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mindingmyownbusiness · 4 years

Text

Rescue (5/?)

Pairing - Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU Summary - You’ve always believed your soulmate was out there somewhere, Bucky not so much. What happens when he finally takes a leap of faith and reaches out to you? Warnings - some canon-typical violence in later chapters, the occasional curse word, but I promise to make up for it with loads of fluffiness Chapter Word Count - 1798 Notes - Posting has gone from once a week to super sporadic lol (sorry everyone!). My goal is currently to have it finished before school starts in a few weeks. Inspired by Rescue by Lauren Daigle and by a lot of the concepts in Sense8.

Series Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

...a few weeks later...

“Dogs or cats?” Bucky was leaning back against his headboard, idly flipping a knife as he listened for your answer.

“Hmmm… that’s a tough one. I’m gonna say cats for right now, dogs later when I have a bigger place. I’d feel bad leaving a pupper cooped up in here while I’m at work.” You rinsed your plate and set it in the drying rack, moving to drain the sink and reaching for a dishtowel.

“I get that. Been thinking of getting a cat myself. It’d be nice to have around but would also drive Sam crazy, win-win. Your turn, Y/N.”

“Any broken bones?” You asked as you hung the dishtowel up and headed to get ready for bed.

Bucky barely stifled a laugh. “More than I care to count, doll, ribs and fingers mostly. Comes with the job.”

You try to picture him shrugging his shoulders like what he said was no big deal as you finish washing your face, shaking your head as the image fails you. “Wow… I forget how dangerous your job is sometimes…” you whispered the last bit to yourself but you knew he had to have heard you.

Not willing to let you dwell on that thought, Bucky presses forward, “How ‘bout you, hmm? Break an arm maybe? Collarbone...?”

“Nope, not a single one actually. I did have to get stitches once but I was so young I don’t remember it. Busted my face on the corner of a table when I was a toddler. Still have the scar.” You peer closer into your bathroom mirror, gently running a finger over the thin white line.

“Ouch… maybe we’ll compare scars one day..”

Bucky sheaths his knife, turning out his bedside lamp and slipping under his sheets, staring up at the ceiling with his hands behind his head. Meanwhile you’ve slipped into your pjs and climbed into bed as well, a comfortable silence enveloping you both as you tuck into a ball under your covers. Your mind begins to wander, the dark and the quiet opening doors to thoughts and questions that typically remain dormant during the light of day.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can I ask you a hard question?”

“Sure…” His heartbeat picked up, suddenly wary of what you were about to ask.

“Did um… w-were you one of the ones that got dusted?”

He let out a slow breath, the memories of that terrible day playing back in his mind. “Yeah… not the most comfortable feeling.”

“Same. I remember… I remember being so confused and then… nothing. Until we all blipped back that is. Adjusting to a world that went on without you for five years hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park.”

“Tell me about it…” he murmurs, his thoughts going much further back than the five short years you both lost, the statement ringing with more truth than he was ready to admit yet.

You clear your throat, “Well, I certainly ruined the mood.” Laughing nervously you forge on. “Time for a new topic, I think it’s your turn...?”

“Sure, let’s see… how are things at work?”

“It’s alright, nothing exciting really. It’s not my dream job or anything, but it pays the bills and the girls I work with are pretty nice so there’s that. How about you? I’m sure your job and the people you work with are a thousand times more interesting than what I’ve got going on.”

Bucky smiles fondly, “Well you already know Sam, can’t live with him, can’t work without him. He’s fun to mess with but I couldn’t ask for a better friend or partner… not since my last one anyway... But Sam’s not nearly as reckless as Steve. Steve was a handful in the best of times, always looking for a fight but in a good way, never backed down when he knew it was the right thing to do… Feels like I’ve been watching his back my whole life…”

“Sounds like you two were close? Did he… did something happen...?”

“Oh yeah he ah.. he sorta retired..? Just decided he was tired of putting his life on hold for the next mission. I supported him but it was still hard to see him go.”

“That’s very noble of you Bucky. You are an amazing friend and partner. He was so lucky to have you.” The admiration and pride in your voice is unmistakable.

Not one for taking compliments well, a flustered Bucky attempts to lighten the situation. “Life goes on right? The world may be getting weirder every day, especially since everyone came back, but I think I’ve found my place in it.”

“That’s so good to hear… I still feel a bit out of place, most of my friends survived the blip and are just in completely different places in their lives than I am. We still talk but I don’t think it’ll ever be the same…” You pulled your blanket tighter around yourself, snuggling deeper into your nest and shaking off the negative thoughts clouding your mind. “So, tell me more about Sam, what makes him so fun to mess with?”

Bucky can’t help but laugh, “Literally everything. He’s so dramatic and it’s way too easy to push his buttons. Just the other day, we were training and he was working on throwing his shie---umm I mean this new sort of weapon and I mayyyy have been telling him the wrong thing just so it would knock him on his ass. Laughed about that for days.”

You found yourself laughing right along with him, eventually ending with a sweet sigh. “What I wouldn’t give to see you smile...”

Bucky stops laughing abruptly and you immediately know you’re the cause of the sudden tension between you. Unlike previous times however you resolve not to cave or opt for the awkward smooth-over. Time to face your fears, Y/N.

“Bucky, part of me desperately wants to apologize for saying that but honestly, the rest of me isn’t sorry at all. I really do want you to be totally comfortable with me and I know I promised not to push you but… I need you to know that seeing you, eventually touching and being with you is something I genuinely want. I mean how could I not want that with the man that I lo--” the words stuck in your throat as you caught yourself, “...th-that I’m meant to be with? You’re my soulmate Bucky, you have to know what that means to me, to us.”

Bucky felt like he was torn in two, reluctant to admit that the thought of letting you all the way in was getting to be as stressful as keeping you out but then again he was the stubborn type. “It’s not just about you seeing me doll, it’s about what seeing me will mean, it’s about my whole life and all the crazy that it entails.”

“You know… you know you can be honest with me right? I can handle it, I promise. There is literally nothing that you could tell me that would drive me away from you, okay? Nothing.”

“How can you promise me that?. You can’t possibly mean it. You don’t know… you don’t know my whole story. It’s not a pretty one.” You can feel his walls going up but you can’t hold it in any longer. It’s now or never...

“What if…” you swallow nervously, “w-what if I told you I did know. That I know you better than you think I do...”

Your words flowed like ice through his veins. “What are you saying Y/N?”

“I-I started to put two and two together almost immediately, as soon as you told me your name. It’s not that common you know....” He’s so quiet you wonder if he has stopped breathing. Knowing there’s no turning back you continue, “And there were so many little things that kept adding up: that you were so reluctant to let me see you, how you told me you used to be military but now you work in security... that you live and train with Sam, Sam Wilson right? Or that time you were out of contact for a week and the story broke about the Falcon and the Winter Soldier taking down that terrorist cell? I know that was you Bucky, I’m not crazy.”

You took a deep breath, calming down a bit. “Did you really think your soulmate would be that clueless? That the person meant to be with you. a literal Avenger, wouldn't be able to figure it out? I’m not upset with you, I promise. It's not like you lied to me, everything you said was ‘technically’ the truth. But... the more I learned about you the more I confirmed my hunch and the more I felt like I was lying to you, and that just didn’t sit well with me.”

Silence was all you could hear on Bucky’s end but you knew he was still there. You gnawed at your lower lip worried that you had made a horrible mistake. “I wanted to come out and just tell you, so many times, but at the same time I had promised not to push you. I was waiting for you to be ready to tell me but I was also starting to worry that it was never going to happen. Bucky I’m so sorry, I--”

Bucky blurted out, “Why are you still here then?! You should have shut me out already. How could finding out not change how you felt about me? Y/N, I’m not just some guy with a military past and a job that takes me away for days, weeks, sometimes months at a time, that’s enough to put a strain on any relationship. But I’m also over a hundred years old, I deal with literal alien threats, and a-and I’ve killed so many people… those memories, the things they did to me, that part of my life is a literal hellhole, and it doesn’t go away, ever. It’s always with me… all those years without memories and now I’d give anything to forget…” You could hear his labored breathing, the anguish in his voice. Tears welled up in your eyes for him, ashamed that you’d hurt him but also desperate to be the one to comfort him. “Y/N I’m-- I’m sorry, I have to go. I need some space right now.”

“Wait Bucky, don’t---” and just like that the connection severs. Not completely thank goodness, you can still sense your bond deep down, but you feel as though a chasm has formed between the two of you.

“I’m not going anywhere Bucky… I love you...” you whisper into the silence, hoping somewhere, somehow that he can still hear you.

Part 6

Taggy tag tags: @bucky-plums-barnes @buckyywiththegoodhair @avengerofyourheart @sebspocketsquare @sgtbxckybxrnes @bionic-buckyb @plumfondler @imaginingbucky @sexonastickstan @angryschnauzer @witchymarvelspacecase @palaiasaurus64 @eyecandybarnes @promarvelfangirl @the-observant-fangirl @ballyhoobarnes @trinityjadec @kjs-s @sebbytrash @true-queen-of-mischief @buckthegrump @moondancewrites @thisisjamesbarnes @beccaanne814 @oneshot-shit @moonbeambucky @stevieang @tnupsweetpie @avenger-nerd-mom @eyesfixedonthesun22 @searchingforbucky @notimetoblog @sugarfreecapsicle @nomadicpixel @nacho-bucky @sarahwroteathing @captain-rogers-beard @buckys-darling @tilltheendwilliwrite @ifellinnthepit

@marie-is-in-the-dark @lorilane33 @igothroughphasesalot

#bucky barnes x reader #soulmate au #marvel fanfiction #sebastian stan

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koriandrsucker · 4 years

Note

Hey it’s miss geek here I’ve finished the story I will need to post it in sections so I will label them part 1 by MG part 2 by MG etc

Thank u so much! It was really sweet. Reading Jason getting some love is always the best. If you want me to erase this, I will, but, I’ll post it whole here.

AU where Kori is the best baby sitter in the entire universe… or is she?

by Miss Geek.

“What the hell is this Harper”

“Well I’m pretty sure it’s called playing Jaybird”

“No you moron I mean why is Kori here” Jason growled in Roy’s ear away from the giggles and laughter.

Roy gives him his signature shit-eating grin and replies “I would have thought Bruce would’ve given that talk Jay, Ah well seems I have to do it you see young grasshopper when two people love each-“

“Shut up Harper, I meant why is Kori in your house” Jason was seething, to say the least.

“Ok jaybird listen Lian wanted Kori to babysit her. Jade and I couldn’t say no to her she gave me the eyes ” Roy said, looking at his girlfriend and daughter chatting animatedly with Kori.

Jason sighed, he knew those eyes pretty well. Lian Harper was one of those very few that could get through the lone wolf that was Jason Peter Todd. The five-year-old knew she had him wrapped around her small pinky finger and Jason, being her godfather, only added to the fact he could not say no to her.

“Ok, whatever she’s here to babysit that means I don’t have to be here. I’ll see you-“

“Uhhh well yeah you see about that-“ Roy said sheepishly.

Jason turned his steely blue-eyed gaze at his best friend (if he’s being honest his only friend) and said, “what did you do Harper."

“Well if we are being accurate I didn’t do anything it was your goddaughter that requested to you both being here,” Roy said while he glanced at his girlfriend getting ready to leave for their date and giving Kori any last minutes things she would need to take care of Lian for the night.

“So, Kori and I are babysitting Lian,” Jason looked at Roy in absolute skepticism.

“No...Kori is in charge and technically babysitting Lian you are just here for Lian's entertainment. She said, and I quote, ‘unca jay is funny’“ Roy said smirking the whole time.

“Why can’t I be in charge I can take care of her just fine on my own. I survived the streets on my own until I was 12 so I can handle babysitting her myself for a few hours” Jason protested.

Roy looked to his best friend/brother/partner in crime and replied “I love you like a brother Jaybird and I know without a doubt you will protect Lian with your life but..you can be a walking hazard at times”.

“What? How?“

“Well there was the time you burnt water while trying to heat her milk in her bottle-“

“That was years ago Harper, give me a break-“

“Ok, what about last week when you put the toaster on fire trying to make Lian cheese toasties”.

“I still can’t figure out how a five-year-old knew how to use a fire extinguisher. In my defense, that incidence speaks volumes about your household Harper”

Jason really didn’t want to be alone with Kori.

It’s not that Kori was horrible to be around, in fact, she was the nicest person Jason has ever met. Korina Marie Anders was a pleasant girl who he had been acquainted with six years ago at his adopted brother's 21st birthday. She introduced herself to him and Jason found himself lost for words for the first time in his life, much to the amusement of his entire adopted family.

Even to this day he still thought about her but he was always wary to talk to her for many reasons, one of them due to her history with his brother, “Prick” Grayson (no he didn’t get his name wrong, in Jason's mind that is the name he had christened his older adopted brother). Kori had a brief dating history, by brief meaning literally under three months. The reason why they broke up was unknown to everyone.

However, Jason was not afraid of his brother. If he didn't approach Kori, it was more the fact that he convinced himself of not being good enough and that she would never see him in that way. After all, if she didn’t want Grayson, who all of Jason’s life had known to be Bruce’s golden child, the best son, the prince of Gotham, and everyone’s favorite guy, why on gods green earth would she want him. HIM. Jason Peter Todd, the street kid Bruce Wayne took in, the troublemaker, the dark prince of Gotham.

The only people who he can handle their presence are Roy, Jade, Lian, Alfred, and maybe Tim, on a good day. It’s safe to say Jason got rid of any hope to catch the eye of Korina Anders, but that did not mean his crush went away.

He got out his trip down memory lane as Roy spoke again.

“I don’t really think your problem is about me trusting you.”

“What do you mean,” Jason narrows his eyes at his friend.

“The real issue is you can’t trust yourself around Kori,” Roy replied.

As his best friend, Jason did confide in Roy his crush on the redhead and since then Roy was on a mission to get the two together. Unfortunately, Jason always dodged every plan Roy had. Well, all except this plan. Unbeknownst to Jason, Roy knew what he was doing putting Lian into this. It would make Jason unable to say no.

His plan was working so far, he only hoped it would work in everyone’s favor. Jason’s silence was enough to convince Roy that he still had feelings for Kori. With that reassurance, he called over to his girlfriend.

“Hey babe come on, we will have to leave now, our reservation is at 7. Thanks again Kors for the recommendation and for looking after Lian tonight.”

Jade turned to Kori gratefully. “We honestly can’t thank you enough it’s been a while we have been out without Lian.”

“Babe, please, she knew how to swear in Vietnamese at three years old, and I sure as hell can't speak a word of Vietnamese, so where would she get THAT from.” Roy retorted, knowing full well he won that argument and the look on his girlfriend meant she knew it too.

Instead, she rolls her eyes at him and turns to her daughter. “Lian be a good girl for your aunt Kori and uncle Jason, ok? Mommy and daddy will be back soon, and Kori, you have both our numbers don’t hesitate to call if you need us”.

“Ok, mommy, I’ll be good me. Aunt Kori and unca Jay will have buckets of fun, won’t we?" As she turned to her uncle and aunt.

Kori answered with, “yes, we will Lian”

Jason was still wrapping around his head that Lian called Kori her aunt.

“Aunt Kori?” Jason whispered to Roy.

Roy’s reply was not what Jason expected. “Well, actually, Jade and I were hoping that title will change to godmother if all goes well.”

That left Jason lost for words while Kori and Lian waved goodbye.

Lian turned to her uncle and aunt. "What are we gonna do first? Can we play princesses? Oh, what about pony island instead or how about -?”

Lian Harper was a talker and Jason didn’t know how to control, as he liked to call them, Lian's sugar rush mode.

Kori turns to Lian and says “Did you finish your homework from school?"

Lian went sheepishly quiet and told Kori “Umm, no aunt Kori.”

Kori gave Lian a smile.

“Well, if you finish your homework we can do what you want.”

Lian thought carefully for a minute and to Jason’s surprise, she calmly replied. “Ok aunt Kori, do you pinky promise?”

She stuck out her pinky only for Kori to take and wrap it around her own. Satisfied that her aunt Kori won’t break her promise, she moved into the kitchen to start her homework. Kori then turned to Jason who had a blank expression.

Kori was concerned so she asked, “Hey Jason everything alright?”

“How did you do that,” he asked still in a daze.

“Do what?“

"Get her to listen to you. She never does that willingly, she usually needs to be bribed.”

Kori smiles at him and he feels his knees buckling. He sometimes forgets the effect she has on him.

“I’ve had a lot of practice with my brother”.

“Ah, right.” He replies and resists the urge to ask her what’s been on his mind.

Instead, she speaks. “Lian tells me you are favorite uncle,” Kori says with a knowing smile.

Jason gives her his signature smirk and tells her, “I’m her only uncle that she sees regularly, so there’s no competition. Not really”.

In a way, Jason has indeed been there for Lian since the beginning and she sees her other uncles, from Dick to Wally, only time to time as Roy isn’t hostile towards them anymore but still, the friendship will never be how it once was. Jason knows fully well how burnt bridges are beyond repair.

However, Kori shakes her head “No, I’ve seen her interact with others. It’s not the same way she looks at you. You should have seen her face when Jade told her you’ll be coming over. Her face lit up like the Fourth of July.”

Jason gives her a genuine smile, something she has not ever seen on the man before her. Always a smirk or a tight smile. So seeing this new smile she realizes it’s an expression she would like to see more of. Hopefully.

Before Jason has the chance to say anything, Lian comes back from the kitchen, finishing her work.

They all decided to play some games much to the embarrassment of Jason. Lian made both of them play pretty pony island. Kori thought Jason cooperating with Lian's demands was adorable. Jason thought he might die.

Kori then went to start making dinner for them all.

Lian turned to her favorite uncle and said “I like aunt Kori, unca Jay”

“Me too, kid.”

“Can you marry her then?”

Jason didn’t think it was possible to choke on air but he proved himself wrong.

“Wait what??? Who told- hold on a minute” Jason tried to get his bearings right before answering his goddaughter. “What are you talking about.”

“Daddy said you like her, so if you marry her she can come round all the time with you right?” She asked innocently and again she used those eyes.

Jason sadly replied, “I don’t think she likes me like that, kid.”

“Why not? your the best unca ever”

She ran over to him to give him the biggest hug she could give. Jason had a habit early in life not to live up to people's expectations because he felt he always fell short on those expectations. However, with Lian, it seemed he could do no wrong and with that, he hugged her back as much as the five years could handle.

That’s how Kori found them and she didn’t want to split them until they did themselves. They both turned to Kori as she explained dinner was ready.

Dinner surprisingly went smooth Lian didn’t make a fuss. It was then time for bed and Lian wanted a story. Jason knew her favorite story was Robin Hood, so as he read the story animatedly to her, Kori watched on the sidelines, smiling the entire time.

Lian then got put to bed as Kori left the room Lian turned to her uncle.

“Unca Jay, aunt Kori is the best babysitter in the universe but you're the best unca ever. I love you unca Jason,” and she drifted to sleep.

Jason smiled, kissed her forehead, and slowly crept out the room.

To his surprise, Kori was right outside the room.

“I told you, you're her favorite uncle. Not that I blame her,” she said with a smirk.

Is she flirting? Jason can say he wasn’t sure, so he tested his theory.

“Oh really,” he said.

“Around the people you love, you don’t pretend to be something you're not. It’s clear as day how you feel about them. You don’t hide behind a mask” Kori replied.

Immediately, Jason had the answer to his question about her flirting with him.

This must be why Prick Grayson and her broke up. Grayson was known to hide behind a mask, he portrayed one image but had another behind closed doors. As friends, it would not be as much of an issue, however, in a relationship, it’s another playing field and with a relationship with Korina Anders, who wears her heart on her sleeve, Jason was sure it caused them to clash.

“It’s difficult to show emotions when you're being raised by Bruce Wayne,” he isn’t sure why he was sticking up for Grayson or maybe it was for himself.

“Well you seem to be doing alright for yourself,” she said shyly.

“I won’t lie to you it’s not like that every day. Some days are better than others,” he admitted.

This is why he didn’t want to be alone with her. Stupid Harper.

"Why won’t you lie to me, I wouldn’t be offended if you did,” she said looking confused.

Without his brain's permission, he blurted out “You’re too good to be lied to.”

His face sure turned the color of Kori’s hair.

Kori smiled at him and admitted, “I heard what you said to Lian about me not liking you in that way. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise."

She suddenly turned, ashamed of Jason thinking the worst of her. However, Jason just wanted to crawl in an imaginary hole. Anywhere, please, Lord Almighty, but here with her.

“Please Kori just forget you heard that” Jason pleaded.

“Why” she whispered.

“Because I’d rather forget than you reject me.”

“Who said I would reject you” Jason looks at Kori stunned.

Kori is looking at her feet because she, like him, spilled her feelings.

“Are you serious? Since when?”

“Remember last summer in Gotham? You came back for a visit. I tried to go up to you but it was hard, I didn’t know if you saw me in that way, you always had that too cool for school vibe since I met you. I’m a nerd with an Astrophysics degree. Like I said I didn’t think u would look my way”.

Jason was floored. He never thought this would ever be a conversation but now it’s out in the open. He can’t help but wonder what if.

So right then and there he decides to throw caution to the wind and take the risk.

If anybody knew Jason Peter Todd, they would know he loves to take risks. He moves closer to Kori until there are barely inches apart and whispers to her.

“Trust me, I’ve been seeing you that way for six years, I’m pretty sure I won’t change my mind”.

Kori now was blushing and she couldn’t fight it down. This man in front of her could bring out emotions she never knew she was capable of but she accepted it.

“Me neither.”

She whispered back, afraid if she talked any louder their moment could break. And so with that, reassuring him, his feelings were reciprocated he went in for a chaste kiss. However, the moment his lips landed on hers, Kori turned it more passionate. Even if he was not expecting that from her, Jason allowed Kori to explore all she wanted, after all, he thought she might as well get used to what will be hers and hers alone.

So Jason could agree with Lian that Korina Marie Anders was indeed the best babysitter in the universe.

Now he owed the smug Roy a huge favor.

Hmm, maybe playful revenge is how he’ll show his appreciation. After all, he can’t lose his touch now, can he?

#jaykori #jason todd #koriand'r #starfire

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krissy-kat · 4 years

Text

PJOverse Headcanons Pt 6:-

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 7, Part 8

Harley

• The senior year wasn’t fun at all like in those high school dramas that Abbie likes to see, instead it was filled with stress of checking out the best scholarships, applying into colleges and worrying about getting in

• But throughout his senior year, Harley followed Spiderman news religiously

• “You know your celebrity crush on spiderman is worst than your pinning for Peter”

• “Nobody asked you Abbie”

• “Yeah whatever, I came here to tell you I want to go to Camp Half Blood this year because it’s probably your last year and I want to go there with you”

• “Really!”

• “Yeah”

• “Ok I’ll IM Chiron and ask him right away”

• “Calm down it’s getting late, ask him tomorrow”

• About 2 months before summer vacation, Harley receives a IM from MJ

• “Not that I’m complaining but you don’t IM me without a purpose, so what is it”

• “You are right, I trained you well ”

• “So”

• “You complained way too much when Peter stopped coming to Camp”

• “I’m sorry but what does this IM have to do with it ”

• “Let me finish first loser, Peter’s coming to Camp for the first week of Summer and you don’t come to Camp in the first week like ever, so I thought I let you know because I won’t be able to listen you whining about it all summer ”

• “Really!”

