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dilfdoctordoom · 3 years

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On Tom Taylor, the Current Nightwing Run & Ableism

I did mention I was gonna do a post about it, so here we are. There are some things I want to make clear before we begin: the issue exploded on Twitter on the very first day of disabled Pride month; disabled people have been discussing the ableism in Taylor’s Nightwing run since it began; nobody has blamed Taylor for what happened to Barbara in 2011. We are, however, blaming him for the way she is written in his series during 2021.

I am also going to be discussing the ableism in the fandom in this post. The reactions I have seen, from here to Twitter to TikTok, are showing not only a great misunderstanding of the situation, but a purposeful misunderstanding. The very real reasons disabled people are angry right now have been twisted to make us seem ridiculous and overly sensitive and I cannot help but feel that is very intentional.

Another quick addition: disabled people are not a monolith. Barbara Gordon spent over 20 years as a paralyzed wheelchair user. Stating (and I would like to note, never truly showing) that she is a part time cane user now is still erasing her disability. These things are not interchangeable.

So, with that out of the way, let’s begin.

Tom Taylor’s run is ableist. That is a fact of this situation. He made the active choice to include a version of Barbara Gordon that is ableist caricature. Story wise, the role that Barbara plays could have easily been filled by anyone else. There is no real season, within the narrative and outside of it, for Taylor to include this version of Barbara Gordon, who has received a decade of criticism from disabled people. It’s very well known that this iteration is problematic, to put it kindly, and Taylor is aware of that.

He made the active decision to include her, anyway, showing, at the very least, that he is passively, if not actively, ableist. Passive ableism is still ableism and disabled people are allowed to take issue with that.

That alone is reason enough for disabled people to be angry. But that’s not why things exploded on Twitter.

On July 1st, the very first day of disabled pride month, the new design for Barbara was dropped. After months of teasing Barbara’s return to a wheelchair using Oracle (see: Last Days of The DC Universe, Batgirl (2016), etc), they debuted... a new Batgirl costume that the artist has openly said draws inspiration from the Burnside suit.

There’s a lot of issues to unpack here, so let’s start small: the issue with consciously calling back to Burnside. The Burnside era of Batgirl stories was... beyond awful. The villain of the series’ first arc, was an AI based on Barbara’s brain patterns when she was disabled. It was evil because of all the rage and pain Barbara felt. The actual Barbara, on the other hand, was good -- because she was able bodied. Because her PTSD had been tossed aside. It was a horrifically ableist era that drove the idea that Barbara’s life was terrible when she was disabled; that it was some horrible, twisted secret.

Comics have kept that narrative going. Barbara is seen hiding books on chronic pain; she reacts aggressively to the mere idea that she could be in a wheelchair again, acting like it would be weakness. Whereas Barbara had once been Oracle not because of, but in spite of, her disability, who was fantastic representation for the disabled community, she now acts like it is the most shameful thing in her life.

To call back to Burnside is to call back to that ableism and make no critique of it. If anything, it’s to embrace the ideas of that era.

There is also the design itself to consider. Many people have pointed out the inclusion of a back brace, as if that saves it from ableism -- it does not. Any person who has ever worn a back brace can take one look at this design and know that they did not consult a disabled person. Hell, by how impractical that thing is, I doubt they even Googled a picture of a back brace.

It’s a superficial acknowledgement that Barbara is supposed to be disabled. Something that was apparently thrown in to appease the numerous complaints of Barbara being able bodied; something that no one working on it put any effort into.

When it comes to aids, this is not a new thing for Barbara in Infinite Frontier. She’s said to be using a cane occasionally, that we got a better look at in Batman: Urban Legends, and as any cane user can tell you... that is not a cane that could feasibly be used. It’s another pathetic attempt to acknowledge that Barbara is supposed to be disabled, without actually doing anything of importance.

[IMAGE ID: A segmented cane with a tri-pointed handle with a wrist strap. There is a stripe across the sections to connection them, labelled “solar battery charger buttons”. The text reads: “telescoping antenna doubles as cane or weapon if needed”. END ID]

Dropping this design (which we have now established to be problematic) on the very first day of disabled pride month is a sickening move. The very first day, and DC has doubled down on their disability erasure, thrown in superficial things like a back brace to act like it’s fine.

Tom Taylor is definitely involved in this, whether you like it not. No, he is not in anyway responsible for the events of the New 52 and what they did to Barbara Gordon, but that does not absolve him of blame for what is currently being done to her in his run.

When the design dropped, it started trending due to disabled fans reactions. To be clear: we were directly calling out the ableism in this design. This was Tom Taylor’s response:

[IMAGE ID: A tweet from TomTaylorMade that says: “Hey, @Bruna_Redono_F I think our new Batgirl suit is getting some attention.” He then adds a winky face emoji and tags @jesswchen and @drinkpinkkink. Attached are a screenshot showing that Batgirl is trending in the United States and a picture of the design itself. END ID]

This is him, bragging about how the disabled community reacted. Perhaps before this tweet, you could’ve made an argument that he was not ableist, but after he flaunted the fact that disabled people were rightly furious over this, like it was something to be proud of? No. If you are defending him, you are a part of the problem.

Taylor has included ableist writing in his Nightwing run, beyond the inherent ableism that comes with the current iteration of Barbara Gordon (whose inclusion, yet again, is his decision).

[IMAGE ID: A panel from Nightwing #79. Barbara and Dick are standing in his apartment. Barbara is saying: “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together. I’m happy to do most things -- eat pizza in the park, take down low-level thugs -- but leaping from rooftops seems... unwise.” END ID]

What Barbara says in the panel above has bothered a lot of disabled people. The implication that she couldn’t “eat pizza in the park’ and “take down low-level thugs” without a spinal implant that conveniently erases her disability is... fucked up, to put it mildly. Those are both things that Barbara has done in a wheelchair. The first one is something wheelchair users can do and the implication that it’s not is beyond offensive.

But, let’s leave Barbara behind for a moment. I have previously mentioned that disabled people have been discussing the ableism present in this run long before July -- and that ableism is not only centred on Barbara. Dick is also a player in all this.

Dick Grayson was shot in the head. I don’t believe I need to retread the story, but just in case: Dick was shot in the head by KGBeast, developed amnesia from the event, and went by Ric Grayson for a long enough period in comics. If you have been active within the DC fandom for the past year or so, you know all about this controversial storyline and its fallout.

The Ric Grayson arc concluded itself the issue before Taylor became the writer for the series and ever since his tenure has begun, Taylor has completely ignored the reality of Dick being a disabled man. We understand this is comics, that things do not function the way they do in our world, but still -- it is clear that this gunshot wound to the head has affected Dick massively. We had an entire arc dedicated to how he struggled to find himself in the aftermath.

Taylor is choosing to write Dick as an able-bodied man, despite his canonical injuries and how they would impact his life.

This man is choosing to give empty gestures towards Barbara being a disabled woman (as discussed above, the completely dysfunctional back brace, etc) whilst writing her as able-bodied as possible. He writes both Dick and Barbara as able bodied as humanly possible. That is ableist. He is ableist. This is the same man that said he made a dog disabled ‘in honour of Barbara’. I do not think I need to elaborate on why that is bad.

The least he could’ve done, was get a sensitivity reader. We know that Taylor is not beyond getting people from marginalized communities to consult on his work (see: Suicide Squad), so why, when writing two characters that should be disabled, one that the disabled community have been criticising for a decade, does he not reach out to a single disabled person? A mere Google search could’ve improved the situation massively. In both the new design and the current writing, it is beyond clear that this is not just an able-bodied person writing it -- it’s an ableist person.

He could have listened to the numerous disabled fans that spoke out. Instead, he chose not only to refuse to do that, but to describe justifiable anger as ‘raging’. He treated us like we were crazy for daring to speak out about blatant ableism being parading around of us in our pride month.

Tom Taylor has failed to do the bare minimum and in doing so, he is, at very, very least, guilty of complicity. Again: passive ableism is still ableism.

The argument at hand is not just about Barbara Gordon and the continuing ableism that shines out from her current writing. The argument is about the treatment of disabled characters in his run. It has also become about the way he treats physically disabled people.

We also can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the fandom’s role in it all. I waited a day to write this up, to allow all the reactions to flood in... and I am sickened.

We have everything across the board. Able-bodied people that have actually listened to disabled people, who have supported us (which is deeply appreciated). Able-bodied people who may have had good intentions, but a skewed sense of the situation and perpetuating some of the more insidious lies being spread around (IE. that this is only about the new costume).

There are, obviously, the ableist reactions, though, that we will be discussing here. People deeming the current issues as ‘crazy’, calling disabled people ‘overly sensitive’ and ‘delusional’. Many people have completely glossed over the examples given for why Taylor, specifically, is ableist, and instead have resorted to telling disabled people that we are wrong and should be mad at DC instead.

It’s important to note that Tom Taylor is an adult man. He doesn’t need a fandom to attack disabled people for daring to call him out. He is not the victim in this situation; he has, for quite a few disabled people, been the aggressor.

I have seen claims that Infinite Frontier is a ‘slow burn’, implying that disabled people need to patient... as if we have not waited a decade for less ableist writing. There is a complete refusal from able-bodied fans to actually listen to what disabled people are saying. They would much rather rush to the defence of the (honestly rather mediocre) current Nightwing run.

Disabled fans know that comic book spaces are ableist. We know that both DC and Marvel and many of their writers are ableist. We are still allowed to be pissed as hell about it and acting like the current reaction being had right now is disabled people being ‘overdramatic’ is yet another example of how the able-bodied side of the fandom both refuses to listen to and undermine disabled people when we call out ableism.

We know it when we see it. We always do and we always will and we will always be able to recognize it far faster than an able-bodied person. If this many disabled fans are coming out and talking about an issue, calling it ableism, then it’s time for you shut up and listen.

Stop being a part of the problem and start supporting disabled fans for once.

#barbara gordon #dick grayson #nightwing #batgirl #tom taylor #tw ableism #okay to rb

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marauderundercover · 3 years

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Taking Chances Ch. 23: Stealing the Batmobile (Alt Prompt Driving)

AO3

Marinette looks at her little brother with an amused expression before asking:

“He really stole the Batmobile?”

“Yup. Claimed he was a better driver than me.” Dick says with a snort. Marinette winces.

“To be fair, he’s probably right. You’re kind of an awful driver.” She says with an apologetic smile. Dick clutches his heart and sniffles loudly.

“My own flesh and blood!” He cries dramatically. Damian scoffs.

“Tt. She is on my side, Grayson. As she should be since she is my flesh and blood.” He says with a scowl.

“The pain!” Dick cries, throwing himself off the couch and onto the ground. Jason just sighs and shakes his head, while Tim looks on tiredly. The five of them had decided to hang out at the manor together earlier, which had somehow shifted into telling stories about each other and funny things that had happened. Marinette loved hearing stories about her brothers from when they were younger.

“Out of all of us, I am likely the most competent driver.” Damian says, glancing at Marinette before nodding once. “And I assume Marinette would be the second most competent.” He adds. Marinette’s face instantly turns red- she’d never driven before. Her little brother (who was two years younger) was already a great driver. And she…..was not.

“Oh, uh, I’ve actually never driven before.” She admits. Damian frowns.

“Wait, you’re almost fifteen and you’ve never driven before?” Jason asks, leaning forward. “Like, ever”

“Well, no. You can’t get a license in France until you’re eighteen. So no one in their right mind is going to let a fourteen year old drive around the city.” She explains. She watches as a thoughtful look crosses Damian’s face before settling back into a neutral mask.

“I require your assistance with something. Follow me.” He says, standing and walking out of the room.

“Er, okay.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ll be right back.” She reassures her other brothers. She walks quicker, trying to catch up with Damian who was practically running at this point. He glances at her and raises an eyebrow.

“Did the others act as if they would follow?” He asks. She frowns, but shakes her head. “Excellent.” He says, opening one of the entrances to the Batcave. She follows him, but freezes as they walk in and she sees where he’s heading.

“Damian, we’d get into so much trouble.” She says, planting her feet and freezing in place.

“Not if we aren’t caught. Which we will be if we don’t leave soon.” He says, rushing into the changing room. She stays where she is, glancing down at Tikki peeking out of her purse.

“Marinette, your father would not like this.” She warns. Marinette bites her lip.

“I know, but Damian seemed so excited.” She counters, with a small smile. Tikki gives her an unimpressed look. Marinette watches as her little brother walks back out, dressed in his uniform. He nods at her once and then climbs into the driver’s side. She hesitates, weighing her options. She could go with and attempt to drive the Batmobile, or she could watch her little brother drive away and know that no one knew where he was. Crap. Pushing away every instinct telling her this is a horrible idea, she rushes after Damian and hops into the car, calling her transformation as she does. She grins at her brother, her Ladybird suit had started giving her more confidence than her Ladybug suit. It was odd, but she loved it. He immediately slams on the gas, driving out of the cave and into Gotham.

“Ukht, will you be driving as well?” He asks and she hesitates before nodding. It was the Batmobile, what could go wrong?

---

Okay apparently a lot could go wrong, she thinks, watching as the Batmobile slides into the Gotham river.

“How the fuck did you guys manage that?” A voice asks. She whirls around, wincing when she sees Jason, as Red Hood. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the look he’s giving them.

“In my defense, we were left unsupervised.” She says. He scoffs.

“You little shits left us!” He reminds her.

“Ladybird had never had the chance to drive before. It made sense to make sure that she could drive and to train her in case she ever needs to utilize a vehicle on patrol.” Damian reasons. And yeah, the reasons are sound. But the Batmobile slowly sinking into the river kind of makes his reasons weak. Just a bit.

“And driving into the river was, what, to see if she could drive a boat?” Jason asks, crossing his arms.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hood. That’s a car.” She says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She regrets it, but only for a second because then she hears Damian snort. Score! Every time she was able to make her angriest brother laugh, she gave herself a point. She was so close to double digits.

“Well B’s gonna be ready to go on patrol in less than an hour. Either of you two geniuses have any ideas on how to get the car out of the river and back to the cave?” Jason asks, pulling Marinette from her silent celebration.

“We could call a tow truck.” She suggests.

“Tt. That is unwise. The Batmobile is not a regular car.” Damian argues and she huffs.

“Okay well, last I checked you didn’t have any bright ideas either.” She quips, annoyed with him again. They were good at that. Laughing one minute, then annoying each other the next. She figured it just meant they were doing something right as siblings.

“Ladybird might actually have a good idea, Robin. Unless you want to call Superman here and have him rat you out to B.” Jason says. A devious smirk stretches onto Damian’s face and Marinette suppresses a shudder. She was definitely glad the kid was on her side. Most of the time, anyway.

“Excellent point, Hood.” He says, clearing his throat slightly before yelling. Well, not really yelling. Just talking slightly louder than normal. “Jon. I require your assistance.” A few moments later a boy flies down and lands in front of Damian. If she didn’t know any better, Marinette would assume the boy was another of her dad’s kids. Dark hair, blue eyes. But this kid had a huge smile stretched across his face. So maybe not.

“Hey Robin! I haven’t seen you in ages!” The boy says cheerfully before waving at Red Hood. He turns to her and his smile falters slightly before it’s back full blast. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Superboy.” He says. Marinette grins, shaking his hand back.

“Ladybird, and likewise.” She says.

“So what-” Jon (Superboy?) starts, glancing at the river, eyes widening at the car. “Did you steal the Batmobile again!?” He yelps, obviously shocked. And concerned. Which she understood. It’s not everyday you see the Batmobile slowly sinking into the Gotham river.

“Er, temporarily misappropriated.” Marinette says, glaring at Jason who snorts at her response.

“No, they definitely stole it. And Ladybird here decided she’d try to drive for the first time. What I’m not understanding is why you knuckleheads thought it’d be smart to drive so close to the river?” He says.

“Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly, Hood. Can we please just focus on getting the car out of the river before I’m murdered by Batman?” Marinette rambles, looking pleadingly at Jon. It was odd, begging a little kid to drag her superhero dad’s super car out of a river, but it had to be done.

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jon says, his earlier shock replaced with a wide smile once again. He flies over and grabs the car, gently pulling it up and placing it back on the road. Marinette winces at the water pouring out of the car. She was so grounded.

---

Walking into the Batcave, Bruce frowns at the lack of Batmobile. He’d passed Tim and Dick on his way to the Cave, so he knew they didn’t have it. Which left his two most mischievous sons and the daughter they had so easily corrupted. Hopefully they were just getting fast food or something again. Hopefully nothing bad was happening. He winces. That was unlikely with his children. He rushes over to the computer, tracking the Batmobile and accessing the cameras near the car. The image in front of him makes him pinch the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth.

“Just one day, one day is all I ask.” He mumbles under his breath. Because of course traffic cameras would catch Superboy lifting the Batmobile out of the river. Of course. He sits in his chair and watches as the kids argue for a few minutes before getting in the car and driving off. He tracks them all the way until they’re past cameras, and then he waits. Knowing it’ll only be moments until they’re in the Cave. He sits, silent as they get out of the car.

“No, seriously, he’s gonna know.” Marinette is saying, obviously looking nervous.

“Then beg Tikki to take all the water out or something. It’ll be fine, Pix.” Jason says.

“She’s gonna be so mad at me though. She warned me that it was a bad idea.” Marinette says, and Bruce decides to speak up.

“She was right.” He says, turning his chair to face them.

“SHIT! Goddamn you Bruce, why the hell would you sneak up on us like that?” Jason huffs out, glaring at him.

“Perhaps it’s the same reason that you three thought it was a good idea to steal the Batmobile.” Bruce says, crossing his arms.

“Uh, fuck that. I wasn’t in on it. I went out to try and find the little shits when I realized they were gone.” Jason argues, crossing his arms too.

“Ukht had never driven before. I believed it was a useful skill that she could utilize on future missions or patrols.” Damian says simply, his calm demeanor the complete opposite of Marinette’s current demeanor. She’s obviously panicked and anxious, avoiding looking at him. He feels his former resolve soften slightly. No one was hurt, they obviously felt bad. And Marinette obviously felt bad about it. But still….

“You’re benched for the night. Both of you.” He instructs. Damian grits his teeth but nods, while Marinette looks confused.

“But I’m not even-” She starts to say, stopping as Jason throws a hand over her mouth. “Well, well, look at the time. I’ll take them upstairs and tuck ‘em in before patrol.” Jason says, rushing away with Marinette and leaving Damian behind. Damian turns to Bruce and frowns.

“It did not go unnoticed by me, Father, that you benched the one child you do not allow to patrol. You may have done this in an attempt to not punish Marinette, but make no mistake she will remember this. And she will be on patrol later this week. After all, you only benched her for tonight.” Damian says, nodding at his father before walking away. Bruce sighs. He hadn’t thought this one through.

---

“What was that for?” Marinette asks, frowning at her brother as he drags her to the house. She drops her transformation as they walk, wincing slightly at the ‘we’ll talk later’ look from Tikki. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting lectured.

“He just benched you for tonight, right?” Jason asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette huffs.

“Yeah, but I’m not even technically allowed on patrols.” She reminds him.

“Except now, you’re technically allowed to come tomorrow. He said you were ‘benched for the night’.” Jason points out. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. She blinks before a wide smile stretches across her face. Was she really gonna get to go back on patrol on a technicality? Suddenly, she no longer regretted driving the Batmobile into the river.

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writing-wrxngs · 4 years

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Overnight Babysitting

(Heyo! Been a minute! I’m juggling like a shit ton of one shots along with the long form fic I’m desperately trying not to abandon so that’s why I disappear sometimes. Also being back with my parents is Not Fun so my vibes have been completely off for weeks. I do have something for you though! It’s fuckin massive too, it took forever lmao)

Phil turned to Techno and Wilbur one last time as he put on his coat to go. “And you’re sure you’ve got this?”

Techno nodded. “We’re sure.”

“Positive? I’m going to be gone all night.”

“We’ve got this!” Wilbur said, full of self assurance. “It’s not going to be much different than any of the other times we’ve watched Tommy.”

“Well yeah,” Phil agreed, “but it’s still a long time. I didn’t expect you boys to be alone this long ‘til you were older. This was unexpected.”

Wilbur scoffed. “We’re plenty old! Me and Techno are teenagers now!”

“Right, right. No matter what, I have to go so I suppose I have to trust you two,” said Phil. “You know everything you need to do?”

“Yeah,” said Techno. “We’ve got leftovers for dinner, keep Tommy entertained for a bit, make sure he gets ready for bed, put him to bed and get ourselves to bed.”

“And what does getting Tommy ready for bed entail?”

“Run him a bath, for one,” cut in Wilbur before Techno could answer. “Get him some clean pajamas and make sure he brushes his hair and teeth, then it’s bedtime.”

They actually remembered. Phil had been drilling that into both of the boys all day as soon as he found out he would have to leave, but he was worried they weren’t actually listening. It was quite reassuring really. By all means, leaving two thirteen year olds in charge of a child overnight was unwise, but it was necessary. Techno and Wilbur were capable boys. And clearly, knew what they had to do. Phil smiled proudly. “Alright, I actually think you two can do it now. I have to be going now,” he said. He called Tommy over and picked the boy up to give him a hug goodbye. “You be good for your brothers while I’m gone,” he said.

“I will!” said Tommy.

Both Techno and Wilbur knew that was a lie. They had been alone with Tommy before. As soon as Phil was out the door, Tommy would find some way to cause a problem for them. It was just in his nature. Neither of them could say anything about it, though. Instead, they shared the same doubtful silence and a glance of disbelief.

Phil set Tommy down, and opened the front door. “I should be back by morning, try your best not to destroy anything! Take care, boys!” He said as he left.

“We will!” Techno and Wilbur said in unison. Techno closed the door, giving one last wave to his father as he walked away into the evening light.

Wilbur leaned down to Tommy. “I know in a minute you’re going to become a thorn in our sides but can you do one good thing first? Run ahead and get the table ready for dinner. It won’t take me and Techno long to make dinner ‘cause we just have to heat it up on the stove.”

Tommy scrunched up his nose. “I guess,” he said, running off to the kitchen.

Watching Tommy run and disappear, Wilbur crossed his arms and looked at Techno with concern. “What do you suppose Dad meant by should?”

“Well, should typically means that it might not happen but he’s clearly fairly certain it will.”

Wilbur glanced to the direction of the kitchen. “And if it doesn’t?”

Exhaling, Techno paused in thought. “We deal. Act like everything is fine. Take Tommy to school, go to school ourselves, and go from there. If he’s not back by the time school lets out, then we worry.”

Shifting uncomfortably, Wilbur nodded in agreement.

“That’s not going to happen, though. He’s never not come back when he said he would. There’s nothing to worry about. What happened to the bravado you were showing off earlier?”

“Just a front, you know how I am. I don’t want Dad to worry about us. He’s clearly on some serious business. You’re right anyways. Like I told him, we can handle this, and I’m gonna prove that right now,” said Wilbur, shaking off the worry he had before. “Let’s get dinner now before the kid realizes something’s up”

The two joined Tommy in the kitchen, getting the soup that Phil and Techno had made from their garden vegetables last night and putting it on the stove.

“Look!” Tommy said, tugging on Wilbur’s sleeve.

Wilbur turned to the rest of the kitchen while Techno stirred the soup.

“I set the table just like you said! I even got matching bowls this time!” Tommy said proudly.

Smiling, Wilbur gently shooed Tommy away. “Good job, kid. Why don’t you sit down now, foods almost done.”

Tommy nodded and ran to his seat.

After that, the soup was done, and Wilbur sat down while Techno ladled out servings for the three of them. “Thanks,” he muttered to his brother.

Techno just nodded in response and sat down himself. “Careful Tommy, it might still be hot,” he cautioned.

“I know,” said Tommy. He blew on a spoonful of soup before eating it. After he swallowed he looked at both of his older brothers. “How come Dad had to leave all of a sudden?” He asked.

Both of them shook their heads. “He didn’t say,” said Techno.

Tommy shrugged in response. “Weird,” he said, turning his attention to dinner instead. He was only five, but he already understood his fathers idiosyncrasies. If Phil didn’t want anyone to know, nobody would be told, and that was the end of the story. It would work itself out, so why worry?

The brothers spent the rest of dinner just chatting and teasing each other, just spending time in each other's company without Phil there to reign them in. As much of a pain babysitting could be, it honestly was fun, just to have that freedom. Sure, Tommy’s usual little brother bothersome-ness increased without any real authority to stop him, but Techno and Wilbur could dish back out their older brother teasing more, too. Eventually, they all got done and piled up the dishes in the sink.

Wilbur stood at the sink. “Who’s on dishes tonight?”

“You, I think,” said Techno.

“Bullshit!” retorted Wilbur. “I did them last time!”

“No you didn’t!”

Wilbur stopped before he yelled back. “Wait, did you?”

“No, Dad said I helped out enough with dinner.”

“Then who did them last time? We’re the only ones who know how to wash dishes.”

“We’d know if Dad did because he complains when he does them,” said Techno.

“Did we-?” asked Wilbur, afraid to finish the sentence.

“Oh god,” Techno said, not needing the sentence to be finished. He checked the sink. “Well, the answer is nobody did the dishes and Dad’s been too busy with whatever’s got him occupied to notice.”

“Shit,” muttered Wilbur. “Split the work?” he suggested.

“Someone’s gotta watch Tommy.”

Wilbur shook his head. “No we don’t. He’s at that age where he thinks chores are cool because he can pretend to be grown up. We can rope him into this, easy. Watch,” he said, walking out to the living room, where Tommy was sitting. “Hey Tommy,” he said, putting on a grin. “Wanna help me and Techno with some big kid stuff?”

Grinning at the opportunity, Tommy nodded. “Yes!” he exclaimed, running out to the kitchen.

“Pull a chair up to the counter,” Wilbur said to Techno as he came in behind Tommy. “We’ve got a third set of hands.”

Techno did as he was told, and Tommy hopped up on the chair. “You know how to work this kid too well, Wilbur,” he joked.

“So what am I doing?” Tommy asked eagerly.

Tossing a dry dishcloth to Tommy, Wilbur said, “drying duty. I give you a dish, you dry it. Break one and we kill you.”

Tommy chuckled. “You can’t kill me ‘cause then Dad will kill you.”

“And it’ll be your fault we’re dead,” Techno said in response. “Let’s get to work now.”

The dishes eventually got done, with only one soap fight ensuing between them all somehow, and all the dishes clean. They were all dried too, and all unbroken, so no little brothers were murdered that night.

Checking the clock as he dried himself off, Techno turned to Wilbur in shock. “Wil. Tommy was supposed to be taking his bath like, five minutes ago.”

“What?” Wilbur said, also checking the clock. “Oh god,” he said.

Techno was already rushing to the bathroom. “I’ve got the bath handled. Get Tommy and get him clothes. If we hurry, we won’t be behind.”

Wilbur didn’t really have any choice but to agree. Techno had already set the plan in motion. The two of them had shooed Tommy off to the playroom while they finished cleaning up. He walked down, and found him there still, playing with some playset he had gotten for his birthday. Not even greeting him or saying anything really, Wilbur picked Tommy up, tucked him under his arm like a lumpy suitcase and went back out.

Obviously, Tommy struggled against his grip. “Wha- Wil!” he cried. “What’re you doing? Put me down!” he said, punching Wilbur’s ribs in defiance. “Wilbyyy!” he complained.

“You can’t baby-talk your way out of this, Tommy,” Wilbur said as he climbed the stairs. “We screwed up and now you missed you stupid bathtime.”

Tommy was finally released at the door to his bedroom. He scowled at his brother.

“Pick yourself out some pjs. Something you can dress yourself in, cause I’m not helping you and neither is Techno.”

“Fine,” Tommy said, running into his room. He returned with the clothes he needed.

Wilbur snatched them to make sure that they were a matching set, which they were, and that there wasn’t any reason Tommy would have trouble putting them on. No buttons, no long sleeves, all good. He gave them back to Tommy, and rushed him down the stairs to the bathroom.

By the time it took for Wilbur to get Tommy’s clothes and come back, Techno had filled the tub and already had the bubbles in. Him and Wilbur got Tommy in the bath and gave the boy his privacy after that, checking every so often just to make sure he hadn’t drowned.

Tommy came out of the bathroom, cleaner and in his pajamas. He still wore the same indignant expression he had from before. “Now it’s bedtime, right?” He asked, mustering up as much bite as a five year old could.

“Sure is,” said Techno.

“Wil, you didn’t have to pick me up like that,” Tommy said as he passed by the two and up the stairs.

Wilbur followed Tommy, as did Techno. “Well Tommy, the thing is, you have a penchant for being a brat and not doing as you're told,” explained Wilbur. “Sometimes it’s faster to just use force rather than try and talk you into something or fight with you.”

Turning back to Wilbur, Tommy said, “wait, what's a penchant?”

“It means you like something. Like how you like to change the subject when you’re being told off.”

Tommy just ignored that. He went down the hall to his room and waited for his brothers to come.

Techno and Wilbur just stood at the top of the stairs looking at him.

“Who’s gonna put me to bed?”

Both twins crossed their arms and looked at each other. Of course Tommy would pull something like this. “I handled the bath,” said Techno.

Wilbur sighed in annoyance. “You did. Fine. I’ll put him to bed,” he said, rolling his eyes as he followed his little brother into his room.

Tommy climbed into his little wooden bed and got underneath the sheets. He grabbed his favorite stuffed animal, a raccoon Wilbur had won at a fair and held it close. “Thanks Wilby,” he said.

Doing the obligatory tucking in, Wilbur couldn't help but let out a smirk. That kid knew how to press his buttons as much as Wilbur could press his. “No problem,” he said. “Aren’t you getting a little old for this though?”

Making a face in thought, Tommy nodded. “Yeah… but I wanted to tonight cause I’m kinda scared about going to bed without Dad. It’s lonely when it’s just us.”

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” Wilbur said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “He’s gonna be back before we even wake up, and me and Techno will be right in the next room ‘til then.”

Snuggling into his bed, Tommy smiled. “Okay!” He said. “Goodnight, Wil.”

“Night, Tommy,” Wilbur said as he turned out the light and left the room. He went to his and Techno’s room to get to bed himself. Or more likely, get in bed and stay up far too late for his own good.

Techno, who had already changed into pajamas and was in bed, looked up upon Wilburs arrival. Looking back down at the book he was reading, he greeted Wilbur but said no more.

Rifling through his dresser for a shirt to sleep in, Wilbur chuckled to himself. “Tommy’s something else, y’know? Poor kid just didn’t want to be alone at bedtime. It’s so weird,” he said, finding a shirt and changing into it. “You kinda just have to tell kids that it’ll be okay, but you don’t know that. It doesn’t feel like lying, though. It’s just… the right thing to do. You suppose Dad’s had to do something like that?”

Having closed the book due to Wilbur’s rambling, Techno nodded. “Well yeah, just think about it. I’m sure there’s dozens of things Dad’s covered up for us when we were little. We just don’t remember ‘cause we thought it was nothing.”

Wilbur got into his bed and hummed in agreement. “Oh, absolutely. I just think it’s odd how we don’t really think about it.”

“Well can you think about it quieter? I was reading before you came in.”

“There’s not much else to think about on that subject. I’m just gonna sleep anyways,” Wilbur said, taking his glasses off and putting them on his bedside table then rolling over to face the wall.

After some time, Techno too got tired, and set down his book before doing the exact same ritual. Glasses on the table, rolled over to face the wall. A mirror image.

