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caspercryptid · 3 years ago

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I am here for the blorbos from your head! I'm gonna be that one customer and ask, what are the chef's recommendations?! For someone who enjoys deeply repressed characters who will probably cry if they receive a good, heartfelt, tight hug. Anyone?

So I read this and I went "Oh, Denis! Absolutely Denis!"

And then I tried to go through all of the moments in Denis Archibald's history that would make a good introduction to his character and I remembered how profoundly depressing it is. So- one of the highlights of Denis Archibald's existence, about as wholesome as he gets, here is... uh. Him rescuing a suicidal teenager and softly inducting her into a cult. CWs: That. Basically That. + Murder, violence, implied domestic violence, references to drowning (none details)

___

Denis Archibald very rarely bothers to think about how much he hates his job.

It’s a moot point. It’s not just a job, it’s a duty. A calling. A responsibility. He’d lost his right to live any other way when his mother died and he’d lost control and made a forest her funeral pyre. His hopes had died with her. And with her gone, he’s an Archibald, studying under his father’s tutelage and his father’s hands and not infrequently his father’s steel toed boots. He had learned his lesson, been broken in over and over. He’d never really healed.

So he’s fucked up. It’s fine.

He’d never wanted to fuck up anyone else.

But here he is.

June Adams is from a good family. The Adams were involved in the town’s founding, have been wealthy and established about as long, if not longer. June Adams’s mother is on the town council, and on the other council, the one with actual sway around here. June Adams is the heir to a powerful name, even at fifteen years old. And about twenty-four hours ago, he pulled June Adams out of Lake Michigan.

Alive.

Unwillingly.

Twenty-four hours. June’s swaddled in blankets on the borrowed couch of one of Denis’s least favorite employees, because he trusted the old guard to at least pretend to be hospitable. Because it’s only pretending, he hasn’t left. She’s been sleeping in fits as she warms up— it’s December, she was barely alive when he got to her, he’d used so much magic, is in debt to at least three people to keep her alive— he doesn’t care. She’s alive. The trick is going to be to convince her that she wants to be.

He knows what he has to do, because he remembers being her age. A purpose. He’s just— struggling. With it. And there’s no space to doubt now, no room to question, no point in wondering if he’s doing the right thing now, he’s given everything up for this cause what’s asking someone else to do the same thing? Even if it’ll save her? He’s pacing the hall, trying to keep his steps quiet, trying to make the rhythm of them drive the message into his head like nails in a coffin. Tries to make each step a pulled trigger, a punch connecting. All the things he’s done that he can’t take back now. It’s too late for you, but is it too late for—

A floorboard creaks, footsteps. He stops, turning, an angry reminder on his lips that he’s the paradigm and he can walk down their hallways at 3am if he damn well wants, but it freezes on his lips when he sees June.

She’s dry, now, but her hair is clumped together and hanging limp. There’s dark makeup smudged around her eyes, and she looks miserable, hugging a quilt around her shoulders, wearing clothes the Williams had dug out of their late child’s closet. Eri hadn’t been much older than she is. Denis didn’t want to think about that right now. He’s moving back towards her before he even fully knows what he’s doing.

“It’s 3am.” He says. “You should—”

“I’m hungry.” She says, and ah. Right. Food. His own stomach’s probably been protesting a while, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it anymore.

He sighs. “—okay.”

She eyes him for a second. “I don’t remember where the kitchen is,” She says.

Denis is almost certain that’s a lie, if only because the Adams and the Williams families have a working relationship. She’s surely been here before, the rich and influential people in town having their dinners and the kids sitting between them. Or so he assumed. He’d stopped attending social functions after he’d killed his father.

He sighs, gesturing with one hand, and she turns and heads back the way she came— shamelessly leading the way now that she’s sure he’s following. He almost smiles.

It’s quiet as they get to the kitchen— Denis leaning on the counter as June opens the fridge and shuffles through it. There’s something about the quiet that feels expectant, so Denis is prepared for it when she says—

“So you saved me.”

“I did.” He confirms.

“Why?”

It’s the question he expected, but it’s like a kick in the chest anyway. He breathes through it.

“—because.” he says. “I didn’t want you to die.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. It doesn’t feel like enough at all. He doesn’t know how to say it, but somehow, he finds more words.

“When I was your age, I was really miserable.” he says, studying the wooden ceiling. “—I never got to— I always had something to live for. But for a while there, I... forgot how it felt. To be happy. And that made it harder. Because even when I had a mission it was hard to care about it. Hard to find the world important enough to save. And then I was sixteen, and i... met a girl.”

June snorts. “Really?” She deadpans. “You’re gonna sell me a story that I should live because I’m gonna fall in love someday?”

“No.” Denis deadpans. “Actually I only got to date her for a few years and then my dad tried to kill her and we broke up.”

June’s eyes widen, a little, and Denis half-smiles at her. “Not a lot of happy endings. I’m not going to promise you one. What I’m going to promise you is that they’ll be good days. They’ll be reasons the world’s worth saving, even if it’s only your own.”

“I kinda feel like you’re not speaking metaphorically.”

“I’m not.”

June eyes him. “—Mom always said I shouldn’t talk to you.”

“She’s probably right.” Denis allows, even through the little flare of hurt. He’d barely spoken three words to Mary Beth Adams. That felt uncalled for. Fair. Correct. But to this town he’d only ever be his father’s son, after all.

“Is it true that you guys kill people?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Denis takes a deep breath, lets it out. “—because there’s something out past the stars.” He says, trying to find the words. He usually wasn’t the one giving this pitch. “It’s asleep. And when it wakes up, everything ends. And if we feed people to it, we can keep it asleep. But every once in a while, it....rolls over. Shifts. And things happen, here. The world shifts. There are monsters. And there are monsters anyway, ones that look like people. And sometimes the only way to beat them is to become a bigger one.”

June eyes him. “...so you’re stopping the world from ending.”

Denis meets her eyes. “Yes.”

She nods, once. “—and it. Helps you too?”

“It helps to have a purpose.” Denis says, only half sure he’s telling the truth. “—and to not be alone in it.”

“....I wouldn’t have to be alone?”

“You don’t have to be alone now.” Denis says. “—I didn’t save you to convince you to join a cult, June. I saved you because you’re worth saving. As you are. Now.”

He’s barely gotten the words out before she moves, and he tenses, his instincts flashing something bright and red and alarming, but she’s just thrown herself into his chest, pressing her face into his sweater, and after a tentative second, he lowers his arms and hugs her back, takes a deep breath, trying to remember how to—

She doesn’t seem concerned by his hesitation, clinging.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

Denis manages to squeeze a little, gently. “—You’re going to be alright.” he murmurs.

He’ll make sure of it.

#oc tag #aspera project #denis archibald #original fiction

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morganas-pendragons · 3 years ago

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What are you though about the Master Chief Characterization in the last few episodes?

I’m asking because I’m on board with the Halo show, I get that it’s a different timeline…but I really don’t get what they’re doing with this whole ‘I trust no one’ kinda bordering on ruthless master chief? I my not saying that there no reason for his anger towards Halsey… but it’s being whiten as more of a personal vengeance than Master Chief wanting justice for the Spartans. Also, the lack of trust IN HIS OWN TEAM seems to go not only against game canon but also the show’s own canon.

Maybe because of the ‘lone wolf’ action hero trope? I mean I hope there’s a return to the team aspect, because it’s feeling more Rambo than master chief. What direction do you think they’re going here?

Well first off, I am so glad someone asked me this. I have SO many opinions about this show that I've only engaged with a few people about. Here we go!

He is drastically different from John in the games. John in the games is so.. tired. He's tired. Specifically in Halo Infinite since everything and everyone he's loved has been pulled out from under his feet. John in the show is so driven by his emotions and it's a fantastic contrast because John in the games is okay with what he is and who he became. John in the show just wants someone to tell him the truth for once, and his connection to the Artifact is giving him more answers in like a week then Halsey could give him in several decades.

As far as Show!John is concerned? While it is bewildering behavior for the character of the Master Chief in general, I think the behavior for Show!John makes sense. His childhood was taken from him unwillingly. He was created to be something he clearly didn't want to be, and Halsey spent the last couple of decades lying to them. John was groomed. He deserves to be as angry as he is.

And as for Silver Team, I agree. I know the games didn't introduce Blue until Guardians - which drove me nuts, because they're some of the last Spartan II's and a HUGE part of Game!John's character - but Silver are literally the equivalent of John's siblings and the only connection we've really seen to that extent is his relationship with Kai. I don't particularly care for Riz and Vannak yet and my hope is that they eventually give those two some character development because I want to see his relationship with Silver.

John will eventually have to come to learn how to trust people. I think he trusts Silver more then others, but what I really am looking forward to is for him to learn to trust Cortana. This is Pre-Game Era John.. so there's still alot of development for us to witness!

#anonymous #answered

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diamondcitydarlin · 4 years ago

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I am just...honestly fascinated by this sudden ‘change of heart’ with Guillermo tho in regards to being a familiar and becoming a vampire, there’s a lot going on there and a lot to unpack, and I’m hoping somewhere in the depths of what is about to be a long, directionless rant I’ll find the clarity I haven’t seemed to quite grasp yet.

ALSO I’M SORRY THIS IS A LOOONG ASS POST BUT I DIDN’T WANT TO PUT IT UNDER A READ MORE AND SUBJECT INNOCENTS TO MY BLOG LOL, BUT I’VE TAGGED ACCORDINGLY

So, I already made a post about ‘Collaboration’ and some of the interesting subtext we get within that episode. Mainly, that this episode is an interesting one for Guillermo because he finally gets what appears to be and should be (at least at first) the opportunity he’s always been waiting for. To this point, across seasons, Guillermo has driven home that his one and only aspiration in life, the reason he tolerates an endless, shitty position, is because he hopes to become a vampire. He’s wanted it since he was a kid. IF HE CAN’T BECOME A VAMPIRE, WHAT HAS THIS ALL BEEN ABOUT??

If it was as simple as just wanting to become a vampire by any means necessary, leaving Nandor for this golden opportunity should have been as easy as taking off an ill-fitting pair of shoes...but it wasn’t that, was it? When Nandor pretended to shuck him off as if it didn’t matter, Guillermo got angry and sad in equal measure and only really brightened again when Nandor came back and promised to do better by him. Not necessarily set down a concrete timeline for the ‘becoming a vampire’ thing though, but Guillermo didn’t seem to care about that all that much anyway. Interesting.

Now we’re able to see a version of things in which Guillermo is being treated better as a familiar, but rather than this development improving his mood he seems all the more aware of the fact now that...maybe he doesn’t even want to be a vampire anymore. Maybe he’s wasting his time here. Maybe he needs to swim towards open waters, so to speak.

Very similar to Nandor, Guillermo, I think, is not really aware or fully accepting of the inner workings of his own mind. He strikes me as a character that does a lot in the way of burying the truths of himself so far down, he even convinces himself that part of who he is doesn’t really exist- even when it does, and drives a lot of his actions. The show plays to this by only ‘showing’ us concretely how much Guillermo wants us to know, with only small hints and nods to other things going on. That fits and rings true to the norm for a mockumentary style of filming/writing, in that the audience has to rely on a lot of subtle cues from the subjects to figure out what’s ‘really going on’ with a character or plot line; the ‘camera’ in a mockumentary style piece is as much of a visceral, present character as anyone else in the cast and is treated accordingly (but then, like 99.99999% of human beings have seen the entirety of The Office and Parks and Rec, so yall know this already)

I think part of the way to figuring this all out is to ask why Guillermo wanted to be a vampire in the first place. His answer to this would probably be something along the lines of ‘because they’re cool’ which, you know, valid. That would be a fitting and satisfying answer if, say, I had given it because there was a time when I was about 4-6 years old that I, too, decided I would grow up to be a vampire. Because it was ‘cool’ and aspiring to anything else seemed boring. Again, valid. For someone who has dedicated pretty much ALL of his adult life to apprenticing into vampirism based on a childhood dream that never died? THAT begs a bit more of an in depth reason, I think, to which for now we can only guess.

I’ll try to make an educated one based on what I believe is going on here, that Guillermo himself is either not aware of or not ready to share with the cameras: I believe his drive to want to become a vampire, given it was based in childhood flights of fancy (and probably some Guillermo-self insert/Armand fanfics, let’s be hONEST) was rooted in a need to feel respected and powerful, at the heart of things. When we first meet Guillermo, and for much of season 1, we see that he’s quiet, subservient, meek, and we learn briefly about how he was bullied in school. I think Guillermo was raised to be this way and use silence/subservience as his only defense mechanism, which may also go a long way to explaining why he’s so reserved. For 10 years, I think it was enough for him to tell himself that everything would be better for him once he became a vampire, he’d have all the things he never had as a human. Respect. Appreciation. Power. Control over his own life.

That said, things have changed quite a bit for Guillermo since season one. While learning that he had Van Helsing blood came as an unpleasant shock, embracing and exploring that side of himself proved that he’s actually kind of a bad ass even without being a vampire. He only ever wielded this power to protect Nandor and others so far, but it is a power nonetheless, this agility and strength that is too great for even VAMPIRES to successfully fight back against. He’s also a smart cookie that knows how to manipulate a situation, something that he’s been using a lot this season too. So, power, then. He has it already. Respect he received from his vampire-hunting group.

But that still leaves appreciation and, dare I say it, maybe even affection/love. I think there’s a part of Guillermo that wants to feel like he’s accepted and cared for, but even when it’s offered (by groups like his vampire hunting clan, or Celeste’s vampire community lol) he seems to shy away from it going too far, like it’s just too much or ill-fitting coming from people he barely knows. Given that he’s a private, introvert type this makes sense.

One thing has remained consistent for Guillermo though, across both seasons and episodes, and that’s his seemingly unwavering concern and affection for Nandor. Even in this last ep when he’s unashamedly shucking off duties that don’t fit his job description and maintaining those professional boundaries like a BOSS, he still snaps to and gets to work the moment Nandor is kidnapped. Laszlo’s gone? Meh, who cares, not his jurisdiction. Nandor’s gone!?? Fuck it, he’s getting the keys. A ‘vampire’ offers him the opportunity of a lifetime to become a vampire quickly and live within an accepting community of likeminded people and Nandor told him ‘go for it’? He’s upset that Nandor didn’t fight harder to keep him.

So now he’s back and Nandor’s making a consistent effort not to abuse Guillermo’s position. This seemed the ideal resolution at the end of ‘Collaboration’, but after a couple of weeks it becomes clear that it wasn’t. For some reason. Guillermo’s no longer satisfied and thinks maybe it’s time to do more with his life.

I’ll try to sum up the points I’ve made so far into a concise version of where I think Guillermo’s at right now, at least subconsciously; mostly all the things he hoped that turning into a vampire would grant him, have already been granted. He’s learned that he’s strong, smart, capable as is, more than he or anyone else had ever given him credit for. I think it makes sense that his burning need to become a vampire has begun to ebb into a quarter-life crisis of questioning who he really is and what he really wants, because the dream he nursed for so long has turned out to be pretty shallow and maybe not even necessary. He realizes there’s more he could be doing than working tirelessly to an end goal that no longer seems so sweet.

But that leaves the ‘affection’ and ‘acceptance’ elements dangling in space, held up by his own affection for Nandor that has yet to be really defined. It’s pretty clear that Guillermo is nursing it hard, but what is the nature of it? Even as his sense of loyal devotion to a cause has started to fade, even as his view of Nandor as this unflappable role model has begun to disappear too bc he’s starting to see Nandor for who he really is (a himbo idiot that he can outwit, outmatch without even trying hard) this raw affection still remains. It’s still important that Nandor fights for him. It’s still important that Nandor is safe and protected.

And, as with the rest of these things I mentioned, I don’t think Guillermo is even really aware of how much he cares about Nandor, how much it drives his actions and thinking, how important that relationship is to him. It’s easier to just sort of...ignore that and pretend it isn’t a factor, that’s Guillermo’s modus operandi when it comes to complicated feelings.

I think back to that line from season 1, wherein Guillermo’s kind of musing wistfully about how different his life might have been if he’d stayed at Panera Bread/in a stable job with pay and benefits, but then handwaves that all away with ‘The heart wants what it wants’. By this point in the show he was already kind of drifting away from the goal of becoming a vampire (whether he realized it or not).

The heart wants what it wants indeed, Guillermo, but maybe it’s not really ‘becoming a vampire’. Maybe it’s something else entirely that keeps you tied to this house, this thankless ‘job’.

At this point, I really cannot say for 100% certain what I think will happen next with Guillermo. This show has proven solid at pulling out unexpected plot twists I wouldn’t have seen coming, but then, I also have been pretty good at predicting where they’re gonna go with things. Like 7/10 lmao. My two theories right now are:

He’ll become a vampire in the series finale- unwillingly, maybe by accident. This one I think is plausible because it’s a bit of a kick in the pants. It’s the outcome he’s wanted for SO LONG but has just realized maybe it’s not all he can do or wants to do. I could see a situation where, idk, maybe Guillermo expresses to Nandor his thoughts lately about moving on from this and, in an act of stupid desperation, Nandor thinks maybe if he changes him that’ll keep him in his life, so he does it while Guillermo’s asleep and then surprises him when he wakes up...only to find out maybe that wasn’t actually what he wanted anymore, but UH OH what’s done is done. This could provide a lot of tension in the next season, I think. But as it’s a bit of a ‘shocking’ twist type route to go, I can’t be certain this is what they’ll do. Kind of a toss up.

Guillermo leaves to pursue something else, which the camera crew will follow and document. This is the ‘sensible’/’safe’ route that most scripted shows would take, I think, in this situation...but again, I’m not certain about this one either because Shadows is known for throwing us for a loop and this seems a liiiittle predictable. It’s also very similar to what JUST happened in episode 8 and, were I writing the show, I’d worry it would come across as redundant. Like, maybe we already did this angle and should explore other options to keep the audience on their toes. Also, as much as they love putting Harvey with new casts of characters for episodic stories, I’m not sure they’d transplant him from the main cast for an extended period of time because he’s part of what makes that dynamic run so well. But then, the synopsis of the finale does say that vampires have to ‘survive without Guillermo’ while preparing for an event, so this may happen in some small, episodic measure again.

Anyway, to wrap this up into a conclusion, I don’t think I’m wrong in predicting that Nandor/Guillermo’s relationship has been set up in such a way as to keep us guessing, sort of a Sam/Diane, will-they-won’t-they type thing that will remain a constant throughout whatever happens next, but will require both characters growing independent of each other in their own respective subplots. At this point, it has always remained consistent that Nandor and Guillermo prioritize each other even when it doesn’t make sense, but I don’t think either of them are ready to realize, accept, and sort through the layers of what they feel for each other. The master/servant dynamic makes that difficult, I’d imagine, so I think inevitably we’ll see the show start to pull them away from that. All I’m saying is, if whatever is going on between them wasn’t VERY complicated it would’ve been resolved as whatever it is a long time ago. Nah, there’s some deep, repressed shit they’re ignoring collectively for whatever reason, and usually that points to something that will, at some point, become romantic. Either way, to understand Guillermo is to keep a close eye on how his dynamic with Nandor grows and changes and I’m, as ever, VERY eager to see how it does.

