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lennonmccartneystuff · 4 years ago

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I Was There For You in Your Darkest Times

Summary: Cool and confident 16 year old John Lennon meets a shy and broken Paul McCartney, 15, still reeling from his mother's death. When John loses his mother a year later Paul helps him through it.

Pairing: John x Paul (platonic)

Warnings: like one curse word

Author's note: I'm so excited this is my first fanfiction! Overarching note for all of my works...I don't own the Beatles haha

John Lennon rushed down the hallway on his way to class at Quarry Bank High School. He bumped into a boy slowly crossing the corner. He knew he recognized the kid, it was Paul McCartney. Something about Paul always confused him; he got a vibe from him like something was wrong but he couldn't figure out what. People made fun of him a lot and John didn't really engage with them because something about Paul made him feel like he didn't need more problems.

They collided and Paul fumbled to pick up his books trying to spit out an apology but just sounding muffled and anxious.

"I- sorry I didn't um, I didn't mean to"

"No worries man, my fault." John said while handing him his books and looking at Paul for a moment, trying to read him.

The boys went their separate ways heading to their own classes but John couldn't get Paul out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

"Had Paul always been so nervous and quiet?" He thought to himself on the way home. Granted, he didn't know Paul personally but he had seen him around the last few years and something had definitely changed about him as of late.

John sat at home fiddling with his guitar and writing the first few verses to a song about a mystery boy (obviously influenced by his curiosity about Paul's story). He always turned to music when he couldn't get something off his mind. Sure, it wasn't necessarily a quick fix but it helped.

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For the next couple of days John just kept watching Paul. Not to be like a stalker or anything but he wanted to kinda know if he was ok. Problem is you don't just approach someone you've spoken to like twice to ask if they're going through something so he was at a loss.

Anyway, John had a free period so he headed down to the auditorium following a brief stop at his locker to get his guitar. He always went there there to practice in peace since it was empty during fifth period.

When he turned the corner he could swear he heard a voice but couldn't figure out who it was. He peered into the room and saw Paul McCartney huddled on the floor clearly trying not to cry.

"Hey man, are you ok?"

*sniff* "I'm fine, just leave me alone."

"I'm not going to tell anyone about this so if you want to tell me what's wrong, you can."

"I- um... today's a year since my mom passed away."

"Paul. I-I'm so sorry."

"Breast cancer"

"I had no idea"

"Is that a guitar?" Paul looked over to John's hand.

"Yeah! Do you play?"

"Yes! And bass too, that's my favorite."

"no way that's sick. We should play some time. Come by after school?"

"Yeah! I'm down, that sounds fun."

The bell rang and the boys went their separate ways; John with a new understanding of what Paul was going through and Paul happy that someone wanted to talk to him about something other than how he had been coping for the last year.

At the end of the day John and Paul made eye contact and headed to their own houses aknowledging that they were going to get together later.

Later they hung out at John's house playing around different musical snippets. John, with a little hesitation at the thought of bringing of bringing up mothers, answered Paul's question saying that it was his mom that got him into music and bought him his first guitar

"That's awesome! Does your dad play?"

"Well I uh, don't know my dad so I couldn't tell you." John chuckled nervously.

"Oh I'm sorry."

"Nah it's no big deal, he's a piece of shit anyway. My mom's the great one, I wish I saw her more often."

"Why don't you? If you don't mind me asking."

"She's actually not that far. It's just that she's with this guy and my Aunt Mimi wouldn't let me live with them cause it was too cramped or whatever, so here I am. We still talk often though"

"that's good" Paul said wistfully.

"Oh sorry, we can change the subject"

Paul nodded.

The rest of the night went on and Paul left a couple of hours later to go home.

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For the next few weeks John and Paul hung out at each other's houses almost every day after school just to play guitar and do homework and stuff. John noticed a change in Paul's disposition, he was still really hurt over his mom and that wasn't going to go away, but he seemed even close to happy for the first time since he lost her. Apparently Jim McCartney noticed it too because one night he pulled John aside before the two boys went up to practice and thanked him for being there for Paul. Of course John wasn't doing it for thanks, he really like hanging out with Paul, but he was glad it was doing something good.

One night at John's house Paul quietly brought up that he had been working on writing some original music.

"I um, wrote some lyrics this past week. I don't know if you want to hear them. Maybe you can help me come up with the riff for transition from verse to chorus."

"Yeah of course, let me here 'em"

"Well, I woke up late this morning my head was in a whirl only then I realized I lost my little girl oh, oh, oh, oh. Well, her clothes were not expensive her hair didn't always curl I don't know why I love her but I love my little girl oh, oh, oh, oh."

"And then I think the chorus is going to be: Well, gather 'round people let me tell you the story the very first song I wrote. But I don't know if that sounds stupid or where to go from there and I need help with that transition."

"Wow- the uh, the lyrics are beautiful, Paul."

"Thanks. Any advice for those parts?"

"C to Am?"

"let's give that a shot."

John and Paul were constantly with each other at school, always hanging out at home too and never far from a guitar. They quickly grew to be very good friends and Paul hung out with John's other friends in the group.

The school year was winding down. John and Paul lived pretty close to each other so they planned on basically spending the whole summer playing music together with the rest of the guys. On the last day of school they said goodbye but of course they weren't apart for long. For the entire month of June Paul was either with John and his other friends or with George.

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The middle of July rolled around and suddenly Paul didn't really hear from John and he couldn't figure out what was up. They didn't have a fight and it seemed that none of the other guys had talked to him either.

After a few days of not wanting to smother John during whatever was going on Paul had to check on him so he went to his house to at least see if Mimi could tell him anything.

"Hey is John around?"

Mimi stood in the doorway with tears in her eyes, it looked like she had been crying for days

"Is everything ok?"

"Let me see if he'll come talk to you."

"John? Paul's downstairs. You should really talk to him if you're ready, he's worried."

"I'm coming. I'm going to tell him."

John walks down the stairs into the living room where Paul is waiting near the doorway.

"Hey John. Are you ok?"

"Let's take a walk, I need to talk to you."

"Is everything alright?"

They walked for a moment and John readied himself to say what he was about to say. Paul was the first person he told and he was trying to prepare himself even though no amount of waiting would make this any easier.

"My uh, my mom was killed a couple of days ago, died in a car crash." John said, barely above a whisper.

Paul froze. He didn't have specific proof that they were in this part of their friendship yet but he had to go with his gut. He leaned in and gave John a hug and they just stood there for a moment.

When they pulled away Paul took a look at John while he wiped his eyes. He had never seen him like this before. John was strong and nothing ever really got to him but he had never looked so broken. Paul remembered that feeling unfortunately and while his mom passed away under different circumstances he still knew all too well the pain of losing someone so important so young.

John was never one for showing his emotions, even to his best friend. Though if he had to cry in front of someone it wouldn't have been anyone else.

Paul tried his hardest to keep John out of the really dark place he found himself in last year before they met. The trauma that comes from losing a parent so young will never be erased and there was nothing anyone could do to make that better but Paul's priority was keeping his best friend from being consumed by this. He knew what it was like to lose yourself and he wasn't going to let that happen to John.

Eventually John told the rest of his friends what had happened, with Paul by his side for moral support, but he didn't really hang out much the rest of the summer. The only person he ever really saw was Paul because he wouldn't leave him alone for too long. John wasn't the best with words so he didn't know how to say it, but he didn't know what he would've done without Paul that summer.

"Are you ready?" Paul asked as he turned to John before looking at the big doors to Quarry Bank High School.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The two made their way into school with a new closeness between them, an understanding of what it's like to experience living hell and survive it.

That shared experience was part of what brought John to immediately include Paul in the lineup for The Quarrymen, a group initially consisting of John, Pete, Eric, Colin, Rod, and Len. The group evolved a year later when, at Paul's request, George was added.

This gave John and Paul something to distract themselves with and direct their attention to instead of how much they missed their moms. The Quarrymen performed at dances, school events, etc. When they moved in the direction of rock and roll, only John, Paul, and George remained.

If it wasn't for John and Paul meeting and helping each other through the hard times it would've been so much harder to get to the good ones.

#beatles fanfiction #lennon mccartney #the beatles #fanfiction #mclennon #beatles oneshot #platonic fanfic #the quarrymen #george harrison #john lennon #paul mccartney

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madpanda75 · 4 years ago

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“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap.

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian.

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red.

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed. Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?”

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!”

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?”

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle.

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again.

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?”

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained.

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

“It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?”

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

“I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?”

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.”

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time. “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?”

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms.

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response.

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass.

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein.

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet.

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth.

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on.

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek.

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough.

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him.

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him.

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down.

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go.

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another.

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected.

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased.

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny.

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

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phoenixhalliwell · 4 years ago

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Well Helloooo Nurse

Pairings: Will Miller X Gender Neutral Reader ( Nurse Lark but goes by the name of Birdie)

Word count: 1887

Author's Note: Good Evening all, welcome to the Will Miller show. Please be gentle as it’s my first time writing for him. I also have no idea how the inside of an ER works, i’m just winging this whole thing lmao I hope whoever stumbles on this enjoys it :)

Hope you don’t mind the tags: @lilacyennefer @cinewhore @dignityneeded

Thanks to his idiotic brother, Will ends up in the ER. Benny in an attempt to make amends, tries to be his wingman.

Throwing yourself down into your chair, you let out a small cry at the relief at finally being off your feet. To say it's been a long week is an understatement. Your back is in agony, your stomach won't stop growling and there's a throbbing pain behind your eyes . The ER has finally quietened down after a disastrous morning and you're counting down the minutes until it's home time.

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock. Another 20 minutes and you are free for the next two days to do absolutely nothing. Closing your eyes you smile at the thought of the large glass of wine, warm bath and take out that awaits you when you get home. Your happiness is short lived though when you hear your name being called out.

'Urghhh, just leave me alone'

"Birdie, my good friend. How are you? You are looking fiiinnneee today, is that a new pair of scrubs."

Opening your eyes, you glare at your friend Letti who is currently batting her eyes at you. You scoff. You know for a fact you look like shit. Your hair looks like a bird's nest ( no pun intended) and you're pretty sure that your scrubs have seen better days.

"What do you want?" you narrow your eyes at her.

"You know how you're my absolute best friend and you love me so much? Could you find it in that golden heart of yours to stay on just a little longer and cover the end of my shift. It's only a couple extra hours. I wouldn't normally ask but Scott has managed to ship the kids off to his mum's tonight and it's been so long since we've had adult time, if you catch my drift. Please. Help me out here Birdie I am dying" She begs.

'Pfft least you're getting the option for adult time' you think to yourself. You watch as she clasps her hands to her chest and starts to give you the sad puppy dog eyes .You can feel your resolve start to crumble. Groaning, you throw your head back in defeat.

"Fine, but you owe me one and you better believe I will collect" you sigh. Letti fist pumps the air before grabbing your face and giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

"I fucking love you Birdie. I will name my next child in your honour" she promises.

"Yeah like I haven't heard that before" you snort, wiping your cheek. Letti suddenly thrusts a clipboard into your hand before rushing you through your next patient, eager to get home to her husband. You're not really listening to her, nodding along every so often as you try to decipher the chicken scratches on the paper in front of you.

' Did a child fill in this form?'

You hear snippets of what she is saying: "Hotter than sin..... If I wasn't married... wouldn't be able to walk straight"

You are finally able to pick out the important information:

Exam Room 3 - William Miller, 40, laceration to left arm.

'Ok I can work with that'

Calling out your goodbyes to Letti and telling her to have a good time, you make your way to exam room 3 to get started. Drawing back the curtain, you step into the room and call out

'Mr Miller?'

"Yes?" two voices answer at the same time.

" They are talking about me Dumbass, I'm the one that's currently bleeding no thanks to you. Please excuse my brother, he was dropped on his head a lot as a child" your patient apologises to you. You let out a snort at the quip. It's not until you get a proper look at his face that your laughter is quickly cut off.

'Oh' is all you can think before your mind goes blank. Sitting in front of you is a man you can only describe as an Adonis. Even though his face is twisted slightly in pain, you would gladly stare at him for the rest of eternity. Beautiful blue eyes, soft blond hair, a well groomed beard. Your mind takes you to some bad places when you think about that beard.

'Hotter than sin indeed...."

A choked out laugh causes you to tear gaze away from William and over to the other man in the room who waves at you looking far too amused.

'Oh god, he knows I was checking out his brother' You cringe internally.

"Hi I'm Benny in case you were interested" the other man jokes. He is also a fairly attractive man -you can see some similarities between the two. However, Benny has nothing on his brother. You shyly nod your head in greeting before making your way to Will's bedside.

"Ok Mr Miller, I am Nurse Lark. From what I could make out from your form, it says that you have a laceration on your left arm. Is this correct?" you ask the older Miller.

"Yes that's right. Sorry about the scrawl, Benny didn't make it past the 3rd grade." Will teases.

"Fuck you dickhead" Benny hisses back.

"Boys, settle down, this is an ER not a playground " you interject. Both men mumble their apologise and you try not to laugh. Gently picking up Will's arm, you turn his arm left to right to get an idea of the extent of his injury. He's lucky in the fact it's not too deep. Unfortunately it cuts directly through the tattoo on his lower arm. Potentially a future scar but that was out with your control. Raising your head, you notice how close you are to each other's faces. Will stares back at you and you lose yourself for a minute.

"For fuck sake, get a room" You hear Benny mutter behind you. You cough and busy yourself getting the equipment you need to start patching Will up.

"I'm sorry but this might hurt a little" you warn him in advance.

" Don't worry about me, I'm tough as nails " He smiles reassuring you.

You nod before getting started. So focused on your work, you didn't notice Will admiring you from where he sat. He liked the way your eyes never wavered from your task despite Benny blabbering on in the background. How your nimble fingers made quick work of his wound. He thought the way you stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration was the cutest thing.

Benny was quick to notice his brother's heart eyes and started snickering.

" You know what Will? Maybe if you're a good boy the nice nurse will kiss it better once they are done"

You glance up in time to see Will's face turn scarlet.

'Just when I thought he couldn't get any cuter'

"That's it, Benny get out now!" Will growled.

Benny sighs dramatically and sulks out the room but not without muttering "just trying to help you get laid dickhead". You glance back at Will who is now staring up at the ceiling, looking as though he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"It's days like these I really wish my parents had got me a puppy instead of a little brother"

"Well from what I've seen of him so far, the man is basically a gold retriever in human form" you joke back. The laugh he lets out catches you off guard.

'I could get used to that sound.'

You had to stop yourself from sighing and scolded yourself for acting like a love sick fool instead of the professional you are.

The conversation came easy for you both after that. You started by telling him your name before the both of you shared little tidbits about each other. Will seemed like an interesting man from what information he gave. He was funny and incredibly smart.

'He's perfect' is all you could think. However, it didn't take long after Benny got asked to leave to finish patching the rest of Will's arm up.

"Well Mr Miller, I guess that's you done. Please make sure to keep the area as clean as possible and have someone help you change your bandages"

You feel sad at the idea of him leaving. It is evident that he feels the same by the way he stalls collecting his things. He looks like he's debating with himself before he finally turns to you looking determined.

" Would you maybe like to go to dinner with me sometime? I know we haven't met under the best circumstances but I had a really great time talking with you. I'd end up hating myself if I didn't at least ask"

Your heart races at the question and you don't hesitate to tell him yes. His face lights up and you find yourself falling a little more for Will Miller. Grabbing a pen from your top pocket, you hastily write down your phone number and hand it to Will. You both wish each other goodnight before parting ways. You find yourself grinning and bite your lip to try and contain your glee.

" Guess I will be naming my first child Letti"

Outside the hospital

Benny leans against the wall (pouting like a child) and waits for his brother . He still can't believe he got thrown out of the room. It feels like forever and a day before Will finally makes his appearance with a smug grin on his face.

'He looks like the cat that got the cream'

' What's with the grin man? Did they give you the good shit for the pain or something?"

Will shakes his head before showing Benny the piece of paper in his hand. A set of digits.

"William, you sly dog" Benny laughs in delight before he slaps Will's arm. He's quick to realise his mistake when his brother grunts in pain clutching his bad arm. Benny panics and makes to touch him but is stopped in his tracks.

"Don't . Fucking . Touch me. Just get in the fucking car. " Will hisses. He marches off to the car park, swearing under his breath.

'Well that victory was short lived' Benny thinks, following his brother.

Bonus Scene - Date night

'Is it just me or is time moving slower?'

You glance at the clock for what feels like the millionth time. Another 10 minutes before Will is suppose to arrive. It's been so long since you were last on a date and you can't remember being this nervous. You look down at your outfit and run a hand over it to make sure there wasn't any creases. Will had text earlier to let you know to dress casual for your evening out but wouldn't give you any more information. The sound of the doorbell interrupts your thoughts and you let out a nervous giggle. Trying not to seem too eager, you give yourself a beat before opening the door. You feel yourself go weak in the knees. Will is dressed to impress - A black leather jacket over a soft grey t-shirt with a nice pair of black jeans that does wonders for him. He lets out a soft laugh at the way you are blatantly eyeing him up before doing the same to you. He lets out a low whistle.

"Well hellooo nurse"

#Will Miller #william ironhead miller #will miller x reader #Triple Frontier #Benny Miller #ben miller #william ironhead miller x reader #hello nurse

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wannawritefast · 4 years ago

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Whiplash: Ch. 4- Pretending

A/N: Hey guys! Thanks for all the love on the last part! I totally didnt realize there was no title or link to the previous part. I distinctly remember doing that... maybe Tumblr had a goof... Just a heads up that a fixed it and all that jazz.

Pt. 3

Pairing: Gwilym Lee! Brian Lee x Reader

Donna left the end of that weekend grateful to have spent time with her sister. And you felt equally as grateful to have gotten some bonding time before the holidays rolled around.

You and Brian continued your charade until before long it was time to leave for your family’s house. There was a plethora of Christmases where you didn’t want to go back home for the holidays or even want to celebrate the ‘happiest time of the year’ at all. But this Christmas… this one took the fruitcake.

The night before you left you didn’t get a wink of sleep. You often chalked it up to the fact that your cat was not present (having been put in a kennel earlier that day) and the subsequent lack of him in your bed. But you knew deep down that it was because, this time, you would be coming home with a boyfriend. A fake one.

That seemed to scare you more than you thought it should. If they didn’t believe you or if they found out, you would NEVER be able to live it down. And then there was Brian.

He was too kind and sweet and caring and goofy to you. He treated you better than you deserved. Sometimes you didn’t think it was real. Brian was your best friend and you knew that you could always depend on him. If anything ever happened to jeopardize that, you didn’t know what you’d do.

The two of you left in the mid-morning on the 21st, Brian picking you up and getting breakfast along the way. It took a few hours but you got to your parents’ house by mid-afternoon. Even though you jammed to cassettes the whole way there, your nerves still wracked your body.

7 days at your parents’ house in the English country and 7 days at his. Two weeks. You could do two weeks.

Finally the two of you arrived at your family’s big country house, pulling up in front of the large property. Brian put the car in park and turned off the engine. He reached to unbuckle his seatbelt in the now silent car but you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Brian, we don’t have to do this,” you looked him right in the eye.