The two fell asleep, despite Wilbur’s belief that he’d be up all night. Being around Tommy can be tiresome. They both slept peacefully in their room until a sound woke Wilbur up. Crying. Before he could get up himself, his sheets were ripped from him. Rolling back over, he fumbled for his glasses and put them on for a minute.

Tommy. He’d woken in the middle of the night, and was clearly upset. “Wilbyyy,” he cried, “I had- I had,” he hiccuped. “I had a bad dream and I can’t sleep.”

Annoyed, Wilbur pulled his blanket back up. “Tommy, you can if you try. Just get back in bed.”

The boy sniffled and pulled at Wilbur’s sheets in protest. “Nuh uh, I don’t wanna. I’ll be all by myself in there!” He said through tears.

Oh. Of course. The kid wasn’t scared of some dream he had or monsters under the bed. He was just lonely. Little brat melted Wilbur’s heart. “Lemme guess. You don’t wanna go to sleep alone?”

Tommy shook his head emphatically.

“Fine,” Wilbur said, already taking his glasses back off. He made some space on his bed. “Get in you little crybaby.”

His demeanor already changed, Tommy climbed in next to his big brother and snuggled in. “Thanks again,” he mumbled, already sleepy again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilbur said, also setting into bed. “Don't mention it.”

Finally, all three boys were to bed and asleep peacefully. Tommy wasn’t even a pain to share a bed with. Apparently, sleep was the only time that kid was completely still. Wilbur didn’t lose any sleep at all.

Like he had promised, Phil was back in the morning. It was still quite early, long before any of the boys would need to be up. He had stopped in the bathroom first, to get the first aid kit. His little trip had gotten him some bad injuries, but he could fix them up before any of his boys ever knew. And likely never would know. After that he went upstairs. It had been a sleepless night for him, and he was dying to see a bed.

Of course, he had to see if his kids were asleep first. Techno and Wil’s room was the first in the hall, and he popped his head in there first. Techno was asleep, his long hair splayed all around him and flowing onto his face. He looked over to Wilbur’s bed and couldn’t help but grin. Wilbur was asleep, a surprise of course, based on how sleepless the boy usually was, but there was another thing that took Phil by surprise. Tucked under Wilbur’s arm, fast asleep and smiling vacantly, was Tommy. For once in their lives, his sons weren’t fighting or getting up to something. Phil didn’t know what led to this moment, but wasn’t particularly worried with that. Whatever it was, it was just proof that his boys could handle themselves, and Phil was proud. Still smiling, he left the room and went to his own, collapsing onto his bed and finally sleeping himself.

#mcyt #mcyters #mcytblr #mcytumblr #minecraft youtube #minecraft yt #minecraft youtubers #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #philza #philza minecraft #sleepy bois inc #sleepy bois inc family dynamic #sleepy bois fanfic #sleepy bois inc fanfiction #mcyt fanfiction

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dudeandduchess · 5 years

Note

Your Kyojuro imagines are absolutely amazing! You have a great writing style, and put so much detail into everything. Pure gold! I hope you don't mind me asking, but could I request a Kyojuro x reader too? Maybe him falling for a time travel reader form the future? (whether its accidental travel or not idc) Please and thank you. Gonna go back to binging your work now, hope your day has been good 💕

Hello, bby! Thank you so, so much! I’m so flattered that you think of my writing like that. Ahhhh! Ooh, I don’t mind at all. I hope you like it! I may or may not have cried while writing this.

***

Kyōjurō with a Time Traveling Reader (SFW Scenario):

Warning: Angst. Bittersweet (???) Ending

Out of all the places that she could have been on a weekend, the last place she expected to have been dragged to was the Shinto graveyard where her family’s plot resided.

It had been years since she last visited the grim burial site, and for good reason: she didn’t like being surrounded by so much negative energy. Souls tended to cling tightly to her, especially when they knew that she could see them.

And that was the last thing she wanted to happen. Not again; not after the last incident where a spirit followed her home.

However, no matter how much she wanted to tell her mother that she wasn’t interested in cleaning up her ancestors’ graves, she couldn’t. Because she wanted to keep her head, thank you very much.

So, when (Y/n) finally arrived at her family’s burial plot, the first thing she noticed was the ornate box that rested at the foot of the obelisk. “What’s with the box?”

“Oh that. Another family gave it to us years ago. Apparently, their great-great-great uncle wanted someone from our clan to have it,” Her mother answered flippantly, before beginning to unload all of the cleaning supplies she’d brought in her bag.

All throughout the day, the young woman listened to her mother hem and haw at the most trivial topics. They cleaned every inch of the grave, but all the while she kept looking back at the box and consistently thought about what it could have held inside.

“What’s inside? Did you check?” She asked once more, when she couldn’t take the curiosity burning inside her.

It was as if the contents of the box kept calling out to her. So she had to know what was in it. Something was compelling her to open it, but she wasn’t going to defile a family heirloom if the contents would have been something not worthy of her time.

“Oh, just a very eccentric, flame-like haori... and a letter to an unnamed woman,” The older (L/n) answered with a smile. “Whomever that woman was in our family, she was one lucky girl. To have someone love you that much... not even your father was as sweet.”

A flame-like haori? She had never seen one before, but something deep in her mind told her that she had. In some other place, and a completely different time, she had seen someone who wore that haori with pride.

But why did she feel like that? She was just twenty-one; on the cusp of becoming twenty-two. Surely the earliest signs of aging didn’t come in until thirty five.

“Can I have a look at it?” She ended up asking her mother.

And when her mother nodded her assent, (Y/n) immediately took the box into her lap and lifted the lid.

Lo and behold, the sight of a neatly folded haori greeted her eyes. She carefully lifted it out of the box, as the cloth looked to be worn down— even in its pristine condition; as pristine as it could get, anyway.

But the moment she had completely unfurled it, everything went black.

***

And when she came to, she was not in a graveyard anymore.

Instead, high wooden beams greeted her when she opened her eyes. She was also tucked beneath a thick comforter— and in place of the jeans and shirt that she wore was a yukata.

“Oh good, you’re finally awake. Please stay where you are. I’ll call aniki,” A little boy with the craziest eyebrows that she’d ever seen— who couldn’t have been more than ten— greeted her happily.

Even though his eyebrows were the initial things that garnered her attention, her mind lingered on his term: ‘Aniki’.

Was she somehow kidnapped by a gang? Her family wasn’t rich, nor did she have a highly sought-after job, so it was highly unlikely for a gang to take interest in her.

But before she could sit upright and call out to the kid, he was already gone. And when he came back, he had with him a man who looked so handsome that he made (Y/n)’s mouth go dry.

The enigmatic man looked too handsome for words, and the smile that played at his lips only served to add more to his charm.

It didn’t take a genius to know that he’d immediately caught her attention: hook, line, and sinker.

“Who are you? What am I doing here? Did you kidnap me? What do you want from me? And what in the world are you wearing? Are you a soldier?” Her questions flew at rapid pace from her lips, which the man received with ease. His smile never even faltered, while his brother slowly hid behind him.

“One question at a time, beautiful flower.” In any other setting, the words would have made her swoon, but it just further threw (Y/n) through a loop.

“One minute I was cleaning a grave with my mother, and the next I’m here. But where exactly is here?”

“Here? You’re in Matsusaka.”

The young woman’s eyes almost bugged out of her head at that. “How did I get here? I was in Sendai earlier! What did you do?”

That seemed to bring pause to her host’s thoughts, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he mulled her words over in his mind. “I found you unconscious in the middle of a rice field. A cow was eating your hair.”

Immediately, (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair, only to notice that it was noticeably choppier than before. “W-what about my clothes. What did you do to my clothes?”

“You were already wearing that yukata when I found you.”

A sigh of relief crossed the woman’s lips, because she could rest assured that no one had changed her in her sleep. Unless her apparent savior was lying.

But after careful explanation, (Y/n) finally found out that she wasn’t only transported miles away from her home, but to an entirely different era. From the Reiwa Era, she had been thrown back to the Taishō Era.

Her concerns were immediately made more evident to her, like how to get home, and how to tell her mother that she was fine, and where to begin with the search for getting back home.

But her greatest dilemma was something that she didn’t want to admit outright: she was falling in love with the man who’d saved her— Rengoku Kyōjur��.

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man, and so much more. On top of that, he was kind enough to let her stay at his home— even though his father was very leery of her.

Despite all of that though, he still treated her like she was something to truly behold. He always reminded her to get some rest whenever she got tired, and he would constantly send her letters when he was away.

It was his handsome façade that drew her to him at first, but it was ultimately his caring nature that made her feelings stay.

And more often than not, she always found them acting like lovers. She knew that it was unwise to have kept acting that way, but she couldn’t resist.

It had started with simple lingering touches, until it escalated into hand holding, then kissing... and then so much further than that. She’d given him all that there was to her, yet they had never confirmed their feelings.

There was just a mutual understanding between them. Because both of them knew that (Y/n) would eventually have to leave.

(Y/n) knew that it was wrong of her to do so, but she found herself wishing to never return to her old life— if it meant growing old and building a family with Kyōjurō.

But one night, (Y/n) was awoken to an ill feeling in her gut. She immediately sat upright, which woke Kyōjurō from his own slumber.

Her throat was tight, and her heart felt like it was being held in a vise-like grip. The edges of her vision were turning blurry with the lack of oxygen in her lungs, but she tried to push through the feeling— and failed.

Something inside her told her that that was it; it was time for her to leave.

It wasn’t even the physical pain that had her breaking down in tears, all while Kyōjurō held her in his arms. He picked her up gently, and was about to run out of the house to take her somewhere... anywhere that could help her, but he was brought to a halt when the bitter realization dawned on him:

No one would know how to help (Y/n).

It was the first time in Kyōjurō’s life that he’d felt helpless; and it wasn’t a good feeling at all. Especially when the woman in his arms started to slowly fade away; as if she was never meant to exist in his world.

Because that was the truth. She didn’t belong in his time. She never did.

He couldn’t even tell her that he loved her.

He didn’t even realize that he was crying, until he opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was a strangled sob.

But it was too late for him to say the words, because (Y/n) was no longer in his arms.

***

When (Y/n) came to, she had found herself clutching the flame-like haori to her chest, as tears streamed down her cheeks.

And with one shaky hand, she let go of the aged cloth to pick up the neatly folded letter that had fallen to the floor.

Part of her didn’t want to open it knowing that it had always been meant for her, but another part of her wanted to read her beloved Kyōjurō’s words. She wanted to know what he had to say.

So she opened the frayed piece of paper, and what she read brought more tears to her eyes.

Hello My Beautiful Flower,

Wipe those tears away, my love. Please. I’ve always loved seeing your smile; so please, smile for me. After all, it’s what has gotten me through my days ever since that night.

I’m a man with very few regrets, but the one thing I’ve regretted the most was not telling you how much I loved you. From the very first moment I saw you in that field, I knew I was in trouble of falling so deeply for you.

Please, always remember that wherever you might be... and wherever we both may end up, I will always be with you. I promise you that I will always look after you, wherever my next life takes me.

Whether it takes me my next life, or my next hundred lives, I will always come back to you. Because my heart is eternally yours. You keep the flame inside me burning so strongly.

Our time together may have been short, but my love for you transcends time and space; and it will always remain that way.

Forever Yours,

Kyōjurō

#kyoujurou rengoku x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer rengoku #rengoku x reader #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer requests #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #jen writes

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weheirsofdurin · 4 years

Text

@tiredandgrumpymedic

I was gonna ask for drunk Fin, lol I like your dumb boys

@lordofthegoldenflower Because Ratchet Mun is a shipper of us

Archive of Our Own

Boisterous laughter filled the tavern where the company of dwarves had decided to bed down. The group of thirteen were making their way to a small pleasant little village called The Shire. Thorin yearned to see their friend, Bilbo, one last time as the hobbit was aging and had adopted a child. A relative of the hobbit’s named Frodo and Thorin wanted to meet him.

Currently they were about A weeks ride from Hobbiton, if Fili remembered correctly, they were in the Prancing Pony at the moment. It had taken them two weeks to travel on pony from Rivendell, though thankfully this time there were no cave trolls, orcs, or wargs. Not even a wizard, Thank Mahal.

The only problem they did have, were the elves. Fili looked over at the table of them, three in total, that Elrond had ‘gifted’ them as a guard. The elven Lord had pulled Fili aside as Thorin raged, and pleaded with the dwarf to take them. His two sons were getting on his nerves and he was sending Glorfindel - the blonde elf - to watch over the two and not let them burden the dwarves.

It had really been more of a favor to the elf than for the dwarves benefit. Fili could see why though, the two dark haired elves were much like he and his brother had been at the beginning of the quest for Erebor.

As laughter roared up Fili looked away from the elves to Bombur who was in a chugging contest with Bofur, and seemingly falling behind. Glad to see his friends having fun he looked back at the elves only to notice the blonde one was missing. There was no sign of him having gone up towards the rooms, so he must have gone out for fresh air.

Excusing himself under the guise of the same he went outside and took in several lungful's of the slightly chilly air. It would be winter soon, he figured. A commotion drew his attention and he saw the elf on the ground, eyes glossy from the drink he and the twins had been indulging in, and a man towering over him - no, kneeling. The elf was beyond drunk, trying to crawl away but he was very unstable in his attempt and using a dagger to slash at his attack was nothing for the man.

As the dagger was knocked away Fili moved, he made it as the man began to tug at Glorfindel’s pants, the elf’s eyes were closed and he limp, likely unconscious already, “Oi,” Fili growled. The man looked up in alarm and was met with a viscously grinning dwarf, a second later was met with a tungsten boot cap under his chin. Fili likely should have held back, and not kicked the man with such a heavy metal, but the crack of the man’s jaw breaking as he flew back gave the dwarf an odd sense of satisfaction. What the man was trying to do was a serious crime in dwarven society and perishable by death.

The death itself was a ‘purifying’ act. They would take lead and melt it down, refining it, and they would pour it over the convict’s head. Purifying them to enter the halls of Mahal. A painful and agonizing death to match the crime, but a grant of redemption gifted. Satisfied that the man was unconscious, Fili looked down to the elf only to be startled by smoky gray eyes looking up at him. “Lord elf,” It seems he had not been unconscious after all. Probably meditating so as to distance himself from what was about to happen.

Glorfindel began to push himself up, struggling to find his balance and was helped by a hand on his back so he could sit and not fall back over. “You... saved me?” So the elf was drunk enough to have no balance, but he could retain thought and memory - at least at this point in the night.

“Aye, I came out for fresh air and a smoke and saw ye downed.” Shame flitted across the elf’s face and Fili held his other hand out in front of the elf, palm up in offering. When Glorfindel look up at him - reminding the dwarf of a kicked puppy - Fili offered a small smile. “Come, let us sneak in the servants door and order ye a bath.”

The elf’s eyes widened at the innocent offer of help, to hide his shame, how could a dwarf be so kind? Reaching up he put his hand into the warm calloused one and wondered in awe at the feeling. Fili closed his fingers around the hand, thinking that the blush upon fair cheeks was from the drink. “Come, ye need to help me get ye up, for ye are far too tall for me to just heft up.”

Glorfindel tugged at the hand holding his and felt it was firm in it’s hold so using it to help himself he got up. The hand that trailed down his back as he grew in height helped to steady him and keep him from falling right back over. “Master Dwarf, forgive me, I seem to forget who you are.” Glorfindel knew all the names of the company, but only cared enough to know who Thorin was as he was the one leading this trip. Now he wished he had not wasted so much time ignoring his travel companions.

“Tis alright, ye need not remember me.” The dwarf gave up no name and Glorfindel scowled before he was distracted by the hand on his butt. Before he could voice his discomfort he blinked several times and nearly reared back.

