over. I wanted to see our baby.

Mister said later that he learned that hospitals have two speeds: 1) we’re in no rush; and 2) something is going to happen NOW. While my c-section wasn’t an emergency, once the decision was made, things did happen fast. Diana brought the anesthesiologist into the room so he could numb me up. As I already had the epidural, this didn’t take very long. After a few minutes of letting the medication work, Bryce asked if I could feel my toes.

“No,” I said. It was weird. I knew I shouldn’t feel them, but I couldn’t help saying, “I’m trying to wiggle them!”

“No, no, it’s good you can’t feel them,” both Bryce and Mister said. I was wheeled out of the labor room a few minutes after that (I was not sorry to leave it) and taken to the OR. Mister went with someone else to take our stuff to the recovery room.

I’ve been in operating rooms before. They aren’t places that make me want to stay there. Bright lights, metal everywhere, many thoughts of what could go wrong...although I will say that all the staff in the OR made me feel confident. I was glad to see my doctor.

I felt better once I was in the OR (the only time in my life I’ve ever felt that way) but it felt like a long time until Mister arrived in there. He’d gone with a member of staff as they took all our stuff to a recovery room, then been taken to the OR. Once he was in place, everything started.

Doctor M had asked me before Mister arrived if he wanted to ‘announce’ was the baby was. I told her that he most likely would, but to ask him. She did, and he said yes, he’d love to do that.

There was a blue sheet in front of me so I really couldn’t see anything that went on - which was PERFECTLY FINE with me.

Obviously, I was flat on my back, and everything below my chest was numb. The doctor and others asked me at various times if I felt anything, and I didn’t (other than tugging and pulling). At one point, I suddenly smelled the unmistakable scent of something burning. “What is that? That burning smell?” I asked, glancing above me (really, behind me) at Bryce, who stood there.

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Which immediately told me I didn’t want to know what it was.

Yeah, it was me burning, while the medical staff cauterized me, keeping me from bleeding to death.

(The fact that cesarean sections are major surgery, and regularly happen every day in the United States, is, frankly, a miracle. Everyone hears about the horror stories when something goes wrong, but considering the number of women who go through them without incident, we as a society completely take them for granted.)

As the tugging and pulling continued, and Doctor M said things like, “there’s the head”, the sense of anticipation increased. I’ve never felt anything like it before. Both Mister and I knew any moment we would meet our baby, and after waiting 39 weeks (and eight years before that), it was almost unbearable.

Doctor M said, “Here’s the baby!”

I heard a slight cry, and I looked up at Mister, who sat on my right, holding my hand. He looked down at me and said, “It’s Jonas.”

Even thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. In knowing Mister almost eleven years, I’ve only seen him cry maybe five times. Including this year, on March 12th. We both were bawling, and laughing at the same time, as Jonas VERY loudly screamed his disapproval at being evicted from his warm, cozy space. At one point, Mister, laughing as he cried said, “One of the ---s (our last name) needs to stop crying in here!”

He has a rather husky cry, Jonas does. I loved his cry from the moment I first heard it (though I don’t actually like to hear him cry, if that makes any sense).

As I was sewn up, Mister moved his chair over to where our baby was, under a heat lamp. Then he brought Jonas over to me. My first thought was, he’s HUGE. My second thought was, he was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.

He weighed nine pounds, five ounces at birth, and had a fifteen inch head circumference. After I heard that, I knew a natural birth was never going to happen. He was born on Friday the 12th of March, at 1:14 pm. The digital clock on the wall said 13:14, which I thought was cool. And it made it a bit easier to remember the time :)

He had lots of dark hair, which I loved. My sister’s had bald babies, so it was nice to have a different-looking kid. Over the last few months, his hair almost entirely disappeared due to cradle cap, and is coming back in...blond. Genetics!

I can say now that it’s past, that I was more afraid during pregnancy than I could admit to anyone, even Mister. I have always been a worrier, and finally being pregnant after so many years, and being high risk due to my age (and my shunt, and the gestational diabetes...) I was in almost constant worry of something going wrong. First of miscarriage (no one needed to tell me of the statistics regarding older mothers), then of stillbirth, like the cord getting wrapped around baby’s neck, and death happening before delivery could happen. I have heard of at least two different stories of that happening to pregnant women in the ninth month - friends of friends of mine - and the fear of that, or something else equally catastrophic happening was, at times, almost crippling. I would’ve preferred to have never been pregnant at all rather than suffer a miscarriage or stillbirth.

Perhaps it sounds childish, but mentally I didn’t think I was strong enough to have the dream of motherhood dashed, when every day of pregnancy brought that dream closer. I was (and still am) too much of a realist to ignore the statistics; I couldn’t pretend I was 22 and have a blissfully ignorant uneventful pregnancy. To this day, even after giving birth to a healthy baby, one of the biggest things that will set me off is the assumption that way too many people have. “We’re planning on getting pregnant soon.” “Just have kids, you’ll understand.” “I can take you out and make one just like you.” [a redneck phrase I’ve heard being said to a misbehaving child]

Not many of us can “plan” on getting pregnant exactly when we want to - or even within a year’s time. Not all of us can “just have kids” - they’re not like going to the store and getting a gallon of milk. (I recognize the privilege of living in a society where going to the store and expecting fresh milk can also sound arrogant to those who don’t live in one.) ‘Take out’ a kid (even said in jest), and ‘make another one’? I MIGHT have another child in the next couple years. More likely, I won’t. Not all of us can just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. (That’s assuming the one wanting to get pregnant even has a male partner or sperm donor at the ready...some never find that person to have a child with. And adoption can be a great thing, but not everyone is cut out for it. Shaming infertile and childless people for not wanting to adopt is disgusting.)

I was open with my OB-GYN about my fears during pregnancy and she referred me to several resources, and monitored me for PPD. My best friend’s son died in March 2020, a year before Jonas was born (though Billy had severe disabilities which made his death a certain thing), and my sister had had a stillborn son in August 2019 (my nephew Christian). So Jonas being born healthy was a huge relief for me. I can’t really describe the relief, except to say that as much physical weight I gained during pregnancy, letting go of the weight of the worry was felt even more deeply than losing the pounds since his birth (and I’ve haven’t lost all of that).

I will probably always worry about *something*, when it comes to Jonas. He gave me a scare earlier this week, rolling off the couch before I could catch him. He’s fine...and the incident scared me more than it scared him. But every day since he was born is a reminder of the gift he is, and I hope I never lose sight of that, even on the frustrating days (and there have been those over the last almost six months, and there will be more to come).

If you ever wanted children, and are fortunate enough to have them, cherish them. Be grateful for them, even when they drive you up the wall. Even when you only want three minutes’ peace, and they won’t give it to you. Love them anyway. I try to.

#this was heavier than i thought it would be #don't get me wrong #i had a good experience overall #nurses are awesome #nurses #hospital #birth #birthday #march 12 #jonas #2021 #life #real life #family #me and mister #mister #he's great #pregnancy #parenthood

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ghostxraven · 3 years

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hi pi! i hope you are well :) if you'd like to, could you share more abt poison and ghoul as parents? i love them so much <3

hi eden! i’m well ty!! and i would LOVE to

uhhh so they’ve raised a kid before, obviously, but when the girl was a baby all of them were teens (ghoul & poison specifically were about 16 when she came home for the first time) so the ‘parenting’ style with her was different than it was with charlie. mostly because it was their first time trying to take care of a child and so when charlie came home they were a bit more confident but ALSO definitely because they mellowed out a bit (poison mostly) when they got older. with the girl it was a more complicated situation — the fab four were somewhere between parental figures and older siblings to her, she was able to get away with a lot more stuff but also saw a lot more claps because they didn’t have any way to keep her from that. with charlie they were able to keep a bit more from her — the girl could watch her, when claps happened, and by the time charlie was born they’d stopped looking for violence/picking fights with dracs, crows, etc. too, which helped.

i think when they were talking about having a baby, one thing that was really important to them was being a Team. so they do their best to talk to each other about everything. and especially when charlie is very little, she always wants to be held, so they take turns passing her back and forth. if poison’s got her, ghoul will make her formula and bring it out for her, with a kiss for both of them and a can of power pup for poison. if ghoul’s got her, it’s poison who’ll get the clothes/bottle/diapers/etc. teamwork!

ghoul has a tendency to talk to babies like small adults. serious faces, serious questions, “uh huh, mm hm, tell me more” with babytalk. i think he kinda talks like this with charlie (and the girl. but this clip specifically makes me think about charlie). he’s very gentle, very good with kids, diagnosed with older sibling syndrome. the problem with that is that he can be a little fussy and overbearing when charlie gets older (he tries not to be. but sometimes he can’t help it 😔) um i think he’s particularly good at doing charlie’s & the girl’s hair. at the same time that he’s good with kids he also has a tendency to take the girl and later, charlie, to dubiously safe situations (ie bomb deals/trades with sort-of dangerous rough-and-tumble crews in like. a jerryrigged baby bjorn/sling with a bag of teddy grahams and a sippy cup in a diaper bag. it does occasionally help deescalate situations if the other crew is jumpy.) also i think ghoul will sing her little songs to help her go to sleep and keeps her with him if he’s working in the shed/diner and she’ll be in either her highchair or on a blanket with her toys where he can keep an eye on her.

poison loves kids and is an older sibling but is also very nervous about turning out like what he vaguely remembers his parents being. also between starting the crow program and leaving the city with kobra he wasn’t....the BEST older sibling (he was actually kind of a dick, and really regretted it later). and they really don’t want to project any of that (any issues whatsoever, really) onto a child, so they’re really careful with kids. they kind of treat the girl and charlie like they’re breakable, especially when they’re very small babies. almost....touch-shy? like especially as a teen he would smile at kids and play with the sandpups at gravel gertie’s when the four volunteered, but he wouldn’t want to hold them, wouldnt want to touch them too much, and that carried over a bit with the girl and even when they had charlie. they got better about that, though they still have a tendency to overthink the way he interacts with kids and talks to them. the upside is that he’s very soft with the girl & charlie, and once he got more used to it, he wanted to make sure they weren’t touch-starved and started being a lot more touchy-feely. it’s like all their sharp edges that outside crews see (and even some that friends/members of their crew see) get smoothed over with their kids. poison’s a bit of a pushover for the girl & charlie so they’ll come home from the market with a new pack of crayons and a little pouch of candy just because charlie pointed at them and made big puppy eyes. ghoul’s more willing to tell her no, so they DO balance each other out. on the other hand if poison is on a run alone with charlie there’s no one to stop them from buying her a new toy or stopping on the way to let her play at gertie’s even if there’s a time crunch <3 (and they will). poison will also take her out on drives if she’s fussy during the night, and he’s a night owl so he’s pretty willing to sit up late with her when she’s an infant and needing to eat formula or be held at like 3 or 4 am.

they keep her crib in their room until she’s old enough to have her own; ghoul made her a mobile out of meticulously cleaned and sanded down spare parts from discarded projects and poison painted the wall behind it. i don’t wanna call them crafty because that makes them sound like a diy pinterest couple (tho. modern au that’s honestly what they are) but they do make a lot of stuff for the girl/charlie (and even later jet’s little cousin) including but not limited to: a new highchair (the girl’s was a lil old by then and also uh. made of a crate and some wood planks), a set of blocks with her name on it, a drac-in-the-box, a monkey halloween costume based off a picture in one of cherri’s many books, and a plush animal (rabbit? giraffe? horse? yes) only a little more finessed than the one ghoul made for the girl when they first adopted her.

other assorted thoughts: they do the little swinging thing between them when they’re standing on either side holding her hands.

poison draws pictures with both the girl and charlie.

charlie will help ghoul make food in the kitchen and steal little bits of batter while ghoul pretends not to notice.

charlie loves being in on a secret so she gets to help plan birthday “surprises” for both her parents & uncle kobra and jet. sometimes it’s not so secret but she gets so excited about it that obviously no one’s going to point it out to her.

when she’s about four charlie finds a hurt baby bird out on the carpark in front of the diner and through the combination of her & the girl making a “presentation” on all the reasons they should be allowed to keep it and ghoul making soft sad eyes at the baby bird in the shoebox poison reluctantly says she can take care of it until it’s better. by the end of the chick’s stay with them poison cries when they have to let it go, so.

this isn’t necessarily a poison/ghoul parenting thought but it is charlie-related um i think the girl was super excited to be an older sister and even though they have a ~14 year age gap between them the girl and charlie are very close. charlie thinks the girl is the PEAK of cool and if they aren’t going to be doing something overly teenage and stupid the girl will let charlie tag along with her and her friends sometimes. she’s also very patient in playing games with her and charlie’s most vocal advocate when it comes to doing stuff she wants (charlie wants to go to see doc. charlie wants a popsicle. charlie wants to play at the playset in zone 3. charlie wants to borrow a movie from uncle cherri) and can understand her when she’s first learning to talk even better than poison or ghoul especially really early on. she’s the diner’s best CJ translator (also i think charlie has a bit of a speech impediment & is hard of hearing so for people outside of the fab four & their circle of friends it can be hard to necessarily understand everything she’s saying; the girl really helps with this and they practice sign language together with ghoul since he’s the best at ZSL in the crew. also she’s autistic just like poison)

anyways wah i talked a lot sorry but i hope this is what you were looking for! (i always love talking about my canon tysm for giving me the opportunity 🥺❤️)

#ttlotfk #killjoys california #danger days #headcanons #funpoison #pi's personal #query on top #treasured mutuals #january tag ❄️#hcs #charlieeeeee :} & the girl!!#i love the girl......i love the idea of her being the Super Cool older sister who takes her tiny baby sister everywhere <3 #bitches really do be like 🤲 *projects childhood and personal experiences/siblings’ life experiences onto fictional characters*#ty eden!!!#long post

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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 35 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: I just...someone call the Pope.

“First class again?” Bee asked as she looked down at the boarding pass that had just printed out from the kiosk at Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. She readjusted the Louis Vuitton tote bag on her shoulder – the same one that Lucy convinced her to buy all those months ago – and looked up at Morgan quickly.

“Did you expect anything less from me?” Morgan asked, looking down at her. “I mean…really.”

Bee snorted as she took a closer look at the boarding pass in her hand, wondering if she got a window seat again or if she was in an aisle cubby. As she looked at her seat number, a peculiar word caught her eye. “Uh oh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think it printed out the wrong boarding pass for us. We might have to go back up to that lady who took our luggage.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan said, his tone not phased at all by the apparent error. Morgan flew all the time – this was probably a common error. Did private team jets still print boarding passes?

“It says the destination is Kelowna instead of Vancouver,” Bee said.

“That’s because the destination is Kelowna.”

For a moment, Bee couldn’t understand the words coming out of Morgan’s mouth. She looked at him like he had three heads, trying to decipher the words. “We…we’re going to Kelowna?” she asked. He nodded. “But…I thought we were going to Vancouver?”

“We are, silly. I’m surprising you with a trip to the Okanagan Valley first, then we’re going to Vancouver,” Morgan was smirking at her.

“The Okanagan Valley? You mean like B.C. wine country?”

“Precisely,” he leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Who would I be if I didn’t surprise you with something. And don’t Morgan me.”

She sneered at him playfully. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Sure.”

“But you do…I mean…” she began, wondering if she should even say the words. “You do know we could be staying in a Motel 6 and I’d be happy.”

“Briony,” he said her name in a half-amused, half-warning tone. He leaned down to kiss her again before continuing. “What’d I say about this stuff.”

“I know, but--”

“We are going to have,” kiss, “a very good time,” kiss, “going on winery tours,” kiss, “and watching the sunset,” kiss, “over the Okanagan,” kiss, “and then we’re gonna take a roadtrip,” kiss, “to Vancouver,” kiss, “and watch the sunrise,” kiss, “over the Sunshine Coast,” kiss, “just like last time,” kiss.

Bee couldn’t help but smile at his words. She was also very conscious of the fact that he was kissing her multiple times in the middle of a busy airport. She didn’t used to be that person, but Morgan brought it out of her. She licked her lips and bit her bottom lip before looking up at him. “You’re too good to me,” she mumbled.

“You get what you deserve, Bumblebee,” he winked. “Now let’s go.”

***

When they touched down in Kelowna, they checked in at the Delta Grand Okanagan Resort on the waterfront and changed into workout gear. Morgan wanted to take Bee hiking up the mountain to see the views, and she was more than ready to comply, despite the fact that she knew she was out of shape and would probably have to stop several times along the way up the mountain. She knew the views would be worth it, and if she was a sucker for anything, it was views from mountaintops. Considering she had never been to Kelowna, she thought it the perfect introduction.

They began their hike at the base of Knox Mountain Park, following the trail diligently and making sure to stay on the designated path. There were a lot of hikers out and about due to the beautiful day outside, so there were many quick greetings and many dog pets as they made their way up. About half way up the hike, they happened upon a group of middle-aged people – Bee would say they were probably around Rocco and Clarette’s age – with four golden retrievers between them. Morgan was in absolute heaven. Everybody stopped so the dogs could be pet, and one of the men eventually recognized Morgan, so everyone posed for a group photo. Bee was pulled into it for some reason. The man’s wife was so excited that she pulled Bee in. It was all very nice, but unnecessary for her to be there. She could have at least taken the photo.

When they got to the top of the mountain about twenty minutes later, Bee gasped. There, before her eyes, was Okanagan Lake and the city of Kelowna spread out across the landscape. Though she was out of breath, probably red, and definitely sweating, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed at the sight before her. The vast expanse before her was almost too much to handle; too beautiful to forget. She focused hard, and long, creating a mental image in her head of the view so that she’d never forget it. She didn’t want this memory to disappear.

It was only when she felt Morgan’s arm wrap around her waist that her trance sort of ended – even then, she couldn’t look at him, too transfixed on finding every little detail to remember. The colour of the trees. The sparkle of the water. The deep blue of the sky. “It’s beautiful, eh?” he asked softly.

“Like…it’s not fair,” she said, causing Morgan to giggle slightly. “I know I said this on the boat that morning in January but you’re so lucky that you got to grow up here. Like, incredibly lucky.”

“I know, Bumblebee. That’s why I want to bring you here all the time,” he admitted. “I want you to love it as much as I do.”

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally looked up at him. “I already do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just by virtue of the fact that you grew up here. Never mind the views and the scenery and the people – they’re extra. I love it because you love it. Because it’s your home.”