He coughed out a chuckle. “What?”

“We can turn around right now. I can just say I got sick,” you reached to turn the ignition but he shooed your hands away.

“We’ve come this far and you want to turn around?” Brian questioned. You nodded emphatically. “Oh, come on now. I’m ready and you’re ready.”

“No, Brian,” you let out a panicked breath. This was such a bad idea. You should have just been honest with them from the beginning. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We’re basically at the front door,” he turned in his seat. “We can’t go back now.”

“Watch me,” you reached for the ignition again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Brian grabbed your hand and held it. “We’re here. It’s going to be alright.”

You looked out the windows nervously for any sign that your parents or siblings had seen you arrive. “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m not.” Brian fiddled with your fingers and kissed the back of your hand, stirring up butterflies again. “But there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that, he unbuckled his seatbelt, opened his car door and went straight to the trunk, making sure that his keys were in his pocket. You jumped out after him. He was smart. Leaving the vehicle before you could object further…

He opened the latch and was beginning to take out the luggage. “Brian, I mean it. We can still leave. No one’s seen-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” His green-eyed gaze was fixed on the front door.

“Y/N’S HOME!!”

“Y/N’S HOME!!” Donna exclaimed, throwing the door open. Her voice echoed down the driveway. She was clad in a Christmas jumper that your mum had made for you, your brother, and your sister a few years back. Mum always insisted that you wear it for at least one day when you visited. As per her request, it was folded neatly at the bottom of your luggage.

“It’s too late,” you whispered to yourself. “If we regret this, it’s not my fault.”

“We’ll be okay,” Brian put an arm around you and you leaned lazily into the hug.

“Y/n! My baby!” That was mum. Although your mum was loud at times, you loved her a lot. Your mother hustled from the front door clad in a loudly patterned apron, which itself was covered in flour and sugar.

“This doesn’t seem too bad,” he mused to you.

You looked at him from the side of your eyes. “Oh, just you wait.”

You took Brian’s hand and moved to meet them in the middle. Your sister practically jumped on you and knocked you over when she gave you a hug; the two of you tumbled as you hit the ground in a burst of laughter. Brian and your mother both rushed to help the two of you up.

“Hey, Brian,” Donna gave him a friendly hug. “So did she drive you crazy on the way here?”

“Absolutely bonkers.” He teased. You scoffed and bumped him with your shoulder.

“Hi, mum.” You moved to embrace your mother and she pulled you into a bone crushing hug. She held you at arms length.

“I missed you so much.” She gushed. Her fingers moved to hold your face. You couldn’t help your smile.

“It’s only been like a month and a half.” You laughed at her emotions.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t miss my daughter!” Your mother exclaimed. “Of course your father misses you too! I tried to get him to take work off today to come greet you two but you know him!” Unfortunately, you did. She rubbed your arms soothingly, turning her attention to Brian. “Now... introduce me to this strapping young man!”

You rolled your eyes but, deep down, it was your stomach that was really rolling. “Mum, this is Brian, my boyfriend.” That word still felt weird.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Brian,” she said as he extended his hand for her to shake. Your mother brushed his hand aside and pulled him into a tight sweet hug. Brian took it with a chuckle. “You don’t need to be formal with me. If you’re good enough for Y/n, you’re more than good enough for me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n,” he replied politely. Brian put an arm around your shoulders for emphasis. You wrapped your arms around his waist.

“Please, call me ‘Y/m/n.’” She froze all of a sudden. “Wait a second… is this the Brian from university?!” Your mum turned to you.

“Yes,” you smiled at your mom, “that’s where we met.”

“Oh my heavens! I remember you talking about Brian!” Your mother excitedly recalled. Uh-oh…

You laughed nervously and feigned forgetfulness. “What? I don’t think I remember-”

“I do!” She insisted. “You were her best friend.”

“I’d like to think I still am,” Brian replied. “I’m honestly surprised she didn’t run for the hills the moment I opened my mouth.”

Your mother chuckled, “Nonsense! I can see why she said you were so charming. And I remember one time she called me and said that she thought she fancied-”

“OKAY MUM!” Donna cut her off. Brian gave you and her a confused look. Thank God for Donna… “Don’t we have something in the oven?”

“Oh, good heavens! You’re right! Donna will show you to your room.” She turned and ran back inside. “JAMES!” She screeched. “HELP YOUR SISTERS AND BRIAN WITH THE LUGGAGE!”

There was grumbling from inside the house and you steeled yourself for the arrival of your brother. You turned to face Brian quickly as the two of you went back to the car to grab your bags. “I apologize in advance for anything that he says.”

“I can handle it.” He assured you. “I’ve already heard snippets of his typical vocabulary. I’ll be okay.”

As if on cue your brother materialized in the doorway looking classy as ever in an old pair of denim trousers and a stained t-shirt. He tiredly hobbled over, giving Brian a strange look as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You must be Brian,” James grumbled out. He looked him up and down suspiciously. “I see my sisters weren’t lying about you.”

“I am very much real. Were you expecting a bloke that looked like me? Perhaps less poodle-ish,” Brian called out, trying to lighten the mood up a little bit as he pulled another suitcase from the trunk.

Your brother hummed, unsatisfied, and finally looked at you. “You brought him.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t lying,” you said, cocking your head up proudly.

James hummed again, eyeing your, unbeknownst to him, fake boyfriend. Brian leaned against the car, having unloaded the last of the luggage, nodding a greeting at your brother.

“We’re definitely dating,” you urged. You stood next to Brian and he kissed the side of your head, while you stared down James.

James hummed a third time, oddly quiet. He glanced between you and Brian as if trying to see through the ruse. You were getting nervous.

“Yeah,” your brother stared right through you, “we’ll see about that.”

You, Brian, and Donna fidgeted nervously, not quite sure how to respond to what he said.

You cleared your throat and attempted to diffuse the tension. “Is this any way to greet your sister?”

He gave you a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a half-assed hug. Ah, yes, the depth of your brother’s affection…

Brian and James went to work grabbing the luggage wordlessly. You grabbed one of your bags and walked arm-in-arm with Donna. The two of you shared a look as you went inside and up the stairs.

“Here you go, lovebirds.” James half-tossed the luggage into his old room.

So this was where your mum had placed the two of you… It was the quietest and most isolated room in the house. Sitting above the garage, in the corner of the second floor, it was hard to disturb anyone with noise especially since the other two rooms on the floor were a decent distance away.

You wouldn’t have minded the space so much if the bed wasn’t a full-size and Bri wasn’t such a tall man.

“Are…” you started, “we sharing?” You hadn’t prepared for this. You couldn't even look at Brian.

You hadn’t counted on this being a part of the deal. And, of course, neither had Brian. God… you should have asked! At the very least to prepare yourself… To prepare Brian. You felt a pit forming in your belly.

“Yep,” he responded. “Mum figured the two of you would want to stay in the same area during your stay.”

“She and dad were okay with that?”

James leaned against the doorway. Donna stood behind him sheepishly. She had left that part out conveniently during the phone calls. “Mum was insistent. Dad put up more of a fight. They agreed though eventually.”

You looked at him with your mouth ajar, much like a fish. “Oh.”

“Is that going to be an issue?” James looked you and your fake boyfriend in the eye, a challenge.

Brian jumped to action. “Not at all. Thank you, James.”

He gave a tight-lipped smile and walked away with his arms crossed. You waited to hear his footsteps go down the creaky stairs before tearing into Donna.

She lowered her voice with her arms outstretched in front of her. “Before you yell at me, I didn’t know how to tell you. There are ears everywhere.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You couldn't have mentioned that? Like at all?”

“I’m sorry!” She whisper-yelled. “What would you have wanted me to do? Say that the two of you shouldn’t share a room? It’ll be easier to communicate with the both of you in the same space. Could you imagine being separate for a week while you try to pull this off?”

You supposed she was right. “No, no. You’re right.” You took a deep breath and changed your tone of voice so the rest of the house could hear you. “Thank you, Donna. I think we’re going to nap.”

She matched your tone. “Of course! I’ll let the two of you get settled in!” You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at her before she closed the door behind her and skipped away.

And then there were two.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Br- What are you doing?”

Brian was setting up his luggage next to the loveseat in the room and had found the spare blankets from the closet. He was making a bed on the couch. If he thought he was taking the couch, you’d be damned.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re making my bed, how kind of you! But really I’m the host so I must insist that you leave your accommodations to me, Mr. May.” You grabbed the spare pillow out of his hand and kicked his bag toward the bed. You began lugging your bag close to the couch. Brian stuck his foot out and stopped the bag.

“‘Your’ bed? I’m taking the couch.” He gently grabbed your bag and chucked it onto the bed. Your jaw dropped.

“No, Brian. I’m taking the couch. You’re too tall for it.” It was true. You could fit the couch much more comfortably than he could.

“Ah, but you see, as your boyfriend,” you rolled your eyes goodnaturedly, “I must be chivalrous and relinquish the bed to my beloved.”

“You’re being an ungrateful guest,” you countered.

He winced. “Low blow.”

“I’m not above it.” Brian snatched the pillow back and began rubbing his hair on it. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Staking my claim,” he answered, matter-of-factly. His hair was a static-y mess. As if to prove his point he tossed his body haphazardly onto the couch and sprawled out, limbs and all. “This is mine.”

“You act like you laying on top of something is going to deter me in any way.” You laughed at his logic. “Being on the couch does not mean it is suddenly uninhabitable.”

“It does.” He pointedly stretched his limbs out more. “Watch me.”

“This argument is going nowhere.”

“I agree. Which is why you should just let me take the couch.”

“What if we-”

A knock on the door sounded. Brian shot up and the two of you tossed the blankets and pillow haphazardly on the bed. You answered the door with Brian hovered closely behind you.

James. He had a smirk on his face. How much of the conversation had he heard?

“Yes?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it or not but I thought I’d be thorough and tell you that this room gets rather cold in the winters. The garage isn’t insulated and neither are the walls that this room shares with it.”

“Oh, really?”

“I mean, you’re already sharing a bed so that’ll help but you might want to grab some extra blankets on top of that. Perhaps a second bed’s worth.” He peeked in to see the mound of blankets on the bed. “But it looks like the two of you have already figured that out.”

You chuckled dryly. “Yep. Thanks for the pointer.”

James hummed a laugh. “Anytime.” And like the asshole he was he sauntered away humming a Bob Dylan song. You pushed the door closed and rested your forehead on it.

“We could switch nights?” You offered. Brian knew you better than that; of all the sensations that you hated (fatigue, hunger, headache, etc.) being cold was what you loathed the most.

“Or we could just share the bed like they suspect us to…” He suggested. You looked at him. He didn’t seem to be pulling your leg.

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that?” Your fingers picked at the ends of your hair.

Brian had his hands on his hips. “Not at all. Unless you would be.”

You looked him in the eye and then to the floor, your arms crossed. “I’m fine with it.”

“I guess we’ll share it then,” he affirmed.

“Yep.” You popped the ‘p.’

The two of you looked at the surrounding room and its four walls. The couch. The bed. The windows. Anywhere but each other. This was real. All the time you had pretended to be dating before you got to your parents house suddenly felt like dress rehearsals. This. This was real. And things were different.

This was showtime.

“Well, then,” Brian filled the silence. “Now that it’s settled why don’t we set up the room? We did tell them we were taking a nap. We can get settled a little bit.”

You nodded.

“I’ll do the bed if you do the closet?”

You nodded wordlessly again and took a deep breath before kicking off your shoes and opening the closet. You heard Brian take off his coat and toss it onto the couch. You set yours on top of his and reminded yourself to put in the coat closet downstairs by the front door.

As promised you began hanging some of your items and with Brian’s permission began helping him with his. The bathroom that was conjoined to the room soon had your various shampoo, tooth brushes, and regular hair brushes strewn across the counter top and among the shelves in the shower.

Amongst the thoughts of how absolutely spoiled rotten James had been up here while you and your sister had to share a smaller room was another more alarming notion. As you put yours and Brian’s shoes down on the floor of the closet and split the drawers between the two of you your mind drifted to the small part of it that realized how naturally it looked, how naturally it felt to have the items in the same space. To have Brian’s giant shoes next to yours. To have his various hair brushes that resembled Medieval torture devices right next to your own weapons of choice. To dance and bustle about a small space in a rhythm so natural that an onlooker would swear it was rehearsed.

“You’ve been awfully pensive,” Brian snapped you out of your stupor as you pulled a dress of yours onto a hangar and set it on your side of the closet trying to move in such a way that maybe you’d forget your hands were shaking and maybe Brian wouldn’t notice your hands shaking. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I…” you took a breath. You didn’t really know what to say. Instead you just turned and let yourself fall onto the couch back first and stared up at the blank ceiling. “This is really happening.”

“Hey.” Brian appeared into view as we walked to you and looked down. “Are you alright?”

You finally made eye contact with Brian and shook your head. Trying to will your tears back into your ducts with the help of good old-fashioned gravity you stared back up at the ceiling again.

Brian rushed to crouch at your side. “Woah, woah, woah. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

You turned to face him and sat up so that he could sit next to you on the couch. “No, it wasn’t you. I’m just overwhelmed. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. That my family sees so much of my value in my relationships and not me. That it went this far. That I actually care so much about what they think even though I shouldn’t. That I dragged you into this.”

Brian hummed in understanding and pulled you into a hug. “Well, first of all, you didn’t drag me into this. I body slammed myself into this. You didn’t even really need to ask me to help you; if anything I dragged you into this. Remember our little moment on the driveway?”

Yes… How infuriatingly encouraging he had been. How embarrassingly frantic you had behaved. He was right. Brian was unfailingly loyal to you. If he hadn’t backed down then, when you had offered him a way out.

“You know you’re earning your ‘poodle’ title more and more,” you commented.

Brian cocked his head. “How so?”

“Lanky, tall, high-maintenance-”

“Feeling the love. Thank you.”

“But still an excellent companion and unbelievably sweet.”

Brian gave you a soft smile and rubbed his arm up and down your back. “If I was a humbler person I might tell you to stop.”

“Oh I’m stopping,” you said, sniffling back your tears and exhaling the panic. “If your head gets any more full of hot air, your hair is going to start defying the laws of physics without any assistance.”

“Yeah, you’re feeling better,” Brian quipped, feigning offense.

“I’m sorry… which one of us brought more brushes and styling products?”

“I want to make a good first impression! I may be a fake boyfriend but I still want your family to like me.” He defended.

“You’ll be great! Aside from James, you’d have to do something really out of character to get them to not like you.”

“Not this ‘be yourself’ stuff again,” Brian complained and threw his head back to rest on the back of the couch.

“It’s true. They’ll love you!” You encouraged him.

Brian’s face took on that infamous cheeky expression. Uh-oh… “Is it because I’m… so charming?”

Your face flushed in remembrance of what your mother had almost let slip. You leaned forward and covered your face with your hand. “Why did I know you were going to bring that up?”

“Because you know me better than anyone else.” He replied, matter-of-factly.

“I think your mum might contend with me on that, Bri,” you offered.

“And I knew you were going to say that.” Brian shrugged in consideration. “Fine. You and my mum know me better than anyone else.”

“Well,” you set your hand on his knee. A once platonic gesture, it felt different this time. You continued, hurrying your way through what you were going to say so that it wouldn’t be as awkward when you stopped touching, “since we know each other so well, I’d say we stock up on rest while we can.”

“You talk like we’re going to be running a marathon for the next week.”

“Trust me, Bri,” you responded, standing up and laying down comfortably on the bed. “You’re gonna need it.”

Brian looked at you in disbelief. “Oh please. I’ve dealt with concerts for years. How bad can it be?!”

TAGS: @andtheswordwentsnickersnack @phantoms-lynn

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poptod · 5 years ago

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induratize (Kenny Al-Bahir x Reader)

Description: Induratize (v.) - to amek one's own heart hardened or resistant to someone's please or advances, or to the idea of love

Notes: I dislike this immensely and I feel embarrassed posting it but I mean... we’re lacking in Kenny fics and every bit counts lmao. Implied male reader. Word Count: 1.5k

In your world, there are certain things you don't understand but have to accept. There are things like that in every person's life, but you're a little too caught up in your own, centered around the school you go to and the home you can't bear. Not that there's any specific reason you dislike your home or your parents – just general teenage angst. It's handy to blame your problems on hormones, but there are adults like you too; adults who refuse to love, who can't open their hearts, who grow sick at the thought of loving others. You know it's unhealthy. You know something has to change, because it isn't like you've never felt love before – only that you've decided no one is truly worth the time and heartbreak.

A closeted, homosexual high schooler in 2005 – what a wonderful thing to be, what a wonderful reason to hate yourself. What a wonderful reason to distance yourself from your classmates, what a wonderful excuse to ignore your teachers. But you know the difference between solitude and being anti-social, a line you cross very easily, though you manage to stay on top of your grades and such.

You've got your life figured out, or at least the life you will have to live for the next couple of years. Stay quiet, stay under the radar, don't make friends, don't spill secrets, listen intently, and most of all stay safe. There's only one problem with all of this:

There is an insanely attractive person trying to get your attention.

Not just any attention, either – romantic attention, and you can tell by his quickened heartbeat when you accidentally touch upon his pulse point, his dilated eyes, his mouth parted ever so slightly in awe of you. You're nothing special, you know that, but you're not willing to debate why this boy likes you. The only thing you're willing to do is try and get rid of him.

During lunch times you try to find the oddest, most secluded spot you can so no one can find you. Usually it works well, and every now and then you go off to find a new spot – this time it's inside one of the trees on campus, far off on the other side of the school's massive lawn for football and soccer practice. Sitting underneath it would've been too conspicuous, so you climbed high into it's branches, and began quietly eating.

Nearer to the school building itself, kids swarm around in all different heights and colors, like a massive swath of bees that don't quite belong to the beehive but can't survive anywhere else. It's a stupid analogy you think, but not entirely incorrect. However there's one distant form that grows steadily larger and clearer, and as a sinking feeling develops in your chest, you realize that maybe sitting in a tree isn't as inconspicuous as you originally thought. It's that boy who keeps trying to talk to you, and his hair looks recently cut. He looks a lot better than he did before.

"Hey," he says, a simple start to what you know is going to be a grueling conversation, at least for you. His voice wavers when you meet his eye, something you're sure is an anxious habit.

You don't respond.

"What are you, um, doing up there?"

"Eating," you reply in a muffled voice, talking around a purposefully large bite of sandwich.

"Can I join you?" He asks, much more straightforward than you thought him capable of. In the one class you have with him, he's rather squirrelly, but you admire the courage he's plucked up. So instead of saying no you say nothing, and wait for him to draw his own conclusions.

It takes him a little while, but he manages to get to where you sit, the thick tree branches easily supporting his weight next to you. As he gets comfortable you note his heavy breathing, and watch with careful eyes as he takes off his coat. He has muscles. How did you never notice that before?

He takes a deep sigh and closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the sky. It's then you notice the discoloration along his jawline, a clear bruise against his tawny oak skin, and a cut across his cheekbone. Curiosity overcomes you, and for the first time in a good long while you say the first sentence.

"What happened to you?"