“You shrank, a lot.” The poor dwarf was no higher than Glorfindel’s elbow, and as he reached out to help support the dwarf by his back, it seemed his hand naturally rested on the elf’s bum due to the dwarf’s height. “I stand 206 tall.”

Fili snorted loudly at the most random thing the elf had yet to say. “Nay, I did nay shrink but ye grew. I stand 137. Now, come, ye are a muddy mess from yer fall.” As if only now realizing it, Glorfindel looked down at himself and saw that he was in fact, a muddy mess.

Stumbling he let the dwarf lead him into the kitchens where a maid looked over and gasped. Letting go of the elf’s back Fili held a finger to his lips and she nodded, understanding silence was needed for the modesty of the drunk elf. “I shall send a bath to his rooms.”

“A platter of meats and cheeses too.” Glorfindel spoke quickly, and she looked to Fili for a confirming nod. Then the dwarf was leading him again and Glorfindel realized the hand was on his butt again and they were still holding hands. It felt nice though and the elf found himself smiling down at the dwarf. “What’s with that look?” Fili looked away after a moment, his own cheeks tinting.

“I am just thankful that you are as kind as you are.” In the room Glorfindel spotted the bed and went to walk towards it only to be held back by the waist of his pants.

“Dis robe, or ye will cover the bed in muck too.” Feeling the slightest bit shy Glorfindel hesitated and Fili sighed, beginning to undo the tie on the elf’s pants.

“No! I got it!” Swatting the dwarf away his cheeks became brighter and he started to undo his own pants. Finally the tie was undone he pulled his billowy tunic off and tossed it aside then started to take his pants off, a towel was held out to him and Fili refused to look at him. “Oh, thank you.”

Glorfindel managed to get the towel wrapped, though it stayed on it sank low and revealed hard lines of muscle that led down to his groin. Looking up he saw the Dwarf had turned to look at him, and now with wide blue eyes, Fili stared at the hard lines on the elf. Glorfindel felt a warmth in his belly and smirked. “May I lay down now, master dwarf?”

Clearing his throat Fili turned away and climbed to stand on a chair, “Come first. Then ye may. I am going to touch your hair and pull it up so it leaves as little of a mess as possible.” Glorfindel glanced at his side, where his mud caked hair hung past his hips and he snorted.

“I wish you luck. Very little can tame this mess and even then it’s very wild.” Moving over he grabbed a chair himself and sat heavily, tossing his mane over the back so it was free.

“We dwarves have a way with hair.” It was smug and confident.

“Oh do you? If you manage then I shall grant you a kiss, if you lose you shall grant me one.”

“There is no difference, but I will accept the bet.” Glorfindel was taken by surprise at the acceptance and he grinned while blushing bright.

“You surprise me, Master dwarf. I thought you all to be grumpy like that bastard leader of yours, Thorin Oakenshield. Or his nephews. I don’t know which they are but they are likely as much of a stick in the mud as he.” Fili had been lightly tugging at Fin’s hair but now he paused in his work.

“Thorin is nay that bad. Tis the stress of travel and being away from Erebor. Tis still a budding kingdom and for him and his heirs to leave now seem unwise to those that live there, but the hobbit is aging and he will nay live as long as our race. Tis said he is already fairly old for his kind. Un- er- Thorin is worried about a lot at the moment. His kingdom, his friend, the one he is trying to woo, a lot is upon his shoulders even if the crown is not there.”

Glorfindel hummed and got lost in thought. So the King under the Mountain was stressed and not just a bastard. “I did not know. Forgive me.”

“Nay, there is naught for you to ask forgiveness for. Thorin is a stick in the mud often. But he is nay a bastard, not once you get to know him. He has needed to close his heart off to others as the loss of friends and family has been great upon him.” Fili gave a solid tug on Fin’s hair and the elf felt surprise at the rougher treatment, but then a twig was toss to the side and Fili patted his shoulder. “All done, tis tamed for now.”

Reaching up Glorfindel made a sound of surprise. He knew he had lost no hair, yet it was all up and not a knotted mess- well not more than it started as. He could feel braids that tamed parts of it while the rest was twisted intricately into a thick bun with the braids wrapping it and holding it.

“Ye must teach me this, tis solid and will not fall out upon battle!” It wouldn’t bother him in meetings, or upon horseback, even for a quick soak in a hot spring! It wouldn’t get wet or messed up like this and on the days he cared not to dry the mass he could easily put it up as such if he knew how!

“Nay, ye are too drunk now. Perhaps the next time I see ye.” Fili hopped off the chair and tugged at the elf. “Tis time for ye to lay down though, yer bath will be here in an hour still along with yer food.”

“Do not leave, Master Dwarf. Please, keep me company.”

“Ye are far too drunk for me to entertain that thought.” Glorfindel looked confused then blushed bright. He hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. “Do nay look so alarmed, I will be back but my companions must be curious as to where I have gone. I do nay trust ye to not drown in the bath so I will come. Ye have my word.” With that, Fili turned and left as fast as he had come.

The elf turned and staggered to his chest of belongings, collapsing to his knees in front of it before beginning to rummage through it. What was with him? Lusting after a dwarf who had saved him. Yearning for hands small but thick and strong to trail over the lines he had worked hard to carve into his body. Groaning at himself he grabbed the bottle he had in his chest and stumbled to the desk where he poured two glasses. He would offer one to the dwarf upon his return as thanks for all that had happened.

This wine was special to his people and he wished to share it. Lifting the bottle he took a sip from it’s lips and smiled before corking it and putting it on the desk. Falling onto the bed he pulled the pillow close and buried his face into it. He couldn’t wait for his bath to arrive.

#ficlet #bibi writes #fili #glorfindel #my fic #prologue #tw: attempted rape

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writemywaytoyourheart · 5 years

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BTS Reaction: You Have An Asthma Attack | Maknae Line

Requested: yes! @sweetbtsboys I hope you like this! Sorry it took literally so long.

Genre: fluff

Warnings: none :)

Hyung line coming soon <3

PARK JIMIN:

You stand there in shock as confusion and dread washes through you. You have no idea what to do and all you can focus on is the back of your best friend, the only boy you've ever loved, as he walks away from you dejectedly.

He just took you by complete surprise by confessing to you. You never thought he'd feel that way about you, so you've always pushed your feelings down again and again for years.

"Y/n...I think I'm in love with you. No, no I am in love with you."

"I- what?"

"I mean-...yeah."

He wrings his hands anxiously awaiting your answer, while your head is spinning as you try to find the right words to accept his confession. After a minute of silence Jimin sighs and hangs his head, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm such an idiot, gosh I'm so stupid." You look up in shock and shake your head, the words still stuck in your throat. But, Jimin doesn't see your panicked expression as he's staring at the ground in embarrassment.

Then to your horror; Jimin sucks in a shaky breath and moves to turn away. "I'm really sorry, y/n. I shouldn't have said it. I ruined everything didn't I? Just- just pretend this didn't happen...please." Jimin turns away before you can grab him. Why won't the words you want to speak come out? Why can't you call to him and tell him to wait? Tell him you feel the same and have for years.

When the shock finally wears off and your head clears, you shake your it and blink. Then, you see Jimin disappear behind a corner.

No.

No no no.

You spring into action and run after him as fast as you can.

"Jimin! Jimin wait!" You call out to him, but he doesn't hear you. You turn the corner and see a bunch of people walking here and there as you scan the crowd in a panic.

You start to push through people carefully, when you see the back of his brown head going further away as he walks at a brisk pace.

The crowd finally breaks and you sprint for all your worth, not giving your asthma a second thought.

How is he so fast?

You think desperately as you run, your lungs already starting to ache and burn. Then it hits you like a wave; there's a horrible pinching in your chest and you gasp for air, but you can't stop running. You won't.

"Jimin! Park Jimin, stop!" You holler with the last of your breath. He stops suddenly and turns at the sound of your urgent voice.

"Y/n?" He looks at you in confusion, then he hurries toward you when he sees the state you're in. He takes your hands and helps you to a bench.

"Oh my gosh, y/n are you okay? Why were you running?" You mime to him that you can't breathe and he nods, rubbing your back gently.

"You're having an attack, aren't you?" You nod and he bites his lip in worry. "Do you have your inhaler?" He feels guilty that you rn to catch up with him, and panic as he sees you struggling to get a breath in. You shake your head and his heart drops, then he pulls himself together and takes your hands gently.

"Ok then. Just breathe with me, alright?" At your nod of confirmation, he starts to take slow deep breaths, counting and blowing out again and again. Eventually you're able to keep pace with him as you two look at each other and breathe deeply. After a couple minutes you can breathe, but you're still wheezing a bit.

"Are you okay, y/n?"

"You're an idiot, Park Jimin." You choke out and he looks down at the ground.

"I know. I'm sorry, I ruined ev-"

"No. You're an idiot to think I don't feel the same about you."

Jimin's eyes nearly pop out of his head and you try to bite back a smile. "W-what? I don't- you don't-... You don't hate me?" You roll your eyes and surprise both of you when you wrap your arms around him and hold on tightly.

"Of course not. I-...I love you."

Jimin hugs you back and blinks back his tears, not wanting you to know about them.

"We should probably go get your inhaler, love." You blush at what he calls you and nod awkwardly, "Yeah, that's a good idea." Jimin takes your hand and envelopes it in his, helping you stand.

"You shouldn't have run after me like that."

"What was I supposed to do? Let you go thinking I hated you?"

"We have phones you know. You could've called or texted me to come back."

"Oh shut up."

Either way, you can bet he isn't going to let you be running again anytime soon.

KIM TAEHYUNG:

"Jagi, I told you a thousand times. Get off that scale right now." You pout when your husband walks over and lifts you off the little scale in your bathroom, carrying you into the living room and plopping you on the couch. "But, Tae! I gained another pound and a half. I just need to-" Taehyung cuts you off with a look, a very angry look.

"You need to stop this. I'm not kidding around y/n." You can tell he's hurt and you feel ashamed of the way you've been acting. You skipped a few meals and kept checking your weight, making comments about how fat you are. You never considered the fact that maybe it would have an affect on your husband too. He always tells you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, but you never accept it.

That has to weigh on him a lot.

Suddenly you're crying, out of the guilt you feel for putting him through all that. Taehyung kneels and wipes your tears away softly, "y/n, baby. Please just talk to me." You sniffle and shrug, "I don't know. I just don't feel good in my body. I don't feel healthy." Taehyung nods in understanding, "you mean because of how tired and cruddy you always feel?" You nod and he stands up to pull you to your feet.

"Then, we'll both start eating healthier and we can go on morning jogs. I don't feel my best these days either. Sound like a deal?" You nod excitedly and hug him tightly, "yes! That'll be fun!" Tae laughs as you two go to the room to get some sleep before your first jog the next day.

You're totally hyped up and ready; you've got your tennis shoes on and your headphones ready. You're a little nervous because you have asthma, but it shouldn't act up if you two take it easy.

Apparently that doesn't matter though, because the cold air gets to you about five minutes into the jog. Tae is going like a pro, headphones in his ears and he's not struggling at all. You on the other hand; are struggling to breathe as you stop to catch your breath. You hold your hand up to tell Taehyung to slow the heck down, and he sees you aren't next to him. Tae stops and jogs back to you, "you alright, jagi?" He looks at you knowingly and takes your hand, leading you to a bench. When you both sit down he pats your back gently, "asthma attack?" You nod and he pulls out your inhaler from one of his pockets. You look at him in surprise and he shrugs, "I know you better than you know yourself, baby. This cold air is a bit-"

"Taehyung!" You laugh and he chuckles along with you, smiling sweetly at you as you take a few puffs from your inhaler. After a couple minutes you give him a thumbs up and he nods, "all better?" You shake your head yes and stand up, "I'm okay, let's go now." Before you can start jogging again, Tae grabs your hand and starts to walk slowly with you. You look at him, confused. He smiles and shrugs, "I think maybe we should do daily walks instead, and for the cold weather we'll take shorter ones." You nod in agreement and smile at the warmth his big hand envelopes yours in as you two stroll and watch the sunrise.

JEON JUNGKOOK:

You can't stop the laughs bursting from your lips as you run as fast as you can away from your boyfriend. Jungkook and you decided to have a picnic today, so you packed up some food and came to this big field that's always empty. You two found the field one day and now it's your special place.

"I'm gonna get you, y/n!" You squeal and pump your arms harder than before, your sundress flapping in the wind while Jungkook laughs behind you at your cuteness. As you're running around in circles avoiding his grasp, your chest starts feeling tight and your breaths get shorter. You know an asthma attack is coming on, but you unwisely ignore it. You don't want it to ruin your fun day with Jungkook. Besides, you have your inhaler in your purse and a few puffs will fix it all.

Another minute passes and you start to slow down, grabbing your chest to help the air go in. Your chest has a sharp pain everytime you breathe in.

Jungkook notices your change in behavior and slows to a stop, "y/n? You okay, baby?" You nod and smile while waving him off with a laugh, "I'm fine! Just hungry." Jungkook smiles and points at the basket on the blanket laid out, "Ok then, let's eat! Come here." You walk into his open arms and he kisses your head, wrapping his arms around you. Suddenly, you're coughing uncontrollably and the wheezing has started. You sit on the ground and try to breathe slowly, but it's not helping. You can't get enough air in and the pain in your chest is excruciating. Jungkook plops down next to you with concern written all over his face, "y/n? What's going on? How can I help you, baby?" You never told him about how bad your asthma is; you usually use your inhaler and you don't run a lot, so the poor boy is at a complete loss of what's going on right now.

You point to your chest and manage to wheeze out, "a-asthma..." Jungkook's eyes widen and he scoots closer to you, "what do I do? Baby, tell me how to help you." You point at your purse and mouth 'inhaler' before another coughing fit wracks your body. Jungkook quickly crawls over the blanket to your purse, opening it and pulling out your inhaler, then he rushes back and hands it to you gently. He rubs your back soothingly while you take a puff.

But nothing comes out.

You look down in a panic, it can't be out already!! But it is. The little inhaler has a "0" on it while you stare at the place where the number of puffs is. Jungkook sees your face and looks down at it, "what's the matter? Is it not working?" You shake your head and cough out, "it r-ran out." Jungkook tries not to panic, but his mind is spinning in circles.

Then he takes a deep breath and nods, "ok well, we don't need it. All we need is to stay calm until we get another one, ok?" You nod and he tells you to take as deep breaths as you can, counting with you as he cleans up the picnic. Then he stands up, grabbing the basket and blanket and motioning for you to stand.

Jungkook has you get on his back while he holds the picnic stuff. You climb on and he walks you to the car, counting your breaths the whole way. He even carries you up the stairs to your apartment where you grab your spare inhaler and take a couple puffs.

"Thank you, Kookie." You hug him once your breathing has regulated again, and he kisses you gently.

"Love you, y/n. Make sure you tell me anything else like this, I just want to help you." You nod and he embraces you softly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long. I hope you guys that requested these things are still here and see them :((

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

#3 with Sternclay? If you could, from Stern’s perspective? He’s one of my favorite characters and I love how you write him :)

Thanks, I love writing from his perspective! Prompt 3 was “Song” and went with SFW

Joseph Stern has more house than he knows what to do with. His father has given him this building on the coast of Virginia, no doubt in hopes of hiding his eccentric--and only remaining--son from polite society.

But the house may as well be a cave, a country full of strangers, a vast and cold space that Stern has no idea how to fill beyond the ghosts of the past it already contains. He has no lovers, no children, and the servants, used to his father’s temperament rather than his, give him a wide berth. And so he fills it with his books, his research into the strange and unusual, politely eats the meals the elderly cook prepares even though his eyesight seems to have given him the habit of mistaking one spice for another.

He’s also taken to having a nightly constitutional along the beach. It’s stormy and grey more often than not, but it suits his mood. Usually he’s perfectly alone. But tonight he must not be, because on the wind, he hears someone singing.