Morgan leaned down to kiss her, not caring about how many people were around possibly watching. Sometimes, Bee had the simplest reasons for things, and for a guy who got stuck in his head too much and came up with overly complicated explanations for things some of the time, it was that simplicity that he needed. I love it because it’s your home. It was the simplest sentiment but one that brought out the best in Bee. She didn’t need anything besides the ground beneath her feet and her favourite people by her side. Everything else was extra. “I love you, you know that?” he whispered against her lips.

“You do?”

He pinched her butt playfully. “Smart ass.”

“Yeah, but you love my ass.”

“You’re lucky I do.”

***

So you’re finally working out. About fucking time, fat ass.

Surprised you’re not off fucking Fred or Tyler for your 15 minutes of fame. But then again, who’d want to fuck someone as desperate as you?

Making Morgan spend money on you again…typical. Bleeding him dry. If you were smart you’d be with Auston bc he has way more money.

All the Toronto girls are talking about you behind your back. I hope you know that. You’re still the biggest social climber ever. You think you’re hot shit but you’re not. And just because your new BFF is Aryne, it doesn’t mean a thing. Everybody can see right through you. When Aryne and Morgan dump you, it’s over for you. You’re already so irrelevant.

Why do u think u can wear tights like that omg u look like a complete whale!

Go drown urself in that lake bitch

“Is everything okay?” Morgan asked as he crawled into bed beside Bee, snuggling up to her automatically as she lay in bed with a lace camisole pyjama set. Bee had sent Angie a quick text to see how Bruce was doing, and Angie was supposed to have sent a video of Bruce back to them. She and Mason were cat and house sitting the apartment while they were away.

“It’s fine,” she sighed. “Just reading the latest messages from my fan club.”

“Fan club?” Morgan asked. When she gave him her phone and he saw the familiar layout of Instagram, he knew immediately what she was talking about and furrowed his brows.

Ur soooooooo desperate for attention

U look like a cheap hooker…like not even an escort. Ur so trash!!!!!

You should learn a thing or two from Lucy and her yoga business. AKA stop leeching off your boyfriend!!!!! You think you’re better than everyone else when you’re not. SAD!

Morgan is stupid to be with you. I don’t understand what he sees in trash like you.

“Bumblebee…you don’t…I can’t…” he couldn’t find the right words to say as he shook his head. “I’ve gotta talk to Steve again…”

“He’s not coming back from Europe for you, Morgan.”

“Briony, you shouldn’t have to be dealing with this,” he said sternly, unable to joke about this like she was. “I know how much this affects you, baby. And it’s not fair. It’s not fair that they can say whatever they want to you and you have to refrain from saying anything back. That you can’t…that you…” he trailed off.

“That I what?” she asked. She was practically able to see the gears shifting in his head.

“You can’t say anything about it…but what if I did?”

“NO,” she half-screamed, grabbing her phone out of his hand quickly before his thoughts got the best of him. She sat up in the bed and he followed her, sitting up too. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, NO. Don’t you dare. Don’t you – that would make it worse, Morgan. That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever come up with. Could you imagine the media coverage on that? Kyle would blow a gasket, let alone Steve. Shanny might have a stroke.”

“But I want to keep you safe, Bumblebee. I need to keep you safe,” he tried to reason with her.

“Not at the expense of your good reputation with the team and in Toronto and definitely not at the expense of your career,” she said sternly. “Morgan Frederick Rielly, don’t you even think about it.”

“But Briony--”

“Don’t.”

“I don’t understand how you can handle all this. It’s all my fault,” he said.

“It is most definitely not your fault.”

“I feel guilty every day, every fucking time I have to read one of those fucking messages or see you torn up about it. Canada Day wrecked me. To see you like that…Briony, I can’t. How can you be so…how can you handle it? How aren’t you scared ab--”

“Shhhhh…” she said quietly, bringing her finger up to his lips to quiet him. “Because my love for you is greater than my fear of that.”

Morgan took a moment to internalize her words. His chest was heaving slightly, he was a bit agitated, and his mind was set on doing something about it himself if he had to, but all he had to hear was her voice, her smooth, calming voice, and all those feelings washed away. “You…”

“My love for you is greater than my fear of that, or them, or anything they say to me,” she repeated, cradling his face in her hands as she kissed him. “You need to start realizing that. They can say whatever they want, and sometimes it might hurt me, and I might cry about it a little bit, but I’m stronger than that and I’ve been through way worse.”

Morgan sighed heavily. “Bumblebee…”

“Shhhhh…” she shushed him again, her finger on his lips being replaced by her own lips. “They’re all jealous. That’s all it is. Jealously. Jealous that you’re mine and jealous that we’re building a life together. Jealous that I get this giant hunk of man all to myself,” she whispered, kissing him again. “Now…if you don’t mind, I’d like to show this giant hunk of man how grateful I am for him and everything he does.”

“B-Bumblebee…” he mumbled out before she kissed him again.

“Quiet, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan did as he was told. He began kissing her back, softly at first, then with a fervour he reserved only for her, that only she could bring out of him. And when she began kissing along his jawline, climbing on top of his body simultaneously and rubbing her core on his thigh, all his thoughts dissipated completely, replaced with a hunger that he felt only for her. He was insatiable for her. He could never get enough of her. He wanted her always, all the time, constantly, incessantly, persistently. His body ached for hers. It was crazy, he thought, how well they fit together. How their bodies responded to one another instinctually. He wouldn’t be able to find this with anyone else – couldn’t find this with anybody else.

Her took off her lace camisole easily. With her breasts now exposed he took the opportunity to lean forward and take a nipple in her mouth, sucking and teasing and biting down gently. She threw her head back, her long hair cascading down her back, and cradled his head in her hands before tugging on the tufts of his hair gently. She took his shirt off easily. Over it went, across the room, and she moved down his body to slip his boxers off slowly.

“Briony…” he managed to mumble out as she stayed there, grabbing his already hard cock in her hands.

“Shhhh,” she shushed him for the umpteenth time that night. She began stroking it and watched as he gulped. “I got you, baby.”

“I d…I don’t want to cum in your mouth,” he mumbled. “Don’t – when I say--”

“Mmkay,” she said quickly, licking the tip of his cock. “Just say the words,” she said in an almost playful tone before dipping down and taking him in her mouth.

He gathered some of her hair in his hand to get it out of her face; he didn’t want his view to be obstructed as she bobbed up and down, his cock disappearing inside her mouth further and further until he felt the head of his cock touch the back of her throat. He closed his eyes momentarily, relishing in the feeling. “Fuck, baby,” he sighed out.

Bee let out a mischievous giggle, her fingernails digging lightly into his thigh. “You like that, don’t you?” she asked as she scratched down slowly. Morgan nodded his head desperately. “You love it when I suck your cock.”

“Y-Yes,” he stuttered out. “Fuuuck Briony, I love it when my cock is down your throat.” He felt her dip down again, her tongue swirling around the tip, licking the pre-cum greedily. “You better start touching yourself,” he told her.

He watched as she slipped a hand down her body and underneath her shorts, wiggling out of them with ease. By now, he was rock hard, and when Bee looked up at him with her big green eyes before she took him in her mouth all the way, hitting the back of her throat again, his hips buckled and he let out a loud groan. She gagged slightly, his movements shoving his cock deeper into her throat, but when he looked at her again, she was already looking at him, a slight smile in her eyes that drove him fucking crazy. “Briony…p-p-please--”

She ignored him, looking away and focusing on her movements instead, and the feeling of his hand tugging at her hair slightly so he could get a better look at her. His grunts and movements gave her the confidence to keep going, to take risks and be as daring as she could. It wasn’t long, though, before Morgan’s breath became heavier, his chest rising and falling with every gasp her took. “B-Briony…”

She moaned on his cock in response, taking him to the back of her throat one more time before her mouth left his cock with a large pop. “I want more of your cock, baby. Just cu--”

“N-No,” he stuttered out.

“Babyyyyy,” she mewled, kissing the tip.

“No. I want…I…get up here,” he huffed out.

“Ba--” she tried again, but Morgan wasn’t having any of it. His hand left her hair as he leaned forward, pulling her up and flipping her onto her back on the bed, his large body immediately over hers as he grabbed at her thighs and wrapped her legs around him. He didn’t wait – there was no time to wait – and entered her quickly, the feeling of her warm walls around his cock causing him to moan out again.

“Holy fuck Mo,” she gasped out, her legs wrapped tightly around his torso so he stayed buried deep inside of her, not allowing him to move just yet. “Fuck baby.”

“Who gets too fill you up, Briony?”

“You, baby.”

“Who?”

“You, Mr. Rielly. Only you get to fill me up,” she pulled his head down to kiss him passionately, lips and tongues everywhere.

Morgan bit down on her bottom lip, dragging it away with him as he straightened out his back and unwrapped her legs from his body. He brought them both together, keeping them over his shoulder as he looked down at her, her body flush with desire. “You okay?” he asked. She nodded her head quickly. “You want my cock buried deep inside of you?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head.

He began moving, slowly at first, her breasts bouncing along every time he thrust into her. He would watch her breasts bouncing like that all night if he could. He progressively kept getting rougher and rougher until he was pounding into her, her moans and cries fuel for him to give her more. “You like it when I fuck you like this?”

“Y-Yes,” it was her turn to stutter out. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

He could feel the heat inside of him growing. He grabbed at her legs that were over his shoulder and pushed them forward, into her body, changing the angle so he could go even deeper. She let out a string of expletives at the new feeling, her cries out music to his ears. “S’deep babe,” she could barely get the words out.

“You like that?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly. Yes. I love it when you fuck my pussy hard like that.”

“Are you gonna make that pretty pussy cum for me, Briony?”

She could only nod her head as he continued to pound into her, fast and rough and wild, until he felt her walls clench around him and heard her scream out his name over and over again. At the sound of his name escaping her lips so desperately and full of want, he exploded inside of her, leaning further into her so the angle was just right. Bee huffed, trying to catch her breath.

“Stay right there,” Morgan mumbled quickly.

“W…What?” she asked not understanding why he’d say such a thing. Where the fuck was she going to go?

It didn’t take long for her to find out. Two of his fingers slipped into her pussy quickly, causing her to gasp out, and they began moving quickly in and out of her, not allowing her to catch her breath or settle down from her first orgasm. “Mo...” she gasped out, but instead of answering her he licked his way down her body. He was being gentle but rough with his fingers, and she squirmed as she was pinned beneath him. “Mo Mo Mo Mo Mo…” she kept repeating his name as he finally attached his mouth to her clit, lapping and sucking like he was drinking a thick milkshake. “Mo, fuck, please.”

“All mine,” he mumbled against her pussy. “All fucking mine.”

“All yours Mr. Rielly. All yours,” she breathed out, grabbing hold of his hair. Her body gyrated at the sensation and it was too much; in no time, she was cumming again, the sound of her wetness and Morgan’s fingers still moving in and out of her just amplifying it all. He lapped up every last bit before moving back up, squishing her beneath his body as he kissed her.

“I love you Briony,” he mumbled against her lips.

She could taste her juices on his lips as she continued to kiss him. “I love you too baby. So much.”

***

“Wow, Ms. McTavish, you’re a natural!” Chef Michael smiled as Bee began basting the chicken breast cooking in the pan. The chef looked over to Morgan, who had given up a long time ago and chose instead to just watch – Bee had no problem cooking his chicken breast too. “You’re a lucky guy, eh?”

“The luckiest,” Morgan smiled as he watched Bee concentrating on the basting.

“Does she cook a lot at home?”

Morgan nodded his head. “My specialty is grilled cheese and breakfast for dinner. She does everything else.”

Chef Michael focused his attention back to Bee. “Alright Ms. McTavish, we need to let it simmer now. Let’s focus on those broccolini sautéing with the garlic. Think we should add more?”

“You can never have too much garlic.”

Chef Michael looked over at Morgan again. “My kinda girl!”

“I learned some of my cooking skills from an Italian,” Bee continued, stirring up the broccolini. “If a recipe called for two garlic cloves he’d put five.”

“Who are your friends? Your family? I need to meet these people!” Chef Michael exclaimed, so enthusiastic about everything. “Let’s mince some more garlic in there.”

When all was said and done, Bee had perfectly prepared two plates of creamy chicken in a white wine sauce, roasted Japanese sweet potatoes, and sautéed garlic broccolini. It smelled heavenly, and Morgan could tell she was so proud of herself as she fixed her plate with the last of the brocollini, Chef Michael instructing her on how to present everything beautifully. When she finished, he presented them with a bottle of white wine from the winery to have with their meal, uncorking it and pouring it for them.

“You two can bring your dinners out onto the patio with you. Ray will come to clean up the pans and dishes while you eat,” he said.

Morgan nodded but Bee furrowed her brows. “Oh, there’s no need for someone to clean up. We can just do that after.”

Chef Michael paused his movements momentarily. “No no Ms. McTavish, it’s fine. Ray will be in any second with the busser to take everything away.”

“I insist--”

“No ma’am, it’s fine,” Chef Michael stressed. “It’s part of the service. You can just enjoy your meal on the patio. You worked hard on it.”

“Bumblebee,” Morgan said gently. “It’s alright. We can go.”

She looked between Morgan and Chef Michael hesitantly before giving in. “Okay. Um, thank you,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked. “Are you positive? Because I can just wash everything after dinner. It’s no big deal.”

Chef Michael let out a laugh. “Go enjoy your meal Ms. McTavish. And have a good night.”

Bee followed Morgan out onto the patio with her plate and wine glass, his own already on the table. She looked back into the room as Morgan closed the sliding door, watching as Chef Michael gathered all the dirty cutlery and utensils and put them all in the sink. She looked to Morgan, who had pulled out her chair for her. “Does that usually happen?” she asked.

“Does what usually happen?”

“People cleaning up after you in these fancy shmancy places,” she clarified, setting her plate and wine down on the table.

“If you request for butler service, yes. But we didn’t get that,” Morgan said, knowing that would be her next question; that she would give him one of her looks if he did. “I think it’s just a part of the service they offer with the chef. I think they figure you’d want to eat right after instead of clean up.”

“It’s a bit…I mean, I can clean up after myself.”

“Not everybody is responsible and sensible like you,” he leaned his head down to kiss her quickly. “Now, let’s eat, shall we? I want to have a romantic dinner with my girlfriend.”

Romantic it was. Morgan couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. The scenery spread out before them was beautiful – just like everything else was in British Columbia – but he could only transfix his eyes on her, watching her as she ate and listening to anything she began talking about – how it was supposed to get cool that night, how Angie had sent her a new video of Bruce with the zoomies, how Mark had texted her that they had made record profits the past month for a particular client of theirs. If her voice were the only thing he heard for the rest of his life, he’d still die a happy man.

When they finished their meal, Bee stacked their plates on top of one another. She brought them into the villa, setting them in the sink before popping her head out the sliding door. “Is there a way you can call so they can come get these plates and not bother us for the rest of the night?” she asked. “I don’t want anyone coming back in. I just want to watch the sunset with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” Morgan nodded his head, getting up from his seat. “I’ll call.”

“Good. I’m going to the washroom,” she said, disappearing into the bedroom.

After some time, Ray was back to collect their plates and ask if they wanted anything else taken care of the night. Morgan declined, thanking him, and let him go for the night, making sure to lock the door behind him as Ray left. He found it a bit peculiar that Bee was still in the washroom. He hoped the food didn’t get to her; there’d be some strongly worded complaints if it did.

“Bumblebee? You alright in there?” he called out. He glanced at the screen door quickly to see the sunset in full bloom.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Is Ray gone?”

“Ray’s gone,” Morgan confirmed. “You feeling okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m feeling fine,” she responded, but he could tell her voice was a little off. “Can you…um…can you make sure the door is locked?”

“Already is.”

“Okay. Can you come into the bedroom?”

Morgan furrowed his brows. “Of course,” he said. “Are you sure you’re okay, Bumblebee?”

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, still calling out from the closed washroom. “Just…you know…get comfy. Change into your pyjamas. I’ll be out soon and we’ll go out and watch the sunset.”

Morgan did as she said, stripping himself down and changing into his pyjama bottoms. He sat in the chair, folding the jeans he had been wearing, before the light in the bedroom mysteriously turned off. He looked up, only the light from the sunset peeking through the window. “Bumblebee?” he saw her stand outside the doorway to the washroom.

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Good thing you’re already sitting in the chair. Topless, even,” there was a slight laugh in her voice, not answering his question. She turned on the lamp, illuminating the room romantically. He noticed she was wearing a robe. She never wore a robe at home.

“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes wide as he noticed it was a silk robe, lace trim dangling from the ends of sleeves.

Bee smiled shyly. “Just a little something.”

“Just a little something, huh?” Morgan gave her an up-down, throwing his jeans onto the floor beside him.

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, playing with the tassels that tied the robe together. “You know…I bet all that cooking must have taken a lot out of you,” she winked.

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle slightly. “Oh, it did. I am spent.”

“Well then. Just sit back and let me give you a show,” she smiled devilishly.

“A show?” Morgan asked. Bee nodded her head slightly. “You…you planned something?”

“Is that okay?”

Morgan couldn’t help but let out a light laugh. His body already felt on fire. She had planned something – with that robe on, and whatever else was underneath it – and was asking if it was okay? “Of course baby,” he said softly. “Let me see. Let me see what you’ve planned.”

Standing far away from him, she bent over and leaned forward, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “I trust you.”

“And I trust you. And I love you.”

“Good to know. Because by the end of this I have every intention of you fucking me like you don’t.”

Morgan’s pupils dilated. He gulped nervously. He watched as Bee straightened herself out and took a few steps back, playing again with the tassels on the robe before she started to sway her hips slowly back and forth. She worked on untying the tassels slowly, achingly so, and Morgan could feel himself getting hard with each passing hip sway. Eventually, she pulled, untying the bow and letting it fall, the robe becoming looser. A hint of pink lace peeked its way out of the robe.

“Briony…” Morgan barely made out her name.

“Yeah baby?” she asked in an innocent voice, her fingertips gliding along the edge of the fabric near her chest.

“What…what did you--”

“Shhhh baby,” she cooed, approaching him slowly, seductively. “What did I tell you?”

“But baby--” he tried reaching out to grab the fabric of the robe.

She smacked his hand away quickly. He looked at her in the eye, shocked. “Don’t touch me,” she ordered. “Don’t touch me unless I tell you. Just watch.”

She saw his chest rise and fall dramatically. “Briony--” he tried to grab at her again.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” she stressed, smacking his hand away once more. “Unless you want me to stop. Then you’ll have to take care of that,” she eyed down to the growing bulge in his pants, “all alone.”

There was a fire in her eyes and Morgan knew she meant it. This was completely new – he was completely blind-sided – but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He loved seeing this sort of confidence from Bee. He thought it partly cute, partly evil that she had planned this – masterminded it from the beginning. He nodded his head, agreeing with her. He couldn’t formulate a word. There was no point.