• “Yup, I gotta go now talk to you later ”

• “Bye”

• Harley informs Tony about change in plan

• “What urgent business do you have that has to be done in the first week, it’s like every one wants to abandon me that week ”

• “What happened Old Man”

• “Pepper have to Europe to check on branches there, Spiderman is going on a trip with his best friend and now even you aren’t coming that week”

• “Don’t be overdramatic, you’ll be fine and you are acting like we aren’t staying at all, we’ll staying with you in the last week of vacation ”

• “Wait a sec, we”

• “Did I not mention Abbie will be coming too”

• “What do mean Abbie is coming doesn’t she have Roman Camp to go ”

• “We have Exchange programs, so Abbie will be coming this year ”

• “So you are saying during the last week of summer, I’ll have handle not one, not two but three demigods, one of which will be starting high school, one senior year and one college next week, you guys are gonna make all my hair grey with stress of handling 3 overexcited ADHD teenagers”

• “Wait, three”

• “My intern is a demigod too, that’s why you guys won’t be meeting anytime soon”

• “Awww”

• Meanwhile in New York

• “What do mean you told Harley I’ll be coming in the first week”

• “It means exactly what you said ”

• “But MJ, I’m a bi disaster you can’t do that to me”

• “I already did ”

• “B..But”

• In the summer vacation Peter and Gang go to Camp

Summer Vacation

Day 1

• Ned stays in Athena Cabin with Peter

• “So when will I finally get to meet the famous Harley Keener”

• “He told me he’ll be coming in Evening so he’ll here soon” - MJ

• As of on clue, they hear a bantering between 2 voices, one that MJ recognize as of Harley’s

• “I can carry own luggage, I’m 14 not a toddler, you don’t need to carry it for me”

• “But I want to”

• MJ wanted to see how it unfolds, but Ned decided to be his sweet self and help them without even knowing that was Harley

• “Do you guys need any help, my friends and I would love to help you both” - Ned

• “Are new because I don’t remember seeing around last summer ” -Harley

• “He’s Ned, hey Harley, it’s been a long time ” - Peter said with heart eyes

• “Hey Peter ” - Harley

• They stare into each other’s eyes, Abbie couldn’t take the sexual tension and interrupts their longing gaze

• “Harley care to introduce me your friends”

• “Umm.. Yeah, this is Peter, he’s a son of Athena” -Harley

• “Hi” -Peter

• “This is Betty, daughter of Apollo ”

• “Nice to meet you”

• “That is MJ, daughter of Ares ”

• “Sup, loser”

• “That is Flash, son of Aphrodite, I don’t why he’s with them”

• “Ha Ha, very funny ”

• “No seriously I’m really confused last I heard MJ still had a grudge with you and now she is letting you hang out her”

• Abbie controls her laughter at Harley’s lack of tact

• “Well it’s been a whole year and we go to same High school, we can resolve it during the school year, you know ” -Flash

• “Wait a second, you go to same high school as MJ” -Harley

• “Harley we have been going to same school since before High School” -Betty

• “You go to same school too, next you’ll telling me Peter and the new kid go there as well” -Harley

• Betty, Peter, Ned and Flash avoids his stares, and MJ smirks meanwhile Abbie trying her best to not laugh at her brother’s dummbassry

• “Why the hell did I not know about this ” -Harley

• At this Abbie couldn’t control her laughter

• “You truly are a dumbass, let’s go keep the luggage in the Cabin, have dinner and discuss this in tomorrow, so you can recover from the shock ” -Abbie

• “You seem to be a smart person, this dumbass forgot to introduce you ” -MJ

• “I’m Abbie, this Dumbass’s sister”

• “Are you sure” -MJ

• “Unfortunately ” -Abbie

• “I’m right here” -Harley

Day 2

• “Sooo… was anyone of you planning to tell me that you all go to same school” -Harley

• “Don’t look at me, it wasn’t like we ever talked outside of when necessary ” -Flash

• “I thought you would know since you never asked how we knew each other already” -Peter

• “I thought MJ must have told you ” -Betty

• “And I thought everyone knew” -MJ

• “Why?” -Harley

• “Everyone knows, you were to busy staring Peter’s butt to notice” -MJ

• Harley and Peter turned red

• “So what do you guys do here exactly ” -Ned

• “We…. I don’t think even I know what we do exactly, most of time we do our own things and come together during Camp Activities ” -Flash

• “So, like we don’t have any schedule ” -Abbie

• “Well there are cleaning duties, the team that loses in the game are stuck with them” -Betty

• “No other duties” -Abbie

• “Nope” -Betty

• “You Greeks are so disorganized ” -Abbie

• “Of course, you would think that ” -Harley

• “You’re the one talk, Mr-I-can’t-work-without-mess” -Abbie

• “Can we please not have a sibling argument right now ” -Peter

• “I wanted to see that, what happened to you” -MJ

• “There was fight about spiderman in the morning, one his sibling said that she thought spiderman was cool and it escalated from that, Peter was right in middle of it” -Ned

• “Poor Peter” -Betty

• Ned quickly changes the subject

• “So what do you guys mean when you say you do your own things ” - Ned

• “I draw and sometimes spar” -MJ

• “I help out in infirmary and practice Archery ”-Betty

• “I work in Forges on my inventions” -Harley

• “When I came during the freshman year, I used to design the weapons so I spend most my time in Forges too” -Peter

• Flash mumbles something

• “What did he say” -Abbie

• “I do Aphrodite stuff, and spar” -Flash

• “What do you mean Aphrodite stuff” -Ned

• “He means gossiping, makeovers and meddling with others relationship ” -MJ

• “Well I’m pretty good fighter too” -Flash

• “That’s because you are on Instagram all the time and you have to defend yourself against the monster you attract” -MJ

• “Wait, you can do that” -Harley

• “He attracts atleast one monster every week” -Betty

• “It’s really hard to keep up with you guys, do even complete a discussion before jumping to another ” -Abbie

• “No” “Nay” “Nope” “Never” “Who does that” “That’s what you do” they say all at once

• “No wonder why Roman gets irritated while talking to you guys” -Abbie

• “Technically I’m a roman too” -Ned

• “Wait, I thought you were Peter’s half sibling ” -Harley

• “He’s Peter grand-nephew” -Flash

• “Flash, how many times I have to tell you not call him that ” -Peter

• “What are you going to do beat me?” -Flash

• “Maybe, I’ll do that ” -Peter

• “Than I’ll challenge you to a duel” -Flash

• “I accept ”-Peter

• “I got a idea, how about we make it in a team of two” -Flash

• “Why not?” -Peter

• “I’m a Archer, I can’t play so I’m out” -Betty

• “I don’t even have a weapon so I’m out too” -Ned

• “That leaves us with MJ and Harley, I pick MJ” -Flash

• “Sure, why not” -MJ

• “I thought you would team with me, MJ” -Peter

• “He picked me up first ” -MJ

• “But” -Peter

• “No Buts” -Flash

• “Okay we’ll meet here in an hour, if I win you’ll stop calling Ned my grand-nephew and if you win I’ll do the photo you wanted me too” -Peter

• “I agree” -Flash

• Flash and Peter took off into opposite directions and MJ following Flash while Harley follows Peter with Abbie chasing after him

• “Wait, what just happened and what is Ned’s parentage again ” -Abbie

• “Flash and Peter are having an impromptu duel while they team up with MJ and I respectively and one of Ned’s grandparents is child of Minerva, keep up ” -Harley

• “You got all that from the conversation and you still didn’t knew they all go to same school ” -Abbie

• “Yes, now I need go prepare with Peter for the fight” -Harley

• “You really are a dumbass” -Abbie

• Meanwhile

• “You knew Peter would take the bait and team with Harley didn’t you, it was your elaborate matchmaking ” -MJ

• “Maybe, plus I knew he would offer to finally take a picture in spiderman suit with me for my insta and I needed to win that bet” -Flash

• “What if I sabotaged the fight” -MJ

• “You haven’t lost a single fight except the one you and Clarisse fought each other, you don’t want to ruin your reputation ” -Flash

• “Ok, you got me there” -MJ

To be continued

( If you were wondering why I took so much time for Pt 6, I wanted to post it with this post)

Also I’ll be tagging those who want me to undercut, if you want me tag you DM me

@doodleddaisies

#parkner #peter parker #harley keener #michelle jones #betty brant #flash thompson #ned leeds #abbie keener #tony stark #pjoverse au #son of aphrodite! flash #son of athena! peter #son of hephaestus! harley #daughter of vulcan! abbie #daughter of apollo! betty #daughter of ares! michelle #legacy of minerva! ned

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penny-anna · 4 years

Text

@abluescarfonwaston as I said I got like 4 stars for this meme and no specific requests, so I’m just going to talk at length about the fic I have the most to say about, which is sandstorms and hazy dawns

hooray!!

She comes to him in the night, breath hot against his ear, and says, “can we keep them?”

This opening scene takes place between the 2nd and 3rd scenes of the story... this is probably needlessly confusing as the rest of the story is in chronological order but, this is where I wanted to start & I can do what I want.

“No,” he says.

He feels her weight shift as she lies down beside him. “Why not?”

“You know why.”

She noses at his neck, at the side of his head, nuzzling him. He feels the beginnings of a purr down in her chest, feels it in her and inside himself. “I like them.”

He touches her head, burying his fingers in her coarse fur the way he hasn’t for years. It’s been a long time, since they were as close as this. When they are together she sleeps an arm’s length from him. For days at a time they’re apart. He knows her only as a flash of white on the edge of his vision, a scent in the air. She wanders for miles, for weeks, following her own path, and he sees her not at all.

so let’s talk about the break up!!

Geralt & Dag used to have a more ‘normal’ person + separated daemon relationship (like most witchers), in which they would only split up for long periods out of practical necessity. they broke up for several years following events in blaviken. here is my extremely rough rendering of how that went

geralt: why you let this happen. you’re supposed to be my conscience :(

dag: umm how is this my fault? you asshole?

geralt: fuck off

dag: fine i will!! *fucks off*

geralt: wait no i didnt mean it :(

i have no intention of ever writing this scene as i don’t think i could do it justice. in my head he also throws a rock at her tho. bcos he’s an angry boy & an asshole.

however!! the strain in their relationship would not have started there. when i was writing this fic i was imagining that the fact of being separated would in itself put a strain on any person/daemon relationship, which i felt was implied by the HDM books. & then since writing it I read The Secret Commonwealth which more or less confirms that separating does just cause people’s relationships with their daemons to break down sometimes.

I think I said this in another post but, I imagine that the newly acquired ability to have separate experiences would make them more and more able to seriously disagree on things. and physically separating for long periods (even if only for practical reasons) would force them to get better at functioning alone which could in turn make them more and more emotionally distant from each other.

He scratches at the join of her neck and jaw, and that purr grows, long and deep and contented. She lays her head down beside his, and he holds her. He’s aware of her tail flicking, restless. She’ll be awake a while yet and so will she. They always sleep and wake at the same times, no matter how many miles separate them.

Geralt loves her, his lion, his dæmon. He loves her with every fibre of his being. He loves her strength, her grace. He loves that she can take any shape she pleases, be a bird or a fish or a snake when the moment calls for it. He loves the distance she can walk from him. He would not have her any other way. He cannot imagine her any other way.

i was always going to have witchers w separating daemons for this fic. however i got talked into the idea of witchers w mutable daemons by someone in a witcher discord I’m in... whoever you are I have forgotten your tumblr so can’t credit you for your idea properly sorry!!

i was originally reluctant bcos it seemed to me that mutable daemons implied innocence & youthfulness, which is kind of at odds with how witchers seem to be perceived. however following the above discord conversation i realised it can also imply 1) that witchers don’t really have ‘fixed’ personalities, which ties in with their supposedly not having feelings; 2) ‘innocence’ but in a negative way, in the sense of immaturity & not having a properly developed mind and sense of morality.

obviously none of the above is actually true and witcher daemons are just shapeshifting adult daemons but, that is how people perceive it.

additionally, given how superpowered witchers are it seemed to fit that they would have found a way around all the weaknesses that having a daemon bring.

He knows that she loves him too. He understand why sometimes she despises him. He has cursed her, with his words and his thoughts, and she hates him for it. She has left him alone, and he hates her for it.

They say witchers feel nothing and they are not wrong. It doesn’t pain him when they are apart. He hasn’t felt that pain since he was a child. He barely remembers what it feels like.

She stops purring. Her breath puffs against his skin. “Stop thinking so hard,” she says. “Go to sleep.” Her tail has stopped twitching. “Go to sleep.”

“I think you and I might have got off on the wrong foot – as they say.”

this scene is supposed to take place offscreen shortly following the gutpunch haha

“White hair – no visible dæmon – two very – very scary looking swords – I know who you are.”

I don’t like when daemon fics recap entire scenes w the addition of daemons but I wanted to get this 1 change in so. here it is in a brief flashback. i elected to take out ‘big old loner’ bcos 1) listing 3 things is neater 2) I felt that not having a visible daemon would be a more notable characteristic for jaskier to point out.

not having a visible daemon is not necessarily a ‘tell’ that someone is a witcher or part of another demographic that can separate as people’s daemons are just out of sight sometimes.

It had surprised him, the ease with which that word visible had tripped off the bard’s tongue; that unhesitating acknowledgement that just because he couldn’t see something did not mean it didn’t exist.

He says, “hm.”

“Aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“No,” he says.”

“You can call me Jaskier,” says the bard. With a jerk of his shoulder he indicates the songbird-dæmon perched atop his lute. “This is Tansy.” The dæmon peeps a greeting. Receiving no response the bard goes on, “she’s a nightingale which I think is very sexy of her. You know,” he adds. “Because I’m a singer. And she’s a – a songbird.”

i realised while i was writing this that jaskier never actually introduces himself on screen. which seems like an oversight on the part of the writers tbh. means we can do what we want tho.

as i said in the a/n on the fic itself, I got the idea of giving Jaskier a nightingale daemon from two halves of a whole. usually I try and avoid just straight up copying other people’s form ideas but i just. fell in love with nightingale.

other forms I’ve seen for jaskier seem to tend VERY strongly towards birds which I find interesting! i’ve think I’ve seen maybe 1 daemon fic where he doesn’t have a bird daemon.

moving on to the name! this is tansy:

I do intend to get into this in potential future installments of the series, but Tansy is not her birth name (none of the main daemons in this AU use their birth names, completely independently of each other). she started going by Tansy relatively young and when he later changed his to match.

I think Jaskier settled relatively young - maybe 2 years before the time this fic is set - and being the overdramatic little punk he is hasn’t quite got over the ‘have i mentioned how cool my daemon’s settled form is today’ phase yet.

& finally before moving on, p much the first thing we learn about Jaskier & Tansy is that he is very happy and at ease with her and the form that she takes. this is important.

He grunts an acknowledgement – if only to get the bard to stop explaining.

“You’re not the best conversationalist, are you?”

A sudden tension, inside his chest. She’s close. He looks up and there she is, slipping into view on the clifftop.

“It’s just usually when you have a conversation you take it in turns to speak,” says the bard. “Rather than one person doing all the – oh.”

Dag makes her way down the ragged cliff, leaping from perch to perch in languid motions till her white paws touch the earth and she’s beside him. Stooping Geralt runs his hand over her head in greeting. Her eyes narrow.

this is another thing I have mentioned Elsewhere but i did fall in love w geralt’s daemon’s name in two halves of a whole (linked above) and went looking for something which had a similar feel to it. sorry.

i’m aware that Dag is technically a man’s name but given the kind of, inherent gender-bending nature of opposite sex daemons it seemed appropriate.

i confess i was also thinking of the dag in fury road.

seen a lot more variety in daemon forms for Geralt than jaskier! most common choices seem to be 1) wolf and 2) roach is his daemon. I’m really not into ‘existing animal companion as daemon’ bcos I’m firmly in the camp of ‘daemons as a manifestation of a person’s inner voice’ rather than ‘daemons as Companions’ so I can’t get behind daemon!roach (I actually find it actively offputting gfdlkjfskdh)

wolf is a p good fit imo but I find it a bit on the nose and I wanted to do something different. so. he is a giant kitty cat. & as someone (I forget who sorry) correctly identified she is leucistic rather than albino.

white mountain lions do exist but best as i can tell there’s like 1 photo on the entire internet. bummer.

He’s aware of the restlessly silent presence of the bard behind them shifting his weight, his dæmon fluttering about his head, aware perhaps that he’s intruding on something intimate.

Geralt straightens, and the bard takes that as his cue to begin again. He clears his throat and says, “what can I call her?”

It’s been a long time, since anyone has asked for her name so brazenly; in fact he isn’t sure anyone ever has. Geralt shoots the bard a look.

“Well, you must call her something,” he says, unintimidated.

“I do,” says Geralt. “You don’t.”

The nightingale-dæmon, now resting upon her bard’s shoulder, is eying Dag curiously, but she’s cautious enough not to approach.

one thing I’ve noticed when re-reading HDM is that characters very rarely refer to other people’s daemons by names, even when they know them. generally i’ve loosely kept to this in my own daemon AUs bcos 1) i find that when fics us each daemon’s name every time i get a bit lost as to whose daemon is whose and 2) I like the idea that using someone else’s daemon name is a very hm. intimate thing. hence geralt is reluctant to call tansy by her name, even though he knows it.

“Right,” says the bard. “Well, then.”

Come morning, Dag is gone, but not gone far. Out of sight, but not so far away he can’t feel her. She’ll come back when it pleases her.

He readies Roach for the path ahead, half-listening to the lilt of conversation that carries from the bushes; Jaskier’s voice, and the pretty voice of his dæmon.

The bard stumbles out into view, tousled and bleary from a night on the ground. “G’morning.” He ambles over to join Geralt.

i genuinely wanted to specify here that jaskier was having a piss in the bushes but i couldn’t find a way to get it in that didn’t seem kind of tasteless. that is what is happening here tho.

“What will it take to get rid of you?” says Geralt.

“My, someone woke up on the wrong side of the – ground,” says Jaskier. “More than yesterday. Where are we off to next?” He puts his hand on Roach’s saddle. Geralt swats it away.

“I’m going north,” he says. “You go wherever you want.”

“Maybe I want to go with you,” says Jaskier. In a flutter of wings his dæmon comes to rest on the pommel of Roach’s saddle, and he can’t shoo her away. He wouldn’t dare put his hands near her.

They say of witchers that they have no souls. They say their dæmons are something else, something monstrous. They say they have no respect for the great taboo. When they see him mothers’ dæmons snatch their children away.

“You don’t,” says Geralt.

“You sound awfully sure,” says Jaskier.

You don’t know what you’re asking for, Geralt wants to say. He doesn’t know how to say it in a way the bard would understand. He glowers at the nightingale-dæmon until she takes the hint and flies back to Jaskier’s shoulder.

He feels Dag before he hears her, the padding of her feet on the ground as she emerges from the bushes, the soft sound of her breathing.

Jaskier nudges him. “You don’t fool me,” he says. “You’re a big pussycat really. Don’t think I didn’t hear her purring all last night.”

did u know that mountain lions are the largest cat than can purr! here is a video of one purring. it’s very cute but also a little scary.

“You’re imagining things,” says Geralt.

“I absolutely am not,” says Jaskier. “She was practically shaking the ground.”

At that Dag actually laughs, a short and bubbling laugh of real amusement. Geralt shoots her a look. Jaskier is looking at her too, looking at her curiously, startled by this, the first human sound he’s heard her make.

Looking away from them Dag stretches out on the ground, lounging as if she has nowhere to be. Jaskier tears his eyes away from her and says, “is she always a lion? It’s just –” His dæmon pecks him hard on the neck. “Ow – it’s just I heard witchers’ dæmons don’t settle.”

He fastens the straps on Roach’s saddle bag, and his hands still. “They aren’t unsettled,” he says. “They’re mutable.”

“I don’t follow,” says Jaskier.

“They settle,” he says. “But they keep the ability to change, after settling.”

“Ah, I see,” says Jaskier, nodding. “But is she –” His dæmon fastens her beak around his ear lobe and tugs. “Ow – ow – alright – there’s no need to be like that,” he mutters to her.

“I’m leaving,” Geralt says. “As I said. Go where you please.”

The bard and his dæmon follow him north.

Chimney smoke rises down in the valley. He doesn’t know the name of the town.

Dag is waiting for him, draped in the branches of a tree. She’s been scouting ahead, or perhaps she’s restless, or perhaps both.

She yawns, showing off her teeth. “Did you lose them?”

“You know I didn’t,” says Geralt. He can hear Jaskier’s voice behind them in the woods, and so can she.

Her tail swishes. “Why not?” she says, and he knows at once what she means.

bouncing off what I was saying above re ‘manifestation of a person’s inner voice’. I like taking opportunities to show that a person & their daemon are 2 halves of the same mind.

“You know why,” he says.

“Tell me.”

And she says it in that particular tone, a tone with steel in it, and he has to answer. “He’s soft,” he says. “He’s young. What he’s asking for will break him. He doesn’t understand.”

“Hm,” she says.

“It’s best he realises sooner,” he says.

“You don’t know how soft he is,” she says. “You don’t know him at all.”

“You’ve seen her,” he says. “That’s what he is.”

Tansy is delicate – pretty – fragile. She weighs almost nothing. She comes close by him as few dæmons will and every time he tenses for fear that he might touch her, without meaning to – hurt her – break her.

u know that post about the person whose boyfriend was afraid of holding babies in case he didn’t know his own strength and accidentally hurt them? thats geralt.

Dag’s tail is moving in the air, no longer swishing, flicking in sharp, angry jerks. “We both know that’s not how it works.”

He knows what she’s thinking. It hangs between them, unspoken. Another little bird dæmon they had once known, a pretty, charming robin-dæmon who had melted away like smoke before his eyes.

I’ve only seen 1 daemon fic featuring renfri (and I don’t think it was strictly a conventional daemon au) and it gave her a shrike daemon, which i do think is fitting. however as w wolf for geralt I find it a bit on the nose.

additionally, giving renfri a daemon has the potential to kind of, shift things wrt the ambiguity of her character, so you have a choice to make wrt whether you want to shift it more towards ‘she’s outwardly scary’ or ‘she’s outwardly innocent’ and I went for ‘outwardly innocent’, in part so I could do this specific parallel but also bcos I just preferred that vibe.

i went for european robin bcos it’s a very nice match for renfri’s aesthetic, and 1) I’m a slut for aesthetics and 2) helps to make sure readers will know who this is about.

He might say don’t. Don’t make me think of it. But he doesn’t. This thing has been unspoken between them for so many years. He doesn’t know what will happen if he breaks the silence.

They’ve been on the road for five – almost six weeks. He’s growing used to the chatter and the birdsong. Jaskier hasn’t complained – hasn’t complained much – hasn’t complained as much as he’d expected, not even when his feet bled in his fancy shoes. He’s generous enough to share the coin he gets from playing. Geralt’s had worse travelling companions.

Jaskier blunders out of the trees. “There you are,” he says. “Trying to shake us?”

“Yes,” says Geralt.

Jaskier snorts, as if that’s a joke. He looks out over the valley, the distant strings of smoke hazy in the twilight. “Do you think they have an inn?”

“I don’t care,” says Geralt.

“I want to sleep in a real bed,” says Jaskier. “And I want a bath.”

“I’m not stopping you,” says Geralt.

“It’s going to be freezing tonight,” says Jaskier.

“I’m used to it,” says Geralt.

Jaskier nudges him. “C’mon,” he says. “You could use a bath yourself. I don’t like to say so, but you are a very – unusual smelling person.”

“You’ve said so several times,” says Geralt.

“Have I?” says Jaskier innocently.

“Yes,” says his dæmon.

“So I have,” he says.

“Go and find an inn if you want,” says Geralt. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” says Jaskier.

“I’m being ridiculous?” says Geralt.

“Yes,” says Jaskier. “Alright, how about this. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I can buy my own drinks,” says Geralt.

“But I’m offering,” says Jaskier. “A kind and magnanimous offer, out of the goodness of my heart. And also I think it’s going to rain and I want to get in doors, so stop being ridiculous.”

“Hm,” says Geralt.

They go to the inn. It’s begun to rain by the time they reach the town. Tansy hides herself away within Jaskier’s cloak. Dag doesn’t follow them down the valley, preferring to find a dry spot in the woods, preferring to avoid prying eyes.

The inn is crowded with people sheltering from the rain; two more strangers with hidden dæmons don’t get a second look. The rafters are lined with bird-dæmons, safely away from the crowd. Sitting alone in his corner he watches their movements, the beating of their wings. There was a time Dag might have changed her shape and joined them. A space like this is never comfortable for a large dæmon.

reading back over this story I think it’s hm easy to think of Dag as the Emotionally Mature one of them but she’s the one whose making a choice to like... hide from Regular People and has been doing it habitually for a long time, either by changing her form or just leaving him alone.

Geralt & his daemon do this for a number of reasons I think, in part for practical reasons, but also because he doesn’t want people go be able to get a fix on what kind of person that he is, and on some level wants people to see him and be immediately repulsed by his not having a daemon... this is a self-destructive behaviour that Dag is an active participant in. stop it Dag you’re supposed to be the smart one.

There’s a bard playing, raising his voice to be heard over the crowd. He doesn’t sing as nicely as Jaskier. He’s made a poor choice of song, too, a quiet ballad, one of many about the beauty of the touch.

“Her hand upon my dæmon, the first in my life – it was like roses in the summer and I knew then she’d be my wife –”

1) i hate writing rhyming poetry and i am very bad at it. got away with it this time i hope bcos this is supposed to be kind of trite.

2) this is is what we call Planting. lol.

Jaskier pushes his way through the press back to their table. “As promised,” he says, sliding Geralt a mug of ale. Geralt grunts a thank you.

Jaskier sits, and regards him. Tansy flutters down to perch on the rim of his mug, dipping in her beak. Absently Jaskier strokes her downy back and Geralt tracks the tiny, intimate motion with his eyes. “Is this it, then?” says Jaskier.

one thing I was trying to convey throughout this fic is that spending time with Jaskier & Tansy is the first time Geralt has been around someone who has a Normal relationship with their daemon (as opposed to the ‘it’s complicated’ that geralt & dag have) for a long time and he’s very aware of the contrast.

“Is this what?” says Geralt.

“Is this how it goes?” says Jaskier. “It’s just that I can’t help but notice there hasn’t been a lot of witchering.”

“That’s not a word,” says Geralt, and takes a draft of ale.

“What?” says Jaskier. “Witchering?” Geralt grunts. “Maybe I’ll put it in a song and get people saying it.”

“Don’t you dare,” says Geralt, and Jaskier laughs a little.

“Really, though,” he says. “Is this it?”

“How many monsters do you think there are in the world?” says Geralt.

“How should I know?” says Jaskier. Still perched on his mug Tansy whistles along with the ballad. A moment later Jaskier’s fingers begin to tap along. “What d’you do when you can’t get any work?”

“I make do,” says Geralt.

“Hmm,” says Jaskier. Sensing he isn’t going to get any meaningful answers – or perhaps just bored – his gaze wanders to the bard. For a few moments he listens quietly. “Have you ever done it?”

“What?” says Geralt.

“You know.” Jaskier ducks his head in the direction of the bard.

“Been a bard?” says Geralt.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” says Jaskier, mock-stern.

“No,” says Geralt. “Not like that.”

He’s had another’s hands on his dæmon, more than once. He and Dag have sworn to themselves: never again.

“Hm,” says Jaskier. “No. Me neither.” Again he strokes Tansy, perhaps imagining it.

Tansy is still whistling along with the bard, giving the final notes of the ballad a few extra flourishes, and Geralt catches himself thinking that she and Jaskier would sing it better.

“I’ll be having the bath first – if you don’t mind,” says Jaskier.

