#also I ignored everyone else nonnie oops

[aceprosecuties]

(I'm here for potential angst) Imagine an AU where Apollo keeps working under Kristoph for a few years (pretending the whole Defend Phoenix thing doesn't happen) and it's kind of toxic. And Clay still ends up being murdered at the space station. Then of course the year after Nahyuta shows up to prosecute a case. Imagine Nahyuta just seeing Apollo in this state.

(All the other details with Simon Athena, or anything with the Wright agency are complicated and I didn’t think that far ahead) Just Nahyuta seeing Apollo, who’s resentment probably has risen due to Kristoph, still looking up to Kristoph. Nahyuta inside reaction (because he can’t actually show it)

UH NONNIE ARE YOU TRYING TO BREAK ME inthebestwayofcourse

I’ve definitely thought about Apollo being under Kristoph’s wing and everything - since Apollo does have a heart for the truth and for justice (lol puns), it takes some crafty manipulation on Kristoph’s part to mold him into his perfect protege.  He lays the groundwork, whispering about corrupt prosecutors and how they will do anything to get a conviction…but Apollo still wants to think the best of the system.  Unfortunately, Kristoph is great at making his words sound sweet and they’re almost addictive as people lose more and more faith in the courts; they claw through Apollo’s brain and viciously battle against his own sense of justice and truth, chipping away at his defenses until he finds Kristoph’s voice melding with his own in his head.  He doesn’t recognize how manipulative Kristoph is being; he just sees it as a mentor teaching his beloved protege his personal ideals.   

But the resistance remains, Kristoph knows.  It remains and it takes a final push to snuff out any remaining fires that tie Apollo to his old self.  He waits until the opportune moment.  He waits…and Clay’s death gives him the open door he has been waiting for.  Clay’s killer is never found, and Apollo finds only comfort in Kristoph, who reminds him that the truth is elusive.  In this world of corruption, the only way to survive is to make your own truth.  If the evidence does not show what you know to be true, then you make it so. 

And for their next case, Kristoph finds a piece of evidence that would have let their client off the hook…and he destroys it, waiting for Apollo to come to him for his “connections.” 

How delightful when he does, and they create the truth in their own way. 

—-

(SO UH CUT FOR NAHYUTA’S THOUGHTS AND STUFF NOW also I’m tired so I’m sorry if this is just bad I got carried away aha)

Ema Skye had mentioned Nahyuta’s opponent was going to be Apollo Justice, but Nahyuta had been expecting a completely different person.  The Apollo he knew was earnest and determined and had a passionate fire that he believed could never be extinguished.  Not like his own - Nahyuta always believed that if their positions had been reversed, Apollo would have figured out a way to get out from under Ga’ran’s thumb and save his family.  Nahyuta was too weak to do that.  

So who was this man standing across from him in court? 

Sure, he had the same face as Apollo…the same ridiculous hair he remembered form when they were kids, but…this was not the Apollo he knew.  

That Apollo had fire.  This one…this man…was ice.  

He repeated the phrase ‘evidence is everything in court’ with a sickeningly faux-innocent smile as he showed pieces of evidence that Nahyuta knew deep down should not have existed…but he had no way to prove that.  Whenever Nahyuta spoke about the evils of defense attorneys - to keep up appearances with Ga’ran’s spies of course - Apollo countered not with a defense of his profession, but with cold polite insults in return.  

He was softer in his voice, even.  Since when had he learned to speak at a normal volume…?  It was unsettling, especially since there was always some…darkness behind it.  As if an evil aura had suffocated and quieted him. 

Nahyuta knew better than to go up to Apollo after the trial.  They were supposed to be strangers, with no history between them.  But he did watch him.  He watched as a blond man with glasses approached Apollo, smiling that same cold smile that Apollo had used in court.  He watched the man put his arm around Apollo, probably congratulating him on his victory, but that grip looked…tight.  Possessive.  Like Apollo was a treasure no one else was meant to touch or dirty with their sullen fingers.  

To Nahyuta’s dismay…Apollo didn’t notice.  In fact, he seemed happier in this man’s clutches than he had throughout the entire trial. 

And Nahyuta watched them walk away.  He wanted to call after Apollo, to wretch him from that demon’s hands and reignite the fire he always believed would never go out.  

He almost did. 

Almost. 

Instead he stood there, appearing emotionless.  Unable to move because he too had a demon’s claws holding him, ripping his soul to shreds piece by piece. 

He had always believed Apollo to be beyond her reach. 

But how foolish of him to assume only one devil existed in this world…and how arrogant he was to underestimate their power.

He prayed to the Holy Mother to watch over Apollo, knowing full well that she did would not be able to find him amidst such evil.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

People complaining about 'queer baiting' when they ought to be more concerned about the amount of fetishisation that occurs when people ship two men lol

Hey Nonny,

I’m gonna assume you’re not trying to be a dick, and are coming from a good place, though you taking the time out to put this ask in a weird serif font is leaving me wondering if you’re trying to stand on a soapbox, but I’m going to ignore that for now, and I ask anyone replying to this post to please also grant that same respect. I only wish to educate, learn, and interact, after all. 

I get what you’re trying to say re: queerbaiting, I really do. And fetishization is a problem, I agree. 

Let’s tackle the queerbaiting first.

Let it be known to you that a large majority of the people calling “queerbaiting” are queer people and academics. I know the false stigma that “fandom is full of stupid little girls” still exists and is something that, quite frankly, this ask is implying and therefore helping to perpetuate. It’s not. Honestly, with this take you have here, you’re disregarding and invalidating the feelings of millions of other queer people who genuinely feel when something is queerbaiting because it’s something they have experienced over and over and OVER again and media just “LOL OOPS SORRY WON’T DO IT AGAIN”. 

Disney is a perfect example of this. How many “first LGBT characters” has Disney had now? At least one a year for the past decade.

Listen, the people who initially called it out years ago for Sherlock were older folks who have lived decades of media constantly teasing gay relationships and then not following through with it at the end... literally “baiting” queer people to watch their shows because more people = more money.

Anyway, Gattiss confirmed he used homoerotic subtext to bait people, so I don’t know what else to say on this matter. That link also has some additional articles and sources that came out regarding the queerbaiting aspect of Sherlock, and they’re all good reads, so I do recommend checking them out.