She took a couple of small steps back – far enough so Morgan couldn’t reach out, and far enough so he could get a full body view – and started to pull the robe down her shoulders slowly, letting it fall to the floor dramatically revealing, inch by inch, the blush pink floral lace bralette and garter set, complete with a matching pair of pantyhose.

“Oh my fucking God,” Morgan mumbled in disbelief.

A smile adorned Bee’s face. “Do you like, Mr. Rielly?”

Morgan nodded, beginning to feel an uncomfortable strain in his pants. “Yes,” he nodded his head almost desperately. “Yes. Yes. I love it,” he was a gibbering mess.

“D’you like the colour?”

“Yes.”

“And the lace?”

“Yes.”

“What about the garter? And the pantyhose?”

“I love it all,” the desperation was evident in his voice. “I love it all. Every fucking piece of it.”

“Good,” she bit her bottom lip, running her fingers along the lace of the thong that hung on her hips. She took a step towards him. “So if I came closer…” another step, “and closer,” another step, “and closer,” one final step, “you’d be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

Morgan huffed out a breath. “I don’t…”

“If I put my hand on your chest…” she moved to do exactly that, walking to his side. His head followed her as far as it could until she was behind him. “If my breath grazed the back of your neck…” she moved, again, to do exactly that as she stood behind him, her hand still on his chest as she gave the skin on his neck a quick kiss. She took a few steps so she was standing in front of him again, turning away so her back was towards him, her ass in full view. “If I sat in your lap, would you be able to keep your hands to yourself?”

She didn’t give him the chance to answer. She lowered herself onto his lap, swaying her hips back and forth for good measure. She heard Morgan grunt as she did so, absolutely fucking loving that she was getting such a reaction out of him. She felt powerful. Sexy. Sensual. She could feel the erection already in his pants and it made her the most confident she’d ever been.

“Fucking hell, Briony,” Morgan whispered. Like clockwork, it didn’t take long for her to feel his hand on her ass, even if it was just a quick caress.

She rose up quickly and slapped his hand away for a third time. He whined out in protest as she walked away from him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to look at him. “No. Touching.”

“But Briony--”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“NO! No no no,” he shook his head. “Please God no.”

“No more touching. Do you understand me?” she said, her voice seductive but stern. “No. More. Touching.”

“I won’t. I won’t.”

“Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise. I promise you,” he was desperate, so desperate. “I swear to you, I won’t touch you. Fuck Briony, fuuuuck, I w…I won’t touch you. Not unless you tell me. Just get back here.”

“Not until you beg.”

Morgan whined out again. “Briony. Briony please.”

“Beg.”

Morgan could swear there were tears forming in his eyes. “Please Briony, I promise. I’m begging you. Come back here so I can look at you. Please. Please.”

Briony smiled, biting down on her bottom lip again. “If you touch me without my permission again it’s over. Keep your hands to yourself.”

Morgan nodded his head. “I will. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise. Now please. Please come back here.”

Bee sauntered over to him, bending over so her breasts, covered by the delicate lace, were right in his face. She leaned forward so the material gently grazed against his nose and lips. “Lace is your favourite, isn’t it?” she asked, already knowing the answer. Morgan nodded his head. “You always go crazy for me in lace.”

“You look perfect in it,” his voice was low. “You make it look perfect. Every time.”

She straightened out briefly so she could turn around again, her ass facing him as she sat down on his lap. “You love spanking me too, don’t you.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered out.

She looked over to see his hands gripping the armrests of the chair, his knuckles almost completely white. Excellent. “Especially when I’ve been a good girl?”

“I…y…yes,” he huffed out, stuttering again. She watched as his hands shook through the grip he had on the armrests.

“Am I being a good girl right now?” she asked, grinding down against him gently.

“I’d reckon you’re being a bad girl right now.”

Bee let out a giggle, looking at him over her shoulder. “Is that so?”

“You’re being a very bad girl teasing me like this,” he reasoned.

“Whoops,” she rolled her eyes playfully at his answer. “Sorry not sorry.”

“Briony, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need to touch you,” he begged.

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet.”

“Wh – I – please,” he continued to beg. “You don’t understand, Briony.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head. She stood up again to face him, placing her hands on his chest. His eyes were pleading with her, but she didn’t budge. “What do you think of the garter and pantyhose?” she asked again, just to torture him.

“I love it. I love it all,” he said. “It looks so, so sexy. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”

Her hands made their way down his chest and over his bulge, settling on his knees as she shifted her weight from one leg to another again and again before flipping her hair in front of him dramatically. She promised him she’d give him a show, so she was going to give him a show. She incorporated her movements into pulling his pants off of him, revealing how rock hard he was. After scratching her nails up and down his thighs, she settled them on his knees once more before spreading his legs open dramatically. Morgan looked at her wide-eyed before she squatted down between his legs, her hips swaying from side to side.

“Jesus fucking Christ Briony,” his voice was frantic as she spun around on her tiptoes, still squatted, before swaying her hips back up into his face. “Briony.”

“You like that?” she ignored his pleading tone, knowing all he wanted was to touch her.

“Yes. Please Briony, can I t--”

“What about when I do this,” she said, spinning around to face him before climbing on to his lap. She flipped her hair in his face again, and began to grind down. His hands left the armrest dramatically, ready to grab her, but with every ounce of will he had left in – which wasn’t much – he balled his hands into fists and kept them away from her. She shoved her chest into his face, her hands on his shoulders and nails digging into his skin.

“Briony – you fucking – you don’t – you can’t--” he muttered out.

“You want to fuck me with this on, don’t you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want me to take it off?”

“No. Keep it on. Keep it all on. I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he told her as she grinded down on him again, his cock rubbing up against the fabric of her thong.

She smiled. “That’s what I like to hear, Mr. Rielly.”

“Can I touch you? Please?”

“No.”

“Briiiiiiony.”

“Not. Yet,” she said, arching her back. “Tell me something Morgan,” she began. He gave her cut eye. Her right hand slipped down between their bodies to her hot core. “Do you like it when I touch myself?”

Morgan huffed. “I like it when I touch you better.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how to make you feel good,” he said. “Because I like making you feel good.”

“And when you get to touch me, what are you going to do to me?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

She smiled. She grabbed his cock without warning and began to stroke it teasingly. She felt his hips buckle at her touch and knew she had teased and agonized him long enough. She grinded down on his lap one last time, for good measure, feeling just how hard his cock was. “Morgan?” she whispered in his ear.

“Yes Briony?”

“Make me be your good girl. Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Morgan was like a man possessed. In what felt like less than a second he grabbed her, picked her up, and threw her on the bed. He climbed onto the bed after her and flipped her over so she was flat onto her stomach, her legs spread apart for him but her ass slightly raised. She arched her neck to look behind her and saw him hovering over her. “You think you can play games like that with me and get away with it?” he asked her, his voice low and coarse and his hands went to the small of her back, pressing down so she stayed laying flat on the bed.

“You liked it, didn’t you Mr. Rielly?” she asked, her voice playfully innocent in tone. “You kept telling me how much you liked it. You begged to keep me close.”

He leaned forward so he could whisper in her ear. “Now I’m gonna make you beg,” he said, watching as her lips curved into a smile.

“Like your good girl?”

“Like my good girl,” he nodded his head. “I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Yes Mr. Rielly.”

“You can’t cum until I say so. Understood?”

“Yes Mr. Rielly,” she nodded her head, feeling his body loom over hers. He was still holding her down so she could barely move. “Mr. Rielly, if I be a good girl will you spank me?”

Morgan laughed mischievously. “We’ll see about that. Maybe if you ask nicely,” he said.

Without warning, he entered her hard and quick, unable to wait any longer. Bee cried out automatically at the feeling – everything from the speed, to the size of his cock, to his holding her down, to the angle that he entered her, made him go so deep that she swore she could already see stars. He didn’t start slow either; he was desperate and needy and didn’t have time for any of that, so he rocked into her hard and fast. She screamed out in pleasure over and over again, savouring the feeling. He was being a bit rougher with her than normal, but she loved every second of it. She wanted it. She had asked for it, and he had complied. He was doing exactly what she wanted him to do, and they had the trust in each other to do this.

The way he was holding her lower back down, keeping her in place, meant the angle was deep – and with the force he kept pounding into her with, she knew she wouldn’t be able to last long. But just as he complied – as best he could, he did slip up twice – to her rule of ‘no touching’, she knew she would have to comply to his rules now too. “Mr. Rielly,” she said between her screams and moans, “Mr. Rielly it’s so deep.”

“You like it when it’s deep like that, huh?” he asked.

“Your cock is so big and it always goes so deep,” she said, knowing it would stroke his ego. “Can you spank me, please?”

She heard Morgan huff out a laugh, barely missing a beat as he continued to fuck her. “No.”

“But Mr. Rielly--”

“No.”

“Please Mr. Rielly, I want to be spanked so bad.”

“I don’t think you’ve earned that yet,” he threw her own words back at her. She almost regretted the decision to use that language when she was teasing him – almost. But there was no way she could ever regret anything that brought her so much pleasure. “You have to beg, remember?”

Morgan could hear her whimper. “Pleeeease Mr. Rielly. Please spank me.”

She felt one of his hands leave the grip he had on her lower back and she prepared herself. Instead, she felt him grab her hair and tug her towards him, so her back was flush against his chest momentarily. His hand snaked around and went to her clit, and he bit down on the skin of her neck before moving up to her ear. “Beg.”

“Please Mr. Rielly,” she was practically on the verge of tears. “Please please please, I’m begging you to spank me.”

“If I spank you are you gonna cum?”

“No,” she answered automatically, shaking her head slightly. “Not until you tell me to.”

He smiled, a throaty laugh escaping him. “That’s right. That’s my good girl,” he cooed, pushing her back down so she was flush against the bed again. With one hand on her lower back holding her down, the other hand spanked her ass. She let out a cry of pleasure, and with another spank, another cry.

“Harder,” she mewled out

“Harder?”

“Fuck me harder, Mr. Rielly. Spank me harder.”

Her spanked her again, red marks already appearing on her ass from before. He rubbed the area gently before spanking it one more time. “You want to cum, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, not bothering to hide how close she was. “I want to cum so bad.”

“If I spank you again will you cum?” he asked. Bee nodded her head. “Then no.”

“No, please,” Bee cried out. “I can’t – I won’t--”

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” he practically growled out, holding her down again with both hands now.

Bee didn’t answer automatically this time. She was trying to regain composure, trying to regain whatever semblance of sanity she had left in her body. “Y-Yes…” she whispered, barely audible.

“Are you going to take more like a good girl?” Morgan asked, louder to insinuate how loud he wanted her to be.

“Yes,” she said aloud.

“Like my good girl?”

“Yes!” she screamed out. “Like your good girl. Always your good girl, Mr. Rielly.”

Morgan continued pounding into her for a while, even harder than before. Bee’s cries became louder, as did the sound of cock throbbing in and out of her hot core. With the prelude leading up to this, the dirty talk, the sound of Bee’s moans and cries, and the fact that he probably could have cum while sitting in that God forsaken chair if Bee had grinded down on him just one more time, he was surprised to have lasted this long anyway. He could feel his body getting flushed and hot and knew he was close.

“Are you ready for my cum, Briony?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Rielly,” her voice was coarse from all the noise she was making. “I’m always ready for your cum. Always.”

He spanked her again a few more times for good measure, getting some more desperate cries out of her, before tugging her hair one last time to bring her back against his chest. “You’ve been such a good girl,” he cooed as he gave her a sloppy kiss.

“I love it when it’s like this,” she managed to get out through hooded eyes and desperate whispers. “I love it when I’m your good girl. When you take me from behind. When you fuck me like I’ve never been fucked before.”

“You like me fucking you hard and fast?”

She nodded her head. “I love it so much Mr. Rielly.”

He snaked a hand around her body and began rubbing circles on her clit. “You ready to cum, Briony?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Please.”

“When I spank you I want you to cum,” he instructed her. “And I don’t want you to stop. Understood?”

“Yes. Yes yes yes yes,” she said in hushed whispers.

Bee waited a few moments, and when she didn’t feel the hard smack on her ass she whined. She waited for another few moments – and still nothing. She was desperate. She was going to kill him. She was going to cum any second. “Mr. Ri--”

Smack!

She cried out, loud, her orgasm pulsating through her like a tidal wave, her entire body shaking and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Morgan continued to pound in and out of her with his throbbing cock, while his hand continued to rub at her clit, giving her orgasm after orgasm, over stimulating her just how she liked it. After what felt like a million of them – a million different orgasms, a million different cries, a million different moans and desperate shouts of his name – she finally, finally, felt his hot cum pour into her, filling her up as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of her. She felt his body shake against hers, his own moans and desperate calls out of her name filling the air as they rode out their orgasms together, clinging on to one another.

Bee swore she could still feel an orgasm ride through her entire body as he pulled out, the both of them collapsing on the bed trying to catch their breath. Her core was still so hot and sensitive as she curled up in Morgan’s arms, both their bodies hot and glistening with sweat. She was surprised the lingerie made it through – that Morgan didn’t rip it off half way through or take it off with his teeth or something. She was glad it got this reaction out of him.

“Bumblebee…” she heard Morgan’s voice, barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else but you.”

She smiled, curling further into his body. “I wouldn’t have done that with anybody else either,” she responded, reaching down below their bodies to grab hold of his cock. “Thank you for indulging me. For giving me exactly what I wanted.”

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, feeling her put his softening cock at her core again, the heat still so comforting. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

***

Bee was a bit sad to leave Kelowna and the Okanagan area, after having experienced its beauty, great weather, and lovely people, but she had to remember she had Connor, Andy, and Shirley Rielly waiting for her on the other side, eagerly anticipating her presence in Vancouver for the second time that year. Earlier that morning, she and Morgan had checked out of Hester Creek Winery, where they had been staying for the past three nights, and loaded everything into their rental car for their five hour road trip to Vancouver. After a last minute stock up of the wine from the winery, and a very last minute stop at Tim Horton’s for some coffee and snacks to sustain themselves (like good Canadians) they were on their way, the GPS system directing them where to go.

“You tell me anytime you want to stop to take pictures,” Morgan said as they took the on-ramp onto the highway. “It’s going to be a pretty scenic route. Especially when we drive through the provincial park.”

“I will,” Bee smiled, stuffing a Timbit into her mouth before feeing Morgan one. “I’ll try not to stop too much. I don’t want this trip to take eight hours.”

“Nuh uh,” Morgan shook his head. “You just tell me whenever you want to stop. We can take ten hours. It doesn’t matter.”

“Your parents are expecting us for dinner.”

“We’ll call them and tell them there’s traffic,” he said, his mouth still full with the Timbit. He winked at Bee as she gave him one of her looks.

Morgan reached over the console and grabbed her thigh, exposed thanks to the pretty sundress she was wearing, squeezing it gently as the road opened before them. It was there for a while, as they continued to drive on the open road, occasionally squeezing and massaging her skin before it crept higher and higher, getting dangerously close to her core.

“Keep your eyes on the road, you perv,” Bee placed her hand above Morgan’s to stop it from going any higher. If it did, she knew he’d probably swerve off the road.

“I am keeping my eyes on the road,” he reasoned. “My mind, on the other hand, isn’t on the road.”

Bee snorted, shaking her head playfully. “You want to fuck me in this rental car, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She couldn’t help but snort. At least he was being honest. “Why’re you so horny all the time?” she giggled.

“You make me.”

“If you keep it up we’re gonna end up having ten kids.”

There was a silence between the two. It wasn’t awkward, or charged, or because either was tongue-tied and didn’t know what to say. It was just…a silence. A comfortable silence, the road of the car on the road filling the void, until Morgan spoke first. “We’re not having ten kids.”

Bee couldn’t help but smile. “No. Definitely not. I’m not doing that to my vagina. We’re not the Duggars.”

“Two or three is good,” he said.

Bee nodded her head in agreement. “Two or three. One of each. Whatever happens first.”

Morgan took his eyes off the road to look at her. She noticed his smile. How he was looking at her; like he’d just laid eyes on the image of perfection. “Yeah. You…you’ve thought about it, then?”

Bee nodded her head. If she thought about the wedding, and establishing a life together, there was no way she didn’t think about kids either. “Of course. You know I want kids.”

“I know. But like…”

“I want kids with you, if that was going to be your next question,” she said. “I mean, there’s no question. It’s you. I’m not having anybody else’s kids. I’m having your kids,” she stressed.

“Okay,” he said, unable to contain the smile on his face. “I uh…yeah. Okay.”

“Tongue tied, are we?”

“No,” he kept trying to contain his smile. “Not at all. Just glad you’ve thought about it too. That’s all.”

“I know…I know you’ve always initiated these conversations in the past,” she said, thinking out loud at this point. “Whether drunk or tipsy or not. But I think about this stuff do. I do love you more than I can describe with words. I just…I think because of my background, because what I’ve been through, I’m a bit less open about it. Because my mom never wanted to hear it when I was a young kid, and because I never really loved her later on growing up. But I do love you. And like…I want everything with you. A life. A house. Children. I may not vocalize it, but I do. And I don’t picture myself having all those things with anybody else. I only want it with you.”

Morgan flipped his hand so he could hold hers and bring it across to his lips so he could kiss it and hold it across his chest. “I only want it with you too,” he said, his lips rubbing against her hand. “I’ve only ever wanted it with you. And I want to give you all that.”

“I want to give it to you too. This is a relationship. A partnership. We can give each other these things,” Bee clarified.

“Yeah. You’re right. That’s what I meant,” he nodded his head again, correcting himself. “We can give each other these things. A life. A house. Children. But not for a while – children, anyway. We…we’re already building a life together.”

“We are.”

“Everything else will come in time,” Morgan said confidently. “I’m just…I know I’ve told you this before, but I thank my lucky stars every single day that it’s you in this life with me.”

Bee smiled again, unable to keep her eyes off of him. “And I thank my lucky stars you sent a mojito to my table.”

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neoduskcomics · 4 years

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Ranking All 10 Star Wars Movies

The final installment in the Skywalker Saga (as it is now retroactively being christened) is upon us, and so I’ve decided to do a bit of a retrospective on all the films leading us here.

The purpose of this personal ranking is not to put down any particular films or to invalidate anyone else’s opinions. In fact, I will be focusing largely on what I like about each movie, rather than what I think was wrong with it. I’ll still touch on criticisms of each film, but know that even if I don’t think they’re all objectively amazing films, I still like every single one of them, and have watched each one numerous times.