“Hm,” says Geralt.

“Though don’t think I’m going to let you get away without bathing,” says Jaskier. “I know what you’re like, and, and your aroma is really starting to bother me.”

“Hm!” pipes up Tansy in agreement.

“Find someone else to annoy, then,” says Geralt. He sits on the edge of the bed, still in his armour. Jaskier is meandering about the washstand, unfastening his doublet, restless as ever.

He tosses his doublet onto the bed, and looks Geralt up and down. “You’re not planning on sleeping in that, are you?”

“Maybe,” says Geralt.

“What, do you think the inn’s going to get attacked in the night by – werewolves, or something?” says Jaskier.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” says Geralt.

“I can never tell when you’re joking,” says Jaskier, and unlacing his undershirt as he goes he wanders behind the screen.

“I don’t joke,” says Geralt.

“See?” Jaskier’s undershirt drapes over the top of the screen. Tansy, perched beside it, tugs at it with her beak, neatening it up. “There you go again.”

one of the biggest (& most underrated imo) challenges when writing a daemon au is characterising daemons... they’ve got to be like, recognisably the same person as the character, but at the same time ideally their own entity with their own personality. i found Dag came quite naturally, probably bcos Geralt is a character who definitely hides a lot of aspects of his personality, but Tansy was harder.

i imagined Tansy being very quiet with people who aren’t Jaskier & also very much the ‘put your clothes away don’t leave them all over the floor’ type of daemon.

Alone – or what passes for alone – Geralt begins to divest himself of his armour.

Jaskier’s trousers appear atop the screen. A moment later there’s a gentle splashing of water. A sigh.

geralt is definitely not thinking about the fact that jaskier is undressing. nope. he is not thinking about the fact that jaskier is naked in the same room as him. this is of no interest to him at all. He Does Not Care.

“This soap smells like pig fat,” he remarks.

“That’s because it’s made of pig fat,” says Geralt.

“Well. Yes,” says Jaskier.

Tansy is looking at him curiously from atop the screen. Caught staring, she opens her wings and drops out of sight to join Jaskier.

“Does Dag not come indoors?” says Jaskier.

“Now and then,” Geralt answers, before he has fully processed what Jaskier said. His hands still on his armour. “When did she tell you her name?”

this is something I do intend to cover in a future fic but I also don’t intend for it to be especially dramatic

“A few weeks ago,” says Jaskier. “I didn’t think much of it. Why? Do you mind?”

“Yes,” says Geralt.

Behind the screen water splashes. “Why on earth would you mind?” says Jaskier. Geralt doesn’t answer. “Well – I suppose that’s another one for the list of things I’ll never understand about you – like your sense of humour, and why you spend hours talking to your horse when you’ve a perfectly good dæmon.”

an extra dimension of geralt talking to his horse in this au is that he is used to having his daemon there.

Rising, Geralt begins setting his armour on the chair. “She isn’t always there,” he says.

“Well, yes, but it’s not as if she goes very far,” says Jaskier.

“Sometimes she does,” says Geralt.

In a sudden fluttering of wings, Tansy reappears atop the screen.

“How far does she go?” says Jaskier.

“As far as she pleases,” says Geralt.

A gentle sloshing of water. Tansy turns on her perch, peering down at her bard, something wordless passing between them. “Does it,” says Jaskier. “I mean, do you – I don’t know how to ask.”

“Spit it out,” says Geralt.

“Can you still feel her?”

“Yes.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No.”

so this scene is (obvs) a kind of a call back to That One Bath Scene in canon. this is the first time they’ve been hm ‘domestic’ together and it’s a little awkward, especially for geralt, who is not used to it. all of which is in contrast with how comfortable they are around each other later.

& this is the most frank (probably) conversation they have over the course of the entire fic and it happens when they are physically screened from each other. and also jaskier is literally naked while geralt is opening up to him. this is all very notable for obvious reasons I hope.

“I see,” says Jaskier, though Geralt doubts he does. It’s difficult for humans to get their heads around the way he and Dag experience the world. Most aren’t interested in trying.

geralt here actively ignoring the fact that jaskier is making an effort to understand

He hears the water moving, and the padding of Jaskier’s bare feet on the floorboards. His clothes are whisked back down from the screen and half a minute later he emerges, his hair towel-damp. “All yours,” he says.

Geralt sits in the still-warm water, and soaks, and listens as Jaskier putters about on the other side of the screen, getting ready to sleep, listens to the steady back and forth of his conversation with Tansy. He hums, and she whistles along.

uh so if you’re an introvert I imagine you’ve probably had the experience of being Alone and Unobserved for the first time in an uncomfortably long time... i have this experience every day when i leave work fjgksfkgjfg

tansy & jaskier talk p much non-stop when they’re (semi)alone

When at last, the water cold, he ventures out from behind the screen, Jaskier is on the bed, scribbling something down in his little book.

“You can have the bed,” says Geralt. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be stupid.” Jaskier shifts over towards the wall. “We’ll both fit. I don’t mind if you don’t.” He glances up from his writing. “Though just to warn you, I’m reliably informed that I kick.”

“He does,” says Tansy from the headboard.

The room smells like candle smoke, and pig fat. The scent of the outdoors still clings to them to their clothes, to Jaskier’s hair. He sleeps facing the wall, the warmth of his body pressed to Geralt’s side. Tansy sleeps with her head tucked beneath her wing. Geralt lies awake, listening to Jaskier’s breathing.

geralt is not affected by this situation at all. he is not even a little bit uncomfortably attracted. nope. nuh-uh.

they don’t ever share a bed in the show but i gather it’s a normal thing to do in the books so for the purposes of this fic, this is a thing that it later becomes normal for them to do.

He mumbles now and then in his sleep. And true to his word, he does kick.

Morning comes grey, but dry. They eat breakfast in the tavern. Jaskier chatters, about the weather, the food, the song he was writing in the evening. Geralt tunes him out, and lets his eyes roam over the other patrons. His gaze falls on a pair of old men smoking long pipes. They’re looking at him, at the absence beside him, the empty space he occupies. Caught staring they look away.

Jaskier pokes his arm. “Are you listening to me?” he says.

“Hm?” says Geralt.

“I said you’re even more sullen than usual this morning,” says Jaskier. “What’s got into you? Trouble sleeping?”

Geralt turns his attention to his porridge. “You kick.”

“I’m aware,” says Jaskier. “I did warn you. Well, I dare say –”

A woman is approaching their table, purposefully, stoically. Geralt recognises her attitude. Jaskier is savvy enough to guess.

“You’re the witcher?” she says, as if it’s a question. Her dæmon, a large, horned beetle, clings silently to her sleeve.

always hard w daemon AUs to strike a balance between making it clear to the audience that everyone in this world has a daemon & including superfluous information about daemons who aren’t relevant to the story. originally didn’t include this woman’s but then decided I didn’t have enough background daemons.

this is something i actually paid a lot of attention to while reading the secret commonwealth bcos i wanted to see how pullman handles it.

additionally I think insect daemons are under-represented in daemon au fic so I have been trying to get in as many as I can.

“Well, he’s a witcher,” says Jaskier. Geralt nudges him to be quiet.

She says, “my sister has a job for you.”

The wind is picking up. The day is getting thin. Ahead, on the hilltop, the dark outline of a hay barn, stark and flat against the grey sky.

He dismounts, and ties Roach to a tree.

“Is Dag not joining us?” says Jaskier.

“She comes and goes as she pleases,” says Geralt.

“What, did you two have an argument or something?” says Jaskier. Geralt grunts. “Did you? About what?”

“You,” says Geralt truthfully, and Jaskier laughs as if he’s made a joke.

Dag is in the air somewhere above them. Irritated with him as she may be, she hasn’t gone far, this time. She’s watching the valley, her keen hawk’s eyes searching for any untoward movement.

He starts to climb the hill. Jaskier makes to follow. Turning Geralt holds up a hand, halting him in his tracks. “Stay with Roach.”

Jaskier adjusts the strap of his lute. “I can handle it.”

“This won’t be pleasant,” says Geralt.

“Honestly,” says Jaskier. “How do you expect me to write about all this if you never let me see anything?”

“I don’t,” says Geralt.

“Anyone would think you didn’t want me to immortalise your deeds in song,” says Jaskier.

“I don’t,” says Geralt.

“It’s stifling to my creativity, not to mention rude,” says Jaskier. “And wholly unjustified. I have a strong stomach.”

Wavering, Geralt glances at Tansy, on Jaskier’s shoulder. She hms in agreement. He drops his hand. “If you’re sure.”

In the doorway of the hay barn Jaskier turns his face away and retches. “Oh gods,” he moans. “Oh heavens. Fuck me –”

“Go and wait with Roach if you want,” says Geralt.

One hand braced against the door frame, the other over his mouth, Jaskier looks at him. He takes his head from his mouth. He shakes his head. Tansy flutters in the doorway, from the shadow to the light, and resolves. She flies into the barn, up, up to the rafters, and there looks down upon the bodies.

This is where they have brought their dead, this most remote outpost of their village, with the spiders and the rats and the dust. They brought the bodies here, a dozen or more of them, and piled them up, meaning to burn them, meaning to burn this lonely place to the ground.

They’re unmarked. The air is thick with the smell of death. The most recent lies near the door, her eyes open, staring up at the roof. She’s young. Her hair is fair. She’s dressed in an apron, as if she’d just stepped out of her kitchen – to the water pump, perhaps – when she was attacked.

One death such as this, two, they’d bury. This many, in as many days, they know what haunts them, and they fear it like nothing else.

“What killed them?” says Tansy from the rafters.

“Hm,” says Geralt. He crouches to look at the dead girl, to be sure there are no marks on her, as the village healer had said. Taking off his gloves, he touches her face, tilting her head towards the light.

why does geralt take off his gloves. bcos later i had a scene where he’s washing his hands and then it was pointed out to me that he normally wears clothes and so wouldn’t need to. shush.

It isn’t his place to interfere with how these people treat their dead; but this isn’t right. There’s nothing to fear here. They are only dead. The danger, the thing that killed them, has passed. There’s nothing to be gained in consigning their dead to this bleak, anonymous fate.

A scuffling, above. Tansy moving on the rafter.

“Geralt?” says Jaskier. “What killed them?”

“Shh.”

Geralt glances up, at Tansy. She’s perched quivering on the rafter. “What is it?” he says.

“Something moved.”

tansy being a very hm fastidious sort of person translates to being quite perceptive

“I didn’t see anything,” says Jaskier.

“You weren’t looking,” says Tansy.

Geralt rises. He reaches for his sword.

The barn reeks of death. In the semi-darkness he had taken it for one of the bodies piled around it. It’s rising now to its feet, its movements stilted, unnatural. You might take it for a lumbering thing, a slow thing you could outrun. You’d be wrong.

Tansy takes flight, flashing in and out of the light from the doorway, and as she does so it begins to move, crawling forward over the piled bodies with the speed of a darting insect, snatching, grasping at the air above it. Jaskier cries out. “Run!” Geralt barks, raising his sword.

this whole scene was hard for a number of reasons... firstly i don’t know a lot about witcher monsters and spent a while trying to find one that fit the kind of scene I wanted before saying ‘fuck it’ and inventing my own

and secondly I don’t know about anyone else but uhh whenever i want a story to include an action scene in my head it’s just like ‘and then a fight happens!!’

+ w this one as well as planning out the fight i had the extra issue of, how it manages to get hold of Tansy which I. hope i explained satisfactorily.

The sight of silver gives the dæmophage pause. It halts, its eyes wide and staring, its shoulders heaving. It’s a fluid creature and it no longer needs its human disguise. Its limbs stretch, its spine bends at an unnatural angle, its slit nostrils flaring. It has no mouth. It has no need of one. Frost spreads from its fingers, coating its hands and arms, the bodies beneath it, the packed dirt floor.

He’s aware of laboured breathing behind him. He’s aware, suddenly, that Jaskier has not run. He risks a glance over his shoulder and sees him pressed to the far side of the door frame, gripping the wood with one white-knuckled hand. His other hand is held, clenched, to his chest. The colour has drained from his face.

“Run,” Geralt says. “Run!” Still Jaskier doesn’t move, and stepping back, not taking his eyes off the dæmophage, Geralt reaches blindly behind himself, finds Jaskier and shoves him backwards.

He resists, and in that resistance Geralt feels what has happened, feels it before Jaskier lets out a pained sound, before he says, choked, “Tansy.” For it’s not the resistance of one who doesn’t want to go; it’s the resistance of one tethered, of a tied-up dog trying to run from a fire.

The dæmophage is crawling forward again, one-handed. It’s holding something in its other hand, in a hand thick with ice. He can’t see what it is. He knows what it is. “Geralt –” Jaskier wheezes, and whatever he means to say next he can’t find the breath.

There are many vile ways to die, in the world. Few worse than your dæmon becoming meal to a creature like this, the life crushed from it, your soul slowly, torturously drained away.

He takes off the dæmophage’s arm first, the arm that holds Tansy, and its whole body jerks spraying dark blood across the walls, across the bodies. As its severed arm hits the ground its fingers fall open and he sees her, a fistful of icy brown feathers, but there’s no time to dwell on her, no time to dwell on if he was fast enough, if there is anything left to save. The dæmophage lashes out at him with its other hand, with its sharpening claws; he dodges, swings, and its arm falls to the ground, cut at the elbow.

It takes two strikes to cleave off its head. Its body remains half-upright, swaying, blood bubbling from its neck. He stands over it, sword raised, breathing hard. They’re fluid creatures. Half-shadow. You can never be sure.

It falls. It is still. He lowers his sword.

Behind him Jaskier falls heavily to the ground. Geralt turns to find him on his knees, shuddering all over, gasping, but still conscious, his eyes alert. He slumps forward, catching himself on his hands, and empties his stomach onto the dirt.

“Tansy,” he croaks. “Oh gods, Tansy –” He sees her, still in the dead creature’s hand, melted frost dripping from her feathers. He tries to rise. His legs won’t hold him.

She had been in its grip less than a minute. It must have felt like an age. Geralt is surprised he didn’t faint. Perhaps he’s made of sterner stuff than he looks.

so I don’t imagine this being as much a matter of Inner Strength as much as (as established early) Jaskier & Tansy having a very close and intimate bond, which in turn is a reflection of Jaskier being at ease with himself and the kind of person he is.

in short this isn’t a matter of jaskier being like, exceptionally brave so much as being like ‘hey! don’t you dare! fuck you!’

Stepping closer Geralt takes his arm and heaves. “I told you to wait with Roach,” he says. But the look Jaskier gives him, of mute, numb disbelief at his coldness, silences any further reproach.

He hauls Jaskier to his feet, but Jaskier tugs his arm from his grip. He wipes his face on his sleeve and staggers forward, falling to his knees once again beside her, reaching for her with shaking hands.

When he picks her up he lets out a gasp of relief – or terror – it’s hard to say which. She doesn’t respond to his touch. She lies limp in his hands.

Jaskier looks up at him, and voice unsteady he says, “she’s cold.”

He sets the barn alight. By the time he’s done it’s growing dark, and the wind has died away. He leaves it to burn on its hilltop, to be sure the creature is dead. He’ll tell the villagers to come back when it’s burned to the ground, to take the bones of their dead and bury them properly. They’ll do it, if not for the right reasons.

The barn is a red-orange blaze in the distance. Down in the valley there’s a chill in the air. He can see Jaskier’s breath, though it’s not cold enough for that. He hasn’t stopped shaking. Geralt builds a fire, so he can warm himself, and sets about fastening the dæmophage’s head to Roach’s saddle.

“Geralt, she’s still cold,” says Jaskier. He’s kneeling too close to the fire, Tansy clutched to his chest, hidden in his cupped hands. He’s stripped off his filthy doublet, dark with the creature’s blood. “Geralt. Geralt. She won’t wake up.”

i don’t know if it actually makes sense for jaskier to have got blood on him but listen i will take any excuse to have him take his doublet off bcos i’m just into it.

“She’ll wake up,” says Geralt.

“Are you sure?” says Jaskier.

“Hm,” says Geralt. He isn’t sure. You can never be sure. But if it had drained enough of the life from her that she was beyond waking, Jaskier’s mind would have broken. She’d be fading away. She was in shock. That was all. She’d wake.

If he’d been fast enough to kill it, but not fast enough to save her – he’d seen it before. He’d seen men and women, their minds broken into icy fragments, spending their last days terrified, in pain, alone. Unable to understand what had happened to them. Sometimes it was more merciful to let the dæmophage finish its meal, and kill them outright.

Not this time. He’d been fast enough.

“She – she won’t wake up, Geralt, she –” Jaskier breaks off in a ragged gasp. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Give her some time,” says Geralt. He fetches a blanket, and tosses it to Jaskier.

Jaskier doesn’t take it. “I can’t wake her up,” he says. “Geralt, what do I do?”

“Stop panicking,” says Geralt.

It’s no good. Jaskier understands what he’s saying, but he can’t keep his thoughts straight long enough to act on it. His mind is clouded. Where his connection to Tansy should be there’s nothing but confusion.

this was a fun opportunity to get a little bit into how the connection between a person and their daemon works :3

“I don’t know what to do,” he says. “I can’t think – Geralt, I can’t –”

His name falls again and again from Jaskier’s lips and it carries a silent plea. Help me. Do something.

He doesn’t know what to do. Or rather he knows what he ought to do, to offer comfort and warmth until this passes, but he doesn’t know how.

If he had seen it sooner. If he hadn’t let Jaskier talk him into taking him into danger. If he’d been quicker, smarter, harsher.

Tansy will get better. Jaskier will walk away from this.

double meaning in ‘walk away from this’ as in ‘survive this’ but also ‘will walk away FROM GERALT because of this’

Tension, behind him. He feels her long before he sees her, long before she ghosts into the firelight on owl-wings. She lands and with a soft rushing of air she’s herself again. Jaskier falls silent, startled at seeing her change, though he knew she cold.

“Jaskier,” she says. “Do you trust me?”

Half-watching, Geralt sees him nod.

“Put her down,” she says.

Jaskier hesitates. “But –”

“I know what I’m doing,” says Dag. “Put her down. Let me see.” Again he refuses, a wordless stammer of protest. “Jaskier. You’re panicking. Breathe deep. Put her down.”

Jaskier lays Tansy down. His hands are still shaking, but his breathing has slowed. That’s something. “What’s happening to her?” he says. “It hurts –”

He’d known it must. But Jaskier hadn’t said so, to him.

Dag noses at Tansy’s tiny, limp body. She licks her, once. “She’s just cold,” she says. “She’s just fainted. She’ll be fine.”

The back of one hand pressed to his mouth, Jaskier sobs.

“Shh,” says Dag. “Jaskier. Be calm.” Then she ducks her head forward, and touches him.

She touches her head to his face, nuzzling him, and at that contact a tremor goes through Geralt like a static shock. It’s only for a moment. Jaskier jerks away from her, as one would if a dæmon came too close by mistake.

this scene was inspired a bit by the part in The Subtle Knife where Pantalaimon physically comforts Will bcos he doesn’t have a daemon to comfort him. Obviously Jaskier does have a daemon, but he’s experiencing her being unconscious while he’s awake for the first time, making him essentially bereft of her.

He turns to look at Geralt, standing by Roach, no longer pretending he isn’t watching this. Their eyes meet. Geralt says nothing. Does nothing.

Jaskier turns back to Dag. Her eyes are lidded. Gingerly, Jaskier raises a hand to touch her. Geralt should cry out stop. He should go over there and drag them apart. He doesn’t.

Jaskier runs his hand over her head, the touch barely-there, just enough pressure to be felt through her fur. Geralt feels that touch like a gentle nudge somewhere within his ribs. It doesn’t feel bad.

He can feel, somehow feel birdsong in that touch. He can feel silk, and music, and laughter. It feels like the smell of perfume and candle smoke. Polished wood beneath his fingers. He’d had another’s hand on Dag before. It did not feel like this.

and THIS description of what touching (or being touched by) a person’s daemon would be like was inspired by how it’s depicted in Disciples of Apollo which is an a+++ daemon AU you should read if you like daemon stuff regardless of whether you’re a fan of M*A*S*H or not... please read it it’s so good.

He wonders what Jaskier feels, touching her.

i do intend to cover this. eventually. if i ever get around to writing more of this series.

Jaskier runs his hand over Dag’s head a second time. She purrs, low and deep in her chest. On the ground, Tansy gasps for breath.

my intention here is that Jaskier’s distress is part of what’s keeping Tansy from waking up, but then as long as she’s unconscious he can’t calm down, so by acting as a kind of stand-in daemon for him Dag is helping him Chill The Fuck Out sufficiently for Tansy to pull herself together.

“Tansy.” Jaskier’s hand falls from Dag’s head, and he reaches for her. “Oh gods, Tansy –” He cradles her in his hands. Her whole body is trembling.

“Jaskier,” she says, and at the sound of her voice all of his breath leaves him, his shoulders shaking, limp, weak with relief. He kisses her, holds her close by his face. Neither of them speak.

Geralt looks away. He meets Dag’s eyes, and she holds his gaze. He understands why she did it. He wouldn’t take it back. He’d do it again, and again. He still doesn’t like it. Dag turns away from him. She lies down beside the fire.

He tucks the blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders, and Jaskier murmurs thanks. He sits. He cleans his sword. The air smells like smoke. They shouldn’t linger here, in the dark. Jaskier’s breath is still fogging the air.

“We should go back to the village,” he says.

“Okay,” says Jaskier. Unsteady on his feet, he levers himself upright with one hand, the other cradling Tansy to his chest. “Okay.”

In the village lights are still burning in the windows. Geralt unties the dæmophage’s mouthless head.

“Should we,” says Jaskier, “talk about this?”

“Hm?” says Geralt.

“You know what I mean,” says Jaskier. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” says Geralt, and taking the creature’s head he marches away.

“I’ve heard of mixed signals,” calls Jaskier in his wake. “But this is ridiculous!”

am not actually 100% happy with this part, i wanted to get this line in but i couldn’t get it to mesh w the tone of the scene

The village is too small for an inn, but as well as coin the monster’s head earns them a bed for the night in the alderman’s house, and an invitation to dinner.

The monster’s head, and perhaps Jaskier; Jaskier, whose boyish smile and pretty dæmon had charmed the alderman and his wife at once, Jaskier, who had come back from the hunt pale, and shivering in a way they must recognise.

geralt thinks Tansy is very pretty. that’s just how his tastes run and he genuinely has no idea that most people don’t think nightingales are like, notably pretty.

There’s only one bed in the room they’re given but the alderman’s daughter makes up a cot. He tells Jaskier to take the bed. Jaskier doesn’t argue. Jaskier says nothing at all.

Since his outburst when they reached the village he’s spoken only to say yes and please and thank you. He lies upon the bed, staring at the ceiling, one hand stroking a slow, contemplative circle on his own stomach. Tansy sits on the pillow beside his head, plucking at his hair, grooming at him like a mother cat with a kitten.

Geralt washes the dæmophage’s blood from his hands. It has dried into the creases in his palms, under his fingernails.

“Will you come to dinner?” he says.

“Not very hungry,” says Jaskier.

Stretched out upon the cot, Dag raises her head. “You should eat,” she says.

Geralt sees her indoors so rarely. It takes him off-guard, sometimes, how large she is compared to human things. The alderman and his family must have been startled, to see him go on a hunt without a dæmon and return with one, but they had said nothing about it.

i did not mention that dag is in this scene before she speaks to emphasise that her presence indoors is unusual and unexpected. i am very smart.

She lies alert, tail flicking, watching over Jaskier.

His hands don’t feel clean. He washes them again. “You’re quiet,” he says.

“Hmm?” says Jaskier.

“Are you alright?” says Geralt.

“Since when do you care?” says Jaskier. “I thought you wanted me to shut up.”

“What will it take for you to give me some peace?” he had said, more than once.

“Hell or high water, probably,” Jaskier had answered, sunnily smiling.

If he hadn’t been fast enough. If the creature had taken something that could not be brought back – the light in his eyes. Warmth. A smile he’d never see again. Not like this. He didn’t want it like this.

once again double meaning re geralt thinking that jaskier is going to leave him because of this

He leans heavily upon the washstand. He breathes out. He’d been fast enough. Jaskier was shaken. That was all. He’d be fine.

“I’m just,” says Jaskier. “Thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” says Geralt.

“What’s it to you?” says Jaskier. A moment’s quiet, and he says, “why don’t elves have dæmons?”

this is my no 1 issue w this fic (which i am otherwise happy with), I really wanted to get this conversation in but wasn’t quite sure where to put it. originally i was going to include it much earlier, and have it be in response to meeting the elves, but i couldn’t get it to work with the pacing and i needed something for them to discuss here so. here it is. i’m not 100% sure it works. i think i understand why jaskier is bringing this up now but i’m not sure how to describe it properly.

The question jars him. It’s like something a child would ask. Why it’s on Jaskier’s mind now, of all times, he can’t imagine. “You know why.”

“I want to hear what you have to say about it,” says Jaskier.

“It’s the way the world is,” says Geralt. “Humans have dæmons. Elves don’t. Others don’t.”

“You’re not human and you have a dæmon,” says Jaskier.

“You know why,” says Geralt again. He can feel Dag’s stare on him, accusing, but he can’t help his frustration. He has the sense that Jaskier is goading him – or trying to catch him out in a lie. He doesn’t know what Jaskier wants from him.

“Do you think it’s lonely?” says Jaskier.

“Being an elf?” says Geralt.

“Mm,” Jaskier agrees.

tbqh it’s just occurred to me now as im re-reading it that part of this is jaskier obliquely asking geralt about his own feelings about having a daemon.

