#I love the way they kept calling him 'Brian May'

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

Not My Job: Queen's Brian May Gets Quizzed About Dairy Queen

OCTOBER 28, 2017 (12:44 PM ET) || HEARD ON  WAIT WAIT...DON'T TELL ME!

9-Minute Listen <- (as of 11/21/23, the audio link still works)

Download

Transcript

Michael Loccisano/Getty Images

Brian May left a promising career in science to try his hand at rock 'n' roll, and did OK enough, we guess, becoming a co-founder of the band Queen. (That makes him the only Ph.D. astrophysicist in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.) What's more, he's also deeply into 3D stereoscopic photography, and has just published a new book of pictures of his band.

Given his success with Queen, we made him answer three trivia questions about Dairy Queen, the ice cream and fast food franchise.

Queen's Brian May Rocks Out To Physics, Photography Secret Stereographs: Brian May Of Queen Reveals A Pastime

PETER SAGAL, HOST: 

And now the game where we reward a lifetime of achievement with a few moments of trivia. It's called Not My Job. Brian May left a promising career in science to try his hand at rock 'n' roll. And he did OK. He founded the band Queen with Freddie Mercury, John Deacon and Roger Taylor, making him, as far as we know, the only Ph.D. astrophysicist in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. But he had another enthusiasm, 3-D stereoscopic photography. He's published a new book of pictures of his band so realistic you can practically smell the groupies.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Brian May, welcome to WAIT WAIT... DON'T TELL ME.

(APPLAUSE)

BRIAN MAY: Thank you very much.

SAGAL: I spent a good part of yesterday evening with your book of these amazing stereoscopic photos and the great little viewer that comes with them...

MAY: Right.

SAGAL: ...Enjoying these 3-D pictures of your band and its history and Freddie Mercury and your other friends and musicians. And I have one thing to ask you. How is it that in all the years that you've been in the public eye, your hair has never changed?

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Did any - nobody ever came to you and said, Brian, you know, now it's the 1990s. We need to cut your hair? Has any...

MAY: Yeah, they do it all the time.

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: I have a good answer for that. But it's probably not repeatable on your program.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: So there are so many things that are interesting about you. You were, as I said - you were pursuing your doctorate in science when the band started, right?

MAY: I was, yeah. In astronomy. In what they now call astrophysics, yeah. And I gave it up. And I thought I was actually doing astrophysics a favor by choosing the other option.

SAGAL: Really?

MAY: Yeah. And I also thought, you know, there's a window opening here. And if I don't kind of walk through - or a door opening, I should say. And I thought, if I don't walk through right now, that door will never open again. So I went off and, against all the odds, became a rock star for some reason.

SAGAL: Yeah. That seemed to have worked out pretty well for you.

MAY: It's OK. It's been OK so far. Yeah.

SAGAL: It really has. But...

PAULA POUNDSTONE: So wait, you're suggesting that you were not a good astrophysicist?

MAY: You know, I didn't think I was.

POUNDSTONE: What would make a bad astrophysicist?

MAY: Well...

POUNDSTONE: Like, you weren't looking in the right...

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: Well, what would make a bad astrophysicist would be, like, not being able to complete your Ph.D., which is what happened.

POUNDSTONE: Oh.

MAY: And I couldn't please my supervisor. So 30 years later, I found myself with another supervisor. And he liked what I did. So I kind of updated my vision of myself. But I got it after 30 years.

POUNDSTONE: Oh, wow.

(APPLAUSE)

SAGAL: Wait a minute. What I love is that you going in to get your Ph.D. not as young Brian May but as Brian May the guitarist of Queen.

MAY: Yeah.

SAGAL: I mean, did you - like, your oral exams - did you come in and say, I could answer your questions, or I could just do the riff from "We Will Rock You."

MAY: Well, you know, they were tough on me. I think they had to be because they couldn't be seen to kind of make it easy for me, you know? And, you know, I got a whole sheaf of stuff that I had to do in order to finish it off.

SAGAL: I bet that...

LUKE BURBANK: Did they try to work in any Queen stuff during the defense of your dissertation? Like, you may think you're the champion, Mr. May...

(LAUGHTER)

BURBANK: ...But this panel thinks otherwise. Do they do anything corny like that?

SAGAL: Now, this is the amazing thing about this book because in addition to your interest in astrophysics and obviously shredding on the guitar, you are a huge photography nerd. And you were...

MAY: Totally.

SAGAL: You were always into 3-D photography.

MAY: Yeah.

SAGAL: I'm just trying to imagine though that - it must have been like the mid-70s in the absolute apogee of, like, the rock 'n' roll lifestyle. And there's the cocaine. And there are the groupies. And there's the liquor. And you're, like, trying to get everybody to hold still so you can take a 3-D photograph.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Guys, guys. Come on.

MAY: I'm not going to contradict you there.

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: Should we just move on?

SAGAL: All right. I will.

(LAUGHTER)

POUNDSTONE: Every high school student has the same story, I imagine, on the way to sports events.

SAGAL: Yeah.

POUNDSTONE: Like, when I played lacrosse in high school, we would bang our sticks on the roof of the bus.

MAY: Oh.

POUNDSTONE: How this driver tolerated it I'll never know. And we would scream at the top of our lungs the lyrics to, you know, "We Are The Champions."

MAY: Great.

POUNDSTONE: And it was so much fun.

SAGAL: Oh, yeah.

BURBANK: Did you guys ever win a match?

POUNDSTONE: No.

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: It did you no good whatsoever.

BURBANK: What would you sing on the drive back, "Another One Bites The Dust?"

(LAUGHTER, APPLAUSE)

BURBANK: Can I just ask what - like, in the creation of an amazing, iconic song like "Bohemian Rhapsody," did Freddie Mercury write those lyrics?

MAY: Absolutely.

BURBANK: And, like, what was it like when he says, OK, these are going to be the words to this song?

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: We had a kind of unwritten law. You know, generally, this song was kind of the province of the writer. And the writer would have the final say. So yeah, we didn't really discuss it. We didn't say, you know, why are you saying that, Freddie? It was just...

BURBANK: So no one looked at him when he started singing scaramouche?

POUNDSTONE: Right.

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: You know, we were enjoying ourselves.

SAGAL: Can you do the fandango?

MAY: I mean, this stuff is really fun to do in the studio.

POUNDSTONE: Oh, I bet.

MAY: And nobody had ever done it before, you know?

SAGAL: Oh, absolutely. I'd never heard anything like that in my life when that song came out.

MAY: Well, and you won't again.

SAGAL: I know. I know.

POUNDSTONE: So you guys just, you know, scaramouche, scarmouche, not even looking at one another?

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: I can imagine.

POUNDSTONE: It does sound like fun.

SAGAL: Last question - as an astrophysicist, because this is interesting how you both - do both - can you scientific explain how it is that fat bottomed girls make the world go round?

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: Yeah. I think that's still true. I was just lucky to find out early, you know?

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Well, Brian May, we can talk to you all day. But we have business to do. We've asked you here to play a game we're calling...

BILL KURTIS: Have a peanut buster parfait.

SAGAL: You, of course, as we have been discussing, are one of the founders of Queen, one of the iconic rock bands of all time. So we thought we'd ask you three questions about Dairy Queen.

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: About what?

SAGAL: Dairy Queen. You might have come across it in your travels across America. It's a popular ice cream and fast food franchise.

MAY: This is the bit I've been looking forward to so much.

SAGAL: Oh, you are.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Answer two questions about - by the way, I should say that absolute ignorance is always an advantage in this particular game.

MAY: Well, you've got it in this case.

(LAUGHTER)

ADAM BURKE: I'm just picturing the Queen tour bus pull up to a Dairy Queen.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: It'd be the greatest day of those people's lives.

BURKE: Freddie just marching in. Blizzards for the lot of us.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: All right (laughter).

MAY: Can I go home now?

SAGAL: This is already going very well.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: So the question, though, for Bill is who is legendary guitarist and astrophysicist Brian May playing for?

KURTIS: Ella Jones of Baltimore, Md.

SAGAL: All right.

POUNDSTONE: Here we go.

SAGAL: Just two right, and we win it all. None right - who cares? Here we go. Dairy Queen has given us so much by way of frozen treats, the Blizzard, the Dilly Bar, the Oreo Brownie Earthquake. But it's also responsible for what other wonderful thing? A, the defibrillator device; B - the band No Doubt, or C avocado toast?

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: I would say none of the above. But I have no idea. The defibrillator. I'm going for the defibrillator.

SAGAL: You could use a defibrillator at any Dairy Queen. But the answer is the band No Doubt...

POUNDSTONE: Really?

MAY: You're kidding me.

SAGAL: ...Because it turns out that Gwen Stefani and two of her band mates met and formed their band at a Dairy Queen in Anaheim, Calif., when they both - all worked there.

MAY: I'm on the edge of my seat.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: But we have other things. There's this Dairy Queen - one of them - in Morehead, Minn. And it's legendary because it still uses all the old recipes. And it was the place where their famous dilly bar treat was invented. Now, the owner there invented a number of other things that corporate never liked - so they didn't catch on nationally - including which of these? Which of these failed Dairy Queen treats? A, the flaming sundae; B, the meat shake...

POUNDSTONE: Ew.

SAGAL: ...Or C, the heck-of-a-job brownie?

(LAUGHTER)

MAY: I'm going to go for number one.

SAGAL: The flaming sundae. You're right.

(SOUNDBITE OF BELL)

POUNDSTONE: Wow.

SAGAL: He invented a flaming sundae, a sugar cube doused with liquor - set it on fire. Very attractive. So your last question. If you get this right you win, which I'm sure will go well with your CBE.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Last question. Dairy Queen has a deep, dark secret - something they would rather that you - none of us - would know. What is it? A, their original name was Dairy Fairy; B, their ice cream isn't actually ice cream or C, the chain is wholly owned by the government of Iran?

(LAUGHTER)

BURBANK: He's operating at a slight disadvantage having never been to a Dairy Queen.

SAGAL: That's true.

MAY: I think B.

SAGAL: Yes. You're right.

(SOUNDBITE OF BELL)

SAGAL: It's true that their product - their frozen soft serve cannot be legally called ice cream because it doesn't have enough real cream in it.

(LAUGHTER)

SAGAL: Bill, how did Brian May do on our quiz?

KURTIS: He is a champion.

POUNDSTONE: There we go.

(APPLAUSE)

KURTIS: Two out of three.

SAGAL: My friend, Brian May is an astrophysicist, guitar legend and one of the founders of the great rock bands of all time - that would be Queen. His new book, which is completely worth the hours you will spend staring at it - it's of stereoscopic photos he took. It's called "Queen In 3-D." It is out now. Brian May, what a joy to talk to you. Thank you so much for...

MAY: Thank you all.

SAGAL: Brian May.

(SOUNDBITE OF QUEEN SONG, "WE WILL ROCK YOU")

[crepesuzette2023]

Beatles Books as vaguely defined friends and relatives at a party you attend with a new crush, whose name you keep mispronouncing.

The longer you stay, the more trouble you have remembering what the occasion was.

The lights keep changing. Shortly after you arrived, your crush shrunk to the size of a mouse, and scurried away. You’re on your own.

The Beatles (Bob Spitz) greets you, an attractive silver fox who seems to be shunned by most of the others. You wonder why. It’s as easy to imagine him as a crying wreck as it is to imagine him on a golf course. Here, There, and Everywhere (Geoff Emerick) disrupts your musings by pulling tapes from his mouth. Seeing your discomfort, he stops and hands you a photograph of John Lennon and Paul McCartney singing into the same microphone. As he does, his pupils take on the shape of hearts. Someone called George announces his intent to poison him.

Anthology (The Beatles) saunters in, puts eight arms around you, and promises to tell you the whole story. They proceed to speak in tongues, and throw popcorn at you. Stu Sutcliffe jumps from a pendant around their neck, lands on the floor, and scurries after your crush.

“It’s always like this,” says Body Count (Francie Schwartz). “I assume you don’t want to listen to my story about a gifted woman who got locked up for depression? That’s fine, I can also talk about frottage, and a certain man’s curves.”

“Oh, stop it,” says John (Cynthia Lennon). She turns to you. “My advice is: Turn around and run as fast as you can.” She demonstrates what she means by disappearing, leaving behind a purse filled with cheerful letters and drawings of herself getting married and giving birth. Everything smells of olive oil. Francie spots Loving John (May Pang), and rushes to her, greedy for gossip. Loving John (May Pang) is everyone’s favorite, because she doesn’t really know anyone very well, but she knows how to make everyone feel comfortable by saying things that make sense in the moment.

Living the Beatles Legend: The Mal Evans Story (Ken Womack) ends up taking her home; they both live at The Fringes. Her home is a little further than his, which is just this side of Weird whereas she’s all the way in Montauk, but he’ll make sure she gets there safely.

To make up for the disappearance of your crush, Remember (Mike McCartney) cuts your hair. Each snip of the scissors slots a black-and-white picture into your field of vision. Windows in time blow noise and heat in your face, and visions of a screaming band that looks a bit like the young Beatles. Then there’s the quiet heat of summer, towels rippling on the line, and a drain pipe screwed to the wall of a house. He talks about childhood, and you’re almost there, but you never will be, because he won’t let you in. His more verbose twin, The Macs (Mike McCartney), recites letters his brother and John wrote from Hamburg, but you can barely understand what he says, because he stuffed a tissue into his mouth.