The fandom, as it always has been, is so weighed down with hatred and lashing out and segregation, that it overshadows the unabashed joy and love that many still hold for that galaxy far, far away. And so, I’d like to put that anger away for a second, and just talk about why each of these movies holds a special place in the Star Wars saga.

10. The Phantom Menace

Chronologically the first film in the series, and also the first on this list. I saw this movie when I was pretty little, and I have to say, it’s the first Star Wars film I ever saw that I actually enjoyed. When I was a kid, I never cared for the original trilogy. Those movies bored and, to be honest, kind of frightened me. But Phantom Menace was replete with colorful visuals, whacky humor and loads of CGI action. That appealed to me quite a lot.

Yes, in retrospect, the plot is contrived, the characters are incredibly bland and pacing is all over the place, but it was my gateway drug into the magic that the rest of the franchise had to offer. And I’m gonna say it -- Jar Jar Binks was probably half the reason the movie kept my attention for as long as it did. All the other characters were so stuffy and stoic, and all they talked about was an overly complicated plot of political intrigue; Jar Jar added some much needed humor and levity for my childhood self to stay interested. It’s heavily flawed for sure, but I can’t rag on this movie too much when I have it to thank for the love that I have for the series now. Besides, Darth Maul kicks ass, right?

9. Attack of the Clones

Is it controversial to rank this above The Phantom Menace? My reasoning is twofold: 1) The movie has an actual emotional throughline to follow, that of Anakin being frustrated with his feelings of fear, resentment and love; and 2) There’s a lot more action. The Phantom Menace was my first step into the shallow side of the Star Wars pool, but this movie is what got me to dive in headfirst.

Is the dialogue embarrassingly terrible? Yes. Is it 75% CGI fluff? Yes. And as a kid, I ate all that stuff up. Plus, honestly, the movie’s not all bad. People started liking Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan with this movie, as the charming, dry-humored, slightly exasperated mentor. We got a load of lightsaber fights, and chases through cityscapes and asteroid fields. There was a ton to think was cool about this movie. Sure, it’s still messy and awkward, and it’s loaded to the brim with outbursts of teenage angst, but this is the film that really got me to think lightsabers, starships and bounty hunters were just the most awesome things ever. You can bet I had a few specific items on my Christmas list that year.

8. Solo

I saw Solo a second time this year, and on a re-watch, I actually enjoyed it quite a lot more. It’s fun and frantically paced, there’s loads of Star Wars fanservice, and the lead actor actually does a pretty good impersonation of a young Han Solo. The supporting cast is pretty likable, too, and the dialogue is always snappy. The action sequences were exciting, and while the movie does go out of its way to try to answer every single question about Han-related trivia, I still think it’s fun to see how things unfolded.

Sure, the movie is pretty hollow when it comes to its themes. Han doesn’t get a very solid character arc in the movie, and we definitely don’t see a very cohesive transformation from relatively altruistic kid to completely self-centered nerf-herder -- and that’s a real shame. But honestly, as a Star Wars side story and blockbuster action film, I think it’s a pretty solid couple hours of entertainment. If you shrugged this movie off when it came out or weren’t impressed and haven’t seen it since, I say maybe give it another chance. You might still not like it, which is totally fair, but maybe tempered expectations and a slightly more lenient attitude will allow you to enjoy it a bit more this time around.

7. Rogue One

Now, as much as I enjoyed Solo as a relatively shallow but fun Star Wars action movie, it is not my favorite Star Wars movie of that brand. That honor goes solely to Rogue One. This movie is pure Star Wars fan service. You got X-wings, TIE fighters, stormtroopers, AT-STs, AT-ATs, star destroyers, new ships and infantry armor, and let’s not forget Darth Vader. That scene with him at the end of the film is one of my all-time favorite scenes in any Star Wars movie. I got chills watching that sequence. It was everything I’d ever wanted from a Darth Vader cameo.

Now, Rogue One might be almost nothing but action and fanservice -- most of the main cast of characters is not terribly interesting or memorable -- but that’s okay. This is a lot of people’s new favorite Star Wars movie, and I don’t think it’s hard to see why. It’s basically everything fans loved most about the prequels -- the spectacle, the new worlds, the new weapons, the new soldiers, while still trying to keep true to the spirit of the franchise, and making nods to its roots. The characters can be bland, and some of the fights drag on a bit, but it’s still a thrilling ride. Also, K-2SO is probably the funniest character in any Star Wars film.

6. The Last Jedi

This movie has some of the greatest, most powerful moments in the entire franchise. Rey’s relationship with Kylo Ren and their confrontations with Luke were an incredible emotional foundation to the story. Many of the visuals were dazzling, and not all but many of the jokes landed pretty well. Luke was provided with a realistic and interesting character arc that gave room for actual growth and depth and struggle -- not simply making him another wise old Jedi Master with a padawan who turned to the dark.

This movie took a lot of risks, and not all of them panned out for sure. I disagree with a lot of the narrative choices in this film, especially when it comes to how Kylo Ren and Rey’s relationship ends up by the end of the movie, and what they did with Poe and Finn. However, I cannot understate how great I think other elements of the story were. This is the movie that made me actually start to feel like Rey was a more fleshed-out character, and it made Kylo Ren my new favorite character in the sequel trilogy (also I really like the fight with the praetorian guards, which I guess is a controversial opinion?). While the movie is deeply flawed, it also has a lot in it that is deeply good, and that is definitely worth something.

5. Return of the Jedi

It was very close for me between this movie and The Last Jedi, but I settled on placing episode 6 higher because, to me, it just presents a more elegant narrative with a more cathartic resolution. Return of the Jedi gives us a strong and satisfying conclusion to Luke’s story, and is probably full of more heart and love than any other installment in the series, showcasing bonds between Han and Leia, Leia and Luke, and a reforged bond between Luke and his father. The team is reunited, and it feels so good.

That being said, the movie does have its share of flaws, many of which are in common with The Last Jedi. A lot of the movie feels like needless padding and sort of wasted screentime for the main characters, aside from Luke, who didn’t get much of a meaningful role in the story. However, I feel that it’s counterbalanced by the fact that this film also has some of the most powerful drama in the series. Luke’s confrontation of Vader and the Emperor is wonderfully tense and exciting, and it comes to a stirring conclusion. Plus, Han, Leia, Chewie, C-3PO and R2-D2 are all still their lovable selves, bantering away and getting in way over their heads. It’s kind of hard to not find the film charming. All in all, a great way to wrap up an iconic trilogy.

4. Revenge of the Sith

I remember when this film came out, some critics even went so far as to say it was “better than the original trilogy.” While that’s certainly up for the fans to debate, I do think this movie demonstrated a sense of clarity that was lacking in either of the other prequels. It’s a story all about one thing -- Anakin wants to stop his wife from dying a certain death, and will do whatever it takes to make that happen. The resulting story is filled with incredibly potent pain, fear, anxiety, suffering and darkness, as Anakin fights and eventually gives into temptation.

Okay, yeah, the dialogue is still mostly terrible, and the acting can still feel forced and awkward, but I think if you’re able to look past that, you’ll see what it easily the strongest narrative in the prequel trilogy. It also has a lot of things that the other two prequels were missing: humor (the entire beginning sequence is a fun and largely comical ride not found in the other prequels), memorably dramatic scenes (“Did you ever hear of the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise?”) and the wickedly over-the-top Emperor finally taking the spotlight with his cackling and pontificating. It may not be the most gracefully crafted movie in the series, but it does have one of the most powerful stories to tell, and I think that’s what ultimately shines through.

3. The Force Awakens

I love this movie. The action, the effects, the characters, the humor -- it is a cavalcade of blockbuster science-fantasy wonder. Abrams did an outstanding job retooling the original trilogy to suit a modern audience, with new, creative takes on the faceless, nameless stormtrooper, a Darth Vader stand-in who knows he’s a stand-in and hates it, and a burgeoning hero doesn’t run toward adventure but away from it. There is an energy, a sort of vitality, to this film that I don’t think you can find in any other installment in the series. It’s dazzling, powerful and full of spirit.

And yes, it has its own fair share of flaws. The political situation is weirdly under-explained, the movie heavily relies on the original films as a template for the plot’s structure, and Rey could’ve used more coherent development as the protagonist of the film. However, I wholly and heartily believe that the movie more than makes up for all of that with its unique and charming cast of original characters. I loved Poe Dameron, Kylo Ren, Finn, and the returning Han and Chewie in this story. They all did wonderful performances with snappy dialogue, great performances and thrilling fights. It would’ve been great if the studio had tried to stray from the norm more, sure, but The Force Awakens, in my eyes, is still an exhilarating, warm and entrancing entryway into the territory of a new era for the franchise.

2. A New Hope

This one was tough to place. If I’m being completely honest, I think I probably actually like The Force Awakens more as a film, but it just doesn’t sit right with me to not give priority to the original. And I think credit should be given where credit is due: this movie, for better or worse, revolutionized cinema. It’s the movie that started it all, defying all odds and expectations. It’s the ideal archetype of the hero’s journey; a boy from humble beginnings meets with an old mentor who shows him a much bigger, brighter, and scarier world that he must face for the good of the world he lives in. Along the way, we meet some of the most iconic and memorable characters in the history of film -- Han Solo, Princess Leia, C-3PO, R2-D2 and the ever-lovable Darth Vader.

Now, has this movie been overly mythologized? Yes. Has it in many respects aged poorly? Sure. It totally has. The dialogue can be goofy, the action can look hokey and the pacing can feel terribly slow. But a lot of people will throw statements around like “It’s only famous because it was the first” when looking at movies like the original Star Wars, or the characters contained within. But I think that line of reasoning is misguided. Cheesy sci-fi features, space operas, action movies, roguish characters, princesses and humble heroes were not invented by Star Wars or George Lucas, just as people with superhuman abilities were not pioneered by the creators of Superman. And yet, this movie stood out in all of moviemaking history, proving that it had accomplished what no film like it had before. It is not a beloved film simply because it was the first. It’s the first because it was beloved.

Honorable Mention: The Clone Wars

Not the movie, the series (because the movie was basically just the pilot to the series that honestly shouldn’t have been shown in theaters). It doesn’t technically qualify for this list, but I just have to mention it (honorably). This series took a look at the prequels, for all their flaws, and said “I can make people like this era of Star Wars.” And you know what? They succeeded. The versions of Obi-Wan, Anakin and the many clone troopers featured in this series are now often the versions people think of when remembering the Clone Wars era of the saga. It was a rollercoaster of a series, with surprisingly dark and dramatic stories, as well as shockingly good action and visuals.

Sure, there were a lot of subpar episodes, but those aren’t what people remember. People remember a version of Anakin that made him a likeable hero, a new Jedi padawan for the audience to identify with, new stories that deepened and expanded upon the lore of the universe, and some really cool warfare that honestly blows a lot of what we saw in the actual prequel films out of the water. If you haven’t seen it yet, get a free trial of Disney + and start binging.

1. The Empire Strikes Back

Okay, okay, yeah, we all saw this coming. Not exactly an original opinion, is it? Still, I can’t deny that I solidly believe The Empire Strikes Back to be the best-made Star Wars film. It may not have the razzle-dazzle of the prequels or the sequels, and it may not have the satisfactory finality of Revenge of the Sith or Return of the Jedi. But what this film does have is care. It’s a movie that feels like it was carefully crafted from top to bottom, with every scene, every narrative throughline, every theme and every line of dialogue.

This is where we got “Do, or do not. There is no try.” This is where we got “I am your father.” This is where we got “I love you/I know.” This is where Vader really cemented himself as the end-all-be-all big bad of the Star Wars galaxy. This is where Han and Leia became the cinematic couple of a lifetime. This is where we really learned about the Force, the Jedi and what sorts of trials Luke would have to face were he to take on that legacy. It’s a magical film, full of wonder, hope, darkness, tragedy and love.

I won’t say it’s a perfect Star Wars movie, because it’s not. No Star Wars movie is. But that’s the beauty of the franchise. Everyone values something different about Star Wars. Everyone has their own favorite movie or series or book or comic or even theme park ride. It’s a phenomenon that spans generations, each one looking back fondly on the era that came before. There were people who grew up on the original trilogy, and now we have people who grew up on the prequels. And in just a few short decades, we’ll have people who grew up with BB-8, Kylo Ren and Rey, and that, to me, is just fantastic.

I know many of you have already written off Star Wars, or at least the new movies, but I am both nervous and excited to see where this all goes in seven days. And I know that there are many of you out there still celebrating Star Wars, holding it dear to your hearts, and not forgetting the feeling it gave you whenever you first fell in love with the franchise. I hope that feeling stays with us, and that it cuts through all the hatred and shouting and derision.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to watch today’s episode of The Mandalorian.

#star wars #ranking

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aidanchaser · 4 years

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Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince: Everyone Lives AU

Table of Contents beta’d by @ageofzero, @magic713m, @ccboomer, @aubsenroute, @somebodyswatson

Chapter Twenty-Four Sectumsempra

Dear Cedric,

It’s nearly sunrise, but I figured that you wouldn’t want me to wait.

I got the memory from Slughorn and it’s so much worse than we thought.

There are six horcruxes. Or there were. Dumbledore and I have destroyed three already.

Of the ones left, one is Helga Hufflepuff’s cup, another is his snake Nagini. Dumbledore thinks the last one would be an artefact that once belonged to either Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw.

Dumbledore doesn’t have any leads on where Hufflepuff’s cup might be, nor what the artefact belonging to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw might be, but he’s looking. He said if he finds a helpful lead, he’ll let me go with him to find the Horcrux! The trouble is that Voldemort’s taken extra care to hide them. I don’t know what exactly Regulus Black said to Voldemort in the graveyard, but it was something about telling Voldemort that his secret wasn’t as safe as he’d thought it was. Dumbledore said he was lucky to retrieve the ring before Voldemort could check on it and move it. Of course Voldemort keeps the snake close to him, but Dumbledore hasn’t been able to find any leads on the last two, and he thinks that’s because Vodlemort has moved them recently.

I was worried that Voldemort might create another Horcrux, if he knows that Regulus has gone after one already, but Dumbledore thinks he would not be willing to stretch his soul any further than seven pieces. His conversation with Slughorn showed some trepidation at the sustainability of even that much. He’s just going to be overly cautious with the last ones — at least, that’s what Dumbledore said.

I wish I had better news for you, but halfway done isn’t exactly bad news, I suppose.

— Harry

—————————— ✶✶✶ ——————————

Harry told Ron, Hermione, and Neville everything about his lesson with Dumbledore during their Charms lesson that morning. He kept having to pause to yawn, but this did not reduce the impact of his story in the least. Ron, Hermione, and Neville all stared at him with wide eyes when he told them how he had destroyed the locket.

Neville’s jaw even hung open. “Harry that’s — that’s horrifying.”

Ron snorted. “Didn’t sound nearly as bad as the diary. But blimey, it must’ve been nerve-wracking to hear that thing talk.”

“It is impressive, Harry,” said Hermione. She glanced over to Flitwick, who was helping a very sour-faced Dean attempt to turn his vinegar to wine. “Do you think that Flitwick would know what the Ravenclaw artefact might be?”

“I’ve already wheedled one secret out of a professor, I don’t know how I’ll do two.” Harry sighed and stifled another yawn.

“Now’s your chance to butter him up,” Hermione said. “He’s coming this way.”

While Muffliato prevented them from being overheard by would-be eavesdroppers, it did not stop their professor from interrupting their conversation to check their progress.

“Now, now, boys,” Flitwick said, for Hermione’s vinegar was a deep shade of crimson, and the boys had not, so it appeared, even attempted the Charm. “A little less talk, a little more action. Let me see you try.”

All three pointed their wands and concentrated, for nonverbal spells were a requirement in all classes now. Neville’s vinegar remained still and unchanged. Harry’s glass flask became coated with frost and cracked as the vinegar inside turned to ice and expanded. Ron’s simply exploded.

Flitwick plucked a shard of glass from his hat and examined it with a frown. “Yes, boys, I think extra practice is in order.”

Ron brushed some of the glass from Hermione’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

Before Hermione could even thank him, or show him how to clean the mess up with his wand, Lavender Brown burst into tears. Harry was grateful, for her sake, that the bell rang and she was able to leave in a rush.

“So you two have ended things, then,” Harry asked, with his best attempt at casual conversation rather than eager excitement.

“Yeah, last night.” Ron put his things into his bag. “She didn’t know we’d been with you and Neville at dinner, and I think it was just the final thing, you know?”

“Ah — well, you don’t mind that it’s over, do you?”

“No. It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn’t have to end it.”

Harry was relieved. He did not know what he would have done if he’d had to put up with another bitter and frustrated Ron for the rest of the year.

“It was a bad night for romance all around,” Hermione said as they left Charms class. “Ginny and Dean split up, too.”

Harry looked up at the ceiling, and did his best to appear disinterested. “Oh? How come?”

“It was sort of silly,” said Neville. “It was just after you’d left — she got angry with him for trying to touch her when she was upset. I thought it was just another of their fights at first, but she went up to the common room without talking to anyone. I think they’re done for good this time.”

“Of course, this puts you in a bit of a dilemma, Harry,” Hermione said, and Harry could hear the smile on her face.

He refused to look at her. “What sort of dilemma?”

“Your Quidditch team, of course.”

Harry belatedly recalled his conversation with Ginny a few weeks ago, when he had asked about her most recent fight with Dean Thomas. He had blamed his curiosity on maintaining the good relationship his Chasers had with each other, and she had been annoyed by that. He wondered why she had been annoyed, and if either Ginny or Dean were going to quit Quidditch. He had no desire to sit through a practice where Ginny and Dean sniped at each other, but he also had no desire to find a new Quidditch player when their last replacement had gone so poorly.

Fortunately, Harry’s Quidditch dilemma was short-lived. When he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville arrived in the common room, they found a group of seventh years clustered around Katie Bell.

“Katie!” Hermione said. “You’re back! Are you okay?”

Katie grinned at them as they joined the small crowd surrounding her. “I’m really well! They let me out of St Mungo’s yesterday. I spent some time at home with Mum and Dad and then came back here this morning. Leanne was just telling me about McLaggen and the last match, Harry…”

Harry grimaced. “Yeah, well, now that you’re back and Ron’s fit, we’ll have a decent chance of thrashing Ravenclaw, which means we could still be in the running for the Cup.” But Quidditch was currently the furthest thing from Harry’s mind. As the seventh-years hurriedly gathered their things and rushed to Transfiguration, he asked, as quietly as he could manage, “Listen, Katie — that necklace… Can you remember who gave it to you?”