Some other interesting reads, if only so you can gain some empathy for the others who DO see it as queerbaiting:

Gender and Queer Fan Labour on Tumblr: The Case of BBC’s Sherlock (Webarchive link, so give it a few to load)

The Elephant in the Room: Authorship, Queerbaiting and Sherlock

Queerbaiting in Sherlock 

PODCAST: Queerbaiting in Sherlock

From Queer Reading to Queerbaiting - DiVA Portal

And as I’ve mentioned in past posts, I personally believe Sherlock IS queerrbaiting WITHOUT a confirmation in S5. They had the chance to stop it in S3, and instead they ramped it up. And yes, if you only watch Sherlock and omit S3 and TAB completely, I can see the queerbaiting argument null and void. But instead they made the episode that John was supposed to be getting married the gayest episode in the whole series, next to TAB. So I dunno, my friend.

Now, I shall discuss the very thin line of fetishization vs shipping.

I am not a professional AND I am a fairly recently-realized member of the LGBT community, so I don’t feel it’s my place to tell you what’s what. 

There’s a really interesting Tumblr post by LGBT+ Weekly about this very thing that I think offers a “both sides” approach: Shipping and queer fetishization. And this interesting and on-point post here: About Fandom, Slash, and Fetishizing Gay Men.

From here, I can only offer my opinion, not fact, and I am open to being educated. 

Yes, absolutely some people fetishize LGBT relationships. I’m NOT going to say there aren’t. But a majority of people ship ANY ship because it helps them understand themselves. It’s just that simple, and to tell someone that them shipping characters is bad / no good / fetishization can be harmful to them and make them fear “being gay”. Shipping characters is a way of disconnecting themselves from, well, themselves, and it’s a “safe place” to “come out” or discover themselves.

To me, you’re breaking down fetishization as “I like reading about two people fucking” and nothing beyond that, and not taking into account that many people like a pairing because of chemistry, or because someone sees themselves in a character and are exploring their own sexuality through it. If that’s the case, then I guess all M/F ships are are fetishizations? Why is it only M/M that people decry “fetishization”, when F/F is apparently not (clarification: it totally can also be)? So, is me liking Johnlock any different than my Zutara ship? Why? 

Plus, the reason so many people ship M/M ships is because there’s just SO MANY MALE CHARACTERS ON ANY GIVEN SHOW. 

I get what you’re trying to say, Nonny, I really do. And I know the definition of fetish. But AGAIN, these are characters, not real people, and you’re disregarding other aspects of shipping. Not everyone reads smut to get off. And even if they did, why is that so bad for some people? Personally, I read it because I enjoy reading stories about my favourite characters enjoying being together. I enjoy the dynamic, the possibilities, the chemistry and the love. That it’s never too late to find your person. That two broken souls can help heal each other.

Anyway, TL;DR of all this is: 

YOUR experience is NOT someone else’s experience. 

You didn’t see Sherlock as queerbaiting? Fine, but please understand there’s a reason so many other people DO and it’s not just fandom saying it. The general audience also has said it’s queerbaiting.

You see shipping as fetishization? Okay, and that’s fine. Your definition of fetishization means fictional people having sex, I guess. Maybe I’m just genuinely naïve, but... isn’t that kind of... TERF-y or homophobic? I mean... many people use same-sex shipping and assorted headcanons to help them understand themselves and their sexuality. And why is M/F shipping NOT fetishization, given the broad definition you’re implying by your ask? And I don’t want to get too deep into asexuality, but read up on aegosexuality. Are you then saying aces are fetishists too? Seems like aces can’t enjoy anything, I guess.

They’re fictional characters. Not real people.

Look, I’m stupid and naïve, I get that. And if I have the wrong take here, I’m genuinely interested in hearing your respectful thoughts, along with other people’s. Just, please respect and understand that everyone is not YOU.��It’s rather selfish to think that your experiences are everyone else’s, if I’m being honest.

I’m not asking for you to “see my side of things”, just to have a bit of empathy, is all. It can go a long way in a world where just being who you are can get you killed. Fandom and shipping is an escape for a lot of people, because reality is a cruel son of a bitch.

All this said, Nonny, I just want you to be safe and healthy. If discussions of shipping and queerbaiting bother you, please black list the tags, get out of fandom, and please take care of yourself.

[prrplwtch]

Can we please get headcannons of the brothers reacting to an MC who is trying to tease them in public, maybe at the the dinner table or in meetings etc. ❤

Ok nonnie 💜

Lucifer

When Lucifer gets a text from MC during the student council meeting, he is a little surprised - after all, MC is sitting right across from him, why would they need to send him a text?

He glances at the screen to see what the message was about, and, suddenly feels hot blush rise in his face. 

The message is pure filth. Not that he minds, but he’d rather MC say that to him in a more private setting.

Quickly turns the phone over to make sure that no one sitting next to him can read it. 

Looks at MC, who smiles shamelessly and gives him the look full of promise. 

It’s really hard to wait until the end of the meeting. 

Tries his best to hide the fact just how distracted the message made him. 

As soon as the meeting is over, approaches MC and asks to have a word with them. 

Once they are alone, pulls MC close and says, “You know there are consequences for distracting me like this?”

“That’s what I was hoping for,” MC tells him with a smirk. 

Mammon

Mammon was sitting next to MC in the dining hall of the academy, when suddenly, he could feel her hand on his knee. At first he did not react, but then he felt their hand creep higher and higher up his leg. 

Immediately he found himself blushing quite profusely. 

“MC,” he whispered as their hand reached his upper thigh, “What are you doing?”

“As if you don’t know,” MC smirked as they looked at him, “Now then try to play along - we wouldn’t want anyone to know about our little game, would we?”

Mammon did not know he could blush that deeply - it was so embarrassing that they chose the dining hall of all places to do this - but he also did not want them to stop. 

MC’s hand snaked even higher up his thigh, when, suddenly, Beel who was sitting across from them, looked at him and said, “Mammon are you alright? You look very red.”

“F-fine,” Mammon stuttered, trying to contain a gasp, as MC brushed their fingers ever so slightly over his arousal. 

Luckily, his brother seemed to be satisfied with his answer, so he got back to his lunch. 

MC continued touching him, making Mammon’s head spin with desire. Then, suddenly, they moved away their hand.

“Why’d ya stop?” he whimpered into MC’s ear. 

“Well, it’s not like we could go any further here,” MC laughed, “So you’ll have to wait till we are back home.”