Geralt begins to dry his hands. “You can’t miss what you never had.”

“I don’t know,” says Jaskier. “I miss all sorts of things I’ve never had.”

Geralt waits for him to expand on that thought. But he’s lapsed back into silence. “Elves find dæmons distasteful,” he says. “It bothers them. Like seeing someone with their insides spilling out. They think half-elves born without dæmons are stronger for it.”

At that, mystifyingly, Jaskier laughs a little. “Hear that, Tansy?” he says. “Maybe I would have been stronger if I didn’t have you, like a half-elf. What do you think?”

gjlkghjklghdfj i had so much trouble w this line bcos my beta fully believed that this was jaskier professing that he was half elf so i had to re-write it and somehow at least one reviewer has still thought that was the implication... he’s 100% not half elf in this AU sorry. if i ever get around to writing the sequel it will be evident that he’s not half elf (or like if he is he has no idea)

Tansy clicks her beak. “I think you’d miss me terribly,” she says. “Even if you’d never had me.”

His hands are dry. He stops running the cloth over them, and sets it aside. “Dag’s right,” he says. “You should eat.”

“If you insist,” says Jaskier. “Where are we going next?”

Geralt turns to look at him. He’s gazing up at Tansy, running a finger over her neck. “After dinner?” he says.

“Tomorrow,” says Jaskier. Geralt says nothing, but his silence must speak for itself, for Jaskier looks at him and says, “don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.”

“Why?” says Geralt.

“I’m a glutton for punishment, I suppose,” Jaskier says. “Anyway. I’m working on a song and it isn’t finished.”

“Hm?” says Geralt.

Jaskier’s gaze drifts back to Tansy. “Still needs an ending,” he says.

i wasn’t sure how to end this story and this last line is very cheeky eheheh. i can do what i want.

thank you again for requesting!! i hope u enjoy this commentary. it has been a fun diversion. i’m very pleased w this fic and i love talking about daemon AUs. <3

#witcher daemon au

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writinglionqueen · 4 years

Text

Twenty Questions

Tagged by: @cowboyshit thanks sweetie!! @superrezzy00 and @junglecassidy thanks guys!!

What do you prefer to be called name-wise? I like going by Bri or Brianna. Usually my family calls me Anna...or their own fun nicknames

When is your birthday? August 12th

Where do you live? I live in the town just below the city of Omaha in Nebraska

Three things you are doing right now? Doing this, worrying about life, and thinking about writing fics

Four fandoms that have peaked your interest Wrestling and that’s the most recent and......technically the only one....since I don’t interact with other fan bases like I do that one. Like....I’m a fan of small things like Youtubers and little niches of life

How has the pandemic been treating you? Well, I was in college when it first started back in March. And then my school had the fun idea of first, going online which....as someone who has a hard time focusing and retaining information through online things, it wasn’t easy. After that I had to move twice in one week because of the pandemic, I had to move from my apartment-like dorm to a small dorm by myself for 4 days then I had to move across campus into a dorm meant to house 4 people all alone and....that was a struggle. I didn’t like being alone. Then I had to move back home in August and I finished my degree....got a seasonal job at a pumpkin patch and now I’m looking to find a job now while I’m in my own place and.....gosh....a lot of things could’ve gone better this year but....it wasn’t the pandemic’s fault or anything. But a lot of stuff during the pandemic that’s happened has been such a struggle for my mental health and everything....

A song you can’t stop listening to right now? Umm....tbh WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion...like.....idk it’s been on my mind a lot lol and I tend to have like a varying list of songs ranging from like ones in kids movies I grew up with to wrestling theme songs and even the early 2000′s songs I listen to....but WAP has been on my brain no thanks to the Drew video @jazzy-tzw made

How old are you? 22!

School, university, occupation, other? I just finished my degree in animal science now I’m currently trying to find a job to make ends meet but that’s been a little tough as of late....

Do you prefer heat or cold? Cold! Because at least I can add on layers if it’s cold. I hate the heat especially since my birthday is in August and it can get up to 103 to even a 110 degree index here.

Name one fact others may not know about you Oooh....idk what people don’t know about me....but....let’s go with the fact I have a birthmark on my back that looks like a kiss mark. Is that interesting enough? lol

Are you shy? Yes! Irl, I am very shy, I won’t ask someone a question unless I know them. Once I start getting to know people though, I will be more relax and more bubbly. And mainly with my friends. But if I have to socialize with someone, I will do it.

Preferred pronouns? She/Her/Hers

Biggest pet peeves? Someone beating around the bush when I’m directly talking to them. I had an art teacher in high school and she hated a painting I was doing and apparently had hinted she hated it until the day before it was due when she pulled me aside and told me I should change my piece (basically start over) and she gave me an extra week. It...was the worst feeling because she would’ve saved me time by being upfront (and she was the reason I never wanted to pursue art because her criticism wasn’t helpful) but I hate people who aren’t upfront, especially when I’m talking to them. I also hate when....people lead me on. I’m very obvious about my feelings and I’m upfront about it when I get to it....so feeling as if someone was dragging me along for a ride only to dump me off a cliff (The feeling) isn’t fun and I hate it. And I’m annoyed by people who want to “messy” when that just entails them to be fucking petty ass people who make fun of others for trivial things but can’t stand when it’s done to them. It happens so much in this fandom and the reason I stick to the friends I have on here. The whole idea of being “messy” to them is to laugh at other people’s expense by stirring a pot and then laughing when people get rightfully upset. JS

What is your favorite “dere” type? Oh I’ve seen this before but it’s a niche thing that I don’t know much about so I can’t answer it

Rate your life from 1-10; 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be. A solid.....6 or 7. Lately my life has been pretty fucking sucky in terms of luck and in terms of disappointment. I’ve had faced so much heartache this year and pain and just major disappointments that made me afraid of some things. But in general, my past wasn’t terrible but there are moments that have happened that I won’t forget and aren’t the best....a solid 10 would mean I lived a comfortable life and....I can’t say it’s been a 10.

What’s your main blog? This one. I have 2 blogs (technically 3 since one is a backup in case I get the case of people reporting my blog for nothing again). The last one I had was basically when I used to be in the 1D fandom and this one is the only one I actually post from.

Is there something people need to know about you before becoming friends? Um....I kinda...like people who won’t flake on me....I’ve had a lot of people do that in the past which is why I’m particular to that sorta thing. I have a certain way of differentiating a “friend” vs “best friends” and that distinction means so much to me....so....to betray that level of connection or even.....be offput by it (meaning the feeling isn’t as mutual [and you say it to my face]) then you won’t be a part of my life....and that’s....just how I am. I’ve had a lot of fake friends (in the sense that my friendship to them meant nothing or not even mean to treat me with like kindness or whatever) so I’m not here for that anymore.

tagging: @jazzy-tzw @kalliravenne @thatnerdwriter @flawlessglamazon @gold--gucciempress

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blackcatkita · 4 years

Text

A Not So Blue Christmas

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Bryce x MC (Kayla)

Word Count: 2925

This is my contribution to the 12 Days of Fictmas- 2019 edition and true to form, I am posting this at the literal eleventh hour. I was assigned “Blue Christmas” by the late and great Elvis Aaron Presley (may he rest in peace). Big thank you to @leelee10898 for hosting this event and wrangling us all and to @darley1101 for creating the awesome moodboard you see below. I hope you like it and happy holidays!

A Not So Blue Christmas

When Kayla matched at Edenbrook, some 980 miles from her hometown of Chicago, she knew there would be things she would miss out on. Her proud Irish family was huge and freakishly close; three brothers and one sister with Kayla smack in the middle, five aunts, three uncles, twenty-six first cousins and an absolute lunatic of a grandmother to round it all out. And that was just on her dad’s side. Birthdays, holidays, graduations, anniversaries; they were spent together whether you wanted to be there or not. Going away to college had been a blessing. For the first time, Kayla got to be seen as her own person instead of Sean and Connor’s little sister but she would be lying if she said she didn’t miss her family. The last time she saw them was back in June when she took Bryce home to meet everyone. Well, almost everyone. No one should have to be subjected to the entire clan on the first meeting, no matter how confident and easy-going her boyfriend was.

It was worth it though. She’d wanted to be a doctor for as long as she could remember and working with Ethan Freaking Ramsey on the diagnostics team was a dream come true. Her career fed her constant thirst for knowledge and allowed her to help people so she didn’t mind not being there for every little thing her family deigned worthy of celebration. Christmas was different. Christmas in the Donovan house was a huge deal.

The house would be so full it was fit to burst, food, candy, and cookies as far as the eye could see. Her oldest brother Sean and his wife Meghan sniping and snarking at each other, everyone spoiling the hell out of her niece because she was the first child, seeing what new bimbo was Connor’s latest flavor of the week because he was too stupid and too much of a playboy to find a nice girl, Gran handing out shots of whiskey and hitting on any poor soul whose only mistake was dating or marrying one of the Donovan girls; she’d had a field day with Bryce. Her dad and uncles escaping to the garage or basement, betting on how long after dinner it would take her mom to throw in the towel and switch from wine to liquor; Kayla was going to miss it all.

But Boston provided joys of its own; a group of friends she considered family that included the most supportive boyfriend the world had ever seen. Working as much as they did with no way in hell of getting off on a holiday meant none of them would be going home but that didn’t mean they would spend Christmas alone. Luckily, their apartment was spacious enough to house everyone for the open house party she and her roommates planned, though Kayla wondered why hosting always fell to them. Ethan had an even better apartment and you didn’t see him inviting anyone over. Rude.

“And, voila!” Kayla exclaimed from her post at the kitchen island. The cheese tray she put together looked damn good if she said so herself. Cheese ball in the middle with alternating yellow and white cheeses surrounding it in a pinwheel pattern. Yep, damn good indeed. “Sienna, where do you want the cheese tray?”

“Umm…” Sienna didn’t look up, too preoccupied with arranging upside-down raspberries on top of the chocolate ganache cake she made. “The banquet table by the window maybe? There’s more room for people to mill around over there.”

Kayla looked around, finding only empty space near the windows. “Banquet table?”

Glancing up, Sienna shook her head and went back to the raspberries. “Bryce!”

“Yo!” he called out.

“Where’s that banquet table you said you’d set up?”

“Oh, shit,” he laughed before bringing the table in from the living room where he and Elijah had been fiddling with the tv for the last half hour. “Sorry, ladies.”

“What are you even doing in there?” Kayla asked as Bryce unfolded the legs and flipped the table right side up.

“Helping Elijah with the surround sound,” he answered simply, taking a folded red tablecloth from the kitchen table and spreading it over the one he just set up.

“Do you really need to be doing that right now?”

Shrugging in response, he sauntered over, gave Kayla a quick peck on the lips while squeezing her ass, then snatched a piece of cheese, popping it in his mouth before going back into the living room.

Minutes later the front door opened with a thump and Jackie’s voice rang out, “Oh, hell no. You two don’t get to do whatever it is you’re doing in here while we do all the work. It’s all hands on deck so get your asses up and help. And before you say it, no, Lahela, I don’t care that you don’t technically live here. God knows you’re here enough it’s like you do. You can start by putting these bags of ice on the balcony.”

Eyebrows raised, Kayla slowly turned to grin at Sienna, finding her covering her laugh with a hand plastered to her mouth. “Remind me to buy Jackie a pony for her birthday.”

“Or a bottle of tequila,” Sienna giggled.

Kayla picked up her glass of red wine, waiting for Sienna to do the same before clinking their glasses together. “Hear. Hear.”

An hour later, people were trickling in. The cold food was moved to the kitchen table and the hot to the banquet table because that’s where the outlets were, the bar was set up, holiday music was playing and Kayla was mingling in a fitted midnight blue dress that was both sexy and elegant.

“I’m loving this party even more than your last one, Donovan.” Zaid’s tone was as dry as ever, expression impassive as he bopped to the beat of ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Oh, thanks! It was a team effort.” A knock sounded at the door and Kayla excused herself before opening it with a smile.

“Rookie.”

“You came!” Kayla gasped, putting on an air of shock with her hand pressed to her chest. “I never thought I’d see the day!”

“This is for you.” Standing stiffly in the doorway, he thrust a bottle of red wine into her hands. “I know you like red.”

“I do, thanks, Ethan.” Considering how reluctant he looked, she grabbed him by the wrist and tugged him into the room. “Come on, no one’s gonna bite you. Can I get you anything to drink? Bryce is supposed to be playing bartender but he’s fallen in love with my tv.”

A brief look of confusion flashed across Ethan’s face before he shook his head, probably deciding he didn’t care enough to ask. “What do you have?”

Kayla shrugged. “Everything? I can make you a brandy old fashioned or cranberry mule. Those are our signature drinks.”

“Old Fashioneds are generally made with bourbon.”

“Not in the Midwest,” Kayla smirked. “It’s really big in Wisconsin.”

“You’re from Chicago…” Ethan shook his head again. “What’s a ‘cranberry mule’?”

“Bryce,” Kayla called out. “What’s in the cranberry mule?”

Bryce’s voice came from by the tv, only now he had the thing turned to the side. “Four ounces ginger beer, four ounces cranberry juice, two ounces rum and the juice of half a lime.” His head popped up, looking at her over the top. “Put that in a shaker then pour over ice and garnish with a slice of lime and some cranberries. Make sure you use a copper mug.”

“Ok, seriously, what are you doing over there?!”

“I’m almost done.” Grinning, Bryce shot her a wink and ducked back down.

Rolling her eyes, Kayla turned back to Ethan. “Don’t ask because I have no idea what he’s doing.”

“I wasn’t going to. I don’t care.”

“Nice,” she stated, raising her eyebrow and pressing her lips into the tiniest pout. “Well? Your drink, Dr. Ramsey?”

“I’ll take Scotch if you have it.”

“Uh… if we do it’s probably not very…” Kayla grimaced, leading Ethan to the bar across the room. “Oh, wait! I think Landry might have left some here.” Reaching her destination, Kayla ducked down and pulled a bottle from the lower shelf. “Ha!” she exclaimed as she stood up. “Score one for the jackass.”

“Babe! Kayla!” Bryce shouted out over the noise. He smiled when she looked over, then his gaze seemed to move past her and he gave a subtle nod. “Can you help me with something quick?”

“Be right there!” she replied as she splashed some Scotch in a glass. She handed it to Ethan and gave him a little push. “Go have fun. Socialize. Be normal.” Ignoring his look of disdain, she moved back into the living room. “What’s up?”

“I need you to sit on the couch,” Bryce instructed, turning the tv back the right way.

“Why?”

“Because I need to make sure the angle is right.”

“Angle for what?”

Bryce’s eyes widened, brows raised to give her a look that said, ‘just do it’.

“Fine.” The couch that had been filled with various guests all night was miraculously empty and Kayla sat down carefully so she didn’t flash everyone with the new lingerie Bryce had given her. That show was for his eyes only. “Are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”

“Stop asking questions,” Bryce laughed as the conversation around them grew quieter. “Elijah?” The music cut out and the lull in conversations spread through the apartment. “Ok, now push the input button on the tv remote.”

Brow furrowed, Kayla reached for the remote on the coffee table. Whatever he had planned, it seemed like most of the people in attendance were aware of it. If it turned out to be a slideshow of embarrassing photos from throughout the year or a video of her drunk ass singing karaoke, Bryce was a dead man. All eyes on her, Kayla pressed the button and the tv lit up. She screamed, both of her hands flying up to cover her mouth as tears sprang to her eyes. Before her, her family sat crowded together, enough of them they filled all seventy inches of the screen.

Her dad Sean leaned forward, squinting at the camera in front of him. “Is that it? Can she see us now?”

“Oh my god, Dad.” Squished against him, Kayla’s nineteen-year-old sister Brianna rolled her eyes. “Why do you think she’s screaming?”

“Shut up, you’re all ruining it!” Gran scolded from where she was wedged between Kayla’s dad and her brother Owen. “On the count of three… one… two… three…”

“Nollaig Shona, Kayla!” Everyone shouted as they smiled and waved, not exactly in sync but close enough.

“Nollaig Shona, everyone!” Kayla returned the sentiment, smiling and waving back. She looked around the room at her smiling friends and colleagues. “That’s Irish for ‘Merry Christmas’,” she explained. Her lip began to quiver and she looked at Bryce, waving him over as her eyes flooded with tears. “Get over here.” She felt her face crumple and pressed her palm over her lips as her boyfriend finally came over, looking uncharacteristically subdued. Sitting beside her, he slung his arm around her shoulders and she turned toward him, hugging him around his waist as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, trying to choke back her quiet sobs.

“Hey, everybody.” Bryce’s voice was tight as he gently rubbed her back. He cleared his throat and when he spoke again, she could hear the smile in his tone. “Merry Christmas. Thanks for helping me out with all of this.”

The comforting movement of his hand didn’t cease as he continued to chat with her family and when she was sure the tears had stopped flowing, Kayla peeled herself off him. “Well, my make-up is officially ruined,” she laughed, swiping at her cheeks. Sienna appeared out of nowhere and with tears in her eyes, thrust a wad of Kleenex into Kayla’s hands. “Thanks, Sienna.” Kayla did her best to clean the mascara from beneath her eyes then smiled, shaking her head in awe. “I just can’t believe you’re all in front of me right now.” Her eyes watered again.

“That man of yours is more than just a pretty face, Kayla,” her sister-in-law Meghan said.

“And what a face it is,” Gran added, giving the most exaggerated wink possible.

“Oh, don’t I know it, Gran,” Kayla agreed. “Great hair, too.”

“And a body to boot!” Gran slapped her hand on her skinny little knee. “Bet he’s a right stallion in the sack. You young ones get all the action these days.”

“Okay! Enough of that!” her big brother Sean shouted, clamping his hands over his four-year-old daughter’s ears while Kayla’s dad dropped his head in his hand mumbling something Kayla couldn’t make out. If she had to guess, it was ‘Lord in heaven’.

“Sorry, Sean,” Kayla laughed. Her eyes roamed the faces in front of her; her dad, grandma, her sister and two of her brothers, a few aunts, and uncles and some cousins. “Hey, where’s mom and Connor?” Of all her siblings she was closest to Connor, they were best friends on top of being brother and sister and her mom was her biggest cheerleader. No way would they not be a part of Bryce’s surprise.

“Oh, I imagine they’ll be coming in the door any minute now,” her dad said with a twinkle in his eye. “We’ll let you get back to your party, Punkin. Don’t forget to call us now.”

“I won’t, Dad,” Kayla promised. “It was great seeing you guys and I love you all so much!”

“We love you too, Kayla!” they all shouted back, waving again as they said goodbye.

“Now how the hell do I turn this damn thing off…” her dad grumbled, looking down at his remote before the connection ended.

As the music started and the party resumed, Kayla turned to Bryce, who was looking mighty proud of himself. She grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him to her, planting a kiss on his lips. The doorbell rang and she pulled away. “Duty calls but later, you’re mine.”

“I mean, we can just kick everybody out now,” he teased, leaning in for another kiss. She laughed, giving him a swat on the shoulder but he snuck one anyway. “Get the door, babe. I’ll even come with you.”

“Ah, now that your ruse is over you’ll join the festivities?”

“Something like that.” Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to her feet. When they reached the door, he stopped her a few feet away with an arm around her waist then stepped forward to open it himself.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kayla shouted when she saw who was on the other side.

“Kayla Donovan!” her mom Erin scolded. “Such language!”

“And on Christmas too!” her brother Connor added in a mock scandalized voice with his eyes wide and a palm pressed to his forehead.

Her mom laughed, holding her arms out wide. “Surprise!”

The initial shock had worn off and Kayla launched herself into her mother’s arms. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She held tight for a moment, then turned to Connor.

“Brat,” he greeted.

“Jerk.”

Laughing, he grabbed Kayla around the waist and lifted her off her feet, bouncing a few times before setting her back down. “Damn, it’s good to see you, Kay. Bryce,” Connor nodded as Bryce turned away from the warm hug her mom had given him and held out his hand, doing that weird handshake-shoulder clapping thing guys did. “Good to see you again, too. Thanks for inviting us.”

“Let’s get you guys a drink. There’s a ton of people you have to meet.”

Heart full and cheeks sore from smiling, Kayla paraded her mom and brother around the room, introducing them to all of the people who had become so important to her. When Sienna eventually dragged them to the kitchen to eat, Kayla turned to Bryce, smiling up at him as she looped her arms around his neck. “You.”

“Me.” His warm hands slid around her hips, pulling her tighter until they were pressed against his.

“You’re the best boyfriend in the entire world.”

“I know.” An easy smile spread across his cheeks. “Handsome, too.”

“And the smartest, most thoughtful,” Her words were punctuated by quick kisses. “most supportive, sweetest, the best lover, the…”

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush,” he laughed, then raised his eyebrow as his lips settled into a cocky smirk. “You’re not wrong, though. I am pretty amazing.”

“And so humble,” she laughed with him. Gazing into his eyes, she knew she was exactly where she was supposed to be. Bryce was home, no matter where it was. “Seriously, Bryce, this was… I can’t believe you did all this.”

“I almost didn’t think I would pull it off,” he admitted. “The Portal thing was supposed to be here weeks ago but it got lost somewhere in Ohio and just came today. Then your dad couldn’t get his to work and threatened to throw the thing in the lake, and now today your mom and Connor’s flight was delayed by like four hours. I’m surprised I survived.”

As he spoke, Kayla’s smile grew wider and when he finally stopped talking, she pulled him down to press a slow kiss to his lips. She pulled back, just enough to lock her eyes with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Merry Christmas.”

#open heart fanfic #Bryce x mc #choices open heart #12 days of fictmas #im super proud of myself I got this done on time #not even gonna lie

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nineteenseventeenbarnes00 · 5 years

Text

LOVE IS A MERRY-GO-ROUND

Pairing: HighSchoolAU! Pietro x reader Genre: i don’t even know tbh Word Count: 1600 Warnings: Age-bending - they’re like in high school here which might be a bit weird for y’all so just a heads up!

-PIETRO'S POV-

-Freshman Year -

My jaw dropped open as I watched her move to the beat of the music. We were currently sitting in the large auditorium of SHIELD High, attending the freshmen orientations.

Before graduating middle school, I had been offered scholarships to join the track and field team from SHIELD High and HYDRA High but ultimately decided on SHIELD after my sister, Wanda, chose to attend SHIELD. Besides, most of our friends in higher years are studying in SHIELD too.

"Pietro, shut your mouth, you're drooling," Clint hissed from my left, nudging me with his elbow. I quickly closed my mouth, not realizing I had it open the whole time. I touched the sides of my mouth to see if I was drooling.

"Who are you staring at?" Wanda asked from my right after seeing my exchange with Clint, curious as to why I was staring so intently at a group of sweaty boys and girls hand standing, head spinning and all those sorts on stage.

"Her. The one in the middle?" I pointed at the girl who was preparing to do a backflip. Her hair was tied into a messy bun, a snapback over it. She barely had any make-up on and had sweat running down her forehead, but she still looked stunning.

"Oh, Y/N L/N? You're in the same year. The dance team tried recruiting her since she was in middle school, and she just training with them in the summer break." Clint explained. He was a couple of years above us, and of course, he would know the people in school.

Y/N L/N… So that was her name…

"Dude, you are so not her type," Clint mumbled.

-Senior Year-

I tapped my foot loudly against the floor as I saw my friends approaching me by my locker. I darted my eyes back and forth my friends and the wall, debating on whether or not I should tell them about my tiny crush. Okay, fine, it wasn't tiny. I've had a crush on her for 3 years now, but still - she barely knows I exist.

Sure, we were both from different sports in school - she was in dance while I was in track, but our teams often practiced in the same place. We would be running around the oval, and the dance team would be rehearsing in the middle of the oval.

I've probably had 100,000 chances to talk to her since our practices ended around the same time, but I chickened out every time. Every. Single. Time.

There was a day wherein she made a move that caused her cap to fly toward the track, right to the spot where I was running towards, but I saw her coming, and in panic, my dumb ass decided to turn around and run the other direction. I got a scolding from the coach for that.

Only Wanda and Clint know I like her, but besides the two of them, no one else knows. I've kept it a secret for 3 long years. I think my friends deserve to know why I haven't dated anyone since freshman year, Nat was starting to get worried. Luckily, everyone was visiting their old high school today. Steve, Tony, Bucky, Sam, Clint, and Nat had graduated a couple of years ago but decided to drop by today to catch up with Wanda and me.

I stared at my friends as they stood approached me, and before any of my friends could say hi, I quickly blurted out four words.

"I like Y/N L/N."

There was a dramatic 5-second pause then they all started laughing. Minus my sister, Clint, and Steve, who gave me sympathetic looks.

"Are you high?" Sam asked as Bucky snickered. What friends I have.

"I've never even seen you in the same class as her, let alone talk to her," Bucky said. "What brought this on?"

I let out a big sigh, ready to tell them everything. After telling them the whole story, I braced myself for all the teasing.

"Repeating Sam's question, what are you on?" Tony asked with a chuckle.

"Three years is a long time, Speedy," Steve mumbled. He would understand how I feel, he's been in love with Peggy since the 6th grade.

"Pietro, you idiot! If you really - as in really, REALLY like her, go talk to her," Nat exclaimed, shaking my shoulders, practically shouting in my face. I looked behind her to see my other friends standing behind her, nodding.

"Suck it up, man. You're a dude." Bucky added, shaking his head in disapproval.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Clint mouthed in confusion. I sighed. Why was this so easy for them?

"Oh, lookie. Here she comes!" Tony exclaims, pointing at the group walking down the corner.