“It’s only a story,” says The Lyrics (Paul McCartney). “Pleased to meet you. I’m a storyteller myself.” He sings a love song. “I must have thought about these things when I wrote it,” he muses. “Interesting. What a mind, as Linda used to say.”

He tears a few pages from a diary he kept in Paris in 1961 and hands them to you without comment.

At this point, the party is dissolving. Crocheted furniture floats away and stretches.

“Am I too late?” Skywriting by Word of Mouth (John Lennon) squeezes himself out of the lowest drawer of an antique desk, where, judging from by his crinkly pajamas, he slept. “I’m in pieces. Mend me with glue.”

“I will, I will!” Tune In—All These Years, Vol I (Mark Lewisohn) yells ecstatically. “I’m so glad you could make it Sit down with me and celebrate the heritage of Liverpool.”

Skywriting drapes himself around Tune In, who starts purring and rutting against him.

“Excuse me?” It’s The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story (Vivek Tiwary), torero boots clicking on the invisible floor as he strides towards the couch. A spotlight follows him. “I’m managing this show, and I insist on expanding the scene.” Around them, a hotel room forms.

Skywriting lights a cigarette. “Join us in bed, Bri.”

“Yes,” moans Tune In. “I’m so lonely. I’m the oldest of a triplet, or so they say, but the other two haven’t been born yet.”

The Fifth Beatle sits down and observes the unhinged biography losing himself in the friction of rubbing against the shapeshifting Skywriting. Finally, things reach a conclusion.

“And so,” says The Fifth Beatle, “what partially was, finished.”

“Stop repeating lines from a bad movie, Brian," says Skywriting, "you’re better than that.”

As you try to plot ways to escape through the skylight, The McCartney Legacy, Vol 1 (Sinclair & Kozinn) slides out from under the bed, a broad-shouldered lady in a bright red dress. A half-hatched alien with long legs and sunglasses squirms between her breasts, and makes mouth percussion sounds.

“Gentlemen.” The McCartney Legacy retrieves a very, very long rosary from her pocket. “Is anyone interested in an exquisitely crafted, finely wrought chronology?”

At the sound of the word “chronology,” The Beatles (Hunter Davies) crashes through the ceiling.

“Don’t fall for it!” The Beatles snatches the vocalizing baby alien from The McCartney Legacy’s chest, and kills it by wringing its neck. “Time stopped in 1968. The only valid extension are my own salacious additions. Strictly off the record.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” says The Fifth Beatle.

You exchange a glance with Skywriting, who is plucking pieces of Tune In from his body like children snatch pieces of dough, and sticking them in his mouth.

A camera clicks.

“Excellent.”

The Eyes of the Storm (Paul McCartney) lowers the camera, and changes into a suntanned, gleaming likeness of George Harrison. Then he changes into a fish.

“Everyone looking at the pictures will think they know,” the fish says. “They’ll have no idea!”

The floor dissolves under you. You fall into a pool, just in time to save your crush from being sucked into the drain, and after a barely audible edit you find yourself back home, with no memories at all, the taste of chewing gum in your mouth, and wearing matching tops saying, I visited Fellini’s Satyricon, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. (ETA: I can't believe I forgot about Dreaming the Beatles (Rob Sheffield). I guess I'll have to include him in the inevitable sequel to this...thing, as the +1 of John and Paul: A Love Story in Songs (Ian Leslie).)

[viscerax]

Hiiii may i get some brim angst🙏🙏

From the day Brian went missing, Tim's life went crashing down around him. Brian. Brian, his friend on the outside, secret boyfriend behind closed doors. Turns out, its not exactly easy to be openly gay when you're in the south. (Not like either of them didn't know that already. Brian grew up in the deep south. Any hint at femininity or flamboyance in a man and they were sent away to church camp where only God can save them.

But that was okay with Tim. He was okay with keeping his relationship a secret. Because Brian knew. And Brian was the only one that Tim needed to know. )

But when Brian went missing, no phone call, no text, not even a God damned note, Tim's life came crashing down. His other friends were limited to Brian's friends, and he had an itching feeling in his mind that they didn't really like 'his type'. (What did that even mean? Shy, dark, brooding, snappy at times? Could they all tell he was secretly gay? Oh god-)

Even Jay, who seemed awfully nice to Tim, someone he wouldn't mind getting to know, no, even his face fell into the blur of memories as he buzzed about his life. Pretending like it'll be okay.

(Everything is fine.)

Tim tries his best to forget about Brian. But he can't. Tim wishes those pesky memory issues would kick in and wipe that stupid smiling face out of his mind, but it won't, and he can't forget. Whether for himself or for Brian, he's not sure.

(Probably both. Because, if he forgets Brian, then he forgets that anyone's ever truly loved him. That anyone's ever seen him at his best, his worst, and even when he's not himself, and still managed to love him. If he forgets Brian, he forgets that there's anything worth living for.)

So Tim does his best. He looks and looks but he can't find him. Eventually he has to return to work, to school. He can't let life knock him out while he's already down and reeling from the loss of his closest companion. He does his best, and he prays that it's enough. Enough that Brian would be proud of him. Proud that he kept going. Proud that he never forgot him.

The days blurred. They blurred more and more. Memories become murky until he even doubts his memories of Brian. If it weren't for the countless voice-mails from Brian (that Tim saved in preparation for something exactly like this,) Tim mightve even forgotten what his voice sounded like. But no. He can't forget. He has to remember.

(...remember... remember.... memory. what a funny thing.)

And the days blur into a smoke, so much resembling the clouds of smoke he pushes past his lips, and he would laugh at the comparison, if he laughed at much of anything these days.

And then suddenly its 3 years. And Tim is celebrating Brian's birthday alone. Because he can't forget. Can't possibly forget that it's a day to be celebrated. Can't forget its significance or why its so important or why he needs to eat cake on this day. (Wait... who's birthday is it? No no, he needs to remember...)

Memories stop becoming blurry when Jay shows up. Jay feels familiar, like there's a memory of him somewhere in there, but he can't possibly make out his face besides a few faint memories of filming for that cursed film. That film that mightve been how he infected everyone. How he infected Brian and-

(No. No. He didn't infect Brian. He couldn't have. Nope. No way.)

And then suddenly Jay is leaking his medical records online, and he can't possibly care to search his memories for a sympathetic moment from him before he's punching him in the middle of a parking lot. To be fair it was kind of deserved.

The days continued to blur and merge, save for the few distinct memories he has of being with Jay. Arguing with him, late nights in hotel rooms, having conversations that would never be heard by another ear, Jay laying down his deepest confessions as if he somehow knew his fate.

Memories come flooding back like a cracked dam when he sees that audition tape from years back. He can finally remember. Remember auditioning, remember filming on hot days, watching Alex yell at everyone for far too long. But most of all, he remembers Brian. Memories coming back like hot flashes and suddenly he can't breath, not because of the intense memories, but because he's making a realization.

That was Brian. Brian was the masked man behind ToTheArk. He watched Brian die and he didn't even know. He watched one of his only friends fall to their death, and he didn't even know.

He didn't know.

But he knew now. He knew that was Brian. That same exact hoodie, and God, who else could it be?

Tim can't breath. He can't feel himself moving as he practically trips over himself and empties whatever contents left in his body into his toilet because it's all just so much.

Brian was dead. He was dead and he wasn't coming back.

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

Fuck with my head forever the Cullen Saga

Heartbreak

If my friends or my better judgment had their way, the last time I spoke of Cullen would have been the last story he ever played a role in. But of all the addictions I've been able to quit.. he remains getting me high and making me sick.

I was only 20 when we severed contact the first time. There were no well wishes, no chance of reconciliation, just a war of words so ugly that it began to defy our own memories. He called me a "fat whore" like he didn't beg to be inside me a couple months prior when I was dating his notoriously heavyset friend. Meanwhile, me and a couple of friends were taking pictures mocking the try-hard poses Cullen and gang made in every photo like I didn't stare, longing at those shots once upon a time.

Young, dumb and angry.

I still thought of him from time to time in the 8 years of no contact. The more time that passed, the less anger I had in me to give to anything at all, let alone a person who felt like some twisted version of my first love.

I had Tinder for maybe 2 days in total before receiving a lifetime ban, one of my proudest accomplishments. In the most cursed version of "ment to be" in those couple days I took a little trip to my hometown and that's where i was given the option to swipe right or left on a too familiar face. Cullen was on my screen and I couldn't pass up the comedy of declaring my interest in "getting to know" someone who fucked me before an 8 year long cold war.

But we matched..

We're we both having the same laugh?

Except he messaged me, and he wasn't kidding, and at that moment, neither was I. There was kindness and mutual apologies for the version of each other we knew way back when. Kumbaya and all that, but the confessions of wanting a second shot at everything we did that drunken night poured out. It felt like 8 years of waiting for each other to do it all over again the right way. He was single, I was in an open relationship. I was on fire, but as soon as he ignited me, he smothered the flame in a vague. "I can't do this." I chalked it up to his continued friendship with my ex and understood despite the feeling of losing him again.

He returned to me months later, "fuck it I don't care let's do it." He suggested meeting halfway at a motel, sent me videos baring all even his face. He subscribed to my onlyfans. But everytime I was in town he'd stop replying. He kept finding any excuse to bring up how it had to be a secret and that's when the cracks started to form. One of his best friends Brian would always seemingly be present on his snap story or liking my Instagram posts every time we messaged back and forth. "So Brian knows?" I finally questioned. He quickly explained that he was so excited he had to tell someone. I didn't mind, I was never the one who demanded secrecy but the fact that he had been so adamant about it made it.. noteworthy. Also, had I been unknowingly sending nudes to 2 men? And if his goal was just to protect Walter's feelings.. why would he tell their mutual friend?

I started to ask questions and he punished me for it. He deleted me and blocked me.

I lost him again.

Then he came back all apologies, softer than he sounded ever before. It tugged on my already foolishly invested heart strings.  "No more games," He assured. He confessed to having a gf at one point, and that was why he had been so weird and bailed. At that point, it was the least upsetting answer it could have been after months of theorizing I was a pawn in a sick game.

Especially after finding out Walter was also subscribed to my only fans. Whether they all were meeting up and sharing their notes or simply all keeping the same kind of secrets from each other, I may never know.

One night, Cullen was struggling, and probably being out of options of who to turn to, he messaged me. It was such an intense feeling because it was the first time in so long that we had a conversation about anything other physical intimacy. I had been dying at that point for any sign he saw me as a human being, and when he thanked me the next morning, I had hope. But hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like me.

I think it was around this time I first indicated to him I had feelings for him, and he was neither surprised nor scared off. He, of course, didn't indicate anything of the sort, I was neither surprised nor scared off.

But when I was in town he'd stop responding. Enough for me to ask if he ever had any real intention of seeing me..

"Idk sorry"

"Well maybe figure that out before you message me. This hurts because clearly I have feelings for you and don' feel the same"

"Sorry"

I lost him again.

With one cold word.

Now you're not going to believe this.. but he came back, apologized, and was set on meeting up with me. I knew he hadn't changed this time, but I had. After losing someone who meant so much to me time and time again, I was prepared to do anything. I didn't care about GFs, the involvement of his friends, but least of all my dignity. I was always one drink away from texting him that I loved him and that he was a piece of shit. The years of head fucking had taken hold of me.

Nothing short of a gut punch could break the spell.

And he delivered.

I asked him what he even liked about me and if he thought he'd even like me as a person when we met up after noticing how little actual conversation he invested in me in what had now been years.

He left me on read.

I followed up.

He left me on read.

Him not loving me back never broke my heart but that shattered it.

I wrote him a long goodbye novel before deleting him from my life. My friends applauded me, as I'm sure you can imagine how sick of him they'd grown by this point.

And that was it.

Oh come on you know how this goes by now don't you?

He came back.. this time in the form of a renewed subscription to my onlyfans. Lurking, liking and not saying a word all in real time. He always knew how to make silence deafening. Always doing just enough to not be forgotten.

Reflection:

The thing is, I'm not stupid. After the first apology, I questioned everything and don't think there was a moment where I thought he was a good guy. Instead, I was just pathetic enough to play the game for the moments he was there. Even famously getting drunk and telling him to "fuck with my head forever" after directly referring to our situation as unrequited love.

A part of me got a sick kick out of being so shameless. There is always this pressure to be wanted, loved, and chased paired with an image that is so in control that everything feels nonchalant. Once, I became the fool part of me, reveled in the pressure being off and honesty being all that was left. I could say I loved someone who didn't even respect me. There was no expectation for me to keep my cool, covers blown, the human pyche is fascinating, and feelings aren't always dictated by logic.

Let's talk logic actually. Cullen and I seem fundamental as opposed as we could be. So much so that in my wildest fantasies, we were never a pair. I wear clown make up most days and read books about faeries fucking angels but the idea of us as a happy couple is too far removed from reality to even day dream of. I guess I always just wanted him to be something in my life, some other than a loss but you can't control life and even less Cullen.

I can say after enduring years of mind games, I'm finally angry atleast. Even in the dreams of him that still haunt me, I'm angry.

Maybe round 2 will become a reality but we drop the niceties and we hate fuck, the truest expression of the deranged combination of emotions always seemingly cut short. I tell him what a piece of shit he is and he uses the remaining undeserved power he has to make me fold anyway. He can fuck me like I'm nothing the whole time I'm insisting "I fucking hate you." 

It would make for a good story atleast.

But he'd have to respond to a message first so don't hold your breath on that one.