He could not - luckily he knew there was an empty classroom on the way from the dining hall to their next class. 

Leviathan

Levi was sitting in class, when suddenly, his phone buzzed. As he looked at it, he saw that the message was from MC. “I was having a difficult time deciding which outfit is better to wear for the cosplay. I hope you can help me.”

Levi shook his head - did they really need cosplay advice in the middle of the Demonology class? Still, when he looked over to MC they just smiled at him, and he sighed. Fine. 

As soon as he opened attached photos, Levi’s face felt as though it was on fire. 

The cosplay MC was doing was quite revealing, and in every picture they were wearing less clothes than in the previous one. He quickly looked up from the phone, as he felt his heart pound in his chest. 

What are they thinking? 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed again. Levi knew he should not look at it, and he didn’t - at least for the first few minutes. But then, curiosity got the better of him, and he decided to see the new message. 

Blood rushed to his face as his head spun - in the last picture MC was laying on bed in all of their very naked glory. 

Before he had a chance to do anything however, another message appeared on his screen.

“Oops,” it read, “Sent that last one by accident.”

Levi could not wait for the class to be over - he really needed some alone time after what he just saw - but as soon as the bell rang, MC approached him. 

“You can’t just send me things like this without warning,” Levi told them, “That’s unfair.”

“Sorry about that,” MC responded in the tone that showed they were not sorry at all, “But did you decide which one is better? Or would you rather see everything in person?”

Satan

Satan had noticed MC acting differently since the early morning. They’d made sure to brush up against him more times than they usually did, and every time they reached out to touch him their hand lingered a few moments. 

It was getting quite distracting, but Satan resolved to not say anything. After all, he had no intention of admitting just what kind of effect they’d seemed to have on him.

It was getting quite difficult to ignore, however, and became even more so when they were in the library after school, working on a group project for history of the Devildom with Simeon and Solomon

Satan was sitting right next to MC, when suddenly, he felt their hand on his upper thigh. Immediately, he felt blush rise to his face. 

What do they think they are doing?

He was not sure how to react, as he felt their hand move higher. It wasn’t like he’d found their touching unpleasant in any way, but not in the library. 

He glared at MC, who only smiled at him and continued doing what they were. 

Mercifully, there was a book that Satan needed to get from the shelves for the assignment, and, as he got up, MC removed their hand. 

“MC do you mind coming with me to help me find the book?”

As soon as they were outside of the earshot of Simeon and Solomon, Satan turned to MC. 

“What do you think you were doing?” he asked, angrily. 

“Trying to get your attention, of course,” MC pouted, “You’ve been ignoring me since the morning.” “But, it appears it worked,” they added with a smile, making Satan sigh. What was he going to do with them?

“Let’s finish with this project quickly then,” he said, “So that I can give you my undivided attention.” 

Asmodeus

Asmo was sitting next to MC in class, when suddenly, MC quietly whispered, “Hey, Asmo.”

“Yes, my dear,” Asmo replied, moving closer to them - anything was better than listening to this most boring lecture on the history of Devildom. 

When MC leaned in closer, Asmo’d expected them to whisper something mean about their teacher - or one of their classmates. After all, that’s how the two of them usually entertained themselves in the class. 

Instead, what passed MC’s lips was absolute, pure filth - about the things they wanted to do to him. 

Asmo could hardly stop himself from squealing in delight - he’d heard them speak dirty before, of course, but never this explicitly. This was so exciting.  

To demonstrate just how excited he got upon hearing those words, Asmo leaned close to MC’s ear and told them in great detail, just what he wanted to do to them. 

As he moved away, he reveled in the bright blush that bloomed on MC’s face. Sure, they were quite brazen in their descriptions, but no one could compare to the avatar of lust himself, when it came to talking about sex.

He could hardly wait for the class to be over. 

As soon as the bell rang, and everyone started gathering their stuff, Asmo put his hand on MC’s arm. 

“Let’s wait a while - this classroom will be empty during the next period,” he said with a smile. “Wh-” MC started then stopped as realization dawned on their face, “I thought we’d wait till we return back home.”

“Ah, dear, you cannot tell me things like that then keep me waiting for that long.”

Beelzebub

Beel does not realize it at first what MC is doing - he usually does not pay attention to much when he’s eating. But, when they are sitting in the dining room of the House of Lamentation, having dinner with the rest of the family, suddenly, Beel finds himself watching how MC’s eating. 

They are sitting right across from him, and he notices that they are very thorough about cleaning off all the pudding from her spoon. He does not pay it much attention, at first. That is, until they meet his gaze and proceed to lick the spoon. 

He finds himself blushing - suddenly, his mind is conjuring up the images of the previous night, when they’d looked at him just the same way as they were…

What am I thinking about? 

Knows he should look away to calm down his racing heart, but he cannot he’s utterly mesmerized by how thorough MC is with making sure the spoon is clean. 

They are not doing this on purpose, he tries telling himself, Why am I reacting like this? 

It takes an effort, but he succeeds, at making himself look away from MC and focus on his food. Beel thinks the incident is over - that is, until his phone buzzes. 

He looks on the screen and notices that the message is from MC. 

“There’s a taste of something else I’d like to have after dinner, if you are up for it,” the message reads. 

Beel had never before in his life blushed this profusely. 

Belphegor

As Belphie’ sitting at dinner, he cannot help but sigh. He’d much rather be in his room, but it’s not like he has choice - the brothers had agreed to sit down family dinners at least three times a week.

MC, who is sitting next to him, turns to him and whispers, “Is something wrong?”

“I’d much rather be in my room sleeping, than here,” Belphie tells them. 

“Oh?” there’s amusement in MC’s eyes, “Well, I can related - there are definitely things I’d rather be doing than sitting here.” “Like what?” Belphie asks, curious. 

When MC leans close to his ear and whispers what they’d rather be doing, Belphie’s breath catches in his throat and his cheeks feel as though they are on fire. He’d never expect such unadulterated filth would come from their mouth. 

He glances around to make sure no one else heard. But, luckily, it appears the rest of the brothers are quite taken with the conversation and are not paying attention to them. 

“Must you be like that?” Belphie whispers to MC. 

“What? It’s not like you minded when yesterday I…” MC’s words bring even brighter blush to Belphie’s face as his mind conjures up the images of the previous night. 