Impersonal enough, you think – it isn't like you asked him if he's alright, though it is sort of implied... when he turns to you with surprise, you can feel regret bubbling in your stomach.

"I, um, got into a fight," he says quietly, scratching sheepishly at the back of his neck. You raise a single eyebrow. He's not the type to get into fights. "Alright, fine," he says. "I.. got beat up, just a little bit. You should see the other guy."

What a cheesy joke, you think, but he smiles gingerly and every thought in your head blips out of existence.

"Oh, my name's Kenny," he says suddenly, holding his hand out for you to shake. He's overly polite, but you know your manners as well, and you take his hand to greet.

"I thought so," you say in reply, recalling the few times his name was hinted at you. "I'm (Y/N)."

"You're in my science class, right?"

"AP Biology, second period, Mrs. Holsten," you say.

"Right. She assigns a lot of homework," he comments thoughtlessly, something you know is a desperate attempt to fill any silence that could appear.

"Sometimes," you agree.

"I just.. it takes me forever, 'cause I usually have to help Larry finish his as well. He's in that class too."

"Who's Larry?" You ask slowly, wanting nothing more than to crawl up into a ball and roll away. This is far too close to 'getting to know someone' than you're comfortable with.

"Oh, sorry, he – he's one of my friends," he says as though he has other friends.

You hum in response, directing your attention back at your lunch. Kenny, however, feels very differently, and makes several more attempts to keep conversation going. For the most part you don't pay attention, catching only snippets of the subjects he's talking about – even though you despise talking with people, you can't deny he has a very nice voice, and you (unfortunately) enjoy listening to him.

"– yeah, but no matter if the rumors are true or not, they're still bad to spread around, you know? Like, there's rumors about me, and –"

"What rumors?" You interrupt him, turning to face him.

"Oh, um... some people think I'm gay," he laughs, and it's a horrible fake laugh, "which of course isn't true."

You're so tempted, so, so tempted to say point blank that you're gay, to ask what's wrong with being gay, but you don't. Thank God.

"Interesting," is what you settle on, staring at him and nodding like you're spacing out which, to be fair, isn't entirely untrue.

Kenny seems kind enough – he's practically spilled his entire life story over the course of the fifteen minutes you've been together, and you have little reason to distrust him. That being said, your distrust of humanity is still rooted deep inside you, and you doubt a single man could demolish that. But looking at him, watching the way he bites subconsciously at his lips, the way his eyelids flutter open and closed and the long lashes that line his grey eyes – you want to toy with this boy. It's probably just your gay thoughts irritating you again, but God he looks like a good target, and he's just so damn pretty.

So you give in.

"Has anyone told you yet that you're pretty?" You ask, pretending it's a normal and casual thing to ask. As expected, Kenny flusters and stammers, falling over his words as he tries to string together a coherent sentence.

"I, uh – I'm not, I uh.. I don't think I – not.. um, there's not – I mean –"

You decide to spare him from further embarrassment, which he greatly appreciates (even if he doesn't say anything).

"I'm assuming that's a no, then," you say, to which he quickly agrees with a nod of his head. "That's a shame. I hope that changes."

Your saving grace – the bell rings from across the large field, and tucking away your containers into your too-large pockets, you hop easily down the tree, followed by a much more nervous Kenny. Reaching your hands up to him, you help him down the last branch, landing him safely on his feet.

"There you are," you mutter as he brushes himself off. "Any scratches?"

"I, um, don't think so," he says quietly, his breath halting when you brush a hand down his chest, ridding his shirt of a couple of bits of bark.

"Get some ice on that cut and bruise," you say, patting his shoulder and turning to leave.

After a moment you can hear his footsteps chasing after you, and it isn't long at all till the two of you are walking together, on your way to your separate classes.

"A lot of people think you're rude," he says out of nowhere. You shrug.

"That's on them," you chuckle, and he easily agrees.

"I think you're kinda nice."

"... thanks."

It's the first time anyone your age has complimented you. Maybe talking to people isn't as horrible as you thought.

#kenny al bahir x reader #kenny al bahir #rami malek #war at home #rami malek character #male reader

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bluesfortheredj · 5 years ago

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The Sweet Escape Chapter 5.

Wed 21st June

You wake up with a fuzzy head after not getting a lot of sleep the night before and memories of what happened yesterday soon come flooding back; the good, the great, and the downright awful way the day ended. Your head was still spinning from everything that had happened and it was making you feel so sick you thought you were about to throw up any second. Gwilym had video called his fiancée last night, you’d heard snippets through the wall, but you’d put your headphones on for a couple of hours so that you could block it all out and let him get on with it in private. It wasn’t for you to hear, she needed to hear what he had to say, not you. You felt cheated once again thanks to him not being honest with you, and it was the worst feeling in the world after finally letting him in to your life.

You should have stuck to your guns.

You should have kept pushing him away.

You should have known better after everything that had happened.

When you swing your legs out of bed and begrudgingly get out from underneath the warm covers, you spot a folded white sheet of paper that’s been pushed underneath your door, and you immediately know who it’s from. You go and pick it up with a heavy sigh, then reluctantly open it up to see a hastily written note from Gwilym.

(Y/N),

I knew the engagement was a mistake from the moment she said yes – the pressure of everyone around me moving on with their lives; getting married and having children became overwhelming and I thought that the best thing to do was join them.

I didn’t mean to involve you in any of this, it’s my mistake that I need to fix, and I promise I will. Being with you today has ignited something within me that I never thought would come to life again.

Please believe me when I say I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.

I didn’t mean for any of this to happen but my heart just couldn’t stop itself when I saw you, and I followed it blindly without thinking of the consequences.

I didn’t mean to fall for you, but I did.

The engagement is over, it never really began anyway.

Please give me a chance to talk to you face to face. After dinner, on the cliff path. Please. X

A tear falls from your cheek onto the paper unexpectedly as you realise that you’d also foolishly followed your heart instead of listening to your head, and you can’t help but remember the words that you’d heard being exchanged between him and his fiancée.

“You don’t want to go through with this, do you?” she’d asked immediately upon answering.

“I… I can’t.”

“Well the 30 unanswered calls and god knows how many texts told me that. You could have at least said something before you ran away.”

“I didn’t run away, I needed some time and space-”

“I knew this was going to happen. I fucking knew it.”

“What?”

“As soon as I said yes to you, you turned into someone else, and now I can see already that you look more like the person you were before you asked me the question,” she’d snapped.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“Me?! Why didn’t I say something?! Why the fuck didn’t you? I loved you. I wanted to make it work.”

“I’m so sorry. So very sorry, Rosie. I don’t know what to say.”

“There’s nothing you can say. I’ll get your sister to pick up your belongings from mine and drop them at your parent’s. You can do the explaining to them. Goodbye Gwilym.”

You wince at the memory of her cutting him off like that, knowing that he would now be dreading going back home, but it couldn’t soften your heart and how you personally felt about him; you were still filled with anger and hurt at it all. It didn’t even come into it that he deemed the relationship over, the fact of the matter was that he had been engaged when he kissed you, and after what you’d had happen to you, it was the worst thing in the world he could have done.

You trudge towards your door after getting dressed, then hold your breath as you listen for any movement from the next room, and when you’re satisfied that Gwil’s not around you sneak out and into the breakfast room before anyone else.

“You’re early!” Danielle smiles as you walk towards her, but her grin soon fades when she takes a proper look at you; your eyes dark and heavy from lack of sleep, your mouth turned down into an unintentional grimace, “are you okay?”

“Just feeling under the weather today, I won’t be here for breakfast I’m afraid,” you sigh to exaggerate the fact you didn’t feel well.

“Not a problem darling, do you want some toast to take to your room?”

“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you though.”

You quickly slip back to your room until you hear Gwilym exit to go to breakfast, then make your escape while everyone’s eating and drive out to one of your favourite beauty spots to just sit and think things over in the tranquil surroundings of the countryside. Your thoughts soon turn to how you can avoid going to dinner, but dammit you were a fucking adult and had to face this head on instead of running away and hiding from it all; pretending none of this had ever happened. The buzzing from your phone soon drags you back to the present moment and when you see it’s your mum you almost burst into tears right there and then.

“Hello,” you answer meekly.

“What happened sweetheart?” she sighs. She was your mother, she knew already.

“Oh, mum,” you sob, “it’s a mess.”

The next hour or so is spent alternating between conversation and crying both on the nearby bench and then in your car when other people appear, and your mum listens to everything you have to say carefully until you run out of tears and words.

“And why did you bring his note with you when you left the guest house?” she asks, much to your confusion.

“Well, I… I don’t… I just put it in my bag, I don’t know why. Is it relevant?”

“You tell me.”

“Well I guess I just wanted to read over it again before dinner.”

“Because you want to give him the chance to talk to you? He’s obviously very taken by you, and he hasn’t held back in expressing his feelings about you, even if it is a rather short period of time. Who can blame him though? You’re beautiful, intelligent-”

“Mum.”

“What? I’m just saying, you can’t blame him for liking you… Even if he has gone about this the completely wrong way and made himself look like a total and utter arsehole in the process.”

You manage to let out a short laugh at her observation of the situation, he has indeed made himself look like a complete prick to be honest.

“Hmm,” you hum in agreement, “I definitely agree with the arsehole bit.”

“But, on the other hand, he has done the right thing his side with breaking things off.”

“But he didn’t tell her he kissed me.”

“Things were over as soon as he ran away like a cowardly muppet. He didn’t need to say anything about the kiss, love. It wasn’t you that broke them apart, that’s all down to him and the fact that he never should have proposed in the first place.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, “true. Still doesn’t change the fact that he wasn’t upfront with me though.”

“Oh of course it doesn’t, and I fully expect you to give him hell for that, especially after what happened with Russell… But I would give him a chance to talk to you face to face. It doesn’t mean you’re okay with anything, and it doesn’t even mean you’ll talk to him for the remainder of your stay, it just means you’re mature enough to hear what he has to say and give him a bit of a bollocking for acting like a twat at the same time.”

“Haha!” you laugh, “he’s definitely getting a bollocking, don’t you worry mum.”

“You really like him, don’t you?” she asks, already knowing your answer.

“Yeah… unfortunately.”

“It’s not unfortunate at all, you needed something to take your mind off Russell. It’s just a shame he’s a bit of a twit,” your mum chuckles.

“Just goes to show there’s no such thing as a perfect man!” you reply, “I should have known there’d be something wrong with someone so handsome.”

“Well it could be worse, just try and think on that. Now you get something to eat please, and then text me when you’ve spoken to him tonight.”

“Will do. Love you.”

“Love you too darling.”

You let out a long and loud sigh as you tilt your head back on the head rest, then put your phone in your bag along with the note you’d read out to your mum, and decide on where to go for lunch; all that crying had really worked up an appetite.

The time goes far too quickly for you, and you find yourself clenching your teeth the entire drive back to the guest house. You wait outside for a few minutes before eventually undoing your seatbelt and making your way inside, then you rush to your room and shut yourself in until you absolutely have to leave it and face Gwilym again. Your stomach couldn’t help but feel nervous at seeing him again, it was a wild mix of emotions that you felt, and when you take your seat in the dining room your heart is racing inside your chest. He walks in not long after you but stays silent as he nods and smiles to the other guests who are already seated, then he looks directly at you, the sadness in his eyes evident already as you quickly turn away for fear of crying.

“Are you-” he begins.

“How are you feeling now darling?” Danielle interrupts, positioning herself between your tables to block his view.

“Better, thanks,” you nod as she places your starter down in front of you.

“Good to hear,” she smiles as she gives your shoulder a squeeze.

Gwilym takes the hint and doesn’t attempt any further conversation while you’re eating, then you make the first move as you exit the dining room before him, taking a slow stroll up the garden and eventually out onto the cliff path. Your fingers wrap around the cold metal of the fence that separates you from the sea below as you await Gwil’s arrival, and as soon as you see his familiar figure lingering next to you, your grip gets a little tighter.

“I’m sorry. So very sorry (Y/N),” he sighs, “I didn’t-”

“Why?” you butt in quietly but confidently, “why did you do that to me? It was quite literally the worst thing you could have done.”

“I didn’t realise that Russell had cheated on you, I was stupid to do that, I wasn’t thinking straight at all...”

“I mean, I realise that your relationship was over before that happened, but it doesn’t change the fact that you were still engaged when we kissed,” you sigh, letting go of the fence and turning to face him properly, “do you know how shit that made me feel? Being involved in a situation that was dangerously close to what had just happened to me, but on the other side of it?”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs defeatedly, “I don’t know what else to say. There was no excuse for how I acted, I simply shouldn’t have done it without properly ending things first. Russell was a fucking prick to do that to you, and now I’ve acted like a prick. I’m not really a prick though, honestly, and all I did was follow my heart… and I know you did too, otherwise you wouldn’t have let me in like you did. I betrayed your trust, and I’ll never forgive myself for doing that, because it’s true what I said yesterday, you deserve everything that’s good in this world.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, half to stop yourself from crying and half because he’d just said everything you wanted him to say even though you didn’t want to let him off that easy on this.

“Come and sit with me,” he offers, taking your free hand and leading you over the to bench.

You both take a seat; his arm automatically draping around your shoulders and his thumb rubbing your t-shirt comfortingly.

“I don’t expect to be forgiven straight away,” he says quietly, “but I’m not going to just leave things like this. I can’t. I’m in too deep. I need you in my life (Y/N), and I don’t think you realise the effect you’ve had on me these last few days.”

“Well, I obviously made you forget you had a fiancée yesterday…” you say with a sideways glance.

“I deserved that,” Gwil nods, “that was a dick move on my part, I hold my hands up.”

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement.

Within a matter of seconds he’s on his knees in front of you, holding your hands in his as he meets your confused gaze with pleading eyes that were glistening in the dim street light a few feet from the seat you were on.

“I will do anything… anything… to spend the next few days with you. Please. Give me a chance to show you I’m not a complete dickhead,” a stray tear falls down his cheek, but his grip on your hands only tightens as he awaits your answer, “I promise I’ll make it up to you by the end of the week.”

“When we’ll inevitably go our separate ways...” you sigh, seeing the end before it’s already begun.

“We won’t,” he replies, shaking his head furiously from side to side, “that won’t happen because I won’t let it, but we don’t even have to think about that yet. Just follow your heart one more time and I swear I won’t let you down.”

You slip a hand from his and his face visibly drops at your action until you reach out towards him slowly and wipe away the tears that had fallen upon his cheeks while he was speaking. There was a hell of a lot of making up to do, but if he believed that he could do it all by the end of the week, then who were you to stop him from attempting it? You relent, signifying your decision by giving him a single nod, and his face lifts instantly into a smile.

@painthatiusedto @winnielinleigh @queenslandlover-93 @excellentbecca @peachllobotomy @lovemarvelousfics @lovemelikeyou1997 @readinghorn @godohammers @timeandpixiedust @lv7867 @fuckyou-imspiderman @aynsleywalker @the-baby-bookworm @chlobo6 @tenement-funstah @rogmeddows @drivenbybri @mazzellosjoe @muralskins

#gwilym lee #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fluff #gwilym imagine

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hymn2000 · 5 years ago

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Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C6

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2 3 4 5

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment, hurt/comfort

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 6 - Aggravation

Peter didn’t have long to enjoy the calm and quiet before his parents woke up and steadily the house seemed to come to life. Soon, Tony came into the kitchen.

“Have you finished that drink?”

“Nearly” Peter said. “Why?”

“When you’ve finished it, don’t get another one, or anything to eat. Ok?”

“Um... Ok?”

“Good boy” Tony nodded, opening the fridge. “You need to get dressed today”

“I... Wasn’t going to not get dressed”

“Mm” Tony said, clearly not listening.

Peter sighed and downed the rest of his drink. There goes the peace, he thought.

Peter went out of his way to keep his distance from Tony, which wasn’t too difficult, given the size of the house. After about an hour, he heard Tony calling his name, but he chose not to take any notice.

Unfortunately, Loki always knew how to find him, and he weaselled him out within minutes.

“Your father’s been calling you” Loki said. “Didn’t you hear?”

“...No”

“Yes you did. Come on now”

Peter whined and stayed where he was.

“Loki? Have you found him?!” Tony shouted, soon appearing in the doorway. “Oh, you’re there! Did you have your headphones on? Whatever; get your shoes on”

“Why?”

“Just do as you’re told, chick” Tony said firmly.

“But why?!”

“Because I said so!”

“That’s not a good enough answer!”

“For gods sake, Peter! Just do as you’re told!”

“BUT WHY?!”

“Peter, stop shouting” Loki snapped. “Go and get your shoes on. Now”

Peter sighed in an exaggerated fashion and stormed off. So much for a quiet day at home.

Tony grabbed Loki while he was waiting for Peter.

“He’s ok, right?”

“Yes, he’s fine” Loki said. “Why?”

“I don’t need to overshare with him, right? We’ll just get it done, and then I’ll like, I don’t know... Treat him or something?”

“Tony, you’re overthinking this. You made the decision alone; you can execute it alone” Loki said, not quite hiding his disapproval. “Look, I really do need to get going”

“You said you weren’t going to work this week”

“I know, but I’m needed today. We’ll talk later, ok? I love you”

“I love you too...”

Loki kissed him, and Tony kissed him back, although he still seemed worried.

“Don’t look so scared, darling” Loki said. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll be back this evening”

Peter got ready to go out, but when they got down to the garage, he held onto the banister and refused to get into the car.

“Peter, stop being silly: we’re going to be late” Tony said. “Do you want me to get your dad?”

“Just tell me where we’re going and I’ll get in the car”

Tony sighed heavily. “Just get in the car”

“JUST TELL ME WHERE WE’RE GOING THEN!”

“PETER! DON’T SHOUT!” Tony shouted. “We’ve got a doctors appointment. Happy now?”

Peter paused. “Ok. I don’t see why you had to refuse to tell me for so long”

“Just get in the car, Peter”

Peter watched Tony closely in the car. He seemed a little tense, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Peter assumed he was due for a blood test or something - he couldn’t see any other reason Tony would try to put off telling him - but even then, it wasn’t something he’d ever done before. But then again, Tony had been acting pretty weird lately, so who was he to judge? He just hoped it wouldn’t take too long: he wanted to go home.

The other patients in the waiting room weren’t exactly subtle. Peter hated the feeling of being watched, and he hated overhearing snippets of whispered conversations and mutterings about him and his family. He glared at them as he sat down. Tony sat beside him and put an arm tight round him, almost as though he were restraining him.

“Just ignore them” he murmured. “We don’t need to give anyone anything to react to”

Peter didn’t say anything. He leant into Tony and looked at the floor, following the swirling pattern with his eyes. At least being at the doctors demanded some kind of privacy, even if they were celebrities. Even so, he really wished he was somewhere - anywhere - other than here.

It wasn’t long before their names were called and they could leave the waiting room.

“How are you?” Dr Manning asked.

“I’m alright, thanks. As much as I can be under the circumstances. And you?” Tony said.

“I can’t complain. And how are you, young man?”

Peter didn’t say anything; just followed them into the office.

“Thanks for fitting us in at such short notice” Tony said, taking a seat. “How are you doing it? Are you doing blood?”