[h-worksrambles]

The Arches build 7 is finally public and I just finished rereading the whole game, so screw it. Spoiler heavy rambling about the new update below:

-Howly pulled an Undertale and went meta on us in the best possible way, as Cameron’s reaction to the town allows him to see different possible futures. In short, he beomes a VN player, save scumming between the outcomes of his choices. Oh were you wondering why Arches is the only Echo game without choices? Well here you go! They’re here, but we’re not the ones making them. These games never cease to impress me in how well they take advantage of the medium. - This is even more fitting when you consider Cam’s character arc. Much of Cam’s character conflict is built around his self loathing and the belief that he doesn’t deserve happiness. He’s well on the way to recovering from his addiction, but he still feels deep shame over it. He feels he shouldn’t have survived while his mother died. He escaped an abusive relationship but convinced himself he was just as bad as his abuser. And his relationship with Devon is dogged by a fear of rejection. A belief that he’s a freak who will ruin Dev in some way. And yet, when given that final horrifying vision of his own death in the mines, Cameron chooses to act. He makes the choice to live. -Building on Cam’s visions, it kills me that Cam’s ability allows him to see everything, to understand even the minds of the people that have hurt him. In a series all about fractured psyches and traumatised people trapped in their own heads, unable to relate to reach other, the eleventh hour superpower that ends Echo’s multi-century spannig history of violence and tragedy is cosmic levels of empathy. Call me pretentious, and I get that it’s largely the result of drug addled disassociation, but I think that, as a message, is goddamn beautiful. -Brian’s demise was a cathartic end for such a monstrous villain. I enjoyed Cam’s rumination that spelled out what Brian represents at the end of the day, something I’ve already talked about here before. He’s emblematic of the most harmful kind of selfishness. Of falling into the same loop of self destructive coping mechanisms that make him a danger to himself and even moreso to others. Time after time he chose his own selfish pursuit of pleasure over basic human empathy. He refused to stop moving in circles, and so became a walking symbol of the town itself. And as such, he dies with the town. -The actual fight with Brian was viscerally horrifying. Arches has consistently been perhaps the most suspenseful and dread-laden out of all the Echoverse games. And this may just have cemented it as their scariest game to date. My heart was in my mouth the entire time and Cam’s last fake-out vision left me in a state of almost sickened shock. -Ending things in the mines was such a perfect choice. The place where Brian killed his victims, the place where Flynn died and was swallowed up by the town itself to become the Socket Monster. The place where Mary Applegate and others like her were killed by whatever was lurking down here during the events of The Smoke Room. It’s the place where all of this started when Sam killed Jack. Where the tragedy of the town has kept repeating, and now it’s where it all ends. -Devon and Cameron both come to terms with the people they’ve lost in the past. Devon, who has blamed himself for the death of Lupita, accepts that he can’t keep chasing shadows to run away from his guilt over her death. Fixating on the paranormal nearly got his friend and the man he loves killed. So he resolves not to go in circles, not to repeat the same mistakes. Not to ignore the warnings before it’s too late. And so, he saves Cameron. Cameron comes to terms with his feelings over his mother’s death, and accepts that he loves and misses her. And I love that Arches does this without confirming one way or the other the existence of any kind of afterlife (outside of Echo’s own supernatural influence that is). Chasing after ghosts out of grief was what got them into this mess after all. Instead, it’s really down them to decide how they feel about the people they’ve lost and so make their own closure.

-Just as many of us predicted, Arches delivered on its foreshadwing through the motif of half-circles splendidly. The arch goes from a symbol of Cameron’s inescapable trauma to an image of breaking cycles and moving on. The final scene drives this home.

...He found her arch. And she was right. It did save him...

Arches might well be the most oppressive, suspenseful and intense visual novel Echo Project has made yet. It got so dark that before now I couldn’t blame someone for being exhausted by it. For being worried that it would just be sheer misery right up to the end. But Howly played the long game. He went to dark places, in order to tell a heartbreakingly beautiful story about overcoming grief, breaking cycles of abuse and self-harm, and of the role selfless love can play in helping us become better people. And as a companion piece to Echo, a story in many ways about broken people who struggled to healthily love one another, that feels so fitting. Cameron and Devon are the absolute purest couple. This story has been devastating and terrifying but goddamn if I’m not invested in these two and their love for each other. That final scene was more hopeful than I could ever have dared wish for. Even with the darker implications of Cameron’s final vision. They’ve been through a lot and this is going to leave deep scars but they made it. Together. When that final build comes, I just hope Howly finally lets them rest. They deserve it so, so much.   

[winderlylandchime]

Hello! Anon with the brother here, i would just like to inform anyone that is interested, that he is already in the beginning stages of grief. I woke up at 3 in the morning because I heard some noise and when I went to check, he was WATCHING THE PILOT EPISODE! He was sitting on the couch, holding the cat and being dead fucking silent (which as yall can tell is impossible for him). And i figured, fuck it, I’ll leave him alone. But after an hour he was still up, so I went back to check and he was watching the prom episode and I decided to ask him what he’s doing and his exact reply was ‘mourning. They can’t leave me yet. I don’t want them to.’ When I asked why he’s watching old episodes, he said that he couldn’t sleep because he was thinking about Britin in the beginning of s4 and how ep 8 ended. And that he kept thinking about how much Brian changed while tiny parts of him were remaining the same and how their whole dynamic changed. And that lead to him being sad over Brian being sick/them breaking up. Which lead to him being sad over every time they broke up, which lead to him being sad over Brian and how his life had to be before the pilot started and that lead to him being sad about how he will soon finish the show and lose Brian. And then he decided that the way to deal with all these feelings was to go back and watch the pilot and then the prom episode, to see Brian change and fall in love and Britin grow closer. But the problem was that it backfired because that lead to him just being sad overall (mostly because he is going to miss Brian (and Justin). So now my question is, at what point was I supposed to realize that i may have made a mistake showing him qaf? Because there is no way that he will survive the finale (ive seen it a million times and it still kills me). The thought of him just finishing the show, is making him depressed.

I mean, i did (help) create the monster so unfortunately I gotta watch it have a mental breakdown but for some reason, I didn’t see all this coming. The gays barely survived in 2005 and now a random straight man won’t survive the finale in 2023 :/

Oh dear sweet anon. We have definitely conspired with you in creating this monster. He’s already in his feelings and I think you’re right to worry how he’s going to respond to s5 (another break up!) and the finale. Tbh I don’t even think of the cancer arc as a break up because it lasts like a day. But if you count it, then they break up in every season. Or are broken up for a part of every season. Ugh.

You couldn’t have known your brother would react like this! And it’s not your fault, it’s CowLip! Yes you showed him the show but it’s still a show in existence. And it’s still on streaming (albeit with the travesty they call a soundtrack). He could have stumbled into it on his own.

[jameszmaguire]

A CREATION FOR EVERY MONTH OF 2022

rules: post your favorite or most popular post from each month this year (it’s okay to skip months!)

I was tagged by the lovely Zahraa @willsilvertongue, thank you, dear - actually very similar to you, I realised that I had giffed more and more diverse things on this blog than I remembered doing. I did skip out the summer months due to a small thing called TUA S3, which kept the sideblog very busy, so I've added some more to the months where I actually giffed to publish on here

February: Martin Schelling vs the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known (I'm still so pleased with how pretty these came out, even if they are for a fandom with very few people in it, for a piece of media I hold very dear to my heart)

March: an inexplicably popular Lego Batman Movie gifset (I have no idea why this has over 1k notes. Lego Batman and Joker seem to be that good, apparently?)

April: my best boy James Maguire embracing traditionally feminine things <33 (I love him. My boy.)

May: Billy Batson's biological vs his first found family member (I think this one is the one I'm proudest of, the comparison just works and found family always gets to me - I giffed Shazam all throughout April and haven't since, I should get back to it)

October: Brian Rosenthal & Joe Walker at Starkid Homecoming (nobody but me cares about that, but since I know where and when I started giffing, the fact that these two wormed their way back into my giffing...some things apparently don't change) / Britney Coleman at Starkid Homecoming (she was so much fun to gif, honestly, smiling all the way through making this)

November: Mako & Raleigh <3333 (it makes me happy that people are still not normal about them in the tags) / A VHS Christmas Carol (These gifs turned out so pretty, and also everyone should still watch this show.)

December: John Kearns & Munya Chawawa on Taskmaster (that one was probably the one with the most work put into it, but I'm glad it exists) / Across the Spiderverse + Artworks (this one just makes me happy that I caught the references and could translate them into a gifset)

if you want (and if you haven't done so already), I'm tagging @seance, @tiffanyachings, @capinejghafa, @sohoseance, @viktorhargreeves, and whoever I am certainly forgetting here

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 23: Fathers and Their Archaic Ways

Masterlist

November 1769

Brian cautiously approaches where Da is applying the finishing touches on the maternity ward that they have been building together. Brian would've joined him sooner, but he had kept his distance as he knew they both needed to cool off. That's what happens when you have a big argument.

Da looks up. "Brian..."

Brian grimaces. "Hello..."

His eyes flicker to the red mark on Da's cheek, but he can see a bruise is already forming. He winces, running his fingers over his red knuckles.

"I'm sorry." Da says quietly.

"This disaster isn't all your fault." Brian admits. "I expected more from you than I should have, given the time you were raised in."

Da looks affronted by that. "Bein' raised in my time doesn't mean ye don't know right from wrong or how to behave."

Brian sighs, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "No, fine, I admit that. But I just want to ask you something."

"Wha'?"

"Do you know where Lizzie was when Ellen was attacked?" Brian asks.

"She said she saw Mackenzie take her away." Jamie replies.

"That's not what I asked you." Brian retorts.

"She said she saw Mackenzie take her away." Da replies. "She thought he'd taken her off to ravish her."

Brian scoffs. "Lizzie is a child; I doubt she knows much. You should've asked me at least. Bonnet raping her happened days later while I was caring for Lizzie. I found Ellen, I comforted her and picked her up."

Da's face contort into one of confusion. "Then why didn't ye defend her honour? Why didn't ye go find him and—"

"Because I was respecting her wishes! She was barely holding it together and she was desperately focusing on finding you and Mama. And I– I couldn't face the fact that I had let her down." Brian crumbles then, letting out a sob. He feels his Da reaching for him and wrapping an arm around him, keeping him upright.

"You nearly killed him, Da." Brian whispers. "Roger may be dead now because of you. I'd be lying if I said Ellen could forgive that."

"I ken tha' now." Da admits. "I acted irrationally but I dinna want ye, yer Ma or Ellen to be involved. She'd already told me she wanted 'im dead, the man who raped her." Ellen had not shared the sentiment with Brian but that she feels that way does not surprise him. "And I didna want te involve her in murder."

"Saying you wanted someone to die was a far cry from actually commissioning their death." Brian shakes his head, wiping his cheeks and stepping away from him. "That isn't the problem. Not really."

"What is?"

"You. Right after she told you that she'd asked Roger to her bed that you called her a liar." He points out to him. "You condemned her the moment you heard that she'd been with a man of her own free will. She wept in your lap like a lost child and still you stopped believing in her once she told you she was no longer a virgin."

"No, I was confused. Lizzie said it was yon Mackenzie who ravished her and then Ellen said she bedded him by choice." Da shakes his head. "It was that I thought she had lied to me." Brian can see he's genuinely distressed about it.

Brian makes a sound between a scoff, a snort and a chuckle, "Why did you think she lied to you? Why all of us didn't tell you?" He asks.

"Brian, what she did is nae how a woman behaves—"

"This is exactly why." Brian cuts him off. "You let your archaic beliefs cloud your judgement. You put them in front of being there for your daughter who's been through a traumatic experience and is terrified about what's happening to the man she loves. I doubt you would've treated me like this if you found out a slept with a woman without marrying her. No, you would've laughed and made a joke about me becoming a man but because Ellen's the one that's done it, she's the whore?"

Da goes quiet, looking down shamefully. "Yer right. I shouldn't have called her a whore."

"Yeah, you made a mistake there," Brian takes pity on him as he looks at his devastated face, "but you can still make it up to her."

Da's head snaps up. "How?"

"By bringing Roger back." Brian tells him. The face Da pulls is kind of funny. "Look, she loves him, Da. They were planning on marrying; they had done the whole hand fast before she found out he'd been lying to her.Trust me. I'm not happy with him myself but we need to do this for El."

Da nods in agreement.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[lucerodiehards]

Brian Fallon Crossroads 01/05/2024

Dozens of people have the same complaint, but that group only goes on the attack. If multiple people say your "just having fun" is ruining the experience for everyone else, you would think it'd trigger a little self reflection.

This thread seem to love walls of text so I'll respond in kind. Please - I am legitimately begging you - if you love Brian so much, listen to the his other fans and let these shows be a fun place for everyone. It sucks that NJ residents never get a real show because the group often hijacks it and make it about them.

These sentiments were echoed by 10+ in this thread alone:

Brian is essentially forced to interact and socialize with those close knit "groupies" that insist on a more immediate relationship to Brian due to their proximity to him and the band... Even if he doesn't indulge them, some of those fans seem to insist themselves on Brian. Banter, adding into his conversation, booing, song requests, etc... Those groupies annoy the hell out of me with their gate keeping and insistence that they know better than any other fan... Even on subjective points of view. I can only guess what Brian may feel about it from time to time. They're basically in his backyard waiting for their opportunity to have a conversation/story for themselves.