#guillermo de la cruz #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #wwdits #what we do in the shadows tv show #long post #meta

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peter-laufeyson · 5 years ago

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i could lie and say i like it

summary: the darkness is calling for ben and reader; the future of the galaxy is at stake!

pairing: kylo ren x sibling!reader & poe dameron x reader

word count: 2k+

warnings: none

author’s note: you choose how to interpret your ending!!

BEN AND [Y/N] were children of Leia and Han Solo. Their powers combined could cause absolute destruction to the galaxy. Though, they grew up with their loving parents that such a thing never happened at their young age.

As time went on the two siblings grew close. Their relationship was strong and they hardly ever argued with each other, a special bond that is rare. Their parents, Leia and Han, noticed this and admired it for they've never seen such a thing before. Right about their age, 17, the time would soon come to be more responsible with the force and stop using it to do their beds while just sitting on the floor.

It was a cold, quiet night. Ben and [Y/N] were fast asleep and they had been out in the town all day. All was well. The family was peacefully sleeping, yet there's always something to ruin a perfect moment.

[Y/N] shifted uncomfortably in her bed. She frowned in her sleep as she felt darkness and heat. Her breathing became fast and hard, practically panting.

Ben woke from feeling a disturbance. He ran to your side as he saw the wall against your bed burning slowly. He panicked and called for his parents immediately. When Han and Leia saw you shaking in your sleep, they instantly became worried.

Not thinking, Ben touched your hand and felt and saw everything in your dreams. He saw a throne being built from anger. He saw the flames arising around a dark clocked man. He felt the fear of civilians and yourself. He felt the loneliness that darkness has to offer. This all happened with a few seconds. It only took a few seconds to tornment a young mind.

The two snapped out of the dream. Ben fell to the floor and [Y/N] stopped moving. Han and Leia held each child in their arms. They looked at each other with scared eyes.

"The darkness is calling to them," Han spoke up.

"It knows what power they posses," Leia spoke as she had a frightened gaze at the floor. "What can we do?" Han asked brushing Ben's hair out of his face.

Leia looked at Han, she had a hurtful look on her face as she knew what must be done.

10 years later...

"Pepare my ship and set course for Ashba," Kylo Ren hissed to a General.

Kylo Ren was on a mission to find his beloved sister. Their connection was broken and he needed power and you had it. Though you have been separated for 10 years, he had heard rumors of your whereabouts, yet everywhere he searched you were no where to he found. He'd also heard rumors that you work with the Resistance. He wondered if you knew what happened to him, what he went through.

If Kylo found you, what were his plans? Would he keep you prisoner forever? Would he unwillingly turn you to the dark side?

"Sir, we are arriving at Ashba in two minutes" a general informed him. Kylo left to his ship, preparing for take off.

---

"You rebel trash!" You huffed at Poe as he shoved you against the wall. Your faces so close. He kissed your neck and walked away.

"Better trash than what ever you are," he scuffed. You fixed your shirt as it had been a little disorganized.

"You probably fly better than me but I'll always be stronger than you," you replied, standing tall.

He came close and pulled you to him. Staring into his eyes and he held you like his possession.

"I own you, damn it."

"That's for damn sure," you kissed him quickly and pushed him off. Other Rebels passed by and glanced as if it was nothing new to their eyes.

"Are you done?" Leia slightly raised her voice as she walked up to them. She gave them the look that they've gathered new intelligence. They quickly followed her as they wondered what might've just happened.

"We've just gotten word that the First Order may be planning an attack. They're coming to us." She said with a low, frighten tone.

"This is our base. We know it better than them," Poe stated as Leia tried to understand his point.

"Poe is right. Some of us could hide and attack them from behind and they'll never see it coming!" You confidently added.

Leia stepped closer to you and you studied her wondering what was on her mind. "Ben is coming..." your eyes stayed blank but your heart fell to the middle of the galaxy, "...he's coming for you."

You couldn't believe it. Your breathing has never felt so lost before. In seeking for assurance, you searched her mind. It was true, although there was a part of her mind that she was concealing from you. You tried to search more, but you pulled back.

"This isn't an attack. It's a kidnapping..." you whispered to yourself.

People looked up and shouted and ran for their defense positions.

"Take Leia and go. I have something I need to get!" You demand and ran off to your room.

---

"Take the troops and surround the base. I need the General and her daughter alive." Kylo hissed and left the ship after the troopers exited.

The First Order stomped on their base, but with more troopers, the resistance was crumbling down to its last fighters.

---

"Rey!" You ran through the whole base. The only thing giving you energy was the fear of being caught.

"Rey!" Calling out again, you turned a corner and found her and Finn finishing off some troopers. "He's here Rey, he's here..." as you repeated, you let the thought sink in. You then continued in extreme panic. "I can't face him Rey, I'm not strong enough! I'm not like you yet!" Finn wondered who they were talking about.

"You've know him a great time ago. He's the same inside, but you can't give in to him. You are much stronger than I am, you just don't know it yet." Rey held you in her arms.

You and Rey have been close for a few years now. She trained you only in combat, only because you refused and doubted the lightsaber. She mentored you with resisting the dark and learning to keep people out of your mind. More and more you grew confident in how strong you were. But it wasn't enough now.

Though there was a secret kept from you. Everyone seemed to know but you. You never knew there was a secret being kept from you. Although Leia knew she would now regret her decision. What was the secret?

You went to your room and got something that may spark a side that was kept quiet. "Don't be weak..." you whispered to yourself and left.

---

"Supreme Leader, the General's daughter has been spotted in the west wing of the north tower." Kylo's head quickly snapped in the direction you were in and he stormed his way to you.

---

Fighting some highly trained troopers, you were struggling. They had you pinned and you continued to shoot and maneuver your way through them with just a blaster and your hands.

While fighting the highly trained troopers, you felt your heart getting pulled down from the inside. A dark presence was headed your way.

"Agh!" You yelled as you were shot on your left arm. Quickly shooting at the trooper, and ran to a corner and looked at the wound. Silently crying, you wipped your tears and got back up to finish the remaining troopers.

You exhaled deeply and shot the last one. You turned around to find a man in dark long robes with a mask standing on the other side of the hall.

It was the Supreme Leader. This time, you knew a blaster wouldn't do the job.

"I've been looking for you..." he said calmly.

In confusion you replied, "You found the base and you've already killed almost all of us. What must you need from me?"

"Your power," he stated. You were confused. Why couldn't you understand what was happening?

He walked to you as you stood where you were just watching in fear of what he might do. Then he stood in front of you. He was tall and looked far more stronger. He reached for his helmet and then put it down on the floor.

Your eyes widen. In acts of fear, you turned around and ran. He froze you in place before you could move more that two steps away from him.

"I've missed you so much sister. We have much to talk about." He drew your conscious away and carried you back to the ship.

"We were unable to find the General Supreme Leader."

"Keep searching. It's only a matter of time before she gives herself up." He replied and laid you gently on the floor. He gave the pilot permission to take off. He sat next to you and touched your delicate face. He looked at the lightsaber attached to your waist and realized it was Leia's. But he grew in wonder, for he didn't know why you wouldn't use it when he saw you struggling to fight the advanced stormtroopers.

---

"What the hell! Why are we in here?" Poe yelled in anger to Leia.

"Sit down. This is a fight that [Y/N] must face on her own." Leia put her head down in defeat. She felt as if she already lost [Y/N].

Poe stared at her in utter confusion.

---

Your eyes slowly opened with a blurry vision. You slowly lifted your head looking around. Your eyes met a needle that was injected in your arm. The needle was taking your blood over and over again. Soon, you wouldn't have enough blood to keep you alive. Your body was in restraints, but it didn't matter because you couldn’t even move from the lack of energy.

Soon after, double doors opened automatically to Ben. He stood out from the white room they where in. You wondered what was going to happen next.

"What do you want Ben?" You said sternly as he walked in closer to you.

"Your power," there was a pause "I don't believe you understand your power [Y/N].”

"I haven't used the force since you left me and Master Skywalker!”

"You have, actually..." Ben stated.

You frowned and thought of any moments when you used the force.

"When mother told you I was coming and you searched her mind. Then again when you felt my presence. The act caused you to search your feelings and remember the memories we share." Ben explained.

You blink, looking down at the floor not even realizing you had used the force.

"How did you know I searched my feelings and mother's?" You questioned.

He walked even closer you to, "Sister... must you learn that I have searched the galaxy to find you. I want you to join me and together we can be all powerful."

For a slight second you imagine how amazing it would be to finally be together. Then you came back to your senses and realized the terrible idea.

"I want to..." You spoke softly, still weak from the needle ejecting blood.

"What troubles you, sister?" Ben questioned.

"If I join you... I'd be betraying the resistance. Rey. Poe. Mother. Father." Your eyes fell to the floor as they grew thick tears.

Suddenly the needle pulled out and the restraints opened. You couldn't support your own weight, so Ben held you and laid you on his lap. As you and Ben were on the floor you looked to the ceiling and remembered the laughs you both had and the lightsaber fights that were endless and intense.

"I could lie say I like it like that." You turned your eyes to him. He looked so soft and lovingly as he held you.

He no longer wanted your power. Ben just wanted his sister back without trouble of the resistance or the First Order. He knew what he had to do.

He sat you up and hugged you tight, then he pulled away to look at you.

"You won't have to lie. I will keep us together, just like you've always wanted."

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angel-tries-to-write · 5 years ago

Text

Heartbroken

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Rating: Mature Pairing: Ezio Auditore x fem!reader Word count: 3889 Genre: mostly fluff with a slight of hurt/comfort, smutty in the latter part

Your childhood friend Ezio shows up to your doorstep completely heartbroken. You try to cheer him up, because that’s what a friend would do. A friend that may or may not have a massive crush on the other.

A/N: It was supposed to be a nice, short fic, but it has almost 4k words! I was inspired by the end of relationship with Caterina Sforza (though wiki made it appear more dramatic than it really was). I don’t speak Italian, so if there’s something wrong, I’m terribly sorry. Also it gets a bit smutty later, so be warned. I have a few ideas for the sequel, so if anyone would be interested, just let me know.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you had a free night. All for yourself, no need to go out and work, which you liked, but not necessarily in this weather. You preferred to enjoy the rain from your warm home and you were currently doing that. You were sitting by the fireplace in your nightgown, with a book that your best friend recommended you. She always had a good taste, which was probably why she was in a secret relationship with your childhood friend, Ezio Auditore. He was a wonderful man, you never doubted it, no matter what was told about him.

You’ve been out of town when this happened. The betrayal of the Auditore. You wished so bad you could’ve been there for Ezio when he needed you, but your mother said that you could’ve been killed if you were in Florence back then. Besides you didn’t know the truth at first, though you couldn’t believe that the Auditore could be traitors. Your family was friends with them and you knew them all your life. They were good people. Your doubts were gone a few months later, when you felt on your own skin what Ezio’s gone through. Your father had been arrested and then executed, like the Auditore before. He was accused of collaborating with Giovanni, but luckily they took only him, you and your mother were safe for long enough to leave Florence. The night your father was taken, you’ve found his journal in your bed. He knew they were coming for him, so he did all he could to make sure the truth is safe. You’ve learned that he found out that the Auditore were betrayed, you’ve learned about Assassins and Templars, a conflict your father tried to stay away from and failed, then you decided to act. You left your mother in Milan, where your older brother lived, and you found Ezio in Venice. He promised to train you in exchange for help and here you were now, a true Assassin and his biggest help.

But even superheroes need rest, so as soon as you’ve reached your current home, you decided to leave your mission for tomorrow. A bath and fire’s warmth helped your muscles to relax and after a few chapters of your book, your eyes started to close. Your little nap was interrupted by strong knocking to the door. Your first feeling was fear, but it was quickly gone when you heard the voice calling your name. You knew it very well and you loved it. As well as the person who it belonged to. You put the book aside and approached the door to open it.

“May I come in?” asked Ezio, as soon as he saw your face. He didn’t look good and it wasn’t only because he was soaking in the rain.

“Why do you even ask, the answer never changes” you smiled, moving aside to let him in. “What do you need?” you asked when he entered and you closed the door. You watched him take off his wet robes, armor and weapon. It meant he was planning to stay for a while, maybe even for the night. Not that you minded.

“I don’t know” he answered and you heard a sadness in his voice. You didn’t need trained senses to know something was wrong.

“Ezio, what happened?” you asked, very concerned. You would die for him, you didn’t want him to be sad either.

“(Your name), I… it is about (Your best friend’s name )” he confessed after a moment of silence and you felt cold crawling down your spine and your (eyes color) eyes widened. (Y/bf/n) was your best friend, you two were like sisters. You couldn’t imagine what would you do if something happened to her.

“Is something wrong with her? Is she in trouble? Did someone hurt her?” you came so close to the man in front of you, that you could see every detail of his pretty face you already knew by heart. But it didn’t matter now, you needed to know what happened to your friend.

“She is fine, nothing is wrong” he calmed you. “It is about what she did.”

You let out a long sigh of relief. Your friend was safe, you had nothing to be afraid of. The rest could wait for now.

“Bene allora (Alright then). Go take a bath, relax a little and get warm, I will make some food and find a good wine” you decided and Ezio replied with a small smile. He did as he was told and when the food was ready and you realized you’re starving because you forgot to eat today, he came back in fresh clothes you always kept for him. He had some for you in his place and you were in the same terms with (y/bf/n), that was how friendship worked.

“I’m a bit better now, grazie (thanks)” said the assassin, moving his damp hair aside and you smiled. A hot bath after running in the rain was always good. He joined you by the table and you two ate while talking about some funny stuff. But after you moved to the couch, you felt it was time to find what happened between the two of your friends.

“So? Do you need a shoulder to cry on, or do you need more wine first?” you teased. He could be very emotional after too much alcohol and you both knew it.

“Molto divertente (Very funny)” the man replied sarcastically and took a sip of wine. You occasionally teased each other and if he wasn’t taken already, you could’ve sworn sometimes that he was flirting with you.

“Tell me what is wrong” you asked and held his hand.

“I need more wine first” he said emptying his cup and pouring himself more. You waited patiently, no rush or pressure, though you were dying to know all the story.

“Take your time. I don’t think you would be going anywhere soon” you stated firmly, in case he wanted to disagree. Climbing the buildings while being drunk was a terrible idea.

“Even if I had to, you would not let me out” he forced a small smile. “You were always so good (y/n) and you cared about me.”

“Ezio, what do you-”

“She said I never meant anything to her. That she wanted me for fun and to learn some things. Now that she got what she wanted, she did not need me anymore” he continued, ignoring your interruption.

“Che puttana (What a bitch)” you swore, unwillingly saying it out loud.

“I thought you were friends” Ezio was clearly surprised.

“We are, but it does not mean she can hurt my other friend. What was she thinking? I’m totally going to kick her ass when I see her” you snapped angrily.

“Don’t do this. She does not deserve it” he protested, emptying his cup again and putting it away. “But thanks.”

“She deserves everything. How dared she to hurt you like this? She knew very well what does she mean to you, she had no right to act like this.”

“(Y/n), you can’t kick your best friend’s butt just because she does not reciprocate my feelings” the assassin was even slightly amused. “It is (y/bf/n)’s every right to not have feelings for me.”

“Ezio, mio caro (my dear), you are as important to me as she was until this moment. If you were the one who hurt her, I would kick your butt in a heartbeat” you answered. No one would hurt your friends, not even your other friends.

“Thank you, amica (friend)” he said, hugging you. “I could stay like this all night” he added after a while.

“That can be arranged” you replied and you leaned against the cushions, pulling him onto you. His head lied on your chest and he closed his eyes, listening to your heartbeat. You two lied like that for a while, you started to play with his loosened hair you liked so much. “At least you might notice something aside her now. If you only knew… I wish I could tell you everything” you whispered, pretty sure he was asleep.

“What everything?” he asked quietly.

“Niente (Nothing). I was talking to myself” you blurted out. It was a terrible excuse, but you couldn’t come up with anything better. Ezio felt you tense so he lift his head to look you in the eyes.

“È così (Is that so)? Because I have heard something different” he said smirking and your already pink cheeks reddened even more. At least his sadness was gone now, its place took mischief. “I have heard you want me. I have not believed it at first but I am not sure anymore.”

“Who told you that? And why would you even think like that?” you were a blushy mess and unbeknownst to you, he found it adorable.

“Why would I think like what?” he clearly teased you. He wanted you to say it out loud. Fine, if he wanted to play, you could play along.

“That I want you” you answered shamelessly like it was nothing. Except for your furiously red face, rapid pulse and heavy breathing.

“You are telling me that. With all your body. You are blushing hard, you can not breathe, you have goosebumps and that are only the obvious things” his eyes ogled your body in a way you didn’t expect. Suddenly you felt an urge to grab a blanket and cover yourself despite being fully clothed. You felt naked under this look, you could’ve sworn he was already undressing you in his mind.

“I-I think you have drank too much w-wine” you stuttered, trying to hide that you were scared. You’ve dreamed of this moment but when it finally came, nothing was like you imagined it.

“(Y/bf/n) told me that if I will be sad after our breakup I can always have you, because you are head over heels for me. Is this true?” he forced you to look in his eyes. You could’ve lied to him, but not after this much wine, when your body did what it wanted to and reacted so strongly to his actions.

“No” you said softly. “It is just a little crush, nothing much” you tried to brush it off. It wasn’t the truth, but it also wasn’t a lie.

“Is it?” he moved closer towards you, his lips almost touched yours.

“Ezio, you are drunk” you put your hands on his shoulders, but you didn’t push him away.

“Anche tu (So are you).”

“But not enough to lose my common sense” you moved one hand to his cheek. You wanted to kiss him so bad, your body burned with desire, but you knew it wouldn’t end good. You didn’t want to lose years of friendship for a one night. Even if it was your dream.

“Are you afraid of me? Do you think I want to use you the same way (y/bf/n) used me?” he asked, pulling away to look at you.

“No. I am afraid that this might ruin us and our friendship” you confessed. You’ve never been scared of him and through all these years you’ve known him for, you’ve seen a lot. You could handle him at his worst, maybe then you deserved to have him at his best?

“Non lo farà (It won’t). Look, I know it is pretty awkward, cause we know each other since we were little. But I always had a soft spot for you. I often wondered what would happen if we were together. To be honest, I even expected our fathers would arrange a marriage for us when the time comes. But then all of this happened, our fathers are gone and everything started to depend on us and you did not seem to be interested, so I never pushed. Then I fell into (y/bf/n) and I was too blind to see that you are interested” he said and brushed aside a strand of your (hair color) hair.