She shook her head. “No. Everyone’s been asking me, but I haven’t got a clue. The last thing I remember was walking into the ladies’ room at the Three Broomsticks.”

“You definitely went into the bathroom, then?” said Hermione.

“Well I know I pushed open the door, so I suppose whoever Imperiused me was standing just behind it. After that, my memory’s a blank until about two weeks ago in St Mungo’s. Listen, I’d better go, I wouldn’t put it past McGonagall to give me lines even if it is my first day back…”

Katie hurried to follow her friends to Transfiguration, and Harry waited for Hermione to give her opinion on things. He did not have to wait long.

“So it couldn’t have been Malfoy who cursed her,” Hermione said as she set her bag down at one of the tables. “He would have been caught sneaking into the ladies’ bathroom.”

“Besides, Regulus mentioned that Malfoy was in detention that day,” said Ron. He sat on the window sill and did not, like Hermione, proceed to get out homework. Harry and Ron did as little work during free periods as they could manage. Whenever Hermione criticised this strategy, Ron told her they were called free periods for a reason.

“I don’t know what that necklace has to do with the Room of Requirement,” said Neville. “It’s not going to make cursed objects for you, or poisons. I think there’s something else going on with Malfoy,” said Neville. “And I think if Dumbledore says you shouldn’t worry about it, you should listen to Dumbledore.”

Harry, as sensible as he found Neville’s advice, was not interested in it. “I think I’m going to have another go at the Room of Requirement with the help of Felix.”

“That would be a complete waste of potion,” said Hermione. She had already pulled a small stack of books out from her bag and was thumbing through Spellman’s Syllabary. “Luck can only get you so far, Harry. The situation with Slughorn was different; you always had the ability to persuade him, you just needed to tweak the circumstances a bit. Luck isn’t enough to get you through a powerful enchantment, though. Don’t go wasting the rest of that potion! You might need it if you’re going to help Dumbledore find those last two…”

Harry did not think another swig of Felix would be a waste, not entirely. His first run at it had gotten him the memory from Slughorn and broken up Lavender and Ron as well as Dean and Ginny. If he wanted it to find out what Draco was up to, and to find an opportune moment to ask out Ginny, why couldn’t he get both out of another dose? And if he only managed one of the two, that wasn’t a total waste.

“Couldn’t we make some more?” suggested Ron. “It’d be great to have a stock of it.”

Harry flipped through Advanced Potion-Making. It took him a while to decipher Snape’s notes. “Blimey, it’s seriously complicated. And it takes six months to stew.”

“If it was easy,” said Neville, “everyone would do it.”

While Ron goaded Neville into a game of table-Quidditch that involved shooting scraps of parchment between the opponent’s fingers and Hermione continued working on her Ancient Runes homework, Harry browsed through Snape’s notes in search of something that would help him uncover what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. The list of Everlasting Elixirs, while interesting, was not promising. There was Sectumsempra, one of Snape’s hand-written jinxes that Harry hadn’t been able to test on Crabbe or Goyle yet. He’d been considering trying it on McLaggen, but maybe it would prove more helpful if tested on Malfoy.

Harry spent some time puzzling over Golpalott’s Third Law. Antidotes might not help him uncover what Malfoy was up to, but the knowledge might prove useful if someone else was poisoned the way that Ron had been poisoned. Unfortunately, it was no more decipherable now than it had been in Slughorn’s dungeons four months ago. He hoped that he would remember to review it with his mother that summer. She must be good at antidotes; he had a vague recollection of her brewing an antidote for Regulus Black after he had been rescued from the graveyard. Though he supposed it was entirely possible that they had fabricated that story, because that was before his parents had been entirely honest with him about the war and the prophecy.

A pang of guilt struck his stomach as sharply as if he had been hit with a Bludger. Was keeping these lessons with Dumbledore secret from his parents any better than what his parents had done with the prophecy? Sure, Dumbledore had asked him to be discreet, but Dumbledore was also the one who had asked his parents to keep the prophecy a secret. When they had finally explained the prophecy to Harry, his disappointment in them had not been mollified just because Dumbledore was involved. He did not think his parents would find the excuse any more acceptable than Harry had.

His parents trusted Dumbledore, but he remembered what his mother had said the night she had shared the prophecy. We never wanted anyone to look at you like a weapon to be used against Voldemort. Harry had a feeling that they would see Dumbledore’s lessons as exactly that — training Harry into a weapon against Voldemort. And on the surface, he knew that they were right. He knew that these lessons could be taught to anyone in the Order, in theory. Cedric or Regulus were as capable of hunting Horcruxes as Harry was, if not better equipped. But Dumbledore had chosen Harry, because Harry was The Chosen One, and James and Lily would not be pleased about it.

Harry, however, was as grateful for these lessons as he was for the lessons that he had received that summer in Defense and Potions. He was going to fight Voldemort, prophecy or not, and he was glad to be more prepared. That was the part he did not think that his parents would understand.

Though Harry worried over telling his parents about his lessons with Dumbledore — for he would have to share them eventually — he knew that his parents would be happy if they learned that he had to set aside these concerns over his grand destiny in favour of two much more immediate and much more normal concerns: Quidditch and girls.

The match against Ravenclaw was in two short weeks. If Gryffindor won by three hundred points, they would take the Quidditch Cup. If they won by less than three hundred, they would take second to Ravenclaw. If they lost by one hundred, they would fall into third behind Hufflepuff, and if they lost by more than that, they would take fourth. Harry could not let his first year as captain end in such a sound defeat. Gryffindor had not taken fourth in two hundred years.

That all meant that Harry had, for the third time that year, just a few practice sessions left to get a new Quidditch team into shape.

Telling Dean that he was no longer needed with Katie’s return had been easy enough. Dean hadn’t been thrilled about it, but Harry certainly was. And if he had any worries about Ginny being a worse player after her breakup with Dean, they were forgotten after just one practice.

Harry was continually impressed with Ginny’s ability to adapt to any situation in Quidditch. She had taken over for him as Seeker when Umbridge had banned him, despite preferring to play as a Chaser. She had worked well with Demelza, Katie, and Dean. Even when she and Ron had been bickering with each other, her performance had not suffered. Harry didn’t know why he had ever doubted her.

The trouble was, though, that Harry’s play suffered. He found Ginny’s skill on a broom and unwavering passion for Quidditch terribly attractive. It did not help that she was constantly making jokes during practice and mimicking Ron’s anxious way of bouncing around the goal posts. It gave Harry too many excuses to look at her, which was dangerous for two reasons: one, he had not yet figured out how to tell Ron that he liked Ginny and two, there were Bludgers in play that he was supposed to be dodging.

After practices, Harry wished for just a minute alone with Ginny. He thought that if he could have one minute with her, he could at least ask if she was at all interested in him. If she said no, it would hurt, but it would solve his problem with Ron. And if she said yes… well, they could figure out a way to tell Ron together.

But especially now that Ron was no longer seeing Lavender, Ron was constantly at Harry’s side. They had the same class schedule and practice schedule. They had the same homework. If Harry hurried to catch up with Ginny on days she rushed out, Ron hurried after him. If Harry lingered after practice on days Ginny was slow to leave the pitch, Ron waited with him. He could not seem to catch Ginny alone.

A swig of Felix was looking more tempting by the day.

Then, the week of the match, Ron’s nerves started to set in. While this did not bode well for his performance in the championship match, it did provide Harry with the opportunity he had been waiting for.

Ron, Ginny, and Harry were headed back to the castle together. Katie had gone on ahead; she always rushed out of practice to catch up on homework since she had missed so much of the term. Demelza, Coote, and Peakes had also hurried on ahead; they had Astronomy in a few hours and Harry gathered that none of them had completed the homework. And then, by a stroke of luck not induced by any potion, Ron, overcome with anxiety of the approaching championship game, clutched his stomach, muttered something about feeling ill, and hurried up the steps of the castle.

Harry, having arrived at the very moment he had been waiting for, instinctively slowed his pace. His mouth went dry and he thought he might need to run after Ron in a moment if he didn’t hurry to act. He had missed out on too much by waiting, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He forced them out with no more grace than he had with Cedric just months ago.

“Would you — I mean — if you want — you know?”

Ginny paused on the steps up to the castle doors, broom still over her shoulder. “What was all that?”

There was no moonlight to help him read her face, only the torches burning beside the castle doors illuminating her red hair, and a breeze that carried the scent of sweat and the Quidditch pitch over the path. It was not nearly as pleasant as her jasmine shampoo, but Harry was undeterred.

“I meant — would you want to go out sometime?”

The sharp arch of her eyebrow was little more than a shift in shadows, but it made Harry’s heart stutter with nerves nonetheless.

“Go out where?” she asked.

He was suddenly less fond of her sense of humour than he had been on the Quidditch pitch. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

She paused. The pause was interminable for Harry. He regretted taking the opportunity already, and wondered if he wouldn’t have liked to have done this with Felix, if only so he could be confident about the outcome.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your Quidditch team?” she asked.

He flinched, and knew he deserved the barb. “Er — only a little.”

It was hard to tell, but he thought she was grinning. “Then we’d better not start anything until after the championship match.”

Harry wasn’t sure if that was a yes or a no. “So… you do —”

“If we win,” she said suddenly. “If we win the Cup, I’ll go out with you.”

“Why…?”

“Because I’m winning that Cup, Potter, so you better play the best damn Quidditch game of your life if you want to go out with me.”

It helped that he knew she was smiling as she strode into the castle.

As the week wore on, Harry’s nerves were not much better than Ron’s. He wasn’t dashing to the bathroom between classes to throw up, but it was hard to sit still at mealtimes and continue laughing at Ginny’s jokes like nothing had changed. Ron, at least, was too nervous to notice, but Hermione and Neville found his anxiety odd. He hadn’t been this nervous for a match since his first year.

Ginny, for her part, was no different. If anything she was more energetic than usual. She laughed louder, smiled wider, and seemed more comfortable than ever to reach across Harry for the pumpkin juice, though there was already a full pitcher next to her. It did not help Harry’s nerves.

Though it wasn’t a relaxing hobby by any means, the only thing Harry that had to focus on that didn’t make his heart rate double was his attempt to uncover what Malfoy was up to in the Room of Requirement. Though he had not made any progress over the past month, Harry found himself walking past the seventh floor corridor several times a day.

Ron, Neville, and Hermione had stopped complaining whenever he did this, and instead waited at the end of the corridor, silent but exasperated, while he paced back and forth three times.

Until one morning, Harry found himself alone in the seventh floor corridor. Neville had promised Professor Sprout that he would help her set up a lesson for the third years, Hermione had rushed to Professor Vector’s office to ask about a question on her Arithmancy homework, and Ron had disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to make more room for his breakfast.

Harry paced the corridor, almost out of habit, and pulled out the Marauder’s Map. He did not see Malfoy on the map, and thought he would have to once again resign himself to the unfortunate fact that Malfoy was already in the Room of Requirement, and Harry would be unable to affect any change on it.

And then he found it. He had missed it before, because Regulus Black’s name was circling Malfoy’s marker, sometimes obscuring it entirely. Harry stared at the two names in the boys’ bathroom, just one floor below him and tried to make sense of their strange third companion; Moaning Myrtle.

Harry distantly recalled a conversation that he and Ron had had with Moaning Myrtle months ago. She had said something about a crying boy and a cat — he felt like an idiot for not putting it together.

As Harry raced to the floor below, he wondered how much Malfoy had confided in Myrtle. He wondered, briefly, if Regulus had overheard things that he wasn’t sharing with Dumbledore, but he dashed that thought as he approached the bathroom door. He had decided to trust Regulus and Snape; it would not do to doubt them now.

Harry pressed his ear against the door, but heard nothing. Carefully, quietly, ever so slightly, Harry pushed the door open. He could see Malfoy, bent over the sink. His knuckles were as white as his hair where they gripped the edge of the basin. A sleek black cat slipped between his ankles, then flinched as Moaning Myrtle spoke.

“Don’t,” she said in a high voice that made Harry glad that he did not have the sensitive ears of a cat. “Don’t… Tell me what’s wrong. I can help you.” Though Myrtle could not touch Malfoy, she hovered close, and patted the space near his shoulder.

“No one can help me.” Malfoy’s voice trembled as he spoke, and it was full of utter misery and desperation. “I can’t do it.” His arms shook as his grip on the sink tightened. “I can’t… It won’t work… and unless I do it soon —” He paused to swallow either a gasp for air or a sob. “— he says he’ll kill me.”

That empathy that Harry had nearly felt two weeks ago resurfaced. He had been asserting all year that Voldemort had asked something of Draco Malfoy, and had been told by so many that Malfoy was too young, that Voldemort would never trust him with something like that. Harry had never truly considered the consequences of someone as young as Draco being given a task by someone as powerful as Voldemort.

But Harry did not have much time to feel empathetic. Draco lifted his head, and Harry only had long enough to see the streaks left by tears before their eyes made contact in the bathroom mirror.

Harry grabbed his wand and ducked as Draco threw a curse at him. The lamp on the wall shattered and the glass rained down over Harry. He remembered their most recent duel, when Malfoy had insulted his mother. Harry had shattered a window with a stray Blasting Curse. He quickly determined that in a small environment like this, he ought to use much more controlled spells, lest something ricochet back to him.

He pointed his wand and thought Levicorpus, but it bounced off of Malfoy’s Shield Charm.

“No!” Myrtle shrieked, and Harry saw Regulus Black jump nearly a foot into the air as she did. “No! Stop it!”

Malfoy’s next hex hit the bin behind Harry, which sent scraps of paper fluttering around Harry. Harry retaliated with a Leg-Locker Curse, but Malfoy dodged this, and instead the cistern behind him cracked, and a shower of water poured over the two of them and drenched the floor. Harry slipped on a wet paper, just catching sight of a black blur darting for the door.

“Cruci — ”

“Sectumsempra!” Harry, though prone, waved his wand in an arc, and was shocked to watch blood appear as if he had run the Sword of Godric Gryffindor across Malfoy’s chest and face.

Malfoy collapsed into the growing pool of water, gasping, as Myrtle shrieked.

“No —” Harry hurried towards Malfoy, cursing as he slipped on the flooded tile once more. He had not expected this curse to be so violent, had not imagined Snape would have invented something so deadly.

Harry half-slipped, half-crawled to Malfoy’s side. Malfoy was drenched in blood, hands frantically grabbing at his chest, trying in vain to stem the bleeding.

Harry had not thought that the experience of healing Remus’s wounds after a full moon would have come in handy in this way, but he reacted quickly, even as Moaning Myrtle shrieked, “Murder!” above him and Malfoy’s blood pooled around him and soaked into his robes.

With one hand, he grabbed Malfoy’s hands and pulled them away from the wound and with the other, traced his wand over the wound he had inflicted. It was hard to focus on the incantation and not on the incredible guilt at what he had done, and the anger towards Snape that was spreading inside him as steadily as the blood spread across the bathroom floor. Or perhaps it was all the same old anger and mistrust he had always felt; it had just been locked away this year behind Harry’s insistence that Snape had to be trusted, behind Harry’s fear of repeating the same mistake Sirius had made during the first war.

As the bleeding slowed, Harry’s own guilt abated. Then he knitted the wounds together, remembering Sirius’s advice — “It’s just a Mending Charm, but the stuff you’re mending’s a lot more complicated. Keep focused on the mending part, not the blood part, and don’t get frustrated if it takes longer than you think.” — and as Harry recited the third incantation, there was a splash behind him. He turned to see Snape standing in the doorway with a black cat at his heels.

Though Malfoy was no longer injured, Harry and Malfoy were each soaked in blood, and the floor around them was decorated in splashes of red as the blood and water refused to mix. There was no covering up what Harry had just done.

“Who is hurt?” Snape asked, somehow making an inquiry that should have sounded worried sound caustic instead.

Harry helped Malfoy stand and used a cracked sink to keep his own balance. “Malfoy, sir. I did my best, but Madam Pomfrey should —”

Snape moved swiftly. His wand pulsed with a blue light momentarily, but he did not seem to find anything more to heal. He took Malfoy from Harry and said, “Wait here until I return.”

Harry did not even consider disobeying, even as Snape helped Malfoy to the hospital wing and Regulus followed. He looked around at the ruined bathroom and blooms of blood, stark against the white tile.

Guilt and fury raged in him, equally matched. He felt horrible for what he had done to Malfoy. He had nearly killed Malfoy because he had used a spell that he did not understand, because he had been uncontrolled with his wand, and because he had trusted Snape. He had chosen, even when Snape insulted Tonks and Remus, belittled him in class, and struggled to keep Dumbledore’s trust, to keep trusting Snape. He had chosen to believe that Snape loved Lily, and that that love was enough to trust Snape.

He tried to convince himself that this spell had been written long ago, when Snape was his own age, but hadn’t Snape loved Lily then, too? Hadn’t Snape loved Lily when he’d joined the Death Eaters? And hadn’t he loved Lily even when he had told Voldemort about a prophecy involving a baby due in July? Surely he could have guessed it could mean Lily even before he had repeated it to Voldemort. It seemed to Harry that the only good Snape’s love had done was get his parents into Dumbledore’s protection during the war. And even then, it wasn’t Snape that had gone to Godric’s Hollow to die for Lily. It was Peter who had died for James.

Snape returned minutes later, and it wasn’t until he told Moaning Myrtle to leave that Harry realised she had been shrieking and wailing the entire time. As she disappeared into the burst pipes, Harry looked for Regulus, but did not see a cat on Snape’s heels.

The only sound left, then, was the steady stream of water from the pipes. Harry could not bring himself to meet Snape’s gaze, afraid both his guilt and anger would consume him if he did. It was hard enough just to stand in Snape’s presence.

“I didn’t mean —” Harry started, eyes still on the blood at his feet. He swallowed down the guilt and tried to keep his voice even. “I didn’t know what that spell would do.”

“Apparently I underestimated you, Potter,” said Snape. “Who would have thought you knew such Dark magic? Who taught you that spell?”

The anger flared once more, and Harry bit back what he wanted to say — that Snape had taught him the spell. But he could not risk Snape finding out about his Potions book. His reputation with Slughorn would be ruined.

“Regulus Black,” Harry said.

“You’re a liar.”

“So are you.” Even Harry winced as it left his lips, knowing that it had not been the right answer.

“Potter. Look at me.”

Harry knew what was coming as certainly as he knew that he could not disobey. He met Snape’s eyes, but try as he might to keep his mind empty, he was consumed by the familiar sensation of his surroundings melting. His guilt and anger were impossible to tamp down, and the object at the center of it all — The Half-Blood Prince’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making — breached the surface of his thoughts.