All of that said, I think it was made way worse by a handful of people at the front of the stage that exacerbated his "condition" and kept trying to insert themselves into the show. These people were all interested in pulling Brian into little side conversations as opposed to actually letting him get on and play some songs. I get that these people - as someone else here pointed out - think Brian is Jesus, but to most people there (or at least me) he is just a dude who wrote some songs they really like. And they'd rather hear him play some of those songs than watch you grovel for attention and little pats on the head. So if you went to the show and feel you wasted time/money, I'm sorry and you are justified. By all means be mad at Brian, but be equally mad at them.

+1 to the groupies. the blind worship and gatekeeping is exhausting.

The problem I always had was when the crowd engaged back and just let it continue on.

Too many people that were on the front row worship him like he’s Jesus, and think anything he does is good.

He should stay away from Crossroads for a while. Their promoter is a massive enabler (IYKYK)

Yesss I am in the gaslight groups and there’s one girl who thinks she knows everythingggg because she’s met BF etc. talked about how he feels comfortable talking with the “group at the front” because if he was feeling anxious he knows them etc. The groupies and know it alls thinking they have some insight and connection is laughable.

It was very hard to follow and a lot of it was off mic just to people in the front row.

He yelled at the crowd, he talked off mic constantly to whoever was in the front row.

These hardcore "I know and you don't" fans literally use their relationship with the band to correct anyone and everyone and put down any legitimate conversation that isn't complementary.

There is a very real parasocial thing going on in the fan base of this band, and it’s weirded me out considerably.

Brian played 5 songs, one being a song this annoying girl in the front kept asking him to play

They’re not fans. Everyone I know calls them Stans. They’re stans, and they’re awful.

Bonus comments from Facebook:

To whoever was in the front row - if the talking has been going on for 10 min and he looks like he's about to start a song, could you let that happen please. You made it worse for everyone so you have your 30 seconds of talking to him - us people in the back need your help.

The people up front cause way more harm than good from the vantage point of the people in the back - nice little convo about it before some left.

I think the reactions to this event have been the biggest turn off for me personally. Even the most mildly worded critiques were instantly dogpiled on and people being told they’re entitled or insensitive, etc. Anything less than complete positivity about a bad show was taken as a personal attack on Brian when there was really none of that that I saw. What about that is appealing or welcoming to someone not already a part of the clique? I’ve thought seriously the past couple of years about traveling to one of the Crossroads shows but wasn’t able to swing it financially with the holidays and with this situation and the group response - the appeal is pretty gone.

This is one reason I stopped coming to crossroads Fallon shows… It does seem exclusive and you have to be “in the know” or “the biggest fan” and it doesn’t feel good to be around it, especially in such a small venue. I love all of you in this crew but I did not like feeling like we were the “plastics” of the TGA world. I like showing up quietly finding the rail and enjoying the show. I don’t ever want to be “center of attention” and that is the feeling I got there.

I feel like every time I try to participate in this group I get comments that are less than friendly, despite being a member for years.

it wasn’t cool that people in your friend group kept queue jumping though. i was there on the 1st Saturday show and got there at around 5:30 because i’m short and want to be close enough to see the stage. i don’t want to start conflict but i know i’m not the only one who thought it was unfair every time we saw more and more people cut in front of us to join your group up in the front by the door while there was already a line growing behind y’all. I chatted with the couple behind me that drove from the other side of the country and they also seemed to agree it’s not fair to us who actually took the time to show up early and wait outside in the cold/ slight rain. at the end of the day, we’re all there to have a good time but that was just plain rude even if wasn’t intentional

I personally limit my responses in these groups partially due to the vibe. As for Friday, no one should be insulting anyone and everyone should be able to speak of their personal experience without being judged or possibly attacked by what can come across as a rabid fanbase.

the show kind of made me feel like I was back in high school- the cool kids have their designated spot, matching outfits, and inside jokes.

TAKEN FROM THE GASLIGHT ANTHEM SUBREDDIT. https://www.reddit.com/r/TheGaslightAnthem/comments/190sdc2/crossroads_controversy/kgwo39f/?context=3

[piastrinorris]

An Unambiguous Love [1/10]: First Day Out Front

:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 ::

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Your favourite customers really make it easier returning to the town you never went to school in. If only your friends at work would stop trying to play matchmaker between you.

Chapter 1 word count: 2428

A/N: Ahh, here it is! The thing I keep saying has been kicking my ass lately!! I really hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I've ultimately enjoyed writing it. Also big big love to @denim-mixtapes for beta-ing/de-British-ing the things I write.

“Heads up!” You look up at the source of the command you just heard to witness a paper ball leave your colleague Jesse’s hand, swing through the air as though in slow motion, and collide directly with your forehead. You give him a stern look, and he smirks while shaking with laughter. “I mean, I did warn you.”

You flip him off, “Way to kick off my first day on the shop floor.”

“I am your mentor out here, I need to prepare you for anything. Be grateful it wasn’t a figurine, that would have hurt,” Jesse points out. “Nah, it’s easy enough out here. You’ll even be able to run shifts all by yourself in no time.”

You hold up your index finger this time, “Correction, you could in no time. You know how many dirty looks I get just from saying the word comic in front of most men?”

He pulls a face. “I’m sure most of our customers are just like me, and I’m one of those female-ists! I let you join my D&D campaign, remember? That was great!”

You think back to the group containing mostly your fellow employees, and a couple of other guys around your age from Jesse’s past, who may not have directly said anything against you, but who certainly treated his poorly-written female NPCs far worse than his mediocrely-written male ones, constantly trying to pursue them until Jesse would throw a tantrum and refuse to “flirt'' with his players. Instead of arguing, you simply opt to look down so he doesn’t see the resigned expression that so badly insists on creeping along your face.

As you’re looking down, you notice the crumpled up paper isn’t just plain, it’s a half-written Dungeons and Dragons character sheet. Curious as to why it was abandoned, you unfurl it and read the first box.

Name: Steve Harr Bashemall

You chuckle at a half-orc fighter being essentially called "bash them all". You never really made any lasting friends before you moved out of Hawkins in your elementary years, and you and your family moved back just after you graduated high school, but this town's small enough that you know who Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High is. He works at the Family Video right opposite your store, with the clumsy girl who you once literally bumped into on one of your trash runs after you had to deal with a delivery of misprints. She had at least helped you run around the blustery parking lot collecting them all back up again, and you'd sworn you could never show your face in front of him again after seeing the silhouette of his broad shoulders and swooping hair in the store window, clearly watching you run around like a headless chicken. 

Jesse sees you reading the sheet and chuckles. "Ah, is that Harrington's garbage? Yeah, I was here when he came in with that, uh… Trailer boy. Munson."

"You say that like I'm just supposed to know them," you retort.

Jesse shrugs, "Anyway, Munson got his wires crossed, thought it was last week that we were launching D&D supplies. Brought in his own blank character sheet to, what was it he said? 'Keep Stevie busy', or something." You allow yourself a small laugh at the nickname. "But obviously that was pretty short-lived. He kept trying to name his character real boring names like Brian until -" Jesse makes some kind of unintelligible groan. "Until I said it might suit him to play an unassuming human rogue with a deadly secret, but he called that “pretentious” until he started yelling "Bash 'em! I wanna bash 'em all! That's my character!" so Munson told him to write it down. I don't think they got too much farther with it. I only found it 'cause I realised just now I hadn't thrown it away, it was just trash."

You fold it away and tuck it into a drawer in your desk. There's a very brief character description, if it gets quiet you could always use some extra drawing practice.

The morning goes by pretty smoothly, the register is easy enough to use, the clientele haven't been too harsh. Which means Jesse has “decided” to let you fly solo until someone else takes over. "I can’t stay anyway, I, uh… I’ve told Cam already that I’ve got a migraine coming on.” If he’s telling the truth, he’s weirdly unaffected for someone whose symptoms are so bad he apparently can’t work any longer. “It's not like you're on your own, Tiffany's just dealing with this week's delivery out back, you can call on her if you really need anything!" he calls over his shoulder as the door hits the bell that dangles just above it.

Sighing in resignation, you shout out, “Tiff?”

“One second, hun!” The other female player in Jesse’s D&D campaign calls out.

“Oh, it’s all good as long as you can hear me. Just thought I’d tell you Jesse’s gone for the day. Says it’s a migraine.”

You hear the clatter of something being dropped and soon after, Tiffany rushedly appears at the back room door. “What a jerk! You want me to put a word in with the big guy about him?”

You shake your head. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure. Cameron’s in the office today, and I don’t want him to think I need my hand held all the time. Just wanted to check that you were within shouting distance if I needed you for something.”

Tiffany pads over and reaches around behind your back to give you a quick squeeze of encouragement. “I’ll always have your back here! Especially over my lame-ass brother,” she pulls a face and you laugh. Fresh into high school, Tiffany has all the nerdy know-how Jesse does, and thankfully a far more palatable personality. “And don’t be scared of Cameron. He’s cool when he wants to be.” 

“Yeah, I know. I just spent… So damn long in that back room. I don’t want to cause trouble on my first day out.” You sigh. 

“I’m gonna miss having my behind-the-scenes sister with me!” Tiff pouts.

You grin, “Just makes us the dream team now, right?”

“The face and the brains!” She mirrors your expression, pointing at you and then herself, and runs off before she can see your borderline offended look.

A little while after noon hits, after a dull enough morning that you’ve been spending your time absent-mindely drawing, the doorbell tolls. You look up to see the familiar silhouette of a stocky man with perfect hair, but this time you can see his warm eyes and chiselled jaw. He at first goes straight for the comic section, thumbing through different boxes with his tongue poking his cheek out and looking confused.

“Need some help?” You offer, and he gets snapped out of his trance to look at you for the first time. His expression when he locks eyes with you is so much softer than you were expecting from the charismatic reputation that has preceded him.

“Uh, yeah, actually, sorry. Friend of mine wanted me to pick him up a… number 200 Lantern? Said I should get here nice and early in case it sells out fast. Apparently it’s a big one?” he asks, blowing air through his lips in a rasp and holding his arm out in a half-shrug.

For a moment, you understand the power trip that knowing more than someone else can have, but you’re no Jesse. Instead, you nod understandingly. “Got it, Green Lantern #200. Yeah, it’s literally a big one. Poor Tiff’s been fighting with them all day back there,” you gesture with your head to the back room door. “They came in this morning, but they don’t hit the shelves until tomorrow. Same day the D&D stuff gets out, too. Sorry.”

He groans, “Stupid Dustin, getting the date wrong… Sorry for wasting your time,” he states as he wanders up to your counter. He notices that you’re drawing something and leans over to look. “I’m Steve, by the - oh,” he stops suddenly when he recognises the crumpled up paper you’ve been using for reference. “Is that -”

You don’t usually embarrass easily, but your cheeks do tint pink. “Uh, yeah, one of my colleagues used this sheet as a missile and I figured since I haven’t had much practice drawing orcs - or half-orcs, in this case - I could give it a go.”

“So this is what Bashemall looks like, huh?” he asks, swivelling himself around to angle his point of view to look at it from your perspective. “That’s amazing.”

“Well, ultimately only you know that. I’m just going by what little is written here, and some reference of my own knowledge of orcs’ anatomy. Um, you haven’t really said anything about hair, though, so I’m not sure what would look best on him…” you study your sketchbook page, tilting your head from side to side as you try to imagine different hairstyles on him.

“Well, I mean, I put enough effort into my own hair that I’d like to think it would look good no matter what kind of face I had, so… Maybe he could have hair like mine?”

You look back up at him, eyes narrowing as you study the way his hair looks for a moment. “Sure, I could do that,” you nod. “Mind if I use you as reference, or do you gotta head back?”

“Ah, Robin can cope without me for a few minutes,” he waves off before snorting a quick chuckle out of a half-smile. “She, uh, she’s the one who helped you whip the parking lot back into shape a couple weeks back.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Wow, so you are the one who just stood watching in the window! How heroic,” you smile sarcastically and he laughs harder. “Alright, well, I’ve been drawing this guy at a ¾ view so if you could just move your head…” you try and gesture with your hands how you want his head positioned, but he doesn’t seem to be getting it. Instead, you opt for using the end of your pencil to push his jaw up slightly, then across slightly until it’s angled just right.

“You need me to make a face for you?” Steve asks, immediately cycling through an array of facial expressions.

You giggle, “Not for the drawing, but for my own entertainment, sure!” He continues pulling faces until you’ve sketched a full head of hair. You hold your sketchbook up and he finally breaks pose to look at it in full.

His face is filled with admiration. “This is so good! Almost makes me want to pick it up. Almost,” he points at you, eyes wide. “But not totally. It’s still very much Munson’s and the kids’ thing,” he shakes his head. “I can’t wrap my head around it all.”

“Well, then, I’m super honoured that you entertained the idea of me drawing a D&D character that’ll never see the light of day,” you smile, before having an idea. Holding a single finger up, you ask, “Please hold just a second,” before slinking back to the back room.

You open the door to find Tiff backing away, far closer than she should have been if she were at her post. “Is that the Steve Harrington out there I hear?!”

“Yeah… Yeah,” you nod, half-distractedly. Despite the fact he’s only a door away, part of you just wants him back in your field of vision as soon as possible. Looking over at the manager’s office’s closed door, trying to stay out of its earshot, you ask in a hushed tone, “Uh, hey, I don’t suppose you could slide me a copy of Green Lantern a day early? I’ll make sure it all gets paid for, I jus-”

“Say no more,” Tiffany singsongs as she presses a copy into your chest. “Just remember to ask me to be your maid of honour.”