“Are you telling me that you had a crush on me? And you still had been sleeping with my best friend who is married, unlike me?” you asked, your voice revealed that it hurt you. It also didn’t make any sense, why would he say something like that? And why now?

“It is all fucked up, I know. And I would probably neither tell you that nor act like that if I was sober. But I am not and all I want right now is you” he admitted, burying his face in your neck. You shivered visibly when you felt his breath on your sensitive skin.

“Ezio, you know I would do anything for you, but this? This is madness. I do not want you to sleep with me just to feel better after breakup” you protested. You wanted this, even needed, but you also wanted it to be meaningful. You didn’t want to be a one night stand, a mere cheer-up. You needed something more.

“I do not” he purred in a voice so low that you let out a small moan you didn’t manage to silence. “I want to sleep with you because I really want it. I just need to know that you want me too.”

“I do” you choked. “But I am scared” you whispered, cursing your sudden honesty. If you truly wanted him to stop, you could’ve knock him out and leave. The problem was that you were torn between what you wanted and what was right.

“Di me (Of me)?”

“I would never be scared of you, stupido” you smiled relaxing a little. “It’s just…”

“Dimmi (Tell me)” he pleaded, but suddenly a realization hit him and you felt him freeze. “You are a virgin” he more stated than asked as he pulled back to look at you and if your face could be any redder it would be now. You couldn’t look him in the eye, even though it was no shame in it.

“That is not a problem, but… Well, when I was younger, I wanted to wait for the right person. And later, when all this… war started… I was just too busy to think about it. Then I fell into you and stuff got complicated even more” you confessed, finally admitting your feelings. “But it’s not what scares me the most.”

“(y/n) look at me” Ezio required so quiet, that you wouldn’t hear it if you weren’t so close. You barely manged to do as he told you, too embarrassed to relax. “Do not be ashamed. I am not going to laugh at you. I asked, because I want you to be comfortable. If you let me, I will make this night the best you have ever had” he promised.

“I always knew you are a romantic one, but never thought you are this cheesy” you joked drinking more wine and Ezio laughed.

“That’s my girl” he praised you. “So, what do you want me to do?”

You put your cup aside and took a deep breath.

“I want you to shut up. I am gonna take a leap of faith” you answered and you kissed him hard, just like you wanted it now. It was nothing like a romantic and awkward first kiss you dreamed of, it was hot and passionate and needy. You felt his hands on your body and you no longer resisted. You wanted this, you wanted him and you were going to take what you wanted.

Suddenly you felt him lift you. He stood up, desperately trying to stay straight, which was difficult while being drunk. You looked at him with curiosity.

“I want it to be done properly” he answered your silent question, carrying you to your bedroom. “Besides your couch is uncomfortable” he complained and you laughed.

“Just don’t drop me then” you smiled. He did, in fact, drop you and you were angry at first, but you quickly realized you landed on your bed and it just made you laugh. Ezio laughed too and when your eyes met, you’ve seen in his something you never expected to see. He looked at you with adoration so big like you were the only girl in the world. You always wanted to have someone who would look at you like that, but you never had anyone. And now you did.

“What?” he asked softly, noticing the delight in your eyes.

“I am just glad I have you and we finally make my dream come true” you said quietly and he smiled. The man leaned down to kiss you and you immediately started to work on taking off his shirt. He helped you, so soon you could admire his upper body and there was a lot to admire. You broke the kiss to look at him and trace your fingers down every scar he had. Many of them you helped to treat. They reminded you of your own scars, which you were always ashamed of, but not in front of Ezio. He’d already seen all of them and you had seen his. He made a soft noise when you kissed a scar very close to his neck. Your lips quickly found the way to his sensitive spot and you stopped to think completely. The only thing that mattered was your assassin. Yours, and no one else’s.

He removed your nightgown, you took his pants off. Now was the time to get nervous, but you would notice you weren’t even a little scared, if you only paid attention to it. Besides, you trusted him with your life, you were able to trust him with your body. And he was taking care of you so well, that you couldn’t even think of stress, as well as anything else. He was kissing and touching your body, you weren’t even shy about the scars, the way you looked in general and that this was the first time a man was touching you like that. You felt very comfortable and you trusted him boundlessly.

You always heard that the first time hurts, there has to be pain and blood, and it’s not really pleasant. You were very lucky then, because you didn’t feel even a little pain when he finally slid inside you. Sure, it was a new feeling, you felt a slight discomfort at first, but no pain at all, just pleasure. You were prepared very well and he was so gentle and careful, so that wasn’t surprising. He really wanted it to be the best night of your life, so it was. Every stroke was bringing you closer and closer, you were discovering new feelings every second and even though you were usually insecure about new things, you weren’t then. You heard your partner say something into your neck, but you couldn’t understand a single word, yet the tone of his voice did its job. You reached your orgasm and the whole world was gone.

When it came back, it was morning and you had an uncomfortable hangover. You didn’t know what happened at first, then you saw your friend next to you and you shivered, feeling all the memories come back. You weren’t sure how many times did you do that, maybe once, maybe more. But then was the time to find out how things were going to be.

“Ciao, bella (Hello, beautiful)” Ezio’s raspy voice brought you back to the reality. You looked at him and saw the very same look you’ve seen last night. That couldn’t be a coincidence. “How do you feel?” he asked and you knew he really cared.

“Bene (Good). Actually never felt better” you answered, actually meaning that. “And you?”

“I feel like we wasted so much time. We should have done this way earlier” he said, kissing your forehead and his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer. You cuddled comfortably into his chest.

“You would not have appreciated it then” you smiled, feeling even happier.

“Forse (Perhaps). I realized I did not know how big difference it is when what you do is meaningful. You did not want to be a cheer-up, but I feel cheered up” he admitted with a soft laugh. “And I definitely want it to happen again, we should-”

“Ezio.”

“Si (Yes)?”

“Ti amo (I love you).”

You’ve never seen him this stunned before. But there was a valid reason: you’ve never said these words before. At least not in front of him. No wonder he was surprised.

“Ti amo anch'io, amica mia (I love you too, my friend)” he said, but quickly realized it came out wrong. “No, wait. I didn’t mean it like that, I mean-” you silenced him with a kiss.

“I know. But we can be both friends and lovers” you chuckled.

“I like that” Ezio smiled and you thought you were the luckiest woman in the whole Italy, if not the world, because you had this smile all for yourself. “Now I know why did it feel so different, but in a good way” he quickly added. “Like… it was meaningful. Not just for fun, although it was fun and-” he started to mess up even more, so you showed mercy and kissed him, making the poor man shut up again.

“I would never tell you can stumble over your own words in front of a girl” you teased. “What happened to your usual charm?”

“You are not just a random girl” he protested. “You are special. And this is a serious relationship.”

“Va bene (Alright), Mr. Smooth, how about we get up and make some breakfast?” you asked. “I am hungry.”

“How about no” his hand slid down your butt. “We will make some love now and then I will make you breakfast. Fair enough?”

“Not really, but I like that” you moved closer and kissed him. You’ve never been more happy before. You’ve always been scared of even the thought that you could sleep with your friend and now you knew it was the best idea ever.

Unfortunately your peace was interrupted by a strong knocking to the door. Looked like someone didn’t want you to stay in bed for too long.

“Can’t you pretend you are sleeping?” Ezio suggested, kissing your neck.

“Nice try. Now let me go, it is probably something important” you lightly slapped his hand. The man groaned, but let you go, then watched you quickly put on your nightgown and assassin’s robes as extra cover. You went to open the door, hoping that it’s not something important and you can go back to bed quickly. On the other side of your door stood Antonio, which meant it was important.

“(y/n)! We need to talk” he said and you’d seen it was something big. You didn’t say a word, but you let him in. “I will be quick: we have found out that (y/bf/n)’s husband is a Templar.”

“What about her?” you asked, fearing the worst.

“We don’t know. But we need to eliminate the man. Have you seen Ezio last night or do you by chance know where he is?” Antonio asked and you sighed. There was no reason to keep that secret.

“Un momento (One moment)” you excused and headed to the bedroom. “Get up, babe. We have a work to do.”

#assassin's creed #ezio auditore x reader #ezio x reader #ezio auditore #my fic

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tuiccim · 4 years ago

Text

Terrigenisis (Part 10)

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Bucky Barnes X Inhuman!Reader

Words: 1669

Summary: After undergoing terrigenisis unwillingly your life is turned upside down when you are deemed too dangerous to return to life as a civilian. You are put with the Avengers team to train and rebuild. As you hone your powers and skills, you must also decide if you can find home and love again. Or is your curse to be a lonely wanderer forever?

Warnings: Fluff and SMUT (18+, NSFW)

Terrigenisis Series Masterlist Divider by @firefly-graphics

As the months went by, the relationship between Steve, Bucky, and yourself became more and more solid. You talked about the future, made plans, and worked through the few issues that had arisen. There had been missions and you had become an integral part of the team. You were happy. You had a job you loved, two men you loved, a home, and a family in your team. It was idyllic. Which terrified you at times. When the fear began to overwhelm you, Bucky and Steve were there for you. They let you express your fears and helped you through them.

You were gearing up for a mission to take out a large Hydra base that had been recently discovered. The intel on its existence was solid even though what was going on there was a mystery. Some information had been gleaned through surveillance but it was mostly pictures of objects with an alien language. Thor and Loki were expected to arrive today to help and give some information on what these items could be.

The team was awaiting their arrival in the conference room except Steve and Tony who were greeting them. You were going over mission details and making tactical plans with the available information.

“So, what are Thor and Loki like?” You ask the group in general.

“Thor’s a good guy. Nice. A little terse at times. Intense.” Bruce replies.

“What about Loki?” You look at Bruce.

“He’s a bag of cats. He’s trying to be… different. Better, I guess. That’s why he’s coming. Thor is trusting him. I guess we’ll have to try, too.” Bruce shrugs as Natasha scoffs.

“Be careful around Loki. There’s a reason he’s the god of mischief.” Natasha warns.

“Noted.” You say just as they walk in. You immediately smile when you catch Steve’s eye but turn your attention to the two Asgardians as they enter. Steve makes introductions as Tony pulls up the intel photos for the two gods.

“This looks to be Kree.” Thor states.

“It is.” Loki confirms as he swipes through the photos.

“Kree?” You say bringing Thor’s attention to you.

“Yes. They-”

“Created Inhumans.”

“Yes. You are familiar with the Inhumans?” Thor asks.

“I am an Inhuman.” You watch the two for any reaction.

“Ah, a fellow abomination.” Loki grins. “What are your powers?”

You stare Loki down for a moment. Interpreting no malice in his remarks, you reply, “Warging, understanding of all vocal communication, increased strength and stamina.”

“Interesting.” Loki narrows his eyes.

“Warging?” Thor asks and you give him a brief explanation.

Going back to the available information, the team gleans all it can to formulate a plan. Afterwards, everyone moves to the common room to relax while Tony has a meal brought in.

“Loki has been watching you the entire time we’ve been in here.” Natasha murmurs to you.

“Novelty, I guess.” You shrug.

“Maybe so. Are you okay?”

“Just have a headache all of a sudden.” You say.

“Want me to get you something?”

“No, I’ll-mmph! Ow. It feels like an icepick in my head.” You say.

Natasha’s eyes widen and her head snaps up, “Loki, stop!”

You make eye contact with the god and feel another stab of pain. Realizing he is trying to get in your head, you push back at the feeling.

“What are you doing, brother?” Thor grabs his arm.

“I just wanted to see how far her capabilities went, brother. She began fighting me. Strong, this one.” Loki smirks.

“Keep your mind games to yourself, Loki!” Steve growls.

“No, it’s okay.” You say. “Try.”

“What?” Steve turns to you with a stern look.

“I want to see if he can. I can’t know how far my abilities go if I don’t push them. Most of my powers have to do with my senses. I’m just curious.” You shrug.

“Doll, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Bucky warns. “It was obviously causing you pain.”

“It’s not a big deal. Will you try again, Loki?” You ask.

“At your service, darling.” Loki grins and concentrates on you again. Your head aches almost immediately and the sharp stabbing pain returns but you fight back against it. Using the same thought process you use when warging you concentrate on Loki, pushing back against his mental invasion. The pain in your head increases the more you fight back but you aren’t willing to stop. You feel a surge from Loki and automatically push back at him with a mental force that suddenly turns your eyes green as the god’s and you realize you have entered his mind. Intense pain spikes through you bringing you to your knees as you grab the sides of your head. A scream tears from your throat before you black out.

You wake in Bucky’s arms as he takes quick strides towards the elevator.

“Bucky. I’m okay.” You say.

“You passed out. You aren’t okay.” Bucky says firmly.

“We’re just going to take you to get checked out, sweetheart.” Steve says from right beside you.

“No, I’m fine. Put me down.” You squirm in Bucky’s arms.

“Doll-” “Sweetheart-”

“Down! Now!” You all but shout. Bucky reluctantly lowers you to the floor and you stand, holding his shoulder for support. “Well, that was new.”

“What did Loki do to you?” Steve growls.

“I only did as she asked.” Loki defends himself. “She managed to fight my attempts. It was quite impressive. Not many can keep me out of their mind as she did. And then, she slipped into my mind. It probably overwhelmed her as she’s not used to such an exertion.”

“Agreed.” You say. “I’ve never been able to do that with a human before.”

“You were probably able to because I have to open my mind in order to reach out. That was admirable.” Loki says.

“Uh, thanks?” You laugh lightly.

“Did you see anything?” Loki asks with eyes narrowed.

“It was pretty jumbled.” You admit.

“That’s normal for a first timer. Come, let’s discuss our little experiment.” Loki wraps your hand around his arm and guides you away from your two supersoldiers who glare at Loki as the two of you sit on the loveseat. When dinner is ready, you sit at the table between Bucky and Steve. Loki is seated across from you with Thor next to him and the table is jovial as everyone enjoys the company and food. You notice that Loki retreats into himself during the meal. As soon as the meal is over, you approach Loki again to ask more questions about his abilities. Everyone drifts into the common room while you and Loki sit at one end of the table and talk. He has a great deal of knowledge regarding the Kree, Inhumans, and different abilities. You learn more in two hours than you had in the six months with your Inhuman team.

“Hey Doll. We’re heading to the room.” Bucky approaches to say.

“Okay, Love. I’ll be there shortly.” You smile up at him as he leans down to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

Loki watches as Bucky leaves with a smirk, “So, you and Sergeant Bar-”

“Sweetheart, you coming to bed?” Steve interrupts.

“Soon, Babe. Loki is giving me some history on the Kree.”

Steve eyes Loki for a moment before leaning down to kiss you possessively “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t.” You smile at him as he leaves. Turning back to Loki, it’s your turn to smirk, “Yes, Me and Bucky and Steve.”

“That was unexpected.” Loki raises an eyebrow.

“I imagine not much surprises you.” You laugh.

“Very little.” Loki says.

“You know, I was prepared to hate you but… you aren’t exactly what I was expecting.”

“I was under the influence of other entities during the Battle of New York. It spoke to the basest part of me. I know I’ll never fully make up for it but I’m hopeful I can do some good to set it to rights.”

“I’m sure you will. Do some good, that is. I should head to bed. Good night, Loki.”

“Good night.” Loki nods his head and joins his brother.

You were impressed with him. Truthfully, you had planned on hating him. After all, he had killed Coulson but when you had slipped into his mind you had felt his remorse. You were honest when you told him that everything was jumbled. The memories and images that came through had been but his feelings had been loud and clear. Inferiority, remorse, contrition, fear, and hope had suffused you when your minds were joined. It had softened you towards him and you hoped that he could find some corner of redemption in all of this.

When you get to the bedroom, you pause a minute to smile at Steve and Bucky cuddled up together in the bed.

“Come join us, pretty girl.” Steve beckons.

“What were you and Loki talking about that kept you so enthralled?” Bucky groused.

“Careful, Buck. You almost sound jealous.” You laugh. “We were talking about the Kree and inhumans and different abilities. I learned a good bit from him. Loki offered to bring some information and writings when he comes again.”

“He doesn’t usually talk to any of us much when he’s around.” Steve says.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Usually all we get out of him is sly remarks.” Bucky says.

“Huh. Probably a defense mechanism. He feels he has a lot to make up for and know no one really likes him.” You offer.

“How did you find that out?” Steve asks.

“When we did the Vulcan mindmeld. I could feel what he was feeling more than anything else. It told quite the story in and of itself.”

“Loki is a master manipulator.” Steve warns.

“I understand.” You reassure them. “And we leave for mission tomorrow for who knows how long. Is there anything you'd like to do before that happens?”

“Yeah.” “Definitely.” They speak at the same time.

“What would that be?” You ask.

“You.” They say in unison.

Part 11

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justlightlysedated · 6 years ago

Text

The one where everyone learns who exactly can't keep their hands to themselves, or Alex left discretion and public decency in the Middle East as well (along with his underwear and all of his belts)

.1.

Liz loves listening to Michael talk about Theoretical Chemistry and Experimental Physics because it's so fascinating and stuff that she didn't learn when she was working on her degree because technically it wasn't supposed to actually exist, but then again she now lives in a world where aliens are roaming around in disguise healing people and moving things with their minds.

The drone of his voice in the background while they work is one of her favorite things about working with Michael.

Liz looks to the clock and back to her experiment, Michael was supposed to be back from his lunch break fifteen minutes ago. Not that he was actually getting paid to be there, but they were supposed to be working on perfecting the formula for the suppressor serum today, and Liz had blocked the whole day off once Michael had confirmed that he could be there the whole day.

He'd left over an hour ago telling her that he'd bring her back something from the diner, and while Liz wasn't hungry, Michael had a very good sense of time.

She dimly hears the elevator ding open and the low clickclack of boots on the linoleum floors and smiles.

And then frowns when there is the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and then a thud and Michael making a grunting sound like he was just pushed into the wall.

Liz leaves her experiment pulling her gloves off and tossing them in the trash before peeking out through the glass window on the door.

She looks away almost as fast leaning back flat against the door as she covers her mouth with her hand so that she doesn't burst out laughing in disbelief.

She had known that Alex and Michael were making an attempt to date, since apparently they had fallen in love (and into bed) without even going on one date.

She sneaks a look back out through the window. It seems like things are going much better than they've said.

Alex has Michael trapped against one of the empty lab doors, hands on either side of his hips, his head buried in Michael's neck, most likely leaving him a hickey from the look on Michael's face, which, ew.

Liz wrinkles her nose, but watches almost mesmerized as Michael opens his eyes and glanced down at Alex and smiles, a sweet innocent smile, like he's incredibly happy, a smile that Liz has never seen on his face.

Alex moves then, pulling away from Michael's neck and then stopping when he looks at Michael.

Liz hears low whispers and then Alex is kissing Michael in a way that she's pretty sure is going to get out of hand if someone doesn't interrupt them.

It immediately gets out of hand to Liz's surprise, especially considering this is Alex.

Michael's hands fall from Alex's shoulder to the space between their bodies, and Liz sees when Michael breaks the kiss to thump his head back on the wall.