While the raging seas did roar

And the stormy winds they did blow,

And we jolly sailor boys was up, up aloft

And the landlubbers lying down below, below, below,

And the landlubbers lying down below.

It’s a rich baritone, longing and sad, and Stern wanders the beach up and down twice before he gives up on finding the singer. He resigns himself to it being a one time occurrence.

But the next night, the voice finds him again.

As we lay musing on our bed,

So early morn at ease,

We thought upon those lodging beds

Poor sailors have at sea.

This time he follows it through the second chorus of the song. And there, in the fading grey light of evening, a man is perched on an outcropping of rocks. He has shaggy hair, and even in the poor light Stern catches sight of copper within it. His beard is messy, and he’s bare-chested, a baffling choice in this weather.

As Stern makes his way across a nearby patch of rising tide, he loses his balance and splashes onto his knees.

By the time he looks up, the song is over and the man is gone, though he sees no sign of him upon the beach.

The third night, Stern is ready. He finds the outcropping, hiding himself down out of view of all but one side of the shore and sea.

Just as he’s starting to shiver and curse his poor judgement, a low, sweet humming begins. It’s the same melody, and he wants to dive into the voice, let it drown him if need be. The man hums a good portion of the song before his voice carries across the windy shore.

I'm sorry for my mother dear,

I'm lost in the salt, salt sea.

For last night, last night, the moon shone bright,

And you know that she had sons five,

Tonight she may look in the salt, salt waves

And find but one alive, alive,

And find but one alive.

The singing ceases, and in it’s place he hears a sigh. Cautiously, he sits so that the man can see him.

“That was wonderful.”

The man starts, turns to leave and Stern, in a moment of unusual impulsiveness, grabs his arm, “Wait, please, I just wanted...to..say…” He stares at the silver and blue tail that starts at the mans waist.

“Please let go.” The man says with the air of someone trying very hard to mask their panic with calm.

Stern drops his arm at once.

“I, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I’ve heard you singing the last few nights and I wanted to see who you were, I meant to show myself right away but I got caught up in the song.”

Brown eyes narrow, “Is that all you want?”

“Yes. I’ll admit I also have a multitude of questions based on this new development.” He gestures to the tail, “but-”

A wave crests, drenching them both.

“Damn it.” He shivers.

The merman chuckles, “yeah, that’s why all sensible humans stay off these rocks.”

“I’m plenty sensible.” Stern mutters, shivers again. The merman seems to reach for a coat that isn’t there, then sets his hands on the stones.

“Come back at midday tomorrow if you really do want to talk.”

“Should I bring anything? Something for your trouble.?”

Calloused fingers drum on the rocks, “Cake? Or even just bread?”

“I can manage that.” He holds out his hand and the merman shakes it, then dives into the rolling sea without another word.

-------------------------------------

“Uh, I don’t mean to be rude but where the hell did you get this bread?” The merman, who introduced himself as Barclay when they met at the edge of the waves, looks down at the chunk of bread skeptically.

“My cook made it. I, um, am trying my hand at it as well. For perhaps obvious reasons.”

“I could teach you. Or at least tell you what to do so you could write it down.”

“How on--are there ovens underwater?”

“No” Barclay tosses the remaining bread to a waiting gull, “I remember from, well, from before.”

“You became merman rather than being born one?” He wants to press further, but the sorrow darting across Barclay’s face suggests that is unwise.

“The ship I was one went down. I...well, I tried to save people. According to one of the few other mers I know, if someone dies at sea while trying to do a selfless act, sometimes that’s enough for them to turn into mer. Not really clear on the mechanics beyond that.”

“Incredible.”

“Glad you think so.” Barclay’s expression is turning glum, and so Stern tries a different line of conversation.

“Are sea monsters real?”

Barclay chuckles, “Gonna ask about those instead of sunken wrecks laden with gold?”

“Those are far less interesting.”

“Kraken is real, sort of. There are some very large squid down there. Fish bigger than you can imagine, sharks too.”

“Say more.” Stern offers him the flash of tea he brought and Barclay eagerly accepts it.

“Well, some of them are harmless--are you writing this down?”

“Just for my own records. Please, keep going.”

And so pass their first few meetings, Stern electing to bring Barclay food from town after the first time, reveling in his delight at the meals. They eat and talk, Barclay eventually comfortable enough with Stern to come fully ashore. On warmer, sunny days they even lay side by side on their backs, and sometimes Barclay’s tail will brush or tap Sterns leg.

He doesn’t mind at all.

One day, after Barclay bemoans his inability to trim his beard to his liking (“water and sharp metal aren’t friends), Stern comes down to the water with his razor, soap, hand mirror, and brush, swearing that if he can successful keep himself clean shaven in the terrible mirrors in the house, he can trim Barclay’s beard without disaster. And so Barclay lays, tail in the surf and head in Sterns lap, as the man meticulously sets about his task.

When he’s done, Barclay sits up and looks into the hand mirror.

“That’s much better. You got some clever hands there, Joseph.” He grins and Stern tries to distract himself from the double meaning by brushing stray sand from his beard.

This backfires harder than a mis-built canon. Barclay rests his hand atop Sterns own, rubbing his cheek against his palm with a sigh.

“You take such good care of me, Joseph. God, if I weren’t as I am, I’d take such good care of you right back.” His free hand traces the line of Stern’s cheekbone, dips down to caress his jaw.

“You, you’ve been wonderful as well, I’ve learned so much, and it’s so nice to pass the time with you, even if you cannot follow me home or takeover the kitchen.”

“I could be even better to you, if you’d let me.”

“I will let you do whatever you want.” Stern shuts his eyes to better feel the touch of Barclay’s hands, “I will follow you like a beacon.”

The hands leave his skin. When he opens his eyes to search for the reason, Barclay’s tanned face has gone pale.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no it’s, I, just, you reminded me of something.” He pulls away from Stern, turning to face the sea. Stern doesn’t follow, although he aches to.

“Would you feel better if I left?” He asks softly.

Barclay shakes his head, “No, but I’ll feel better, in a way, if I say this. I told you I was in a shipwreck. That much is true. I told you I was a cook before, that was true as well. But what I didn’t tell you was that I was a cook one town over, for a family who was, well, they had more than enough money but that didn’t stop them from wanting more. So once a month, at the new moon, they’d go to the cliffs by the rockiest, most dangerous part of the coastline and hold up lanterns.”

“They were wreckers.”

A solemn nod, “When the ship was sunk, they’d go down the next morning and plunder the wreck. I never helped them, but I knew what they were doing long before I tried to stop it. Then one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I rowed out to the target, tried to tell them not to go towards those lights. They wouldn’t listen, held me prisoner thinking it was a trap. When she went down, just as the water covered my head, my legs twisted and changes into a tail and I could breathe beneath the waves. Making me the only man to make it off the Golden Willow alive.”

Stern gasps, covers his mouth in shock.

“The Golden Willow was the ship my brother was on when he died. A merchant, traveling with his stock.”

“I’m sorry.” Barclay’s eyes are wet, and Sterns turn that way as well as the mer dives into the sea, shame etched in his face.

-------------------------------------------

Call for boats, call for boats, my fair Plymouth boys,

Do you hear how the trumpets sound?

For the want of a long-boat in the ocean we're lost

And most of our merry men drowned.

“I don’t blame you, you know?” Stern stands in the sand, several books clutched to his chest.

Barclay doesn’t reply, but does turn to look at him.

“And, if I’m right, you think your being a merman is as much a curse for your inaction as it is a blessing for your attempt to save the ship and her men.”

A nod, accompanied by Barclay wiping a palm beneath his eye, “God, I miss so much. I, I’m glad I’m not dead, but I miss my kitchen, I miss the markets on summer mornings, food that isn’t fish.” He flicks his tail in frustration, “I miss sleeping in featherbed, not that I ever really got to being a cook and all, I miss my friends, my little sister, everyone.”

As he speaks, Stern hurries up the rocks to join him, guides him into his arms. He doesn’t cry, but he breathes heavily, holds tightly to the front of Stern’s coat.

“I looked through my library, did hours of research,” he inclines his head towards the books, “I found a few supposed means of transforming a merman into a human. I have no idea what is myth or anecdote and what, if anything, will work. But if you want to be human again, I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.” Barclay whispers, and Stern continues holding him, face stinging with salt spray, and stroking the planes of his tail soothingly until the other man is ready to let go.

Over the next several weeks, they try every potion, prayer, and process Stern was able to find, all to no avail. They’re sitting, dejected, side by side on the sand, when Stern spots one recommendation he dismissed as the stuff of fairy-tales.

“I have something to try. Um, please close your eyes, because I have a feeling I’m about to look very silly.”

Barclay obliges. Stern cups his cheeks, kisses him soundly, certain this will be the only time he gets to do so, no matter how much he longs to do it each day.

Barclay chuckles, eyes still shut, “Was that really a suggestion, or just an excuse to-”

Then he groans, head falling forward to rest on Stern’s shoulder, his whole body convulsing. Stern watches in awe as his tail slowly shimmers and dissolves, leaving feet and legs in it’s place.

“Really? Really? That was the solution?” Stern giggles, “of all the nonsense I read, I didn’t think ‘kiss of a lover true’ was worth a second look.”

“Kiss of what now?” Barclay shakes his head to clear it with a woozy, yet knowing, smile.

“I, um, I-” Stern blushes, both from his admission and from spying that Barclay is now completely naked.

“Joseph” Barclay kisses his cheek and he melts into the sand, “you think that after all that talk of wanting to treat you well, I wouldn’t want you kissing me?”

“I didn’t want to presume.”

“You can presume whatever you want. Fuck, Joseph, I’m in love with you and you just gave me the one thing I thought I’d lost, you could ask anything and I’ll give it.”

“In that case, would you come home with me? Though we may want to get you some clothes first.”

“What? Not enjoying the view?” He rolls onto his back, and Stern gets a full glimpse of just how good a view it is before shielding his eyes.

“I didn’t say that.” He smiles, laughs when Barclays beard tickles his throat and his teeth nip his ear, “but I think it would be enjoyed even more in my nice, feather bed. Don’t you?”

#mermay fills #sternclay #agent stern/barclay

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

Revelation Sunshine, Chapter 2 (Courtney/Vixen) - Veronica

A/N: I am so excited to finally be writing this story, especially as part of the challenge. Thank you so much to anyone who’s liked or commented. And especially thank you to the creator of the Galactica universe, @theartificialdane

Last chapter: After flirting via text and social media for a few months, Vixen and Courtney finally met in person, and ended up in bed.

This chapter: After a slightly awkward morning, they try to navigate an undefined long-distance situation.

***

It could have been a lazy morning, cuddling in bed while the rain pounded down outside, streaming against the windows, turning the whole world blurry and surreal. Vixen could have stayed in bed, warm and safe, and basked in the glow of their adorable puppy-love until Courtney had to leave for her photo shoot.

She could have let herself enjoy this—whatever it was, for at least a few more hours.

Instead, she woke up feeling unsettled and insecure, slipping out of bed to hunt down a toothbrush while Courtney dozed peacefully. It wasn’t until she was trying to quietly put her clothes back on and figure out where the hell her coat was that Courtney stirred.

“Good morning,” Courtney said with a yawn, sitting up slowly, tousled hair falling over her shoulders.

“Hey, sorry, I was trying not to wake you,” Vixen said. Her coat was nowhere to be found, she realized, because it was still downstairs where she’d checked it when she arrived. She rolled her eyes at her own alcohol-fueled stupidity and shoved her feet into her shoes.

It seemed to take Courtney a few moments to comprehend what Vixen had said, brow furrowing.

“You weren’t gonna say goodbye?” she asked softly.

Vixen froze.

“No, that’s not what I...I just know it’s early and I didn’t want to bother you with-”

Shit.

Courtney pulled the blankets up over her chest, an inscrutable expression on her face.

“Look, I know that I have a reputation for…” she paused, swallowing, “...I guess, taking this kind of thing lightly. But, that’s not what this is. I really like you.”

Guilt bloomed in Vixen’s chest as she moved to the bed, sitting down beside her. It actually hadn’t occurred to her, until this very moment, that Courtney might be feeling a scrap of the insecurity that plagued her. Everything about her life felt so charmed and perfect and easy; it was hard to remember that she was human too.

“I’m sorry,” Vixen said sincerely. “I really like you too. I just...I wasn’t thinking.”

Courtney nodded. It seemed like she believed her, so Vixen decided not to push it.

“Um...you fly back tonight, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And then your tour starts on-”

“Friday,” Courtney answered, a hint of resigned exhaustion in her voice before adding a chipper, “Can’t wait!”

Vixen chuckled softly.

“Well...then I guess I’ll see you when you’re in Chicago.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone hopefully.

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.”

Courtney gave her a lopsided grin, which deepened when Vixen moved closer, kissing her lightly.

“Hey, um...text me later. Tell me about that museum,” Courtney told her, fingers lacing with Vixen’s.

“I will. And you...let me know how everything goes today.”

“Sure.”

When Vixen pulled back to look at her, she was relieved as the brightness in her eyes. It was going to be a long couple of months, but with things being what they were, it seemed unwise to try and define their relationship any more than “can’t wait to see you again.” So for now, this would have to do.

***

Trying to keep a lid on her obvious fuming, Vixen typed out a text.

Sorry to bother you right now, but the guard won’t let us in without backstage passes. Can someone maybe call him?

“Where are your passes?” the guard said again, crossing his arms, a scowl on his face.

“I...already told you, we don’t have passes, but I’m supposed to be on the list. Toni Taylor.” Vixen shifted, indignation rising in her chest as he stared her down. She was not going to lose it, though. Not here.

“You’re not on the list,” he said, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Show him the text!” Monet said, elbowing her in the ribs.

“Oh right...sir, look. I have a text from Courtney Act that says to meet her here. I just contacted her again, but I’m sure she’s busy, so if you could-”

“How the hell do I know that’s a real text?” the guard scoffed.

“I...how far would we get if it wasn’t?!” Vixen asked, exasperated. “You think her people are just gonna let us in? Do you think that we think we can sneak around anywhere?” Vixen gestured to their group, five tall Black women all in bright, colorful club wear. Not the most inconspicuous of groups.

COURTNEY: OMG COMING NOW

“She says she’s coming,” Vixen said, looking up at the girls.

“Herself?” Monique asked, head tilted questioningly.

“I...I don’t know,” Vixen said.

But in fact, within 2 minutes, Courtney rounded the corner, in silver thigh-high boots and a makeup smock, hair half in curlers, the blonde offset by fresh rainbow highlights, marching towards them like a bat out of hell. A terrified redheaded boy wearing a headset followed on her heels.

“Where are they?!” Courtney demanded, then looked up and spotted Vixen, her face softening, hurrying toward her. She wrapped Vixen into a tight embrace, saying, “I’m so sorry about this, are you okay?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Vixen laughed. “Don’t worry, no one got out of line.”

“Okay. I’m sorry, this kind of shit is so fucking irritating.”

The guard, utterly chagrined now, started to stammer out an apology, but Courtney held up her hand.

“It’s fine. It’s your boss that I’m annoyed at.”

“So are they all on the list for-”

“Yes! All of them! Jonathan, give them the passes.” Courtney snapped her fingers at the ginger boy by her side, who hurriedly handed out VIP backstage passes to the whole group as Courtney led them back down the hall to the green room.

Mayhem and Monet exchanged a glance, Mayhem mouthing, ‘BAD ASS,’ and Monet laughing silently, nodding.

When they finally reached the large green room, Courtney turned around, urging the girls to make themselves comfortable.

“Have a seat anywhere. There’s food, drinks, and I…” she clasped her hands together. “...I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, girl. I love seeing someone yell at a douchey bouncer. Hi, I’m Monet.” She reached out a hand towards Courtney.

“Monique,” Monique jumped in quickly. “…and this is Mayhem.”