Heat spreads through his body and he can hardly wait for the dinner to be over. 

As soon as dinner is over, he’s dragging MC up to the attic, to show them what happens when they tease him so. 

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Hiya, might I get a maid of time analysis? Please and thank you! ^v^

As always, I can only give a little sneak peek! ;3c But I always make sure to cover the most important and/or big parts of it!

~~~~~~~

Now, the Maid of Time is a fascinating Classpect; and is one that many are aware of! It is a person who embodies so many things all at the same time, that their presence is one not short of being highly magnetic and electrifying. They are made of Time and all of its forms; literal, metaphorical, and emotional. For the literal Time, they are someone who most likely is highly attuned to the ever forward march and flow of time. Not a moment passes them by where they are not aware of their present moment, but also of their past decisions and the ones to come in the future. They are the most aware of Time when it comes to their friend group, and as such will often make sure that events to come will be seen through. Making sure appointments, dates, destinations, and other important events are met; they help to usher everyone to their places on the universe’s stage before the curtain has a chance to be pulled back. They are not the playwright, but more so the director who holds the script.

They are also someone who is drawn towards the macabre; of death, decay, and all that comes after it. When they see a skeleton on the road, they do not see tragedy, but instead a creature’s cycle come to a close. They find solace in two words; The End. Because although everything around them is always changing, for better or for worse, there is that certainty that it will eventually come to a stop. And with it, a new cycle shall begin. Maids of Time are surprisingly philosophical people, sometimes giving a few Mind-bound a run for their money when it comes to their logic and philosophies. They see the beauty that comes in death, because they know that every end creates room for a new story to start. One could argue that the Maid of Time is one made of death and/or decay; perhaps they themself have experienced a tragic loss of some kind, but did not go through a normal journey of recovery and grieving. Perhaps in that tragedy, they saw a grace that so few people are capable of comprehending. Not that the Maid of Time cares what other people think, of course.

Of course, the Maid of Time is also one who is made of a fiery, fighting spirit. They are one of the first people to spring into action when injustice is brought to their attention, and they are the most likely to see to it that such a thing is fixed. After all, they are trying to make sure that everyone is at their peak performance; if one person is slacking, or making it difficult for others to perform, then they would surely be one crummy director to simply ignore these problems.

However, don’t let this fool you; this attitude is one that the Maid of Time carries, but they also are still one who is greatly at war with their Aspect. They are aware of the passage of time and as such make sure everyone is where they need to be, yes, but they are one who constantly lives in stress because of it. They love the macabre and fawn over death, but only because they are not a stranger to it. The Maid of Time is one covered excessively in scars from wounds long since past, but will surely have many more to come. They seek out ways to fix injustice, yes, but rarely do they ever pay attention to or care to the injustices dealt to them. They are still fighting against their Aspect, and they still hold a sense of wariness towards it.

During the Maid’s journey, they may try to neglect their duty as a director, or leave it up to someone else to fix and create. The reason why this plan cannot be sustained is because no one can do it like the Maid of Time can. Their Classpect is unique, and so nothing could ever completely replace them and their place in the story. Therefore, something drastic needs to happen in the Maid’s life that would bring them closer to their Aspect. Perhaps a loved one is in danger or experiencing an injustice so harsh that only the Maid can fix it, or they themself are in dire need of their Aspect and its functionality to remain intact.

No matter what, as much as some Maids of Time may desire to see their Aspect be torn apart, and the sands be free of their glass prison, they would have to learn that there is a time and a place for allowing such things to happen. By the time they would come to this epiphany, though, Time would already be left in quite the state of disarray. Timelines would be a mess, the order of events would be wrong and all over the place, and the morale of all their friends would be quite low. Because of this, the Maid would have to work towards learning how to create their Aspect.

Creation of Time is a power very many wish to achieve, yet very few are actually granted it or are even able to handle it. This is actually for good reason, as Time is a surprisingly delicate Aspect. Too much of it, and it all is put at risk of collapsing in on itself. Too little, and everything will slow down to a standstill, as well as feeling extremely one-track. The Maid of Time is meant to help keep Time in check, making sure that there is not too much but also not too little.

They are someone who can create timelines on a whim, as much as they so desire. They can also create Time in small pockets of existence - making the flow of time slow down to a complete halt in one place, while speeding things up in another. In order to do this, the Maid of Time would have to be quite the chaotically organized individual, with levels of knowledge and awareness that may rival even the greatest Mind-bounds, Light-bounds, and Void-bounds.

As for more realistic powers of creating Time, the Maid is one who would seemingly always have the chance to sit down and talk with someone or even multiple people! They always have time to spare in their schedule, or at the very least are good at making a bubble of respite amidst the rush of life. A Maid is very capable and excellent at starting something, stopping it, and then starting it back up again. They are near masters of rhythm and beats, one might even say; always remaining on the key they need to reach and the page they need to be on.

There are many other ways for a Maid of Time to create Time, but that will be saved for the much more official analysis!

Now, creating through Time is when one is when the role of Stagehand and Director truly come into play for the Maid. By creating through Time, they are setting up the dominoes needed in order to create a massive, narrative chain reaction so that order is maintained throughout the flow of time. If someone needs to check the mail at a certain time, the Maid will do all they can to ensure that the mailman gets there on time.

More realistically, a Maid of Time who creates through Time is one who creates through perseverance. Which is to say, once a Maid of Time begins a project, they are most certainly going to see it through to the end; even if it’s all on their own. Every moment counts when it comes to a Maid of Time’s creation process, and while they certainly are capable of messing around with their schedule, it’s something they find quite disruptive to their very own wants, needs, and flow. When that inspiration starts to die out, the Maid may feel very guilty for not being creative; but what’s important for them in this moment is to allow their Aspect, and themself, to recuperate. Even though they are made of their Aspect, it is and always will be a finite source - no flame can burn forever.

The Maid of Time is a fiery, passionate, and justice-bringing friend and ally to have. They are full of life, and also a love for death and all things macabre. They can see the beauty in a bakery full of sweets as much as they do the moss and flowers blooming through the skull of an animal. Mystery, yet often alluring, people find the Maid of Time fascinating and off-putting; the two often going hand-in-hand to draw people closer to the Maid. Yet no matter how many people surround them, the Maid ultimately cares more about their own personal projects than anything else. They strive for completion of cycles, for the story to have an ending, for the curtains to be drawn on a story in which they put their hands in.

The Maid of Time is a force to be reckoned with, and an ally - perhaps even friend - to be had.