Dr Manning shook his head. “No, no, blood isn’t necessary. There’s other just as good ways - maybe even better ways - to do it”

“Oh good. You know this one hates needles” he nodded towards Peter. “And to be honest, I’m not a huge fan either”

“I don’t think anyone is” Dr Manning said, organising some items laid out on his desk. He picked up one of the sticks, which had what looked like corrugated foam at the end. “When did you two last eat?”

“I had something about three hours ago” Tony said. “I’ve made sure this one hasn’t had anything for a while either. About an hour and a half ago, maybe more?”

“Good. Good, thank you for heeding my advice” the doctor said. “Now, shall we do you first?”

Peter looked between the two grown-ups, trying to work out what was going on. He’d started to feel a little funny; a bit sick and hollow, and nervous. He didn’t know what he was doing here.

Dr Manning was leaning against his desk now, standing in front of Peter, and Tony, who had just said he’d go first - whatever that meant. Peter tried to make eye contact to question them, but neither men were looking at him. Peter watched, a little taken aback, as Tony opened his mouth. It was only when Dr Manning put the stick into his mouth that Peter twigged that it was a swab - and he suddenly knew why.

His heart started to thump in his chest, and he felt sick. He couldn’t take his eyes off what was happening, but he hated it all the same. What was going on? This was a dream, surely? Tony had been so insistent, so clear that he was against this... So what had changed? What had he missed?

Peter waited, and all too soon the fourth swab was finished and packed, and all eyes turned to him. Tony refused eye contact. Dr Manning smiled.

“Alright, kiddo” he said. “Your turn”

“No”

Tony and Dr Manning looked at each other. Tony looked at Peter.

“What do you mean; no?”

“You didn’t tell me this was why we were coming! You didn’t say anything about this!” Peter said, outraged. “It’s not fair! You haven’t got any right to do this!”

“Peter, you can cope with having a few swabs in your mouth” Tony said. “It’s not a big deal, and you’re still just a kid: I can make medical decisions on your behalf, and you can’t back out of this one”

“Isn’t it technically a matter of science, not medicine?”

“Don’t be pedantic, Peter” Tony sighed. “Come on, kiddo; don’t be difficult”

“I’m not being difficult: I’m being perfectly reasonable! You should’ve told me about this, or at least ran it by me!”

At first Peter hadn’t been so bothered about this prospect, but then he’d changed his mind, and now that he was being backed into a corner by it, it was the last thing in the world that he wanted.

“But why?! You always said never to give in to the press, and that’s what you’re doing! You said it didn’t matter!”

“I said a lot of things” Tony said. “But I’ve made a decision. I’m doing this for you, sweetheart”

“No you’re not!”

“Yes, I am! I’m doing it so I can get the press off our backs - yours, most importantly. They’re not gonna leave us alone until something else blows up, or they’ve got the proof they want - and ‘something else’ is taking too long. So we’re giving them proof that you’re not my biological son. Ok?”

“No, it’s not ok!”

Tony sighed. “If it doesn’t matter, why make such a fuss over the test?”

“It’s a matter of principal!”

Tony laughed slightly. “Peter, come on now”

“Perhaps” Dr Manning said. “Perhaps you should have told him before bringing him here”

“Exactly!” Peter nodded. “Thank you”

“Peter, no one is going to hold you down and force your mouth open. If you don’t want to do this, I certainly won’t make you. But try to understand where your father’s coming from”

“I do understand where he’s coming from! I just think it was wrong of him to force it on me like this”

“Sweetheart” Tony took hold of Peter’s hand. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I really need you to let me do this. It’s my job to look after you, and protecting you from the press is part of my job description. This is the only way to get them off our backs. Please, it’ll only take a few minutes”

Peter looked at the swabs lying on the doctors desk. He looked at his and his father’s hands. He didn’t feel sure about this, and he didn’t like it, not one bit. But he also had a feeling that even if he was technically being given a choice, he only really had one option.

So he nodded, and he saw Tony sigh with relief.

“Thank you”

Peter never especially liked Dr Manning touching him, but somehow this felt worse than ever. He didn’t like being so close either, and not knowing where to look. He finally settled on the clock, watching the seconds tick by painfully slowly. Four minutes had never felt like such a long time.

Tony stopped when they reached the car, and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder to stop him. Peter made himself look at him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, kiddo. I really am. Honestly”

Peter nodded slightly.

“...Thank you” Tony said. “Thank you for doing it anyway. I know it’s not very comfortable”

Tony rested a hand on Peter’s cheek, brushed his hair back from his face, and then pulled him close and hugged him tight.

“I really am doing it for you, kiddo. I can’t stand the way the press have been treating you and making you feel. In a few days, we’ll get the results, and then we can put this whole thing to rest. Ok?”

Peter snuggled into Tony’s chest. He still felt a bit funny, but he was starting to feel better. He liked the feeling of Tony’s hand on his head, and he knew where he was coming from. Besides, Tony had always looked out for him. Why would now be any different?

“Alright then” Tony stepped back and cleared his throat. “Get in”

Peter did as he was told, and when Tony started the car, he spoke.

“Um, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m kinda hungry”

“Yeah?” Tony said. “Well, let’s get you fed, then!”

“Ok. What do we have in? I kinda fancy something hot”

“Why bother cooking? We could always eat out”

“Oh! Really? Um...” Peter thought for a moment. “What about daddy?”

“He’s gone to the hospital, remember?”

“Has he?”

“Uh, yeah!” Tony laughed slightly. “I guess you didn’t hear that bit of conversation then. He’ll be back this evening. He won’t know, mind, or care if we eat without him. So, what do you fancy?”

“I don’t really know. What about you?”

“I don’t really know either” Tony said. “Hey, how about we just find somewhere different, like, one of the places you used to go with May? Or somewhere we’ve never been before? What do you say?”

“Well... That could be interesting, I guess” Peter said. “It could be good?”

“Yeah, it could be good! Let’s do that then!”

Tony seemed so enthusiastic about the idea that Peter couldn’t really shoot it down. Besides, sometimes it was good to try something new.

“Well, you can pick the restaurant” Peter said, fiddling with the car stereo. “And I’ll choose the soundtrack”

There was a short silence before music filled the car.

Tony laughed slightly and ruffled the boys hair. “You’re definitely your father’s son, you know”

Peter just shrugged. He knew.

Peter had a sneaking suspicion he’d overestimated his stomach when ordering. He had a feeling Tony had too.

“Well, my father always said my eyes were bigger than my belly” Tony said, putting his fork down. “It was his way of calling me a greedy bastard, I think”

“Oh right” Peter said awkwardly. “You never talk about him, you know”

“Why would I?”

“Well... he was your dad. So... that makes him my granddad... It’d be good to know a bit about him”

“Look on Wikipedia then”

Peter pouted, but he didn’t push it. Neither of his parents spoke about their parents. Sometimes he didn’t mind, but sometimes he did. Especially when his friends started talking about their grandparents and he had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

“So” Tony said. “Do you think you can manage a pudding after all those buffalo cauliflower whatsits and onion rings and chicken and stuff?”

“You bet!” Peter said, grateful for the break in tension. “What about you?”

“Maybe something small. Depends what they’ve got”

“They had some great looking stuff! I might want two puddings” Peter said, snatching a dessert menu out of the stand. “Good job we have separate stomachs for sweet things, right?”

Tony chuckled. “Your whale’s gonna have to retire from singing at this rate! You’ll burst if you eat too much more. Or at the very least throw up”

“Yeah, maybe, but it’ll be worth it”

“Mm, well I don’t want you making a mess of the upholstery, so don’t go overboard”

“...Red velvet and white chocolate cheesecake” Peter said. “I’ve made a decision”

“Mm. Well, I’m just gonna have a coffee...”

“What kind?” Peter asked, looking at the list, and especially at the liqueur coffee offer at the bottom of the page.

Tony hesitated. “...Just a latte. I’ve already eaten too much. I’ll finish off your cheesecake when you give up half way through”

“Ha! There’s not a dessert on the planet that can beat me!”

He was wrong, of course, and gave up a little over halfway through his pudding - but he told Tony that he left it on purpose, because it didn’t seem fair for only one of them to get a pudding. So Tony finished it off for him, and then they both sat back, feeling too full to even move.

“...It’s been a pretty long time since just the two of us did this” Tony said. “It’s good to spend a bit of time with you”

“Yeah... Hey, since we’re too full to start a fight, can I ask you something?”

“That sounds ominous” Tony said. “What is it?”

“Are you taking me out of St Hendricks?”

Tony stopped for a minute. “...What makes you think that?”

“I overheard you and daddy talking about homeschooling”

“Ah. Uh...” Tony set his mug down. “How would you feel if we did?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. If you did it right now, I don’t think I’d care. I’m not exactly getting on with the people there right now”

“I see”

“So, are you taking me out of school?”

“We’re not sure yet. We’re still thinking about it. Although not so much right now, because we’ve got a whole bunch of stuff to sort out. Like all this stuff with the press... You know you’re not allowed to tell anyone about what we did today, right?”

“Who am I gonna tell?” Peter said, shrugging. “I’m not gonna go shouting about it. I think you know that. Or at least you should, considering how long you’ve known me”

“Yeah” Tony checked his watch. “Hey, we should be heading back: I’ve got a conference call in an hour. You can amuse yourself for a bit, can’t you?”

Peter nodded.

“Good. Right, come on then”

Peter did as he was told, but as they were walking to the car, he realised that the meal they’d just had was much better in theory than in practice. He’d thought he’d come out of there feeling healed and warm and happy, but he didn’t. He didn’t like his father very much right now, and he wasn’t afraid to admit that to himself. Maybe he’d go to sleep for a bit when he got home. He just hoped that afterwards, he’d feel ok again.

Peter sat looking in Loki’s room, looking at the big picture on the wall by the door. It was old now, evident by the fact it was all three of them with May. Things had been much simpler back then, Peter was sure of it. He loved his parents, but he still felt he’d swap his current life to get May back. Sure, some things were better now (well, quite a lot of things), but he’d been happy back in the days where he was only in this giant house two or three nights a week, and he resided in the scrubby old flat in Queens with May, and he was friends with Ned, and he mastered a double - almost triple - life, and he was out as Spiderman every single night.

He couldn’t help feeling melancholy when he thought about that. Nowadays, he probably went out as Spiderman once or twice a week, if that. Some weeks he didn’t go at all. There were times where he’d go out every night for a week or so, but it wasn’t a constant thing. It wasn’t that he’d lost interest, or that it had lost its meaning: it was just that he didn’t always have the motivation, and somehow life kept getting in the way. Besides, it had started to feel different, mainly because he kept comparing it to the old times in Queens. Spiderman was still well known, but Peter had long since stopped being excited whenever his alter-ego turned up in the papers. At least no one knew it was him. Well, aside from his parents. And the Avengers. And Ned... But none of those were likely to spill his secret, and he knew that. Sometimes he felt like he wouldn’t care if people knew - but he also felt like his parents would mind very much. It was a tricky one.

Peter eventually slipped off Loki’s bed and went to his own room. He paused, looking at the locket hanging beside his sink. He liked having it there (although he did often forget about it), but sometimes it just reminded him of the “arrangement” Loki and Tony and May had had. He’d stopped feeling bitter about that a long time ago, but he still didn’t like thinking about it. Especially now. Because if he thought about it too much, he almost started to believe what the papers were saying. And even when he didn’t believe them, he completely understood where the reporters were coming from.

After all, what other conclusion would anyone pull from a man who had spent most of his adult life being a self-proclaimed Playboy? Who knew how many people his father had slept with? That was another thing Peter didn’t like thinking about. Sometimes, when Tony talked about Peter being his heir; his successor, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe - just maybe - he was fated to follow a little too closely in his father’s footsteps.

And as much as Peter loved him, he was grateful he was only adopted. Because, (as much as he’d never admit it out loud) he didn’t want to grow up to be anything like Tony Stark.

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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littletayyswriting · 5 years ago

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Title: The Sun Still Waits Here (With the Moon and Stars Beside It) (7/?)

Author: LittleTayy

Rating: Mature

Characters: Marisa Coulter, Lord Asriel, Lyra Belacqua, Ma Costa

Summary: Marisa Coulter and Lord Asriel aren’t typical parents but they certainly try their best. Raising their child isn’t as easy as they thought it would be; professional ambitions and personal vices getting in the way.

( Snippets of an AU story, set in our modern world. )

AN: This is based off the TV Show.

Read On: AO3

the family torn asunder requires the gentlest stitch

part ii

It is just after 10AM when Marisa receives a phone call. She'd been lamenting, tipsy on 20 year old scotch, sprawled across her expensive couch. She and Asriel had been searching for Lyra all night and at the insistence of the police officers they'd spoken too, had eventually retired to her flat around the early morning.

Marisa wasn't sure what time they'd gotten in, she just knew that she was exhausted. And by the looks of Asriel, who she had reluctantly let follow her up, he was too. So, instead of doing anything sensible they'd opened a bottle of scotch; Asriel drinking only a few fingers and Marisa the rest.

She scrambles for her phone, brows furrowing for a moment as the caller I.D. is unknown but answers it nonetheless. “Yes? Hello?” She answers rather rudely, hoping and praying it is someone calling to say they'd found Lyra.

To her relief, it is. The sergeant, she can't remember his name, puts Lyra on the phone for a moment and Marisa can't remember ever being so happy. Asriel, for his part, has perked up on the couch across from her, clearly realising the importance of the phone call.

Marisa is loathe to hang up but when she does, she turns her watery eyes and wide smile to Asriel happily. “They found her. Thank God!” She exclaims breathlessly, pushing up off the couch and straightening herself up.

She busies herself while they wait. Now too anxious and frantic to sit. Asriel is amused, though he keeps his calm exterior. It would do no one any good to see how worried and anxious he'd also been. Marisa was the one, despite how hard she tried to keep herself sedate, that was inexplicably hot tempered. Asriel found that it was easier to be the counterpoint to her hot temperament.

The elevator arrived with a ding to Marisa’s penthouse floor. Gilded golden doors opening just as Marisa rushed into the hallway, eyes set on her child huddled up in a policeman’s jacket.

“Lyra!” Marisa cried, rushing forward and all but snatching their child into her arms.

She paid no attention to the policeman whatsoever, leaving that to Asriel as he stepped out of the living room to witness the reunion. He eyed the police officer with suspicion and curiosity, stepping forward with a nod.

“Thank you, Officer…”

“Byrnison, sir. PC Byrnison,” the PC replied, voice gruff as his gaze moved from mother and daughter, up to look at Asriel.

Asriel extended his hand and PC Byrnison shook it strongly. Asriel didn't like the way the constable was regarding them so wearily.

“Where did you find my daughter?” Asriel asked, voice deep and commanding. There was no harm in reminding Byrnison that he was a Lord and that their family was far above some lowly police officer.

Unfortunately, Byrnison took no notice. Or so it seemed. “Your daughter was entertaining herself at the markets. Seems she'd slept in a park shed overnight and then thought she'd try and get some breakfast this morning,” Byrnison told him, amusement pacing his tone, though his eyes still held suspicion. “I caught her trying to steal a bun. I bought it for her, instead. Then we had a nice long chat and she mentioned who she was. That's when I remembered the alert that went out,” the PC replied.

Asriel glared haughtily as Marisa stood finally. She'd been fussing over Lyra but that hadn't stopped her from listening to the conversation. It was clear to Marisa, by the way the constable had spoken, that Lyra had divulged the argument she'd had with them last night. PC Byrnison was suspicious of them as parents and though she could understand why, their eight year old had run away after all, she was not going to let him get the wrong idea about them.

Her arms still wound around Lyra as she stood there, keeping her daughter pressed close. A wide, charming smile settled on her lips as she finally looked at the PC. “Thank you, for taking care of our Lyra, Constable. We are so grateful. We were worried sick but we’re so glad she's home,” Marisa told him, her tone honeyed and almost sickeningly sweet. It was a clear dismissal, she wanted him out of their flat.

PC Byrnison looked as if he'd taken the hint, nodding his head and turning back to the elevator. He was about to press the down button when suddenly, he turned back around.

“Forgive me, if I'm overstepping,” Byrnison started, though he didn't sound at all like he was sorry. He pinned Marisa, then Asriel with a knowing stare. “But Lyra mentioned there'd been an argument. That she'd interrupted an argument…Or, gotten into one...”

Marisa felt Lyra tense in her arms and resisted the urge to glance down at her child. There was no doubt in her mind that Lyra had said something she shouldn't have. Both Asriel and Marisa could so clearly understand what the PC was inferring.

“A simple family argument,” Marisa interjected before Byrnison could suggest any further. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. We usually try not to argue in front of Lyra, you see. But noise travels in this flat. Lyra was simply upset,” Marisa continued, lacing her words with half-truths and sincerity.

“I see,” the Constable replied, giving them a nod. He didn’t look like he believed them. “I'll be off then. The station may want to follow up on a missing child however. Someone may be in touch,” he told them, finally stepping onto the elevator.

Marisa, Asriel and Lyra watched him as the doors closed; Marisa clinging to Lyra and Asriel hovering just behind them. Byrnison found the sight of the family strangely unsettling. Marisa couldn't help feeling that Byrnison didn't fully believe them but she knew, for now, he'd have no power to do anything about his suspicions.

“You can't run off like that Lyra,” Marisa insists, for what felt like the millionth time that day. “You had us so worried! Anything could have happened to you,” she continued, stroking Lyra’s hair as she lead her down the hall.

Lyra had just gotten out of a bath and Marisa had washed her, towelled her and dressed her, all as if Lyra was a baby again. Lyra complained only mildly at the treatment before realising that instead of the coddling, she could’ve been punished. So, she let her mother dress her in fancy silk pyjamas and lead her into her mother’s room, fussing over her along the way.

“You need your rest,” Marisa told her child softly, just glad to have her little girl back in her possession. There was a part of her that didn’t want to let Lyra out of her sight ever again but she knew her daughter wouldn’t appreciate her over-bearing presence. Still, she figured she could get away with it for at least the next few days.

“But I’m not tired,” Lyra replied, as Marisa ushered her up and onto her large bed. Lyra relished in the comfort of her mothers blankets and pillows, cuddling into them as she looked up at her mother. She’d only slept in this bed a few times since they’d been in London; her mother had taken to locking her bedroom door.

“I know, darling. But you need your rest,” Marisa told her, a genuine smile settling on her lips as she sat on the edge of the bed. She stroked Lyra’s hair, cupping her cheek gently as she spoke. “How about I make us some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie in here, together. Hm?” Marisa suggested, head nodding slightly in encouragement.

“Okay...can I pick the movie?” Lyra asked, suddenly perking up a little at the special treatment she was receiving. She knew at some point she was going to receive a lecture about her action and behaviour but for now, she was going to bask in her mother’s concern for as long as she could.

Marisa smiled, leaning forward to press a quick peck to Lyra’s forehead before standing up. “Of course,” she replied, moving over to her dresser and picking up the laptop she’d abandoned there the night before.

She didn’t have a television in her room, she’d never thought there was a need for it and she wasn’t one to laze around in bed all that often. But, she did have a streaming service on her laptop, one that thankfully Lyra knew how to use. She deposited the laptop on the bed, opening it and putting in the password before finding the appropriate site, only then turning it over to Lyra to let her use it. Technology was useful but she was weary about how much she let her daughter use it.