He swallows hard and says something that Liz can't hear, but Alex seems to have no trouble talking in a louder tone.

“I figured I wouldn't be needing them once I caught you.”

Michael swallows again and his eyes flicker to the door, and Liz freezes and then smiles and waves at him before turning around and grabbing a sterile pair of gloves to get back to her experiment.

Michael doesn't enter the lab for another twenty minutes. And when he does, his hair is a mess, there is pink staining the back of his neck and ears, and a giant hickey peeking from beneath his collar.

Liz opens her mouth and Michael glares.

“Unless you want me to talk about last Thursday night at the Drive In, then I suggest you rethink what you’re about to say.”

Liz feels her cheeks heat up and she just gives Michael a look before raising her eyebrow and shrugging.

“Tell me about the twenty-second compound again?”

Michael starts speaking, and Liz presses her lips together so she doesn’t comment on how hoarse his voice sounds.

.2.

Kyle had been gone for maybe five minutes, at most eight. He’d just needed a break to go use the bathroom and from the mounting tension between Alex and Guerin.

It hadn’t surprised Kyle, exactly, that once Guerin was made aware that Kyle and Alex were working together with government resources to hunt down the alien threat, he became a permanent fixture in the place as long as Alex was there.

Kyle thinks that maybe they’d gotten into a fight because Guerin kept glaring and Alex was as cool as ice pretending like Guerin wasn’t even in the room with them.

Kyle is thinking to suggest that maybe they should all just go home and tackle this in the morning, partially because he’d just finished working an eighteen hour shift when Alex had asked him if he had some time that night, but mostly because he just didn’t feel like dealing with Guerin glaring at him every time he talked to Alex and Alex talked back to him.

He opens the door that leads into the main room and stops right at the entrance, stopping the door from closing behind him.

Guerin has migrated from the chair across from Alex, to the bit of desk right in front of where Alex had been sitting. Had been because he was standing now, leaning over Guerin with both of his hands on either side of his hips on the table, trapping him there as he kisses him like Guerin is the air that he needs to breathe.

The shock of it because he was expecting them to be at each other’s throats not doing that on the table where they sometimes eat at.

Kyle clears his throat.

Alex moves his hands to slide them in Guerin’s hair and he pulls Guerin’s head back to get at his throat.

Kyle clears his throat a little bit louder.

Guerin’s hands move from where they were clenched against Alex’s back to slide into the back pockets of his jeans. The move tugs the pants even lower, which wouldn’t have worked if Alex had been wearing a belt.

Kyle clears his throat really loudly and steps forward letting the door slam behind him.

Surprisingly, Guerin is the one who pushes Alex back. Alex goes unwillingly.

Guerin just slides out from where he’s pinned to the table, and says. “Bathroom,” before walking past Kyle and out the door he had just walked through, glaring at Kyle the whole way.

Kyle wants to say something about it not being his fault that they couldn’t wait until he was gone to make up.

When he turns back, Alex is leaning against the table in the same spot he had Guerin pinned to and raises an eyebrow when Kyle gives him a look.

“I thought you guys were fighting,” Kyle states as he walks towards Alex.

Alex who was watching the door Guerin had just walked through like he could force Guerin to come back to the room with just his thoughts, shrugs. “We were.”

Kyle leans on the table next to Alex and Alex turns to look at him.

“Do you-?”

“Why don’t you just go home,” Alex suggests in a tone that’s anything but suggestive. “I’ll finish cleaning up here. Guerin’ll give me a ride home.”

Kyle snorts, “Yeah, I bet.”

Alex huffs out a laugh, and Kyle smiles. “You know you could've told me that you needed to work things out with your boyfriend and I would’ve made myself scarce.”

Alex shrugs. “We barely hangout.”

Kyle rolls his eyes. “This isn’t hanging out. This is work. My second job that I didn’t apply for that pays me in nothing but pain and misery. Next time we’re getting a beer, and Guerin can come too.”

Alex gives him a smile. “I’d like that.”

There is a loud clicking sound and then the door that leads inside of the bunker after you climbed down the stairs opens up without anyone touching the big red button that unlocks it.

Alex is grinning but biting down on his lip so that it doesn’t show.

Kyle gives him a look.

“I’m thinking I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Kyle says and pats Alex on the shoulder on his way out.

He turns as the doors are closing to see Alex walking to the other side of the room.

He barely makes out Guerin as he enters the room again.

“I thought he’d nev-” he starts speaking and then Alex is pushing him into the door and shutting him up with his mouth.

Kyle just shakes his head as the door closes on them and heads out of the bunker to his car.

.3.

After Michael checks his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes, Isobel snaps.

“I’m sorry,” she says a little peeved. “Am I boring you that much?”

Michael gives her a smirk, “Dreadfully.”

Isobel gives him a look.

Michael shrugs, “Alex is late.”

Isobel rolls her eyes.

Ever since Alex and Michael had solved their problems, they’ve been attached at the hip (or the lips) and it was getting annoying.

Isobel isn’t used to sharing Michael’s attention with anybody. She’s the same with Max, but the Liz Thing had been happening since high school and Isobel had sort of come to terms with it.

But Michael was different. Michael didn’t do relationships. Michael didn’t give anyone attention unless it was for one night, and even then it was just for a couple of hours and if Isobel really needed him he would drop everything to be at her side.

Unlike Alex, who seemed to be the exception to every single rule that Michael had about humans.

Michael gives her a fond smile and taps her almost empty glass with his.

“Want a refill?” he asks.

They both turn to look at the crowd at the hotel bar across the room, and the servers weaving through the crowd in the middle of the room.

“I'll go to the kitchens,” Michael states when they turn to look at each other.

“Good idea,” Isobel says and hands him her glass. “Just don't take any of the golden bottles. Those are for the Big Toast.”

Michael salutes her mockingly tapping his glass on his head, and then turns and makes his way to the kitchens.

Isobel looks out at the crowd and at her tasteful decorations that are holding up nicely. She glances at her phone when it vibrates in her hand letting her know that in thirty minutes it'll be time for dinner to be served.

She gets distracted by Mrs. Lane, one of Noah's clients who came to congratulate her and to gossip about something that Isobel really has no interest in learning.

But she's polite and gracious and notices around the fourth time that Mrs. Lane clears her throat that Michael isn't back.

Her phone vibrates in her hand. Fifteen minutes to dinner.

“If you'll excuse me,” she says and Mrs. Lane finally stops talking to smile at her. “I have to go make sure dinner is ready.”

She makes her getaway as smooth and not hurried as she can and walks into the kitchen searching immediately for Michael.

She finds him, rolls her eyes to the ceiling asking a god that she doesn't believe in for patience, and then snaps.

“Michael!”

Michael immediately pulls away from Alex, but Alex slides his mouth down Michael's throat.

“Um, Alex,” he gasps and reaches up to grip Alex's hair, but he doesn't seem to be trying to pull him away. “Isobel is-” he continues breathlessly.

Isobel gags loudly, but not loud enough to cover up Michael's moan.

Isobel is going to have nightmares about that for weeks.

Alex finally disengages his mouth from Michael and drags his fingers through Michael's hair. “Who cares?”

And then he's kissing Michael again.

“Is he drunk?” Isobel asks stepping further into the room when she spots the refilled glasses on the table.

Michael's only response is to moan.

Isobel rolls her eyes so hard that they almost fall out of her head.

She walks forward and grabs both glasses in her hands.

She takes Michael's drink and waits exactly five more seconds for them to stop, before she raises her hand and spills the drink over their heads.

She smiles winningly when they turn to her, Michael with a dazed happy look in his eyes, Alex glaring.

“Dinner will be served in less than fifteen, get yourselves cleaned up.”

And then she steps in close looking at Alex straight in the eyes, “And if you're late, I swear I'll castrate you with a hot iron.”

Alex gives her a look that says, he would love to see her try.

Michael just promises that they'll be there.

Isobel leaves the room and turns once to see them with their foreheads pressed together, and Isobel almost drops her glass in shock.

She's never seen Michael look so, so peaceful before.

They're almost twenty minutes late, but Isobel doesn't say anything.

Alex can make Michael late to all of her events if he wants, as long as he keeps making Michael looking like he's finally found the home he was searching for.

.4.

Max was almost done with his paperwork for the day when Alex walks into the building with a purpose.

He spots Max almost immediately and makes a beeline for him.

“Where is he?” He asks and gives Max a look when Max opens his mouth to lie immediately.

He sighs and puts his pen down.

“He's in the cage, but the Sheriff wants him to stay the whole night, for a misdemeanor.”

Alex scoffs, “I'm not here to break him out.”

And then he's stalking to the door.

Max hears Michael immediately start making excuses when Alex walks into the room, but he doesn't hear much as the door closes behind Alex.

Max picks up his pen shaking his head with a smile.

Unlike Isobel, who thinks that Alex is a corrupting influence, Max thinks that Alex is good for Michael.

He's become less intense, less lonesome, less sad now that Alex is finally back in his life the way that he wants.

Max finishes his paperwork and his phone chirps with a message.

He looks at the notification and smiles when he sees that its from Maria.

Ever since she had caught him having coffee by himself at the diner, and “moping like a thirteen year old who had gotten stood up by her crush” while he waited for Liz to get home, she started sending him messages at odd times when she knows he's not with Liz to make him smile.

It works well for both of them. Max enjoys talking to Maria, and she's Liz's best friend so he's always happy to get to know her better.

He's reading through her rant about bachelorette parties and how she's never letting Isobel convince her to use her bar for an event again, when he hears the muffled shouting.

He grimaces, but really, Michael had been doing so well with not getting arrested. He wonders what happened that made him get drunk and key someone's car.

“Oh,” Alex says loudly. “So now it's my fault!?”

“That is not what I said!” Michael yells back.

He hears the sound of the cell door being forced open and sighs. Michael always breaks the internal mechanism when he's not careful.

They go back to muffled shouting that Max can't make out.

Max waits and when there aren't any concerning noises, he goes back to Maria's message.

He's pressing send on his reply when there is a loud crash and a pained grunting sound that sounds like Michael.

Max gets up then concerned because Alex isn't really a violent person, but Michael can bring out the worst in anyone.

He opens the door to peek inside to make sure they're okay, and then slams it shut.

They are definitely more than okay.

“Why is everyone always cockblocking us?” Alex asks in a deadly serious tone.

Max huffs out a laugh.

“Maybe because you can't ever keep it in your pa-” Michael cuts himself off moaning.

Max grimaces and knocks loudly on the door.

“Excuse me,” Alex says, but it's obvious from his tone that he's not talking to Max. “But who here isn't wearing any pants?”

“Yeah well,” Michael pants. “You're not wearing any underwear-”

“Okay,” Max says cutting Michael off before he scars him even more. He opens the door and looks pointedly at the empty cell Michael is supposed to be in. “I'll tell the Sheriff I let you go because there was a family emergency, but please don't have sex on top of the desk.”

“Okay,” Michael says in a strained voice. “We'll behave.”

“This time,” Alex mutters under his breath and Michael's breath hitches, and Max shuts his eyes and hopes that that doesn't mean what he thinks it means.

There is the sound of clothes rustling, but Max waits until he hears Michael's belt being buckled to turn to them.

They're both in identical positions leaning against the desk. But while Alex is looking at him like he's daring Max to say something while simultaneously letting him know that he knows secrets about Max that he'd prefer his brother to never find out with his eyebrows, Michael is leaning against Alex, his head on Alex's shoulder, eyes half closed.

The last time Max remembers seeing Michael this content was-

Well, Max can't remember ever seeing Michael this content.

He just inclines his head at Alex. “You're free to go.”

Alex smiles back at him and coaxes Michael out of the door.

Max watches as Alex helps Michael into the passenger seat of the truck, and he feels fondness and happiness swelling in his chest when Alex leans in close and presses their foreheads together before closing the door and getting into the driver's seat.

Max turns back to his desk, smiling.

.5.

Jenna was tired. She'd been working nonstop for three days and all she wanted was three shots of tequila, at least one orgasm and then to sleep for the next thirty-six hours.

It was the fact that her head was already at home all snug in her bed that made her slow to realize that the truck she was parked behind was idling.

The light turned yellow and then red and Jenna huffed out an annoyed breath.

The light turns green and Jenna gets even more annoyed when the truck doesn't move.

She squints at the truck and recognizes it as Michael's, and then squints at the back window and she can see Michael’s head right by the driver’s seat.

His head is dropped back on the headrest, and Jenna debates to get out of the car and make sure that he was okay, and not asleep or worse.

But then she sees his arm move from where it was resting along the back of the seat and drops it down to his lap.

So, not dead.

And then his head moves from one side to the other, and Jenna can just make out his voice through the glass and the background noise the engine is making mixing with the radio that she has on low.

So, not asleep.

She’s about to lean on her horn as the light turns green again when another head pops up from around the vicinity of Michael’s lap, and Jenna is startled into laughter when she recognizes the sharp line of Alex’s jaw.

Michael slides one hand up Alex’s neck, and Alex lunges at him.

Jenna hears a muffled thump and the sound of the engine revving when the car is in park.

Jenna thinks about giving them a ticket for being parked at the traffic light and for public indecency, but then she thinks about the paperwork she’ll have to fill out, especially given the fact that Alex is a veteran.

She rolls her eyes when she notices that Alex is straddling Michael’s lap and just puts her car in reverse.

She makes sure there is no one behind her and then moves back a few feet, before putting the car into drive and getting into the next lane pulling up right next to them.

They don’t notice her of course, too busy lost in each other.

It makes Jenna feel a tiny spark of envy given the fact that they’re going to make each other come and she’s only got her vibrator at home to deal with the situation.

Which is why she leans on her horn then.

Alex jumps in Michael’s lap, and Michael groans head dropping back.

Alex looks to her with a dazed look in his eyes and then he gives her a smile and waves before he’s turning back to Michael and leaning down to place a kiss on his neck.

Michael’s eyes are half lidded when he looks at her, and he smirks.

Jenna thinks again, maybe the paperwork wouldn’t be so bad if she could wipe that look off Michael’s face.

The decision is made for her when the light turns green and she can see another car driving from the opposite direction.

She rolls her eyes and drives away.

.6.

Noah watches Isobel as she walks across the room from where she’d been leaning against the wall talking to Maria to where Liz and Max are sitting down talking quietly while sharing a glass of wine.

Family dinners were always an event at the Evans-Brackens’, especially when Michael actually came to them. Now they were a party.

Isobel only hosted the dinner twice a month now, and each time Noah feels like they’re celebrating something huge.

Watching as Isobel settles herself between Liz and Max and how they welcome her into their bubble easily makes him feel like they should be celebrating.

He watches as Maria drags Kyle to the center of the living room as Jenna does something to the radio to make it actually play music and not just static.

His smile widens as Liz drags Isobel to the middle of the room when Max refuses to go.

His brow furrows when he does a sweep of the room and comes up short one person.

Michael hadn’t shown up with Alex, and Alex had spent the whole night in a mood that he only seemed to break out of when Maria sat down beside him and wrapped an arm around him speaking quietly in his ear.

Noah doesn’t know much about Alex, or about Michael and Alex’s relationship, but he does know a bit about Michael.

And he knows that Michael adores Alex, and would rather die than hurt him.

He shifts a little and looks back to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room.

He watches as his laughing wife coaxes her reluctant brother to dance, and decides to find Alex.

Maybe he can coax him out to the dance floor as well.

He smiles to himself as he turns and heads into the kitchen.

He stops short right at the entrance and stares.

Michael had apparently gotten there sometime during the last time he saw Alex and now. Which was like fifteen minutes ago.

He was leaning back against the kitchen counter, his hands planted on his sides, bracing himself as he leans his head back as Alex kisses down his neck and towards his chest.

Michael wasn’t wearing a shirt.

Noah doesn’t consider himself to be a prude, not with what he and his wife get up to, and he’s all for sexual liberation as long as everything is consensual.

That being said.

There are certain things that he doesn’t need to know about Michael, and that face he’s making as Alex moves lower is one of them.

Noah knocks on the open entrance that leads into the kitchen, because there is no door.

Michael’s eyes snap open, and his eyes find Noah’s.

Noah gives him a look.

Michael actually looks relieved that it’s him and not his sister, which to be fair is actually a relief given the fact that Isobel has taken to carrying around a spray bottle that she uses to spray Alex (usually) and Michael when they do things like make out in the middle of dinner.

Michael starts pushing Alex back a little.

He doesn’t see what Alex does, but it makes Michael hiss in pain before he’s pushing Alex away harder.

Noah hears Alex sigh in annoyance as he lets Michael go and he turns to face him without an ounce of shame on his face.

Noah barely recalls any of the nights when Liz and Alex kidnap him with the excuse that they're human bonding as humans in relationships with aliens.

But one of the things they talk about is sex, which is odd. But telling someone your sex secrets creates a bond that apparently makes you lose your sense of shame and decorum.

Michael who had to crawl back out through the window he had apparently crawled through to find his shirt, slides up behind Alex and tucks his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, tugging him backwards.

Alex smiles like he's won the lottery and tilts his head back to rest on Michael's shoulder.

Noah watches as Michael whispers something that makes Alex's smile widen and then Michael is moving, heading out of the kitchen and tugging Alex behind him, a soft smile on his face that makes Noah feel warm inside

And maybe he does know more about Alex than he thought, he thinks as he follows them out to the living room.

.7.

Isobel stops in front of Maria and smiles.

“No,” Maria says immediately turning to get the bottle of whiskey that belongs exclusively to Michael, Max and Isobel doctored to actually affect them like alcohol does to humans.

“Come on, we had fun last time didn't we?” Isobel cajoles, leaning her elbows on the bar and propping her chin on her hands and blinking her big eyes at Maria like all it takes to get Maria to do what she wants is a little bit of flirting.

“You had fun. I was stuck behind the bar making complicated cocktails at your behest.”

Isobel pouts.

“It's true,” Max says leaning on the bar next to his sister. “She told me all about it.”

Isobel glares at him and they have a silent conversation involving their eyebrows while Maria serves their drinks.

“Okay, fine,” Isobel says rolling her eyes and smiling at Maria when she gives her her drink.

Then she gets this look on her face and turns to Max who immediately goes on the defensive.

“I'll throw it in your backyard then, the space is definitely big enough and Maisy is really into the whole rustic look. It could wo-”

“No,” Max says. “Absolutely not.”

Isobel gets this determined glint in her eyes and so does Max.

“Hey, Babeluca!” Liz's voice catches her attention and Maria leaves the silently arguing twins and heads to the other end of the bar where Liz is leaning against the bar smiling widely as Maria gets closer.

“You rang?” She says stopping in front of her.

Liz grins and makes grabby hands until Maria gives her her hands.

“You are the love of my life,” she says seriously. “And I would do anything for you.”

Maria smiles at her and squeezes their hands together. “Me too.”

Liz's smile widens and she looks like that's exactly the answer she was looking for.