~~~~~

This has been in my drafts for a WHILE oops jdfnvjdn sorry about the very late response, nonnie!! But I do hope this does help to give a better understanding on the Maid of Time!

[youngdumbamericanteen]

Mabel bad?

Oof sorry for never answering you nonnie! I’ve been pretty busy lately haha. But the post you’re responding to is a bit...old. I now understand Mabel a bit more now as a person, however I do still dislike her as a character because her flaws I was talking about in that post are never meaningfully addressed. 

This might get a wee bit long, oops. Click for a big Gravity Falls writing analysis/essay/thingy.

It’s good for characters to have flaws. Flaws that actually affect them and have consequences. Otherwise you have something of a Mary Sue that isn’t relatable and has a story that’s too easy and boring for the audience. The narrative punishes or addresses those flaws and they present a challenge for the character.

But at the opposite end, you have characters who have flaws that the narrative never addresses, which means the characters never have to grow. There’s two reasons this is bad. One, that you can have the same issue where they don’t face any struggle or grow as characters and it’s a boring story, or two, people don’t generally like to root for characters who they’d want to punch if they ever met them irl. You can have a story with main characters who are bad people, but you have to either make the character likable in other ways, present the situation so that the audience can gather that they’re in the wrong and either be rooting for their downfall or their growth, or have their actual story be compelling enough that the need to know what happens next outweighs dislike for the character. (And all of these things often require the story to be told from said bad character’s point of view.) Gravity Falls doesn't really do any of these things. Or rather, it tries but is ineffective for around 50% of the viewers.

Mabel is often presented as a pure soul, good of heart and just overall a good person. But she’s got flaws. She’s selfish and a bit inconsiderate, which is normal and not an unforgivably terrible thing, especially for a 13 year old girl figuring out her place in the world. All the Pines are a bit selfish, I think it runs in their genes. But the thing is, the show will treat her selfishness as perfectly fair and normal, with anyone her selfishness affects being shown as in the wrong. She often guilts people, mainly Dipper, into sacrificing things for her while rarely making any sacrifices of her own. She does it to other characters as well, but here’s a brief list of times Dipper has sacrificed something for Mabel (which I compiled with the help of this post on Quora):

 Tourist Trapped: Dipper spends almost the entire time worried about Mabel’s safety and trying to protect her, while she just brushes him off and laughs at him.

The Hand that Rocks the Mabel: Dipper agrees to break up with Gideon for her.

Time Traveler’s Pig: Mabel insists that Dipper give up the reality that doesn't break his heart so that she can adopt Waddles, and when he initially refuses she purposely endangers the space-time continuum as retaliation. 

Little Dipper: Mabel is very angry about Dipper making himself taller, even though Dipper would not have resorted to it if now for her teasing. She immediately demands and fights for the magic flashlight, causing it to fall into Gideon’s hands.

Summerween: Mabel drags Dipper out to go trick-or-treating in a costume he dislikes because she’d planned on them having a duo costume.

Boss Mabel: I shouldn’t even really have to explain this one, the whole episode is about her going on a power trip.

The Deep End: Mabel embarks on a rescue mission for Mermando, doing and using things that would lead to Dipper being fired from the pool job he loves, without consulting him at all. She hears his concerns and instead of just explaining she’s saving Mermando the first time, she completely ignores him and speeds off, destroying more pool property and ensuring he’ll be fired.

Carpet Diem: Dipper informs her of the the issues he has with her roommate habits, and she completely denies any fault, even though she and her friends had legitimately destroyed the room and the mini-golf course the twins had built. The two of them both overreact, and act selfishly throughout the entire episode, but she absolutely refuses to listen to him.

Boyz Crazy: This one isn’t Dipper but I still wanted to mention it because she is so ridiculously selfish throughout the whole episode, to the point where it’s to her and the people she loves’ detriment.

Dreamscapers: Again not Dipper or a sacrifice, but her worst nightmare is apparently losing her cuteness and becoming ugly. I dunno if that’s exactly selfish or anything but God did it make me wrinkle my nose in distaste.

Sock Opera: After promising to help Dipper with the laptop, she almost immediately abandons him for her crush of the week, then proceeds to ignore him for, and inconvenience him with, her puppet show, taking his things without asking and expecting him to be completely cool with all her actions. Bill literally mentions her selfishness to manipulate Dipper and it completely works.

The Love God: Dipper leaves Wendy and her friends in chaos to help fix Mabel’s mess.

Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons: Mabel, her friends, and Stan all make fun of Dipper and Ford and insist they should have full use of the living room.

Dipper and Mable vs the Future: This is one of the big ones that people talk about. Mable finds out that Dipper might want to stay as Ford’s apprentice and becomes incredibly upset because she dreamed of the two of them having fun in high school together. She sees Dipper and immediately makes it about her and her feelings, treating something he’d been dreaming of all summer (being The Author’s apprentice) as some direct attack on her happiness. She proceeds to literally give Bill the ability to start the apocalypse to avoid being separated from Dipper, all without having any sort of meaningful conversation with Dipper or considering his feelings.

Weirdmageddon Part 2: Escape From Reality: Out of all of these, this might be the one that gets to me the most. Mabel, seemingly knowing full well that she’s trapped by Bill, creates an imaginary fantasy land and refuses to leave just to spite Dipper for considering taking the apprenticeship. And despite doing all this, and attempting to convince him to stay with her, she creates an alternate “better” version of Dipper who’s “cool” and supportive and very, very, different from the real Dipper.

And this isn’t even mentioning all the times she just assumed she was completely in the right about something or had the moral high ground. Mabel frequently makes rush decisions because she thinks everything should be her way or how she thinks is right. 

And I want to say again, none of these things are unforgivable. Honestly, a lot of the things on the list are pretty standard sibling things, and like she isn’t even always in the wrong. The issue is that I’m naming at least 15 times where Mabel has been selfish or forced someone to give something up for her, and she almost never learns her lesson or is punished by the narrative. There are also only 2 or 3 times I can think of where Mabel sacrificed anything for Dipper, and they were all times he was in actual danger or someone had to talk to her and say she messed up and needed to fix her mistake. 