You roll your eyes at her as you head back out to the shop floor. You toss the issue onto the counter and gesture to it. “There you go. For being such a good model. Don’t go telling anybody you got it a day early, though.”

Steve gasps deeply, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Oh, I’m definitely gonna be Henderson’s favourite for this! Thanks, I seriously owe you!”

You narrow your eyes, “I literally just said this makes up for letting me draw your hair! You don’t owe me shit now.”

“Oh no, trust me, you have no idea what this is going to do to my reputation. I still owe you so hard,” Steve picks the issue up and tucks it beneath his jacket.

“Just… Maybe come back every once in a while? It’d be nice to have a friendly face around every now and again to chat to,” you suggest.

Steve salutes, “You got it…” He leans in to read your name badge and calls you by name. Huh, guess you forgot to introduce yourself. Maybe you should be doing that more. 

He rushes out of the store, back to his own workplace, and you step back to rap your knuckles against the back room door. “You can come out now, Tiff,” you murmur just loud enough to be heard on the other side.

Sure enough, Tiffany opens the door just enough to poke her head through the gap. “Oh my  god, he is so into you.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Please, he’s just being friendly. There was nothing flirty about anything either of us said.”

“Exactly!” Tiffany hisses. “If I know anything about Steve Harrington, from what I’ve heard, he usually flirts so hard! You clearly make him nervous, he’s obviously intimidated by you. Trust me.”

“You want me to ‘trust’ what you’ve ‘heard’ about someone who graduated last year, before you were even at that school?” you ask in disbelief, shaking your head. “He just seemed like he was being nice. I dunno. It’d be cool to have a friend outside of here, too.”

“Well, I’m still gonna have hope,” Tiffany shrugs as she sneaks back to her work.

When your shift finally ends, as you get to your car you look up at Family Video one last time to see Steve at the window. He lifts his hand to just in front of his chest to give you a small wave goodbye with a soft smile to match. You wave back, feeling a sensation of warmth emanate all through your body.

[loafslibrary]

Sunshine and Sunflowers (Sundrop x Reader) - Part 3

Part 1, Part 2 ___ Part 4

Description:

You not only confront Sunny about the picture he drew of the two of you, but also ask him why you have never met Moon before.

Theme/Category:

Fluff, Angst

Warnings:

None

Authors Note/s:

Might edit this later and this is a filler chapter, but I promise its still good and needed to develop the story. Also this is turning into more of a slow burn than I thought, sorry!

(AFAB reader, She/Her pronouns used for reader)  - 🍞

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

The rest of the day managed to go smoothly. Sunny was still stammering when he spoke though, especially to you and he couldn’t seem to make direct eye contact with you for too long, growing shy and awkward if you did happen to catch each other’s eye. He also kept his distance which was very out of character. Normally, he’d be chatting your ear off, or attempting to make you laugh. Now he was just quiet.

Eventually the children went home, each one saying goodbye to yourself and Sunny until it was just the two of you left.

You yawned softly, stretching out your aching limbs. You had to admit, the daycare was severely understaffed, resulting in you and Brian often having to do whole days of work just as you and Sun, which was too much considering the number of kids that would turn up.

“Well, shall we tidy up and get ready for tomorrow?”, you suggested, turning around to find Sunny standing a way off by the ball pit.

“O-Oh! Sure! Yes! O-Of course!”, he rambled out and slowly made his way over, picking up a few stray building block that had been left scattered across the floor. You on the other hand, began with the craft table. There were still a few scraps of paper that had been left as well as splotches of glue and glitter being stuck to the table’s surface.

You walked over to the desk and grabbed some wipes before beginning to scrub down the table as best as you could, then you began picking up any scraps of paper and left-over materials, putting away the re-usable ones and throwing away the unsalvageable. Lastly, you focused on the floor, picking up anything that may have fallen. It was then that you saw a scrunched-up ball of paper on the floor. Thinking it was one of the kid’s drawings that they didn’t like and tried to throw away, you picked it up and began unfolding it. Often, children would get frustrated and screw their drawings up, but you liked to show them the beauty of what they had created and encourage them to keep working on it instead of giving up.

“Oh, you don’t want to see that!”, Sundrop called out in a panicked state, trying to hurry over to you before you could see that it was his picture.

“Do you know what it is?”, you asked, opening the picture to reveal a crumpled drawing of you and Sun together, hugging and surrounded by hearts.

WHACK

Sun smacked the paper down onto the ground and out of your hand as he dived forward in attempts to reach it in time, wanting to block the picture from your view, causing him to fall flat on his face. But obviously it was already too late.

You stood in stunned silence for a second, surprised to say the least by Sun’s actions. Meanwhile, he stayed on the floor, not daring to meet your gaze.

After a long silence, you finally spoke. “Is this what the kids were teasing you about earlier?”, you asked, helping the animatronic up off the soft flooring.

Sunny gave no response. Only the sound of his internal fans whirling like mad could be heard. You then picked up the drawing, smoothing it out before giving it a proper look over.

“I like it!”.

Sun’s head snapped to look in your direction, caught off-guard, to say the least, by your reaction. “Y-You do?”.

“Yeah. It’s sweet and I love the glitter glue! The googly eyes are a nice touch, all be it a little goofy”, you chuckled as you folded it up. “Would it be okay if I took it home?”, you asked, tilting your head to the side as you gazed into his unblinking eyes.

“O-Of course you can!”, he gleamed as you then placed the picture in your pocket, but as you did, the animatronic noticed something… was that-…

“You’re wearing the ring I made you”.

You stood blinking for a second before you looked down at your hand. “Yes, I am”.

“Why?”

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. Why were you wearing it? He was animatronic. Anyone else would have thrown it out once they got home. Or at least taken it home and not worn it again. Though, Sunny had made it clear that he did actually like you, and not just because of his AI. He liked you on his own free will, which you still couldn’t quite believe. It amazed you that he had some form of free will. That he could think… That he could… feel?

“I guess you mean a lot to me, so this ring means a lot to me. That’s why I’m still wearing it”. You were uncertain in your own words. What were you saying?

You liked Sundrop. He chased away your worries when you were having a bad day, he made you feel safe, and he could make you laugh so hard that your stomach hurt. Even though you both called each other ‘best friend’, more so because that’s how Sunny addressed all the daycare staff, you truly felt a deep connection with this robot.

You quickly shook yourself out of your thoughts and returned to your cleaning duties. “Let’s carry on cleaning up”.

You began bagging up the rubbish to take out when you left and continued wiping over the large surfaces of the daycare, making sure it was all sanitary for the kids tomorrow. Sundrop was by your side, doing the same and helping as much as he could. It was clear he was feeling a little better as his movements were more fluid and less stiff, as if he were completely relaxing once again. It was silent between the two of you for a while before Sunny broke it.

“Can I ask you a question, friend?”.

“Sure! Fire away!”.

He stalled for a moment, trying to think of how to phrase his next sentence, or possibly second guessing if he sound ask his question at all. “Do you think… a human could ever like someone like me?”.

“Of course! Everyone who visits likes you, and you have so many good reviews-“.

“N-No… I mean, like-like… Do you think a human could ever like-like someone like me? An animatronic?”. Sunny was now staring directly at you, all his attention focused on the one person in the room right now- on the one person who mattered. You. He was watching you so intensely, as if he everything hang in the balance of your answer. As if your answer determined life or death.

Originally, you were going to go into a speech about love, and how it has no bounds, however, in reality far less words fell from your lips. “Yes. I think someone could have romantic feelings towards you”.

“Really?”.

“You’re sweet, kind, caring, thoughtful-“, you began to list as you polished the daycare security desk. “You’re rather striking in terms of looks too. I’ve met a lot more animatronics who are absolutely terrifying. But yes, overall, I’d say someone could easily develop feelings for you”. After all, you knew for sure that you had developed some sort of feelings towards Sunny since you started working here a couple of months ago.

Sundrop let out a soft giggle, which seemed to merge with a sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good to hear!”. You tore your attention away from your cleaning duties and focused on your friend. You couldn’t help the gentle smile that began to grace your features as he seemed to grow more cheerful.

With your duties done, you figured you could spend a little longer in the daycare before you headed home. “So, Sunny, what do you do once I go home? Do you just power down? Or do you stay up all night?”, you asked, trailing through the daycare to settle on a plush bench by the ball pit, Sundrop following at your heels.

“Sometimes I power down, sometimes I finish a drawing that I was doing earlier in the day, and sometimes I speak to Moon”, Sun’s voice was filled with it’s usual joy once again.

“I’ve never met Moon! Naptimes were stopped the week before I started work here”, you hummed, your brows pinching together at the thought that Sunny had a whole other side to him, another entity, that you had not met yet. “Can I meet him?”.

“NO!”, the exclamation caused you to jump. “Moon can’t-… He’s not safe to be around right now”. Immediately after saying this, Sundrop threw his hands over his mouth, meaning he probably shouldn’t have said that.

“What do you mean Sunny?”. Your curiosity was getting the best of you here. Why was Moon such a secret that Sun didn’t want you knowing about? Besides, he was advertised all over the daycare, so did he really think he could hide him from you for long?

“No! No! No! No!”, Sundrop began to panic, his hands going from covering his mouth to now holding the sides of his face. “You won’t like us! Moon would scare you!”. His panicked tone rang out through the daycare and he seemed to be growing more hysterical by the second, so much to the point where he was shaking slightly. A memory of how you had calmed him down the other day flashed across your vision for a second and you knew what you needed to do.

You gently placed your hands over his, holding both his hands and faceplate gently in your grasp. “Sunny, it’s okay! I’m always going to like you! And I’m sure Moon wouldn’t scare me. If he’s anything like you then I’m sure I’ll love him!”.

Sunny’s shaking slowly came to a stop as he listened to your words. “Look, I don’t have to meet Moon if you don’t want me to, but could you at least tell me why?”.

Sundrop sat quietly, not making a sound, just watching you for a few seconds before he took your hands in his and removed them from his face, instead holding them between the two of you. He ran his silicone thumbs over the backs of your hands with the same amount of care and softness as when you had held his face only seconds before. You liked this, and secretly wished he’d act like this with you more. “Moon has been acting strange recently… He’s angrier, meaner… the kiddos don’t like him anymore… something is wrong with him”.

You weren’t sure how to initially respond to this. ‘So they have separate AI’s?’.

“Have you been to maintenance?”, you asked, and Sun nodded.

“I have, but apparently Moon is fine and dandy!”. Silence filled the room once again both of you not being sure what to say. “You can meet Moon. We’ve decided after some debate, BUT ON ONE CONDITION!”. The yelling once again made you jump. “You stay by the light switch and turn it on if you even suspect that Moon will do something bad!”.

Sundrop then held up his pinkie finger, signalling for you to pinkie-swear that you accept the condition and promise to abide by it. Nodding, you wrapped your pinkie around his before heading towards the light switch.

You had to admit, you were a little… scared? Perhaps nervous was a better choice of words. After listening to Sun, you feared what Moon would be like. Was he going to attack you? Because that’s what Sunny made it sound like he would do. Finally, you made it to the switch, your fingers hovering over the button as you turned to look back at the animatronic… your ray of sunshine. “Ready?”, you asked him.

Sun stood up straight, extending his body to his full hight. “Ready”, he breathed shakily.

And with that, the lights went out.

[rinkrats]

🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops. 

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid. 

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,”  says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.” 

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

[borhapparker]

tom with time traveling + musician au

thank you! this was a lot longer than i thought it would be but enjoy! been a while since i've written for tom so apologies in advance,t his is not technically a tom x reader, but it can be perceived as romantically. request here!

Tom wasn't known only for his singing, there was always more to him than meets the eye. To the millions of fans that went to his every show, and the ones that followed him on social media, they didn't know the true extent of his talent.

Performing alongside Y/n, there was always something different at every show, whether that be the car on stage (iconic 1983 Mustang GT from The Goonies, 1961 250 GT SWB California Spider from Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow, etc.) or the instruments they used (original Red Special electric guitar made by Brian May, 1980 Hohner Madcat that Prince first used, etc.) there was always something unique about each show the fans attended.

No one knew how they acquired the cars or guitars they had on stage, each very hard to come by and very expensive, some not available at all. Yet, they had a secret, something they had never disclosed to anyone about their skills.

Tom and Y/n could time travel.

This first started when they accidentally disappeared while talking about Live Aid in the 80's. Lounging on the couch, they had been watching videos of Freddie performing on stage, as they bopped their head to the beat, smiling and singing.

"I honestly wish we could've seen this performance", Y/n sighed as all of a sudden they blinked, the couch disappearing under them.

"Y/n?" she turned, her feet on concrete as she heard the roaring sounds of fans. Looking down at herself, she noticed her clothes were different, as she sported straight-leg jeans, platform daisy boots, a red t-shirt and a colorful windbreaker. She turned, spotting a mirror as she noticed herself with bright eyeshadow and teased hair. Definitely the 80's, but how?

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she turned, Tom sporting the same 80's style, as your eye caught something interesting behind him.

"Tom?" you asked as he tilted his head, your hands on his shoulders to turn him around.

"No.. way.." Tom gasped, as both of you locked eyes with the God himself.

Freddie Mercury.

"Hey darling," Roger Taylor, Queen's playboy drummer winked at you as the band headed to the stage.

The outfits, the scenery, the band.

Live Aid?

"Tom, are we in the 80's at Live Aid?"

Tom looked at you, his face a mix of shock and excitement, as he shook his head, not fully convincing himself.

"Can't be, that's impossible."