Lyra was busy scrolling through movie options as Marisa made her way out of the room. She’d promised Lyra hot chocolate and though it was for her daughter, Marisa needed one just as much. It had been a trying night and morning and as she made her way through the flat towards the kitchen, Marisa could feel the exhaustion hitting her. She’d make them their hot chocolates and bring them to Lyra but she wasn’t sure if she’d manage to make it through a whole movie.

Stepping into the light, gold accented kitchen, she froze for a moment at the figure standing by the bench. She had been so focused on Lyra that she’d completely forgotten Asriel was still there. He was still in the clothes he’d turned up in last night and he looked as tired as she did but the smirk on his face looked infuriatingly fresh.

“Have you just been lurking this whole time?” Marisa asked, moving through the kitchen to start on making the hot chocolate. Asriel didn’t move from his spot, sipping on what she assumed was coffee. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d added a little something to help it go down smoother and then wondered if she could do the same with the hot chocolate.

“You seemed to have everything under control,” Asriel replied after a moment, eyes watching her intensely. “Surprised you didn’t drag her here with you. To keep an eye on her,” he continued, amusement heavy in his tone.

Marisa resisted rolling her eyes, though her lips pursed a little at his words. He always made her out to be so clingy but Lyra was her only living child. It was hardly a crime that she wanted to keep her close.

“She’s picking a movie,” Marisa told him simply, focused over the pot and milk and chocolate. She gave him a little sideways glance then, the corner of her lips turning upwards in a smirk. “I’d say you could join us. But that’s not really your thing, is it?”

Asriel simply shakes his head. He knows Marisa is trying to goad him and try as she might, he wasn’t going to fall for it this time.

With a sigh, he sets his mug down on the marble counter top and takes a step closer to Marisa. He watches her, while she pretends she is not watching him from the corner of her eye. He doesn’t say anything as she mixes the milk and chocolate and then pours them into two mugs. He lets her dust powdered chocolate over the two cups before speaking again.

“Marry me,” Asriel says. It is not at all romantic or sentimental or sweet. It’s matter of fact, almost a statement. As if he believes she always will.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Marisa snaps then, head turning to look at him with a frown. She searches his eyes, finds that he’s serious and can’t believe the audacity of the man. Her hand itches to slap him like she had the night before.

Asriel simply chuckles, grinning wildly. He can tell what she wants to do by the twitch of her hand. At least he’d be ready for her this time, unlike last night.

“It’s not ridiculous. What’s ridiculous is that you still go by Coulter. You were married to him less time then Lyra’s been alive!” Asriel remarks with a smirk. He steps closer, voice low and deep as he catches her eye, pinning her gaze. “Wouldn’t you rather be Lady Belacqua? Imagine the regard you’d have then, if we made it official? You wouldn’t have anyone looking down on you then,” Asriel teased, a hand coming up to settle on her waist as he pulled her closer. He could see the interest sparkling in her eyes. “Lady Marisa Belacqua. It’s like you were born for the name. We should have done it years ago,” he continues his seduction, barely pressing a kiss to her lips before pulling away. He knows she won’t say yes, not now, not yet. His intention had simply been to plant the idea in her head.

“Yes, we should have,” Marisa says after a moment, voice still light and breathy. She’d lost herself to the moment, had let him intoxicate her as he always had. But she steeled herself against him now, she wasn’t going to succumb to his flights of fancy, not when it’d been almost a year since they’d been in physical proximity.

She pulled away from him reluctantly, her body yearning to touch him and be close but her mind gaining full control back. “You can see yourself out if you wish,” Marisa says, making it clear that he does not have to stay. She ignores him as she makes her way back to her bedroom, the two cups of hot chocolate carefully in hand.

Lyra is snuggled up on her bed, resting comfortably on the pillows with the laptop in front of her. It’s clear she’d picked a movie and by her fidgeting had been waiting impatiently for Marisa to get back. “Thank you, mummy,” Lyra whispers as Marisa hands her the hot chocolate, warning that it’s hot and to not drink it too quickly.

She places her own mug down on the bedside table as she climbs onto the bed, sitting snugly beside Lyra before picking it up once again. Her gaze flicks to the screen, brows furrowed for a moment as she tries to figure out which movie Lyra had settled on. It’s a title she recognises but not one she recalls seeing.

Lyra starts the movie then and they sip their warm drinks contentedly. It’s ten minutes in when Asriel wanders into the room, moving about the space as if he had every right to be there. Marisa glares over her mug but says nothing as he kicks off his boots and climbs onto her bed, settling beside her. Her gaze drops to Lyra and realises she looks thrilled to have Asriel there with them, so she says nothing.

Eventually both hot chocolates are finished and are placed onto the bedside table, out of the way. Lyra is intensely focused on the movie, some children’s fantasy that has Lyra intrigued and delighted. Marisa finds herself the little spoon as Asriel shifts, slipping an arm around her waist and holding her tightly and it isn’t long before her exhaustion overtakes her and she’s fallen asleep in his arms. It’s a sight to behold, Marisa so comfortable and relaxed, one of her hands touching Lyra at all times.

Asriel thinks, for once, that maybe he had actually been in the wrong. He won’t ever admit it but gazing over his sleeping lover and their child, he decides he doesn’t want to lose them. He squeezes Marisa a little tighter, hand entwining with hers, thumb rubbing soft circles over her palm, pressing a kiss to her cheek and lays his head down. After all, he’d not had any sleep all night too.

The movie is almost finished when Lyra starts to hear her father’s light snores. She ignores them until the movie ends, then turns the site off and closes her mother’s laptop, wriggling a little out of her mother’s hold to place the device on the table beside the bed. Turning back around, Lyra grins as she see’s both her parents asleep, cuddling up together.

It’s a sight she hasn’t seen since before her sister died. She’s missed having her father around and she’s missed her mother being happy; seeing them like that she can’t help but wish that they never part again. With a smile on her face, she snuggles back into her mother, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep with thoughts of being a proper family again in her mind.

#marisa coulter #lord asriel #lyra belacqua #hdm tv #his dark materials fanfiction #thesun.5

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upontheshelfreviews · 5 years ago

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Last year I talked about Fantasia, which is not just one of my favorite Disney movies, but one of my favorite movies in general. And if I may be self-indulgent for a moment, it’s also one of the reviews that I’m the proudest of. Fantasia is a visual, emotional masterpiece that marries music and art in a manner few cinematic ventures have come close to replicating. One question that remains is what my thoughts on the long-gestated sequel is –

…you might wanna get yourselves some snacks first.

As anyone who read my review on the previous film knows, Fantasia was a project ahead of its time. Critics and audiences turned their noses up at it for conflicting reasons, and the film didn’t even make it’s budget back until twenty-something years later when they began marketing it to a very different crowd.

“I don’t wanna alarm you dude, but I took in some Fantasia and these mushrooms started dancing, and then there were dinosaurs everywhere and then they all died, but then these demons were flying around my head and I was like WOOOOOAAAHHH!!”

“Yeah, Fantasia is one crazy movie, man.”

“Movie?”

Fantasia’s unfortunate box office failure put the kibosh on Walt Disney’s plans to make it a recurring series with new animated shorts made to play alongside handpicked favorites. The closest he came to following through on his vision was Make Mine Music and Melody Time, package features of shorts that drew from modern music more than classical pieces.

Fast-forward nearly fifty years later to the golden age known as the Disney Renaissance: Walt’s nephew Roy E. Disney surveys the new crop of animators, storytellers, and artists who are creating hit after hit and have brought the studio back to his uncle’s glory days, and thinks to himself, “Maybe now we can make Uncle Walt’s dream come true.” He made a good case for it, but not everyone was on board. Jeffrey Katzenberg loathed the idea, partly because he felt the original Fantasia was a tough act to follow (not an entirely unreasonable doubt) but most likely due to the fact that the last time Disney made a sequel, The Rescuers Down Under, it drastically underperformed (even though the reasons for that are entirely Katzenberg’s fault. Seriously, watch Waking Sleeping Beauty and tell me you don’t want to punch him in the nose when Mike Gabriel recalls his opening weekend phone call).

Once Katzenberg was out of the picture, though, Fantasia 2000, then saddled with the less dated but duller moniker Fantasia Continued, got the go-ahead. Many of the sequences were made simultaneously as the animated features my generation most fondly remembers, others were created to be standalone shorts before they were brought into the fold. Since it was ready in time for the new millennium, it not only got a name change but a massive marketing campaign around the fact that it would be played on IMAX screens for a limited run, the very first Disney feature to do so. As a young Fantasia fan who had never been to one of those enormous theaters before, I begged and pleaded my parents to take me. Late that January, we traveled over to the IMAX theater at Lincoln Center, the only one nearest to us since they weren’t so widespread as they are now, and what an experience it was. I can still recall the feeling of awe at the climax of Pines of Rome, whispering eagerly with my mom at how the beginning of Rhapsody in Blue looked like a giant Etch-A-Sketch, and jumping twenty feet in the air when the Firebird’s massive eyes popped open. But did later viewings recapture that magic, or did that first time merely color my perception?

We open on snippets from the original Fantasia…IN SPAAAAAAAAACE!

It reminds me a little of the opening to Simply Mad About The Mouse, where bits of classic Disney nostalgia fly about to evoke the mood of this upcoming musical venture. In a clever conceit, snippets of Deems Taylor’s original opening narration explaining Fantasia’s intent and music types plays over the orchestra and animators materializing and gearing up for the first sequence, which jumps right into –

DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUUN – I mean, Symphony #5 – Ludwig Van Beethoven

Here, a bunch of butterflies flee and then fight off swarms of bats with the power of light – I can’t be the only one who saw these things and thought it was butterflies vs. bats, right?

It does look cool with its waterfalls and splashes of light and color bursting through the clouds, but this brings me to a bit of contention I have with the movie.

When I planned this review I was going to do a new version of “Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing”, except there were only four major complaints I could think of that. On further introspection, I admit they are legitimate grievances worth addressing. I’m going to get them out of the way all at once in order to keep things rolling.

#1 – This Seems Familiar…

Certain sequences are noticeably derivative from the first movie. It’s as if they were afraid of trying too many new things that would alienate audiences so they borrowed from their predecessor in an effort to say “Hey, we can do this too!” Symphony #5 is clearly trying to be Tocatta and Fugue with its abstract geometric shapes swooping all over to kick things off. Though I love how much character the animators managed to give two pairs of triangles, Tocatta’s soaring subconscious flights of fancy leaves me more enthralled. Carnival of the Animals literally began as a sequel to Dance of the Hours until the ostriches became flamingoes. And Roy E. Disney openly stated he wanted the last sequence, The Firebird Suite to have the same death and rebirth theme as Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria, which they got, right down to a terrifying symbol of destruction emerging from a mountain to wreak chaos.

‘Sup, witches?

#2 – Too Short

Speaking of repeating the past, the original idea for Fantasia 2000 was to follow Walt’s vision in that three favorite segments would make a return amongst the newer ones – the Nutcracker Suite, which was eventually cut for time, Dance of the Hours, which I’ve already stated morphed into Carnival of the Animals, and finally, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, the obvious choice to keep since that’s the most popular piece out of any of them. Cutting things for time doesn’t make that much sense, however, when you realize that Fantasia 2000’s runtime is only 75 minutes. A very short animated film by today’s standards that lasts barely half as long as its previous installment. I don’t see why they couldn’t keep at least one other sequence from the first Fantasia to make things last a little longer and keep in the original idea’s spirit.

#3 – All Story, No Experimentation

Unlike the first Fantasia, all of the sequences have a linear narrative structure that’s easy to follow. Not a bad thing and kudos to you if you’re among that group who prefers Fantasia 2000 for because of that, but again, I admire how the original film didn’t stick to a coherent story the whole time; how it was unafraid to let the music, atmosphere, and visuals speak for itself without sticking to a three-act plot and designated protagonist for every piece.

#4 – The One You’ve Been Waiting For, The Host Segments

One of the things that turned Fantasia off for its detractors was Deems Taylor’s seemingly dry narration. But maybe Fantasia 2000 can fix that with some folks who are hip and with it, perhaps a wild and crazy guy or two…

Eh, he’ll do.

Now, the idea of varying segment hosts isn’t an altogether bad idea. Most of them work well: Angela Lansbury gives the lead-in to the Firebird Suite plenty of gravitas befitting the finale, as do Ithzak Perlman, Quincy Jones, and James Earl Jones, who build plenty of intrigue for Pines of Rome, Rhapsody in Blue and Carnival of the Animals respectively; this seriousness makes James’ reaction to what the Carnival segment is really about a successful comic subversion. Even Penn and Teller for all their obnoxiousness kind of works with The Sorcerer’s Apprentice due to the linking magic theme.

I suppose what turns people off is the self-congratulatory tone and seemingly forced attempts at comedy you get from Martin, Penn, Teller, and Bette Midler. But you know what? They still make me laugh after all these years (well, you have to laugh at Bette Midler’s antics or she’ll come after you when the Black Flame Candle is lit). In fact, I have to hand it to Midler’s intro in particular. Fantasia 2000 came out right around the time I began taking a keen interest in what animation really was and how it was made. For me, her preceding The Steadfast Tin Soldier piece with tidbits about Fantasia segments that didn’t make it past the drawing board was like the first free hit that turned me into an animation junkie (plus this was before you could look up anything on the topic in extraneous detail on the internet, so it had that going for it). If I have to nitpick, though, The Divine Miss M referring to Salvador Dalí as “the melting watches guy” is a bit reductive. That’d be like calling Babe Ruth “the baseball guy” or Walt Disney “the mouse and castle guy”. Plus, Dalí and Disney were close compadres with a layered history. They planned on many collaborations, though the fruit of their labors, Destino, would not be completed in either of their lifetimes. Couldn’t show just a modicum of respect there, Bette?

Ahhh! I take it back! Don’t steal my soul!

So, I wouldn’t say I hate or even completely dislike the host segments. Sorry to disappoint everyone who was hoping for me to rip into them. They’re not awful, just uneven. And if you think they ruin the movie for me, you’ve got another think coming.

Pines of Rome – Ottorino Respighi

The idea for Pines of Rome’s visuals came about due to an unusual detail in some concept art. Someone noticed that a particular cloud in a painting of the night sky heavily resembled a flying whale. So why make a short about flying whales? The better question would be why NOT make a short about flying whales? A supernova in the night sky miraculously gives some whales the ability to swim through the air over the icy seas. Again, seeing this in IMAX was incredible. There’s just one minor issue I have with. This and another segment were developed well before Pixar made its silver screen debut, and unfortunately, it shows twenty years later; the worst cases are the close-ups.

Okay, who put googly eyes on the moldy beanbag?

There are ways of blending CGI and hand-drawn animation well, and this isn’t one of them. I understand the necessity of having expressive eyes but simply dropping one on top of a CGI creature gives it a bit of an uncanny valley feel. They should have either stuck with traditional all the way or made the whales entirely CG. The CG animation of the whales themselves isn’t too shabby, so they could have pulled it off.

Because simply giving whales flight apparently isn’t enough to hold an audience’s interest, we have an adorable baby whale earning his wings, so to speak. Once he gets his bearings above the surface, he swoops ahead of his family and bothers a flock of seagulls. They chase him into a collapsing iceberg, leaving him trapped, alone and unable to fly. The quiet dip in the music combined with the image of this lost little calf adds some genuine emotional weight to this piece. The baby navigates the iceberg’s claustrophobic caverns until he finds a crevice that elevates him back to his worried parents. From there a whole pod of whales rises out of the ocean to join them as they fly upwards to the supernova’s source.

“So long, and thanks for all the krill!”

As the music reaches its brilliant crescendo, the whales plow through storm clouds until they reach the top of the world and breach through the stars like water. It’s an awe-inspiring climax of a short that, flaws and all, reminds you of what Fantasia is all about.

Majestic.

Rhapsody in Blue – George Gershwin

The music of jazz composer George Gershwin? Timeless. The art of renowned caricaturist Al Hirschfeld? Perfection. All this brought to life with the best animation Disney has to offer? It’s a match made in heaven. Eric Goldberg, who animated the Genie among other comedic characters, idolized Hirschfeld and drew plenty of inspiration from drawings, so getting to work alongside him while making this was nothing short of a dream come true. That attention to detail in rendering Hirschfeld’s trademark curvy two-dimensional style goes beyond mere homage. It is a love letter to a great artist that encapsulates everything about him and his craft, and to a great city that we both had the honor of calling home. The story goes that Goldberg screened the final product for Hirschfeld shortly before his 96th birthday and his wife told him after that it was the best gift he could have ever received.

All this to say I am quite fond of this particular short, thank you very much.

The piece follows four characters navigating 1930’s Manhattan and crossing paths over the course of a single day:

Duke, a construction worker torn between his steady, monotonous job and following his dream of drumming in a jazz band,

Joe, a victim of the Great Depression desperately looking for work,

Rachel, a little girl who wants to spend time with her parents but is forced to attend lesson after lesson by her strict governess,

and “Flying” John, a henpecked husband longing to be free from his overbearing wife –

And her little dog too!

By the way, John is modeled in name and in looks after Disney animation historian John Culhane, who also was the inspiration for The Rescuers’ Mr. Snoops, hence why the two look so similar. He’s not the only name who appears in this sequence: Gershwin himself makes a surprise cameo as he takes over Rachel’s piano solo halfway through the story.

Speaking of, my family used to compare me to Rachel because at that point in my young life I was doing or already did the same mandatory activities as she – swimming, ballet, music, sports, all with the same amount of speed and varying degrees of success.

No one can argue that art is where we both excelled, however.

The physical timing of Rhapsody in Blue’s animation is hilarious, though it doesn’t rely wholly on slapstick for its humor. The sight gags and clever character dynamics all weaved into the music milk plenty of laughs, and envelop you in this living, breathing island that is Manhattan.

I speak from experience, this is the most accurate depiction of commuting on the 1 train that there ever was.

Even with such a premise and two masters of combining comedy and art, there is still enough pathos to keep the story rooted. Take when all four characters are at their lowest point. They look down on some skaters in Rockefeller Center and picture themselves in their place fulfilling their deepest desires. Seeing their dreams so close in their minds and yet so far away while paired with the most stirring part of the score is heartwrenching.

In the end, things pick up as the characters unwittingly solve each other’s problems. Duke quits the construction site, leaving an opening for Joe to fill. Joe accidentally snags John’s wife on a hook and hauls her screaming into the air, allowing him one night of uninhibited fun at the club where Duke performs.

“Anyone hear something? Nah, it’s probably just me.”

Rachel loses her ball while fighting with her nanny, which Duke bounces off the window of her parents’ office, which in turn gets them to notice their daughter about to run into traffic and they save her. Everyone gets their happy ending and it ends on a spectacularly glamorous shot of Time Square lit up in all its frenetic neon glory.

And not a single knockoff costumed character hitting up tourists for photos. Those were the days, my friend.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I adore Rhapsody in Blue. It’s easily my favorite part of the movie; a blissful ménage-a-trois of art style, music and storytelling, and it’s so New York that the only New York things I could think of that are missing are Central Park and amazing bagels. This sequence is gut-busting, energized, emotional, and mesmerizing in its form. I don’t often say I love a piece of animation so much that I’d marry it, but when I do, it’s often directed at Rhapsody in Blue.