Dipper, on the other hand, sacrifices things for Mabel, faces consequences for his mistakes and his flaws, learns substantial lessons, apologizes, and rarely, if ever, repeats said mistakes. Now, this doesn’t mean that Mabel is awful and Dipper isn’t. I mean, Dipper does some pretty crumby things and has to be told he’s in the wrong or to apologize. And Mabel isn’t a bad person. Like legitimately, that is not what I want anyone to take away from this. She does genuinely love her brother and care about his wellbeing. She’s just a little selfish and unthinking sometimes, like anyone else.

Like I said, my issue is that it goes unpunished, and she repeats the same type of offense wayyy more than any other character. She’ll disappoint Dipper enough that he’d make a deal with Bill and then everyone will still say she’s the best and most caring person ever. That’s just annoying, honestly, or it is to me at least.

This isn’t dunking on her, this is dunking on the writers. And they aren’t unforgivable either, I mean Gravity Falls was a masterful web of foreshadowing, character building, lore, plot work, and incredibly intelligent humor mixed with jokes kids would love too. I don’t blame them for dropping the ball on Mabel, and I don’t hate her or the show or anything because of it. I just want us to acknowledge this flaw of the show, and also have people get it when Mabel gets on my nerves a little bit.

[jarryprompts]

Filled Jarry Prompt :)

Prompt: “Harry waiting for James under the Christmas tree wearing nothing but a big red bow please…!” Author’s note: I wasn’t sure whether or not Nonny intended their prompt as a reunion fic so I kind of put my own spin on things. I hope that’s okay :)… This was also only supposed to be a 1000 word (or below) oneshot but I kind of got carried away… oops. This fic features a fair amount of Romeo and seeing as I started writing this before the most recent episodes exploring his and James’s relationship aired, certain details may not be perfectly in line with particular events on the show (although I did attempt to tweak most of them to the best of my ability).

Words: 10k

Rated: M

Trigger warnings: Nothing overly graphic but a few references to James’s past regarding Mac’s abuse and Donna-Marie.

Mod’s notes: massive thanks to @jarryxox for submitting!! 

xxx

Feeling overwhelmed by the surrounding sea of emptiness that marked the approaching night, James stumbled his way desolately through the ill-lighted village with only the distant flickering of Christmas lights to accompany him on his path back home. He wasn’t sure whether it was to do with the day’s overhanging sense of unity and spirit and the way in which this conflicted with his own foul mood but today, walking alone with the image of his father sat across the table from his son at Christmas dinner etched mockingly in the back of his mind, well he felt especially defeated. It seemed that both the misery and alcohol had done a good job of numbing his senses. It’s not that James couldn’t smell the trimmings and potatoes laced in goose fat or hear the distant muffled blare of Christmas music, he just wasn’t fully aware of it. Pulling the freshly-purchased bottle of red wine that he’d been cradling protectively underneath his jacket in further, he noted shamefully how on days such as these, when there was little else to preoccupy his mind, the day would always end for him in exactly the same way in which it had started. How in both the early hours of the morning and the late hours of the night, he’d make a brief trip to Price Slice to purchase another bottle of wine, face always burrowed deeply into his scarf in an attempt to cloak his misery from the many prying faces that often pervaded the streets of Chester. He wasn’t quite sure at which point in his life he’d came to care so much about what the local ex-druggy, Ken Doll or a McQueen thought about him but shielding his face in his scarf’s soft blanket of warmth and security had become common practice for him in recent weeks.

And it always had to be the same scarf too. He convinced himself that the simple reasoning behind this was because it was the warmest, most expensive scarf that he owned but of course this was not the entire truth. This particular scarf was very special to him for two good additional reasons. Not only had it been personally picked out for him by his beloved grandmother Tabby, but he’d lent this particular scarf to Harry on more than one occasion. Often they’d even found themselves having playful disputes regarding the true identity of its colour. “It’s white.” “It’s grey. “I can assure you, as both its purchaser and proud flaunter for ten or so plus years, the scarf is white.” “You must have just gotten it grubby then.”