She leans in a little bit and says, “Will you please come with me to the bathroom? Jenna is in competition with Kyle at the pool table. And Isobel always tries to give me the shovel talk whenever we're alone.”

Maria nods her head. “Let's go.”

Liz smiles and takes one of Maria's hands when she ducks out from behind the bar and drags her to the bathroom.

Maria leans against the door while Liz does her business and she smiles fondly at her when she dancewalks out of the stall to the sink to wash her hands.

It's quiet enough back there that when they walk past the men's she hears a faint thud.

Maria purses her mouth. She doesn't remember noticing that anyone was about to get out of hand.

Liz skips ahead straight into Max who wraps her in his arms and Liz smiles happily at him.

Maria feels the smile stretching her lips, and glances at Isobel who also looks fond, but exasperated.

She starts to turn and then she hears a groan.

She makes a face and really hopes that she's not going to have to toss someone out for jerking off in the bathroom.

She opens the door without further ado and her mouth drops open.

Definitely not jerking off.

Maria had expected to one day walk in on something like this, and walking in on Guerin without a shirt on isn't exactly a new thing. But walking in on Alex very thoroughly giving it to Guerin, well Maria would've never thought Alex of all people would be into public sex, or semi public.

Alex has Michael bent over the sink with his hands braced on the mirror, and when he takes one hand off to cover his mouth so he doesn't get too loud, one of Alex's hands moves to his wrist.

“What did I say?” Alex says in an unrecognizable voice.

And it knocks Maria out of the shock of finding them like this.

She makes to leave and accidentally catches Michael's eyes in the mirror.

“Al-” he starts and then gets cut off by a moan that Maria sort of recognizes and, gross.

She leaves the bathroom and flips the sign in the front so that it says, Out of Order.

She stalks to the bar and ignores everyone who calls her name to grab the most expensive bottle of tequila that she has.

She needs to suppress any and all memories involving Guerin and sex.

“I know that face,” Jenna says from across from her.

“Michael and Alex?” Max asks as he leans next to Jenna.

Maria makes a face and takes three shots one after the other.

She sees Isobel pushing off the bar and heading in the direction of the bathroom, but Maria catches her arm before she can make it too far.

“I wouldn't go in there if I were you.”

Isobel makes a face and taps one of the shot glasses with her finger.

“We're gonna need more of this to erase that image from my brain.”

Maria readily agrees and pours shots for everyone.

By the time Alex and Michael make it back out, Maria has left one of the newbies in charge of the taps and is sitting on one of the stools with a beer in hand, watching Liz and Max slow dance to a fast country song while Jenna thoroughly kicks Kyle's ass at darts and Noah and Isobel cuddle on one of the booths her legs thrown over his lap.

She feels someone sitting down next to her, and catches Alex taking one of Kyle's darts and throwing it.

She looks to see Michael smiling sheepishly at her, and hears Jenna saying, “See? You just suck!”

Kyle sputters loudly while Alex laughs.

Maria sees Michael's eyes flicker over to where Alex is, and the way his face changes makes her heart catch in her chest.

“You really love him, don't you?”

Michael turns back to her and his smile goes soft and fond. “He's the best thing that's ever happened to me on this planet.”

Maria thinks that's sweet but she rolls her eyes and pushes him a little.

She looks back to Alex to see that he's watching them with a smile that matches the one on Michael's face.

It's so sappy that Maria isn't going to make their lives miserable for fucking in the bathroom of her bar.

“You're sickening,” she says turning to Michael who is predictably staring at Alex.

He turns to her and raises an eyebrow.

“So I'm going to let you off with a warning,” she smiles before leaning in close. “But if you fuck in my bar ever again I will make good on my promise in Texas.”

Michael smirks, “Technically, we didn't fuck in the b-”

“I mean it Guerin!”

Michael raises his hands in the air. “Why are you acting like this is all my fault? Alex was the one who-”

Maria cuts him off with a look.

“Why am I always being blamed for stuff I didn't do?” He says looking over Maria's shoulder.

“Because I'm an angel,” Alex says as he wraps his arms around Maria.

Maria elbows him, “Angel my ass, we are going to have words. But I need to be high for that conversation so it has to wait.”

She looks at Alex and Alex raises an eyebrow in question.

Maria smiles and rolls her eyes.

“Come on,” she tells them both as she moves from her seat to slide back behind the bar.

“Let's get really drunk and pretend nothing happened.”

Maria can practically feel Michael opening his mouth.

And then he just makes a muffled sound.

When she turns to look at them it's to see that Alex had shut Michael up with his mouth.

Well then, maybe this whole, Alex can't keep his hands off Michael thing has its perks.

#malex #malex fic #hey y'all i planned this fic last night while i was r e a l l y high and well i hope y'all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it #rnm #malexnotitle

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heyfromhell · 5 years ago

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Usually when I’m driving i listen to music. Its purpose used to be to keep me calm while I was behind the wheel, but since my driving anxiety has subsided, now it’s purely for enjoyment. I’ll put my music on shuffle and let whatever songs that want to roll through the speakers play their notes, or I’ll put on a podcast if I want to focus more specifically on something.

Sometimes though, I drive in silence. Usually early in the morning or after a stressful day. It is a form of self care for me to sit in silence; it helps me let the accumulation of the day’s buzzing that has gathered inside of me to settle down and evaporate. Sometimes when I’m in the silence, I don’t think about anything. But other times, I think back to things that surface from some unprovoked fold of my brain. Today was one of those days. For whatever reason, I started thinking about my ex boyfriend; my first love.

I was younger when we were together, and though our relationship wasn’t perfect, I thought it was a healthy situation with a few flaws here and there. Now that I’m several years older and that relationship is in my past, I am so so so grateful that it was something that ended when it did. Up until about a year ago, I couldn’t speak his name. If I heard someone else say it, my stomach dropped. For a full three years after our breakup, I was heartbroken and devastated every single day, and I never believed that those feelings would leave me. I thought I would always be wounded in that way, and that that was just my card dealt to me; I was going to be heartbroken forever.

While it sounds dramatic now, I really did believe that. What’s even more unfortunate about how deep my love for him went was that our relationship was not a healthy one, but actually verged on the border of abusive. When we broke up, I was free to do everything I couldn’t do while I was with him. I tried to rekindle and repair old relationships I had abandoned unwillingly, and for those I couldn’t patch, I apologized.

I just feel so grateful to be where I am today. My life is nowhere near perfect, and I have so many places I want to go to and dreams that I want to turn into my reality. But for where I’m at, I’m so grateful. The people in my life are nurturing and kind, and I have a family that loves me as much as I love them. When I lie in bed at night, I am overcome with the knowledge that I am very, very lucky.

I don’t know why I’m writing this post, to be honest, but I felt that I needed to. Flashing back to a teenage girl cutting herself, hiding her face, and thinking she wouldn’t make it past 18 (20 if I got lucky), I’m just so grateful I stuck around. The pain I’ve experienced has molded me to be the way that I am, as cheesy as that probably is. Of course I wish I could have been mentally stable and healthy throughout my teenage years, and that I could have escaped from the relationship that broke me down (I am still healing, all these years later; I still haven’t learned how to stop apologizing for the things that don’t require it), but that wasn’t the case, and I’m not angry about that anymore. Today, I feel like a survivor.

#writing

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yashalex · 5 years ago

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crash and burn, baby. crash and burn [Chapter 10] Previous chapter is here It’s not a problem when your best mate finds a new crush and forgets about you. It’s the problem when his crush takes an interest in you and you don’t really mind. Or: Lucas Lallemant, a new guy in the school, attracts Eliott’s best mate attention… and not just his.

Chapter 9 Eliott and Lucas finally have a lot of time to spend together.

“So… parallel universes. What do you think?”

Lucas and Eliott were lying on the bed in Lucas’s room with only boxers and t-shirts on. They came here hours ago, being absolutely soppy, their teeth were chattering with cold. Still, they both couldn’t stop smiling. Lucas’ father was off on a business trip again, so his house was the obvious place for them to go. And all this time they were doing nothing but kissing, hugging, touching and exploring each other’s body as if they were the most precious things in the world. And Eliott started to think that it was exactly what Lucas was. Too precious. So when the boy asked him his question, Eliott didn't manage to catch it straight away.

“What?” He murmured, burying his head in the boy's neck. Absorbing his scent. If only he could lock it up in the bottle and take it to his flat just for his room to smell like that. Life would have been so much more pleasant then.

“Parallel universes. Do you believe in them?” Lucas clarified his question, and Eliott couldn’t but notice that he chose a weird thing for discussion. But he didn’t mind.

“I’m not sure,” he said, not moving from his spot. He could feel a shiver, running down the boy’s neck which was caused by his voice. It made him smile, and he continued. “For me, there’s only one universe and there is a real tragedy in that. Sometimes when I have to make a choice I always think that there are two paths to take. And when I choose one path, because I need to make this choice, I always think about the second one and about all the missed opportunities I left with it. That drives me crazy.”

“But what if there is another Eliott in the parallel universe, who’s chosen another path? Then it’d mean that you’ve tried all the options,” Lucas suggested. The way he seemed sincerely interested in this theme was fascinating. The boy clearly was a dreamer.

“Then I don’t envy him,” Eliott answered, and there was no need to look at Lucas to feel his confusion. “If I’d chosen another path in the past, I could never meet you.” He lifted his head to look at the boy, who was now smiling at him fondly. Lucas leaned over to leave a kiss oh his lips. But Eliott didn’t let him go easily, having beaten his lower lip and deepened the kiss. When their tongues touched Lucas groaned and Eliott grinned satisfied. “Can you imagine Eliott and Lucas who doesn’t have this moment right now?” He whispered in his mouth and Lucas shook his head slightly. Yeah, Eliott thought the same.

He grabbed Lucas’ back of the head and pulled him as close to himself as it was only possible. One Lucas’ hand was rushing through Eliott’s hair while another one found its way underneath Eliott’s t-shirt. As soon as his fingers touched Eliott’s bared skin an electric shock ran through his body, which was completely under Lucas control now. And there was no desire in them to talk anymore, they had some other things to do.

“I still think that parallel universes can exist”.

When Lucas brought up the theme, which they successfully dropped nearly an hour ago, Eliott couldn’t hold his laugh. They were still lying on the bed but there were no t-shirts on them anymore. They were just an obstacle in their way of knowing each other better, and they had no other choice but to get rid of them. Lucas was lying on his stomach and Eliott used the boy’s back as a pillow for himself. He was running his fingers along Lucas’ soft skin, trying to memorize every line of his body and every mole that he had. He wished he had a pencil and paper to capture this moment, but he wasn’t ready to remove himself from the boy. Not yet.

“Ok. Share your thoughts.” Eliott put his chin on Lucas’ scapula, ready to hear everything that he wanted to say so much. And if that was important to Lucas, then it was important to Eliott too.

“When I have a choice to make I love thinking that there’re other Lucases in other parallel universes who took all the paths I couldn’t take. And when I have bad days, doubts or regrets I always remind myself that somewhere there’s another Lucas who’s happy and who’s living his best life at the moment. Sometimes it helps me to move forward and make other hard decisions which I need to make.”

“And did other Lucases meet me?” Eliott asked, enchanted by the dreamy Lucas’ face.

“Yeah. Some of them definitely did.” Lucas smiled, turning his head to look at Eliott. “Maybe, in another universe, you’re not a painter but musician.”

“I can hardly see that happening,” Eliott laughed. He was one hundred percent a tone-deaf person.

“Well, it’s another universe. Everything’s possible there,” Lucas was saying that as though he really believed in that theory. And Eliott wanted to hear more of that.

“And what else? Who else could we be?” He asked, and Lucas turned around carefully just for Eliott to lie on his chest. Lucas reached Eliott’s hair with his hand and began to play with them with his fingers.

“Well, we could be girls. Can you imagine that?” Lucas supposed and Eliott let out a laugh.

“That would be so cool, right?” He asked and Lucas nodded his head in agreement.

“You can be bald. Can you imagine yourself without your beautiful hair?” Eliott shook his head on it as the thought seemed too ridiculous for him. He would never get rid of his hair. “We also could live in every country. Norway, USA, Italy, Germany, Netherlands, Belgium, England, China, Brasilia…”

“Even in Russia?” Eliott’s interrupted Lucas and the boy shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah. Why not?”

“О да!” Eliott exclaimed, and Lucas has been clearly taken aback by his response. “Last summer I met a group of Russian tourists and when I heard them I decided that I want to know their language. So I learned a couple of phrases.” Of course, it wasn’t the whole story. Eliott’s been living through one of his episodes back then, and he couldn’t rest until he learned at least something. That was one of his stupid obsessions, which didn’t bring him anything useful at the end. As always.

“Then tell me something!” Lucas asked, looking at him with his big angelic blue eyes. If only Eliott could say «no» to them.

«Ты самое лучшее, что когда-либо случалось в моей жизни.” He whispered, taking a lock of Lucas’ hair off his face.

“And what does it mean?” Eliott expected to hear this question.

“I won’t tell.” He smiled playfully being perfectly aware of the reaction he would get.

“Oh, you can’t do that!” Lucas exclaimed indignantly.

“Oh, yeah, I can!” Eliott teased and before Lucas said anything, he pulled himself over and kissed him gently. And there was no resistance from Lucas’ side at all, as he answered the kiss straight away. A couple of seconds later they were lost to this world again.

They were half-sitting, half-lying on the floor, leaning on the bed and sharing one joint. The room was filled with smoke and there was only their breathing which was heard in it. Lucas' head was lying on Eliott’s shoulder and Eliott buried himself in his soft hair. That was the most comfortable place in the whole world.

“Have you ever been in a serious relationship?” Lucas asked, having let out the smoke.

“Kind of, yeah,” Eliott answered, unwillingly pulling away from his hair and taking a joint in his hand. “But that was for my mother’s pleasure rather than mine. She was a very good friend of mine and it was convenient being with her, but with time I understood that wasn’t what I wanted at all.” He took a drag, having realized how much he missed that feeling.

“And what did you want?” Lucas asked and Eliott wanted to laugh because was it so necessary to answer it now? That was obvious.

“I didn’t know myself until the recent days,” he said and smiled. Lucas was smiling too now. That was the view he was ready to look at forever. “And what about you? Will I have to deal with some jealous exes in the future?” Eliott was sure that such beautiful boy as Lucas surely would have dozens of admirers.

“Well, I came out only a year ago, so I didn’t have a lot of time. I kind of had a crush on Yann for a while but that was before I understood what was going on here,” Lucas pointed to his head. “And then nobody really caught my eye before I came to a new school and saw you,” Lucas admitted.

“Was it hard for you to come out?” Eliott asked him, trying not to think too about much how flattered him Lucas’ words and how elated he was by them.

“I think it was harder to come to the moment of coming out rather than the process itself,” Lucas was talking, thinking about his every word. “Stupidly I made myself believe that me being gay was the end of the world and that it would change everything. I was scared that my family and my friends would turn their backs on me and that I would be left alone. Now I realize how dumb that was but I can't change anything, can I?”

“So everyone accepted you?” Eliott knew that he was ready to fight everybody who’d at least thought about hurting Lucas in that way.

“Yeah, it turned out that I was a lucky guy and that I have people who love me the way I am. Well… my father needed some time to process it but he’s gotten there at the end. My mother even told me that she always knew and that she was proud that I was finally ready to accept myself.” Lucas’ face shining with the smile, but still, there was something unmissable sad in his tone. Talks about mother clearly hurt him but that wasn’t only it. There was something else, Eliott could feel it but he had no courage to ask.

“And my parents were in shock when a five-year-old me said that I’d marry our seven-year-old neighbor one day. Leon was his name if I’m not mistaken. And in a month I was in love with Marlyn, and there were Claudia and George…”

“Oh, and here I thought I was special!” Lucas exclaimed in a jokey way. Eliott cracked up laughing.

“Yeah, I was a real heart-breaker back then.” He put his hand through Lucas’ hair, but still, he felt an urge to explain it. “I’ve already said that I always had troubles with feeling my parents’ love so I guess I was just trying to find it somewhere else. I was just a child who didn’t know what love was, so I came to the conclusion that I was falling in love every time somebody lied an eye on me. Is it pathetic?” It was important for him to know Lucas’ opinion.

“No, that’s sad for sure, but that’s not pathetic. But you still had some kind of love, didn’t you?” Lucas straightened up and looked at Eliott who didn’t really get what the boy meant. “I know that you are friends with Emile, Sofiane and Idriss since the early days. Emile told me that. And it looks like you’re all really close.”

“Yeah, we are…” Eliott whispered as the guilt began taking over him. Emile was the topic they managed successfully avoid till this moment and Lucas was clearly acting without any intentions to make Eliott feel bad because of that but that happened anyway. And Lucas felt it straight away.

“Fuck! I’ve ruined everything, right?” He asked guilty and Eliott smiled at him gently and shook his head.

“That’s alright. You didn't mean to. And we can’t run from this theme forever,” Eliott answered wishing to erase Lucas’ feeling of guilt. That wasn’t his fault that Eliott turned out to be a pretty shit friend at the end. There was nothing he could do to change that.

“But we still can try to do it for tonight,” Lucas grabbed Eliott’s face and kissed him gently. “Agreed?” He asked, leaning his forehead to Eliott’s.

“Agreed,” Eliott gave his answer and in a minute his lips were on Lucas’ once again.

«Why are you not sleeping?»

They were on the bed again, facing each other, sharing one air. Eliott’s lost count of time a long time ago, but when Lucas began dozing off from time to time he knew that it was already pretty late. And he loved just lying next to him, watching at the peaceful angel which life was so generous to give him. Just being near him was enough for Eliott to know that his heart has been stolen from him forever now and he would have done nothing to return it.

“You’re very beautiful when you sleep,” Eliott whispered, stroking him on the cheek lightly.

“You’re really that kind of guy, yeah? Romance and all that stuff,” Lucas murmured with a tiny dreamy smile on his face. Eliott couldn’t resist but touched the boy’s lips. He wanted to kiss him once again despite the fact that it was the only thing they were doing for the past couple of hours, but he decided against it eventually. The boy was tired.

“Only with you, I promise,” Eliott said and he meant that. There had been no one in his life who’s ever made him care so much. But with Lucas he wanted to be every second, support him, help him, be happy with him, and be sad with him. And to love him.

“Thank you,” Lucas suddenly pronounced and finally opened his sleepy eyes.

“For what?” Eliott could think of thousands of the reasons why he should have been thanking the boy and not the other way around.

“For choosing me,” he answered and Eliott was sure that he saw tears in his eyes.

“I guess I never had a choice.” That was the truth. All his denying was a simple waste of time. “The minute I saw you I knew that I’m in deep troubles.”

“When I saw Emile’s face that morning and when it got to me what was happening I thought that I had no chance anymore,” Lucas said despite their promise not to bring up this topic that night. And for some reason, Elliott decided not to stop him. The tone of his voice hinted that it needed to be said. “First time in my life I felt a real attraction to someone and in a few days I thought that it was over before it even started just because someone felt something for me that I couldn’t control. That wasn’t fair. I felt like another good thing has been taken away from me and I couldn’t do anything to change it.”