"Don't point!" I quickly grabbed Tony's wrist, pulling him away from the main corridor, everyone else following behind us.

"Seriously, though, brother," Wanda mumbled. "It's finals week and right after this week is graduation season."

"Yeah!" Nat exclaimed, backing her up. "And we all go to college, meaning we separate and then your chance with lady dancer goes bye-bye."

"Whoa, chill, girls," Clint told them, laughing and the other guys chuckling behind him.

"Still," she sighed. "Do you plan on telling her?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"Okay, forget that question," Steve spoke. "The real question is, why do you like her?"

I thought about it for a second… There was always alluring about her in my eyes. There was always this sense of contentment just seeing her smile during practices - I didn't care if we didn't know each other - just knowing that I can see her nearly every day was enough for me. Her smile, her patience when teaching and learning routines, I loved those aspects of her the most.

"It's simple," I started with a smile, looking out the window. "She's an angel."

Well, graduation day finally rolled by. And no, I haven't talked to Y/N yet.

We all sat down in our respected seats by class. Wanda sat beside me since we had the same last names.

As the principal was making his… Interesting speech, Wanda poked my side. I gave her a look, wondering why she had a mischievous grin on her face that kinda resembled a Cheshire cat.

"I have her number," she whispered, wiggling her eyebrows. "Well, technically, Sam had her number and gave it to me."

I looked at her in confusion. What the hell was she gonna do with her number?

"You're…?" I asked.

"I'll text her! We're friends," she told me.

"You two are friends?" I asked her in disbelief.

"Well, on Facebook." she sheepishly admitted. "But anyway, I'll text her, telling her I wanna talk to her about something, but instead of me, you'll be there."

I stared at her weirdly. My sister is smart, but in this situation, I don't know if I'm supposed to thank her or facepalm.

After getting our diplomas and receiving our awards, we were finally dismissed. Our friends were here for our graduation, and before I could walk away to start heading home, Nat grabbed my arm.

"Oh no, you don't, mister," she smugly said, yanking my arm back towards the ground. "Wanda told me what's happening." I looked back at my friends and it seemed like Wanda had told the whole gang.

"You're finally gonna be a man!" Clint dramatically wailed, jokingly sniffling into the sleeves of his button-up shirt.

Steve smiled at me, happy for me, I guess? In the background, I could see Sam furrowing his eyebrows as if he was trying to recall something.

"Oh! Here she comes!" Nat mini-yelped. She quickly ushered everyone away to the other side of the room.

My heart was beating fast, faster than when I finished my runs. I was Y/N walking towards me, poking her head around, probably looking for Wanda.

Here goes nothing.

"Umm, hi?" I said out loud as she approached where I stood. I could see Nat and Clint peeking out from under the refreshments table behind her.

"Oh, hi!" she greeted back, smiling at me before looking around again.

"Are you looking for Wanda?" I asked, feeling my cheeks turning hot. When did talking become so hard? I literally

"Yeah! You're Wanda's brother, Pietro, right?"

LORD. SHE KNOWS MY NAME.

"O-Oh! Yeah…" I shyly mumbled.

"Well, have you seen Wanda?" Y/N asked, smiling and curling some of her hair behind her ear. I can die a happy man today. "She told me to meet her here…?" she chucked, unsure.

"Actually, I'm the one who-" I began but got cut off by the sound of her phone ringing.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she apologized, taking her phone out her pocket and picking it up. "Please give me a second."

"Hello? Oh, baby!" she greeted over the phone, a huge smile found its way to her face as she listed to the other person talk.

Wait. Baby…?

"Okay! See you in a second, Loki! Love you!" she chirped and hung up. She turned back to me with an apologetic smile. "I'm really sorry my boyfriend is waiting outside. He just arrived from the UK and I need to go. Please tell Wanda I'll call her tonight!" she explained and apologized again before running towards the exit.

What…?

"Oh, shit," Bucky mumbled, coming out of nowhere with everyone else.

"Didn't see that coming…" Tony muttered.

"DAMMIT," Sam yelled out of nowhere. "I knew I was forgetting something!"

"What?" I asked no one in particular. What the hell just happened?

THE END

_______________________

A/N I swear this is like borderline a joke but I wrote this in 2016 and thought it would be cute to post on here. :’)

#pietro x you #pietro x reader #the avengers #pietro maximoff #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver x you #age of ultron #quicksilverxreader #pietroxreader #pietroxyou

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percussiongirl2017 · 5 years

Text

See Who, C U

Title: See Who, C U Part 1

Pairing: Former Dean x Reader, Sam, Castiel, Jack

Summary: A simple vengeful spirit case takes an unexpected turn when someone from the WInchesters’ past shows up.

Word Count: 1236

Warnings: None really. Just setting up for part 2. A smidge of angst at the end. Future warnings: Dean being a dick, angst, fluff

A/N: Hey look I’m posting something. This has been sitting in my WIP folder for a while. The title is actually a cheer we have at my college. I’ve modeled the school after mine. Any and all feedback would be greatly appreciated! Part 2 is already in the works.

Buy Dean’s Scent Here!

******

Dean pulled the Impala into the first empty spot he saw and cut the engine. He and Sam climbed out and stopped at the end of the hood to survey their surroundings.

“Anything like Stanford?” Dean joked.

Sam shook his head and laughed. “No. This is a lot smaller than Stanford. Let’s go check out the library and see if we can find anything.”

Dean followed Sam down the sidewalk as they passed the main building and headed for the library. Dean had a feeling that they were dealing with a vengeful spirit, but they couldn’t confirm anything until they checked the school’s archives. After flashing their badges, they were led to the back of the library. They passed several students studying in groups or working on their laptops. Dean caught a glimpse of someone but was ushered along by Sam until they reached the archive room.

“Did you see that girl back there?” Dean asked.

“No.” Sam said while pulling boxes down. “I was talking to the librarian about the history of the school. Why?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. She looked familiar.”

The duo sat down and started reading through the books in front of them, but Dean couldn’t concentrate. He kept thinking back to the girl he had seen on the way in. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her name or where he knew her. He shut his book and stood up.

“I’ll be back.” He announced.

Sam nodded as he walked out. Dean retraced his steps and stopped at the edge of the entrance to one of the large rooms. He peered in and saw her sitting at a table in the corner. Her hair was blue and purple and she was dressed in a maroon and white polo with black jeans. There were papers and books scattered across the table as she typed on her laptop. Her head bobbed along to whatever she was listening to and she periodically checked her phone. Dean tried to think of where he had seen this girl, but his memory betrayed him. He was about to turn around and leave, but he saw her grab something from her bag. She placed a tan, leather bound notebook on the table before looking for a pen. Dean’s memory suddenly clicked. He turned quickly and went to find his brother.

“Hey, Sammy.” He said as he entered the room. “She’s here.”

“She who?” Sam said before pausing. “Y/N?”

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed. “Dude, she goes to school here.”

Sam scoffed. “No way. We haven’t seen or heard from her in years.”

“I’ll prove it.” Dean smirked.

Sam followed Dean and stopped as they observed the sight before them. Jack was sitting across from her and asking questions. Castiel quickly came up to the boys.

“Have you seen Jack?” He asked. “I was asking the librarian a question and he was gone when I turned around.”

Sam pointed to where Jack was sitting.

“Is that Y/N?” Cas asked.

“That’s what I said.” Dean nodded.

“Does she know we’re here?” He asked.

Sam shook his head. “No.”

The trio tried to listen in to what Jack was saying, but they were interrupted by another student.

“Are y’all here about the murders?” She asked.

“Yes.” Dean said taking the lead. “Do you know anything?”

The girl shrugged before nodding in Jack and Y/N’s direction. “I wouldn’t rule her out.”

“Why?” Sam asked.

“She’s probably the weirdest person on this campus.” The girl started. “She believes in all this supernatural crap and she’s got this strange symbol tattooed on her chest. No one knows anything about her. She’s not exactly social. I wouldn’t be surprised if she killed somebody. She seems like the type.”

Sam coughed. “Umm, thanks. We’ll look into her.”

*Meanwhile*

You were writing down everything you knew about the case when you felt someone standing over you. You quickly closed your journal and looked up. Standing there was a guy who looked to be in his 20s. His hair was a darker brown but had a few stray blond hairs. His eyes reminded you so much of Ca…no. You shouldn’t be thinking about them. You shook your head and pulled your headphones off.

“Can I help you?” You asked.

“Hi.” He smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” You laughed. “Take a seat.”

You moved your books and things around, so he could sit across from you.

“How did you get your hair that color?” He asked.

You ran a hand through your blue and purple hair that received more than its fair share of questionable glances every day.

“I bleached my hair.” You started. “Then I put blue and purple dye in it.”

“Why?” He asked. He seemed confused.

“Because I felt like it.” You shrugged before changing the topic. “You don’t go to school here, do you? I’ve never seen you around.”

“I’ve never been to school.” He said with a straight face.

You snorted. “You sound like an old friend of mine. What’s your name?”

“Jack.” He grinned. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You said. “Nice to meet you, Jack. So, if you don’t go to school here, why are you here?”

“My associates and I are investigating the murders.” He stated.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re a cop?”

“FBI.” He said while pulling a badge out of his jacket.

You had to suppress a smile when you looked at his badge. It was very obvious that it was fake. You leaned back and crossed your arms.

“Are you really FBI or a hunter with a crappy badge?” You asked.

Your question stunned him as he tried to think of an answer.

“It takes a hunter to know a hunter, Jack.” You explained. “Don’t worry about this case. I’ve got it handled.”

“We could help.” He insisted. “Castiel and…”

“Castiel?” You cut him off. “You know Castiel?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“So, you know the Winchesters then?” You added.

“Yes.” He said. “I consider them my family.”

“Family.” You scoffed while packing up your stuff. “Do yourself a favor Jack and run. Get as far from them as you can.”

“Why?” He asked as you shouldered your bag.

“Family means nothing to the Winchesters.” You spat.

You turned to leave the area and you came face to face with the Winchesters and Castiel.

“Speak of the devil.” You muttered.

“Y/N?” Dean asked.

“In the flesh.” You said. “What are you doing here?”

“Vengeful spirit.” He replied.

“I’ve got it covered. I don’t need you here.” You informed him.

“How long have you gone to school here?” Sam interjected.

You glanced in his direction. “Almost 4 years. I’m finishing up my Bachelor’s degree.”

“How though?” Dean asked. “Aren’t you technically dead?”

You laughed. “Y/N Winchester is dead so I can finally go back to my legal name. If you’ll excuse me I have a class to attend and I have to walk across campus to get there.”

You turned on your heel and walked off.

“Y/N, wait!” Dean called.

You spun around. “I have! 6 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 5 days. That’s how long I waited, Dean, and I’m done waiting around for a family that doesn’t want me.”

You ran off before Dean could say anything as the tears streamed down your face. Seeing them was just another reminder that you weren’t wanted or needed anywhere.

******

Tags:

@impala-dreamer @feelmyroarrrr @mariekoukie6661 @latishiante1001 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @i-cant-believe-its-not-satan @ellie-andthemachine @spnbaby-67 @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @meeshw777 @rideandwritethings @sleepylunarwolf @moose-and-sqruille-lover @youre-acting-like-a-psycho @waywardasfudge @amotleyworld @fallenangelsneverfade @claitynroberts @wingedcatninja @carryonmywaywardwriters @dean-winchesters-bacon @death-unbecomes-you @arses21434 @lonely-skys @mannls @internationalmusicteacher @theloudkilljoy @closetspngirl @sandlee44

#see who c u #part one #former dean x reader #little angst #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #jack kline #feedback would be appreciated

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artinterviewmagazine · 5 years

Text

Conversation With Taj Bourgeois On Selling Their Paintings Online For A Living

Marius Larsson: So first of all how long have you been selling paintings? About 2 years now? Taj Bourgeois: Yeah I quit my job driving taxi in December so a little over 2 years. I had a week where I made negative $70 and that was that. I had to do something different. ML: What made you think you could make it as an artist, and how did you initially get started? TB: I didn’t think I could make it lol, but also felt like it might be my last chance to give it my all. If I didn’t at least try once in my life I was concerned I’d feel like a hypocrite if I were to tell my daughter to follow her dreams. Pretty much I just posted on Facebook “Would anyone like to commission a painting?”. I got five responses, one of which was for $600. Honestly I don’t know if I would’ve felt the drive to commit if it weren’t for that, but also my strategy was and has been basically to just make paintings everyday, so people would see I was taking it seriously and in turn take me seriously. ML: And had you been painting much prior? TB: I had made like 7 or 8 paintings in the months leading up to it, so people were aware what I was getting into and I guess displaying some level of skill. Prior to that I hadn’t really painted since around the time my daughter was born in 2012. ML: What kinds of things did you start off painting? TB: In 2012 or in the months before doing it full time? ML: Tell me about 2012, why you took a break for 4 years and then what got you back into it in 2016. TB: When I found out I was going to be a father I had been in college for just a couple semesters taking random art classes. I was just there for the school loans... ya know.. didn’t want to get a job. Anyway I was in a painting class, and it was pretty much my first time painting. I watched the Basquiat documentary “The Radiant Child”, and it made me think about painting in a very different way. A few months after my daughter was born and I won a couple awards for paintings I did for the college’s annual art show. Then I enrolled at the Pacific Northwest College of Art for the Fall semester, but by that point I was learning about hundreds of artist’s on my own time, and was becoming inspired to try all kinds of things other than painting. I felt I did so well that semester that I decided college wasn’t going to be a good use of time or money, so I dropped out and just followed my train of thought for the next 4 years which led back to painting. ML: How did it lead back to painting? TB: I had been driving taxi for a year and a half, and during that time I felt more and more disconnected from any of my previous modes of art making. I was pretty much sitting in the cab making memes and digital collages. Toward the end the collages I was doing started to become more refined, and I started thinking about the merits of painting the imagery I was putting together. The first thing I painted after all that time was an image of flaming goose which was a meme that had been going around. I decided to painted it very large. It was just something I thought would help test the waters again, and also something I figured I’d like to have on my wall. Of course painting a giant meme is going to get a good response online, so I did a couple more, and then painted some scenes from photos, and then from my imagination. Tried to paint the collages I had made but didn’t quite feel right to try to change their medium. ML: Ok so you had a few commissions and then what? You’d post your paintings for sale and people just kept buying them? TB: Yeah although the first 6 months were pretty rough. In April I only made $500, so I was cutting it close, but I was still in the mindset that most artists have, which is like their art has some mysterious value to it and should be expensive, but then I realized it would make more sense if I took it more seriously as a job and charge by the hour, so I started painting more small funny stuff. Like for me it made more sense to sell a bunch of little humorous $50 pieces than cross my fingers on a $300 piece cause it would take me the same amount of time to do 6 of the $50 ones. It wasn’t until around 6 months that I made my first piece that multiple people wanted, and so what I did was make it multiple times, and that’s when things started to pick up. ML: And what was that piece? TB: It was spider man on the floor of an art museum looking up at a painting of a goofy fish with a human face, and spider man is saying in a thought bubble “That Painting Looks The Way I Feel!” It was originally from an old comic and spider man had been looking at some kind of parody Picasso portrait, but you know with memes pieces get replaced, and the mood changes. The fish’s face was a better mood than the Picasso probably.

ML: How many paintings had you made by that point? TB: Around 70, but had sold maybe 20 ML: What materials were you using? TB: During the taxi days I was in the store (Fred Meyer) and saw this canvas that house painters just lay on the floor to catch the paint drips, and I was like damn 4x15ft for $13? I should get some in case I feel up to making some big paintings someday, but I have always been such a frugal person that it wasn’t until I saw the apple barrel brand paints that I was like damn ok lemme just buy a couple of every color and see if I’m into this. I also bought a gallon of white house paint to “gesso” the canvas. I still use this method on big pieces, and can always stretch later, but lately have been buying a lot of canvas already prepped and stretched. ML: So do you only sell through Facebook and Instagram? TB: Yes oddly enough that’s like 95% of sales. A few every now and then from irl shows where I live here in Portland (Oregon).

ML: I want to go back to something for a second. You mentioned you started painting in 2012, but then you won a couple awards a few months later. How old were you. How did you excel so quickly considering you said you hadn’t painted prior and what were those painting? TB: I was 24. I think painting is one of those mediums where “ability” is far more subjective than most things. You can view enough of it without trying it yourself to the point that when you do try you’ll already have a grasp of it. I have been interested in painting my whole life, so picking up the brush I already had thousands of hours of experience just thinking about it ya know, so like with that show at the college I knew I wanted to make something big and bold. So I cut myself a 4x7ft canvas and ended up making this multi-colored deer looking straight ahead with sort of hypnotic gaze. That was a people’s choice award, and the other got me a scholarship offer, but for that one I basically had just copied Twombly lol.

ML: How would you describe your style today? TB: Hmm I try not to, cause I try all kinds of stuff. I feel my technical skill level is mediocre but maybe my creative level is high? Different people are going to appreciate different things, and I’ve always been more interested in what the painting depicts over how it’s made. I mean skill aside I think most paintings are pretty umm I want to say “derivative” haha are people still using that word in serious? I’m having fun though, staying curious, and I think that comes across. What’s the point of describing my “style” anyway?

ML: I’m curious about how you view your own work. TB: I view my own work with my own eyes lol. I view my art like a loving father or maybe more like an observer, a bird watcher? No, ok I think I understand this question now. My approach to painting is often like a mix of writing, drawing, and making memes. Often I have the idea and it doesn’t really matter how I get there unless the technique is the content itself as with a lot of abstract art. Like, I will entirely base a painting on a sentence describing the image itself with little concern about how i will make it. Like “a shuriken stuck in the back of a smiling man”, so I’ll paint some sky, a fence, some grass, blue jeans, man has no shirt, shuriken, blood, he’s holding a beer, he’s smiling alright i did it… nice. That’s one way I view my work as a route to an image. I used to do this all the time before painting. I have an art book from 2015 where I used this method a lot like I’d write down ideas, and then go out and make them happen. Some elements of the end result were arbitrary although I always tried to have good composition and quality documentation. I didn’t think of myself as a photographer though I certainly was and was good at that aspect too, but it was more the means to document my performance, sculpture, installation… sentence made real. I also view a good portion of my paintings as elaborate pages ripped from children’s books that don’t exist (yet) and they’re filled with weird cute characters I never really had any intention to keep making in the first place, but I’m still doing it for some reason maybe because I like the idea of an overarching narrative, but mostly I think cause they give me a deep nostalgia for illustrations in picture books I saw as a kid or like panels from graphic novels.

ML: That answer is all over the place! I guess that’s what i get for asking such a broad question, but there’s a lot to work with there. Tell me about being a Father. You said it was kind of the catalyst to start making art. How do you think it’s affected your work? TB: Naturally it changed everything. Before my daughter was born I was just so much more aloof, timid, uncertain about making anything. I’d spend so many days just floating around “hanging out” drinking, smoking etc. Maybe I’d draw a little, write a little, play some music, but always felt like I was just killing time waiting for something to happen, and then it did. Suddenly I felt obligated to be at home most of the time, ya know, like a good dad. Other than that I was still in school making the most of it for the short time being. So for that first year I was either home with her or at school. I was just making stuff every day all the time, and it became an insatiable habit especially once I started sharing it online. Yeah honestly I felt the pressure was on. Like I had waited too long to pursue my passions so I had to make up for lost time. I’ve been addicted to making and sharing things everyday ever since. As for my daughter’s influence, yeah I love watching her grow and the things she makes inspire me as well. I’m a bit of a romantic when it comes to modern art and its mythos. I still vibe off what picasso said about how it took him his whole life to paint like a child, so I feel really grateful to work with her. I have literally thousands of her drawings stacked all over the place. She’ll sit down and do fifty drawings in an hour so I’ve gotten a white board lol. Also like I mentioned before it was kind of insane of me to quit my job to become a painter, like I have a kid, rent, bills, a car, and I’m just going to suddenly start painting happy devils to pay for all that? Well, yeah it felt like my last chance to make my dreams a reality. I just wanted to be able to say I did my best and tried to make it work, for myself, and to be a role model in that sense as well. So far so good.

ML: There seems be a big disparity between artists who make a living off their work and artists who don’t, and what I mean is that when you think of an artist making a living off their work you usually think either they have gallery representation, some kind of branding, or business making the same kinds of things again and again, and yet you seem to have been able to find some middle ground and do all of those things without a business, a degree, or a gallery. What’s it been like overall/how is it going? TB: I still got my foodstamp card haha, but to be honest things are better than ever. I don’t know I just keep at it every day. My belief has been that if I just keep making stuff the right people will notice. I’ve never submitted my work anywhere or asked for opportunities. I let them come to me. I just want to make the art not deal with the other stuff. If a big gallery wants to make money off me they most certainly will but for now I’ve just been doing small independent spaces, and cafe’s which bring in a little extra money but pretty much all my sales are online where I talk to every single person directly. The most surprising thing has been how many people are interested given that I have less than 5,000 followers/friends. To me that’s a pretty good sign that as my reach grows so will opportunities and I’ve been going hard these past two years. I think I’m just going to be making bigger, better things as more people become interested. I don’t know any artists doing it this way or any way really. I’m not sure Portland is the place to make it happen, but god bless the internet! Getting a college degree makes no sense whatsoever except for becoming a teacher, and I think we know how that’s playing out these days, so I’m just grateful to be doing what I’m doing even though teaching would be pretty cool. Technically you don’t need a degree to teach you just need people who want to learn.

ML: One thing that seems to have helped you gain momentum is the price of your pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever followed an artist pricing their work so low that wasn’t just really kitschy stencil art or something. I see some of your pieces for $600 that I’d see in a gallery for $6,000 no doubt, but then I see a great deal of $50 pieces. What made you decide to price your work this way? Has it changed over time? TB: Yeah and it’s always the “artists” that comment on the prices being too low which is ironic cause usually all you ever hear from the average person is mocking how ridiculously high the price of art is generally. Basically I think other artist’s scoff because they’re projecting their insecurity regarding the real value of art, and maybe a little envious they can’t let go of their own pieces as though the abstract painting they made in a few hours should be worth thousands when they could be making a dozen similar pieces in a single day. But um yeah I pretty much think of my stuff as like $30-$50 an hour and really like that’s fucking amazing for a job. Yeah idk I have worked some shitty jobs, and it doesn’t make sense thinking that my work should be above what a person like myself can afford in the first place. When I first started though I still had the mysterious art value notion and was pricing things around $200 that I’d price $70 now, and didn’t sell much at first. It wasn’t until I started doing smaller pieces and gauging my time that I started selling a lot more and trying a lot of different things. It’s not like i’m making art specifically about making money but I can understand why people are so interested in this aspect. I don’t think it’s very common huh. When I first started I tried to justify it as a performance piece called “The Painter” haha. I used to title all sorts of things in my mind as a means to cope with the daunting reality of the situation “Working Construction”, 2014. Even during some of the lowest points I think it helped me maintain the peculiar sense of an artist identity I didn’t want to let go of even if I was letting go of everything else like “Burning All My Journals & Paintings″, 2015

ML: Haha what is that last one about? TB: Around the time I stopped living with my wife and moved into my own place I decided to not bring much along with me. I think the title is self-explanatory. ML: I’m wondering if you could talk about any reoccurring themes or characters in a lot of your paintings like the blob fish or spicy boys. TB: Ya know I think most everything just comes to me on a whim and if it works out or holds my interest I’ll keep playing with it. I guess blob fish and spicy boys are like representative of the comedy/tragedy masks or something. I think I’ve simplified a lot of themes in my paintings just so I can keep the flow going. I’m looking forward to spending more time and space on pieces in the future and elaborate on certain things I’ve wanted to express but didn’t know how to put into words. ML: How so? TB: Well, for example. Sometimes I will paint something I’ve seen in my mind, like, dreamed or hallucinated, but not often because a lot of the time I feel I can’t do it justice even though a lot of my stuff is very much informed by these things that I don’t exactly control. It’s like I take video stills from the internet except they’re from my mind, and the screenshot is something I only had to opportunity to view briefly, but even with a split second hallucination I will think about it for weeks and often will just paint its most basic components. Anyway I’m gearing toward eventually elaborating on the more complex ones because lately I have had some visions that have come to the forefront of my interest. Hopefully will get to them after a few more pet portrait commissions haha. ML: What do you mean by hallucinations? Is your inspiration mainly inspired by dreams or do you mean drugs as well? TB: Most things I just write down as interesting ideas to play with, but I guess I don’t want to get too much into talking about drugs. However there have some recent experiences I’ve had with substances like dmt and the things I saw during that I have been thinking about ever since. So right now I’m just trying to get to the end of commissions and then give my attention to some new projects. Have a show in March. Don’t know what I’ll do for it, but certainly no shortage of ideas.

ML: Where do you see yourself going or where would you like to go, and any other thoughts on painting/selling/art in general? TB: I want to go to the top haha. Well in most ways things are better than ever, and I’m incredibly grateful and I can certainly tolerate having things going at this pace at least another year, but would like to make more serious/invested work that I’m really proud of, get some more money and attention and access to better time/space/materials. At this point though even if I had to get a day job I feel I’m completely committed to doing this work. It’s pretty much how I gauge my self-worth for better or worse. Just hope I can find my groove within the process and better understand myself, inspire others, and I wish I had something more insightful to say, but at the moment I’m a bit preoccupied hustling and just having fun with this upcoming show. Thank yaaaa.

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areasontobreathe · 5 years

Text

To any of my followers who spent their holidays being judged by strangers and family who can’t take the time to even know you, I just want you to know, you aren’t alone.