"But.. how do you explain this?"

Tom couldn't, as you guys became mesmerized in the performance, only exchanging smiles as you both sang along and danced by the side of the stage. At one point, you noticed Freddie coming to you, as you were brought on stage and given a guitar.

"Darling! What's your name?" Freddie asked as you smiled.

"Y/n!"

"Welcome! Do you know Crazy Little Thing Called Love?" you nodded as you began strumming the chords to the song you knew by heart, one that had been taught to you by Tom himself.

This thing, called love, i just, can't handle it

You smiled, Tom watching and cheering you on as you leaned on Brian and kept strumming, at one point heading to where John was standing to join him as he just smiled. It felt unreal, getting the chance to play with the band you had grown to love since childhood.

The question still loomed in your head as to how this had been possible. You had heard something about people gaining the ability to travel back in time, but you never thought that would become you and Tom.

For now, you enjoyed the scenery, taking in the performance you were part of with Queen, as Tom watched from the sidelines, sometimes jumping in to sing with Freddie if he was approached, but otherwise letting you have fun.

Before you knew it, the concert was over and you had grabbed some water to refresh yourself as Tom joined you, before realizing you two weren't alone. Turning around, you were met with the band, as they smiled and hugged both of you.

"Darling, what a performance. Thank you for joining us, Y/n." Freddie said with a smile as Roger smiled.

"You were amazing," he said as you thanked them.

"Thank you for the opportunity. Your shows never fail to amaze us."

Roger reached into his back pocket, taking his drum sticks out, before looking around and grabbing a spare sharpie from a table.

"Here, for the road." he had everyone sign the sticks before handing them over to you, as you smiled and embraced them one last time.

"We'll see you!" they said as they walked off, and you and Tom came back, no longer embraced in the warmth of the 80s and now back in the lounge room.

"The sticks!" Tom exclaimed as you looked down, noticing that you still had them with you.

"Amazing."

After that moment, you two realized little things could be taken with you from the past, and after realizing your mistake of being seen by millions of people, you made sure every time you were out of the spotlight. No one realized, but your manager when he finally caught the two of you coming back, this time with a 1967 Chevy Impala hardtop that had been featured in the TV Show "Supernatural".

"What the hell?" he exclaimed as you quickly proceeded to explain the situation as he started laughing.

"I was waiting for when you guys would harness your ability!" he smiled, as the two of you looked on, confused.

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't think this came genetically, did you?" you shook your head, still confused as he continued, "Look, we were supposed to tell you guys but we figured to let you guys try this out yourselves first. I noticed you guys fucked up when you accidentally appeared on stage with Queen themselves at Live Aid."

You gulped nervously as he chuckled. "Sorry. That was the first time."

"It's alright, happened to all of us. At least this makes things so much easier when we're planning your tour."

"About that," Tom picked up, "We have some ideas for each show."

Your manager sat down, as you started rattling off ideas, him nodding and agreeing before calling your stagehands, as they moved the Impala on stage for that night's show.

"What do we say if they ask how we got this?" Tom asked as Y/n shrugged, waiting for their manager's answer.

"Well, you just give credit to your stagehands and manager. Don't answer any more questions after that."

Nodding, you all grabbed your instruments, as you placed the drum sticks Roger had given you into your back pocket before you placed your headphones in and ran on stage with Tom. It was a blur of emotions, as everyone shrieked with happiness at seeing their favorite duo perform, this time with a very familiar-looking Impala beside them.

Boy, was this something to remember.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

dark!sirius. james is kidnapped. sirius intends to find him at any cost.

((Note: Warnings for blood and explicit torture))

To the unassuming outsider, Sirius Black, with his charming looks, mischievous eyes and kind smile, had escaped the infamous curse that is the Black Madness, the insanity that stemmed from generations of inbreeding and abuse.  

But James Potter knew better.

James had witnessed Sirius hex Lily Evans bald in second year because he once heard James call her hair beautiful.

James had realized that it was Sirius who came up with the cruellest, most vicious pranks against Slytherins and made the rest of the Marauders believe it was them who thought of the idea in the first place.  

James had seen the way Sirius skinned his knuckles raw as he kept on throwing punches at an unconscious Corban Yaxley until his face became a disfigured blob of blood and bone –who, as Sirius put it, disrespected Marlene McKinnon– all the while laughing uncontrollably.  

And, James had witnessed the way Sirius cried ugly tears to Remus, falling down on his knees, begging to be forgiven after sending Snape down the Whomping Willow. His face was so raw in piercing emotion, James had wanted to collect the boy in his arms and console him, just to leave the infirmary a minute later and watch the sadness disappear from his face like a mask being lowered, as a giggling Sirius fixed his hair, wiped the tears away from his cheeks and returned to his devil-may-care attitude.

(James would one day ask him how he didn’t feel any remorse.

“I heard Snivellus talking to a bunch of Slytherins about how weak and poorly and pathetic Remus was. He needed to be taught a lesson. No one gets away with saying something like that to anyone I love.” Sirius would shrug and turn back to his essay like it was regular chit chat.)

Sixteen years in the vulgar hands of Walburga Black had left Sirius with more demons than he showed, it increasingly terrified James and it wasn’t until he had crashed to the front porch of the Potter Manor one night, exhausted, bruised and battered, that James got the sour taste of losing him.

He never wanted to feel that again.

So, he did what he did best, what came to him the easiest.  

He loved Sirius.

Not despite his demons, but with them.

In return, Sirius loved him back. And, oh, what a blessing it was to be loved by him, to be the focus of his unwavering attention, to have his everlasting devotion.

And that’s how he knew Sirius would come for him, that he wouldn’t die in a place he didn’t recognise, arms and legs bound to a creaking, old, wooden chair, with various Death Eaters, he was unfortunate enough to recognize, torturing him.

Because Sirius Black loved him.

James, summoning the last bit of strength his aching body had left, raised his head, spit the blood pooled in his mouth to the ground, forced his swollen shut eyes open and gave Bellatrix LeStrange the most charming grin he could muster.  

“Is this the best you can do?”  

He fell unconscious.  

**********

On August 5th, 1983, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore defeated Voldemort after the initial discovery of the Horcruxes, curtesy of Regulus Black. A select team of Aurors were assigned to the task of finding and destroying them. The team consisted of Alastor Moody, Frank and Alice Longbottom, Sirius Black and James Potter. The last Horcrux, Tom Riddle’s Diary, was destroyed by James, through a secret mission known by only three people: James Potter, Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black. That bit of information was not shared with anyone else until the battle had already been won as the sensitive nature of the mission required total secrecy. The Horcrux was in Lucius Malfoy’s possession and James had sneaked into the Malfoy Manor to destroy it.

Within the next month, a vast majority of Death Eaters had been caught and sentenced to life in Azkaban.

The vast majority being the key phrase as the lack of evidence in their case combined with the prestige of their name made it impossible to form a solid case against the Malfoys, Igor Karkaroff had provided valuable information in exchange for his freedom, Regulus Black had been pardoned for his contribution for winning the war and Bellatrix LeStrange had vanished into thin air as with several others.

All those facts had brought them to the present, September 23rd, 1983, the day which James Potter had been kidnapped after several Aurors were sent to investigate the anonymous tip of a group of low-ranking Death Eaters frequenting a Wizarding District around Stratford.

The claims proved to be partially false as upon their arrival, the Aurors were severely outnumbered by a large group of Death Eaters, low and high ranking alike, including the Carrows, Bellatrix LeStrange and Antonin Dolohov.

Two Aurors were killed upon the initial contact and James was kidnapped.

As Sirius sat with James’ wand in hand, recovered by another Auror on the scene, he thought about the last conversation they had in that very room, in their house.

“I don’t like this, James.”

“Your cousin won’t be loitering in Stratford of all places, Sirius.”

“You don’t find it suspicious that we received a tip, anonymous and important enough to look into but not so much that we need a bigger team?” Sirius scoffed.

James’ stubborn expression softened as Sirius felt distaste being replaced with concern in his own eyes.

“I am not so keen, either, Padfoot. But we’re going as a five-person team, between us we can take at least a dozen Death Eaters and there is no way we will encounter more, we won, Pads. The war is over.”

“Why can’t I come with you, again?” Sirius wrapped his arms around James’ waist and pulled him close to rest their foreheads together.

“Because we’re the best at what we do and they don’t pair us together unless it’s absolutely necessary.” James snickered pressing a deep kiss to Sirius’ soft lips.

“You’ll come back to me?”

“I always do, love.”

“Sirius?” A familiar voice called from the living room.

“Moony?”

Remus entered and crossed the large room in three long strides with panic written across his face as he pulled Sirius into a tight hug.  

“Dumbledore told me the news. I came here as fast as I could, Pete is with Moody in the Order Headquarters at the Ministry, trying to find out what they know.”

Of course, the news had already reached Dumbledore even though it had barely been three hours since the ambush.

After Voldemort’s defeat, Remus had been amongst the appraised for their bravery in the war and Dumbledore had jumped into the opportunity to offer him the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts. Many had objected due to his lycanthropy but the support of the Order along with many high ranking Aurors and Dumbledore himself had made it possible. Remus had deserved good things coming his way and a teaching position at Hogwarts was not only a great beginning to overcome prejudices, it was also Remus’ lifelong dream. Sirius believed the academic staff could do without the addition of Severus Snape as the Potions Master, he still had doubts over his status as a double agent working for their side, but his efforts in trying to talk Dumbledore out of the idea had fallen on deaf ears.

As he pulled back to look at Remus’ face, scarred, scared and anxious, an idea shaped in Sirius’ mind.

“I’ll find him, Moony. I’ll bring him back to us.” Sirius patted the other man’s arms.

“Sirius, you have this look on your face.”

“What look?”

“The look you got before you accidentally set fire on the Slytherin table and got six students severely injured.” He explained.

“That wasn’t me, I didn’t even get detention for it.”

“Not because you didn’t do it, Padfoot, because they couldn’t catch you.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Rem.” Sirius reassured him, keeping his face as straight as possible. “Your office is connected to the Floo Network, right?”

“Why do you ask?” Remus furrowed his brows. They had been friends long enough for him to know Sirius was not in a state to be trusted.  

But they had also been friends long enough for Sirius to know just how to make them.  

“I need to talk to Dumbledore...” His voice insincere just enough to make Remus understand that was not a full sentence.  

“And?” Remus pressed.  

“...and I need you to find me a book from the Restricted Section in the library.” Sirius made a show of giving up after pondering for a moment.

“What do you need?”

“The Dark Magic Behind Tracking by Devon Duarte.”

“Sirius...” Remus sighed.

“As a last resort, Moony. If nothing goes right, I’ll use it as inspiration, nothing more.” Sirius quickly explained.

Remus squinted and scrunched his face in a manner Sirius had seen a million times, the look he always had when asked to do something he needed a moment of contemplation before caving in.

“Fine.” He resigned and made his way to the fireplace with Sirius following.

They each grabbed a handful of the Floo powder and within mere moments, arrived to their destination.

Sirius took in the sight that was Remus’ office. The windows allowed a nice amount of late afternoon light that illuminated the room beautifully. Walls and tiles of the room, much like the remainder of Hogwarts, were made of stone. To their left was the entrance of the room, with its arched, wooden door. Shelves on every wall were lined with books of various topics, ranging from Defence Against the Dark Arts class material to fictional novels by Muggle authors. A calendar with silver circles marking the full moon was hanging from a nail in an empty spot on the wall. Right behind a low coffee table, was a large, walnut office table with a few open books, empty and half written pieces of parchment, pots of ink and quills in a disarrayed order lying on the clean surface and a leather, comfortable looking armchair behind it. The office screamed of Remus Lupin in every way.

Their days in Hogwarts felt lifetimes away.  

Stepping out of the fireplace, Sirius faced Remus, standing two steps away and fidgeting with the hem of his wool jumper.  

“I will find Dumbledore, you find the book.” He instructed before turning on his heels and opening the door.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Remus called after him.  

“There are some things, I must do alone, Moony.”  

Making sure he wasn’t being followed, Sirius changed his direction and headed towards the dungeons. Passing through the shifting stairs and dimly lit corridors with quick steps, he found the door of the office that used to belong to Professor Slughorn but now was resided by a new Potions Master.  

He kicked the door open and met the dark and confused eyes of Severus Snape. Before the man in long, black robes was even given a chance to react, Sirius raised his wand.

“Expelliarmus!”

He closed the door.

**********

James slowly blinked his eyes open to the dark room. He felt the traces of magic that disturbed his unconscious stage across his chest. His eyes threatened to close again but the pain running across his limbs kept him awake. The heinous laugh he heard across the room made him raise his head slightly to meet the eyes of Bellatrix LeStrange.

“Good morning, Jamie!” She chirped, though from her mouth, it sounded more ghoulish than cheerful.

“Would be a better one if you let me go.”

“Tsk, can’t do that now, can we? I have a few friends who want to meet the man who brought our Lord’s doom.” She gestured to the door, her movements more uncontrolled than he had ever seen on her.

“You’re going to regret this, Bellatrix. Sirius will make sure of that.”

“Oh, my little cousin! I wonder where he is now. It does look like he’s taking his sweet time finding you!” A devilish grin appeared across her face, adding to the unhinged glint in her eyes.

“You are pathetic and I will personally watch it as the Dementors give you a sweet kiss!” James shouted with as much volume as he could manage spitting blood, and though it erased the slightly inhumane grin off her face it also added to the look of crazy her eyes carried.  