“Monet...Monique...Mayhem…” Courtney repeated with a nod. “Well, that’s gonna be a challenge.”

“Why?” Vixen asked, brow furrowed. “‘Cause all Black people look the same?”

Courtney’s eyes widened in alarm.

“No!” she insisted. “No, I meant because it’s just a lot of M names! And if-” she stopped short, seeing the stifled grins on all the faces around her, and narrowed her eyes.

Unable to hold back any longer, the girls all burst out laughing, peals of laughter bouncing off the walls. Courtney shook her head at Vixen, grinning.

“Good one. I almost had a heart attack,” she said, finally allowing herself to chuckle.

“Vix, what have we told you about scaring white girls just before their concerts?” Asia asked.

“Uhh...to do it?” The girls continued to laugh.

“Hey...I’m Moesha,” Asia said, and Courtney nodded slowly. When Mayhem hit her on the arm, she grinned and said, “Just kidding. I’m Asia.”

“Thank god,” Courtney breathed, a relieved giggle escaping. “So, I’m so glad you guys are here, but I kinda need to go finish preparing. I, uh…” She gestured to her half-done makeup and hair.

“Of course. Don’t worry about us,” Asia told her. “You go do your thing, get your makeup done, we’ll just be here. We’re gonna switch shirts and then test you on all the names.”

“Brilliant,” Courtney laughed. She turned to Vixen, fingers brushing against her wrist, asking, “Do you wanna come...hang out while they finish my makeup? You can see Kylie.”

“Sure!”

“Who’s Kylie?” Asia asked coyly, and Vixen turned around to give her a warning look before following Courtney into the adjacent room.

“Her dog.”

“Oh. Pity. I was hoping that it was her pus-”

“Asia!”

***

The concert was great—Vixen hadn’t seen Courtney perform for years, and she’d certainly upped the production value. Plus, having a VIP experience with some of her closest friends was awesome. It felt like the old days, all of them laughing and drinking and dancing and gossiping like school girls. Asia especially made her feel some type of way—ever since making partner at her law firm, she’d been working so much that Vixen hardly saw her. But tonight, they felt like kids again, even doing shots at one point, laughing until their stomachs hurt.

By the time they met Courtney backstage, collapsed in a sweaty mess on one of the green room sofas, Vixen felt pleasantly buzzed, happy and warm all over.

They settled in with more drinks and Indian food ordered from a nearby restaurant.

“So, how do you guys all know each other?” Courtney asked.

“College, mostly.” Vixen said, telling her how Asia was her RA freshman year at Hillman. “I was a fucking mess,” she said, laughing.

“You sure were,” Asia agreed, telling Courtney, “She spent most of the Fall semester on my carpet in tears.”

“Awww…”

“Well, fuck you, I had a lot on my mind!” Vixen snapped, then giggled again. “And, uh...Monique was in the same dorm. Although we didn’t really become friends until that Spring.”

“Yes! That philosophy class, with the...ugh,” Monique recalled, shaking her head.

“Monet was my study partner until she abandoned me,” Vixen went on, and Monet laughed.

“Listen, I just didn’t connect with all that sociology jargon. It didn’t speak to me,” Monet said.

“And uh, Mayhem met Monet through some educational leadership networking bullshit, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Monet nodded.

“And now we’re just...a bunch of boring ladies who work too hard and meet like once every 2 months for brunch,” Monique said.

“Party!” Mayhem added, clinking their classes.

Courtney grinned, listening to them share stories of their debaucherous college days and their sordid, stressed out twenties. Vixen could tell she was exhausted, knew that she was sacrificing her precious few hours of sleep before she had to get back onto the tour bus, just to hang out with her and get to know her friends.

Vixen kept looking over at her with a stupid, goofy smile on her face. At some point, it became permanent, making her cheeks hurt.

When the tour manager pulled Courtney away for a quick discussion, Asia took Vixen’s hand and squeezed it, saying, “Now, I know you don’t need my approval…but I like her.”

“Thanks,” Vixen grinned. Well. Continued grinning.

“And tell her I want tickets to the Oscars.”

“Oooh!” Monet chimed in. “I wanna go to the Tonys!”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll be her first priority, guys,” Vixen said with an eye roll.

“It’s not fair...why can’t a rich, famous pop star fall in love with me?” Mayhem whined. “I’m very lovable.”

“Ehhh,” Monique gave her the ‘so-so’ gesture and the rest of the group busted up laughing once again.

Later, after several rounds of good-bye hugs, the girls headed for their car, and Vixen lingered behind, telling them to go ahead without her, she’d get her own car. (And then of course, she had to pretend not to see Asia’s knowing wink.)

“We had a great time, I really...you were fantastic up there,” Vixen said.

“Thank you for coming,” Courtney said, leaning against the door frame. “Now, don’t get me wrong, all audiences are special, in their own unique way…”

Vixen laughed, reaching out to cup her cheek.

“But, um…” Courtney trailed off, eyes shining as Vixen’s thumb grazed her skin.

Vixen leaned in, watching her eyes fall closed before pressing their lips together. The kiss was soft and sweet, and fairly chaste. But when Vixen pulled away, the dreamy expression on Courtney’s face made her heart hammer heavily.

“I love your hair like this,” Courtney said, admiring the gold woven into her twists.

“I tried to glam it up for you.”

“You’re beautiful.” Courtney’s lashes fluttered, arms wrapping around Vixen’s waist.

“So are you,” Vixen said, hands still cupping her face. “So...I know you must be pretty exhausted...but…you’re also really hot.”

Courtney bit her lip and leaned in for another kiss, lips trailing down her jaw and then nuzzling into her neck. She heaved a deep sigh.

“I really want you, but I can barely keep my eyes open,” Courtney admitted, voice muffled against Vixen’s skin.

“So...maybe I should leave, and let you rest.” She trailed her fingers through Courtney’s hair, watching the way her colorful highlights caught the dim light, not yet ready to let go of the moment.

“Okay,” Courtney agreed, hands still gripping her waist tightly.

Of course, she ended up staying. By the time they settled into Courtney’s hotel room, they barely had 3 hours. So Vixen just wrapped Courtney into her arms and held her, enjoying this little sliver of affection before she took off again, knowing that it might not be until her tour ended in October that they would see each other again.

***

Vixen had watched the video twice already, feeling only mildly ashamed as she started it again. Courtney was lying on a yoga mat, post-workout, skin glistening with sweat. She picked up a bottle of water, the video switching to slow motion as she began to pour it all over her face and chest. She batted her wet lashes, blinking the water out of her eyes before looking directly into the camera and slowly licking her lips. The whole video was just silly enough for plausible deniability (especially the caption of “oh no, i spilled!”) and yet unmistakably alluring. And of course, Vixen’s stomach flipped every time she saw that tongue. What was wrong with her?

VIXEN: Wow. Your last post was…

COURTNEY: You like it? ;)

VIXEN: You look like a THOT

COURTNEY: LOL! Are you slut shaming me?!

VIXEN: I mean...

COURTNEY: Wow. And here I thought you were all about empowerment. Smh

VIXEN: FINE. Go ahead...live your best slut life.

COURTNEY: Aww, thx! Xoxo

***

Vixen was deeply aware of what she said on social media. As much as she wanted to pop off at people (and had, frequently, back in another lifetime, years ago), she knew that her academic credentials required at least a small semblance of self control.

So for the most part, she kept her tweets and instagram comments brief and professional. Almost formal.

Courtney, however, had no such rules for herself. She basically said any and everything on her mind, commented unabashedly, posted without filters. (Except like, literal filters, which she seemed to enjoy tremendously.) It was both endearing and, at times, deeply concerning for Vixen, for whom privacy was essential.

For instance, there was the story from Seoul Pride, where she met up with one of her old friends, Adore Delano—the two of them gallivanting around, drinking and laughing and screaming like idiots from a parade float. The whole thing culminated in a video of Courtney in a nightclub, glassy-eyed and extremely proud of herself, literally licking Adore’s face.

And then when Vixen posted a still from an interview with the Tribune, she immediately responded with nothing but a row of 10 heart-eyed emojis. Which led to Vixen getting hundreds upon hundreds of comments from what she presumed were Courtney’s (very young) followers: unbridled, hysterical excitement the likes of which she had never seen.

VIXEN: Um. What...with all due respect...the fuck?

COURTNEY: Oh yeah. The shippers. Sorry, I should have warned you.

VIXEN: I mean. Jesus fucking Christ.

COURTNEY: We’re OTP #couplegoals now. I’m afraid you have to marry me.

VIXEN: Seems that way, doesn’t it? BTW where are you? What time is it? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?

COURTNEY: Berlin. 4 am. Yes.

VIXEN: Say goodnight, Courtney

COURTNEY: Goodnight Courtney <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

***

A few days later, after finishing some rather emotional office hours (why every student felt the need to unburden their deepest traumas on Vixen that Wednesday, she didn’t know), she took a much-needed break, sipping a cup of coffee. She saw the picture right away (okay, maybe she had alerts set up by now, whatever)—Courtney curled up in bed with her dog, wearing a fuzzy pink unicorn onesie with turquoise accents and a ridiculous rhinestoned horn.

VIXEN: I can’t decide if it’s the cutest thing you’ve ever worn, or like...mortifying

COURTNEY: Both!

VIXEN: Lol, fair enough

COURTNEY: And perfect for cuddling ;)

VIXEN: I’ll bet!

COURTNEY: Why don’t you send me a pic in your favorite sleepwear?

VIXEN: I’m supposed to be a respectable member of the faculty, and you want me to use school wifi for that?

COURTNEY: SEND NUDES XXX

VIXEN: Lol

About a week later, a box showed up at Vixen’s front door. The return address had Courtney’s name and an unfamiliar return address. She assumed it was fine, but her suspicious nature required a safety check.

VIXEN: What’s in this package that just showed up at my house?

COURTNEY: OMG! That was so fast!! Open it!!

VIXEN: So, not a bomb? Please confirm

COURTNEY: Lol, no. Open it.

Vixen took the box inside, cutting it open carefully. Inside, there was another box, pink and shiny, with a card on top. The note read, ‘To replace your hoodie. Perfect for snuggling. XO, C.’

She lifted the lid on the pink box, and nestled inside was a fluffy turquoise dragon onesie with iridescent pink scales. It was the silliest thing that Vixen had ever seen. Silly and beautiful and perfect.

VIXEN: Damn. I guess fantasies do come true.

COURTNEY: I hope so...

#rpdr fanfiction #the vixen #courtney act #courtney x vixen #trans!vixen #asia o'hara #monet x change #monique heart #mayhem miller #fluff #mild angst #lesbian au #galactica au #fic challenge #black girl magic fic #revelation sunshine #veronica #diversity fic #trans character

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babyloontrash · 6 years

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Wedding Day (C.H.)

Summary: Calum on a wedding day. Words: 4,5k Note: Don't hate me, please.

Today was the day.

It had been marked in his calendar for months. A large notice with the word 'WEDDING‘ written in all capitals and filling up the whole space for that day. As if there was any need for that. How dumb and ignorant he would have to be to forget about such an important day? There was a bunch of cute doodles it too, in a pink and red gel pen, the glittery kind. She was the one who put it all down, and he could still remember how wide were her eyes and how bright was the smile she wore then. Even just the thought of that moment made him smile. Figuring out the perfect date was not an easy task. Not when she had this day planned out pretty much ever since she was seven. Though there had been some changes made during the years. For example, she no longer insisted on having a bouncing castle on her reception, nor making each of the guests bringing a pet with them. Those were brilliant plans if anyone asked him, but she had just rolled her eyes and laughed when he brought this point up. Hearing that laugh had made his heart flutter and to be honest, he would have no problem with making both the bouncing castle and the puppies really happen.

She had stated that the only thing she really needed from him on that day to be truly happy is to not have him bail on her in the last minute. "If you won’t be there when I’ll be walking down the aisle, I swear to God that I am gonna find you and make you pay real bad for hurting me like that.“

He had no doubts that she would really be capable of doing that. She did not look exactly terrifying when she had said those words out loud, considering that she was rather tipsy and both of her arms were wrapped around his neck as she needed the support so she wouldn't trip, but he believed her. He knew his girl well enough. There was nothing she needed to worry about, of course, he would be there. He loved her and she meant the world to him. Always had and always would. Forget all the fame and the money he had earned, not even the awards he and his band won could compare to how amazing it was to have her in his life and to how happy he felt when she sent him one of those smiles that were reserved for him. Of course, he would be there. Looking nice and sharp. Just for her.

They had only talked together on the phone last night. Her girlfriends had planned a sleepover of a kind and he was not allowed, naturally. She had sneaked into the bathroom though just to give him a call and ask how he was doing. She needed to hear his voice. It wasn’t like she had any doubts about the next day. Not at all. God, she had been waiting to marry and spend the rest of her life with him for so long. The scenarios of the guests not making it in time, the weather acting up, the cake not being as good as she had wanted it to and so on were filling her mind and driving her crazy. She wanted her wedding day to be perfect and he understood, allowing her to vent to him for as long as she needed before assuring her that it would be okay. Everything would be fine. Even if something would end up going wrong, it was not like it would matter that much anyway. Even if it would rain and her uncle got drunk and caused a scene, she was going to be a married woman on the end of the day and that’s what it was about. The love was the most important. Years later, she for sure wouldn’t even remember any of those things she was stressing about. Listening to all that did help her calm down. But maybe it wasn’t about what words were being said but about who had been saying them. He always seemed to have this soothing effect on her. There was something in the way he spoke that made her feel that yes, everything would turn out to be okay. And if it wouldn’t, well, she would always have him. "Don’t you dare to cry when you see me in the dress,“ she warned him playfully in the end, just before they were about to hang up because her friends had figured that she was missing and they got afraid that she's talking with the groom. "You know how puffy your eyes get afterwards and I can’t have you look like a mess on the pictures.“ He didn’t get to make any promises since the call had already ended, but truth be told, it would be rather unwise to make such promise anyway. Calum did not cry very often but he was rather sure that seeing her in her wedding dress, walking down the aisle would bring him to his knees.

As he put on his clothes he couldn't help but wonder about what would she look like, even though that he was going to see her in just a few hours. What dress would she be wearing? He remembered her liking bunch of these lacy ones. But that was long before the proposal even happened. Or maybe she would wear the kind with the skirt looking as if it was made of cotton candy... She always made fun of those, but then again, there was a time when she was joking about getting married to him out of all the possible people one day. Nothing was impossible. It didn't matter what dress she chose though, Calum was sure that she would look absolutely amazing. Little her always talked about how this would be her princess moment. Smiling, he went back to those memories in his mind. His fingers carefully buttoning up the shirt she picked with him specially for this occasion while joking about how if she wasn't engaged, she would have a great dilemma when trying to decide whether she wants to tear the shirt off or ask him to keep it on because he looked so good in it. Calum was right in the middle of tying his tie when Ashton's head peaked into the room. "You ready mate?" He asked and Calum simply nodded his head. He didn't even hear him walk inside but that didn't come as a much of a surprise with how loudly the music was playing. Ashton went to complain about that right after he turned it off, telling him how he had spent at least five minutes in front of the front door, waiting for him to let him in. "When you weren't coming I had to use the spare key. Part of me got worried that you decided to stay at home... I mean, I wouldn't blame you. You know my opinion on this." Calum didn't let him tell anything else, piercing him with a glare in the mirror. "I know. I know. Sorry. My opinion doesn't matter. You love her and you want to do this." "Exactly. Just be a good friend and say that you support this decision." There was a moment of silence. "I am a good friend and I support you. No matter what. You know that," Ashton finally said and then smoothed the jacket Calum put on. "You look great. Very handsome. Girls and women of all ages are gonna get weak in their knees when they see you." In the whole world, there was only one girl that truly mattered to him though.