On every single social media platform I am on, I try very hard to spread positivity. And I get it, it comes off a little saccharine at times - You aren’t just thinking I am trying to hard sometimes. I am literally trying too hard sometimes, because I have had such a crummy day/week/whatever that I want to put some ‘nice’ in the world in case someone else is going through what I am going through, or something even worse.

Because, honestly, I wish someone was there to be nice to me.

However, the travesty of a holiday that I recently experienced must be said. This is your last chance: if you click below, there is profanity, mention of homophobia, mention of someone wishing rape on another individual, discussion of Christianity in both positive and negative light, and you’ll probably leave thinking I am crazy. And that’s okay - I know it sounds nuttier than squirrel turds, but it’s a harmless kind of crazy, which you’ll see if you read on.

Oh, and this is 100% not made up. Which is even weirder.

Christmas is usually my absolute favorite holiday. I get an excuse to wear silly sweaters and buy silly and/or thoughtful gifts. I get to cook for people I love and their families. Deck the house out in lights, cinnamon scented everything. I just love it.

2018 conspired to change that, apparently. In the lead up between Thanksgiving and Christmas, my spouse and I had a huge fight. The reason? Their family decided that ‘we’ were doing Christmas at my spouse’s uncle’s house. The misogynist, racist, homophobic, Christian zealot uncle’s house.

Umm... How about nooooooooooo. I refused to go, because this man has successfully pissed me right the fuck off every holiday for the last 7 years. I am not letting him ruin my Christmas this year. No. So, fight ensues, because my family is staying with us, and my spouse currently cannot stand the sight of my mom and wants to spend time with his family.

Eventually, the decision is made that the in-laws are coming to my house for Christmas instead (what on earth did I sign up for?). I made 2 things abundantly clear:

1) My family does an appetizer-buffet style Christmas, so that’s what I’m making, because I just made an enormous, traditional Thanksgiving dinner a month ago.

2) If Uncle Douchenozzle acts out of line, I’m kicking him out of my house. End of story. I’m a big believer in forgiveness, but that doesn’t mean I have to let him be rude to me.

Spouse agrees, in laws are coming to my house. Sigh.

Day of Christmas, I’m busting my butt getting food prepared, because my kitchen is too tiny for assistance, really, and everything has to be timed properly, whatnot. All other family members are sick and can’t make it. Okay, fine, leftovers for days.

Oh, But Uncle Douchenozzle makes it over to my house. He insists we all stop eating so he can pray over the meal before he eats. He talks at the top of his lungs and drives literally everyone but my spouse and I out of the room, and I’m squishing a panic attack as hard as I can to avoid being rude. Finally, time to exchange gifts, which means we can usher him out soon. He hands my spouse a wrapped package, and me a card. It’s a pretty typical Christmas card, doves and peace and joy and all that.

And a little note:

Go ahead. Look those verses up. I’ll wait.

Yeah. You did not misread those. This man came into my home, at my reluctance, ate at my table, and gave me Christmas card with a message that says, essentially, that I’m going to Hell. I’m sure he meant well, in his judgmental way: he has made inferences that my spouse and I don’t know God and he would really like us to get saved, etc, so on, so forth, for several years now. But the thing is? He has no idea what our leanings on faith/religion are. He has never bothered to ask, he just assumes we are Atheists or something because we disagree with him a lot of the time.

Well, yeah dude. You disowned your daughter when she came out to you at 18, and literally said you hope she gets raped as punishment from God for her homosexuality. I’m gonna disagree with you, hard.

And this is where things get kind of hysterical: I do, actually, believe in God. I’m saved. Have been for over 20 years. Then again, I don’t think Uncle Douchenozzle and I believe in the same God necessarily, sooo.... And honestly, I would never say I am Christian, because WBC is ‘Christian’, Uncle Douchenozzle is ‘Christian’, and I agree with half of one fact that I have heard from either of them - Yep, There’s a God. After that, it’s a lot of ‘nope’.

Where I start to sound madder than a box of frogs: The reason I don’t believe in any of the same things they do. It’s because I am, believe it or not, a child of prophecy.

Wait! Hang on! I’m not joking! Just listen a sec, okay?

When I was 14, I was a Church Camp (which is a thing), and the pastor at the camp prophesied over me between lunch and dinner one day (If you have ever spent a lot of time around Fundamental Christians of the Protestant Flavor, this is a really normal thing, I swear). Nothing flashy, no booming harmonics or funny lights or suspicious fog machines. But I will never forget what he told me, especially because it came out of pretty much nowhere.

He said that I was called by God to be a Servant (be patient...). Not to serve and grovel at the foot of man, but help and aide others without hesitation, to love without judgement, and to forgive completely. And that, while my name would be forgotten, as all servants in the Bible were (even the Angels who opened Jesus’ tomb had no names) my kindness and unwavering support of people would change lives.

He said this. To a 14 year old girl. Who was eight years into being abused by her own brother, and only stopped being abused by her grandmother because the grandmother fucking croaked. I did exactly what you think I did. I said “oh, fuck this dude, he’s nuts.” And I spent the next several years avoiding being kind to people, just because no one was there for me when I needed it.

Oh, my, gosh. I was miserable. Then, God got a little impatient and a lot less subtle about this shit: My boss asked me to help her organize a food and gift drive for underprivleged teenagers who aged out of Toys For Tots but were still young enough that it sucked not getting Christmas presents. I had actually been one of those kids before, minus the toy drive, so I attacked this thing with a vengence. My team spoiled those kids rotten, gave them good food that you actually want to eat.... everything for Christmas dinner but the main meat course. I did God’s work out of spite because no one was there for me like that.

It was the gateway good-deed, my friends. I was genuinely happy for the first time in years. And it slid from there: Being nice to people, volunteer events and fundraisers once a month, 6 different gift and/or food drives at Christmas, you name it. And I feed people. Oh my gosh do I feed people. It’s like a compulsion: if you are at my house and it gets dark, I assume you are staying for dinner and will cook for you.

But other things have come to mind over the years: I have never in my life judged someone for their religion. Honestly, I’m pretty sure we all believe in the same higher power, we just use different names (which, technically, Christianity does say there is only one God... And if they’re all the same higher power, then yeah, that’s true). Being a jerk about it, yeah I judge, but I let them prove they’re assholes before I call them one. I have always been genuinely nonplussed when people come out to me. Cool, I’m very glad you trust me enough to tell me. I will literally never tell anyone, because that would not be cool of me. Okay. Good talk. And I am actually that person who sees a challenge when someone decides they don’t like me as a person. Oh, for real fam? We gon’ be besties. Just you wait. (One person I did this to actually brags out how ‘insidiously friendly’ I am)

Then we circle back, and that Bible verse is jotted in my Christmas card. I sobbed for 2 hours, could not calm down. Like, dude, you don’t even know me. I am literally doing what God told me to do!

So yeah, if you had someone hate you for religion, or sexual orientation, or being trans... if you had to hide yourself and listen to them disparage people like you, I am so so sorry. But I’m here for you. Because you read this entire beast of a post, so you were there for me. We need to be there for each other 💜

#long post #i'm not kidding #tw:profanity #tw: christianity #really this is long

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mlovesstories · 6 years

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Adopting An Angel (RPF)

AN: Should I make this a series? Hope you like it!

Summary: YN was adopted by Jensen and Danneel. Adjusting to a new life is hard sometimes.

Word count: 1461

Warnings: Online hate, low self-esteem

Jensen x Danneel, Jensen x daughter, Danneel x daughter

“Hey, sweetheart. How are you?” Jensen was facetiming with his daughter.

“Hi, Jensen. I’m okay. Just adjusting. It’s still new, ya know? I wish you were here.”

“Sure, YN. I know. It’s new for all of us. But I’ll be home for hiatus soon.”

“Hiatus?” YN didn’t know the reference.

“It’s our summer break from the show. I won’t be back to Vancouver until mid-July.”

“Really?”

Jensen and Danneel had just adopted fifteen year-old YN. She was full of life and adventure, but she was out of her element with having a structured family.

“Yep. How’s school going?” Jensen wanted to be there for her, but he was obligated to be in Vancouver for Supernatural.

“It’s good for once in my life. But technically we have like a week left. Oh, I made a friend today.”

“What’s her name? Is she nice like someone I know?” He winked at her.

“Very funny. And HIS name is Skylar.”

“Umm, no. No friends who are boys,” he stated straight-faced. Her value just plummeted. She didn’t want him to hate her already. They were getting along so well.

YN was quick to respond with, “I’m sorry. I won’t hang out with him. I’ll find someone-” she sputtered.

“YN, stop! I was kidding, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you for making friends,” Jensen smiled. “You are so strong, you know that?”

“I don’t think so,” YN looked away from the phone.

“Hey,” Jensen got her attention, “you are. You’re doing fine. It’s all new, but that’s okay.”

She heard Jared in the background. “Is that YN? Let me see her,” Jared said as he took the phone from his friend. “Hey, YN! How’s it going, darlin’?”

“Hi, Mr. Padalecki. It’s good, thank you.”

“What have I told you about the last name stuff, huh? What did I say would happen if you called me that again?” He smirked.

“That you would tickle me until I cried,” she answered with a laugh. “I’m sorry, Jared,” YN emphasized his first name.

“There we go! I’ll let it slide this time, shorty.”

“I ain’t short!” YN automatically responded. “Stop calling me that, please,” she thought she overstepped with her declaration. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. Call me that if you want.” YN was very timid with her new family and friends.

“YN, if you don’t want me to, I won’t. We’re silly in this family. You are allowed to have a say and joke around too,” Jared affirmed her. He knew she was trying to find her place in their world of crazy.

“Oh. Umm, okay. Well, I don’t mind it. It’s okay if you call me that. Although, for the record, I’m not short. You’re just ginormous.”

Jared leaned back with a laugh. “She doesn’t lie,” he told Jensen. “Okay, they are calling me to set. Bye, shorty!” With that, Jared left the frame of the phone.

“Don’t mind the weird one,” Jensen grinned at the camera as he referred to his tall co-star. YN beamed.

______________

It was hiatus, and YN was glad to have the whole family together consistently for the first time since she became part of the Ackles clan. She loved watching Danneel and Jensen interact with each other and the younger ones. They spent their days at the pool, taking small trips, and hanging out as a family of six. It was strange to be the oldest sibling, but she enjoyed it which surprised her. The Ackles had not announced that they had adopted YN yet for her privacy, but Jensen and Danneel wanted to shout it from the rooftops. She was such a gift to their family.

“How are you feeling today, YN?” Danneel asked.

“Good, I think. I’m just not used to family stuff.” She looked at her mom.

“Like what?” Danneel was curious.

“The laughing and goofing off. I’ve never had that before. You have a lot of fun,” YN smiled. “And all the trips and outings. That’s new. My room is fantastic. I never had a bed to myself. It was always too crowded. Now I have my own room with a bathroom.”

“I’m sure it’s different. But is it a good different, at least? I know it’s a lot to take in. You can always tell us if you need to talk,” Danneel wrapped her arms around YN.

“Oh no, it’s totally cool. Just a kind of culture shock, I guess. I love it though.”

“Good,” Danneel was so glad for YN. YN deserved some fun. “Jensen, come here.” Jensen walked over to his girls. “Let’s take a picture. I want to document YN’s first summer with us.”

“Good idea, Dee. Here, I have my phone. Let’s get the pool in the background. It’s a good backdrop,” he nudged YN playfully, and she giggled. “One, two, three.” He clicked the shutter button on his phone. “Can I send this to Grandma and Grandpa? They can’t wait to meet you next week when we go to Dallas.”

“Okay. They seem nice. Well, they should be. I’m sure you got that from them anyway,” YN said quietly.

“They will absolutely love you.”

“You can post it. If you want,” YN knew they were waiting for her approval to tell anyone outside of their families about their new addition. She understood that there would be a large reaction because of who her parents were. After all, she was part of the SPN Family before she was part of the Ackles Family.

“Post it?” Jensen and Danneel each raised a brow questioning YN.

“On instagram.” YN was nervous, but she knew it would happen eventually anyway. “It’s okay if people know.”

“Are you sure, sweetie? We don’t owe anyone anything on social media. It’s just a fun way to interact with friends and fans, but we don’t need to,” Danneel soothed her daughter as she rubbed YN’s arm.

“No, it’s fine, really. I mean, I’ve been with you for a couple of months, Dee. I’ll be alright.”

As they talked, Danneel and Jensen asked YN what she was comfortable with them posting about her. She wanted them to say that she was theirs, officially. YN could publicly claim to have a real family. She was excited.

Both Jensen and Danneel posted a few pictures of YN interacting with the other Ackles family members. They were so happy to tell about their beautiful daughter.

Most of the fans were ecstatic for the family. Unfortunately, there were those who made heartless comments which were completely unnecessary.

“How could they choose her? She doesn’t look like them.”

“She’ll never fit in with them, she’s a different nationality.”

“She ruined a perfect family.”

Jensen saw that most of the comments were positive, but he knew that if YN saw the negative ones, her confidence in herself and her new family would be crushed. They were too late. She logged on and saw the hate comments and messages that she received personally since her parents tagged her in their posts. They heard a shriek and turned around. As they did, she ran through the house and up the stairs to her room.

“Dammit.” Jensen guessed what happened and followed his daughter. He knocked on her door after a few minutes. She didn’t answer, so he slowly opened the door. “Sweetheart-”

“I’m not anyone’s sweetheart, Jensen. I’m ugly, and I don’t belong with your family. I’m so sorry I ruined it,” she cried. He hugged her until she stopped her sobs.

“Who said those hateful things, YN?” He pulled her away from his chest so that she could read his serious face.

“People.”

“You’re right. People that we don’t know. Their opinions don’t matter even though it feels like they should. It isn’t easy to ignore, I know that. But I hope you give us a chance to show you that you aren’t any less valuable than the rest of us. We are all part of this family. Dee, me, JJ, the twins, and you. We are a family. Those people are not us. Have we made those comments to you?”

“No, sir,” she wiped a tear away.

“You’re right. We haven’t because those statements aren’t true. We love you so much. We don’t care that you have a different color skin than we do. You should be proud because that’s part of who you are. Maybe you do look different on the outside, but the color of your heart is the same as ours. That’s all Dee and I care about.”

“Are you sure? I can go back to-”

“Hell no. You aren’t going anywhere. You are ours now. You’re MY daughter, not the haters’. Please remember that.”

“Okay,” YN gave a small smile and leaned into her dad again. “Thanks, Dad.”

She called me Dad!

Tell me what you thought here!

.@katymacsupernatural .@unicornblood4ever .@ellie-andthemachine .@fangirl-moment-x .@empirialwolf .@winchesters-favorite-girl .@super100012 .@waywardnewcomer .@percywinchester27 .@waywardsuns .@supernatural-jackles .@mcallmestiles .@mandyreese .@sdavid09 .@kingandrear .@bellero

@rosie-winchester @iliketowrite02 @seality @blogsnowflakeme @jaycc7983 .@alyssarenea13 .@surflifesaverfreak .@87sassy @luci-in-trenchcoats

#supernatural #supernatural rpf #jensen x danneel #jensen ackles #danneel ackles #padackles #daughter x jensen #daughter x danneel

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the-pen-and-the-stethoscope · 6 years

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Step 2 Breakdown

So I know I promised a post about how I approached studying for Step 2 and here it is! Disclaimer is that at this point I don’t know my score so maybe this didn’t work at all, but I mostly want to act as a source of guidance mostly for people who are trying to squeeze the test in with a lot of other things going on at the same time.

Under the break: General stuff up top, including how test day went, and more specific things on the bottom. Feel free to reach out with questions!

General:

I had six weeks. I spent the first four mostly doing OME videos and the last two mostly doing practice blocks.

During the first four weeks I was doing an OB/Gyn Sub-I. I used CramFighter (which I didn’t use before for step 1) because I wanted to re-watch all of the OME videos during that time and I didn’t know how to set them up and space it out so I would get them all done. In the end I think it helped me most with not giving up once I got behind (see below for details).

I took two practice tests (just the UWorld ones), one the first day of my ‘dedicated’ and one a week later. There was a 6 pt improvement from Step 1 on my first practice test, then another 21 point increase between the two tests. At that point I had *technically* a week left to study - but with some big things in between (see below for details). I also did all of my practice blocks during this time on ‘timed tutor’ mode and it was awesome. Mentally the timed part made me go faster, but the tutor part made the reviewing faster. Overall I think I did about 1,300 practice questions outside of the two practice tests.

The day of I was pretty relaxed. The only surprise was the 8 blocks vs 7 (still convinced step 1 was 7 blocks....) but I ended up doing 3 blocks, ten min break, 2 blocks, 30 min lunch break, one block, 5 min break (sitting at the desk), 1 block, ten min break, 1 block. I brought trader joe’s trail mix as a snack (V CLUTCH - WOULD DO AGAIN) and a salad and yogurt for lunch. I made tea for myself and put it in a thermos that I’d borrowed from my friend but umm...her thermos worked too well. I never drank the tea. I got there around 7:15 and was able to start early so was done by about 4:30. Overall I felt good while taking the test, but definitely had a slight panic right after hitting submit. Will let you know how things end up!

What I Used:

1) Online MedEd - videos + printed out all the notes and used them as a textbook of sorts

2) UWorld

That’s it. I used First Aid for step 1 but I HATED the First Aid for step 2 so it was discarded after about two days of trying to use it.

The First Four Weeks:

The OME weeks are where CramFighter helped the most. I tried to watch about 3 hours of videos a day for four weeks, but some days I was tired and some days I got off late and some days I just didn’t fucking feel like it. So I got off schedule, BUT CramFighter was so good at keeping me motivated and also helping me catch up on days I had more time.

On the weekends I tried to do 80 questions (one block each day) to just keep on top of things. I had reset my UWorld at the beginning of this time period. I usually did these as timed blocks, but then I wasn’t the best about going over them afterwards. I wish I had just done them in tutor.

After my sub-i was over I honestly took a weekend off...

The Last Two Weeks:

Day 1: Practice Test. Was legit falling asleep while taking it. I couldn’t even understand half of the questions. I scored higher than I had on step 1.

Days 2-4: 160 questions a day

Day 5: Catch up day for OME, did all the peds and a few surgery videos I’d missed.

Day 6: 80 questions (quite a struggle day)

Day 7: 160 questions

Day 8: Second practice test. Did better than my goal, 27 point increase from step 1 score.

Day 9: OME catch up - did all the stats videos and 80 questions en route to the airport

Day 10-11: Conference, reviewed some old blocks I hadn’t gone over yet

Day 12: 120 questions

Day 13: Day before, did one block of 40 then read over the notes I had been taking while doing practice questions. Also went grocery shopping for ma snacks and made a cheat sheet of things I usually got wrong and really wanted to remember on the test.

Things That Got In the Way:

So I know I mentioned that I had a few things going on while studying and they were:

- My sub-i: remedied this by keeping the studying during the sub-i low key and casual. Doing some videos each day, for me, was as light as I could do while still being productive. I do feel like I was able to manage my time pretty well the whole rotation, especially because I had a pretty easy sub-i schedule.

- Weekend at beach house: This was the weekend after my sub-i ended. Basically there is a big party every summer that my family goes to that weekend and I really wanted to go. I brought stuff with me to study, but didn’t really look at it. I think it would have been nice to be productive, but I also think having the mental break was good for me overall.

- Taylor Swift concert: besides the fact that I literally died and it was the best night of my life I had to squeeze this in the weekend between my two weeks of studying. I actually think I managed this pretty well. The day of in the morning I did OME review videos and then the day after I had my friend drive back so I could do practice questions in the car. That day, though, I did not do as many questions as I wanted because i was just so tired.

- AAFP Conference: This was the big one - the thing that looking forward I was like I hope I don’t regret this. I had set up the conference before scheduling my Step and this was actually the second time I had rescheduled Step so I didn’t have a ton of options for dates or locations. I kinda just had to be like ok we are just going to see how we feel and might not be able to do a lot at the conference. Thankfully, the practice test I took halfway through made me feel pretty confident. Looking back I also really only took one day completely off because I was able to do a little bit of review the first day I was there.

Overall (without knowing my final score) I think I studied smart/well because I knew there were going to be big things getting in the way of my dedicated time so I started earlier than I needed. A lot of my friends while I was on my sub-i kept saying ‘I don’t get why you are studying so much’ but in the back of my mind I knew I wouldn’t have a ton of time those two weeks leading up and I would thank myself later. And I did.

One last thought: During step 1 studying I was a fucking machine. I literally worked ten hours a day for five weeks straight and I was on a perfectly timed schedule that I actually kept up even the week before the test. This was a totally different feeling. I could not have done the same thing I did for step 1. My mind and body were just not used to studying this way anymore. I think that is the biggest difference between the two tests - you just don’t have the stamina and for me it meant less hours a day studying, but maybe you don’t even need as many anyway because you’ve been getting ready for a year.

#medblr #med school #ms4 #step 2 struggles

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granular-experience · 7 years

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I Mean This. Forever. 67 Final Chapter

Thank you everyone that stuck with me through this, and everyone that found it and binge read it. That was fun to watch.

Rhiannon’s pov April 3rd

It took me nearly two years to send that marriage licence. Two fucking years! I haven’t been home in two mother fucking years! I was sure he had moved on, but when Robyn showed up two days ago he assured me that Jared was just as much of a mess as I am.

“I’m taking care of this shit. I can deal with you being gone anymore. Jared is…fucking…ugh. He’s driving me insane. And that fucking kid of his! He’s such a dick!”

“Dude! Watch your mouth, and chill out! How is Jared driving you insane? And what do you expect from Isaac?! His mother ODs and he gets shoved in with someone who’s going through all of this shit and working? On top of being 16?”

“Jared calls me at least once a day. And rambles off some nonsense about random shit! He’s fucking lost it.”

“He’s always been like that. You have to be able to add the missing details. He’s in twelve places at once. You’re all he has of me. That’s why he calls you. Deal with it.”

Rob glared at me, “Fine!”

“Now how do you plan on finding these people and getting the price off my head?”

A few weeks later Alex and I were sitting on the beach playing in the sand when a tall man approached Dimitri. He handed him an envelope and bowed before he left. Dimitri read the inscription across the front. Walking over he handed it to me. Jared’s jumpy letters printed out my name. My hands shook as I unfolded the paper.

My love, please don’t cry. It kills me. I miss you more and more everyday. I keep having a dream where you wake me up in the morning and always have something to show me but I never get to see what it is. Sometimes you simply say you have something to show me but we end up laying bed all day. Other times I get up and follow you but as I round the corner to see what it is I wake up, and realize it was a dream. At least I have you in my dreams if not at all. The only reason I haven’t completely lost it is the hope I have of seeing you again.

Being a dad is one of the strangest things I’ve done. 16 year old boys are assholes. It wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t smart and knew how to play games like I do. I apologize to Mom everytime I see her.

I signed the marriage licence. I wish you would have given me a more descrip reason why now and not when you get home.I never thought I would be one to wear a ring but here I am. I love this ring, Alessandro did wonderfully.

Rob says he’s trying to get the hit against you taken care of, but I’m not sure how long It will take or if it will work. We all miss you. Mom and Shannon say hello and send their love.

I miss you my love, and I can’t wait for the day I see you in front of me instead of in my dreams.

Love always, Panda Bear.

Tears streamed down my face while I held Alex in my lap. “Mom mom, are you crying?”

“Yes, it’s fine, baby.” Alex looks and acts just like Jared. Just as smart and just as ornery. The temper tantrums…ugh, and he’s only getting into two. “What would you like to do for your second birthday tomorrow?”

“Umm, can we come back to the beach?”

“Sure, should we go to the docks today on our way home to see the old lady for some fish?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Ok, let’s go put your shoes on.”

Jared’s pov December 22nd

This year I’m taking everyone to Italy for Christmas. It was Rob’s idea. I just went with it. Anymore, I’m numb. I hate waking up to this fucking ring on my finger not being able hold my wife. It’s fucking bullshit. “Dad, let’s go! The car’s waiting.”

“Coming!” it’s hard to not let Isaac see how broken I am. Inside I’m fucking desolate. I hate everything. It’s like my thirties all over again. I hardly sleep, I can’t get any songs out of my head. I’m floundering and it’s crippling.

I jumped in the car and we headed for the plane. In a few hours I’d be in Italy wanting Anni even more.

When the plane landed it was early afternoon. Two black SUV’s picked us up, and drove us out of the city. We drove for an hour before we reached a little seaside village you’d see on a post card. Anni would love it. It was all white with splashes of bright colors thrown about. Even in the winter it looked like summer.

The cars stopped in a parking lot “We need to walk the rest of the way. Don’t worry about the bags they’ll get them.”

I threw my backpack on and waited for Isaac to put his sketch book up. I think I’ve finally found an outlet for his teen angst. He hasn’t kept his face out it since he got it. He’s not bad at drawing either. As we walked down the narrow paths family’s were decorating their houses, laughing, singing, and having fun then I heard it, her voice. “Alexander! Get down from there! You can’t climb the tree!”

I franticly looked to Rob. “Was that fucking Rhiannon?! We’re not supposed to be here. She told us-”

“Chill dude I got everything taken care of. She can come home. I just haven’t told her yet. I thought this would be the best way.”

“What? Really?” he nodded. “Who’s Alexander?”

He shrugged as he knocked on the door. “Mom mom! Dimi! There’s someone at the door!”

Mom Mom?

“Just a minute! Alex come clean up all this glitter, please.” the lock flipped on the other side of the door and my heart pounded. I somehow got pushed to the front of the group. When she opened the door we both were frozen. She looked amazing! She didn’t look like a heroin addict anymore. Is she real? Is this a dream?