“Like happened with your mother?” Eliott asked softly, Lucas nodded his head.

“I miss her,” he whispered, and Eliott could see a single tear running down his cheek. “After she was taken away I felt so lonely, there was a hole inside of my chest nothing could fill. No father, no friends. We had this special bond with her, she knew me like nobody in this world, and she understood, supported and accepted me. And suddenly that’s all gone. And then I meet this gorgeous guy, and I feel the connection once again, not the one I had with my mother, another one, but it wasn’t less important. And I’ve nearly lost it too…”

“But you haven’t! I’m here, aren’t I?” Eliott tried to cheer up the boy because his tears were tearing his heart apart.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” Lucas was looking straight at his eyes. “You can have troubles with your best friend.”

“Yesterday you gave me the advice to think about me and not him, didn’t you? ” Eliott noted carefully. Lucas’s mood obviously changed once again.

“Yeah, because I was selfish and I wanted you. But now I have you here, lying next to me and…”

“Are you trying to say that you’ve realized that you’re not interested anymore?” Eliott joked.

“Of course not!” Lucas was offended by the fact. “But I don’t want to be a trouble. I mean I maybe was a little bit pushy but I don’t’ want you to risk anything for me. I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize what a big mistake it was and that it was all my fault….”

“Stop! Stop it now!” Eliott pressed his finger to Lucas’s lips. He couldn’t listen to this anymore. “Tell me what’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like that? Why are you saying such things?”

“It’s just… my mother has already realized that I wasn’t worth it. She doesn’t want to see me anymore,” Lucas breathed out and the tears run down his face.

“What?” Eliott was sure that he’s heard something wrong because the boy couldn’t have said that.

“When I came back for my things yesterday morning, my father was still at home and he was speaking with someone on the phone,” he was breathing heavily trying held his tears, which were uncontrollably streaming down his face anyway. “And I’ve heard… I’ve heard…” Lucas began to choke in his tears and Eliott felt the panic rushing through him, he didn’ know how to help. He didn’t know what to do. “That it was her decision not to see me. Not my father’s. She doesn’t want to see me anymore!” Lucas fixed his gaze on Eliott and a shiver run down his spine. “I don’t wanna be alone,” Lucas said quietly and that broke Eliott. He pulled him in his embrace and took him as strong as he could. Lucas didn’t hold up any more, he burst out crying and that was one the most heartbreaking things which Eliott ever lived through. He never felt so powerless.

“You have me,” he whispered him into his hair. “And I’m not going anywhere,” Eliott promised. And that was the only thing he could do. He just wished it would be enough.

#skam france #my fics #crush and burn #elu fic

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misshaaag · 5 years ago

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Sweet Home Heroin

Yesterday marked the day I moved from Wisconsin to Colorado. 3 years I've been in this new place in which I thought only good could come from. That I'd be happier, successful. It didn't quite go as I hoped or planned. The worst years of my life happened here: getting hooked on heroin and cocaine, finding out I have borderline personality disorder and acute bipolar, hindering all of my important relationships and friendships due to the prior two listed. The best years of my life also happened here: Getting a job and becoming a manager of my own restaurant, traveling more than I ever have, getting hooked on heroin.

I say that because if it wasn't for the boy who got me on the tar, I would be further down the rabbit hole and unknowingly and unwillingly wanting to get out. I was always into doing drugs and I got on the coke train pretty quick without anyone's help. Cocaine made me feel alive, and manic, and excited. All feelings euphoric. It helped me get shit done fast at work and let me live on as little sleep as possible so I would never miss out on an adventure. It made me skinny. I loved how coke made me feel and look.

Doing cocaine with the boy daily eventually turned into doing heroin weekly. This made me even skinnier and made me feel...confused. I was crazy and hyped up one minute and then I was all of a sudden anxious and negative and numb. The comedown from cocaine is terrible. It made me irritable, angry, hateful. So doing heroin after a coke binge would take me down to feeling nothing. Just bliss and peace in the moment, but only for a couple of hours. I would do heroin before bed to sleep well and start my early mornings with blow to get me through the day all energized and happy. I thought people didn't know I was on drugs. I thought I hid it well. But I was dead wrong.

If the boy didn't get me into heroin, I would still be doing cocaine constantly. Maybe not heroin, but definitely still be on coke and riding that wave as if nothing was wrong with me or my life choices. I probably wouldn't be where I am with my job today let alone have the job I'm at. Heroin opened my eyes and helped me see how dark of a path I wandered off to. It helped me realize, "Damn, I am a drug addict and I need HELP."

After a fucked up Christmas in 2018 after I shot up coke and heroin together, I almost ruined my entire life by acting psychotic and lying about everything. The thing about drugs is, they make you an incredible liar to the point where you don't even know what the actual truth is. I was living a lie, my friends were living my lies, and the worst part was I blamed them for everything.

I started recovery in January 2019 and that was the first time in my life I realized how much I fucked up the past year and half. I'm still fucking up and trying to learn from each mistake made down this road of recovery. It's so fucking hard though. Sometimes I don't think there is a light at the end of my tunnel because I never have seen a light at the end of a tunnel before.

I can't blame Colorado for all the bad that has happened, but I can blame the people: that person being me. And only I can turn it around and make my life good again.

#drug addiction #turn it around #non fiction

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scripted-dalliances · 6 years ago

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Rest In Peace: Chapter Two

Title: Rest In Peace

Chapter: 2

Summary: A part of Faithless Fairy Tale, a more in depth look at how they brought Laura back to life. Appearance of old faces, creation of new ones and if you’re looking for canon, it left a long, long time ago. If you squint you might be able to see some pieces from the book.

“Ut Vidi, Ut Perii”

“When I saw you, how I perished.” -Virgil, Eclogue VIII

Oh.

Laura doesn’t know what to say to that. She had presumed his reason was about her being dead. Of the possible rancid taste or scent of her…she had planned to tease it out of him but ultimately pop a mint before the big move. She had even expected it was due to him being awkward about Shadow being so near.

She did not expect this.

“Got a crush, asshole?”

Sweeney sniffs indignantly, “Fuck off, cunt.” Then later adds, “Maybe.”

She laughs at that, she really does.

“I am, in your constant -and loud- opinion, a dead bitch.” She leans up, placing her small hands on his chest for support as she does. Under her palms she feels his heart, quick paced but daunting with every assured beat. “I have kicked you through walls, nearly popped your balls from the sack and oh yeah, a walking corpse because you killed me but you still caught feels? You are one sick puppy.” The nickname slips out without too much thought, but honestly she isn't surprised that it pisses him off. Unlike Shadow, he doesn't take it like a cutesy nickname, unlike her ex-husband, he knows an insult when he hears one.

“Ain't no fucking puppy.”

Laura, still perched on him with all the grace and dignity of a queen on a throne, nods. “Yeah. No. Puppies are more enjoyable. You're more like a tick, one with like, the plague or some shit.”

“Oh, yeah keep whispering sweet nothings, dead wife.”

-and just like that, he is giving her that insufferable smirk, all teasing and delighted despite or maybe even because of her un-creative insult.

“I'd never thought I would have to kink shame a leprechaun, but here I am. Don't get a boner about me insulting you, weirdo.”

Mad Sweeney chuckles darkly to himself, all low and twisted, and if she was alive she thinks she might even like it. “Ain't your half assed insults, love. And I ain't a corpse fucker, as pretty and pleasant as you are with half your guts on display.”

Laura doesn’t even bother hiding her confusion. In her vast knowledge of the workings of men, their actions tended to really boil down to two things. Their dicks and pride, and everything else derived from those.

Even love.

Shadow had loved her because of what he thought she was, what he could build for her (never mind that she was bored and borderline suicidal) and she had even enjoyed that to a point. Playing a role, hoping he would break it. Help her become someone better and new.

Just as she had hoped he could bring her back to life.

She is not unaware of the bitter irony that is her shitty afterlife.

“Then what is it?” She finds herself demanding. Curious despite him being an insufferable prick with a matching smile about it. Like it's cute that she can't imagine the reasons.

She can't. She has nothing to offer a man, she is dead. She was broken long before that. She has no warmth, no heart or softness; she never has, she has lied and tricked her way into people's affections. Like the gods of death painting and sewing her up to look like a real girl.

Truth was, she has only ever been this: a bitch, bored and cruel, who only ever felt anything when it hurt. Who did more in death than she ever did with life. Laura was empty and cold, even before they scooped out her insides and buried her six feet under.

“A girl cuts the head off an ancient and powerful god to save a boy, and that boy might get some ideas.”

Laura huffs in laughter and rolls off him. Joining the idiot on the floor, who looks over as she makes herself comfortable. Hands resting on her stomach, legs down and out. She feels her death more now than ever, in this position with the growing silence and stillness. So she breaks it.

"Don't get any ideas then, idiot."

"Oh, why not? Go about slayin' gods often do ya?" Sweeney counters, tone false and sweet as if he was flirting badly and knew it. She suddenly wants to twist his flesh between her fingers just to make him stop, but just as easily, she lets the urge slip out of her. She's growing tired of this. Of only feeling alive when she's tormenting him. Or when he's doing the same to her.

It's a toxic game, forged by two people who are broken in the same way. Like fucked up puzzle pieces that have lost their original shape and now only fit to each other and nothing else. They exchange barbs, crass truths and hard hands, and to anyone else it's impossible to stand. Anyone else, and they would hurt, and flinch away from that pain.

Sweeney and Laura are just two insufferable kids, pressing their thumbs into each others bruises to get that ache and reaction, because no one else wants to play that fucked up game.

For a second she feels alive, he gets his earned punishment, and in any other relationship this kink would only happen behind closed doors and probably involve a safe word or two. And a ball gag.

(Laura's brain supplies x-rated images of herself bent over his lap, his hand covering her whole ass, each smack hard enough to leave her pale flesh red with soon to be bruises, just as easily as she can picture herself in mile high heels walking across his back as he curses her out.)

She is well aware of their twisted natures, their shared broken edges and only kind of exhausted at pretending she isn't. He is her killer, she his victim, but it is not roles they fit or play well for long.

After all she 'stole his coin' and is holding it hostage until she gets what she wants. He calls her a cunt and she breaks his hand and then calls him a dickhead. Both of them are total assholes to each other, and so neither can stand too tall on the moral high ground for long.

Worst yet, neither of them are willing to walk away from this. Not without a fight.

He has tied himself to her just as much as she has to him. For better or worse, it's his hand she's got a fucking death grip on because like hell she's letting him go.

(She refuses to do this alone.)

But there's a price, with never letting go and it's paid in revelations.

At all times she is exposed, from her bitter mouth to her rancid guts. The worst of her is unwillingly on display, and he doesn't ignore it. He complains, pisses and moans and laughs at her but she does the same back.

How could she not?

This is without a doubt, his lowest. He is without luck, weak and hides not an ounce of how much that ruins him. Everything about him that would shine, is buried in her like a bullet and she isn’t giving it back any time soon. Just like her, he's missing a vital piece of himself and the world tears them asunder, for daring to be without it. Just as unrelenting and vicious as a hungry vulture would rotted meat.

How dare you be less than what you have always been. How dare you stand and be without faith or luck.

Better souls would forgive each other, learn and heal. Better people would want to rid themselves of such poisonous actions and words, that got them screwed in the first place. To let death take her, to ask for forgiveness, to let go of the past.

-but that's not who they are.

As much as she hates to admit it, they are matching pair in that regard.

They will never forgive, they will never fully recover and they don't want to.

They would rather let this pain become gangrenous, let it twist and boil, let it dig in like a parasite and replace the pieces of themselves they've lost. It's this pain that fuels them, to push on and keep going because fuck the world, fuck the blood they've unwillingly spilled to earn their place in it.

They will not bend just for the spite and salt of it.

She wants her life back, but she doesn't want to do it with false promises. She doesn't want to be tricked and conned into some life long affair of faith, to surrender herself, heart or soul. She doesn’t want to sacrifice some other innocent idiot, or shove some different magical relic into herself in hopes no one down the line wants it back. Laura wants what is her's. Nothing more, nothing less.

-and she isn't stupid. She knows she only got this chance because of a magical coin accidentally given to her by a man who didn't want her back. That without it, she'd be nothing but road kill…

The image of the ice cream truck, on it's side. Window busted through and how she awoke on warm pavement with Sweeney above her flashes through her mind.

Holy shit

"You gave me the coin back."

Sweeney doesn't answer, and she continues. Tilting her head just enough to catch his expression. Haunted hazel eyes that are glued to the ceiling like it holds the lucky lotto numbers.

"When the truck flipped, and I went through the front. I was a mess, like...splat." Laura uses hand gestures to further her point, "-and I remember that, but not hitting the ground. Which wouldn't be weird, if I wasn't already not alive, and it's not like I got brain damage or something. So. From my perspective, I crash, I tumble out and then blank. Come to your ugly face above mine touching my tits."

"I did not touch your tits!"

She smirks, "Bet you wanted to."

"Fuck off."

"It's okay to admit it. I mean, I've got a decent rack, right?" Dead or not, she did.

"For the last bloody time, I did not even look!"

"Ah, but you did put that coin back, didn't you?" Silence again is the answer she's looking for, because he's never silent unless she's right. "So. You gave me a second...maybe third chance I didn't deserve and still tried to get Ostara to help me.”

Sweeney grunts in response. He is mad, she can tell, that she has figured this out. His dirty little secret.

“Then, for whatever reasons I haven't figured out just yet, totally stepped up to Odin to defend me...for like half a second before he kicked your ass, but I'm choosing to ignore that bit." Laura positions herself onto her side, “I’m starting to think you liked me before I slayed a god to save your skinny ass.”

He still refuses to even look at her so she takes her time looking at him instead.

There hasn't been much want to check him out, in the start of their adventure. All she knew was from what she noticed first. That he was tall -stupidly so- and ginger. With a smart mouth that pissed her off and hands that could wrap around her throat.

Now, she adds that he's also got freckles everywhere (and she wants to count them, connect them…probably into a shape of a dick), a wide chest with matching shoulders, that probably makes other women swoon with lust. That he weirdly smells like cloves and the best kind of beer -despite knowing that he hasn't showered in days- all with a jaw line that makes her want to trace with her fingertips because it looks sharp enough to cut her.

Everything about him seems like an exaggeration of a man; his height, his build and his hair. Large and not in charge, but that's only when he opens his mouth and then it becomes pretty obvious under all the flash and very nicely built body, is a rotten fucking attitude. Just like her.

Laura smirks to herself, aiming to poke a bruise she knows is a mile wide. This is who she is after all. "What is it really. Guilt because you killed me? Need someone to spank you, while you confess your sins and tug one out?"

Sweeney's expression hardens, and his lips form a mulish pout. "Ain't that."

"–because I'm well aware that it wasn't you. I mean it was. But I'm gonna go and firmly place the blame on Odin. Hey, speaking of, do gods have a hell? Like for themselves?"

He sighs, "No, cause if there was, it be here. Listening to you go on."

"Don't make me kick you in the balls.”

He gives her a manly snort in reply, one that seemingly comes from deep within his chest as he sits up and fishes out a crumpled up cigarette packet from his pocket.

He offers one to her, more out of habit than anything, that she takes and lights with her lighter (that she stole from him) and hands it over. Watching as he mirrors her actions, and slips the stolen piece back in his pocket.

She is mentally making plans to steal it back when he starts talking again.

“Its not guilt. Not really. Not what…what I think it means to your lot.”

“And the giving me the coin back part?”

He inhales and exhales. Buying a bit of time.

“Part of it, I suppose, but ain't all of it.”

Laura rolls her eyes, “Way to explain fuck all, Gingerbread.”

Quick as wild fire, he becomes furious. Suddenly standing and glaring down at her like he wants to burn her down to ash with just his eyes and nothing else. It’s powerful and violent enough of a reaction that even she takes pause.

“What the fuck do you want me to say? My life ain't some easy by the by poem you read on the back of a bleedin' cereal box. I was a king. I was a bird, and a mad man. I was all of these things and more, but saying them to you, do they have any meaning to them? Do you understand or even believe them? No.” He sneers, and she frowns deeply. Thinking about her reaction in the ice cream truck and knowing he's right.

Hating that she can't defend herself.

“Just as reading all these damned books is fuckin’ useless. You could read them all but it doesn't make a lick of difference to your state of being. You have a limited scope of understanding. By nature of what and who you are. Even dead and crawling out of your own grave hasn't changed that. You'll feel no heart beat from me like your lover boy, kiss or no kiss, Laura Moon. So don't even bother trying to test ya little half baked theory.”

He has called her cunt and bitch a thousand times over, but never before has he insulted her to this level. With so much truth and venom. Never has it been so painful to hear. Laura likes to pretend she isn't affected, but she is.

For a long, drawn out moment they merely look at each other, poised at the edge of some great cavern of suffering. His. The one that is fathoms deep with age and unknown truths that as he so rightly stated, she can not understand. It seemingly grows wider in their combined silence.

Slowly, the massive angry fire in his hazel eyes fades and he turns his back. Stalking from the room, from her without another word.

Laura remains, lost in thought.

#mad wife #mad sweeney #mad sweeney x laura moon #laura moon #mad wife fic

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elletromil · 6 years ago

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Stay

And here’s your second surprise of the day from me @bouncybrittonie :D

This has been a very long time coming. Like. A year and a half. I had to go through our tumblr private messages until March 2017 (well really it was february 28th 2017 but the convo lasted until it became march 1st) to find the plot bunny and make sure I wasn’t forgetting key points for this. I had to take 43 screenshots on my phone just so I wouldn’t have to scroll 10 minutes everytime I wanted to look at that plot bunny.

So yeah context for everyone else. And also you because you might remember what I am talking about or you might have completely forgotten that I once said I was going to write this since I very much not wrote it until now.

I once saw these pics of Colin Firth and was attacked by the idea of a Harry Hart who had retired from Kingsman and cut ties with his old life entirely, deciding to go live on the other side of the world. And then a year later or so, Eggsy, who is still a Knight, meets him by chance at the end of a mission and what I’ve written in this fic happen... And more :3 Because yes of course, this is a verse. The Come Back (Home) verse

Besides that, the only thing you need to know is that when we first started discussing this, we had of course, not seen the sequel since it would only come out months later. So at first it was supposed to be an au. Now, it’s tied to the sequel in that most of the events of TGC happened except Eggsy’s relationship with Tilde because while I love Tilde, there’s no place for her in this particular story.

Also a huge THANK YOU to @insanereddragon for being the awesome beta and cheerleader that she is. This story wouldn’t be what it is now without you either. Seriously, credits for this goes like at least 50% to both Red and Britt.

Stay

They nearly walk by without seeing the other, the only reason they do in the end is because Eggsy has to suddenly sidestep a wandering child and would have tripped on his own feet if it wasn’t for the hand shooting out and righting him at the last moment.