"I am not going to play wedding with you. It's dumb." He kicked the ball towards her in hopes that she would kick, or maybe throw it back so they could play with it instead. "It is not!" She argued and her hands settled on her hips. Such a stupid gesture. His sister and his mum did the same thing when they wanted no more arguments from him. The ball stayed just a few steps away from her. If she moved a little bit to the left... "It's not dumb," he said in the end. Anything to make her stand and look differently at him. He didn't like the expression on her face. She seemed angry with him and he didn't like that. "I just don't want to... How about we play the spy thing. I will play the villain." She clearly couldn't say no to that, right? Everyone always wants to play the cool spy. It's way better than playing a bride. What they do anyway? Walk with some flowers in their hands. That's boring. "The last time you were over and I played the goalkeeper, you promised that I would get to choose what we play next time." God. He really did promise that. "You were an awful goalkeeper..." "That doesn't matter! We played what you wanted and now it's my turn. Or do you want me to tell your mum that you are a liar who doesn't keep their promises?" The frowned expression was gone. Her chin pushed forward and she looked at him almost with a triumph. Calum let out a heavy sigh, kicking the little stone that was near his foot away."That's not true. You know that." "It will be if you won't play with me."

To be honest, it didn't turn out to be as bad as he thought it would. Not that he would ever admit it. They got to bring all the plush toys outside into the garden, her mum made them put some blanket on the grass first so they wouldn't get all dirty, and they set them down as the guests. It was a bit boring when she later disappeared to get ready and he was left alone, but at least he got to steal some of the cookies they had set on the table as a part of the following feast. He didn't understand what was happening at first when the small radio they brought out and left at the door started playing. She got a little bit frustrated when she found him not standing at the made-up altar but he quickly rushed over there, having to wait for a moment before she adjusted the tape and the song started again. He also had to promise that he didn't see her before. He wasn't really lying. He did not see much. Just a stupid piece of curtain hanging over her face. He wondered how she would be able to talk through the aisle with that. She somehow did though and he was honestly impressed so he stared at her in awe. She had to nudge him, muttering how he needs to put the veil away. It didn't strike him that he could simply lift it up, instead, he literally tugged on the curtain so the little tiara she was wearing fell down to the ground as well. She shot him a glare but then took his hands, smiling at him a little while she nodded her head every once and then as if the large teddy who played the officer was really saying something. Soon, they were both saying their 'I do' and the celebrations could start. He was looking forward that part the most because it would mean eating all the cookies but before that, the kiss thingy had to happen. They exchanged a look but soon Calum decided to push through it and pecked her lips real quick. He always made fun of how his first kiss was actually a wedding one.

When Calum arrived at the venue, most of the guests were already there. "Everything okay?" One of his mates asked him when Calum walked up to them. He blinked his big brown eyes at that. Wouldn't they stop asking him about it? Of course, everything was okay. More than that actually. He was thrilled. He couldn't wait for the ceremony to start. "Yes," he ended up answering anyway because the look he sent them clearly wasn't enough to make it clear. Calum looked around, examining the surroundings. From what he could see, everything looked magical. Exactly like she wanted to. The weather shouldn't be an issue either. He checked the weather forecast in the car and there was not a mention of even the smallest possibility of rain. She wanted to get married outside and while Calum was there when she was picking up all the decorations, he was surprised with how amazing it looked all put together. She really did a great job with all of this and when he sent her a text telling her that he just got there and that the place looked absolutely lovely, she sent him a heart emoji. That small red heart made him realize how quickly his own heart was beating. He turned down his friend's offer of taking a sip from his flask. It would take the edge off, they said but Calum shook his head immediately. He wanted his mind to stay as clear and sharp as it could be. There would be plenty of time for alcohol later. Calum greeted the people he knew, all of them exchanging smiles and sharing their excitement about this lovely day, and he also got introduced to a lot of people he didn't know until now. Finally, he spotted his parents and his sister while they were walking out of the large tent where would all the celebrations take place later. As soon as they got close enough to each other, his mum pulled him into a tight hug. She went on about how nice everything looked and how surreal this whole thing felt. She still remembered when they were just little kids, running around the garden half-naked. And now there was a wedding. Time flew so fast. He stopped her in her rambling before she started crying and she smiled brightly at him, nodding her head and assuring him that there won't be any more tears now. She stroked his cheeks with her thumbs and then kissed him before going off to say hi to someone else. His dad and Mali stood there with him for a while, and while he was always the type of person who enjoyed his family presence, right now there was only one thing he could focus on and he couldn't stop his mind from wandering in that direction.

"Are you sure that the boys won't get upset that we left them alone?" She asked and pulled the hoodie a bit closer to her body. It was a summer night but the breeze that was coming from the ocean was making her feel a bit chilly. "Have you seen them?" Calum laughed and shook his head before collapsing down onto the grass. "They won't even notice that we are gone," he assured her and then patted his hand on the spot beside him when she kept standing and just looked down at him. He said her name to call her over, motioning for her to come down again and after a moment she finally did. "Fuck you," he let out when she managed to lay down on his hand in the process. "Sorry," she laughed and once she was comfortable, she reached for his hand that he was keeping close to his chest now while looking at her with a hurt expression. "Don't be a baby." She rolled her eyes when he called her out on laughing at his suffering. She laced their fingers together, smiling in the dark at how warm his hand felt against hers and also at how well their hands fit together. Carefully, as if not to cause any more 'damage', she brought their joined hands up to her lips and kissed the back of Calum's. "Is it better?" She wanted to know but Calum struggled to let out any sound at all. Did she really just kiss him? He felt like a dummy for suddenly feeling so funny in the pit of his stomach. After all, he knew how soft her lips were. They had pressed against his cheek many times before but that was always a simple, friendly gesture. Somehow, the kiss now felt more intimate. Maybe it was because they were completely alone, in a dark of a park she loved to visit so much. Her grandpa used to take her there when she was a kid and this place held a very special spot in her heart. He knew that, and to be fair, that was probably the main reason he brought her here. He sneaked her out from the party she threw for them before they would be leaving for England the day after tomorrow. He didn't have much time. And for the longest part, he thought about not letting her know how much he is going to miss her once he would be gone... What would be the point in telling her how much she actually means to him when he was going to leave? Michael then came up with this "if not now then when" talk and Calum hated him for that from the bottom of his heart. His friend seemed to have a pretty good point though. If she wouldn't like him and this confession would go terribly, at least he wouldn't have to face her after for some time, and once they would meet again, the whole thing may as well be long forgotten. But if it would work out? If she smiled at him in the way that made his heart speed up? Then they could use these months to think about whether their friendship that had lasted for years was worth putting on the stake and they maybe could have their happy end as a couple. It was embarrassing how much time he had spent thinking about that during the past year. Damn. Calum had this whole talk prepared but his throat suddenly felt so tight that he doubted he would be able to let out any of this. All just because of her hand securely holding onto his and her breath tickling his skin. Love was dumb. Who came up with that shit anyway? She turned to her side, using one of her hands to hold her head up while she continued to hold him. "Are you really not going to talk to with me because of that? Come on..." She grinned when he remained quiet and she nudged his foot with hers. "Of course not." He quickly shook his head. "I was just... thinking." "Yeah?" Her eyebrows raised. "Up for sharing that with me?" "I don't know," Calum admitted and shrugged his shoulders. "It's sort of dumb." "Is it?" He nodded his head, smiling a bit when she made this 'mmmhm' sound. "Dumber than letting that Cole guy pierce your lip?" His brows furrowed and he gently pushed her away from him. "We agreed we don't talk about that. Ever." "You agreed. I know that I will never recover." The park was completely quiet except for her laughter and Calum knew that even if he wouldn't force himself to speak the truth about his feelings, he wouldn't regret leaving the party and spending some time just with her right here. Her hand left his and he looked at her curiously when she made him turn his face towards her. She brushed her finger over the spot where the piercing once been and shook her head slightly in disbelief. "I still don't know what the hell you were thinking then." "Guess I just wanted to be cool." "You are cool. Even though that you are in the stupid band...." She joked. "You love my band," He reminded with a serious look. He heard her swallow before she spoke out again. "Yeah. I do." Their eyes met for a moment and she parted her lips as if she was going to say something but in the end, she pressed them tightly together again for a couple of seconds. "I can't believe you are leaving to make music in London. I am going to miss you." There seemed to be a hint of sadness behind these words and Calum couldn't stop himself from reaching out for her and pulling her to his chest. "I'll miss you too." He said the obvious and she offered him a little smile in return. "I'm going to drown you in messages. You will be so annoyed you will just keep on wishing that the guy gives you a break." "You will?" "Yes! For sure. You will not get rid of me that easily. You made a promise. You are stuck with me for life." She started laughing again and Calum automatically felt so happy with himself for being the one to cause that. He didn't need to say more, she knew exactly what he meant. The wedding. By now, she had made her peace with the fact that he would never let her live that down. They both had so many embarrassing stories on each other that it was quite scary, actually. As long as it was just the two of them talking about it and they didn't reach the ears of any stranger, though, it was good. Just like now. They spent the next hour or two actually laying in the grass, talking and laughing their asses off, reminiscing about all the great times they spent with each other. There was only a one little small thing missing for them to be as happy as they possibly could be, and Calum couldn't believe that he was really doing this when he suddenly leaned his head in and kissed her. He interrupted her story about old Ms Brown telling on them that they broke into her garden. She hated being interrupted and he knew it but he simply couldn't stop himself at that moment. The sun started to come up and she looked so beautiful in that gentle light. "I am sorry," he started to stammer out, his face so close to hers that their lips actually brushed against each other when he spoke. There was no slap, no 'what the fuck are you doing' or any other negative reaction. There was no reaction at all actually, and Calum really started to wish for the ground to swallow him whole as quickly as possible. With his eyes closed, he started to pull away but a pair of hoodie covered arms stopped him. "No. Come here," she mumbled and gently rubbed her nose against his before kissing him.

He was standing at the same spot where it had happened years ago, a wide smile on his face as he thought about it. About how she started to giggle as they made out because his hand under her shirt tickled her. About how she then rolled on top of him and made him tilt his head back in pleasure when she kissed his neck. About how they just made out and cuddled until the sun completely came up and they both needed to go home. Calum was absolutely in love with her then and he loved her just as much now. He needed to tell her. His heart would burst if he didn't. He fished his phone out of his pocket and then dialled her number. "I need to talk with you,“ he said into the phone in a shaky voice once she finally picked up. A part of him struggled to wrap his mind around the fact that this was really happening. "Babe, I’d love to but we really don’t have time… My heel broke so we quickly had to find some new shoes that would fit and now we are late and… I know small things like this don’t matter. I swear I am not stressing out. We are running late. I’ll talk to you later after the ceremony, okay? Love you.“ "Love you.“ When the call finished, Calum checked the time. It made sense that everyone seemed to be at their places already as the ceremony was supposed to start in only a few minutes. It didn't appear that any of them knew about the little delay of the bride. Still, he needed to get in position too, so everything would be ready for when she would arrive. Shoving the phone into his pocket he started to walk towards the group of people that were waiting aside. He smiled at some of the bridesmaids that were already there and then spend the time while they had to wait chatting with the groomsmen. Suddenly, the two bridesmaids that were missing showed up beside them, saying that it's about time that they start. And so they did. The music began playing and they walked through the aisle to the cute arch that was put up just for this occasion and that was covered with flowers. If anyone asked him, Calum wouldn't be able to tell what song was playing when his feet carried him there, nor could he tell how were all the people in the seats looking at him. He moved automatically and there was just one person on his mind. Her. He couldn't wait to see her. He tried not to fidget too much because of the nerves and he searched for the faces of his family and his closest friends. They were all giving him their best smiles. They knew how he felt. Then a new song started and everyone's eyes turned towards her. He could feel the tears starting to sting in his eyes. He had tried to brace himself but it didn’t seem like he did a very good job. She looked wonderful, absolutely stunning. Some people seemed to gasp and he honestly didn't blame them. She carried herself with such grace that it almost seemed as if she was floating through the air. There was a small, a bit nervous smile playing in her lips and he noticed how tightly she was holding on the bouquet that was made of her favourite flowers. When her and Calum's eyes met, she made the corners of her mouth turn up a bit higher before she shook her head a little bit. "Don't cry," she mouthed towards him but when she looked down he saw how quickly she was blinking her eyes. This was a very emotional day for her. For all of them. The aisle wasn't too long and yet, it felt like ages to Calum. Ages during which he couldn't stop himself from admiring how beautiful she looked as a bride and also thinking about his past and future life. When her father finally brought her over to where the officer was standing, he shot Calum a little encouraging smile. Calum's head nodded slightly in acknowledgement and then he swallowed thickly before looking down while her father handed her to the groom.

Fuck all the fame and the money he had earned, fuck the awards he and his band won. If it wasn't for them, he was pretty sure that he could be the one marrying her and the smile that made her eye crinkle would still be reserved only for him.

#5sos #5sos imagine #5sos blurbs #5sos fic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer fic #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood fic #calum hood blurb #calum angst #calum fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood fluff #5sos angst #5sos fluff

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justakpopfic · 5 years

Text

I am Not—Chapter 17

Stray Kids fic

Masterlist

The ride dragged on. After a closer look at the “bus” we were in, it turned out that this was probably not a bus. There were no seats. No windows. And just one tiny lamp that barely lit up the area.

We all sat together, wrists tied up. I saw LM55 struggle against his bindings, trying to untie or snap them in half no doubt. CB82 and HH49 were doing the same thing.

I spat out the cloth that was thrusted into my mouth. “What are you doing guys?” I said.

“Escaping,” LM55 said.

“But why?” I asked, voice a little bit quieter.

LM55 looked at me like I had three eyes. “Why do we want to escape? Because we don’t want to go back there! If we go back there, we’ll die!”

“But what’s the point?” LF20 deep voice sounded remorseful. “They caught us once, they’ll just chase us again.”

“Will they really kill us when we return?” IN42 said with tear filled eyes.

I turned to ST13, who was curled up in a ball in the corner. I saw her shoulders shake in the dark, and I could hear choked sobs from her direction.

I scooted closer to her. “ST13?” I said tenderly. “Are you alright?”

I was a stupid question to ask her. None of us were alright. We were basically being delivered to our death.

ST13 shook her head, still facing away from me. I didn’t know what to say. I all could do at that moment was stay next to her.

My wrists fought against my bindings. I wanted out. Anger surged through my veins. I wanted to rip the ropes apart and get us far, far away from here.

But of course nothing happened. The ropes were too strong and I was too weak.

Still, I scooted closer to ST13 until our shoulders were touching. I could hear and see her tears falling down her dirt covered face. I reached my tied up hands to her, and placed them both on her shoulder.

“I’m here,” I said. “We are here with you. We won’t leave you.”

ST13 said nothing. Soon enough, the other boys scooted closer to ST13 to whisper comforting things into her ears.

“We’ll get out of this.”

“Don’t cry.”

“We’re here. We are all here, together.”

ST13 still said nothing. Then, ever so slightly, she leaned into me, our cheeks touching. I felt her tears on my cheek, her breath on my neck, and somehow it was more comforting than any words could say.

“We gotta get out of here,” I said.

“No kidding,” said SM71.

“What’s the plan?” HJ19 asked.

I knew that it was going to take a lot more effort and fight to get out of this mess. The ten of us huddled around in a small circle, discussing a plan.

The short version of it, kick the drivers out.

This meant that we had to get these ropes off. We tried everything. Biting, pulling, looking for something to cut with. But it was pointless. The rope was still on our wrists.

“Can’t. We. Get. These. Off?” HH49 growled as he slammed his wrists to the wall in anger. A loud bang sounded through the vehicle. IN42 shuddered. Then his eyes lit up.

“I think I have an idea!” He said.

“Really?” WJ00 said. “What is it?”

“LF20! Your hands are small!” IN42 shouted.

“Rude, but what about it?” LF20 yelled.