We both lunged at each other. She engulfed all of my scenes. I was amazing to feel her, hold her again. I honestly started to think this would never happen. Our embrace was broken by a clatter and a small oops from the other room. Anni rested her head on my shoulder and sighed. “Who is that?”

She stood back and smiled, “A much smaller version of you.” I followed her into the other room to find a child standing next to Dimitri who was cleaning up a pile of glitter. “Thank you, Dimi. Alex come here, please.” She kneeled down and wiped glitter off his face. He glanced at me briefly with sharp green eyes. She asked him something in Italian to which he responded with a cheery, yes. She picked him up and turned to me, “Jared, this is Alex. Alex this is your daddy.”

He lunged out of her arms towards me. I took him as his little arms wrapped around my neck, “Hi, daddy.” I was speechless.

I looked at Anni as I hugged Alex. Tears filling my eyes; this is so surreal, “Hey buddy.”

My mom crept into the room, “Is everything ok-“ I turned to face her Alex still in my arms.

His face lit up when he saw Mom. “Hi, Nana!” he acted like he knew all of us already.

I handed him over to Mom and turned back to Anni. “How? I thought you couldn’t.” my hands found her waist and my thumb brushed over the location one of her scars.

“I was bedridden for four months. It was really painful, but I had to do everything I could to keep him.” She looked down at the floor.

I wrapped my arms around her again, “Thank you. I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish I could have been here for you.” I heard Mom whisper something to Alex before they left the room. Our lips connected again. It seemed like an eternity since I had tasted her lips. They tasted like heaven and peach tea. My hand moved under he shirt to feel the skin across her back. Her hands gripped my hair pulling me to her. She pulled back panting, “We should wait. There’s no privacy in this house.”

I smiled at her, “That’s fine. Besides it’s been so long it’d probably be over before I even got my pants off.” Her laugh was music to my ears. Rob was yelling at us from the other room was not.

I introduced her and Isaac. Isaac was completely unamused, he said hi and stuck his phone back in his face. “Well b-man you need to pack a bag for you and the tiniest Leto. This house isn’t big enough for all of us.” I smiled like an idiot. The tiniest Leto. I had a fucking family!

Anni went and packed everything she and Alex would need. While we sat in the livingroom watching Alex question Isaac about everything from what his favorite dinosaur was to his favorite color. “What about your favorite kind of chocolate?!”

“I don’t know I guess I never really thought about it.” Isaac tried to act annoyed but quickly gave in and went along with his brothers million questions, “Oh! I’ve got one!” Isaac got a sly grin on his face, “What’s you favorite nebula?”

He was obviously trying to stump Alex, but Alex retorted without missing a beat, “The Crab Nebula! Because it resembles the iris of the human eye, and it was the first astrological object identified with a historical supernova explosion recorded by the Chinese in 1054!”

“How do you know this you’re two?!” We were all stunned.

“Technically I’m almost two and a half, but mom just says I’m really smart.” Alex fiddled about with the Batman figure in his hand. “Oh no! Mom mom!” he climbed off the couch and ran into her bedroom mumbling something about bowties.

I watched him leave the room, when I turned back to everyone my eyes met with Shannon’s. His huge grin spread across his as he stood and pulled me up with him. He wrapped me in a tight hug, “I told you it would all work out, didn’t I?”

We arrived at the house we were all staying in. The boys were playing in the back yard with their uncles while I stood in the kitchen with Mom, “You know, son, I never thought I’d see this. After what your dad did and everything you’ve been through. I never thought you’d have a family. I never thought you’d find someone who you’d be willing to take the bad with just to have all the good times. You could have handled all of this differently, and you would have gotten off scot free. Never would have had any of this drama in your life, but you didn’t run. I am very proud of. You have made feel so happy and achieved as a mother. Thank You.”

Mom started to tear up, “Ma, stop it. Come on.”

I hugged her and she pushed me away from her, “Go find your wife.” She smiled and went to join everyone outside. I turned on my heel and went in search of my wife. I checked three bedrooms before I finally found her. She was sound asleep laying across the bed.

Rhiannon’s pov

I heard the door creak open and felt the bed dip. I looked through my hair to see Jared looking over my body, twirling the ring on his finger. He smiled to himself and looked at his hands. He stood, kicked his shoes off and grabbed the blanket from the chair. The bed sagged again as he laid down behind me covering us both with the blanket. His arm snaked around me and he nuzzled his face into my hair.

I pushed my body back against his and slightly shifted my hips. His deep groan egged me on. I pushed my hips back harder a second time before turning to face him. “I need you Jared. I’ve missed you so much.” I pushed a kiss to his lips while I slid my knee in between his and held myself against him. His body instantly responded to my touch. Small goose bumps spread over our skin as our hands reacquainted themselves with all the dips and angles of each others body. Before I knew it Jared was hovering over me panting while I pulled him into me with every thrust he made.

He felt like heaven. He looked at me different now. Not with the fever that used to be in his eyes, but more love and passion. We weren’t just having sex, or fucking like we used to. He was actually making love to me. There were no games, no holding back, and no begging. Just him making sure I felt how much he missed me.

Jared’s pov

It was Christmas morning, Mom, Anni, and Catiana were in the kitchen cooking while Alex danced around beneath them. All of them carefully maneuvering around him while he played, like mothers do. I laid on the couch half awake watching them. I felt blissful, everything was perfect. Shannon walked into the kitchen and kissed each of them on their cheeks before getting his coffee. He turned around and made eye contact with me. Smiling he raised his mug at me. I lazily waved back with my stupid grin that’s been plastered on my face the last two days. He watched them walk around Alex for a few seconds before scooping him up out of the way. Alex let out a squeal and tried to wiggle away. He tucked the boy under his arm and carried him into the living room. Alex giggled as Shannon pretended to struggle to keep Alex in his grips. “Dad! Help!” Alex reached his hand out to me. I ‘fell’ off the couch trying to reach for his hand barely missing it. “Oh, no! Daddy!” Alex shrieked. Shannon dropped him on the couch and started tickling him. I ‘struggled’ to reach his hand and slowly pull him off the couch away from Shannon.

When he finally got away he stood next to me while I sat on the floor, “We gotta get him for that.” he whispered.

“How?” I whispered back.

He tapped his finger on his lips, thinking. “I got it!” he pulled me up off the floor and ran down the hallway. When I didn’t follow him he turned back and whispered loudly, “Dad! Come on!”.

After brunch everyone sat around and exchanged gifts. We sat around opening them and talking. Alex and I sat on the other side of the room waiting for Shannon to open his ‘gift’. “Guys, this can of peanuts looks awfully suspicious.” he shook the can and heard nothing.

Alex giggled. “Open it!”

“Well, ok. If you say so.” he removed the lid and two fake snakes jumped out. Shannon pretended to have heart attack. “I’ll get you for that! You two better watch your backs!”

Everything was perfect. I have my girl back. She’s happy, healthy, and clean. I have two incredible sons I never would have guessed I would ever have. I never really wanted to be a dad. All I saw was the down side and the lack of freedom. I never looked at the things I’d gain from it. The sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from raising children. To be able to watch a person become someone and develop and shift into who they’re supposed to be.

I never would have thought I would be able to find someone I wouldn’t be able to live without. Now I have three of them. These last four years have been a fucking rollercoaster, and never would have happened if I had taken Anni to the airport or simply told her no.

@msroxyblog

#i mean this forever jl #jared leto fanfic #jared leto

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quatschmachen · 7 years

Text

Indeterminate Forms

Welcome to the 2020′s y’all.

XXXX

The phone conversation did not go as Étienne planned. He was somewhere on that awkward plane of existence between the plane of being shocked and mystified.

He was shocked that Calvin had even phoned him, or even knew that he was in Edmonton. Honestly he had kept it under wraps not wanting to cause much fuss about his arriving. It was one of those unavoidable business meetings that he had contemplated skipping. However, after having Élyse yell at him for being stupid when she discovered that he was literally thinking of not going, he ended up slumped on the plane, stomach in knots, contemplating if there were better ways to die. He planned to be there for the three days of the meeting and then get the fuck out of dodge. He had quite honestly been avoiding visiting Edmonton, because even though things had seemed well and resolved with Ed vis a vis friendship between them after his party, there was no way he was going to stomach actually seeing Ed be happy in his natural habitat. Yes it was one of those silly feelings of raw salt, but after being added back to Facebook the onslaught of happy relationship in a way acted as some splinter in his soul. Probably it could be stated to be jealousy, the idea that good relationships could exist, and that somehow they were still together and apparently taking up another sport? When the hell did they have time to rest?

What had not helped these feelings, was the fact that, even though they had made up during his birthday bash week, when Ed had gone back home their communication had simply not picked up from where it had been before the entire complicated mess had happened. Honestly, he had been expecting at least a few skype sessions a week to keep up on each other’s lives, but apparently Ed was too busy renovating his house and adopting three chickens to sit down and chat to him on the computer. (He was pretty annoyed at all the cute chicken photos Calvin kept posting, that featured Ed playing with them, like who the heck would have thought of building chicken puzzles?)

He had realized that he was being an idiot, and had decidedly shelved any feelings of distress that he may have felt those few months after his 375 birthday bash, when he understood that while they may have made up he was most definitely not the priority in Ed’s life anymore. Honestly he was extremely glad for Ed that he seemed to be looking so happy, that his eyes were sparkling in the photos, he had never looked so good. Living with Calvin seemed to be exactly what he needed, and it was just irritating to admit to himself that everything that Ed apparently needed could not be provided by him.

So be it then. He had worked on making his own life better, extended friendships, was even having a casual ongoing friends-with-benefits situation with Isa. It was the fact that sitting on this plane, heading to a city he had not been to for many years, everything was suddenly resurging all the feelings he had managed to repress, the hurt and confusion… the realization that no matter how hard they tried the past would not come back…

His friendship with Ed had finally reached that mellow stage of distant friendship, where there were sometimes conversations but more often than not, due to the tugs of their busy life, the friendship was forgotten like an old mix tape at the bottom of a drawer. Taken out now and then, as now, usually with a burst of unexpected feelings triggered by situations instead of songs.

So when Calvin phoned him up, his voice inviting him to ditch the hotel and come spend the night with him and Ed, Étienne was attempting to figure out what had happened.

“How did you know?”

“Your Facebook selfie at the airport?” Calvin replied amused, “I doubt anywhere else has a shrine to Oilers hockey.”

“Oh.” Fuck. Étienne had only wanted to show off the weird bagel he had found, he had completely forgot about background giving him away. “Ehhh really I am fine –”

“Where you at now? I’ll pick ya up.”

“Oh well I dunno… I’m on some bus that will take me to the city train?”

“Century Park, gotcha. See you in fifteen buckaroonies.”

Hence the conversation not going as Étienne had planned. He knew it was a bad idea to show up the day before for the meeting tomorrow. He had begged Élyse to go for him, but after giving him a Look before showing him her packed schedule he had to concede that he had to suck it up for this one meeting.

Her reassuring words “you’ll be out of there before you even landed” did not ring true now.

With a sigh he gazed out across the countryside. Fucking Calvin McCall. The idiot. The man who he tried to hate as much as possible, but to his great irritation was not able to. Seeing the Ikea pass by, he wondered how long it would take him to reach the train station. Was Calvin actually going to show up? Did Ed know about this? Why oh why had he posted that stupid photo… The bus pulled up to the station; grabbing his bag, he got off and looked around. For a moment he thought perhaps he could run away until he heard his name being shouted, and his eyes landed on a large red truck, with Calvin standing beside it looking excited. Calvin was looking good, no longer was he such a bean pole, he had filled out slightly and obviously had been working out. His face was slightly sunburnt, and Étienne suspected if he were to remove his shirt there would be a farmer’s tan underneath. As he walked closer, he also noticed with some surprise that gone was the ever-present hockey mullet, and instead his hair had been trimmed rather professionally, sharpening him somehow. Etienne mused that perhaps he would not want to cross Calvin when it came to business dealings.

Eyebrows raised Étienne took a breath and then with resolution walked towards him. “Calvin, how do you even climb into that thing? The door is higher than your ass.”

“Howdy to you too,” with ease he reached forward and grabbed Étienne’s bag, Étienne releasing it attempting to play everything cool and ignore that his heartrate had picked up a little bit. “This truck does a magic trick.”

“What, it shrinks?”

“No, no,” Calvin responded, a smile playing around his lips as he opened up the passenger door for Étienne, “The electric step goes down… see?”

With some fascination he watched as the step did in fact go down, making it easier to high jump into the passenger seat. He had known about such things, but had not ever experienced it personally. Where he came from monster trucks was not the fashion.

After Calvin was also seated, Étienne managed to grumble, “Not sure why you need a vehicle that is partially an Olympic sport to climb into.”

“Oh god…” laughing as he shoulder-checked, before pulling out, Calvin added, “You sound like Ed when I bought this.”

“Oh? Well… it makes sense… he is shorter than me… does he need a foot stool as well to climb in?”

“Practically.”

Why was it so easy to talk to Calvin? He hadn’t talked to the man in over a year since their last brief conversation at a city meet. His feelings honestly were rather mixed concerning him, and he was annoyed that there was a large part that had grown to like him. Probably due to the fact that during the last city meet Calvin had managed to save him from being stuck in a group activity with Lucas, calmly stepping in and changing the dynamic. Glancing over to Calvin, who was humming a little tunelessly as he drove, eyes focused on the road, Etienne focused on the back of his neck, fascinated by the shorter hair.

“What happened to your hair? It’s so short.”

“Eh, wanted to try something new, Ed said it was time for me to look the part of a businessman… and honestly it seems to be working. My deals have increased rather well since the haircut…” pausing at a red light, Calvin shot Etienne a smile, “What about you? Growing your hair out to become a hippy?”

“No.” The response was a little sharper than he meant, and awkwardly Étienne decided to change the subject that was bothering him, “Does Ed know? That I am coming over?”

“Of course not, but he doesn’t need to know until he gets home,” came the prompt reply.

“Wait what – you invited me over to his house –”

“Technically our house now, I’ve been there for four years ---”

“And he doesn’t even know? I mean he doesn’t even know I’m in the city,” Étienne protested.

“Ummm you know my stance on that, you were being a Grade A weenie there, Étienne. Not letting us know you were coming to town.”

“That I should have told I was in the city?” Étienne huffed as he looked out the window, his eyes drawn to the river below, “I just don’t want to cause awkward city situations…”

“Umm hmm. It’s just some Western hospitality that’s happening Étienne, we’re not inviting you over for dinner and an orgy.”

“Of course,” Étienne mumbled focusing on the passing river bank, the truck passing off the bridge towards the large hill up into downtown. “Hey… you have some new buildings up.”

“Yeah, Ed’s actually grown half an inch and he won’t shut up about it.”

“Doesn’t that mean he needs new pants?”

“Naw he just let the cuffs down… he’s really good at alterations… hell he attacked all my clothing first thing. He made them fit me better.” Pausing at a red light, Calvin winked at Étienne, “Good thing you’re not going to be here too long, otherwise he might spruce you up into something people might desire.”

“Uhmmm, I am very desirable thank you very much,” Étienne retorted, his eyes widening, “Mon dieu, is that the new arena? It looks like a giant… blob.”

“Don’t tell Ed that.” The light turned green, “If you look out your window as we pass you will see the statue of Gretzky…”

“Oh god not that statue,” Étienne groaned, “I remember it outside Skyreach…”

“Mmhmm. A phase that never seems to end unfortunately.”

“You would suspect something was wrong with him if he didn’t like Gretzky.”

“True, true.”

Finally they reached Ed’s house, Calvin pulling his truck into the neat and tidy garage next to Ed’s smaller truck.

Neatly leaping out, Étienne looked around the large garage, “I never understood this about Ed, why does he always have a truck? Especially when he keeps talking about public transportation and greenhouse gases.”

Giving a shrug, Calvin opened the garage door, “No way I could explain it in a manner you could understand. C’mon buckaroo, I gotta get dinner going.”

He had not seen the renovations in person, and coming in from the large garage which was connected to the back alley, he was not prepared to step out of it into the back garden. The backyard was neatly segregated, rows upon rows of vegetables growing on one side of the sidewalk, some planks laid out between the verdant greenery. Around the vegetable portion was a strong wire fence, no doubt to keep the chickens out. In the far-left corner stood what could only be described as a lifted chicken mansion. Three chickens were waddling around the yard pecking at the grass and clover. One of them was pecking at an apple which had fallen from the trees - somehow it had managed to roll free of the nets which had been neatly set out under the branches with the purpose of catching the apples. Around the lower trunks seemed to be some weird sticky stuff, and when he looked closer he realized it was an ant catcher. There were some other fruit trees which he had no idea what they were. Along the back of the house was a large patio made of some dark wood, a table and some Muskoka chairs set out. A BBQ gleamed in the sunlight, and nearby, as if it was not enough, stood a metal fire pit.

Finally, with great reluctance, he looked at the house and let out a low whistle. It was about three stories now, the old bungalow completely gone. It had a dark blue siding, and large windows. However he could not spot any solar panels.

“I thought this was an eco friendly house?”

“Yeah… those fancy roof tiles are secret solar panels, so are the windows,” Calvin replied indifferently as he walked up the pathway keys in hand. “And we run on geothermal heating… really self sufficient.”

“The garden is huge!”

“Yeah. Now he has me as slave labour his obsession has increased… this year we’re trying more heritage tomatoes. Ed ended up going to that friggin’ Enjoy Centre in St. Albert and after seeing a talk by friggin’ Jim Hole about friggin’ tomatoes he comes home with all the friggin’ tomatoes and I swear to god if I have one more friggin’ caprese salad I am going to go out and murder a cow –”

Entering through the back door, Calvin carefully set down Étienne’s bag on the landing, before removing his cowboy boots and placing them in the cubby. He expertly put on his pair of slippers and climbed up into the kitchen, “The purple ones are the guest slippers.”

“You do know I have to check in at some point, right?”

“Eh? You can just stay in the guest room, Ed’s not gonna mind. Save some money.”

“Calvin I’m booked in–”

“Did you pay already?”

“No.”

“Cancel.”

Étienne protested as he followed him to the guest room, the room he theoretically knew about but had never actually stayed in previously. The room was a pleasant shade of cream, with white lacy curtains, the bedding a neutral pattern of blue squares. On the wall hung a vintage photo of the High Level Bridge.

“You sure this is a good idea, Calvin?”

“Yes.” Placing Étienne’s bag down on the bed, Calvin steered him out of the room. “I gotta go get some food. Do you want to see the basement expansion?”

“Of course, I have not been here since the place has been renovated.”

“Not sure why not, you’re always welcome y’know. Ed’s mighty proud of his basement…” descending down the stairs from the main floor, they entered what was obviously a gaming room. Walking past the pool table, Calvin opened another door which had more stairs.

“Is this the murder hole?” Étienne joked.

“No, it’s the cellar… well larder… cellar…” Calvin responded and as he turned on the light Étienne’s widened as if he had found the portal to Narnia.

“What?” He gazed at the two rows of shelves, stacked neatly with various jars, pickled items, jams, neat bags labelled ‘apple chips’. There were other items too, such as a tub of potatoes, another tub of onions. If there was an apocalypse tomorrow, Ed would be ready. There was also a rather well stocked wine cabinet which he admired.

“Yeah Ed’s gotten into food preservation too, haven’t bought jam in three years.” Apparently not dazzled by this plethora of food, Calvin walked over to one of the two freezers at the end of the room and opened it up.

“Wow, this is amazing…” Étienne breathed gazing at the jams with interest. “What does that other door lead to?”

“Ice room.”

“…no way. You mean like with saw dust? River ice?”

“He freezes tap water into large cubes. He’s paranoid that when the electricity goes the freezer will melt and all his hard work will disappear.”

“Hard work?” Étienne looked at the freezer with more interest, “What do you mean?”

Calvin was standing beside it, and he motioned in. “You see these containers?”

“Yes?”

Étienne stared at the piles of frozen food, tin trays of various sizes with a simple white lid. On each lid was written the name of the food and the date it was made.

“Ed uses the stuff he’s grown to make meals that are ready to go. Super handy especially during the work week when we are on the go.”

“What do you mean….” Étienne frowned,” Are you saying Ed has literally made all the food in this freezer?”

“Uh yeah? Hasn’t he ever cooked for you?”

“Well yes but… I mean never lasagna… usually a soup when I’m sick… or something…” come to think of it whenever Ed visited his fridge did get full of food for some reason. He had never thought of Ed being so productive with food. Ed never brought it up the fact that he loved cooking with him. Not liking this line of thought, he turned once more to the jams and idly picked one up. “What is this chocolate cherry jam?”

“Ohhhhhhh there still is some? I thought I ate it all! I looooove it. It’s sooooo good. I eat it right out of the jar and Ed yells at me... says something about other people needing to be able to eat it… pshaw… Grab it, I’m suddenly feeling peckish.”

“Ok…” Étienne’s eyes couldn’t quite take in all the neatly preserved food around him, he felt like he was in heaven. “So even these apple chips?”

“From the trees outside. Usually we have more but hey it’s nearly time to make more.”

Furtively Étienne grabbed a bag of the chips, and followed Calvin out of the cellar.

“Why do you have so much food? Are you able to eat it all?”

“Of course not,” Calvin laughed, “Ed donates what he makes to various organizations, let me tell you he is very popular when it’s the holiday season. It’s his way of giving back to his city.”

“Oh.” While Étienne knew that Ed liked to cook and make jams, he had not realized the extent that Ed had gone to growing his own food. In a way it felt bittersweet, as if he should have known all about this information. Thinking you knew someone well only to realize there was a whole other dimension that was hiding on another plane. Whenever he remembered visiting Ed, he remembered the bungalow, its sides needing paint, the neglected fruit trees in the back and the garage that could barely hold a truck.

In a way this entire renovation felt like Ed had undergone a transformation when he was not looking, sloughed off the chrysalis to turn into a butterfly that he would not even recognize. His anxiety about seeing Ed in person increased. Sure Calvin was being very friendly, acting as if this was just a common occurrence in his life, but Étienne still wondered how Ed would react. Hurt? Surprised? He was beginning to doubt that Ed would even recognize him at this point. Somehow, it felt like in the past few years Ed had managed to grow more than he had in the last twenty. In a way the idea of meeting Ed was like meeting a stranger.

Thoughts in this unpleasant swirl, he followed Calvin into the kitchen and sat down at the blue Formica table, feeling somewhat reassured that not everything had changed. Ed had had this table since the 1950’s, and laying the jam and apple chips on top of it, he smiled remembering the numerous times that they had ended up having sex on it. That was in the past now, and as he watched Calvin bustle about the kitchen, preheating the oven for the lasagna, the scene drove home the fact that his part in Ed’s life was over. At least, the extent he had played in Ed’s life. It was ironic that with the advancement of technology and the ease of communication over the years, the times when they were closest was when it was the most difficult to speak.

He was overwhelmed with nostalgia for the old bungalow, this new place too shiny and foreign, the marble surface of the counter seeming to scream ‘you don’t belong here anymore, you never belonged here.’

Trying to distract himself he opened up the bag of apple crisps and popped one into his mouth, hating the fact that they tasted absolutely delicious. Calvin slid the lasagna into the oven, and then sat next to Étienne with a sigh. “Woof, this should be ready by the time he gets home in an hour.” Lazily he reached over and grabbed a couple apple chips munching on them. “Do you mind if I bring my laptop in here? I need to finish up my work…”

“You were working?”

“I do have a job,” Calvin rolled his eyes as he stood up, “Lucky for you I was taking a break and caught your photo. Have no clue as to your logic on not contacting us. Geez Ed’s going to lose his nut when he finds out.” Giving a smile, Calvin left Étienne alone in the kitchen.

Not exactly sure what to do, Étienne sat there eating the apple chips, his eyes roving around taking in the magnets on the fridge holding up various photos, lists, and a City of Edmonton recycling guide. Leaning forward, he took another look at the photos. Calvin and Ed in large cowboy hats clearly at the Stampede, arms around each other laughing at something just beyond the camera. Another one was of Edith posing awkwardly outside the cat café, she was wearing a cat themed dress and obviously wanted to just get inside the place already. Another picture featured Calvin and Caroline lying on a beach somewhere, Caroline wearing a ridiculously huge white hat and a white bikini with red polka dots. Calvin was wearing sunglasses and a speedo, he lay under the shade of the umbrella, but it was clear in the photo that his legs were turning red with sunburn.

He nearly passed over the next photo, the context not immediately clear. He had to take a second glance when he realized with surprise it featured him in it. It was an older photograph, obvious from the style of glasses and the cheesy nineties clothing they were both wearing. Calvin was also in the photo, and Étienne remembered that it had been one of those city meets. They had been in Winnipeg at the time, and he had been irritated at how Calvin kept trying to hang out with them (especially since he had been trying to get Ed into his hotel room for some afternoon delight). His smile was tense, Calvin oblivious was cheerful as ever and between them stood Ed giving a sort of fake smile towards the camera. It was odd that Ed had put this photo on the fridge, it wasn’t the most flattering of them.

With a clatter Calvin entered the kitchen again, and set down his laptop. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes please.” Taking out his phone, Étienne decided he could at least aimlessly scroll through Facebook for a while. “What’s your Wi-Fi?”

“Eh it’s that sticky note on the fridge,” Calvin lazily responded, waving his hand in the general direction.

Standing up, Etienne peered closer at the fridge, finding the sticky and entering in the information. His tummy rumbling as the smell of the lasagna began to permeate the kitchen.