Piano Concerto #2 – Dmitri Shostakovich (aka The One With The Steadfast Tin Soldier)

This piece has an interesting history attached to it. Disney wanted to do an animated film surrounding Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy tales – including The Little Mermaid and The Steadfast Tin Soldier – as far back as the 30’s, but the project fell by the wayside. During Fantasia 2000’s production, Roy E. Disney asked if they could do something with Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto #2 since he and his daughter were attached to that piece. He looked over sketches and storyboards made for the unrealized Tin Soldier sequence and discovered the music matched in perfect time with the story.

This is the second sequence that features CGI at the forefront. Unlike Pines of Rome, though, it works because the main characters are toys, and you can get away with your early CGI looking shiny and metallic and plastic-like when you’re animating toys.

Hell, it worked for Pixar.

The story centers on a tin soldier cast with only one leg who is shunned by his comrades for routinely throwing off their groove. He falls in love with a porcelain ballerina when he mistakes her standing en pointe as her also missing a limb. Despite his embarrassment when he learns the truth, the ballerina is enamored with him as well. This rouses the jealousy of an evil jack-in-the-box who I swear is a caricature of Jeffrey Katzenberg minus the glasses but with a goatee and Lord Farquaad wig.

“MUST. CHOP. EVERYTHING!!!”

The jack-in-the-box and the soldier duke it out for a bit before the former sends the latter flying out the window in a little wooden boat. The boat floats the soldier into the sewers and attracts a horde of angry rats who attack him, because animated rodents seem to have a natural hatred towards toy soldiers.

Case in point.

The soldier hurtles into the sea where he’s eaten by a fish – which is caught the following morning, packed up to be sold at market, bought by the cook who works at the very house he came from, and he falls out of the fish’s mouth on the floor where his owner finds him and places him back with the rest of the toys. Now the story this is based on hints that the jack-in-the-box is really a goblin who orchestrates the soldier’s misfortunes with his malicious magic. But based the extremely coincidental circumstances of his return home, I’d say the soldier’s the one who’s got some reality-warping tricks up his sleeve.

The soldier and jack-in-the-box duel again that evening, but this time the harlequin harasser falls into the fireplace and burns up. Our hero gets the girl and lives happily ever after. A nice conclusion, though a far cry from what happened in the original tale: the ballerina is knocked into the fire, the soldier jumps in after her, and all that remains of them by morning is some melted tin in the shape of a heart. I gotta say, for all my love of classic fairytales, Disney made the right call. Andersen’s life was far from magical and it reflected in his stories, making many of them depressing for no good reason. The triumphant note the music ends on also would have clashed horribly if they stuck with the original. Even the Queen of Denmark agreed with Disney’s decision to soften their adaptations of Andersen’s work. I don’t know if I’d call The Steadfast Tin Soldier one of my very favorite parts of Fantasia 2000, but in the end, s’all right.

Carnival of the Animals: Finale – Camille Sant-Saëns

This shortest of shorts (clocking in at less than two minutes) kicks off with James Earl Jones asking with as much seriousness as he can muster from the situation, what would happen if you gave a yo-yo to a flock of flamingos?

The answer –

Good answer!

Fie on those who dismiss this part as a silly one-off that doesn’t belong here. Fie, I say! It’s a pure delight full of fun expressions and fluid fast-paced action. Once again we have my man Eric Goldberg to thank for this, though this time he animated it entirely by himself. I’d call it a one-man show except for the fact that his wife Susan handpainted the entire thing with watercolor, making it look like it sprung to life straight from a paintbrush. It’s a simple diversion about a flamingo who wants to play with his yo-yo while the other snooty members of his flock try to force him to conform. As you can see from the still, they fail quite epically. Nothing beats the power of nonconformity and yo-yos (also every yo-yo move featured here is authentic; I love when animators go that extra mile).

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice plays next, but since I already touched on that in the first Fantasia review, I’m skipping over it. The segment ends with Mickey congratulating Leopold Stokowski (again), then crossing the barriers of time and space to inform the conductor, James Levine, that he needs to track down the star of the next segment, Donald Duck. Levine stalls by explaining a bit about what’s to come while Mickey frantically searches for his errant costar. The surround sound sells the notion of him moving around the back of the theater accidentally causing mischief all the while. Thankfully, Donald is found and the sequence commences.

Pomp and Circumstance – Edward Elgar

This famous piece of music was included at the insistence of Michael Eisner after he attended his son’s graduation ceremony. He wanted to feature a song that everyone was already familiar with. Of course, since this was after Frank Well’s untimely passing and no one was bold enough to temper Eisner’s worst instincts with common sense, his original pitch had every animated couple Disney created up to that point marching on to Noah’s Ark – and then marching out with their babies.

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Okay, A: Unless you’re doing a groin hit joke or are Ralph Bakshi or R. Crum, cartoon characters don’t have junk as a rule. And B, one of the unwritten rules of Disney animation is that barring kids that already exist like the titular 101 Dalmatians or Duchess’ kittens, the established canon couples do not in any official capacity have children.

To which Eisner laughed maniacally and vowed that they would.

But in order to placate Eisner’s desire to turn every branch of the Disney corporation into a commercial for itself, the animators compromised and agreed to do Pomp and Circumstance with the Noah’s Ark theme, BUT with only one couple – Donald and Daisy Duck. In this retelling of the biblical tale, Donald acts as Noah’s beleaguered assistant (I guess Shem, Ham, and Japheth were too busy rounding up the endangered species). Daisy provides emotional support while preparing to move on to the ark as well. It’s refreshing to see these two not losing their temper at each other for a change. I wish we got to see this side of their relationship more often. Donald returns Daisy’s easily lost plot device locket to her and as the rain rain rain comes down down down, he starts directing the animals on board; the lions, the tigers, the bears, the…ducks?

Anyway, all the animals and Donald get on board – well, most of them do.

The world’s first climate change deniers.

Donald realizes Daisy hasn’t arrived yet and runs out to look for her, unaware that she’s already boarded. Daisy sees Donald leaving but is too late to stop him before the first floodwaters hit their home. Donald made it back to the ark in time, however, though both of them believe that the other is forever lost to them. I find it astounding that they never run into each other not even once during the forty days and forty nights they’re cooped up on that boat. It’s the American Tail cliche all over again, and well, at least it’s happening in a short and not the entire movie.

Soon the ark lands atop Mount Ararat and the animals depart in greater numbers than when they embarked on their singles cruise. Daisy realizes halfway down the mountain that she’s lost her locket again, which Donald finds at that very moment while sweeping up, and the two are joyously reunited.

“I thought you were dead!” “I thought YOU were dead!”

I kid around, but I truly enjoy this short a lot. There’s so much warmth to Donald and Daisy’s relationship that makes their reunion at the end all the sweeter, and there’s plenty of great slapstick to offset the drama in the meantime. I will admit it’s nice to hear there’s more to Pomp And Circumstance than just the famous march, and the entire suite matches flawlessly with the visuals, though the main theme itself is so ingrained into the public consciousness that it’s difficult to extricate it from that what we’ve seen accompany it countless times.

Come on, you all know what I’m talking about.

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“What? Don’t tell me YOU don’t think of heads exploding like fireworks when you hear Pomp and Circumstance! Name one other life-changing moment could you possibly associate it with…you weirdo.”

The Firebird Suite – Igor Stravinsky

Fantasia 2000 comes to a close with a piece that has some emotional resonance if you know your history. You might remember from my first Fantasia review that Igor Stravinsky was disappointed with how Rite of Spring turned out, especially since he was a big admirer of Walt Disney and really wanted to do more projects with him beforehand. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that they picked his premiere ballet to end the movie on decades later. After all these years, Disney worked hard to do right by Stravinsky – with a few twists, though. Instead of a balletic retelling of Russian folktales involving kidnapped princesses and immortal sorcerers, we have a fantastical allegory for the circle of life.

No, not that circle of life.

A lone elk who I’m fairly convinced is the Great Prince of the Forest walks through the forest in the dead of winter. With his breath, he awakens the spirit of the woods and one of the most beautiful characters Disney has ever created, the Spring Sprite.

I. Love. This character. Her design is gorgeous, shifting from a shimmery opalescent blue as she steps out of the water into an eternally flowing fount of live greenery spreading from her hair in her wake. Wherever she moves, grass, flowers, and trees blossom, fulfilling the idea of a springtime goddess more than Disney’s own Goddess of Spring ever did. The Sprite was a massive influence in developing my art style, particularly in her face and expressive eyes, and I used to draw her a lot. Visit any relative of mine and chances are you’ll find a picture of her by me hanging up on a wall somewhere in their house. Yet there’s far more to her character than just a pretty representation of nature; there’s plenty of curiosity, spunk, determination, and a drive for creativity. I love her frustrated expression when she’s dissatisfied with the tiny flower she sculpts out of the ground and how her face lights up when she morphs it into a buttercup as tall as she is.

The Sprite paints the forest with all the colors of the wind (mostly green) until she reaches a mountain that isn’t affected by her magic. Perplexed, she climbs it until she finds a large hunched over rock figure – or is it an egg? – standing inside. She reaches out to touch it and…

The Sprite has awakened her counterpart, the wrathful and deadly Firebird. Think giant evil phoenix made of smoke, flame and lava. And it goes without saying that seeing this on the biggest screen left quite the terrifying impact. One of the biggest inspirations for this sequence was the eruption of Mount St. Helens (though the shot of the Sprite surveying the breadth of the Firebird’s destruction reminds me far too much of the Australian bushfires going on) and the sheer horror of nature’s irrepressible chaos is fully captured here. But the Firebird refuses to settle for merely destroying the Sprite’s handiwork, oh no. It won’t rest until creation itself is consumed, and the Sprite is reduced to a powerless mite as she scrabbles to escape the Firebird’s relentless pursuit of her. Try as she might, however, the towering monster corners and devours her in one fell swoop.

The forest is reduced to gray ashes in the wake of the Firebird’s rampage, but the Great Prince has survived. Once again he brings the Sprite to life with his breath, only this time she is tiny and weak (the animation of her slowly developing from the ash into her huddled ragged form is breathtaking). Now, I didn’t think I’d get emotional revisiting a small part of a single movie I’ve rewatched countless times before but viewing this through a mature eye combined with the beauty of the Firebird Suite’s climax and its timely message has caused me to see it in a new light:

The Sprite is utterly broken by what she’s been through and the destruction she carelessly caused. She’s lost all faith in herself and in the idea of returning the forest to what it once was. Even so, the Prince gently insists on carrying her on his antlers to the remains of their favorite cherry blossom tree. Where her tears fall, grass shoots begin to sprout. This fills the Sprite with hope, and she soars into the air becoming one with the sky and rains life down on the forest. New trees burst from the earth. The air is filled with leaves and pollen and new life flowing from her essence. The Sprite’s joy and power grow so strong that she even encircles the Firebird’s mountain in all her verdant glory. Life and creation overcome death and destruction. It’s not Night on Bald Mountain/Ave Maria, but it’s close.

And unfortunately, that’s the biggest problem Fantasia 2000 has.

While working on the original Fantasia, a storyman made the mistake of referring to the work they were doing in “the cartoon medium” in Walt’s presence. Walt turned on him and snapped “This is NOT ‘the cartoon medium’. It should not be limited to cartoons. We have worlds to conquer.”

And conquer they did…just not the way Walt intended.

The point I’m trying to make is Walt was breaking new ground and experimenting with things nobody ever tried when it came to Fantasia. While those risks were initially deemed a failure, it eventually gained the recognition it deserved from the animation and filmmaking community. Any attempt to recreate the magic of Fantasia is no small feat. But rather than taking new risks that not even the first film dared, the studio opted to adhere to Fantasia’s formula with pieces that recall if not flat out copy from the original segments. I hesitate to call it a pale imitation or cash grab however because this was done for the art much more than the money (though Eisner was probably hoping it would bring in some bank). There’s even a little bit of depth to it: while the first Fantasia had themes of differing natures in conflict – light vs. dark, fire vs. water, etc. – Fantasia 2000’s theme is accidental but brilliantly meta: CGI vs. traditional animation, a conflict Disney would become very familiar with in the decade following the film’s release. In some ways, it reminds me of Epcot’s genesis. The driving force behind it was long gone, but the attempt to bring it to life as close to the original vision as possible is still much appreciated.

For all my gripes, I really do enjoy Fantasia 2000. Perhaps not on the same level as its predecessor, but it has its moments, oh yes. And believe me, as far as Disney sequels go, you could do far, far, far worse than this one. Fantasia 2000 is Fantasia’s kid sister mimicking its beloved older sibling in an attempt to show it can be cool like the big kids too. But hey, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this review, please consider supporting this misfit on Patreon. Patreon supporters receive great perks such as extra votes for movie reviews, movie requests, early sneak-peeks and more! If I can hit my goal of $100 a month, I can go back to weekly tv series reviews. As of now, I’m only $20 away! Special thanks to Amelia Jones, Gordhan Rajani and Sam Minden for their contributions! I’ll see you in a few weeks when I and review the 1959 Disney animated classic, Sleeping Beauty!

Artwork by Charles Moss.

Screencaps from animationscreencaps.com

Yes, I know The Lion King and Lady and the Tramp ended with the titular characters having babies, but was there anyone out there apart from Eisner who demanded there be sequels to those films that focused on their offspring?

January Review: Fantasia 2000 Last year I talked about Fantasia, which is not just one of my favorite Disney movies, but one of my favorite movies in general.

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shadowsof-thenight · 6 years ago

Text

Had a voice: chapter 2

Summary: For two years you had let him dictate your every move. Dictate your time, your friends, your work. Everything, literally. And for the life of you, you could not understand why you’d done so.

Now, here you were. In a beautiful but still strange city that had never become your own. And you were all alone. It was time to take back your life.

A/N: This story will follow the reader, which in this case means that Bucky does not show up immediately. Slow burn we’ll call it.

Words: 1935

Ship: BuckyXreader (although not yet)

Warnings: none (Vague mentions of past trauma, does that count?)

Masterlist Story Masterlist ***

“So, where would you like to go?” Wanda asked you, as she picked you up from the hostel.

“Not really sure. What do you think I have to see?” you asked, feeling a little silly, but hoping you were masking it properly. Up until her text, half an hour earlier, you had completely forgotten about agreeing to explore New York with Wanda. Therefore you had done none of your intended research on things you wanted to see. Usually you were prepared for things. You'd do research, make lists and now you just didn't know what to do without it.

As soon as she had texted, you remembered her late night promise to show you the city. And you remembered setting a time and date. However, the week had been busy and you had completely forgotten. You hadn't had much time off since you started working at the theatre and this week, you felt it. On Wednesday you had not been on the roster and you just slept, all day long. Apparently you had needed it.

Today, Saturday, was your first weekend off, since you started working at the theatre about a month ago. And Wanda had promised, baring any emergencies with her job, that she would show you around.

You had not seen or spoken to Wanda since that night in the bar. Apparently she had gone on a mission, she had called it, but it was all hush hush. And you didn't like to pry. You also hated to admit that you had no idea what her job was. She had been very interested in you and you felt like you failed in returning that gesture.

“Let's cover the basics first.” Wanda said with a smile and she grabbed your hand, pulling you with her towards Broadway. There she stopped to talk to a vendor and as soon as he pointed her in a direction she pulled you with her again.

Not much further, she stopped and you stood next to her confused. Wanda had a twinkle in her eyes that didn't seem to bode well. She appeared to be up to something mischievous and you didn't know her well enough to know what to expect.

“Here we are” she said with a bright smile, looking up at the big red bus before them.

“You wanted me to see this bus?” you asked incredulous.

“No we're getting on it silly. Let me buy us some tickets.” Wanda said before walking over to a salesman. A few minutes later she came back with a 48 hour bus ticket for the hop on hop off bus.

“It includes a night tour, which it really good. So I hope you don't have plans tonight?” Wanda chuckled a little giddy.

“Nope, no plans” you said, not bothering to mention the fact that you know only her in this city. Or, more precisely, her and your ex. Now he was not likely to spend an evening with you.

Wanda grabbed your hand and pulled you aboard the bus. You followed her to the upper deck and she took a seat near the back, you following her suit.

As the bus began moving and many people started plugging in their earplugs, Wanda began telling you about everything you were seeing. She had little historic snippets to add to all the iconic buildings and streets and also mentioned things that you should explore at another time.

She mentioned going into the empire state building and enjoying the view from the top. And the cruise that would give a wonderful view of Manhattan from the water.

She also made you promise that you would take a bike ride with her through central park and you explore Brooklyn together at a later date. She mentioned she had some great people to do a guided tour there.

“How long have you been in New York?” you asked Wanda as you both got out of the bus at the exit for Ellis Island and the statue of Liberty. This was one thing she really wanted to show you today. She had mentioned being a history buff and seeing as you were one too, this was a must see.

“It's been a few years now” Wanda said a little vague.

“Where are you from?” you asked her and she looked a little confused, before seemingly shaking it off.

“Sokovia” she replied and your eyes grew big.

“I'm sorry. I...I didn't to bring up bad memories” you said quickly and looked down at your hands.

“You really have no idea who I am do you?” she suddenly asked with a small chuckle and you just shook your head confused.

“I'm Wanda Maximoff” She began and the name did spark some recognition you, “the scarlet witch” Wanda added and suddenly it all fell into place.

“You're an avenger...” you stated, feeling stupid now. You should have recognised her before. Somehow you simply didn't match the happy girl you met, with the powerful avenger you had heard about in the news. For a few minutes you stood in silence, as you waited in line for tickets to the boat.

“Wait, so I met the hulk?” you suddenly exclaimed and Wanda could not help but laugh.

“Yes, you did” she replied.

“He seemed so calm, collected,” you muttered and again Wanda laughed.

“He is, most of the time” she winked at you, before turning towards the lady in the sales booth and buying two tickets.

As you switched one cue for the next you fired questions at Wanda about who she is, who she was and how she became an avenger. She patiently answered all of it. Explaining that she and her brother had wanted to stop the avengers at first. And how Clint had helped her see the light. She mentioned an anger that consumed her and you had trouble understanding that this happy, kind woman could have been such an angry girl.

“When did you get your powers?” you suddenly asked and Wanda grew more quiet.

“Let's call that a collection of misguided actions, which led to this end result” she said and you just nodded, accepting that this was something Wanda was not willing to speak off. You had been surprised by how candid she had been so far. After all, you barely knew each other.

“Why did you ask me to join you at the bar?” you then asked and she looked taken aback.

“Should I not have?” she wondered, eyeing you curiously.

“No, it's just...you don't know me” you said meekly.

“Well, I was trying to change that” Wanda said kindly.

“Yes, but why?” you wondered again. It just seemed so outlandish. You weren't usually the kind of person that attracted people at first glance. Which wasn't a bad thing necessarily. You had always done just fine, making friends. At least before you met Daniel. You just didn't shine or sparkle or...well you didn't draw people in like some do.

“I don't know, I just, get a feeling with people sometimes.” Wanda explained with a shrug.

“A feeling?” you frowned.