“Bring me your schoolbag,” said Snape softly, “and all of your schoolbooks. All of them. Bring them to me here. Now!”

Harry slipped and slid his way out of the bathroom. He glanced down the corridor for any sign of Regulus, but he imagined that sleek black cat was curled up by Draco Malfoy. Harry decided that he did not have time to worry about Regulus nor Malfoy. If he wanted to hide that book from Snape he had to act fast. He broke into a run.

Most of the students were down at breakfast, but the few Ravenclaws and Gryffindors who were slow to get started with their day stared openly as Harry passed them. He must have been a sight, soaking wet and covered in blood, but he ignored them and hurried through the common room and up to the dormitory.

Ron was in the doorway, just on his way down, when Harry pushed past him.

“Where’ve you — Why are you wet — Is that blood, Harry?”

Harry did not have time to answer any of these questions. “I need your Potions book — quick!” He threw his Transfiguration book into his bag, ignoring the red fingerprints he left on its binding.

“But what about yours…”

“I’ll explain later! Quickly!”

Ron dug through his books and tossed Harry his copy of Advanced Potion-Making. Harry shoved it in with the others, snatched his own copy off his bedside table, and hurried out of the dormitory. But instead of heading straight to the boy’s bathroom, he took a detour past the Room of Requirement. It would be empty, certainly, with Malfoy down in the hospital wing.

Harry paced in front of the wall, thinking, I need a place to hide my book… I need a place to hide my book… I need a place to hide my book. After three passes, the wall gave way to a small, unremarkable wooden door, nothing like the large doors that had lead to their secret Defense class, but Harry did not have time to consider how the Room of Requirement decided what sort of door it would create. He pushed his way inside.

Harry was not sure what he had expected, but it had not been this. Thousands of items, tossed into piles and vague rows, filled a room larger than Harry could see the end of. It was like being back in the Department of Mysteries, but if the Department of Mysteries had a room dedicated to junk instead of prophecies. There were broken pieces of furniture, stacks of books, even a pile of old brooms. He caught sight of some familiar Weasley Wizard Wheezes products, no doubt tossed into a closet that had suddenly appeared in an attempt to hide them from Filch. All manner of banned objects, potions, hats and cloaks, and even some jewelry littered the room. Harry was certain that he could spend hours pouring over the objects inside.

But he didn’t have hours. Harry hurried up an aisle, looking for something clear, unique, something that could mark his hiding spot, so that he could retrieve this book. He had no fondness for Snape’s notes and curses any longer, but he thought he might need it to finish Potions this year with top marks.

He ran past a taxidermied troll and a Vanishing Cabinet and found a cupboard that appeared to have been splashed with acid. Some of the wood facing was eaten away and one of the knobs disfigured. He opened it and found a cage stuffed with a skeleton. Harry didn’t have time to wonder what the five-legged thing had been. He stuffed the book behind the cage and closed the cupboard. He looked around for another way to mark this spot so he could find it again. He did not have much time…

He grabbed the bust of some old warlock, heaved it on top of the cupboard, then snatched a dusty wig and a tarnished tiara from the mess and perched it all on the warlock’s head. Satisfied that he would remember that absurdity, Harry bolted back to the corridor. His schoolbag jostled against his hip as he ran, leaving a rather painful bruise, but Harry ignored it. He focused, instead, on trying not to pant as he opened the bathroom door.

Snape was still standing in the pool of water, though it appeared that he had Vanished the blood. Harry wondered if Snape had left the floor wet just to watch him slip across it to hand his bag over.

As Snape went through Harry’s bag, turning over each book with what had to be feigned curiosity, for they both knew which book Snape was really after, Harry felt his anger slowly eat away at his guilt. He did not care for the way Snape examined each book, like it might show the very notes Snape had written in his own Potions book as a student, like the spell Snape had invented might be printed in Harry’s Charms textbook by accident.

Harry knew that he was the one that had cast the spell, just as Voldemort was the one who had come to kill his parents fifteen years ago. But he also knew that, just as Voldemort could not have been there without Snape’s help, Harry could not have cast that spell without Snape’s instruction.

Finally, Snape reached Advanced Potion-Making.

“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”

“Yes.”

“You’re quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”

“Yes.”

“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”

“Yes.”

“Then why,” asked Snape, “does it have the name ‘Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”

Harry recalled something Dumbledore had said last summer — “Much like your father, you are a supremely terrible liar.” But he was not about to admit the truth now.

“That’s my nickname,” he said.

“Your nickname.”

“Yeah… that’s what my friends call me”

“I understand what a nickname is.”

When Snape did not press further, Harry’s heart sank into his stomach. If Snape was not going to try Legilimency a second time, it was because he already knew what he wanted to know. Harry kept his eyes on the window, spattered with water droplets. He waited for Snape to demand eye contact again, but it never came.

“Do you know what I think, Potter?” Snape finally said. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. What do you think, Potter?”

Harry’s mind spun with images of Ginny Weasley and the Quidditch Cup. “I — I don’t agree, sir.”

“Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office.”

“But sir…” Harry wondered if Snape had somehow read his mind without eye contact. In his panic, he finally looked at Snape. “Quidditch — the last match of the…”

“Ten o’clock,” Snape repeated. Harry did not know why he had expected Snape to give him any leniency on this.

“Poor Gryffindor,” Snape sighed. “Fourth place this year, I fear.”

Snape left the bathroom. Harry struggled to pull his thoughts back together. He felt numb and ill. He was unsure how long he stood in the puddle of water, but eventually he told himself that he needed to leave before Filch found him.

He headed up to the Gryffindor common room, and was surprised to find it empty, then remembered that everyone was probably in lessons, which was exactly where he should be. With a curse that felt far less meaningful after the number that he’d already muttered to himself today, Harry emptied his books from his bag and put in just what he would need for Transfiguration. Hastily, he washed off Malfoy’s blood and changed into clean robes. He wondered how fast word would make it to McGonagall.

She docked him five points for lateness, which he took in silence. Ron and Hermione shot quizzical looks at him, but he avoided their eyes as surely as if they could use Legilimency to read his thoughts.

McGonagall’s lesson went on as expected, and Harry was certain he would avoid a lecture, at least for now. Then, just five minutes before the bell, a young boy in Slytherin robes hurried in and put a scroll on McGonagall’s desk.

“From Professor Snape,” he said, and hurried out.

Harry wondered if he could get out of the classroom before she read the note. He slipped his parchment and quill into his bag. She unrolled the scroll. Harry watched the clock, waiting for it to chime that the lesson was over. If it would just chime before she finished reading —

As the bell rang, McGonagall snapped, “Potter! Stay.”

Ron and Hermione, loyal to the end, lingered by the door.

“This does not concern you, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger,” McGonagall said. “Not all the trouble Potter gets into is on your account.”

As they left, Harry reluctantly approached McGonagall’s desk. It helped a little to know that his friends were likely waiting just outside the door.

McGonagall did not yell. Harry was not sure it was any better.

“Why were you late, Potter?”

Unlike with Snape, Harry knew better than to lie to McGonagall.

“I was in a duel with Malfoy.”

“You are aware that duels outside of appropriate classroom situations are strictly prohibited?”

“Yes.”

“And you are aware that Dark magic as a whole is banned from the grounds of Hogwarts?”

Harry flinched. “I — I didn’t know it was Dark magic.”

“No? I am not sure which is worse, Potter! Knowing you intentionally cast a Dark spell that nearly killed a classmate, or that you foolishly cast a spell without being aware of the consequences! This is certainly not the first time you have gotten in trouble for dueling Malfoy, nor the first time you’ve damaged school property in one of these duels. And, taking into account the severe damage you inflicted on a fellow student, if it were my choice, I would have you expelled!”

Harry’s hands tightened around the strap of his bag.

“However, as it is, I can only recommend your expulsion to the Headmaster, and I do not foresee that judgement coming to pass. But know that I am putting in the recommendation regardless, Potter. Your behavior was grossly out of line. Madam Pomfrey is quite surprised that Malfoy did not die, but she guessed that the treatment was swift enough to save his life. You’re very lucky that Professor Snape arrived as quickly as he did —”

“I saved Malfoy,” Harry interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“I did the Healing spell that saved his life. I told you, Professor, I didn’t mean for it to… to be so bad. I saved him, and Snape got there just as I was finishing the spell.”

Harry wished he didn’t feel so terrible, or he might have enjoyed the shocked look on McGonagall’s face.

“Well, be that as it may, if you were entertaining any hope that I might overrule Professor Snape’s decision to put you in detention on Saturday morning, you may put it out of your mind. I believe his decision is more than fair.”

“But Professor — that’s three years in a row now that I haven’t been able to play Quidditch —”

“Then you may try again next year. Perhaps next year you will not experiment with Dark spells or duel your fellow students. I believe I have made my position on your punishment quite clear. I think Professor Snape was unusually lenient with you, and you should be grateful it is not worse.”

Harry thought that was rather unfair to suggest he be grateful, when she had just said she was about to recommend he be expelled, but he didn’t dare say that to Professor McGonagall.

“Does that mean you’ll write to my parents?”

“Indeed it does, Potter. Now, if you don’t mind, I have another class to teach.”

He swallowed and wondered if he should expect a Howler in the morning.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him at the door, as he had expected, along with a class of second-year Hufflepuffs who gaped openly at him. As Harry and his friends headed up to the common room, people whispered and cast uneasy glances at them. Even conversation in his own common room ceased the moment he stepped out of the short tunnel. It didn’t take long for Harry to learn why.

Moaning Myrtle had already gone to every bathroom in the school and told anyone who would listen what Harry had done. The news of his duel with Malfoy had probably reached most of the castle while he was still hiding his book in the Room of Requirement.

Harry’s favourite chair by the fire was occupied, so he slumped into a seat at one of the tables tucked into a corner.

“You want to tell us your side of the story, mate?” asked Ron.

Harry did, but he did not want to tell it more than once. Just as he was wondering where Neville was, the portrait swung open, and Neville walked in, dirt smeared on his face and robes, and Ginny came with him. They both looked concerned, and when they saw Harry, hurried over.

“Harry!” Neville said. “Moaning Myrtle said you tried to kill Malfoy, but you didn’t, did you? What really happened, Harry?”

Harry could not meet any of their eyes. He picked at a worn, soft spot in his jeans, and told them about his duel with Malfoy. It was harder to tell them about Snape’s punishment. He could not bear to consider how furious Ginny must be with him.

“I won’t say, ‘I told you so,’” Hermione said, which Harry found painfully insulting.

“Leave it, Hermione,” said Ron.

“So… I guess,” Harry let out a deep breath, “Ginny, you’ll play Seeker on Saturday. Dean can be Chaser, if he likes.” He still could not bring himself to look at her.

“Sure,” she said stiffly.

He knew she was angry, but he didn’t know what else to say to her.

Harry did not leave Gryffindor Tower for the rest of the day. He had no desire to listen to everyone gossip about him, and he didn’t have much of an appetite. Ron offered to bring back food, but Harry declined. He headed to bed early instead. He knew he ought to take the chance to talk to his parents while everyone was down at dinner, but he was afraid to face their reactions.

Still, he knew his parents, and he knew it would be better to talk to them sooner rather than later.

With a heavy heart and a leaden stomach, Harry pulled his bed curtains closed and called for his parents in the mirror.

Lily’s response was immediate, as if she had already had the mirror in her hand. “Harry!” Her face filled the frame very quickly. “James,” she called, her eyes on something far away, “James — he’s already called — yes, he’s right here.”

And then he was looking at both his parents. For some reason, seeing his father wearing the eyepatch again made Harry’s chest ache more.

“Are you alright, Harry?” asked James.

“Yeah,” Harry lied. “It sounds like you already got McGonagall’s letter.”

Lily shook her head. “We didn’t get a letter from Professor McGonagall, at least not yet — Regulus wrote to us. His letter only just arrived an hour ago. We’ve been waiting for you to call since.”

“Regulus wrote to you?”

“He said Dumbledore’s got him doing extra security at the school,” James said, “and he saw the duel between you and Malfoy. You’re alright, aren’t you Harry?”

Harry felt tears prick the corner of his eyes and he blinked. “Yeah — yeah, I’m alright. He didn’t get one off on me.”

James smiled. “That’s my boy.”

“You’re not hurt?” Lily pressed. “Regulus said that Malfoy tried to use an Unforgivable, and that’s when he went to get help. He said there was blood when he got back, but he didn’t know what had happened —”

“It was my fault.” And though it hurt to tell it over again, Harry repeated his story of how he had cursed Malfoy using a spell from the Half-Blood Prince’s notes and nearly killed Malfoy. He told them that he had managed to save Malfoy, but Snape had still given him Saturday detention through the end of the year.

“Including this weekend?” asked James.

“Yeah.”

“In the morning or evening?”

“Morning.”

“No — that’s completely unfair — When McGonagall’s letter comes in, I’m sending her a reply she won’t forget —”

“You won’t convince her,” Harry said dully. “She said that she’d expel me if she could.”

“Malfoy cast an Unforgivable!” Lily said. “I think you were well within your right to defend yourself. I wish you hadn’t used a spell you were unfamiliar with, especially one you found hand-written in someone’s notes, but I should have gone through that book with you more carefully. I knew what Snape was like in school, I just didn’t think he had recorded his curses in his Potions book.”

Harry, as miserable as the day had been, was glad to hear his parents stand up for him. He still did not think they would convince McGonagall to let him play Quidditch, but he was grateful for their support all the same.

“We do have to tell you, though,” James said, “that this news was worrying.”

“Malfoy didn’t get me —”

“Not that,” said Lily. “I mean, yes, we were worried that you’d been hurt but…”

“Ginny told us you almost missed your Quidditch game because you were trying to find out what Malfoy was doing,” said James. “Sneaking away from a party you didn’t want to be at was one thing, but almost missing a Quidditch match, and now this… I thought we had agreed that Snape was investigating what might or might not be happening with Malfoy. I know you’re worried and you want to help, but if you’re putting yourself at risk —”

“Of course I’m putting myself at risk,” Harry said, and wished he didn’t sound so angry. “Aren’t you putting yourselves at risk every time you take a mission for the Order?”

“I wish we were taking missions for the Order,” James grunted, “but with the Ministry here —”

“What your father means,” Lily interrupted, “is that we’re worried you’re putting yourself at risk unnecessarily. You aren’t in the Order, and you don’t have Malfoy’s trust. There’s a reason that Snape was given the job. He’s far better suited to the task than you are. We know that you want to help, and someday you’ll be a member of the Order and Dumbledore will give you missions too, but right now we just want you to make it through this year. Can you do that?”

Harry wondered what his parents would say if they knew he had been given a mission by Dumbledore. Part of him wanted to tell them, but he knew that part of him was bitter and resentful. He’d spent so much of last year being frustrated with his parents, and he didn’t want to fight with them again.

So he changed the subject.

“Which Auror is there tonight?” Harry asked.

They hesitated, and Harry could see the indecision on their faces. It seemed, though, that they too were not interested in a fight.

Lily sighed. “Savage. I don’t care for her. Sirius has been entertaining her while your father and I have been waiting in our bedroom for your call.”

“Was she suspicious of the letter from Regulus?”

“We told her Llewelyn’s a cousin of Remus,” said James. “Don’t know if she believed us or not, but she has no reason to suspect we’d be writing to Regulus Black.”

Something that Harry could neither see nor hear made James and Lily look away from the mirror.

James shouted back, “Be right there.”

“Sorry, Harry,” said Lily. “Sounds like McGonagall’s letter is here. Sirius says there’s a very angry owl with a letter marked with the Hogwarts crest. We can call back —”

“I’d rather not know what McGonagall said,” Harry said. “Thanks though.”

“I’ll convince McGonagall to let you play on Saturday, alright, Snitch?” said James. “And we’ll see you then.”

Harry wanted to believe his father, but he had a feeling that James might feel differently once he read McGonagall’s letter. McGonagall was as stubborn as any Gryffindor. He tried to at least sound hopeful as he said goodbye, but once he had set the mirror aside, he pulled a pillow over his face.

Hope proved to be a false friend. Saturday arrived along with a Quidditch match for Gryffindor and a detention for Harry. While his friends and teammates headed down to the Quidditch pitch, Harry trudged down to Snape’s office in the dungeons.

It was as bleak as ever, and made no more interesting by the dusty, cobwebbed boxes on the desk. Snape set Harry onto the task of copying old, worn school records onto new, clean index cards with about as much glee as Harry thought Snape would ever manage in his life. The work was boring, tedious, and worst of all, Harry could not hear the Quidditch match.

It was an agonising three hours. His stomach rumbling was the only thing that punctuated the silence. Harry was careful not to let his distress show, though he wasn’t sure he was successful. Finally, at ten past one, Snape said, “I think that will do. Mark the place you have reached. You will continue at ten o’clock next Saturday.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was all Harry could do not to run out of Snape’s office. He managed a steady walk to the door, but once he was in the corridor, he ran upstairs.

When he did not hear the sounds of the game still being played on the pitch, he slowed his pace, afraid of what he would find in Gryffindor Tower. Would they be cheering or would they be furious? Would Ginny let him ask her out again, or had that chance slipped by?

He approached the Fat Lady’s portrait hesitantly. “Quid agis?”

She swung open without expression or comment.

Harry was greeted with a roaring cheer. He was yanked into the common room as the people closest to the portrait recognised him.

“We won!” Ron shouted, running over with the silver Quidditch Cup in his hand. “We won! Four hundred and fifty to a hundred and forty! We won!”

And Harry, as thrilled as he was for Ron, who may not have played a perfect game but had clearly played an excellent one, searched for the answer to his second question. Gryffindor had won, so what did that mean for….

His eyes locked with Ginny’s. She was already running towards him. A smile as wide as any he had ever seen on her was spread across her face. She was, Harry thought, as bright as the sun on a day with perfect flying conditions. She laughed as she threw her arms around him, and they kissed.

#hp everyone lives #hbp #hp fic #this shouldve gone up friday but i forgot and ive been so tired this weekend

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sachiro · 7 years

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The Many Faces of Victor Nikiforov - Episode 3

And we’re back with episode 3! There’s actually a lot to be said about Victor here even though the focus isn’t on him most of the time. We get to see the choreo for Eros and Agape for the first time, get some more insight in how Victor acts around people other than Yuuri, and truly get introduced to Victor the Coach for the first time.

Again, I’d like to delve into this set and look at the specific scenes chosen. I hope everyone enjoys!