The silence between him and Calvin was rather companionable, the tippity tapping reassuring that there was still some business left to do in the world. A half hour had passed before Calvin shut his laptop down, stretched, and looked over to Étienne. “Sorry about that, it was on a tight deadline, had to get it in. Anyways, how have you been?”

Once more Étienne found himself surprised at how easy the conversation between them flowed, losing track of time, not even factoring in that Calvin had to get up and pop the garlic loaf into the oven to heat up, until he heard a door slam.

“I’m home!” Ed’s voice rang out.

“Hey Ed! Guess what—”

“Hold on Cal, just let me get changed.” Ed cut him off, and there was a brief glimpse of him going down the hallway, fingers already loosening his tie, suit jacket lazily slung over the crook of his left arm. It was apparent he was desiring to escape his work clothes.

“Oh well…” Calvin sighed as he glanced over to Étienne. “It’s going to be a gamble what he comes out in.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh… you’ll see.”

As if to prove his point, Ed reappeared wearing the rattiest Oilers sweat pants known to mankind, there was a large hole that had been patched up on the knee and it was clear the elastic was about to break at any moment. The shirt that he was wearing was no better, it was tired, the floral pattern faded, and some sort of paint stains were splattered over the left sleeve. His hair was all messy from the quick change, and he had obviously not bothered to comb it, the effort apparently beyond him at this point of the day. Etienne was arrested with the fact that Ed had let his hair grow longer, it was at that point where it was not quite his style in the 80’s but no longer so short that it had to be neat.

“Hey Cal, thanks for getting the lasagna ready,” Ed was saying as he entered the kitchen. That was about the point that his eyes landed upon Étienne. His expression transformed from calm to one of complete horror, and he froze there for a moment, before looking accusingly at Calvin. “Why- why didn’t you inform me we had a guest?” he managed to ask in a squeaky yell.

“Well, I was but you just didn’t want to listen to me.”

“Uhhh I need to change,” and he quickly left once again, his face bright red in embarrassment.

“Why did he-?” Étienne didn’t finish the question, just raised a brow at Calvin.

“Because apparently only I am the person allowed to see him in his lazing-about-the-house clothes?” Calvin responded with a small smile, “I think he’s dying in the bedroom at this point, trying to figure out what to put on that’s both comfortable and clean.”

“He didn’t need to change though,” Étienne responded, understanding completely the concept of lazy house clothing.

Ed had reappeared before Calvin had a chance to speak, this time in neatly pressed jeans, and a paisley button up shirt tucked into them, a buckle in place. His hair had been expertly combed, almost as if he was about to go out for dinner.

“Uh, hey Étienne. Didn’t know you were dropping by?” The raised intonation indicated that he wanted to know what the hell was going on.

“Oh right well, I have business here for a few days, honestly I was planning on staying at a hotel, but Calvin here insisted I come over.”

Ed was setting the table, “Oh no that’s nonsense, you should stay here for the night, we have a perfectly good guest room-”

“That’s what I told him!” Calvin interjected.

“–no need to waste money on a hotel.”

“Well, Calvin made me cancel, so I am here for the night.”

“Great. Good. What do you want to drink?” Ed had already opened the fridge and pulled out two beers, apparently reading Calvin’s mind as to the exact drink he desired with lasagna.

“Beer is good,” Étienne responded.

Pouring the beer into a frosted glass (Étienne was rather surprised that Ed had been keeping two glasses in the freezer), Ed set the beers down, and then got one for himself (but not in a frosted glass.) He felt a little awkward that with his arrival Ed apparently was missing out on his pre-prepared frosted glass, but knew if he were to bring it up Ed would just look at him like he was an idiot.

The timer beeped and Ed took the lasagna out, expertly dividing and serving them the same size of portions. This action was repeated with the garlic bread, and after he had refilled the drinks, he sat down.

The only sounds for the first few minutes were the forks scraping against the plates as they attacked the meal, Étienne inwardly crying in happiness at how delicious it was, but also glad that he didn’t have to think of anything to say.

“You can slow down Étienne, it’s not going to run away,” Ed wryly observed, and with a start Étienne realized he had nearly finished the lasagna, the other two still had plenty left on their plate.

“Well… it’s so delicious, it reminds me of some I had many years ago,” he responded.

“Mmm of course it does,” Ed responded with a small smile, “It’s Papa Giovanni’s recipe, remember when we went to his restaurant in ’92? I ended up taking a cooking class with him and memorized all the recipes… which was lucky since he died two years later.”

“You what?” Étienne frowned as if processing this, “You mean you have been capable of making the lasagna I have been craving all this time and you didn’t bother to inform me!?”

“You never mentioned it?” Ed responded rolling his eyes, “I can make many things Étienne, perhaps if you stuck around for a bit you would discover this.”

“Maybe I will,” Étienne responded as he broke a piece off his garlic crusty bread and began to mop up the lasagna.

“What brings you to Edmonton anyway? You say business but not what it is.”

“Transit meeting.” Étienne responded.

“Oh, the one Edith was supposed to go to, but shoved onto me?”

“Wait- you’re going to be at the meeting tomorrow?”

Giving Étienne another Look, and in the slowest most patient tone ever, Ed said, “Perhaps if you had sent me a message, I could have told you this and saved you the hassle of booking a hotel? Why, were you trying to avoid me on purpose, Étienne?”

“Uh,” Étienne was not sure what to say and probably the answer was clear upon his face, because Ed and Calvin seemed to share a glance with each other that to him said ‘we are communicating without words because we are a perfect couple who can read each other’s minds through the power of gay love, and fuck you Étienne.’ The exact reason why he had wanted to avoid this situation in the first place.

“Ah well I suppose even the best laid plans get disturbed by idiot blonds in big trucks,” Ed sighed out, earning a jab from Calvin’s elbow. “Owww.”

“You’re so rude, Ed! I am an idiot blond in a large truck.”

“Riight, whatever you say, darlin’.”

They had finished eating, and Calvin stood up, went over to Ed, gave him a small kiss on the forehead and picked up the dirty dishes, moving them to the sink.

“For puddin’ we’re literally going to eat chocolate cherry jam out of its container.” Calvin announced.

“What – Oh my god you didn’t find my secret stash for guests,” Ed moaned.

“No, I didn’t, Étienne did.”

“It’s still not dessert, just eating jam!”

“I was kidding, obviously it is…” With a flourish, Calvin opened the freezer and pulled out a tub of Moose Tracks, “Ice cream!”

They ended up moving out onto the patio, the warm evening sun washing over them as they ate ice cream, drank beer, and watched the chickens.

The awkward moment of before seemed to slip by, their conversation turning to catching up on each other’s lives, and perhaps with the aid of beer, relaxing them.

The evening seemed to pass by a little too fast, and after figuring out what time they were to be ready, Étienne found himself tucked into the guest bed freshly washed, wearing his travelling pajamas (basically a sport shirt and pajama pants).

Staring up at the ceiling he tried to make sense of his day, surprised at how easy it was to sink back into conversation with the two men, begrudgingly thinking that he had even missed talking to Calvin on such a casual basis. Hell, he was jealous that Calvin got to eat like a king every day. Closing his eyes he drifted off to sleep, a sense of peace permeating him. Peace or being full with lasagna at least.

#quatschfic #projectcanada cities #pc: montreal #pc: calgary #pc: edmonton #2020

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tysonrunningfox · 7 years

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Eret III: Stepping Up

So, this is like half of what I’m so excited about, but I realized because of this cutaway scene I wrote, it won’t make sense if I post the entire chapter as intended, it makes more sense for like...comprehension if I post this half then the cutaway then the other half.

So it’s a short chapter. Well, short for eret iii, it’s like 3800 words which is long for like anything else so whatever. And honestly it’s my fucking favorite so...

Previous parts (And it’s updated look at me go)

“Astrid, can you look at something for me?” The chief asks after dinner one night, after Aurelia has already gone up to her bedroom in this shifty, clumsy way that makes me halfway think she’s going to be bailing out a window to see my brother about a nightmare at some point in the not too distant future. Stoick is asleep on Bang’s back, snoring too loud for his tiny self and I’m reading a book that Rolf reluctantly checked out to me the day before, after asking about five times if I’d destroy it or not.

“Like what?” Mom asks, and she doesn’t look at the chief like he’s going to piss her off anymore. Not automatically at least. Something’s shifted since they got me in trouble together. Since he stopped…

I don’t even know.

He’s still sleeping in Stoick’s room, I watch him walk around rubbing his back all day like the bed’s as horribly uncomfortable as it looks. Part of me feels like bringing up the fact that he wanted to saddle me with that uncomfortable bed but the rest?

Well, as much as I hate to admit it, since he’s started being halfway to nice, it hasn’t been quite so…cold around here.

“This,” the chief stands when Mom walks over, offering her his seat, which she takes with one of those not quite so suspicious anymore looks, “it’s a new woodpile, Eret and Fuse are going to be doing some blasting tomorrow and we have to decide what to rebuild.”

“And this is your design? Or…” Mom smooths out the paper and the chief takes a long moment to respond.

I flip the page of my book back and forth, trying to remember where I was while trying to remember that I’m supposed to be learning when to eavesdrop. Now doesn’t feel like time, but at the same time I’m curious. Like if I don’t hear the inevitable next session of fighting is going to catch me by surprise.

“This is actually Gustav’s, and it’s fine, I like it, but Snotlout’s stalled the council because he wants a giant S on top of it and not only would that be a literal flaming beacon to any enemies but—”

“It’s stupid?” Mom laughs. I barely hold back a snort, because that is stupid, and because I want them to think I’ve dozed off because if they think I’m listening they’re never going to say anything.

It’s funny how I can have chiefly responsibility to blow up a goddamned mountain with a seventeen year old…Gronckle whisperer, yet the truth is still elusive and if I ask, it’s something I can’t handle.

“Yes,” the chief laughs too. I see him almost rest his hand on her shoulder from the corner of my eye but he seems to rethink at the last moment, patting the top of her chair instead.

“What do you mean he’s stalled the council?”

“He’s literally refusing to vote until I agree to put an S on this design. He says it stands for ‘plural’ like everyone will know we have more than one piece of wood.”

Mom laughs again, really laughs, and something sours in my mind because that’s a laugh that used to be mine.

It probably never was, it was probably just the laugh that belonged to whatever shadow of the chief I’ve always recreated without trying.

“How can I possibly help you in the face of such raw determination?” Mom wipes her face, staring at the piece of paper on the table.

The chief almost touches her shoulder again but stops, flicking her braid slightly to the side and wincing and Gods, where’s Aurelia when I need this to be a hilarious spectator sport instead of the dragon race from Hel where I’m not even in the running.

“Well, uh,” the chief looks towards me and I slump further against Bang, trying to make it look natural and drowsy even as Stoick’s limp hand tangles in my hair, “I…ugh, the council has an even number of members, um, right now, and that’s why he even has the power to stall because of some rule from 200 years ago that I can’t find a way to undo and we never filled that old Hofferson seat after you left and I was hoping…”

“What?” She turns to him fast enough that the chair squeaks and I can barely see from where I’m sunk down against Bang’s side. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“What doesn’t work like what?”

“I’m your wife, we can’t occupy two seats on the council.”

“Yeah, but you’re you and I make the rules and I uh…I miss your opinion and I don’t care if you vote against me tomorrow and put a huge wooden S-shaped enemy beacon on top of the wood pile, but I was hoping you’d fill it. The spot.” He makes some gesture that doesn’t even make sense and smacks his hand against the edge of the table, “like, for this issue and future issues.”

“No one wants my opinion, Hiccup,” Mom sighs, and that old weight of carrying the Hofferson wild-child grudge reappears on her voice.

“That’s not true,” the chief clears his throat and he’s too quiet and this is wrong and I want to stand up and say that I’m not asleep but…

But as much as Dad joked about it and Arvid prided in it, Mom’s always hated the way people say Hofferson.

“It is.”

“No, it’s not. I want your opinion.”

Mom’s quiet for a long minute and then I hear her stand up, “I’ll come tomorrow, if only to save Berk from a giant S-shaped target.”

“You will?” The chief rolls up the drawing on the table, “thank you, seriously, thank you so much—”

“Don’t grovel,” Mom snaps, not hard enough. It’s more of a reminder than an order.

“Sorry.” The chief sounds genuine and I hate it, I hate that he respects Mom like he knows the other end of her anger as well as I do. “I—can I walk you over? In the morning? Maybe? I mean if you don’t want, but—”

“Sure,” she’s irritated but laughing and I hate that, because it goes against everything black and white that’s she’s always been, “but stop that. I’m not doing you a favor, I’m yelling at Snotlout, you’re doing me a favor by giving me the chance.”

“I guess,” the chief laughs, “so umm, I’m going to go to bed.”

“Me too. Good idea.”

I pretend to be asleep while the chief comes over, scooping Stoick into his arms with a grunt like the kid weighs more than he does and climbs the stairs. Mom shuts her door.

I…I don’t have anything to say, for the first time in my life, probably.

I guess that’s something I’ve always sort of known, that Mom wanted to be a bigger part of Berk than she got to be in my family’s happy little corner of the island. And…I guess I did to. I guess I’m not miserable helping the chief. I’m not really miserable at all, I’m just—I’m miserable that my dad probably hates me and my brothers definitely do and Ingrid’s gone and Aurelia looks more like ambition than comfort some days in the last couple of weeks.

I’m miserable that being chief in training doesn’t let me fix things the way I want to, but I like solving the problems it does pose. I like helping kids with their runaway terrors and I like assuring people that we have enough of everything to last the season. I like organizing orders heading to the forge and looking at the village and seeing more. I grew up hardly allowed to go to the village, let alone add onto it.

There’s a promise to being chief, a wider ranging horizon. If I leave now I won’t be abandoning anyone, I’ll be diplomatic, I’ll be appreciated.

Eret, come inside, out of sight doesn’t exist anymore.

But so does Mom, laughing with the chief.

00000

“Hey!” Fuse greets me with far too much pep for the fact that it’s not even really, technically sunrise yet, because it’s just barely flirting with the grey horizon. She’s got a bag over her shoulder that she sets down gently before stepping towards me like she wants to get past me. I step aside and her arm bumps against my chest like—oh, what?

“Sorry,” I step back again, “am I in your uh way?”

“No, I was just—nevermind.” She shrugs, tucking her hand back in her pocket.

“Oh, were you uh, trying to hug me or—”

She shrugs and if I didn’t know better I’d think she looked halfway to embarrassed. Of course, it’s Fuse, so…

“Let’s get started,” she changes the subject, reaching into her bag and pulling out the small, not entirely spherical shells that we loaded a couple of weeks ago. It doesn’t feel like that long, but obviously it was long enough for them to get dusty, the freezing metal slightly grimy and slick in the way that I almost drop it. “Don’t drop those.”

“I’m not.” I frown, because I’m not stupid and she doesn’t need to tell me things that obvious, and she pulls that weird, swoopy piece of metal out of Hotgut’s saddle bag before telling her to ‘take cover’ like other people tell their dragons to sit and roll over.

“So this is the first time I’ve tested the baffle,” Fuse sets it down and lays down on her front behind it, holding it up and frowning. “And I don’t think it’s big enough to hold it and be safe behind it, I think we have to prop it somehow and go take cover.”

“Plus wouldn’t holding it put us way too close to the explosion? Like, couldn’t we catch on fire or—”

“It’s really more likely that a shock wave reverberating off of the rock wall would turn our brains to jam.”

“Comforting.” I wince and she shrugs.

“I’ve done this plenty of times and I’m still standing.”

“Well you’re you.”

She frowns and I continue, “and I’m Eret, you know, I get hit by things I’m not even near.”

“Explosions fling things pretty far sometimes,” she says like it means more than she’s saying and points at a big rock, that fell off the mountain of its own volition, “can you help me move that, I bet we could prop up the baffle with it.”

“Where’s Arvid when you need him?” I grunt, shoving the rock and scooting it about an inch before my stupid, new boots slip out from under that. Fuse steps up beside me.

“Careful, doesn’t saying his name make him appear?”

“Is that a joke?” We push at the same time and it scoots more easily, because apparently Fuse is freakishly strong for her skinny size. “I hope it’s a joke.”

“You two still aren’t getting along.” She grunts and gives one last shove before standing back and wiping her hands on her vest.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“No, and I wouldn’t really expect you to. I was always kind of shocked at how close you guys were, you were always so different.” She props the baffle against the rock and gets a spool of rope from her bag, starting to tie it in place.

“Yeah, you never felt the need to bomb me until today.” I joke and I don’t remember that she probably won’t get it until she looks up, that weird halfway hurt expression on her face again.

“Do you not want to be here?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all. I do. I really do, actually, you’re still the only person who talks to me like, I don’t know, everything’s still normal. Like I’m still normal.”

“You were never normal.”

“That’s not a joke,” I laugh, picking one of the bombs up off of the ground and handing it to her. She places it in front of the baffle and stands back for a moment like she’s trying to tell if it’s centered. When she decides it’s good she takes a long roll of fuse cord out of a pocket of her vest and feeds it through the uneven seam of the shell casing, waving me along with her as she lets it out and walks around the corner of the old, crumbling wood pile structure. She lets out maybe a quarter of the spool and kneels on the ground, biting the fuse off and pulling flint out of her pocket.

She pauses and holds them out to me, “it’s your first time, you should do the honors.”

“Is there some blowing up mountains tradition I don’t know about?” I squat down next to her and take the flint, miming a couple of strikes and hoping I don’t lose my nerve because I’m actually a little more freaked out than I thought I’d be about, you know, sending tons of rock down the slope and into the bay.

“Now there is,” she sits down and puts her hands over her ears, staring at the flint expectedly.

I strike it.

The fuse lights, burning bright and fast across the ground and around the corner. I smell it when it hits the bomb, something thick and metallic and nerve wracking, and I barely manage to get my hands over my ears before the boom. The whole mountain shakes, and my head throbs and I fall from my squat onto my ass.

Fuse uncovers her ears and jumps up before the ground is even done shaking and I heave myself to my feet and stumble after her.

There’s a cave where there didn’t used to be.

The baffle is nowhere to be seen.

Fuse is pale and looking at a smoking roof about three rows of houses away.

The giant rock we anchored the baffle with is gone too.

“I think it was too small for the bomb we used,” she clears her throat and forces her expression normal and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her put herself back together like that, like there’s a concept of upsetting her.

“So you think a smaller bomb?”

“I mean, it aimed it ok,” she inspects the new cave, apparently happy with those results. There’s a few boulders that didn’t quite tip down off the ledge into the bay and I wonder if that’ll be additional explosions to clear them away. “I’m glad neither of us were holding that, I have no idea where that rock went. It got blown across town.”

“Yeah…about that…whose house is that, do you know?” I point at the dented roof and she shrugs.

“I think it’s either the Larsons’ or the Ericsons’ but hey, it doesn’t look like it went all the way through. And it’s done smoking, pretty much.”

“Someone should probably go talk to them…”

“You could go get the chief,” Fuse looks at me, “or I mean, you’re the next most official thing, right?”

“I…” I think that over for a second. I’ve never done anything like that without the chief but…I mean, theoretically I can assume he’d back me up, he would want people to be alerted and also not alarmed. “I could do that.”

“I know, that’s why I suggested it.”

I smile at her and she looks at me like I’m crazy, like she always has.

“I’m gonna go do that, you don’t need any more help here or anything?”

“I need that baffle back,” she waves me off and I nod, turning to follow the faint explosion smell to the accidental attack from the air.

I didn’t bring Bang this morning because Fuse told me not to, because she figured I hadn’t taught him to ‘take cover’ and she figured right. I’m not going to lie, this morning was impressive in a way I didn’t expect. And even though the baffle didn’t work exactly like we expected it to, it was…something.

It’s the Larson’s house, when I get there, and I’m less nervous to knock on the door than I was to light the fuse. Gustav comes to the door, half panicked, and I’m glad I came over as soon as I did.

“Mini-chief,” he greets me, relaxing slightly.

“That’s not really my name.”

“I assume you’re here about my house getting bombed.”

“Yes, uh, Gustav, sir,” I clear my throat, “that was a by-product of some…explosives being used at the wood pile. Of course we’ll repair the roof, I just need to get the piece of debris back right now and I’ll send someone this afternoon? Yes, I’ll send someone to fix the roof this afternoon.”

“You have the power to send people places? Looks like I chose the wrong profession.”

“Could I borrow a dragon to get the debris?” I hold onto my temper and he stares at me for a minute before whistling. A gronckle I vaguely recognize comes around and I thank him, climbing on and hovering up to grab the baffle. It’s still warm to the touch, but not burning me, and it’s dented and warped from the blast. Apparently all this work goes into a one time use thing, but we won’t need to blow up the dragon island more than once.

“What is that, anyway?” He asks after I land and I don’t see any harm in showing him the baffle. He frowns and weighs it in his hands.

“One of Fuse Thorston’s ideas,” I shrug, taking it back and trying to feel official, like I can actually get his roof fixed today. “I have to get it back to her now but um, I’ll make sure the roof gets fixed.”

“I’ll hold you to that Mini-chief.”

“Not my name,” I turn away and wave, taking a couple of steps before Toothless lands in front of me with Mom and the chief both on his back.

“Gustav,” the chief starts, frowning when he sees me and what I’m holding, “Eret, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, uh, there was an accident over at the woodpile and it—”

“That’s what happened?” The chief talks over me and I frown. Mom makes eye contact and it’s embarrassing, somehow. Like she’s thinking I could be doing better. “Everyone saw a boulder flying over and thought it was an attack.”

“It was just some demolition gone…big,” I stand up straighter and clear my throat, “and I’ve got it handled here, chief, I retrieved the debris and I’m going to talk to Sven about patching up the roof before the next snow.”

“Oh…” The chief looks at Mom, who’s swinging off of Toothless and patting his tail. “That’s…good job. He’ll be at the meeting, do you want me to talk to him?”

“No,” I shake my head, “I’m going to follow through with this one, plus, I’ve seen the damage and you haven’t.”

“Oh…ok.” The chief looks at me strangely for a second before turning back to Mom, “we can walk the rest of the way, if that’s, you know, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Long time no see, Astrid,” Gustav raises an eyebrow at Mom, “how’s it going?”

“What?” Mom snorts, “really?”

“She’s been busy,” the chief says like he doesn’t sense the awkwardness and oh my gods, is Gustav flirting with my mother?

“Not really talking to you, chief,” Gustav grins, “can’t really focus on anything but how genuinely lovely Astrid looks today.”

“I’ll still kill you,” Mom laughs, patting the axe that’s strapped to her back.

I mumble “I’ll help” at the same second as the chief says something like ‘go for it’ and we make strange, agreeable eye contact.

“You know, if this whole…you know marriage or whatever with the chief doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”

My hand tightens on the baffle because, you know, it’d be a decent club and something about the way the chief’s looking at me almost feels like encouragement.

“I’m not gonna keep that in mind.” She turns, looking at the chief like she wants him to follow and walking towards the great hall.

“So you’ll follow up with Sven?” The chief takes a couple steps backwards like he doesn’t want mom getting away and I hate that but oddly not as much as I hate Gustav being…that way.

“I said I would.”

“Ok,” the chief nods, “get back to the woodpile then.”

I barely hold back the urge to say duh. But I do. And that counts for something, doesn’t it?

When I get back to the woodpile, everything is clean and it looks like Fuse has let off a few smaller charges to smooth the edges of the cave and make it a more even shape. She frowns when she sees the baffle, taking it and pressing her hand to the dent made by the explosion.

“One time use, apparently.” I want to tell her, suddenly, about Gustav and Mom and the chief and I don’t know why I don’t.

Maybe I want to stay chiefly, because it’s chiefly that I’m here with her and it’s chiefly that I handled that without clubbing Gustav in the face and being chiefly feels kind of good. Like there’s a barrier between me and my own stupid emotions, like I can’t say anything stupid to Fuse if I’m being chiefly.

“And not quite right. We need a smaller bomb but also a shape that’s not so…aerodynamic.”

“Wait a second,” I take the baffle back and frown and I can feel her staring at me as I put it together. “Not aerodynamic, aiming a lot of power. That sounds like you’re talking about a Thunderdrum.”

“What?”

“No, I mean, when Bang blasts—it’s a Bang, you know, I’m not that creative at naming things.”

She laughs and it’s awkward and I don’t know why it’s awkward. Because it’s Fuse and because her laugh doesn’t sound like the rest of her. I’m a little proud I made her laugh.

“But…I mean, a Thunderdrum mouth. Think about it, it actually makes some sense.”

“Yeah,” she cocks her head, “I mean, shock waves, sound waves, they’re both waves, right?”

“I can do that,” I nod, “I can get dimensions off of Bang and make something. It…yeah, yeah, I’ll do that, it’d be more durable too.”

“Ok,” she nods, “sounds good.”

“Yeah,” I hand her the baffle back when she reaches for it.

“I just…sometimes I keep things.” She shrugs, “the cool things, the things that didn’t go right.”

That makes me smile, for some reason, because it’s the most Fuse thing I’ve ever heard. Being surrounded by disaster and liking it that way. No wonder she always seems happy on Berk.

“Yeah, keep it. You’re fine. I mean good. I mean…I don’t know what I mean.”

She laughs again, “let me know when it’s done and we can make something small to test it with.”

“Ok, yeah that…yeah. I’m saying yeah a lot.”

She laughs. I’m not being vey chiefly at all.

“See you later, Eret.”

I wave and either I’m crazy or she’s staring at me as I head back home to get Bang.

#festerverse #eret iii #fuse thorston #hiccstrid #i'm gonna say it?#gustav larson #is here #it's the best?

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