Bellatrix LeStrange did not like being talked back.

“Crucio!”

**********

“Salazar’s sake, Black! I told you, I told Dumbledore, I told the whole damn Order, I don’t know who the spy is!” Snape screamed in pain from the floor as another one of Sirius’ punches landed on his bloodied nose with a loud crunch.

With his heavy motorcycle boots, Sirius kicked him in the gut making the man grunt again. He dropped to his knees and grabbed a fist of Snape’s chin-length hair, twisting his neck in a painful angle, just

slightly more to the left and it would be broken. Sirius examined the damage he had done: broken nose, swollen eye, split lip and eyebrow, a nasty cut to the cheek and at the very least, three fractured ribs with a heavy chance of internal bleeding.

“Well, Severus,” he spat out the name like a slur and yanked at the fistful of hair, standing on his feet and dragging Snape across the floor, crashing his face forcefully to the wall, “you’re going to have to give me something to work with or we’re going to be here all day.”

“I can’t tell you what I don’t know!” Snape choked out. “You’re crazy! You’re actually fucking crazy.”

“Yes! Good-fucking-morning! I have been trying to tell you that and you never fucking listened. And let me tell you if I don’t find James, alive, safe and sound, I’m going to go a whole lot crazier!” Sirius kicked him in the stomach once again for good measure and pulled out his wand, pointing the tip to the man’s temple. “Name.”

“I don’t know!” Snape coughed. “We were never told his name; he was always just the Rat!”

Now wasn’t that fucking dandy.

Sirius dropped to one knee and balanced himself with his arm leaned against it as his wand pushed Snape’s chin up.  

“The Rat?”

“He was ratting you out. That’s why The Dark Lord named him that.”

A different idea shaped in Sirius’ mind.  

“Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?” He grabbed a fistful of Snape’s hair, smashing his head to the ground, knocking him out, and got back up on his feet, fixing his hair and brushing away imaginary dust from his jacket for a moment before leaving the room.

When he pushed open the door to Remus’ office, he found his friend pacing up and down the room, trying to release some of his pent-up restlessness. As Sirius closed the door behind himself, he heard Remus sigh with deep relief a moment before he caught sight of his bloodied knuckles and inhaled a sharp breath. Slowly exhaling, Remus’ eyes found Sirius’ as he searched for an explanation or an excuse. He found none.

“You didn’t talk to Dumbledore, did you?” He asked slowly.

“I don’t even know why you thought I would.” Sirius answered as he stepped into the chimney with a handful of Floo powder.  

“Do you even need the book?”

“Hold on to it, Moony. Just in case.”

“Si-”

“Please, Rem.”

Remus sighed in resignation.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement!” Sirius yelled without giving Remus a moment to reconsider, disappearing in a cloud of green flames.  

**********

During the war, the Order Headquarters’ location was kept safe and secret with the Fidelius Charm and regularly changed even though most meetings were organised privately and one-on-one. Ever since the end of the war, it had been transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters. Sirius found the decision purely political in nature. No actual, useful information was shared with the officials and most of the Order members still bore no trust for the Ministry.

Sirius stepped away from the chimney and took three steps towards the long, dimly lit corridor with offices of various divisions on both sides before he heard the distinct sound of the Floo from the chimney.

“Remus?”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Remus asked as he swatted Sirius on the side of his head.

“Ow! What in Merlin’s name?”

“James is my friend, you git. You think I’m going let you barge in here and take a man hostage on your own?”

“Remus,” Sirius breathed out, shaking his head, “you don’t want to do this.”

“Don’t tell me what I want or not, Sirius.” Remus snapped.

Sirius directed his piercing gaze at him, half expecting Remus give up, half knowing his friend wouldn’t.  

Remus stared back.

“Fine.” Sirius spat. “But if you want to come along, you’re going to have to trust me fully. Fully, Moony. If I point my wand at your dear mother...”

“Then my mother is the traitor.” Remus nodded with a hard, determined look on his face.

Sirius searched for a hint of hesitation in his friend’s voice and face but found none. With Remus by his side, he crossed the corridor in long strides before coming to a stop in front of an old, wooden door, whispering an Alohomora to the lock and revealing a cramped room with three walls lined with shelves carrying a variety of bottles of potions.

“Accio Veritaserum.”

A bottle, slightly smaller than his palm and filled to the brim with the green liquid, flew into Sirius’ hand. Gripping the bottle firmly, Sirius turned around and left the room with Remus following close behind.

“So, are you going to tell me who we are looking for?” Remus caught up to him and asked.  

“If I tell you, you’ll tell me I’m being unreasonable, if I wait until the last minute, you’ll have to help me.”

Remus sighed but prodded no more as they kept walking until they reached a door at the far end of the corridor. The office they used for official affairs the Order had with the Ministry.

“I’m asking one last time,” Sirius turned to Remus with one hand gripping the door handle firmly, “do you trust me to do the right thing?”

“Of course, I don’t.” Remus raised his brows, as if the answer was supposed to be obvious. “But I do trust you to find the spy. And at this moment, I’m willing to do what it takes.”

Sirius nodded once and opened the door.

The large room was fuller than Sirius had ever seen it to be. Various order members were standing around a circle table with maps, files of what appeared to be various Death Eaters and banned books on Dark Arts and tracking only the highest Ministry officials and the Order had access to scattered around. To their right, was an investigation board with known and free Death Eaters’ faces, their known meeting spots and the charms they might have used to keep their location hidden pinned to it.

“Black!” A familiar voice barked from the table.

“Moody.” Sirius saluted.

“You were ordered to keep away from the investigation.” Moody limped towards him. “You’re too close to the subject, you won’t be objective.”

Sirius barely heard those words and wandered his gaze through the closed space, looking for that one person he was going to make sure regret all is life decisions so far.

Bingo.

Peter Pettigrew was standing next to Marlene McKinnon, clutching his wand. His rat-like face barely turned towards Sirius and his eyes on the floor.

Sirius jumped towards him in a blink, pushing Moody out of the way and holding the short man by his bristled hair and throwing a solid punch. Sirius could feel himself shaking as raw anger shot through him, feeling the rage flooding his veins, he raised his hand to hit the man once again. He faintly heard the staggered screams around the room before his arm was gripped tightly, pulling him away from Peter. He turned abruptly to the person pulling him back and saw Moody reach for his wand.

“Expelliarmus!” Remus shouted, disarming Moody and loosening his grip on Sirius’ arm before pointing his wand to the various witches and wizards around the room, all reaching for their wands. “Sirius, you better start your explaining now!”

Sirius uncorked the Veritaserum vial, took hold of Peter’s face and forcefully opened his mouth, pouring the drink down the man’s throat while he tried to wriggle out of his death grip. After the vial was emptied, Sirius threw it to the floor, shattering and sending pieces of glass flying everywhere. He used his now free hand to pinch the terrified wizard’s nose and close his mouth, forcing him to swallow the potion out of breathlessness. Usually, a tenth of what Peter just ingested was enough for a man his size, twice that was torture, thrice that was hallucinations.  

Ten times the recommended amount was unheard of.

Sirius threw Peter to the floor and stepped on his knee, causing a sickening crunch as the bone snapped and the leg it was attached to fell flat on the floor, unable to move. Slowly registering the screams from both the man under his foot on the floor and the people around the room, he fell on one knee.

Peter was babbling nonsense words and sounds and his face was twitching uncontrollably. His body was stuck between man and rat, switching to his Animagus form and then back to human at breakneck speed, unable to keep a stable form.

“What the fuck are you doing, Black?” Moody screeched.

Ignoring him, Sirius pulled an empty chair and lifted Peter to be sat on top of it. Remus and himself were severely outnumbered by the remaining Order members, Sirius, as he drew his wand from its holster and pointed it to the rat’s eye, internally thanked his luck that everybody was too stunned to make a move.

“How long have you been spying on the Order?” He pressed the wand further into the eye socket as the room fell silent aside from Peter’s unintelligible cries.

“I won’t ask again, Pete. How long?”  

“3 years.” Peter screamed in between his drooling.

Sirius looked at Moody, who had an undecipherable expression written on his face, and winked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“And did you plan or knew of the plan to kidnap James today.”

“I- I- I can’t...” Peter stuttered.

Sirius pouted and pressed his wand forward, going through the eye in a nauseating squish, making Peter shriek so loud, his vocal cords might have snapped.

“Don’t make me ask a second time, Wormtail. Did you or did you not?”

“Yes! I did!”

“And where did they take him?”

“I don’t know!”

Sirius angled his wand, still inside the eye.

“They said home!” Peter thrashed. “Bellatrix said home! That’s all I know; I swear on Merlin!”

Sirius pulled his wand out of Peter’s eye, casting a silent Scourgify to cleanse his wand off of bodily tissues as Peter doubled down on himself, holding his bleeding, nearly ruptured from its socket, eye.

“I know where he is.”

**********

The first thing Sirius sensed as he materialised after the apparition, was the familiar smell. The musty, putrid and acrid smell of the unkempt Number 12, Grimmauld Place. The dust in the air or on the furniture was a new detail but Grimmauld Place really neither ever smelled like home nor did it feel like it. Dark magic surrounded the perimeter and it was frankly a surprise Sirius was able to apparate straight into the house, through the protective spells surrounding it. It’s a trap, every cell in his body screamed.

Grimmauld Place had been abandoned since the residents Walburga and Orion Black had passed away. During the war, it was kept under surveillance to assure it would remain empty but with the war over, restrictions lifted and measures eased, Grimmauld Place too had been taken out of the surveillance list. With the hope that he would never have to return, Sirius had left it to rot, not giving it second thought until Peter mentioned home. Grimmauld Place was never that for him but it was undoubtedly a home for Bellatrix.  

Swiftly turning his head side to side, Sirius took in the sight of the entrance and sensed no movement on the first floor. Closing his eyes and tipping his head back, Sirius tried to pry past the primary smells in the house. Some moments, Sirius was more dog than man and he’d recognise James’ smell anywhere –it was flowing from the third floor and the metallic odour of blood filled his lungs and ached his heart.

Sirius drew his wand, took a deep breath and stepped on the stairs.

The eerie squeaks of the unstable steps made it rather difficult for Sirius to hide his presence. Not that he had much hope in the first place. If not the stairs, they must have heard of the pop of his apparition and if not that, then the breached security measures must have notified them about the presence of an intruder.  

No, the element of surprise wasn’t on his side. A better man might have brought support or thought of a strategy before diving headfirst. Sirius, though, never claimed to be a better man. Every new person in the house or every other minute spent on a battle plan meant increased chances of James not making it out alive. And that was a scenario Sirius refused to be prepared for.

With his wand held out, Sirius reached the second floor. Balancing himself on his right foot and holding his breath, he listened intently for any commotion. His heightened senses, curtesy of a dog animagus, could pick up faint, barely-there noises much better than a regular human. Out of pure instinct, he launched himself across the corridor, barely dodging a green burst of light. Waving his wand to the direction of the light, he shot a hex without seeing the person it was aimed at and rolled on the floor to hide behind a wooden hall stand. The loud thud of a body hitting the floor prompted him to extend his neck out slightly and steal a glance. At the far end of the corridor, a masked Death Eater lied still.

One down. Merlin knows how many left.

Flinging his head back and hitting the concrete wall, Sirius took a deep breath, both trying to calm his nerves and trying to sniff out any nearby intruders. Before he was given a mere second to categorize the various smells of the Grimmauld Place, the sound of two heavy sets of footsteps came to Sirius’ ears from a room at the opposite end. He was hidden from sight from the far end of the corridor but that made his little hiding spot by the hall stand wholly visible from the direction of the footsteps. And by the sound of it, he had mere seconds to react. On the spur of the moment, Sirius jumped to his feet, grabbed a glass vase seated atop the hall stand a second before the other Death Eater came into the view.

“Catch!” He called out and threw the vase to the Death Eaters. As the cloaked and masked figures raised their wands to block what they highly assumed to be an attack, Sirius used the momentary distraction to raise his own wand and cast, “Stupefy!”

Sending one of the intruders flying and hitting the other, Sirius cast an incarcerous and effectively immobilised them both before knocking them unconscious with sequential hexes. Leaning against the wall to secure his back, Sirius listened carefully, finding no other movement on the floor.

On a better day, Sirius would have immediately grabbed the Death Eaters, ripped the cloaks and masks off their cowardly, traitorous faces and sent a patronus to a fellow order member. But, considering the facts that he had made it through the last few hours without completely going mad, uncovered the spy in the Order and found James, Moody could stand waiting fifteen more minutes.

With his nerves on fire, heart pounding out his chest and wand gripped so firmly his knuckles had turned white, Sirius stepped on the stairs for the third floor.

Bellatrix would be waiting for him. ********** “Do you hear the footsteps, Jimmy? Someone’s here to see you.” Bellatrix chattered with a singsong tone to her voice.

James wanted to snap back or scream or warn who he indubitably knew to be Sirius walking up the stairs as Bellatrix took two steps back into the shadows, effectively hiding from the perimeter visible from the door, but a makeshift gag of a tie was wrapped around his mouth for his tormentors’ joy and a silencio cast on him the moment Bellatrix felt something wrong.

The footsteps neared and James’ breath quickened, as he thrashed on the chair he was seated, through the sharp pain all over his body and he prayed to Merlin and every god he knew that Sirius wouldn’t throw caution to the wind when he saw James so obviously hurt. It’s been known to happen and result in Sirius occupying the bed next to James at St. Mungo’s on multiple occasions.