“You’re gonna have to try and slide your hands out!”

“How is that gonna work?”

“You just have to try!”

“Guys, you don’t have to yell,” LM55 said in normal volume. “You’re scaring ST13.”

Sure enough, ST13 curled into herself slightly with the shouting. Our bodies were still touching. Her hair brushed my cheeks.

LF20 rubbed his hands together, twisting his wrists. He kept at this for what felt like ages.

“What are you doing?” HH49 said.

“Getting my hands sweaty,” LF20 said.

I started doing the same thing as LF20. Rubbing my hands together, trying to loosen the rope. The rope didn’t seem to budge, but I kept rubbing my hands and twisting them. Just hoping for something to happen.

The rope bit into my wrists, turning them into an angry red. The vehicle drove over bumps and ditches, making the whole process more challenging.

After ages of painful twisting, LF20 let out a cheer.

“I got it! I think I got it!” He said. We all looked in his direction. One of his hands was slowly squirming out of the bindings. We all watched in anticipation as LF20 twisted his hands until he eventually got his hand out.

“It’s out!” LF20 in surprise, rubbing his red wrists that are now free.

We had to contain our cheers of joy, in case the guards could somehow hear us. Still, we couldn’t hide our smiles. We might have a chance. A chance.

LF20 went to SM71, who was closest to him, and began to untie his bindings. When SM71 was set free, he went to WJ00, and LF20 went to LM55. Soon, they got free and they went to the rest of us.

Eventually, HJ19 got my ropes untied, and I turned around to ST13. She stared at me with wide eyes, I could see her short lashes, and my own reflection in them. I took her hands, and began to untie her ropes as gently as I could.

After a couple of minutes, the ropes fell to the ground. ST13 rubbed her wrists together. She looked at me with a small smile.

“Now what?” asked IN42.

“Well we get away from here,” CB82 said.

“We kick them out of the van,” said HH49.

“That doesn’t sound smart,” HJ19 said. ST13 nodded in agreement. HH49 just rolled his eyes.

“What do you think we should do, CB97?” WJ00 asked.

I scrunched my face up in thought. What would be the best way out of this?

I crawled around the small space. From what I saw of the vehicle, it had a front part, but I couldn’t see it from here. The wall opposite of the door was completely blank. I knew that on the other side, there were two guards, driving us to our doom.

I pressed my ear to the wall. I could hear voices. The two guards were talking. But I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Whatever, that wasn’t important. There would be no way of knowing what’s going on in here, unless we were too loud.

I looked over to the door. It seemed weak enough, but I couldn’t tell if we would be able to break it open by brute force alone.

“Okay guys,” I said. “This is the plan.”

Everyone moved closer to me, ears peeled.

“We’re gonna make a ruckus. We’ll make it obvious that we’re acting up, and when they stop the truck to open that door, we pounce,” I explained.

“Pounce?” SM71 said.

“Yes. I mean go feral. Any damage you can make, you do it. And when you get the chance to run away, run.”

“CB97,” WJ00 said, almost as if he was scared. “There’s not a large chance that we’ll all make it.”

“I’ll make sure that you all make it. Even if that means I don’t.”

I stared into every single one of their eyes. Most held fear and hesitation. But WJ00’s eyes held something different. What was it? Sadness? Regret? Something was happening behind those eyes and I couldn’t place my finger on it.

Whatever WJ00 was feeling, I didn’t have time to talk to him about it. I crawled to the door. I raised my arms.

“Get ready, guys,” I said.

I banged my hands against the door. And I did it again. And again. Again. Again. Again. The others have joined in, hitting their arms against the metal. Sure enough, noise rang through the small space. My firearms burned from the harsh contact, but I didn’t stop.

The truck kept on driving. Nothing was happening. I started to think that maybe this was unwise. That they wouldn’t care if we were making noise. What if they couldn’t hear us?

But I didn’t have the guts to tell the others that. So I continued punching the doors to the truck, hoping for a miracle to happen.

I heard a loud crack, and felt a cool rush of air. I look down, and I can see the ground. I stifled a gasp. It was working.

“Guys!” I said. “I’m making an opening, help me out!”

Soon, all ten of us were pounding on the door. It rattled and shook with each blow. It almost felt like a dream. Like that other world. Where we could be free.

But I didn’t want to get my hopes up. They’re still the guards we have to worry about. We’ll have to get rid of them.

Our banging didn’t go to waste. The door opened up wide enough for one person to squeeze down.

“Do you think we’ll fit through?” CB82 asked.

“One at a time,” I said. “Who’s going first?”

“We’re jumping out?” HH49 said.

“Do you have a better idea?” LM55 said.

HH49 didn’t have an answer for that. IN42 came forward, standing at the edge of the truck.

“Just jump,” I said. “And run.”

And IN42 did just that.

He stumbled onto the ground. As he got up to run, SM71 jumped out of the truck as well. One by one, everyone jumped out of the truck, and it was still in motion. Everyone except for me, and WJ00.

“Aright,” I said. “Jump.”

“No,” WJ00 said. “You first.”

“WJ00, we don’t have time for this. Jump off first and I’ll follow you right after.”

“I won’t let you.”

“You have to WJ00—“

“Chan.”

I froze. He called me Chan, but why? My name is CB97, Chan is someone from the other world, he is not me.

“Why did you—“

“It’s time you gave a real name to yourself,” WJ00 said. “I think it should be Chan. Now unless you want to die, then jump off first, Chan.”

“But what about you?” I asked.

“I’ll be fine, Chan. But I want you to jump off first.”

“Are you sure?”

“I have a plan. I know what I’m going to do, Chan.”

I took a deep breath. WJ00 put a hand on my shoulder. He stared at me with kind eyes. The kindest eyes that have ever laid on me. I felt like I was going to cry. No ones ever looked at me with so much love before.

“I love you, Chan,” WJ00.

“I love you to, WJ00,” I said, fighting back tears.

WJ00 let go of my shoulder. I faced away from him, to the moving ground. I took a deep breath, and jumped.

I hit the dirt with a thud. It was some of the best pain I felt. I got up and began to run. The others were already far ahead, I was going to catch up to them.

I was so happy. I looked behind me, expecting to see WJ00. I was going to smile at him, but it melted away when I saw him in the truck.

Everything turned to slow motion. Every sound faded out. All I could see was WJ00 still in the truck. I stopped running, my legs became weak. I watched him go deeper into the truck. The truck was getting smaller and smaller. I didn’t understand.

WJ00, why aren’t you escaping?

I started to chase after the truck like a madman. I wasn’t going to loose WJ00. No, never. I couldn’t.

As I ran towards the driving truck, I caught a glimpse of WJ00 through the open crack of the broken door. Even at a distance, his eyes were filled with something bittersweet. Sadness mixed in with satisfaction.

The truck caught on fire. It exploded. With WJ00 in it.

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hellyeahomeland · 5 years

Text

“Deception Indicated”: an HYH recap

[The very final season of this show really does seem the perfect time to kick off a new series on this blog! Over the years I’ve expressed my dislike of recap culture, so I don’t know why I think this is a good idea. But I do! My goal here is to offer something a bit more light-hearted than Director’s Chair, a bit broader than the extremely niche Things Carrie Wore This Week, and much less time-consuming than listening to a 1-hour podcast. Let me know what you think! --Sara]

Our final season opens with Carrie, sleepless in bed, recounting some truly horrific memories of her time in capture. How does one describe this? She screams “not the coat, not the coat!” presumably talking about a straitjacket. She has what I can only describe as an imaginary orgasm, surrounded by wooden figurines to which she whispers, “don’t be scared!” Are we on the set of Girl, Interrupted? I have to believe this is the footage Claire talked about filming in 2018 that never made it into the final cut of “Paean to the People.” It’s all very…. wtf. I really don’t need it in my life.

Carrie has a mini anxiety attack (episode count: 1), because honestly who wouldn’t. She’s in Landstuhl Medical Center. Which is where Brody was before they brought him home in the pilot, and where Quinn was before Saul and Carrie effectively killed him too. ~memories~

Carrie asks for a half of a Lorazepam before returning back to bed. Apparently she’s seen our Twitter bio and feels the same!

We then get the rarest of Homeland occurrences: a montage! This montage has EVERYTHING! Carrie running, Carrie bun, Carrie getting her blood pressure taken, Carrie wearing an oversize sweater, Carrie going to meet Doug who is not Doug.

Instead it’s some hard ass CIA man Jim, who is Doug’s supervisor, believes Carrie is a Russian agent, and also apparently can’t read her file because he is asking her the same questions she’s already been asked 439 times. Three things:

1) This scene reminds me so much of a point in “Game On,” when Carrie is trying to get out of the psychiatric hospital and does her very best “I’m so grateful and agreeable and kind” act—which is an act, but also not really an act? She declines water, and makes small talk with Jim, and actually attempts a smile.

2) This scene also has a strong callback to the scene in the pilot where Carrie is questioning Brody at Langley. It’s intercut with flashbacks, similar to Brody with Nazir, and most importantly has a defining air of “hmm what is actually going on?”

3) Carrie sighs and sucks in her teeth at least 76 times. I LOVE YOU, CARRIE!!

Carrie is understandably pissed at Jim’s accusations but we don’t sit with that for too long because now we’re in Qatar, with Saul. He is still, for some unknown reason, the National Security Advisor to Beau Bridges. There is a scene where Saul explains what’s going on to a group of journalists and it has so much exposition and information-dumping in it it’s kind of admirable.

I had to watch this twice to understand what was happening but it goes like this: America is helping facilitate peace talks between Afghanistan and the Taliban, because it would really like to get out of Afghanistan after 20 years. But no one really trusts anyone else, and everyone is still pissed at everyone for literally everything that’s happened in the last half century. So yeah, things are going great! And this episode has TWO references to the embassy attack in Islamabad in season four, in case we’d forgotten (how could I ever).

Then the Afghan VP G’ulom is like FUCK THIS and calls a surprise press conference and says they’ll never agree to giving up Taliban POWs and don’t you know that Afghanistan is a lion? The dude who plays G’ulom has probably the best voice of any actor I’ve ever heard. The way he says “lions” over and over gives me chills.

So now Saul is like, hmmm what do I do?… Oh, I know, my homie Carrie! She’s just the person for this task in a war zone. Also the last time I asked her to do something like this it ended very well for everyone involved.

Saul goes to Germany to say exactly this and Doug and Jim look at him like he’s basically crazy, which he is. But Carrie is all in, but she’s still basically crazy too.

MEANWHILE, Max is also en route to Afghanistan for a mission. That’s right, Max gets his own band of hot Marines this year too! At least one of them looks like he would have been on Friday Night Lights 10 years ago. Mr. FNL thinks the mission is bullshit because it’s very dangerous and he has no idea what’s going on. That makes two of us, Mr. FNL! Also there is a hat.

The next day Carrie is in Kabul, being very Cool Girl with Mike Dunne (good lord I wish his name was Nick Dunne just for funsies), the Kabul Chief of Station. He introduces her to Jenna, who is…. both deer-in-headlights and also trying desperately to be Cool Girl too? This CIA culture is toxic. There is a glorious scene where Jenna is taking Carrie to her room and Carrie is forced to be in an elevator with her and is this the first time Carrie’s been alone with another woman who’s not a blood relative in years? Carrie’s annoyance is palpable. She tells Jenna to stop whining and stop taking no for an answer. The Carrie Mathison way™!

Tasneem smokes a cigarette while waiting for Saul, and it is glorious. I actually screamed! Saul apologizes for his earlier comments blaming her for Americans dying in the Islamabad embassy attack. In true Saul fashion, he uses this as a segue to accuse her of tanking the current peace talks, implying that he needs an “adult” at the table and GOD WHY DON’T YOU JUST WANT PEACE?? Tasneem is like, HOLD UP!!! You left the region when the USSR left, then you came roaring back after 9/11. Also, we fucking live here! We know that if the US leaves now, the Afghan state—WHICH BY THE WAY YOU BUILT—will collapse and the country will enter into a civil war, and all of this is not PEACEFUL the last time I checked. Saul just kind of stares at her, because she’s actually right and he knows it.

Cut to Carrie, doing all of her most “old school” spy tricks, including: something with a dial tone that this millennial does not understand, dressing up as someone else, flicking on lights as some sort of code, exiting through the kitchen, and riding a dusty motorcycle. I know it was a stunt double but Carrie just revealing her ability to ride a motorcycle after 8 years is thrilling. It’s like when she showed up in Tehran in season three with different hair and spoke French fluently.

She goes to meet an old asset, who drives her to meet another old asset, who it turns out is dead. Killed five months ago for being a traitor to the Americans. Carrie has another anxiety attack (episode count: 2) as it dawns on her that she probably gave up his name in the Russian prison.

Back on the Afghan mountains, we finally learn just what the hell Max is doing. It involves a decoy rock that has some sort of computer or listening device under it. Apparently they have no way to tap into Haqqani’s phone and Max is gonna save the day and get that fixed. We have to stan.

Carrie gets back to her hotel room and Mike Dunne is waiting for her, very concerned dad. Doesn’t Mike know Carrie already has a fake dad who feigns concern about her well-being? Their conversation goes something like this:

Mike: don’t give me that ask for forgiveness, not permission crap! Carrie: lmao dude, I don’t need your permission. I am here because Saul asked me, no one even knows who you are. Mike: we have THREE TEAMS looking for you. Carrie: I could not give fewer fucks. Mike: ... Carrie: ...But, by the way, how real is Russian/Taliban cooperation? Like… do they share advisors… or what about intelligence? Say, intelligence given up by former CIA officers while in a Russian prison?

Oh, she leaves that last part out. I’m struck here both by how bad of a liar Carrie is and also how good of a liar she is. She brings up Russia for some unknown reason (doesn’t she know that looks really shady?) and then nods her head, does the “oh, I see” routine, eyes darting… but then comes up with a perfectly believable cover story. There is a strange moment where Carrie and Mike Dunne both sort of agree to drop it and I don’t know why but I had this palpable feeling that there is way more to this relationship from pre-season four days (I guess that means there was a shift from concerned dad to ... something else). After he leaves, Carrie has another panic attack (episode count: 3).

Max and Mr. FNL and the rest of the crew have finally made their way back down the mountain but the hardest part remains. There is an excruciating sequence where, one by one, they make their way across this exposed field. Eventually the Taliban fighters do see them. There are gunshots but somehow, miraculously, they all make it out alive. Mr. FNL says Max is their “frosted lucky charm” and Max only stares at them because the mission? It was actually a success. They’re all up in Haqqani’s comms now.

The next morning, Carrie and Jenna are at the meeting to see G'ulom. Jenna—unwisely!—asks if Carrie is ok. She knows from Mike she was out late last night. Carrie gives a terse “I’m fine” before mentioning, oh by the way you know you’re just gonna wait outside of this meeting like a silly chaperone, right? Did Mike tell you that too?

Again, she doesn’t actually say this, it’s just coded Carrie language, dripping with passive aggression. I suppose when you’re brought up in a toxic, misogynist work culture, you’re probably trained to believe that every woman who is nice to you just wants something from you. (And Carrie may be right but my God is it amusing/depressing to see Jenna, dejected, plop herself down and sit silently with her hands in her lap.)

Carrie paces and does her trademark Brody finger tapping outside G’ulom’s office… when out walks a Russian delegation. Including one Mr. Yevgeny Gromov. WHO LITERALLY WINKS AT HER. I have to say I find Costa Ronin extremely hot, 75% of that attraction being that he wears a turtleneck 50% of the time.

His presence sparks a memory in Carrie: he was the one she implored to stay in the Russian prison, to not leave her here (was this a shock to anyone else, or just Carrie). She goes all wide-eyed, starts breathing heavily, and has her fourth panic attack of the episode. Cut to black.

#homeland #an hyh recap #deception indicated #*#by: sara #homeland spoilers

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