We start off with the intro choreo to Agape. When I chose this gif, I found myself stuck between three different options: the intro, the close-up of him skating with his fingers steepled, and the ending. In the end, I realized it didn’t matter because I had the same thing to talk about for all of them. With the intro, we see Victor reaching out with open hands as if to bring something into himself, in the middle it seems as if he is thankful and holding something gently, and at the end he presses back out from his chest with his hands firmly clasped. If we combine this with the concept of agape – unconditional love – we can see a possible interpretation of bringing love into oneself, holding it gently, then, with a firm grasp on it, giving back. I’ll talk a bit more about the meaning of the Eros and Agape routines in respect to Victor in a few, but I still felt the choreo was interesting in the respect that it also tells a story – a story of the acceptance of outside love, of cherishing that love, and of giving it back.

The second and third gifs I’d like to first talk about as a pair. Both are from the Eros choreo, but if you look at Victor’s expressions, are almost complete opposites on the emotional spectrum. The first looks to be confident and suave, and the second looks so vulnerable and sad that I couldn’t help but wonder at the contrast. Then I thought about the story of Eros, how it tells a story of a playboy who goes after “the most beautiful woman” (I say that in quotations because there’s actually no woman in this tale, it’s actually a man stealing the heart of another man then disappearing from his sight). Then I started to question the choreo in this program, whose perspective is it being told from? In the end, I came to the conclusion that it’s both. We see the playboy at the start (the first of these two gifs) and at the end when there’s a pushing away gesture. As for the jilted man, we see him in that second of the two gifs. Victor undoubtedly gets lost in his skating and his expressions become very telling as to the emotional meaning behind the programs he’s skating.

On that note, let’s look at these two individually. The suave, seductive look at the beginning of the program to me always looks so empty. After you get past the initial heart-eyed reaction of Victor looking that way in your direction, you start to see how devoid of emotions that expression really is. What we’re actually watching is Victor’s media face in action. I feel there are a couple of reasons for this but the primary one is simply that Victor is not a playboy. He tells this story with two parts within Eros’ program, but he at heart is not and has never been a playboy. So the only way he knows how to portray something like that is through his carefully crafted image that relies entirely on the watchers being too smitten with him to catch the fact that there’s nothing of him actually in it. In most cases, it takes multiple watches of this particular Victor smile to catch it but when you see it, it’s really difficult to unsee.

On the other hand, we get the third gif of this set, where he looks so incredibly sad during the Eros choreo. If you check out Yuuri skating the exact same clip, you can see that his face is completely different (confident even), which says to me that Victor’s expression here is intentional on the side of the creative team. The reason for that? This is Victor emulating the man who was seduced and then abandoned, left with his own thoughts for three months and attempting to figure out what exactly happened the night he was (quite literally) swept off his feet. We don’t know if this expression existed at this point in the program before Victor came to Hasetsu, but the fact that this is not the face of the playboy within the story is undeniable. And the sadness we can see painted on Victor’s face is a clear indicator of how he feels in this position at this point in time. Unlike when he tries to play the part of the playboy, this role is much truer to him. We are looking at the true Victor Nikiforov, unshielded and wearing his heart on his sleeve. Truly, something that one can only see on the ice.

This fourth gif… well, I could say a lot of things, but they would mostly be stating the obvious. He’s gunning really hard for Yuuri in this moment, both (I think) because he wants Yuuri as well as because he knows Yuuri wants him. Victor isn’t as oblivious to Yuuri’s interest as Yuuri thinks (or rather, hopes) he is, even if Yuuri keeps trying to run away from it. That said, if you compare this Victor, who is actively trying to seduce Yuuri and show him “what Eros is to him” to the suave look at the start of Victor’s rendition of Eros, it brings to light just how false the look in the Eros choreo is. Because if this look here is genuine, then there’s no way that the look in the program is too.

Even though the face in this fifth gif is meant to be comedic, I can’t help but think deeply about this scene. This is the face Victor wears immediately after Yurio calls him out for saying that Agape isn’t a program where one shows off their confidence, and yet still skates it so confidently. Victor then gets asked what Agape is to him and he deflects the question back onto Yurio with an overly bright smile and a flimsy answer – “you just feel it, how am I supposed to tell you?”. What this says to me isn’t that Victor is some sort of genius, as others in-show continue to say he is, but quite the opposite (in terms of his own emotional awareness and how that comes out in his skating, anyway). Victor skates out his feelings, the same way that Yuuri does, and that always reflects into his programs. But, as we can see if we look at Stammi in episode 1 and combine it with the knowledge that he was lonely but didn’t know it, he isn’t always fully aware of the full emotional depth to these programs in regards to himself. So, if we assume that Victor’s confusion and obvious diversion mean that he doesn’t know what Agape the program means to him, then can we figure it out? I think so. There are many things that agape as a base concept could mean for Victor – it could mean Makkachin, his skating family, or his fans, among others. What I think it means, when you take in the entirety of the program’s meaning and how he skates it, is that it’s a love letter to his audience. It’s always looked to me like a complete story. Going back up to the first gif, where I described Agape as an acceptance of love and a giving back, I feel that we can apply that here. The program also feels like an all-encompassing gesture, almost like a goodbye of sorts. We can look at Eros and Agape as programs that are 2 sides of the same coin. If Eros is Victor’s struggles to move on to a new part of his life (a beginning), then Agape is his struggles to move on from his past and present (an end). So, even if Victor doesn’t realize it, I think that Agape was meant to be a goodbye to his skating career. He knew his time was coming, and while he didn’t want to let it go, he also knew it was almost time. And so, Agape was born as a way to say to his audience, “thank you for the love and support you have given me all this time”. Truly “Agape” indeed.

Returning to the comedy, this sixth gif is pretty much a clip of Victor’s suffering in action. Just earlier that week he shoved his face right up in Yuuri’s, got the guy all flustered, and asked him what Eros meant to him. And the answer that Yuuri came to was food. FOOD. Not only does Victor know that this isn’t what Yuuri’s Eros actually is (he knows it’s him), it doesn’t even make sense to the story of the program. From a more outside perspective, sure, food can make sense if you only look at the written definition for desire, but on a conceptual level, what Eros as a program truly embodies, katsudon couldn’t make any less sense. Unfortunately, there’s not much more Victor can do other than scream internally about Yuuri’s obtuseness to the entire concept of sexuality that seems to only exist when he’s sober.

Or he can go drown his frustrations in alcohol, which is what he ends up doing. Throwing his responsibilities for the night out the window, he decides that drinking until dawn is the best way to come to terms with his current situation. As comedic as this scene is initially played out to be, it actually brings up a serious underlying issue. When Victor doesn’t know what to do with his emotions, or he feels lost, he drowns his sorrows in alcohol. Whether he even realizes he’s doing this, we can’t know for sure because he’s never mentioned it himself but I worry both for his kidney and his mental health that this seems to not just be a one-off occurrence but a habit. Even if you factor in the possible use of the Russians being heavy drinkers stereotype, the fact that Victor is shown drinking every night since he arrives in Hasetsu and then goes off to get smashed after getting ignored (yet again) by Yuuri before proceeding to coach with a hangover in the middle of an intense training week doesn’t speak well to how he processes his unpleasant emotions and situations.

The third to last choice is a gif, even if it’s not moving. I chose this still image shot specifically because it presents us a view of Victor with a very uniquely complicated expression and none of the other shots of him during this scene really portray how far into his own head he is in this moment. I feel that this is Victor when he realizes he’s at a crossroads in his life and there’s nothing more he can do to affect the outcome. He’s taking a moment before he needs to go out and judge both Yuris’ skating to consider what either result will mean for him. On one hand, if Yurio outperforms Yuuri, which Victor at this point know is the most probable given what he’s seen over the last week, then he will need to give up on the spark of hope he felt from the banquet, the viral Stammi video, and saw in Yuuri himself when he accepted Eros. Victor would return to Russia, to the place that he felt was suffocating him, as a coach and not even a skater. He knows that his heart doesn’t want this, even if his logical mind knows that if Yuuri can’t perform to his potential then it’s what he’s promised to both of them. For Yuuri, the only way he could outperform Yurio would be to show Victor that spark that was shown within the viral video, to reawaken the side of himself that he showed Victor at the banquet, and to channel the confidence he had when he was first assigned Eros and demanded Victor stay if he won. For Victor to get the outcome he wants, Yuuri is going to need to pull out all the stops and show to the world (or at least those watching this ice show) the potential that Victor has seen only in small spurts so far. Looking forward from there, Victor knows that working with Yuuri isn’t going to be straightforward, but it’s still what his heart desires. He knows he has a bias, but as much as Yurio yells about Victor breaking a promise by coming to Japan (he didn’t, he still choreographed a debut program for him), he is still a man of his word and will go back to Russia if Yuuri can’t show Victor right here and now that that spark still exists. In light of all that, it’s no wonder Victor foregoes the pep talks during the warm-ups!

This second to last gif was the moment that spawned a world of controversy when this episode first aired. There were many people who initially found it hard to believe that Victor could take a situation involving Yuuri this seriously, but now that we’ve learned so much more about him, we can look at this scene a lot more critically. The thing that stands out to me the most is Victor’s honesty. Yuuri confides to Victor, through his actions more than his words, that he’s anxious but is swallowing down that emotion for the sake of showing Victor that he is all that Victor has seen in him. That he can perform up to Victor’s standards. And Victor takes this seriously and honestly. Victor does care about Yuuri, on every level that this question could imply. Yuuri wasn’t looking for a response when he admitted his worries to Victor through seeking out a comfort hug but he got one anyway. Victor reassured Yuuri on a deeper level than just “I’m looking forward to your skating”. He was assured that Victor is there for more than that, as well as for more than flirting, but for Yuuri as an entire individual. And Victor wants nothing more in this moment than to see Yuuri succeed. Victor does still want to stay in Japan, and he lets Yuuri know this through the exact words he uses – a direct response to Yuuri’s wish for if he wins, to continue eating katsudon with Victor. As tough as Victor has had it since he got to Japan, he still doesn’t want to leave. And I think this is exactly what Yuuri needed in that moment; honesty, and the reassurance that his feelings were reciprocated.

This last gif is one of the first real glimpses we get of Victor the Coach. Even at this early point, we can attribute his pat on the back then instant critique way of greeting Yuuri as he came off the ice as an emulation of the coaching style that he has had used with himself for years. Victor would have definitely seen how other coach and skater pairs interacted, but the only real long-lasting experience he’s had with a coach has been with Yakov. We know from watching the show that Victor’s coaching style evolves (and quite rapidly) to suit Yuuri’s needs but it’s fascinating to see where he begins, and how confused he is when it very obviously doesn’t work with his student.

That ended up becoming a lot longer than I initially planned but it turns out I had a lot of thoughts, especially concerning Victor’s portrayal and interpretations of Eros and Agape. If you got this far then I hope you enjoyed and if the wall of text was too much then I still hope you liked the gifset regardless! Thanks for reading! :)

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [Duetto]

Bonus because I can never get enough of Victor skating:

#yuri!!! on ice #yuri on ice #meta #yoimeta #fyeahyoi #victuri #victor nikiforov #my meta #my gifs #my post #long post #this ended up a lot longer than planned #not being able to write short is a Problem #whoops! (not) :D

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

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Owayne Thomas → Steve Lund → Wolf

→ Basic Information

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight/Bicurious

Born or Made: Made

Birthday: March, 18th

Zodiac Sign: Pisces

Religion: Jewish

→ His Personality

Owayne is friendly to almost everyone he meets, he can also be very flirtatious when the mood strikes him. Sometimes this is genuine but other times it’s just his friendliness going a little too far. By nature he is a very affectionate person though and won’t shy away from forming bonds with people. He’s also very comfortable with those bonds and his friendships going beyond the normal boundaries. He’ll happily share a bed or cuddle with someone even if they’re just a friend. Along with this his optimistic nature helps him to see the good in people and he enjoys cheering people up whenever he can. He’s the go to guy if you need a good hug or just don’t want to be alone.

On the odd occasion he doesn’t want to do something though he can be very stubborn. Most of the time this isn’t an issue but it has gotten him into trouble in the past when he’s been told to do something he had to do and he’s put his foot down to say no. He landed up with more than a few detentions at school because of this. The other thing that can get him in trouble is his forgetfulness. Work things, meeting friends, buying groceries, he often forgets them all. He’s taken to putting things in his phone calendar with alarms to remind himself to do things.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Landscape Gardener

Scars: Bite mark on his thigh, old surgery scar on his shoulder

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Cuddles and Singing

Two Dislikes: Discrimination and Sushi

Two Fears: His sister dying from the bite and Saunas

Two Hobbies: Growing food and Rugby

Three Positive Traits: Friendly, Affectionate, Optimistic

Three Negative Traits: Stubborn, Vain, Forgetful

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Aled Thomas (Father): Owayne and his father have a good relationship, other than the fact he doesn’t approve of his move to America. Despite that they chat regularly on the phone and will occasionally virtually watch the rugby together.

Sian Thomas (Mother): Owayne’s mother died shortly after giving birth due to complications with the delivery. Thus all he knows of her is what his father has told him.

Galya Thomas (Step-Mother): Owayne’s father remarried when he was a toddler. Galya has been the only mother he’s ever really known and he loves her as such. He still chats to her regularly on the phone.

Sibling Names:

Eira Thomas (Half-Sister): Owayne adored his little sister from the second she was born. They’ve always had their own lives but have known the other is there for them if they need them.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Lucy Hargreaves (Ex-Girlfriend): Lucy was the reason Owayne first moved to America after finishing university where he’d met her. Their relationship fell apart a year later. She moved to LA and he hasn’t spoken to her since.

Platonic Connections:

Isaac Baker (Alpha/Friend): Isaac and Owayne joined the pack around the same time which instantly bonded them together. From that and their shared experience of being turned a friendship grew. Even after Isaac became the alpha of their pack the pair remained friends.

Peter Knox (Best Friend): Owayne thinks Peter is a great 2nd for their pack and considers him a trustworthy person. He doesn’t care about Peter’s sexuality and has no issues with his relationship with Duke. In fact he definitely caught himself harmlessly flirting with Peter on occasion in the past.

Duke Thornton (Friend): Owayne never had any issues accepting Duke as part of the pack. He doesn’t mind that he’s not quite like the rest of them.

Luke Corvinus (New Friend): Luke is someone who Owayne has bumped into at Anonymous on multiple occasions and he already considers him a friend.

Geri Beckham (Friend): Owayne thinks she is a wonderful and fascinating person. He loves hanging out with her when he can.

Leah Phillips (Friend): Despite her cool treatment of him when they first met Owayne was determined to be her friend. He just started treating her as if they were already friends and likes to think he eventually won her over.

Selene Andris (Friend): When he first joined the pack Selene was there to help him find his feet. From the start they got along well and have stayed friends over the years. They often have catch ups at Anonymous where she works.

Jayna Goodwin (Friend/Colleague): The pair met through their work as landscape gardeners and became friends from there. They both share the view that the pack is family and Owayne admires her wit and what she’s willing to do for those in the pack that need her.

Michael Shaw (Friend): Owayne can’t understand what Michaels problem is with Peter but despite this he finds he still gets along with him well.

Chris Shaw (Friend): Chris and Owayne have gotten on since they met and Owayne has babysat for him on multiple occasions since the birth of his daughter.

Garrett Cleirigh (Friend): Owayne isn’t completely sure how the warlock views him but he sees him as a friend none the less.

Riley Anderson (Teammate): Owayne was thrilled when he met someone else with an interest in rugby this side of the pond. They met quite by chance by are now on a pick up rugby team together. His team mentality he got playing the sport growing up means that he sees his teammates as friends too.

Robert J Fischer (Teammate): Owayne met Robert through Riley and enjoys having him as a teammate on their rugby team. His team mentality he got playing the sport growing up means that he sees his teammates as friends too.

Juliette Willott (Client): In her role as Park Ranger Juliette has hired Owayne a few times to help restore areas after storm damage and for help when plants have been dying.

Eliza Meyers (Client): Eliza has hired Owayne to work on a few of the gardens of properties she’s responsible for as a Real Estate Agent.

Hostile Connections:

None

Pets:

None

→ History

Owayne was born and raised in the north of Wales. He had a sad start to life as his mother passed away after giving birth to him. For the first few years of his life he was raised by his father and grandparents, not that he remembers much of this. It was during this time that his father, Aled, converted to Judaism. It is the faith that Owayne was raised with and although he does not practice it quite as his parents would like he still considers himself Jewish. Around the time of his conversion Aled travelled to Israel. It was here that he met and fell in love with Galya. The pair married not long after meeting but their relationship has stood the test of time. Galya loved Owayne as if he were her own and in return Owayne loved her as if she were his birth mother.

A few years after Galya joined their little family she gave birth to a daughter. Owayne was in awe of his baby sister and would spent hours playing with her when she was a baby. As they grew up they remained close, even after they started to develop their own friend groups, interests and lives. They always knew the other was there for them if they needed them. Their upbringing was a quiet one as was to be expected in their little town. School was in the next town, as were the rugby teams Owayne played with as he grew up and the male voice choir his father insisted he join. It meant a lot of time spent on buses but Owayne didn’t mind. He developed many friendships this way - with bus drives and fellow passengers alike.

When it came time for him to go to university he had no real desire to go far from home. Against his parents and teachers wishes he only applied for one university, the one that was just a hour or so away. With his friendly and open nature he made friends easily at university and kept them just as easily. In the early days he had a few flings too, enjoying the freedom to explore his sexuality and the different levels that you could take a relationship to. This part of his university experience came to an end when he met Lucy though. She was a transfer from Chicago and the pair quickly fell for each other. What followed was a few years of being pretty much inseparable, so much so that when they graduated Lucy convinced him to move back to America with her. He did but with in the year their relationship had fallen apart. She’d started to get jealous of the new friendships he was forming but the final straw was when she wanted to move to LA and he didn’t. What she didn’t know was that a few months before Owayne had been bitten by a wolf. He’d only just started to get a handle on it all but the pack that had taken him in had already started to feel like family. In the end he chose them over her. He was heart broken but knows he made the right call.

Within the pack he formed many strong bonds and was able to start a job that he truly loves. He’d always enjoyed gardening with his grandfather growing up but had never considered it as a career. Over the years he’s lost count of how many gardens he’s worked on. At times it’s hard work and he’s come across more than one stroppy or overly demanding clients. Even so he still enjoys his work and loves being able to spend so much of his time outside.

→ The Present

Owayne is hoping to set up a sort of community garden for those in the pack who don’t have gardens of their own. He plans for it to have space to play games, an area to relax in and room to grow fruits and vegetables. Since he first thought of the idea it’s become a bit of a passion project and he’s currently looking for land to make it a reality. He is also hoping to recruit more people to the rugby team he is a part of.