He turns around to thank the stranger only to realise that a stranger the man is not, even if he’s barely recognizable from the last memory he has of him.

Some of it is the beard and the eyepatch, but mostly, it’s how he’s dressed. No suit, not even nice trousers or cardigans. He doesn’t look bad, but instead of a gentleman, he gives off the impression of someone who just came back from a camping trip and wants to stay in that mindset.

“Harry…”

They must look pretty stupid, standing like this in the middle of the sidewalk and he hears some groans as people move around them, but he couldn’t care less.

“Eggsy,” the way Harry says his name makes him shiver like it always did.

Before either of them can say anything more however, they’re interrupted by the angry muttering of a passerby.

“C’est sûr que le milieu du chemin c’est la meilleure place où s’arrêter.”

By the time either of them react, the passerby is already long gone, but the moment is well and truly broken. Eggsy might only have a passing knowledge of French, but even he can understand the gist of what was said. And even if he still doesn’t care, one look at Harry’s sheepish expression is enough to remind him that the man is still a gentleman even if he doesn’t dress the part anymore.

They walk a short distance until they aren’t blocking off anyone’s path, but it’s as if neither of them knows how to start again.

It should make him feel self-conscious, but Eggsy simply feels giddy. It’s been nearly a year since he last saw Harry and nearly the same amount of time since he’s had any news of him. Not that they haven’t tried to keep in touch, but spy work is busy work and now that Harry has retired, there are too many things Eggsy has to keep to himself.

“I hope I am not keeping you from doing anything urgent.”

He wants nothing more than to reassure Harry that he has all the time in the world for him, but he had unfortunately been about to take a taxi to the airport to catch his flight. Before he can say anything however, he hears the familiar click of someone logging into the specific frequency of his glasses.

“Galahad, it seems there was a mistake and that your plane only leaves tomorrow.”

He’s not stupid. He knows there is no way Merlin could have made this kind of mistake. But he knows better than to point it out, knows better than to thank him out loud for his meddling. He’ll bring him back a bottle of the good stuff instead.

“No nothing urgent. Seems I’m free until tomorrow. You wouldn’t know how I can pass the time, would you?”

“I might… Would you care joining me for dinner?” He words it like a question, but the arm he confidently offers Eggsy proves he has no doubt as to his answer.

Eggsy doesn’t waste time with words, just links his arm with Harry’s, pressing their sides together with a happy sigh.

They walk closer than should be appropriate, at least for gentlemen such as themselves, but as long as Harry doesn’t push him away, Eggsy’s going to take everything he can get.

Needless to say, Harry gives no indication of wanting any kind of distance between them.

They’ve left the gray of the downtown skyscrapers for the red bricks of townhouses and duplexes of a more residential area. It’s different from London of course, but close enough that Eggsy feels himself relax anyway.

He’s not a fool though. He knows that a big part of that is because he’s with Harry, the man always having been able to put him at ease even in the most dire of situations. But another part is because this feels like being home.

Now, would he feel otherwise without Harry at his side? Probably, but it’s not something he wants to contemplate right now.

Harry leads him to a little cafe that’s away from the busy center of this particular neighborhood, but obviously still quite popular, at least with the locals. The tables on the little terrace are nearly all occupied as well as a handful inside, even if it’s during that weird time that is too late for lunch and too early for dinner.

Harry walks them inside where the air is blessedly cooler than right under the warmth of the late spring sun. The table they sit at is away from the rest of the clientele and Eggsy can understand why this cafe would be a favourite to many. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s obviously well taken for, with comfortable chairs and slightly mismatched tables. The walls are lined with photography, but it feels like they’re being exposed rather than being part of the decor. He recognizes some of the landscapes he’d seen during his mission and feels a pang of regret that he couldn’t take the time to appreciate them as much as the creator of the photographs obviously did.

Before he can continue his musings however, a waitress comes to greet them with a friendly smile. It’s entirely genuine, which could be strange, if not for the familiar way she’s speaking with Harry. Sure, he’s not the best in French, but he still can get by and pick up on tone, theirs fond and teasing as they exchange pleasantries.

“Et qui est ton jeune ami?”

“Karen, je te présente Eggsy. Eggsy, this is Karen.”

They shake hands and already he’s won over by the fact she doesn’t make any comment about his name.

They continue their conversation for a bit, in English this time, even if Eggsy makes an effort to use the little French he’s learned over the years. It turns out to be more than he thought, which really shouldn’t come as such a surprise. He’s got a knack for languages and the only reason he’s not fluent is because no mission has called for French in particular before.

“La même chose que d’habitude?” Karen asks in the end with a knowing smile and Harry nods, amused by what is clearly a little ritual between them.

“Deux fois, s’il te plaît.”

They’re left alone again, or at least, as alone as they can be in a public place.

But with Harry right in front of him, eye filled with a fondness that would leave him with shaky legs if he wasn’t already sitting, their little corner feels as intimate as Harry’s house had felt during their twenty four hours together a lifetime ago.

There is a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to ask, but it’s like all words are lost to him. It would frustrate him, but Harry seems as incapable of speech as he is and for some reason, it’s oddly reassuring

“I missed you,” Eggsy says, breaking the silence. But it’s entirely unwillingly, the words leaving his lips before he’s even had the time to really think them.

He feels a blush creeping up his cheeks at Harry’s slightly shocked expression, even though it soon softens with affection, which doesn’t help at all with his blush.

“I’ve missed you too Eggsy.” The words aren’t whispered and he doesn’t look embarrassed, just incredibly fond. No, what makes Eggsy look away from too many emotions is having Harry cover his hands with his own above the table, the way he links their fingers together. It seems so simple, like it’s not something Eggsy has imagined doing more times than he dares to admit without ever having the courage to actually do it.

The moment is broken when Karen comes back with a teapot and cups, but Harry doesn’t let go, simply grinning smugly when she winks at them knowingly before leaving again.

When he feels him start to move, Eggsy clings to Harry, an irrational fear that he’ll just get up and leave seizing him, making it hard to breath.

“I’ll just take care of the tea before it over steeps.”

He feels a bit like an idiot and makes to let go immediately, but Harry simply refuses to release his right hand now, expertly serving them tea with only one hand. Gods, he had forgotten just how much of a show off he could be.

And just how much he actually loves him for it.

They’re still holding hands when he finally takes a sip, sighing in surprised contentment at how it tastes and feels just like home.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

“They let me keep my own stash here since I’m a regular patron.”

He makes an inquiring sound, but his lips are still on the edge of the cup, gulping in the familiar scent like he can't the hot liquid held within.

“I come here a few times a week. I’m not short on time to cook, but it’s hard to resist their good food when I live in the flat just above.”

The hint of loneliness when he says it implies that he comes here for more than just the food, but Eggsy respectfully doesn’t mention it.

Even though he wishes it could be otherwise, he’s accepted Harry’s decision to make a clean cut with his old life after Poppygeddon. Besides Merlin, he can’t think of anyone who deserves the peace more.

At the time, it had hurt of course. Still does. Mostly because it means Harry moved halfway across the world. That Eggsy couldn’t just come home from a mission and meet up with him.

But it was the choice that Harry made and it’s not Eggsy’s place to try and change his mind.

After all, staying would have brought its own difficulties, its own hardships.

The important thing is that he’s happy now.

Of that, Eggsy has no doubt, even after spending a mere hour with him. The knowledge fills him with a quiet contentment that acts like a balm for his aching heart.

He’ll never stop dreaming of the many lives they could have shared together, but he still considers himself lucky.

He won’t ever get to call Harry his, but it’s okay.

He had gone through a whole year thinking Harry was dead before his miraculous return among the living. To this day, he’s still not sure how he kept on going.

So between knowing Harry is spending the rest of his days as he pleases and visiting an empty grave, it’s kind of an easy choice for Eggsy.

Before he can think of the million of reasons he shouldn’t, Eggsy raises the hand he’s been holding on all along and bring it close to his lips so he can press a reverent kiss against Harry’s knuckles.

He hears Harry’s sharp intake of breath even over the blood that’s rushing through his ears and drinks in the way Harry’s cheeks turn slightly pink. It feels like a reward for his daring gesture and he doesn’t even try to stop grinning.

“I was thinking-” Harry tightens his grip lightly before continuing, as if he too fears the moment will slip through his fingers if he’s not careful enough, “- I was thinking, you could sleep there tonight, if you don’t have any other arrangements.”

He doesn’t have any and they both know it, or at least, Harry must strongly suspect it, but it doesn’t stop Eggsy from answering.

“I’d like that. A lot.”

It’s a good thing Karen comes back with their order in that exact moment and that the crepe looks absolutely delicious.

Because if it hadn’t been for that, he’s sure Harry would have forgone food entirely and dragged him to his flat so that he could devour him instead.

From what he’s seen between the heavy kisses they’ve exchanged on their way to the bedroom, Harry’s flat is pretty nice. A huge living room that’s been divided into a dining room too. A kitchen that seems well furnished. He even thinks he’s seen another door towards the front of the flat that could very well open to a home office.

Quite frankly though, he doesn’t really care about any of it.

What’s important is Harry’s skin under his fingers and his moans in his ears, two things he cannot get enough of.

If it hadn’t defeated the purpose of taking a shower after round four, he would be tempted to see if they can get a sixth round in before sleeping and trying out for morning sex, but even he doesn’t have that kind of stamina. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if Harry does. Not after tonight.

And anyway, if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t want to give up on their snuggling together.

He’s seen Harry lost to passion a lot in the last few hours, either in this very same bed or in the shower, when washing each other inevitably turned to teasing which in turn led to round five.

But a sleepy Harry, all warm and affectionate… That’s a new first and he wants to commit it to memory.

They’ve been exchanging soft kisses for what must be an hour already, mostly because Eggsy cannot get enough of the feeling of Harry’s beard against his skin. It’s still not a look he would have imagined on Harry in a million years, but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. And Eggsy will have some reminders of just how much he actually likes the beard left on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs for days to come.

But now, exhaustion after what can only be called a sex marathon is finally taking its toll on both of them.

He’ll fight sleep for as long as he can though, unwilling to waste even a second of his time with Harry.

Harry with his bed hair and without his eye patch. His milky white eye is still as blind as it was a year ago, but instead of reminding Eggsy of the ugly way they had left each other before Harry’s brush with death, it’s a reminder that Harry came back. Even if he didn’t stay, even if he’s on the other side of the world, he’s still there, stubborn as ever.

He looks so relaxed now, not so much vulnerable as open. He’s not hiding anything from Eggsy now. He’s stripped down out of his armor and shed all of his masks.

Here, in this quiet moment seemingly out of time itself, he’s simply Harry.

With gentle fingers Harry starts brushing the lines of his face, his touch feather-like. It could be sensual, but Eggsy rather feels like something precious and cherished than the object of Harry’s desire.

Not that he doubts he is all of these things to him.

It’s just that right now, Harry sees him just as Eggsy sees Harry.

Right now, they are simply two men in love.

Harry’s fingers hover above his lips and Eggsy doesn’t resist the temptation to kiss the tips, to lean into the contact.

They haven’t talked since they’ve come back to bed after their shower and there’s still a lot he wants to say, but he knows that right now, were he to open his mouth, there would be only one thing that would leave his lips.

Come back home with me.

But he can’t do that to Harry. He can’t ask him to abandon the life he’s built for himself. Eggsy’s many thing, but selfish isn’t one of them. He can’t ask someone to make a sacrifice he himself is unwilling to make.

Harry’s other hand trails up his arm, tugging gently until Eggsy is lying half on top of him, head tucked under his chin. Before he can let go however, Eggsy grabs at his hand and links their fingers together. In their little cocoon of warmth and affection, he can feel himself losing the battle against sleep, but even then, he wants to hold onto the moment, hold onto Harry.

Morning and the end of this dream will come too soon.

He closes his eyes against the prickle of tears and if Harry feels them rolling over the skin of his throat, he doesn’t say anything.

Much like Eggsy pretends he cannot feel the silent word Harry’s lips are forming against his temple.

Stay.

***

Translation for the french

“C’est sûr que le milieu du chemin c’est la meilleure place où s’arrêter.”

“Sure, the middle of road is the best place to stop.”

“Et qui est ton jeune ami?”

“And who’s your young friend?”

“Karen, je te présente Eggsy.”

“Karen, meet Eggsy.”

“La même chose que d’habitude?”

“The usual?”

“Deux fois, s’il te plaît.”

“Twice, please.”

#hartwin #harry hart #eggsy unwin #fluff #angst #not a happy ending #kingsman #fanfic #me

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wellesleyunderground · 6 years ago

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WU Reviews: The Handmaid’s Tale Season 2 Episode 1 Recap by Roheeni Saxena ‘08 (@RoheeniSax)

Hulu

Last year, Roheeni Saxena ‘08 gave us a brilliant two-part overview of Season 1 of The Handmaid’s Tale. This year, she’s recapping every individual episode of Season 2 and breaking down each haunting second. Suffice to say, SPOILER ALERT. With no further ado, let’s venture into the first episode and see what has befallen the women of Gilead since the end of Season 1.

It is ten minutes into the first episode of Handmaid’s Tale Season 2 before we hear any words. Alongside Offred, we are thrust into a cacophony of noise, fear, confusion, danger, guns, aggressive dogs, and choppy camera work that heightens our disorientation. Then we come to the sudden realization that we have been rounded up to die. The floodlights come up on Fenway Park, a familiar Boston landmark. It has been transformed into a mass execution venue, as though the state-sanctioned murder of fifty tenacious and strong-willed women is a sport that thousands would happily show up to watch.

As viewers, we wonder, “Are we watching a scene from the end of the season? Will the rest of the season be a flashback? What could Season 2 look like if the handmaids are killed within the first ten minutes? Also, DAMMIT, we should have known better than to cheer on the handmaids’ rebellion against Aunt Lydia – and the handmaids should have known better than to rebel, what did they think would happen to them?” This last thought, that we should have known better, is undoubtedly shared by each of the handmaids on the gallows. The inevitable rise of this thought in the viewer’s mind comes from skillful suggestion and manipulation achieved by the frenetic unfolding of these non-verbal first ten minutes. We are there with the handmaids, sharing their desperation.

The handmaids stand, necks in nooses, and Kate Bush’s “This Woman’s Work” comes in on the soundtrack. It is a little on the nose, and yet poignant in contrast to the visuals we see underneath it. We are privy to the handmaids’ last moments: some cry, pray, wet themselves, and some just reach for each other’s hands.

Like the handmaids, we are in disbelief as the executioner shouts, “By his hand,” and the gallows platforms drop. But they only drop a handful of inches. Together, handmaids and viewers realize this is an elaborate farce to demonstrate how little power the handmaids have, and how much danger they put themselves in when they decided not to kill Janine. Offred verbalizes the viewers thoughts, “What the actual fuck?”

In this cold open, Season 2 of Handmaid’s Tale loudly announces itself as a furious force demanding our attention. As this show’s momentum drives it towards an unknown horizon Season 1 ended where the book ended), it takes these first ten minutes to demonstrate that this new season will deliver more frank brutality, more incisive insight, and more painful honesty. Season 2 will continue the excellent direction, camera work, art styling, and acting that were displayed in Season 1, but with an aggressive expansiveness. Season 2 promises to make a stronger statement on life in Gilead, and a more urgent commentary on how Gilead came to be.

As the action of the episode continues, its first real speech comes from Aunt Lydia, a woman who has secured her position in Gilead by actively oppressing other women. In granting Aunt Lydia the first speech of this season, the show asserts this season’s main theme: the complex relationships between women trying to survive in a world that hates women (like ours does, but more violently and candidly).

The remainder of Episode 1 follows pregnant Offred/June. Aunt Lydia attempts to use her pregnancy to separate her from the other handmaids, to scapegoat her for the consequences of their rebellion – but does she truly believe that a group of women trapped as reproductive slaves will fall for the myth that their unwillingly pregnant leader was looking out for herself? As June resists the weaponization of her pregnancy, we learn that “difficult” handmaids are isolated and chained until they deliver, which is reminiscent of current laws forcing incarcerated women to be shackled to the bed while in labor, as though they could escape while crowning.

This episode’s flashbacks are a heightened echo of today’s political climate. They begin with Luke placing his signature on June’s birth control renewal. Though they both comment on how strange this is, they comply with this new requirement, offering no resistance. While it is trendy right now to refer to Handmaid’s Tale as a mirror of current events, it is not really a mirror. Instead, it is something much more valuable. The show gives viewers a window into the moments when residents of a pre-Gilead world could have stood up to changing norms, and either did, or were too wrapped up in their own lives to do so – in this way, it is a call to arms that we should all be listening to.

In the next flashback, June is addressed as Ms. Bankole by a hospital worker. Watching her firmly assert her name as “June Osborne” in front of her daughter Hannah is inspiring, and reminds the viewer that the best way to embody strong feminism is to push back firmly when society’s patriarchal tendencies violate our selfhood and our boundaries.

Moments later, we watch June’s escape from the Handmaid’s pregnancy center. In this sequence, we are granted a series of tight shots on her face, and wide shots of her solitary body, hurrying through the dark with a flashlight. This imagery is not lost on the viewer – she is alone in this escape, and the future is uncertain, unilluminated. Though this staging emphasizes June’s escape as a solitary endeavor, it also shows that even in escape she is denied agency. June does not know where she is going. She runs until unseen hands lock her into a truck that facilitates her escape to an unknown location.

When she arrives at her hideout, she is again stripped of agency, this time by Nick. She is told to wait, instructed to burn her clothes and cut her hair. Left alone to accomplish these tasks, June finally takes control of her body, using the scissors meant for her hair to cut the red tag out of her ear. This moment stands alone in Episode 1 as June’s first self-driven agency-asserting action that goes unthwarted. She tosses the red tag into the fire, and we hear it clatter in the silence.

The final shots of this episode show June’s face full of determination, her blood-soaked underwear-clad body lit by fire that burns her Handmaid’s costume. It is a beautiful shot. However, in a rare moment for this show, the script fails to live up to this staging. The episode ends with June stating her name, her age, her physical stats, her origins, her fertility, her pregnancy status, and ends with her saying, “I am free.” Here, a simpler and stronger writing maneuver would have been for June to simply say, “My name is June Osborne.” This choice would have harkened back to the assertions she made about her name in this episode’s flashbacks, and would have reminded the viewer that, in this moment, she is taking back her identity as a human, rather than as a reproductive object.

Overall, this first episode of Handmaid’s Tale Season 2 was an audacious announcement that this show’s most shocking, aggressive, and politically relevant storylines will be coming to viewers this season, while everything excellent from Season 1 (acting, direction, camera work, color palette, writing) will continue through Season 2. With this announcement, Handmaid’s Tale Season 2 Episode 1 ensures that viewers will keep watching this bolder braver season unfold.