The door flied open and showed Sirius; wand raised and gripped with white knuckles in his front, hair a mess, jaw clenched and shoulders tight as his eyes roamed the room. The moment their eyes met, James shook his head, trying to get words across the silencing spell. But he was still a moment too late.

Sirius threw himself across the room in his conquest to get to James and failed to notice Bellatrix leave her post from behind the door.

“Won’t you say hi, cousin?” She screeched.

The quick, green burst of light that left her wand grazed Sirius’ side and collapsed him on his knees, holding the long slash wound with his wandless hand. Sirius rolled on the floor with a pained grunt and the second and third curses Bellatrix shot hit the now empty spot. With a quick flick of his wrist Sirius sent a hex her way, throwing her off rhythm and getting back up on his feet.

Sirius had always been the best duellist James knew. He was a sight to behold in the way he was made of magic and talent seeped out from under his skin. Watching Sirius duel had always been more like watching stage arts instead of a fight. There was a grace to his movements and elegance to his limbs. He could read people like a book and predict any opponent’s movements three steps ahead beating them without barely breaking a sweat.

What made this particular fight different than the others wasn’t a change in Sirius’ talents. It also wasn’t that he was trying to make his cousin aim away from James. It wasn’t even the injury he endured. If Sirius was crazy then Bellatrix was fucking unhinged and that made her unpredictable, made her dangerous. Combined with her magical dexterity and the tough condition Sirius was in, the duel was a challenge, a continuous stream of attacking and deflecting and moving about the room with quick feet.

Deflecting another spell from an increasingly exhausted Sirius, Bellatrix sent another curse and hit him on the shoulder, loosening the grip on his wand. James held his breath as Sirius’ movements slowed down visibly.

“Getting tired little cousin?” Bellatrix taunted.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Sirius gritted his teeth.

“Your little blood-traitor boyfriend and I were having so much fun earlier. Cruciatus makes him scream so prettily. Isn’t that right, Jamie?”

“Take his name out of your mouth, Bella.”

Bellatrix burst into a guttural laughter but kept her pace of curse after curse.

With a sudden shift, Sirius moved quickly on his feet, switching sides with Bellatrix and turning his back to the door and side to James. With the arm not holding the wand Sirius pointed the palm of his shaky hand towards James. For a confusing moment, James tried to read into the meaning of the move before feeling something snap in him as his voice returned and the bindings around his wrists, ankles and torso went slack. As James took a deep breath, he noticed that the gesture had distracted Sirius, earning him a nasty slash through the side of the neck.

Sirius was giving him a way out.

He had undone the spell binding him, secured a clear path to the door and got himself injured to keep Bellatrix too busy to notice James getting untied.

Sirius was fighting a losing battle to save James.

With a moment of solid determination James overestimated the strength he had left in his body and quickly tried to jump up to his feet, just to drop down on his knees with a loud thud. Ignoring the ringing in his ears that felt like a drill through his skull, he raised his hands, practically trembling with adrenaline and magic and eyed the way Sirius’ complexion paled even beyond his usual state, letting himself get backed into a corner by Bellatrix. Sirius threw pleading glances at James with glassy eyes, wordlessly begging to take the opportunity and leave.

Bellatrix raised her wand as Sirius dropped his own, “Avad-”

James near felt his heart stop as he screamed something pained and wild and let himself fall unconscious as magic burst out of his body in uncontrolled waves of destruction, with the last sound reaching his ears the explosion of wood and glass. **********

James felt the stiffness of his body and smelled the sterile hospital room and Sirius’ scent –sandalwood, vanilla and smoke – before he slowly blinked his eyes open to see them.

The taller man was sprawled out on his side next to him on the bed with an arm draped over James’ stomach, his hair a beautiful mess on the pillow. Sirius’ eyelashes fluttered open, revealing storm grey eyes as James slowly ran his fingers through the man’s chiselled cheekbones.

“Morning.” Sirius smiled, his voice hoarse from the sleep.

“Morning.” James smiled back. “My muscles hurt more than that one time I wrestled a giant while drunk.”

“Well, love,” Sirius kissed the tip of James’ nose, “that tends to happen when you get tortured for hours then blast an entire quarter of a house with pure explosive magic.”

“Sounds impressive.”

“It was.”

“You should probably kiss me. You know, with how impressed you are and whatnot.”

Sirius chuckled and leaned forward to give James a sweet, lingering kiss that made James wish they didn’t need to breath, just so he could kiss Sirius like that forever.

“Sleep, James.” Sirius pulled back and ordered with an adoring look in his eyes. “I’m going to give you a talking-to about putting yourself in dangerous situations, so I need you in top shape.”

James smiled innocently and closed his eyes as Sirius pulled him close and kissed the top of his head, it wasn’t long before they drifted off to a content sleep with arms wrapped around each other.

[whaleofatjme1920]

hello!!

i’m sorry this ask may be a bit repetitive with the ones others have put in but you have become unofficially the official cp dad author because dilfs ig but could you please do one similar to the masky with a proxy kid but with hoodie?

PLEASE TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF FIRST I HOPE YOU FEEL BETTER SOON <33

Booth Seats of Restaurants

[Hoodie X F!Reader]

[Warnings: like, none really?]

[AN: Wonderful title to have, all the men I like are dilfs, especially hoodie--. I hope this does right by your ask!]

Brian looks at you across the table and has no expression other than emptiness. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, far from it really, he’s just… He’s never even met you until now.

“What should I even call you?” You ask, brows furrowed as you continue stacking the creamers in accordance to color and flavor as the two of you wait for your breakfast at midnight.

“Whatever you want,” he replies, hazel eyes still dark and cloudy.

He never wanted you to meet him this way, never wanted you to see him. When he left, it was to keep you and your mother safe.

A pregnant pause falls over the two of you.

He wants to apologize to you. When you were young, like, really, really young, he used to be in your life. He was there when your mother brought you into the world, there for your first birthday, and your second, but when you turned three, your father had disappeared entirely.

It kept your mother up most nights. She loved this man like the moon loved the tides and he left her. Left her for a plethora of reasons, but the main one being to keep you safe.

“I know… I know this isn’t the most ideal situation,” Brian began as his gloved hands toyed absentmindedly with his coffee cup still full of the simmering dark liquid. It smelled faintly of chocolate. “But, this is unfortunately the hand life has dealt you.”

You narrow your eyes slightly as you pause stacking the creamers. “That’s all you have to say?” You scoff. “You may be my father, but you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

Brian hums in acknowledgement, his eyes relaxed but body tensed. He knows you’re mad at him, and at your mother. She left you prematurely, much like he did. Pneumonia, and she couldn’t fight it off. She’s gone now, and all that’s left in your corner is him.

“Afraid so,” Brian finally replies after the food finally gets delivered to the table during a tense moment between the two of you.

You look at the man sitting across from you and internally scoff once more. You’d only met him a few hours ago and you’re already sick of him. After your mother succumbed to her sickness, he appeared on your doorstep, tired, and looking like hell. There was a certain sadness in his eyes he couldn’t quite name, and it stemmed from something deeper that you didn’t understand.

You absentmindedly poke at your food before finally getting a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth, craving something other than bitterness. “What’s gonna happen with me?” You finally say after swallowing your food. “Are you gonna just leave me to the system?”

Brian shakes his head. “That’d be stupid,” he says. “You’re what, sixteen? What’s the point of throwing you in there,” he states as he begins to finally cut into his own food as well. He doesn’t look thrilled to be eating it though. He brings the fork up to his lips and then places it back down. “You know what a proxy is?”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t.”

He sighs deeply. “A proxy is someone who does work for someone else, like a servant.” The way those words roll off his tongue make him cringe slightly, and it is not lost on you. “That’s what you’re gonna be. A proxy.”

“To who?”

“A tall faceless guy known as the Slender Man to everyone else, and the Operator to us.”

“What?”

“You’re meeting him tomorrow, he’s your new boss.”

“My new boss - what about-”

“Nothing else matters now but him,” Brian ends, his eyes still exhausted. It looks like he’s uncomfortable with the very notion of you being involved in this life.

Another pause falls between the two of you.

You continue to pick at your food.

“Has your mother… Has she ever mentioned anything about this?” He inquires, gesturing to himself and you assume whatever weird things he’s a part of.

You shake your head slowly, again. “She was always really quiet about you after you abandoned us,” you spit slightly.

Brian chuckles and closes his eyes. “I never wanted to leave you,” he admits. “Loved you both so much that I knew I had to leave.”

You narrow your eyes once more and bite into your food even harder, frustrated with your father’s words. “So you just up and left?”

“It was to keep you safe,” he says, his head briefly turning over to the car in the parking lot. “From those idiots,”

Your eyes follow his and you see three people in a car, and you see them. Three people, two of them asleep and one of them attempting to nod off.

“From me,” he gestures to himself, bringing your attention back to him. “And from the life you’ll soon be angled up in.” He rested his head on his hands, his eyes closing in exhaustion once more. “It’s worse than you could ever imagine.”

For some reason, those are the words that make tears well in your eyes. Your whole life you dreamed that reuniting with your father would be something almost magickal, something to behold. You dreamed that he’d take you into his arms and that he’d love you endlessly, like your mother did. But here, you’re faced with an almost apathetic man, a man who’s afraid to love and to feel.

And you cry. The tears come pouring out of your eyes so fast that you don’t even realize they’re cascading down your cheeks. Your face feels hot and you find that you can’t focus on anything but your food even though the tears are drenching you. You cry so much and hone in so deeply that you don’t even realize your father has slid out of his seat and next to you, his arms wrapping protectively around you.

“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he rocks you in his arms, his gloved hands gently relieving your much smaller ones of your fork and knife.

You sob quietly and turn, snaking your arms around his waist and finally taking in his scent. He smells like home.

His arms continue to cradle you, and you realize he’s moving you the same way he did when you were a baby. He feels soft, gentle, and almost loving.

You hold your father tighter.

He doesn’t let go.

[winderlylandchime]

Made-up fic title: and then there were three

From: Send me a made-up fic title and I’ll tell you what I would write to go with it (except I got carried away and wrote a ficlet)

And Then There Were Three

Fandom: Queer As Folk

Pairing: Brian/Justin

Rating: T

Words: 727

Warnings for: referenced/implied child abuse; referenced implied sexual abuse

Canon compliant, set at 1 x 22

Brian Kinney has never had a mother.

Joan Kinney gave birth to him but no one could call what she did “mothering.” Yes, she fed him, kept him clothed and sheltered, and maybe, as a baby, provided him some affection. Maybe. But no one could call what Joan Kinney did “mothering.”

Mothers mirror their baby’s emotions and teach them how to understand those big confusing feelings. When their child cries, mothers soothe and comfort. Mothers teach that it may all hurt and feel rotten now, but it will be okay. Mother has you.

Mothers provide a secure base from which to explore the world. The world is exciting and big and scary. Mother is here and you can always come home.

Mothers protect their children from the dangers of the world. Where was Joan when Jack Kinney laid his hands on Brian the first time? Where was Joan when Jack laid his hands on Brian the fifth time? Where was Joan when Brian finally lost count of how many times his father had hit him?

Where was Joan when his coach made him suck him off in the showers after practice? Where was Joan before that, teaching him that’s not love, that’s not healthy, that’s abuse?

Oh, there are mothers in Brian’s life now. They’re surrounding him as he sits, head bowed, face covered in tears-streaked blood, scent of death and ammonia in his nose.

There is Debbie, loud and brash, who came into his life just a few years too late. There is Jennifer and there is Lindsay. There is even Mikey, a sort of mother to him too. All too late.

Is it any wonder Brian is so hedonistic? That he seeks the momentary pleasures of sex and drugs to fill a mother-shaped-hole. That from instability comes a belief that all that matters is this moment. Is it any wonder that Brian believes that actions speak louder than words?

And there is Justin, the one mother who may have arrived on time. On the night he becomes a father, he meets the person who shows him through actions that match words, mirrors his emotions when he is struggling, who loves him as he is and who expects him to rise to be the man Justin believes he can be, who has become a home.

And who is now confirming all of Brian’s worst fears, that maybe it is not only that Brian is unloveable, but that his love is the thing that ruins.

Brian loved Joan when he was a child, of course he did. And he yearned for her love. And, with child-like logic, he concluded that he must be hard to love. He concluded he must have ruined the love between his parents. He had no one to tell him, “it’s not your fault.”

It took twenty-nine years, a sperm deposit, a turkey baster, and nine months, and a halo of blonde under a streetlamp to learn that even when planning otherwise, love happens. With his own child, it was instant. No decision to be made. And endless supply of love, trickling into and beginning to fill that mother-shaped-hole.

With the halo of blonde under the streetlamp, it was more gradual, but like crocuses in spring, small tendrils of hope started to poke their way through. And Brian Kinney began to think that not only could he love but perhaps be loved in return. Perhaps he could have this.

Justin had taught him to love as a mother teaches her child how to love.

And so he donned a tux, slipped a silk scarf around his neck, and went to show the world. He went to show Justin those three words. He went to show Justin he believed him when he said those three words.

An ache in his chest reminds him to be ashamed. Ashamed that, because of him, that blonde halo from under the streetlamp might not survive.

Ashamed that he wants his mother, wants to be pulled into an embrace, tears brushed away, and told it will all be okay. And the only person who would, who can, who has done that…

No, Brian Kinney has never had a mother.

(He thought he did, for a moment.)

Brian Kinney has never had a mother but for three days he longs for

his and for the three words he’s never felt.