#owayne thomas #steve lund #taken

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coolranch1112 · 6 years

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The choice

as I walked down the hallway dragging my feet and hating my life wondering 'how the hell did I get in this position'. only one word came to mind, brother. more specific my twin tuffnut thorstone. I can handle shoveling dragon shit, cleaning all the weapons in the ford, putting out the fires we made, and apologizing to the people that we stole from, teams we destroyed, or other(the list goes on and on) but this, THIS, I mean this was the worst punishment he could think of. 'when I get my hands on that tiny, one legged, piece of tiny yack dung we call a chief I will rain the full force of lokie on him' was all that came to mind 'I mean for someone who isn't very into complicated and overly time consuming pranks I will make sure this will go on for several lifetimes'. soon my train of thought was interrupted by a simple question from one of my least favorite people at the moment. "so what color would you prefer, blue, yellow, maybe a light purple?" fishlegs asked pointing out the colorful fabrics he thought was nice in the shopbut was quickly inturupted by the other shorter boy in the room with us. "I know my princess would want a more dangers color like a deep red or a stunning night black," he stated pointing out the ones he had in mind for me, "oh you mean the colors that match your suit instead of something that matched her skin tone and personality." fishlegs stated flatly, "how about if the color faded on the dress. I'm sure your mom and brother could help us with that." 'Right now all I wanted was to get home and hide' but sure enough the kept at what they thought was a better color for me.

we had already been looking around the marked place for an hour for stuff I needed at home (which they happily helped carry) but then we passed a fair sized shop with all sorts of feminen things in it like jewelry, fancy hair ties/clips, and of course a tailor and a wall of fabric. unfortunately snotlout finally remembered something for once in his life and it was the opposite of what I wanted to hear, and at best my least favorite subject around this time of year. the summer cellabration, the time of year where we thank the gods for the warmest weather of the year and for asking for good weather in the future, they celebrate for three weeks one week before the extreme heat, during the extreme heat, and a week after to more of relax and enjoy the booze. The celebrating and parting is all up my ally but the one thing I disagree with is the night before the first day of the second week everyone gets dressed up in the nicest clothes they can get their hands on and the ladies get one day a year to where they can where a dress and not get blood on it. now I have never been big on having nice cloths in general. I mean I cant just blow something up in a brand new skirt even tuffnut would get onto me about it.

so now I was stuck having to pick out fabric for my dress with two Vikings arguing over who knows me best for some dumb male competition tom see who could get the only single chick on berk to marry them. honestly I was going to do this eventually because I was oldenough to understand the importance of this tradition but now it just felt like she was going to have to pick sides again. the worst part is they weren't the only people in on this the hole island has bets placed on who I'm going to pick! I mean I could just go back to throck but that would mean leaving tuff and I could never do that to him, and their is eret son of eret but he doesn't even like me, I actually think he has a thing for tuff but I think dagur dose too. uggg why dose my brother always affect my life, I mean come on. the two Vikings that I thought was done bickering had finally shut up but were now looking at me for a final decision.

"well beautiful what will it be my hot and sexy colors or fishguts messy sunset?", snotlout asked as if I was listening to the whole conversation, "I think what snot-breath meant to say was would you like something bright and pretty or dark and un-complimenting," fishlegs shot back as he glared at the shorter boy but then quickly turned his attention back to me with questioning eyes. I sighed an looked at both boys with an annoyed look befor walking past them to the wall of color behind them. now I did favor the red snotlout picked out mostly because I had a nice pair of legging and matching raps in the same color or vary close but the blues were all so enchanting and megestic like looking out over the ocean or walking through a thick forest in the morning. I went through and felt the fabrics that the boys were pinting out that they thought that looked nice because if I couldn't stand the feel of the material no way was I going to wear it. finnaly I hsaw a finger point out a color that looked absolutely amazing.

It was a soft burgundy that actually took my breath away. first of all the feel of the material was enough to persuade me into buying all they had in stalk along with any of the same material, I mean it felt like a one-day old baby's first blanket. the next thing that caught my attention was the actual color, it looked slightly different then all the other burgundy's out their but I just couldn't tell what made it look so dangerous like the red yet subtle and majestic like the blues. finally I noticed when I picked it up how light it was, it weighed nothing in my arms and was flexible not stiff like other gowns for special occasions. I smiled an joyfully asked the store owner, "how much is this fabric?", he took a minute to think then sweetly replied,"usually for every yard of that fabric its about eight silver coins but since I,ve been having a good sales week and that's the last of it and that's about four and a half yards I will give it to you for... hmmm," he paused for a moment to think of a price while pulling a fancy brush through his long beard then finally decided and finished with, "how about five silver coins?"

"DEAL!", I basically screamed as I quickly got out the amount to pay and handed it to them so they could pack it up for me in a neat little container like they did with several others purchased items as well. As we walked out of the store to loud our items up on the dragons I suddenly realized a chang in mood of the others. Snotlout seemed so confident and happy but fishlegs seemed so upset, wait what did I miss? then I noticed snotlout sly grin aimed in my direction and gave it a quick and very un-amused response, "wipe that dumb look in your face, oh wait that's your actual face," I ended with a small laugh that was quickly cut off by a very unwanted anser to the change in behavior," say what ever you want babe but I know that you like me more, why else would you pick t the fabric I pointed out and buy it so quickly?"

I wanted to die. how could have I been so clueless. with fishlegs he would be all senamental about it but with snotlout he was going to talk about it for MONTHS neigh YEARS. I have signed my will and now must lay in my burning boat. just as snotface was about to breath another word my brother and astid appeared with their stuff they came after, my brother looking just as miserable as me. "okay remind me never to pull a prank when a hofferson is near especially the one engaged to the chief," he leaned in and whispered to me before packing away the stuff mom wanted him to get. we all finally got on our dragons and headed back. The whole flight back snotlout kept his stupid smile and fish legs kept his fair distance from the group mumbling about a dance or sewing. tuff was ancous too I could tell but didn't udder a word till the door of our house was saftly shut and all the supplies and my fabric was stored where it was suppose to go. "so what was up with those two did fish see a goust and snot see a hot one?" he said with a slight hint of curiosity in his tone.

"believe me when I say you don't want to know and besides snotlout will talk about this for weeks to come anyway so you'll just find out tomorrow through the terror chain or something," I inquired receiving a small frown when he didn't learn immediately but didn't try knowing that I was definitely not in the mood tom be taunted before the story spread.as I walked up to my room, blew out the candle finally happy this day was over, and got under my two warm layered yak fur blankets I saw the fabric and it made me realize something. Weren't both of them pointing things out? I mean I didn't let it distract me from picking out what I liked and I had became good at ignoring their silly antics but how in the arkapeligo did snotlout break her focus? how did she notice what he was pointing at that split second and not fishlegs? how did he know she was going to love that one of a kind, fit for royalty mixed material? maybe all this was just some huge coincidence and that it was nothing and that I was just over thinking it. I finally found some restless after several restless hours of questions I wore myself out and fell asleep still dreading the day and several weeks to follow.

#ruffnut thorston #rufflout #ruffnut #rufflegs #httyd #httyd ruffnut #httyd fishlegs #httyd snotlout #snotlout #snotlout jorgenson #fishlegs #fishlegs ingerman #httyd fanfiction #httyd fandom #mypost

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benevolenterrancy · 7 years

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@bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b here ya go, thanks, this was fun to write ^-^ nice to write about people being dumber than you are to make yourself feel better

McCree was...

He was...

Well, he was definitely not panicking, that was what he was not doing, because Jesse McCree was one cool customer that could take things as they came and laugh it off. He'd survived the foster care system and his weird adopted father and his overly intense adopted sister. He'd survived losing his damn arm, alright, and everything that went down that made it necessary to bundle a young Jesse up and whisk him away to the houses of strangers rather than leave him at home. And by the end, he'd survived everyone that had thought they could make judgment calls about him without even trying to get to know him, every teacher that had shaken their head and decided some idiots couldn't be helped, every classmate that had turned their nose up at his accent – a vestigial limb left over from a childhood in the south – or his manner of dress or his sense of humour. After all, it hadn't been as bad as all that. He'd wound up with a great family (he'd die for Gabe and Sombra), and plenty of friends. He'd learnt to let people go. Some people just would never see past his shaggy hair or his loud mouth or the cowboy hat he refused to “grow out of”. Fuck 'em, that's what Jesse had learnt. Shrug your shoulders, turn your back, and go find people that matter. There had been a time when he couldn't do that. There was a time when he'd been living back with his birth family that every disappointed look the teacher had sent him when he'd acted out in class had been like a slap and every report card returned home had been... well, not just like a slap. There'd been a time when he'd hated everything about Gabriel Reyes, but mostly the fact that he was forcing him to confront a brand new school with people that stared and laughed and huddled among themselves in the cliques they'd formed years back, no space for a new, pushy, desperately loud kid.

Then things had changed. Then he'd made friends, real friends, and found out what people could be like – what he could be like. And suddenly the people turning their nose up didn't matter any more.

...R-ight.

And so that was why, as Jesse McCree sat in school library across from Hanzo Shimada, he definitely was not panicking at all.

Even if Hanzo Shimada was hot as sin, with long, dark hair cascading down his back, the most intense eyes Jesse has ever seen, and holy fuck those biceps.

The guy did archery apparently. Archery. Who the fuck did archery unless they were preparing to run off in some goddamn fantasy movie? Jesse had never even really given archery much thought as a thing people did – it only really existed in historical documentaries and the Olympics – but now when it was nearly thirty degrees outside and Hanzo Shimada was sitting two feet away from him in a tank top, Jesse was really, really thinking about archery. And how it must take a lot of strength to constantly be drawing and holding a tense bowstring if you wanted to aim with any degree of accuracy. And how that sort of strength made it look like your arms and shoulders had been carved from fucking marble. Especially when one of said statuesque arms had a sleeve of vibrant, blue tattoos running all the way down it. Jesse could get lost in a bicep like that, with or without blue dragons staring back at him, but the dragons definitely didn’t hurt.

The thing was though, it wasn't just that. Jesse had met hot kids before that were out of his league and it generally didn't really trouble him. Whatever, laugh it off, move on. No, of course it had to be more complicated than that. When Jesse had first entered this class he'd wound his way through the filling seats until he'd found himself sitting next to a boy whose name he would learn was Hanzo. Jesse had then immediately had his smile met by a flat stare, and he'd figured, oh well, here was an uninteresting asshole. A hot one, maybe, but an asshole all the same. It hadn't seemed important at the time because he'd already turned to the person on his other side – a girl named Angela who apparently wanted to be a doctor (or a researcher...? Something like that, which involved more of the human body than Jesse wanted to think aobut). She was friendly and laughed easily.

Everything would have been so much easier if Hanzo had just stayed an asshole. The guy was quiet, sure, but Jesse sat elbow-to-elbow with him three times a week and he slowly began to realize that underneath the prickly, don't-look-at-me-don't-speak-to-me aura the guy projected, there was something far sweeter down there. The guy chuckled at every single one of the prof's bad jokes and Dr Winston had a lot of them, and they were always nonchalantly that most of the class didn't realize they'd happened... heck, Jesse usually didn't realize they'd happened until he heard a soft snort next to him.

(And yes, it was a snort. Absolutely and completely undignified and it made Jesse stare at Hanzo until he'd been glared back into submission by the man, who'd seemed flustered that someone had heard him. How do you tell a guy that may or may not hate your guts just for existed that you thought his silly snort-laugh was cute? The answer was you did not do that and focused back on your own notes if you value your life.)

As for Hanzo's notes, well, they were painfully neat and precise. But amid the sharp ballpoint and careful diagrams, Hanzo Shimada apparently had a habit of making snide details about the lessons in the margins (Jesse knew this because it was a two hour long lecture and sometimes watching your neighbour writes notes out of the corner of your eye was better than trying to listen to a prof drone on at the front of the class for another hour and a half). It made Jesse start fantasizing about taking out his own pen and writing a little comment in the corner of Hanzo's page. Made him think about getting into some sort of stupid note-passing conversation with him like they were eight year olds rather than college kids. Made him think about getting to have all those weird, witty little comments directed at him, and then seeing where the conversation took them. (And, occasionally, it made him think about continuing that conversation out of class, possibly down towards a pub he knew for a chat and maybe, oh just maybe, a date.)

Jesse, however, did not dare try – to write the note, that is, entertaining anything else would have been madness. Hanzo looked like the sort of person that might try to tear your head off if you messed up his notebooks.

Then, just to top it all off, during their lecture breaks, Hanzo often got calls from what Jesse could only assume was a brother. And, against every expectation, Hanzo Shimada was sweet. Well, still a bit of a deadpan asshole, but no one who's a hundred percent bad uses his ten minutes of free time to talk with his brother every single day.

“Don't look at me, I am not playing wing-man for you in a class I need to ace if I wanna keep my GPA up,” Angela had said. Jesse had pouted at that – he hadn't even gotten a chance to ask her, had just glanced at her with maybe a slightly-too-hopeful gleam in his eye during one of the breaks Hanzo had left the room to talk with his brother.

And then the fateful day of the class project had arrived. Winston had told them just to group up with someone sitting beside them rather than running piecemeal through the class. Jesse had, of course, turned to Angela only to find she had turned around in her seat and was quickly making plans to team up with a girl sitting behind them named Mei.

Frantically Jesse had spun around, but everyone else was making groups with the people to their left or right who they had been getting to know since day one. With Angela breaking the system, that meant he had only one person left sitting next to him.

Hanzo Shimada was watching him with an unimpressed face and an eye brow raised.

Traitor, he mouthed at Angela.

You're welcome, mouthed Angela, the Stealth Wing-man.

And so here Jesse was, sitting in the library with someone who presumably hated his guts and thought he was – what, loud? Obnoxious? Lame? – but who Jesse still pathetically, wistfully wanted to impress. Life, sometimes, was enormous unfair. At this point Hanzo hadn't even given Jesse the time of day, he'd been sitting at one of the study tables since before Jesse had arrived, nose an inch from his phone as he texted someone. Presumably someone cooler than Jesse McCree.

Jesse wanted to groan. Or shove his pencil in his eye just so he could get out of this project. Instead he mechanically started pulling out his books and waited for Hanzo to be ready to start on the project with him.

Hanzo Shimada: ... WELL??

Obnoxious Little Brother: oy give me a sec some of us are still in class and don't want our phone to be taken away again besides i'm trying to tell zen about how i, the lowly highschooler, am helping my university-bound brother pick up boys

Hanzo Shimada: Don't you DARE

Obnoxious Little Brother: too late he wishes you luck by the way and says he has complete faith in you goes to show which one of us knows you better eh? not him!

Hanzo scowled down at his phone before he gaze flickered briefly up to the person who had sat across from him. He'd been painfully aware of Jesse McCree since McCree had arrived in the library and pulled back the chair with a scrape that had made the hairs on the back of Hanzo's neck stand on end. So far McCree had made no acknowledgment that there was another person at this table, another person he was going to be forced to work along side for the next two weeks.

Hanzo didn't know whether Zenyatta had faith in him or if Genji had just been trying to wind him up, but Hanzo certainly did not have faith in himself, not about this. He had never been good at... people. He made, in Genji's words, “seriously just the worst first impressions. Like wow. So bad,” which just wasn't fair because when it came to a professional setting, when it was about work or networking, he was fine. He could move effortlessly through the crowds, introduce himself, chat, plan, negotiate. He'd been dogging his father's footsteps since it had been decided he would one day take over the family business and he was a devoted student. But as soon as it was real people in real life Hanzo may as well be carved out of wood; somehow he always managed to put his foot in his mouth. Which was why he had fallen so low as to turn to his baby brother for advice, because at least Genji, if nothing else could be said about him, was good with people.

Too good with people, if you asked their father. Genji was a social butterfly who wasn't so much a butterfly as a housefly, flitting about around everywhere and getting where at lot of people would probably wish he wasn't and really not caring who he chatted with or what they thought about him.

Obnoxious Little Brother: look, just don't do the Hanzo Special and you should be fine

Hanzo Shimada: Excuse me??

Obnoxious Little Brother: u kno, your patented Grunt & Growl ™ technique don't do that and assume other people can actually understand you bc they can't

Hanzo wanted to snap back that he did not grunt or growl, thank you, he was a mature adult unlike Genji, but he found his fingers hesitating on the keys. Frantically he scanned his memory to figure out if he had grunted or growled at Jesse McCree.

God help him he probably had. He had almost certainly stared stupidly at him.

McCree... glowed, though, and Hanzo wasn't sure what to do with that. He spoke so easily. All it had taken was one glance from McCree on the first day of class for him to apparently decide that Hanzo was a lost cause. Before Hanzo had managed to scrounge up a single coherent, reasonable thing to say to the sunshine bright, smiling boy who'd sat down next to him, said boy had turned his attentions to the much more receptive form of Angela Ziegler, the girl sitting to his right.

McCree was loud and raucous and ridiculous and he wore the stupidest hat Hanzo had ever seen but god help him he wanted to see McCree smile at him, rather than catch glimpse of it from the corner of his eye while he laughed with someone else. He wanted to have McCree attention at some point other than when he'd made a fool of himself with his ugly laugh or by seeing McCree stare judgmentally at his notes.

Obnoxious Little Brother: at the risk of sounding too much like a disney movie have you tried just.... being yourself??? (this was zen's suggestion btw i'm personally pretty sure being someone other than yourself would be a step in the right direction but you never know maybe disney knows whats up)

Hanzo thought about what McCree had looked like when they had been forced to choose partners. He had wanted to be anywhere than with Hanzo. The look he had shot Ziegler when she had found a different partner... the helpless, defeated look when he had accepted that the only person nearby not taken was Hanzo.

No, being himself was definitely not going to help him here.

Hanzo Shimada: Never mind I'll figure it out

What he was going to do was pretend that Jesse McCree was just some other random student, keep his head down, get this project done with the least amount of fuss, and move on to his next set of class next semester and hopefully forget that McCree existed.

“Shall we get started?” he asked briskly, pocketing his phone and pulling out his own book.

McCree's face was despondent and it sat like a stone in Hanzo's gut. He would rather be anywhere than here.

“Might as well,” said McCree.

#mchanzo #hanzo #mccree #hanzo shimada #jesse mccree #overwatch #fanfiction #bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b #more of a ficlet really #something sloppy and fun because these two are Terrible(tm)#angela ziegler #genji #zenyatta #genyatta #also make a guest appearance

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