“Yes, something told me you were worth getting to know” she said with a kind smile, which you returned. As strange as it seemed to you, it was really nice. And you surely were grateful.

As you got on the boat a little later, the serious atmosphere had vanished and you were back to being tourists. Which consisted of enjoying the view, taking selfies and discussing everything you wanted to see next.

When you got off the boat you quickly collected the audio tours and began walking around the Statue of liberty. You unfortunately could not go in the statue and visit the top. Access was restricted, but it did not quell your enjoyment of it all.

After a good 45 minutes, you walked back towards the dock and took a boat to Ellis Island. Here you spend a lot of time reading up on the history of the place. Both deeply impressed by the personal stories that were broadcasted in some rooms.

After Ellis Island you went back to the bus and enjoyed going around the entire downtown line, before stepping out near the empire state building. There you bought tickets to go up and you enjoyed letting the wind sweep your hair wildly around your faces. For some reason, being up so high felt freeing, even though the balcony was practically a cage.

For the past hour or so much of the conversation had been about things like movie-stars and celebrity gossip. Silly things to laugh about. You had been laughing so hard at one of Wanda's impressions that your side hurt, when the look on her face showed she wanted to ask you something more serious.

You just raised an eyebrow in an unspoken question, signalling it was safe to ask. Worst case, you did not like the question and you would inform her of that. Best case, her question was not at all serious or deeply personal. With your luck though, it probably was.

“Besides Daniel, why did you leave home?” she asked softy. By now you had left the building and were strolling along the street.

“I...I'm not sure really,” you began timidly, “I guess there wasn't much left for me to stay”.

“Why not?”

“Both my parents had died by then and many of my friends had left for college and never came back.” you said shrugging.

“I'm sorry. How did they die?” Wanda asked softly placing a hand on your arm.

“My dad, he died years before. He was an army captain, stationed in Irak.” you said, not really sure if you wanted to elaborate on that. Wanda didn't push the subject any further. She just watched you with a sympathetic look in her eyes.

“Mom, she...well I don't think she ever really recovered from that. And then she got sick in my last year of college.”

“Wow, I'm sorry” Wanda said softly. She was no stranger to heart ache, and she genuinely felt for you.

“It's...thanks.” you mumbled, looking down to the ground.

“What did you do?” Wanda then asked, feeling that there was more to the story, that would help her understand you better.

“I dropped out to take care of her. Met Daniel around that time. He was visiting someone in town and we hit it off quickly. He was really sweet at first.” you said smiling ruefully.

“Until you moved here?” She then asked, treading carefully.

“I don't think he ever really meant to stop being nice. It's just so different, going from long distance to living together. And his character is pretty dominant. Which I am not” you explained simply. He had hurt you, more than you thought possible. However, you did not think that he truly meant to be this cruel. Not to say his behaviour deserved much praise. He wasn't winning any awards for it.

“No you are not.” Wanda said with a smile and you sighed. No you were not. You had been docile almost. Which did not help you or your relationship. But that was all over now.

“Did you ever go back to school?” She then asked, changing the subject.

Chapter 3

Tags: @slender–spirit

#Had a voice #MCUfanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes

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agl03 · 6 years ago

Note

Are you still taking Fitzsimmons prompts? If so, I’d love to see something along the lines of Jemma having twins and Deke volunteers to babysit because Fitzsimmons hasn’t had a date night in forever but once they leave, Deke is way over his head because he has never taken care of anyone before, but he refuses to call Fitzsimmons because he doesn’t want to ruin their date.

Hi Anon!

I am, I get to them as my muse permits.

Deke couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he finally turned down the tree-lined drive that leads to his Grandparents home. In the years since they had saved the world, found Fitz, and saved the world again, they had finally settled down when they learned Jemma was pregnant, with twins. Moving into the cottage on the outskirts of River’s End. The pair even going as far to renovate the small guest cottage on the property into a studio apartment for him so he would always have a home of his own and one with them.

He didn’t hesitate walking in the front door and was greeted by the familiar smell of tea and the eerie sound of complete silence. Complete silence was a thing of the past in the Fitzsimmons household since James and Mackenzie had arrived.

“Fitz?”

“Jemma? Are you guys here?” Deke called setting the bag that contained his customary presents down. The silence didn’t last long after that was there was a stampede of footsteps from the living room followed by twin squeals of delight.

“Uncle Deke!”

The pair rounded the corner and Deke only had a moment to brace himself before he was tacked by the now six-year-old twins. Each one talking so fast that Deke only caught snippets of what they were saying.

From what Deke caught James had started a garden with Jemma, Mackenzie had helped Fitz build a new drone, and both were excited that they were taking turns reading Harry Potter to their parents at night.

“Okay time out,” Deke said standing up and scooping one in each arm with a grunt. They really were getting too big for this. “You can tell me all about it but first where is your Mum and Da?”

In unison, the twins pointed into the living room and Deke followed having to stifle a laugh at the site. Fitz and Simmons slumped against each other fast asleep. Their feet were propped up on the coffee table where it appeared Mackenzie had been giving them pedicures before he’d arrived and James had taken it upon himself to use his mothers make up on his parent’s faces.

The normally pristine living room was littered with pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, books, and a familiar bucket Jemma would use when anyone under her care was sick.

“Was someone having tummy troubles?” Deke asked.

“Yeap!” James said proudly as he wiggled out of Deke’s arms and returned to the couch and the abandoned make up palette.

Mackenzie stayed with Deke enjoying having him to herself for a moment. “First Mommy got sick, then Daddy because he was taking care of her, and then Kenzie and I at the same time. I threw up on Da twice!.”

“Da said he didn’t know we could throw up that much,” Mackenzie added helpfully.

“And I’m afraid with them being ill then us they didn’t sleep for a few days. So James and I were doing a Spa-” Mackenzie said reminding Deke so much Jemma at that moment.

“And I’m doing makeovers-” James said holding up some blue eyeshadow just above Fitz’s already hot pink eyelid.

As much as Deke would have loved to see what kind of masterpiece James would make he opted to rescue his grandparents instead. “Okay, Monkies why don’t you two go get in my bag and see if you can find your presents.”

They didn’t need telling twice and immediately ran back to where he’d dropped his bags. “I hope its a kitty!” Mackenzie cried rounding the corner.

Once they were gone Deke snapped a quick photo before sitting down on the couch next to Jemma and gently shaking her. Usually, Jemma woke if anyone so much as sneezed, so for her not to hear him enter must mean she was utterly and completely exhausted.

“Jemma,” he said and she shot up with a start and in turn waking Fitz.

Fitz still half awake put himself in front of Jemma while looking wildly around for the twins before his eyes fell onto Deke and he relaxed.

“Deke,” Jemma said warmly embracing him in a hug.

“I hear you guys had a long week,” Deke said handing a baby wipe that Jemma always had on hand to Fitz.

Fitz wiped his eye with the wipe and groaned when it came back pink.

Jemma grabbed another wipe and set to work helping get the makeup off of Fitz’s face. “Its been a long week. We did a consult for Mack and I picked up a bug which proceeded to ravage our house. Neither of us has had much of a break recently but at least the kids are starting to feel better. Poor things now just want to play.”

Two excited squeals from the entry telling them they’d found their presents.

“Mummy, Da!” James cried running in a stuffed dog under one arm and a thick book under the other. Mackenzie hot on his heels with a stuffed kitten. “Uncle Deke got us new animals and a book on Greek Mythology! Can we read it?”

“Of course we can,” Fitz said opening his arms to James and Mackenzie settled in with her mom showing her the fluffy calico kitten.

“Perhaps tonight after baths,” Jemma added.

“I have a better idea,” Deke said with a smile. “Why don’t I watch the Monkies and you guys go out to dinner, take in a movie, go nap at your old bunk at the Lighthouse. Whatever you like and take a break.”

Fitz and Jemma both looked at him with wide and uncertain eyes. It had been a while since Deke had watched the pair on his own. Usually, he’d have a helping hand from someone else on the team. But before either could voice their concern the twins were jumping up and down in excitement.

“Please Mummy!”

“We can make pancakes!”

“And watch movies!”

“Build a fort!”

“Read stories!”

“Play hide and seek!”

“Get a kitty!”

“What do you say?” Deke asked putting on a pair of puppy dog eyes to match the twins.

Jemma looked at Fitz and after a few subtle nods, Jemma spoke. “If you are sure you can handle them, it would be nice to get out just the two of us.”

—————————————————-

Three hours later Deke realized he had made a terrible decision and it was taking every bit of willpower and love for his grandparents not to pick up the phone and beg for them to come home. Though he hadn’t ruled out using his Shield panic button and have Mack send a team in to save him.

Things had begun to go wrong nearly from the start.

Pancakes for dinner had sounded like a fabulous idea until James had dropped the bag of flour and Mackenzie had pulled the running mixer out of the batter. Jemma’s pristine kitchen now resembled a scene from Frozen with white powder covering nearly every surface. He’d tried to clean it up while the twins ate the four pancakes he’d manage to make but they had eaten quickly and taken off for the next phase of the night. Leaving a trail of white footprints into every bedroom.

Deke had decided he’d clean up the kitchen later, grabbing bags of crips and candy to take inside the fort. It had taken shape rapidly and between the three of them and every pillow and blanket in the house, they’d managed to turn the living room into a very respectable fort. Unfortunately, Deke hadn’t been paying too close of attention to what all the twins brought inside as he’d been shoring up the supports. Finding when he crawled in that nearly every toy the pair owned now resided in there as well, leaving no room for them to sit. Even worse the twins were bored of it, had eaten all the candy, and ready to move on.

“How about we go for a walk,” Deke had suggested thinking a the stroll would burn off some of this pent-up energy…that may or may not be exasperated by the bags of candy they’d eaten.

They didn’t really answer him, more let out another squeal and ran to find their shoes.

“Can we walk to the Jones’s Fruit Stand?” McKenzie asked.

The Joneses were a sweet elderly couple owned a farm just down the road and would put the excess from their garden out on the weekends at their roadside stand. Jemma loved to take the twins down to pick out fresh ingredients for dinner.

“That sounds perfect,” Deke said not seeing how this could possibly backfire on him.

“Just no carrots, or lettuce, or broccoli, well anything green for that matter,” James said earning an eye roll for from his sister. Deke had to agree with him both inheriting Fitz’s aversion to most if not all vegetables.

The twins walked the familiar path, excitedly bouncing up and down as they would run ahead and back to urge Deke to go faster. Once the stand was in sight they took off at a full run to begin to check out the day’s selection.

Deke arrived a few minutes later to see the twins not looking over the fresh strawberries and apples. Rather, peering into a cardboard box with Mrs. Jones smiling down fondly at them.

Mackenzie turned first her blue eyes shimmering in delight as she held a fluffy Calico kitten, nearly identical to the stuffed one Deke had brought back hours before.

Oh no. Was all Deke could think before James followed suit with a sleeping kitten snuggled against his chest.

“Mrs. Jones said they are free to a good home!” James said in an excited whispered as to not wake the kitten. “And she’ll provide some food and litter until we can get to the store!”

“Can we take them home Uncle Deke?” Mackenzie followed. “Mrs. Jones said they are brother and sister and have been inseparable since they were born, and they both need to go to the same house.”

“Please, Uncle Deke?” James added. “We promise we’ll take care of them, Mummy and Da said we could have a kitty when we could take care of them and we are.”

“Besides I said get a kitty and they didn’t say no when we discussed our plans for the evening,” Mackenzie added.

Deke knew he should say no. Bringing home not one but two pets was quite the commitment. But seeing the two so happy and those identical sets of blue eyes boring into his own silently pleading with him. Not to mention looking completely adorable there holding the kittens.

Honestly, how could he be expected to say no?

“Okay,” Deke relented. “But if Mummy and Da say no they will have to live with me at my place and -” He didn't’ get to finished as they squealed in delight and ran to embrace him in another hug.

“You’re the best Uncle!” Mackenzie cried.

“Even better than Aunt Daisy and she got us drums for Christmas!” James added.

“And Uncle Mack with the Play-Doh!”

Deke gave them both a hug. Whatever wrath he could face from his grandparents was well worth it for a moment like this. “You are very welcome Monkies, now lets get some apples and head home. It’s almost bedtime.”

——————————————————–

It was just after midnight before Fitzsimmons returned to their home. They had taken Deke up on his offer not only crashing at the Lighthouse for a nap but took dinner out, having a picnic to watch the stars.

Every light in the downstairs was on and the first thing that they saw was white footprints on the dark wood floors.

“Are those paw prints?” Fitz asked pointing next to his children’s.

Jemma nodded slowly and felt her jaw drop when she entered the great room. The mess of a few hours before was downright organized for the sight that greeted them.

The kitchen was still covered in flour and the sink overflowed with dirty dishes. “How many bowls do you need to make pancakes?” Fitz whispered.

The living room was no better and contained the remains of the fort. The blankets now collapsed into heaps. While the TV rolled the credits of the twins current go to movie, Incredibles.

Three figures were fast asleep on the couch. Deke in the center with James and Mackenzie each snuggled into his side. Deke had flour streaked in his hair on his face while the twins had it on their feet.

It was only upon closer inspection that they noticed the two balls of fluff curled up in the twins lap.

“Bloody hell he got them kittens!”

#aos fanfic #prompt me #fitzsimmons #fitzsimmons family #family fluff

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aroworlds · 7 years ago

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Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Luthyx

Our next aro-spec creator is @luthyx, who also goes by Petrichlorine and MUSE-42. They’re better known on this blog for sharing snippets from an in-progress work called Sanction the Skies, celebrating all things a-spec and dragon!

Luthyx is a transmasculine, agender aro-ace creative with mental illnesses, specialising in speculative fiction and digital art, the latter both original and fancontent (primarily for How to Train Your Dragon). You can find their gorgeous art on their DeviantArt account and their writing at @sanctiontheskies, currently featuring artwork, maps and a wealth of worldbuilding and characterisation teasers. Lastly, if you enjoy Flight Rising, you can check out their dragons under the name Luthyx!

With us Luthyx talks their confidence in their aromanticism, the need to live an authentic life on their terms, the way their characters and worlds become part of them, and writing spec fic as an aro. Their determination to craft and make as they need sparkles in every word and dragon scale, so please let’s give them all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

My tale is a fairly straightforward one. By the time I was of the age that most people started experiencing their first crushes, I’d moved to a different state and begun taking an online school, free of the peer pressure that lies ever-present in most traditional classrooms.

Even then, as I began to develop my skills and passion for writing, I’d already begun to see the influence of the omnipresent Romantic Subplot. It was everywhere: books, film, music, poems. I couldn’t so much as flip on the radio without hearing a disillusioned, autotuned cry for help healing a broken heart. I hated it. I still do.

It quickly became apparent to me that I wasn’t like the others. Every once and a while, my mom would drag me to her church, where I’d be forced to endure the company of undisciplined tween boys and catty, Twilight-obsessed girls. It was the girls especially that caught my attention: the sheer passion and fervency with which they discussed who they found hot, what Hogwarts house they were in, and their critiques and praise of The Hunger Games. I found it absurd to objectify people, fantasy or real, like that.

I think this was probably about the time I began to realize that I was agender, too, but that’s a story for another day. Thankfully, I’d already become a headstrong, independent teenager, and I was proud to say that I was different, that my interests were in something that, in my head, was much more important and much more intense than those of others my age.

I can’t recall the first time I heard the term aromantic or the first day that I applied it to myself. I think, deep down, I always knew, and I’ve always been astoundingly proud of it. To me, romance isn’t the be-all-and-end-all of things, but just another life experience I haven’t had, like owning fourteen chihuahuas or going on a warm summer vacation to the Middle East. Not everybody wants to experience those things, and society is completely fine with it - I see no reason as to why they should feel differently about romantic relationships, but I suppose they do. Dealing with the fallout of that bias is their problem.

I am me, and the me I know will not be held down by stereotypes, will not conform to any sort of life script I am handed, will not feel sorrow or remorse for a single experience lost. I’m here for a good time, and my idea of a good time involves doing what I love. Romance is not on that list.

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

My creative streak started young. For as long as I’ve known it, I’ve been drawing characters and writing stories. Mind you, the first stories were about Littlest Pet Shop figures and were written with the help of my parents, but it was a start nonetheless. Art, in its many different forms, has always been my form of self-expression. I often wandered off into my imaginary world when I got bored, and when I went to sleep every night, I’d often spend hours just imagining characters doing as they do before drifting off to sleep. I still do that every night - like clockwork.

I think it was when I was in my early teens - thirteen or fourteen, maybe - that I decided I wanted to be a writer. I recall turning to my mother one night and saying, “I wish I could write a book,” still believing that I was too young to attempt such a thing yet. “Nobody says you can’t do it right now!” were the words she gave back to me, and then off I started.

The project I started then is one that’s still ongoing now - a series of books I call Sanction the Skies, featuring dragons, wars, and a good hunk of divine intervention. I’ve worked and reworked it ever since that fateful day, improving the lore, changing the characters, watching my perspective of them evolve and change alongside me. They are a part of me, through and through.

It hasn’t been the easiest journey, but I’m still chipping away at it, ever-determined. It’s been doubly hard to follow my dream because of all of the messages about how impossible it is to be a writer in this day and age, and that you can’t do it without a well-paying side job. My stubborn self says, “To hell with you!” and works on it anyway. I want to write, to draw, to forge, to craft, and the world be damned if it tries to stand in my way.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

The only way it’s expressed is in my writing, where almost all of my characters are explicitly aro. The Romantic Subplot is a tiresome, often badly-done trope, and I’d like to steer away from it altogether. I want to show that a friendship is not worth less than a romance, and that a good story can still be told without the boy getting the girl - or the girl getting the girl for the sake of progressiveness.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

Honestly? Not much, at least not yet. I think I may face a bit of pushback in the future because my novel features no romance, but overall, I’ll probably be fine in that regard.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

I rarely connect with them at all, honestly. Most of the discussion I see is either people screaming about amatonormativity or people asking, “Am I asexual/aromantic if…?” Alternatively, there’s people discussing their experience being partially a-spec or aro-spec, none of which I can relate to. All I want is a place to revel in my identity, to be able to talk about anything BUT romance, to form strong friendships.

Sometimes it hurts me to think that the friends I have now will soon find romantic partners, and I’ll be left behind in the dust as a third wheel. I hope my friends won’t do that, that perhaps I can still make myself heard - but who knows? I’ve had no luck with finding any other aro-spec people in my region at all, unfortunately, so the internet is all I’ve got in that regard. I’ll just have to wait and see what the future holds!

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

I find I connect somewhat decently. I write fantasy and sci-fi, which generally seem to be more acceptable genres to have a lack of romance, especially when a pair of dragons are the main characters. It is alienating from many fandoms, though, because they often focus so much on the romantic partnerships and shipping. Almost every blocked tag in my dash concerns ships, kissing, hugging, romance, children, and anything related to those.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

Ohoho, this is a fun one! Well, right now, I’m working on re-writing Chapter One for the trillionth time after giving the town it takes place in a complete and utter overhaul. I’m also working on making a short comic that takes place in the universe of the book but is unrelated to the main plot, though it features characters and locations that may be explored in future books. I want to do the comic in the hopes of gaining some traction and interest in the books, since I’m rather horrible at advertising at the moment.