Sometimes on his loneliest days, he’d pull the scarf in tighter, close his eyes and allow himself to picture himself enveloped in Harry’s embrace. Of course cashmere could never quite replace the tenderness and delicacy of a human touch and Harry’s was more than just any touch. It was soft, deft, solacing, friendly, understanding, warm… but two glasses in and it was almost easy to pretend; almost. James often tried fooling himself that it was never really about the alcohol, never because he really wanted nor needed it. That it was merely an excuse for him to leave his flat on unbearable days such as today, a brief pause in the routine of solitary and sadness that he had allowed himself to slip into. If nothing else, it offered him the opportunity for a chance encounter with Romeo or his mother (even though admittedly they hadn’t exactly been on the best of speaking terms as of late), without having to go to the grand gesture of knocking on doors. But it wasn’t just that. Besides work and his slowly but surely blossoming relationship with his son, his customary rounds to the local mini-market followed by a thorough search down every turning and alley for a particular face, Harry’s face, felt like his only current motivation in life. Sometimes, in his dreams he’d find Harry dozing away in the folly, his face its same perfect, gentle sculpture, sleepy and content, oblivious to the anxiety and disturbance that he’d caused to James and his life. On other nights he’d have a slight variation of this very same dream and find Harry waiting for him outside his flat still dressed in his same sodden wedding clothes, face and body laced with bruises but somehow still smiling that same sprightly, infectious smile. Unfortunately however, when it came to real life, he never once did strike lucky. Some days he hated Harry for doing this to him. Others he simply hated himself for being so grossly lovesick and allowing himself to be demeaned in such a way. His surroundings being so dark and him being so intoxicated, James took extra care to make sure to keep a sharp eye out for any potential obstructions littering his path (which turned out to be everything in his drunken state; even his own feet). Ten steps in however and this particular train of thought was forgotten, abandoned by the realisation that he’d if not both rather unconsciously and selfishly taken the short route back home rather than his usual thorough loop around the village in search for Harry. Turning back and making his way over towards the folly, he could hear the distant rowdiness of a pair of mutual drunks, singing their own special rendition of Jingle Bells. Nice to hear something human, James thought, although the comforting sensation of Harry’s light breathing against his chest was the only sound that truly mattered to him right now. Finding nothing but a discarded newspaper on one of the benches although reassured nonetheless to find no latest headline of “young rent boy found dead in a ditch”, James was left disheartened to find that his unsteady slog towards the folly had been in vain. The passing image of Harry lying somewhere dead, of the lifelessness in his blue eyes caused a figmental headache to develop in the side of his head, so he allowed himself a moment to try and encourage the image away with a massaging hand. Once again however, his efforts proved futile. Willing to adopt any passing thought in order to drive away the dreadful images playing repeatedly in his mind’s eye, James tried inviting a different stream of inessential thought but his efforts somehow always ended up leading him straight back to Harry. Scratching frustratedly at his beard with his free hand, he tried a different approach of focusing his attention on a different kind of pain, leaving him to consider which one hurt him more: his moments spent wandering drunkenly alone in an empty street or drinking alone in an empty flat. At least, he told himself, when things still moved outside life went on. At least that way when he lay passed out on the sofa by half-eight every evening after his third or so bottle, he could trick his brain into believing that, even if only by the off chance, one of the many set of footsteps that he heard trudging by his flat at night belonged to Harry. He tried playing a similar enough game now, straining his ears that had been furiously tinged red by the cold as they scanned briefly towards the direction of each surrounding household. Each one of them an invisible speck in the universe. The Lomax’s. The McQueen’s. The Hutchinson’s. The Hutchinsons. He was sure that if he dared to listen closely enough, he would hear them now, all so harmoniously ignorant, continuing on with their lives without Harry with such careless ease. He tried distinguishing between each voice, tried pairing each one with a face but it was never the face he wanted to see; never Harry’s. In fact, it didn’t take much to make him think of Harry. He couldn’t quite describe the feeling but it was like the constant dull panging of a toothache. If only, James thought, sleep could alleviate this particular kind of pain. He needed a distraction from it. He did consider, perhaps for the fraction of a millisecond the possibility of paying a quick visit to his son over at 4 Oakdale Drive, his father’s current place of residence. That would certainly help to divert his thoughts away from Harry. His father had after all made it his life’s work to make every waking moment of James’s life a misery ever since the moment he’d been born. It would be difficult for him having to face them all at once: Mac, his mother, Alfie, Donne-Marie… but he knew that it would mean a lot to Romeo and at least that way he could show him that he was trying, really was trying… Deep down however, a part of him knew that this was a terrible idea and he wasn’t entirely confident that in his current drunken state he could resist the urge to turf his father’s smug, complacent ass straight out of his chair. Certainly not upon witnessing him attempting to poison his son against him whilst all the while, everyone else around him remained fooled by his newly reformed, frail old man act. Nor did he wish to contribute towards any kind of happy family pretence that they might have had going. Besides… he didn’t wish to give the wrong impression that he had only dared to show his face there for the company. It wasn’t exactly a particular desire of his to look that overtly desperate in front of an audience…

So instead, James resorted to doing what he had always done on his darkest days in youth, scanning over and counting the cracks in the pavement, tiptoeing between them as if they were snare traps as he made his way back home from school as a frightened, bitter teenage boy. He realised how stupid this might have sounded to any outside party but it gave him a distraction from the truth. Took his mind away from counting down the steps until he made it back home to that monster; to his father and whatever beating he might have had planned out next for him. But at least this way, as he invested himself in scrutinizing the concrete for any of its flaws, he could fool himself into believing that it wasn’t really his life, that it was the path to somebody else’s home. Mimicking those same youthful steps now, tracing the ground with those same vulnerable eyes, he even allowed himself to echo one same juvenile thought. It was a silent plea mostly, that if he had to have this life, if Mac had to be his father, if he couldn’t have Harry then he prayed that the sound of his footsteps mattered to at least one person. In the distance there was this disruptive clompling sound as a figure started to approach about to cross paths with him. So heavily absorbed however, in dodging cracks and the sound of his own drunken steps, James barely noticed it. It was only the blunt impact of human flesh, multiple shopping bags and the consequent driving of the sheltering wine bottle into his ribs that tore him away from his current trance and James’s head was left feeling all the more woozy from the sudden startlement.

“Harr-” “Oi! Watch where you’re going!” chided a scornful voice. Still caught off guard from the collision and needing a moment for his eyes to readjust, James opted not to rise to this particular scolding, instead continuing to hold his gaze towards the floor whilst he worked on recovering both his breath and balance. Then, shaking his head in a further attempt to will the fuzziness away, he tried to make out the sight of the figure stood before him. Heels, he could see a pair of heels. Hideous ones at that if you asked him. And a rather odd choice of shoes for this kind of weather, he added disapprovingly as an internal afterthought.

Once he felt fully braced enough to come face to face with the irked figure that remained towering over him, James allowed his eyes to disengage from the inadequately clothed feet and sweep upwards to find a much less than amused McQueen scowling fiercely back at him. “Ughh, Nightingale! Trust it to be you!” The figure fired a disapproving glance at James before thrusting her arms forward in as best an attempt as she could manage at shoving him, despite the number of bags and gifts she was carrying, causing him to re-lose hold of his footing.

Unprepared for this second blow to the ribs, James grabbed instinctively onto his assailant’s sleeve in an attempt to steady himself. “Ahh, Mercedes,” James unthreatened, began smugly. “So there is life on Mars after all. Glad to see we’re not all that far drunk on eggnog, false jollity and uncharacteristical kindness to the extent of being delusional.” “And there were me thinking that people of your kind spent the day with their faces buried up to their neck in paperwork rather than Christmas dinner.” "Actually,” James said, adopting an informative tone “that’s precisely what I’m doing.” “Oh, so who’s that for then?” Mercedes enquired nosily, eyeballing the bottle of wine that was now swaying loosely from James’s grasp. “That really is none of your business,” James responded bluntly, attempting to brush his way past her. “Go on!” Mercedes encouraged, further blocking James’s exit. “I won’t tell anyone. Who’s the lucky fella?” James stood staring menacingly at her for a while before relenting when it soon became clear that she had no intention of moving. “Okay, fine. It’s for me, if you must know. Do you know, it’s not until you walk the vacant streets of Chester alone on a dark December night that you realise how insignificant you really are in the grand scheme of things.“