#wu review #the handmaid's tale #tv recap #roheeni saxena

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pumpkins-s · 7 years ago

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Interpersonal Mathematics

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“Really?” She looks to him in askance, the odd edges of nerves leaving her expecting more. “That’s it?” He shrugs, looking bemused, and she snorts. “…Did you seriously have no idea that entire time?”

Lance throws up his hands, waving them about in a dramatic fashion. “I mean I knew something was up with you, but I didn’t necessarily think it was a gender thing! A person can have like...multiple things going on at once. And I was right! There was something—I just didn’t expect it to be as big as your family being kidnapped by aliens and you faking your entire identity, y’know?”

Pidge rolls her eyes, ignoring the panging clangs that never quite go away of your family, your family, where is your family, Katie? “Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

(Or, in which Pidge is trans, damn well knows she's trans, Lance has no idea what he is, and they both learn to handle the complexities of gender identity, friendship, and each other, in that order.)

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Relationships: platonic Pidge & Lance

Characters: Pidge, Lance

Written for the @voltrans-zine, with permission given to post the full piece now that preorders have closed.

Pidge would like to consider herself a fairly decisive person.

She would argue it’s part of her nature as a scientist. Outside of the realm of actual possibility (which, admittedly, has greatly expanded since entering Voltron), she’s not prone to daydream or fantasy. Why waste time considering things that could never feasibly happen when you could work towards a goal that was relatively graspable, after all? It’s just far more sensible.

Regardless, she’s never been much of one for dilly-dallying or the like when it comes down to it.

She is a scientist. A programmer. A paladin now, too, she supposes. And yes, a woman.

She was one of the quote-on-quote “early bloomers” in that particular discovery, as it might be called (or perhaps it might be better referred to a soul-searching type of decision? She supposes it depends on whom you ask, and their experience with the matter).

Either way, she’s always known what and who she was fairly quickly— from the time she was seven or eight, in the crawling, creeping sensations of yes, this is what I’m meant to be, and the rather memorable occasion not long after where that young, dauntless, and stubbornly optimistic version of herself (before she grew up, before she saw the world) had marched out to Matt in the shoe store during their annual back to school shopping trip with bright purple, sparkly Velcro tie sneakers strapped firmly to her feet, and Matt had looked down and giggled in amused confusion. “I think those are meant for girls, buddy.”

“But I am a girl,” she’d said firmly, and Matt had blinked, just once, considering.

“Alright.” he’d said, and that’d been the end of it.

(Well…no, obviously, that wasn’t the end of it, more like the beginning of an extremely long, arduous, and complicated process, but it makes an interesting marker point in her personal mental autobiography, if she does say so herself.)

Intellectually, of course, Pidge is vey much aware of the fact that some people are not so well decided and utterly sure in themselves. Such people waffle on their even most confident knowledge at times, their faith in their skill sets, on their own identity. They may be unwilling to decide such things permanently, or may lack faith in their own judgment, or simply not come into themselves in that capacity until much later.

It is not, however, a problem she has ever had much at all, excusing a few circumstances.

She simple does not have the time, she thinks, to be so unconfident in her own abilities, her own instincts. Not then, as a child, when the world was young and new and fresh and she’d needed all the time she had just to explore it. And not now, when the very concept of the metaphorical world, or perhaps more accurately universe, is vast and wide again in a whole new way, and there are so many people relying on her to keep her head on straight.

...Especially given some of those people are her own family, and they don’t even know it yet.

Similarly, Pidge would consider herself a fairly quick judge of character. She can be surprised at the capacity of a person even yet, naturally, but she often finds her initial assessments are not incorrect. A decent example of this might be Allura: the princess has certainly grown on Pidge over time, and she’s come to appreciate what Allura offers in bravery and reckless strength in the face of her cause, but none of her acquired fondness of the princess has negated her initial assessment of an ice- cold warrior queen in training running away from her own past.

(She may not be royalty herself, or as in control of her emotions as Allura can be, but Pidge can with the utmost certainty recognize someone else fleeing from their own memories of what they have done, what they have let happen in their unplanned negligence. Allura let Altea burn while she slept, no matter how unwillingly, and Pidge had let her family be lost while she was thousands of miles away and could do nothing to prevent it. She can respect that they, at least, have that much in common in the unwanted guilt that rests on their shoulders.)

Point being, she can learn more about people like any other fallible being, but it’s additional data points, not a revision of her original hypothesis. No matter how much her teammates may grow as people and she may, in turn, grow to understand them, they are still at their cores at least in part what she started out with— Shiro is still a boy-scout-hearted inspiration to everyone who looks at him, Keith is still a hotheaded maniac with an obsession for speed, and Hunk is still a well-meaning teddy bear with the come-and-go intellect of a genius when he’s interested in a subject.

…With…one exception: Lance. The outlier to the average of this little equation.

No matter what she does, Pidge cannot seem to figure out the enigmatic puzzle that is Lance, in all his odd-edged, hyperactive glory.

Really, it’d almost be insulting, if it wasn’t weirdly interesting in a kind of bored fascination way.

…If Pidge is being honest, her first impression of Lance is that of somewhere between an idiot and, as the so delicately crafted term goes, a fuckboy.

Admittedly, her focus at the time isn’t exactly on breaking into the deep and meaningful parts of her teammates psyches. Or…much on her teammates at all, actually, but she thinks either way Lance’s attempt at something like a smooth and cool introduction wouldn’t have gone over well.

She simply isn’t a person for that kind of posturing—pretending such things is all in good fun, but putting on a false suave attitude in seriousness just makes something look stupid, in her personal opinion.

(She is sure Lance would disagree vehemently with that statement, but her point still stands.)

Over time, in being stuck with him in the close quarters that come with being a part of the same team at the Garrison, she reluctantly stretches her opinion of him to include a sentiment of something along the lines of not overall a bad person, former points not withstanding, but it isn’t until Voltron that her feelings on the matter change much beyond that.

Finding Lance after the explosion that destroys the castle’s crystal is…a shock. A data point incongruent with her previous knowledge of him, which had never displayed such an aptitude for... Well. She’s not sure whether to call it self-sacrifice or a suicidal streak. Another one of those cases where it depends on who you ask, she supposes.

That said, pretty much everything up until that point is a shock. The entirety of rescuing Shiro, subsequently finding the Blue lion, arriving at the castle, and most everything that comes after it is one big no-sleep, adrenaline-run rush of this can’t be real it isn’t feasibly possible but that hardly matters, survive this, move past this, they’ve got Matt and Dad you’ve got to survive this.

And of course, in the aftermath, in turning the castle into her battleground and losing Rover and watching Haxus fall to his death and realizing that yes, she has just killed someone to save her own skin and she’d do it again, it is easy to forget, to shuffle aside the anomaly of Lance in favor of so much new information to categorize, to reflect on.

(It is…odd, to look at her own picture of herself, in between the pieces that make up hacker and fighter and sister and all the other little snippets, and add killer to that image. She’s always rather easily conceptualized humans as just giant strings of something like computer code, what else is DNA, after all, and to filter through her own and find the pieces of programming necessary for that kind of thing is an experience, to say the least.)

She doesn’t really give Lance a second thought until well after all that, after they’ve seen him out of the cryopod and plied him with food, and she realizes yes, now, this is the moment. She bares the hidden parts of her metaphorical code and corrects an assumption she’d let lie, even encouraged, to protect her identity as Pidge Gunderson over Katie Holt.

Me. Pidge. Katie. Paladin. Woman.

On the one hand, their reactions are a relief. To have that assurance that, yes, they assumed she is a girl regardless, because body and voice and all the things not yet in her control do not define her. That her heart, her being, is woman, and that is enough.

One the other, it’s frustrating. To know for all her work, all her sacrifice, all the times her skin itched and crawled and she wanted to shout this was wrong, wrong name wrong pronouns wrong life, was for naught. They saw through her ploy anyways.

In a way, Lance’s overdramatic reaction is gratifying. At least someone had bought her disguise. Her efforts had not entirely been in vain. It isn’t until after that Pidge feels the numb worry in her tingling nerves and clammy hands as Lance side-eyes her on their walk back to their rooms, and that she wonders if his loud reaction had been for that reason.

(It is, admittedly, incongruent with what she knows of Lance, even admitting to the crueler aspects of her assessments of him, but fear is a curious thing, born from trial and error and superstition, and it is not always logical.)

“So you’re like—a girl?” he says, brash and unassuming and all the things that give Pidge a headache at the best of times. “A legit girl or…?”

She twitches, almost wanting to snap at him to define a legit girl, but restrains herself. “Yes Lance, I can assure you I’m one hundred percent girl.”

“...Huh.” Lance blinks. “Alright. Cool.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, ignoring the panging clangs that never quite go away of your family, your family, where is your family, Katie? “Yeah, alright. Fair enough.”

“...I thought you might be trans, honestly,” Lance says after a pause, squinting at the ground. “Like you were clearly uncomfortable getting changed around other people and you were so tiny for a dude so—“

“I am trans,” Pidge says before she can think about it, and only afterwards doubles back and properly registers that Lance had meant he thought she was a trans man, followed by the rather jarring realization that perhaps she hasn’t exactly made clear to the team that she isn’t…well. Cis. “I mean...”

(It isn’t technically their business, either way, she supposes, but she had wanted to tell them. Had wanted to be honest in this very crucial piece of what made her herself.)

“Oh.” Lance stops in the hall. “…Oh! Okay, yeah, that…that makes sense, in retrospect.”

“...Yeah.”

“So is everyone in your family just short then?”

She punches him in the side, ignoring his squeals of delighted laughter, and chases him down the hall yelling empty threats. And somewhere, in the mental files and folders of Pidge’s brain, the section on Lance reorders itself ever so slightly without her permission, straying somewhere into not bad, not bad at all, maybe even good.

...Somehow, Lance becomes a regular part of daily life after that.

(Arguably, the same thing might be said of the other occupants of the castle, given there are only seven of them on board and they see each other day in and day out, but she digresses. There is a fine line between housemate/teammate, and friend whom you relinquish semi-consistent time and attention to, and somehow Lance burrows his way into being both the former and the latter.)

He attaches himself to her with vicious, hard-won, blind enthusiasm, much as she has seen him do with Hunk, and despite her hesitations, she lets it happen. There is no Garrison to hide from anymore, no secrets to keep, and having friends here will not risk compromising her cover or intervene with her ability to search for her family.

Lance is odd in a very distinct and individual way. He is sharp edges and loud words and all the things that Pidge is not. If her mind is a computer, she thinks, then his is something of a cluttered chess game with loud music blaring in the background.

But he is smarter and kinder than she originally gave him credit for, and he accepts all the odd-shaped remnants of her without question, and so he grows on her.

He does dumb things (and learns from them, amazingly) and picks fights he can’t win to make himself look cool and robs a space mall fountain with her just to help her buy a video game instead of doing something he fancied instead, and he is…no longer an annoyance or hindrance, but an expectation of fun and excitement.

Lance makes no sense in the general order of things, really, because Pidge is decisive, truly and practically. She formulates opinions of people and they do not waver and they do not change, ever, and yet Lance does. He somehow rapidly spirals from problem to acceptable to friend, and Pidge is left floundering in the wake of exactly how this occurred without actually regretting any part of it.

And yet even then she cannot close the file. She sits with all the disjointed pieces of Lance and tries to arrange them into a complete human equation and is left with gaps. There is always a persistent feeling of something missing, of knowing it’s there and still not being sure of what, and it leaves her wondering if this is what Lance felt like all the way back in the Garrison, when he looked at her and knew there was more to find but didn’t know what.

(Gender and identity and Kerberos and all the little pieces—in retrospect, the fact that Lance even guessed there might have been multiple things she was hiding was pretty impressive, given how much of herself Pidge had tucked away.)

“Do you miss not having girl’s stuff? Like…dresses and cheap lip gloss and the ugly hairbands and all that?” he asks her once, long after the video game is bought and the wiring issue is solved, controller tucked in his hands as he squints at the screen, and she blinks and wonders if this is a case of a question being a whim or a long time coming. Maybe both.

“Yes and no,” she says, pondering the answer slowly. “I liked some of those things, yeah, but I don’t need them. They were nice when I was younger and first transitioning, because they made me feel more sure of myself, I suppose, but it just…feels different now. I don’t need to look feminine or dress as such to know I’m a woman. I just am.”

“Weirdly eloquent response there, Pigeon,” he answers after a long moment, and she blows up his character on the TV screen in retaliation, grinning widely at his loud exclamation following.

“Why did you even ask, anyways? It’s a bit of an out-of-nowhere question.”

Lance shrugs, nose scrunched up and the first inklings of uncomfortable crawling across his face. “Just thinking.”

“...Alright.”

“I think I would miss them,” he says loudly. “If I were you. But—y’know—I’m not you so…”

Pidge pauses her game and wonders if this is one of those times the ever-expanding folder of Lance needs to be edited upon. “You can tell me anything, you know.” And what a trip that is, to repeat the same words she’d heard her parents say, after Matt had brought her home from that shoe store with those purple Velcro sneakers and had spoken to them unsurely in a low voice as she played with her toy cars spread out over the living room floor, and a million little things had come together for her family to finally make sense of Pidge properly for the first time in her life.

She’s probably not the most emotionally competent person for this sort of thing, and definitely isn’t an expert outside of her own experience, but she’s all Lance has got out here, if this is what she thinks it is, so she’ll have to do.

“Yeah, I know,” Lance says, not meeting her eyes. “I’m fine, Pidge. It’s nothing.”

And she lets it go, because some people are decisive and fast moving and know who they are almost immediately, and others aren’t. Pidge is an early bloomer and a scientist and pragmatic. She knows what she wants out of life and she takes it with as much certainty as she can guarantee.

Lance is wide and open and fluid and changeable. He’s the kind of person to demand an audience when he wants to and then duck into the corner to avoid stepping on people’s toes if he deems it necessary.

He is not her, and that is fine.

It’s a rapid escalation of little things then, once it has her attention. Tiny data points picked up from observation and plugged into the half-finished equation of Lance in the interest of completing the puzzle. A silent pondering of not like me, very much not like me, but maybe like me yet still. She knows these signs, can point to them in her own history, but Lance is the anomaly to all her patterns, and it leaves her wondering on the potential surety of her findings.

Because Lance is everything—he is loud and brash and boyish, and quiet and thoughtful and mature. He makes terrible, flirty jokes, and then on occasion wrinkles his nose and walks away from the boy’s talk. He hangs off Allura like she’s a goddess and then sits and compliments her outfits and offers to do her hair with innocent enthusiasm. He is blurred lines and complexities in so many ways she too was and is, and Pidge isn’t sure he even knows it yet.

(Then again, the same things might be said for her. She is a woman in sure identity and mind still living in her little boy disguise that is a stolen mockery of her brother. An example of mind over matter in its finest, the physical losing value in the face of circumstance and confidence in what makes her herself.)

Lance gets the start of his own purple shoes moment, so to speak, in the inevitableness of the tiny things coming to a head all at once in an unexpected occurrence that seems plain on the surface, much like her own. These aren’t enormous revelations, sweeping statements clawed in panic and triumph (no, those come after). These are the little ticking-over happenings, the quiet, mental, oh, here we go, seeping slowly to the surface.

Self-discovery is not fast and dramatic, it is a crawling, sleeping, wondering thing, filled with questions and contemplations long before decisions or revisions, even Pidge knows this much.

They end up on a planet, on one of those semi-impromptu departures from the usual Galra-fighting schedule to assist a planet in need with its own problems, with a sacred temple that men are not allowed to enter.

(They come across a lot of amazing alien cultures, Pidge will admit, but the matriarchies, even the hyper-religious ones, are pretty damn cool.)

It’s a breathless relief, following an unwanted fear that they will somehow burrow their eyes beneath her skin and claim she is not woman enough, when they let her in after Allura without question. She is a woman. She is welcome here, in these alien eyes that hold no concept of human demands that state she is not quite right.

And then they usher in Lance after them, pulling the temple doors shut on the boys’ confused faces as they lead Lance inside and push him into place with her and Allura, and Pidge is left watching Lance’s wide eyes and wondering if aliens see more than she gives them credit for, after all.

Afterwards, when Keith and Hunk knock Lance’s shoulders gently and tease him in good fun about all his beauty regimens making aliens mistake him for a girl, Pidge watches Lance’s unsure grin, his shaking fingers, and keeps her mouth shut.

(It is quite possible they saw in Lance what he does not yet see in himself, and this is not her place, to tell Lance’s story for him.)

Because the thing about Lance, Pidge thinks, is that he is one of those people who do not know themselves quite yet—who trip over their own insecurities and easily succumb to questionings of their feelings. He is as she is, she suspects, she knows, in the itching feelings of not quite right, not quite yet, in this thing they call us, but otherwise he is nothing like her. Pidge knows her mind, her body, her (albeit likely metaphorical) soul, because in this world where everything is unsure and dangerous, the only thing she can truly rely on once her teammates are gone is herself. Lance is a rapidly spiraling game of impromptu and anomalies, the only file she ever had to completely rewrite, and he is still learning himself as much as she is, if not more.

Later, much later, he comes to her room, arms crossed and feet shuffling, and she turns on the video game console without a word, handing him a controller and fighting back a pleased grin as he patiently waits for her to get set up so that she can be player one, as always. He is so much more giving than she ever credited him for, in the beginning, and it is only fair she returns the favor.

So she considers it, and she gives him her waiting silence, because a person like Lance just wants a friend, someone willing to hold the pause until they are ready.

“...I don’t think I’m a boy,” he says eventually into the steeping silence of the simulated nighttime of the castle, and Pidge pauses the game. “I don’t think I’m like…a girl, either, but—I guess it was always there, y’know? Since I was a kid. It all felt…off. But after you, I started thinking about it, and then I couldn’t stop, and…and…”

“Alright,” she says, repeating his pointedly simplistic answer from a long time ago, and shrugs, smiling unsurely when he looks to her, which he mirrors.

“Yeah?”

There are still things to consider after this, so many things. Questions of pronoun experiments and preferences, of terms of address and potential appearance changes desired, of the long discussions she has already been having with Coran about programming the med bay to manufacture the hormone doses she was on before leaving Earth that Lance may now want to be a part of.

(...But there is time for all that later.)

For now, this is Lance’s beginning moment. His own foray into the first speaking of it as the way he and the world perceive him reorder themselves slowly. He will not suddenly wake up tomorrow and find everything makes sense all at once, but there will be the first prickling of knowing, of awaited change, and that is good.

They have time for the logistics, for the science and the decisions and the rewriting. For once in her life, Pidge bids herself patience, to let the both of them figure out the complexities of being in peace.

They have all the time in the world. In the universe, even.

(Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, in between the bits of Katie and Pidge and Paladin and Team, the file on Lance, idiot and annoyance and friend, rewrites itself slowly once more, filling in the gaps with completed lines of ah, there it is.)

“...Yeah.”

#Pidge #Lance #voltron #my writing #voltrans zine #pidge & lance #Interpersonal Mathematics (Voltron)

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