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

Again, the comic! It’s about a con artist who incurs the wrath of the demigodess of misfortune after a con resulted in the death of a sick hatchling. There’s also some stuff with an ancient, precursor species of dragons and one of their final remaining sanctuaries.

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shut-up-math · 7 years ago

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A snippet of a fic I’m working on

(The basis of the fic is Amanda and Todd’s father gets sick so Amanda returns home finally introducing the Rowdy 3 to her parents and explaining some of the truth about what she has been doing and what she is. Below is a small fic I couldn’t help but resist writing for the wonderful @intricatecakes )

“Moooommmm!! Cross keeps eating all the cookies and there won’t be any left for the rest of us!” Vogel yelled from the kitchen as Cross smacked his hand when he tried to grab another snickerdoodle. Todd was unfortunately stuck between the two as they fought over the last cookie.

“Please…please don’t do that…don’t call my mom ’mom’.” He sighed when the glass of milk in front of him threatened to spill in his lap. Amanda gave him a look from across the table.

“The Rowdy 3 can call her ‘mom’ all they want.” She mumbled with a mouth full of cookie while a free hand pulled the table cloth knocking the glass into Todd’s lap making him jump back when the cold sensation hit. “Mom! Todd spilled milk on the good table cloth!!”

“Amanda made me do it!”

“All these years and you’re still a tattle tale!”

“Wait does this make you and the British guy and your brother our cousin or our uncle? I’m confused?” Cross eyes Todd up as he chewed the last bite of snickerdoodle.

“Nah! You’re too old, you’d be his grandpa. Right Drummer?” Vogel smiled at her.

Amanda started giggling when she saw the wet stain on his pants. “Reminds me of the good old days when you still wet the bed!” She mocked. Todd tried to defend himself but at that moment his mother walked in followed by Gripps who was holding a fresh tray of cookies.

“Oh my,” Mrs. Brotzman smirked. “Todd, honey?” She leaned in to whisper. “Did you have another little tinkle accident?” She turned to Gripps. “Poor dear wet the bed until he was ten. Said he wouldn’t wake up but we all knew it was because he was afraid after Amanda told him about toilet monster that bites boys wee-wees off if they forget to put the lid down. Eventually he started to tinkle sitting down so he wouldn’t forget.” The woman giggled not seeming to notice her blushing son or a hysterical Dirk on the other side of the kitchen. “Mandy-kins was such a terror to her big brother. Thank heavens you two’ve out grown that sort of behavior.”

“Mom!?” Todd’s eyes begged her to stop

At once Gripps, Cross and Vogel exchanged excited looks. “Mandy-kins, hmmm?” Cross repeated when he smelled the instant humiliation. She gave him a threatening look and a low growl rumbled behind her lips.

“Don’t. You. Dare!”

“HEY MARTIN!? YOU GOTTA HEAR TH-Mmff!!”

Amanda dove across the table to cover his mouth but Todd saw his chance at revenge, taking off for the garage where Martin and Mr. Brotzman were still working on the van before Amanda could stop him.

“Wait…"Vogel's face grew serious mid laughter. ”Is there such a thing as a toilet monster?!“

#the rowdy 3 fic #the rowdy 3 #dghda fic #dghda #amanda brotzman #todd brotzman #side note beast is outside olaying with the family dog

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all-about-wannaone · 7 years ago

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3/100 Ways To Say I Love You

Pairing: Ong Seongwoo x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Prompt: “No, no, it’s my treat.”

Words: 3587

A/N: Hello readers! I know that I have been pretty inactive in the past week and that is because I was in Japan and did not take my laptop with me for the week’s getaway. :( For those who are still waiting for your ships and requests, I have started working on them and will post them soon so this Ong Seongwoo scenario would serve as the easing into the motion as I get back to my usual activity. :) Thank you all for being so patient and supportive with me and I hope that this does not disappoint. :) Thank you for reading and stay tuned for more of this series coming up soon!

“I hope the study session was productive today. I know it’s a little heavy on the content, but I bet you could at least remember one concept… right?” Seongwoo asked, sounding slightly concerned.

“Y-yeah,” I stammered, taking a while to comprehend what he was saying. You see, Seongwoo and I had just spent 5 solid hours in the school’s library, focusing solely on the many concepts of Chemistry (whose names I could never remember) and Advanced Mathematics. And these were the two brain draining subjects that I neither loved or hated, but what I did know was that these were my worst subjects in the recent examination. In fact, I was far from the passing mark and it was as if my entire world had come crashing down on me when I received my results.

My parents went ballistic at my grades, breathing down my neck and telling me the importance of doing well in my studies, just so that I could aim for the top 3 universities once I graduated. They had begun to research on well-known cram schools and tutors, who charged an arm and a leg, but they were willing to do anything at this point to make sure that I pulled up my socks and score the grades that they wanted.

Unfortunately, cram schools had only given me even more pressure, especially when I was surrounded by students from the elite high schools such as Daewon Foreign Languages High School; they could conquer the entire Ivy League if they wanted to; or Anyang High School; they could get into the local universities easy, just with their grades alone. Hence, perhaps this was the reason why my grades fell even more, just due to the immense pressure alone.

“Hmm,” Ms Jung, my homeroom teacher, pondered during a short check-in session, as she looked at the possible options I had to improve and look ahead, “If cram schools do not seem to be aiding you in your learning, how about asking one of your classmates for help? Considering that all of you are students, and what more in the same class, perhaps the both of you could empathise and understand each other better.”

“B-but I don’t really talk to the class very much though…?”

“I know you’re soft spoken, I really do,” Ms Jung replied in an empathetic manner, “but this is the best way, in my opinion, for you to get a grasp of your learning gaps before moving onto the second year.”

I sighed at the thought, and even though I hated to admit it, I had to agree. It was probably the most effective way, especially when I had gone through too many experiences with teachers who gave no two hoots towards those lagging behind.

“Okay, the most I could do for you is to consult a student from the class. I’m pretty sure they’ll be more than willing to help you.” She said in an assuring manner, patting me on the back with a warm smile.

And so she did, and I had to admit that she was probably the most efficient teacher that I had ever met, because it only took me 4 days to receive a message from an unknown number.

“Hey. This is Y/N right? Ms Jung just consulted me this morning about advanced math and chemistry, asking me whether I was more than willing to tutor you. When do you want to start?”

I was beyond confused when I saw the message, so I replied, meaning no harmful intent, “Uh… yes this is Y/N, but who is this?”

“Wow, do you not save your classmate’s numbers? I’m offended.” The reply came in a flash, followed by another message, “Anyway, this is Ong Seongwoo.”

Ah… Ong Seongwoo.

Truth be told, he was indeed the epitome of a true surprise and the reason why one should not judge a book by its cover.

He was popular with the ladies (shouldn’t it be extremely popular), the volleyball team’s ace libero and could easily charm his way through a woman’s heart. It was a given that the students would oggle over him; the ideal man for the girls and an object of envy for the other boys. Sometimes, it was often rumoured that even the teachers loved him, especially when he was truly “drop dead gorgeous”.

Hence, to most, he appeared as the resident’s “fuckboy”, perceived to lead wild lifestyles, have an affluent background and probably flunked every single class in the process. However, Seongwoo was pretty much the opposite. He was, what we called, a closet mugger, and he studied hard and well. In fact, he was probably born brilliant since he could understand concepts effortlessly, and could probably score stellar grades despite having no sleepless nights or experiences of burning the midnight oil; which was a norm amongst high school students.

I suppose that was the reason why Ms Jung had assigned me to Seongwoo. He was the top student of the class in terms of his overall grades, second in the cohort and the A-star student in both Chemistry and Advanced Math. There was no other way around it, and besides, even though I had not spoken a single word ever in the year, he was still nice enough to offer his help anyway.

Therefore, we scheduled a time, making an appointment on a Wednesday at 3pm, and I had to say that the first meeting was extremely awkward. I knew he was good looking, but seeing his sharp features up close would make anyone turn into a blushing mess. However, the vibe that he gave was one filled with seriousness and it was intense, but he had every right to, especially when he was going to teach a student who was “significantly weaker” than him.

Indeed, he was baffled with what I did not know, asking me what I did not know from the syllabus first. In retrospect, I was probably confident in 10% of the entire syllabus and the rest passed by like a blur to me throughout the year. Like I said before, there were many teachers that I met who cared nothing for the weaker students, accounting for the state that I was currently in.

Nevertheless, he kept his cool (surprisingly) and sighed, before saying in a slightly dejected, but determined tone, “So… I guess we’ll just refresh your memory on the basics for today. Your foundation, as of now, is nowhere near stable, so before we can advance any further, these are all the things that you would need to know.”

Wow. Harsh.

As time went by, we started to meet more and more often, especially with me having to sit for a foundation test to see if I needed to change classes or not. Hence, for some strange reason, he was all the more determined to teach me, making sure that I knew everything to the point that I could spill all the information in the textbook, word for word.

Thankfully, in that span of time, I had also gotten to know Seongwoo a little better than what I had already known from all the gossips and rumours that were often present in the corridors. When he was not burying his head in the books, he loved to joke around with his friends, showing me videos of all the pranks that he had elaborately planned out, just to capture all of their reactions. God knows what ran through his mind at times, but he would show all these videos to me in the quiet library and it took me all not to laugh out loud at all of them.

There were days when we had forgotten where we were, only to realise the librarian staring daggers into our souls, but all Seongwoo had to do was to reciprocate with a small polite smile, which had also caused her to get a little flustered.

Indeed, behind that suave exterior, Seongwoo was just like any other teenage boy; playful, fun-loving, spontaneous and it was indeed a mystery to how he could excel in school without even trying.

At the end of the day, we ended up becoming pretty close friends and study sessions soon escalated to spending time with each other during lunch, sharing little snippets of our lives and laughing at all the embarrassing and hilarious moments that we captured. Sometimes, it went beyond the superficial and he was there throughout the triumphs and tribulations.

When I was sick, he came over with warm chicken soup in a thermal container. When I was sad, he was a shoulder to cry on, and all he had to do was to provide a comforting arm placed around my shoulder, assuring me that things will get better. When it was my time of the month, he knew exactly what cheered me up; dark chocolate (lots of it), caramel ice cream bars and instant noodles. Eventually, my mother had begun to approve of him, and it was clear that he too clicked with my mother.

“He’s such a nice boy, Y/N. Is he your boyfriend?”

Yep, she was that straightforward.

“Eomma, of course not,” I would laugh awkwardly after that, and she would only squint her eyes at me saying that there was no way she was going to believe it, “He’s… a little too out of my league and besides, isn’t grades more important now?”

She nodded in approval, but that was after she had given me a hint of what she had hoped for, “I understand how you must be feeling, but then again, I can’t stop your heart right?”

Feelings aside, after months of hard work and progress monitoring from the sharp eye of Seongwoo, I had taken my foundation tests quite smoothly and it was finally the day when I would find out whether I needed to be transferred to another class. As Ms Jung read out the names of the students who had taken the tests, Seongwoo closed his eyes and kept his hands together, possibly praying to all the Gods out there that I would pass it. I chuckled at the sight, but kept it together when Ms Jung called my name.

“And finally, Y/N…” I was still standing at this point, anxious to find out how I had performed. My palms were clammy and I swore I could have broken out in cold sweat at the anticipation. Ms Jung sighd at first, and it was as if all hope was lost, but her lips began to curve upwards and she said in a calm, yet proud, manner, “Good job Y/N. You scored the highest in the class for Advanced Math and second in Chemistry. Congratulations.”

That was when I heard loud cheering and a resounding applause from Seongwoo. Despite the fact that he was now faced with judgemental and surprised gazes from my classmates, he paid no attention, shooting me a thumbs up and a proud expression for my performance.

I mouthed a “thank you” to him and smiled at the rest of my class, bowing here and there to all who had congratulated me. Sitting down, I whipped out my phone immediately as I felt a vibration from my pocket.

“Good job Y/N. I’m so proud of you. Keep aiming high and just know that I’ll always be here for you when you need me. Let’s go out for dinner soon as a celebration okay? Indeed, never underestimate Mr Ong’s intelligence.”

I scoffed and shook my head, shooting him a glance and there he was, still with a cocky grin plastered on his face. On the contrary, I could still tell that he was proud of my achievements, and the same went for his own milestones, considering that he had mentioned to me that he was a terrible teacher. Hence, I was beyond grateful that the fruits of the labour was worth it after all, and it was mutual too.

Sadly, we started to lose touch eventually, especially when we were out of class. Sure, we still met up to study and acknowledged each other with an energetic wave in class, but that was about it for the initial start of the second year. We never really shared a common lunch break anymore, especially when our teachers started to band us according to our grades. When he left the class, he would shoot me a sad smile, and I’d just reciprocate the gesture, but wished him all the best through text anyway. Furthermore, he had started to prepare for his the upcoming volleyball tournaments anyway and they trainee for 6 days a week, juggling both their academics and ready for the big games ahead. He preferred to catch some shut eye, and in all honesty, I could not blame him.

After what seemed like an eternity, I had finally received a text from him, asking if I wanted to study with him and without hesitation, I replied with a “Yes!” and I felt my spirit brighten at the thought. Indeed, when one had a friend who brought a drop of happiness to one’s life all the time, it was a little difficult when they were not around anymore, even if it was just temporary.

So here we were, seeking refuge in a traditional korean fast food restaurant, flipping through the brightly coloured menu to see what they offered. I looked up, and noticed that Seongwoo was clearly ogling at all the pictures that the owners had so strategically placed. It made one’s mouth water with the sight of tangsooyook, wholesome doshiraks and golden chicken tenders, and it was clear to see why this was a popular food chain amongst all the high school students of Seoul.

“Good evening sir and welcome to our restaurant! Could I start you off with anything?” A chirpy waitress with the brightest smile greeted.

“Actually… We are ready to order.”

“Oh, of course, what would you like to have then? I can assure you that we only serve top-quality products and if you would like some recommendations, I would not mind to give the both of you some suggestions as well.”

Hearing that, he rattled on his order and I was a little surprised to hear how much he could eat, and most importantly, the price of the items he had ordered. They were not expensive individually, no, but with the seemingly endless list, it was hard to tell how much it would cost in total.

“So that will be 1 serving of tangsooyook, 2 servings of premium doshiraks, 1 serving of mixed mandoo, 1 serving of kimchi jjigae, 2 bottles of Chinsung Cider and finally, to end it all off, an Oreo bingsoo with chocolate and vanilla ice cream?”

He nodded and I was already fumbling for my wallet in my bag, but I was way too slow to possibly go dutch, especially when he had already handed in his debit card before she could even tell us what the price was. He smiled at me when he did so, eyes turning into two crescent moons and whipped out his phone to scroll through his Instagram and Twitter feed.

“Hey… Uh.. How much is it? It’s only right if I pay you back —“

“No, no. It’s my treat. Don’t worry about it. You deserve it, especially after working so hard for those stellar results.”

“T-thanks Ong but it was all thanks to you really. Without you, who knows where I would have been at this point?”

“Sure, I would like to take some credit for your great success,” he said proudly, but reverted back to his soft and gentle tone, “but at the end of the day, you were the one sitting for the papers anyway. Until now, I’m still proud of you and it’s good to know that you’re doing well now.”

And that was when I looked to see a beautiful smile that just made him even more handsome than he already was. Despite knowing him for so long, I still felt a familiar warmth spreading through my cheeks and ears and I cleared my throat awkwardly. My heart started to palpitate against my chest and I leaned back against the booth, attempting to calm myself down.

“Hi! Here’s your food and enjoy your meal!” The waitress was back again, holding onto a huge circular tray of food probably fit for a king. She arranged the food gently and nicely, but she was quick and said before running back to her station, “Here you go, picture worthy, don’t you think? Anyway, have a great night and if you need anything, just give me a call!”

It was amazing how she was still so enthusiastic, even if she was just simply serving customers and taking down their orders, without even stopping to rest for a bit and catch a breather. How I wish I was like that when I attended school too.

“Here, eat up.” Seongwoo said, proceeding to stack my side plate with two serving spoons full of tangsooyook and I thanked him for his kind gesture, “Like I said, you deserve it anyway.”

And that was how our sumptuous meal had gone as we spent time relishing in the taste of the food and caught up with each other at the same time. I knew of the fact that his team had attained a gold medal at the recent interschool games, but it was a whole different story hearing it from the player itself. He opened up about his highest moments, as well as his lowest, and told me hilarious anecdotes throughout the course of the dinner.

As for me, there was nothing much to say, especially when I was only a member of the school’s editorial club, publishing magazines containing updates of the school as well as taking photographs for the magazine itself. Hence, I resorted to spending most of my time actively listening to Seongwoo’s stories initially, before opening up about my recent experiences in the editorial team. In fact, I had also mentioned that the copies were well on its way, showing him a picture that a friend of mine had managed to catch from his volleyball finals.

“Oh wow, could you take pictures like that too?” He asked, after the photograph had piqued his interest, with a curious tone.

“I… can try, I guess? I’m still new to the whole photography notion, but I suppose I could try it sometime.”

“Could I be your model then?”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, nodding, and once again, he exuded the vibes of a boy who had just gotten his very first christmas present. It was clear he was excited, chewing on his food happily with a wide smile on his face.

In the end, we ended up spending more time in the restaurant than we should have, surprised to find out that they were about to close for the night, as well as the fact that we had sat in the restaurant for quite a long while too. After an enthusiastic goodbye from the waitresses, we took our leave and made our way to the train station to get home.

We were in a state of comfortable silence as we walked, taking in deep breaths of the cool spring air and feeling the gentle wind against our faces. The city lights had also attracted our attention, and hence, we spent a little bit of time admiring the sights around us in silent awe. Furthermore, I had never been to this area of Seoul, hence all these sights seemed to give a different vibe, even if they could be selling the same things at the end of the day.

Now, it was the time to part ways, simply because we were going in two directions now. I was heading towards Myeongdong and beyond, while he was heading off to Apgujeong. Thankfully, our trains were not arriving so soon, and we took a seat right in the middle of the vast and relatively empty train station.

“Thanks for the dinner today.” I said, breaking the silence, and he smiled in response, “I’m glad you enjoyed it Y/N. Let’s… come back again, shall we?”

And I nodded, before hearing the sudden familiar whirring of the train tracks, signalling that my train was going to come any minute now. I stood up, but I only felt a tug on my wrist and turned around, only to be faced with an endearing gaze from Seongwoo. Strangely, I could sense a tinge of shyness, which was unlikely from a boy that confident.

“B-before you go,” he stammered, “I j-just wanted to tell you to be safe, get home as quick as you can and… uhh… text me once you’re home. If anything happens, j-just g-give me a call.”

“Sure,” I replied, and started to move away as he loosened his grip, “Don’t worry Ong, I’ll be home before you know it and I’ll be sure to get home in one piece. Be safe on your way home too and I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

He nodded with a small smile, finally realising that he needed to let me go so that I could get onto the train. Nevertheless, I faced the station anyway and noticed that he had made a heart shape with his arms as the train took its leave. Hence, I reciprocated the gesture shyly and gave a final wave, before heading back home to retreat for the night.

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