“Bit of a morbid take on life that, don’t you think love?” “Maybe,” James replied unleashing a sad, ironic smile.“Only slightly.“ “Well if that’s what a mountain of paperwork does to your head, I sure am glad I didn’t choose to become a lawyer.” "Dad! There you are!” a voice intruded in an overly spirited tone. “And suddenly they all come at once,” James observed, hoping that the enthusiasm carried in his voice would help to conceal the uneasiness he felt at his son’s sudden appearance. In fact, rather ashamedly in that moment, he tried to picture Harry. Just the thought of Harry helped to calm his nerves. Not that he blamed Romeo for any of it but he longed for a day where he could look at his son without seeing her; Donna-Marie and that dreadful night. “Dad?!“ Mercedes was scanning Romeo’s face intently with an amused sparkle in her eyes before allowing her glance to slide back to James as if assessing both of their faces for any kind of resemblance. “You kept that one quiet. Full of surprises you are!” She exclaimed now satisfied, hitting James playfully several times on the upper arm.“Anyway, I’ll leave you boys to it. Besides, I’d best be getting off anyway. Mum’s just about to dish up the turkey kebabs!” James simply nodded in acknowledgement at her goodbye, before drifting his foggy gaze back to Romeo. “Romeo… Look, I know what I said about the possibility of the two of us getting to spend some more time together but now really isn’t a good time.” “And I suppose that’s your third bottle so far today is it?” he replied critically, noticing James’s unsteady stance and gesturing towards the wine bottle. “Well don’t look so judgemental. It’s to accompany me and my ever-growing bundle of paperwork if you must know. You know, James Nightingale, hot shot lawyer. It’s kind of part of the job I’m afraid.“ “Paperwork? But it’s Christmas…” “Please, don’t remind me. And tell me, what exactly am I supposed to be doing anyway? Sing carols? Gorge myself on overcooked turkey? Sit around playing Pie Face with my homophobic dad and my treachorous excuse of a mother? That’s the kind of thing normal people do at this time of year isn’t it?” James was playfully spacing his words as if to add impact to his careless derision. Romeo sensing that his father’s confidence was somewhat forced, allowed his voice to soften. “Well, surely that’s got to be better than—“ James cut him off abruptly. “Please, spare me th—“ “And I thought Christmas day without a father was bad enough growing up.”

“Oh come on, what exactly is that supposed to mean?!” “You really can’t see it can you? All of this, you’re just punishing yourself. You’ve got months of pent up hatred and anger kindling inside of you. You sit around alone in your flat, drowning yourself in drink, putting on a brave face, pretending that you don’t care and then there’s Harry.” “Do not mention his name!” James snapped, defensively taking a step back from Romeo and crossing his arms protectively across his chest. Romeo far from discouraged by this took another step forward back towards his father, securing a hand around one of his noticeably trembling wrists as a gesture of comfort before continuing on "You sit there telling yourself that you’re over him, yet you’re still blaming yourself. And the only person that’s suffering for it is you.” “That’s it, end of conversation!” Face both reddened from the cold and flushed from the outburst, James snatched his arm coldly away from Romeo’s grasp before turning to walk away. “That’s it walk away from me. I’m not the one that’s alone on Christmas day!” “I can’t believe I’m hearing this…” James began incredulously, before turning back to face Romeo. “Who would ever have thought that a woman with standards as low as…” he paused for a moment considering what would be a fitting enough jibe “Ste Hay’s IQ could raise a child to become such a critic!” “Hey, look back off! I’m just trying to help! I know you’ve both got your differences but I’d appreciate you not talking about my mum like that. I didn’t have to come here you know.“ “And why did you come here exactly?” James demanded, inching forward slightly. “Because if it’s presents you’re after, I’m afraid you’re going to be very disappointed. Besides what is it that kids your age are even into these days anyway apart from shoes and cheap-smelling aftershave? Love Island? Those ughhh… those spinny things.” “What, fidget spinners? No, they went out of trend ages ago.“ “Ahhh… the ever-changing, vacillating nature of the youth. Anyway, I’ve got to sort out my taxes and you’ve got a family to get back to. Say hi, to Juliet for me.” “Da- James wait!.” Romeo called out desperately after him as James made to turn away. “Surely you could make an exception.” James stopped in his tracks, scoffing briefly before turning back to face Romeo. “What is it with kids these days and never quite being able to get the point?” Romeo watched uneasily as James began fiddling with the contents of his right coat pocket. Then, pulling out a series of fifty pound notes and attempting to force a handful into Romeo’s clenched grasp he added “Look, take this and I will make it up to you at a later stage, okay? “What, no! You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want your money! I heard from Gran how you turned down her offer to come and join us all for lunch today.” "Oh that,” began James, pausing to give a harsh, derisive laugh. “How was it anyway, your nice little family get together? Cosy and snug, was it?” “Yeah, it was nice. Look, I didn’t realise things were really that bad between you two; between you and granddad.” Unable to bring himself to face Romeo whilst discussing Mac, James refocused his attention back to the floor, carelessly unsettling the frost that had began bonding itself to the pavement. “Yes, well… that is a conversation for another day.“ “You know the day’s not quite over yet. You could still come over. Play some games with us.” “I’m already playing a game my dear boy. It’s called harbouring a broken heart and trying to function on less than three hours of sleep. Besides I’d rather die—” “Look, would you please just stop with the sarcastic remarks. Gran said that you were likely going to end up spending the day alone and I don’t know… I thought that maybe you could do with some company but if you’d rather live up to the whole lonely, empty future prophecy that you appear to have claimed for yourself then be my guest!” “Romeo, wait!” James called after him, gesturing towards the direction of his flat. “I’d like that. Some company I mean.” Romeo simply nodded and smiled as James detected a suspicious, furtive look in his eyes before turning back as if to walk in the opposite direction to the one that James had pointed out. “Wait, where are you going? The flat’s this way.” “Price Slice to get some beer.” “Uhh, I think champagne should suffice nicely enough for you young man,” James said, leading Romeo away by the sleeve. xxx

Romeo flinched as James slammed his fist weakly into his front door, eyes narrowed in frustration at his continued futile attempts to cram a little silver key into the lock. “For crying out loud!” James groused before clumsily dropping the metallic cluster into a teeny arch shaped crevice on the cracked floor. “It’s okay”, Romeo said calmly, ducking gallantly to the ground to retrieve the fallen bunch of keys. “I’ve got it.” Flushed with frustration, James began removing his scarf. The cool air nipped at his previously sheltered skin and he shivered slightly. The thought that the cooling touch of night mist brushing against his cheek and now fully exposed neck would likely be as close to any form of physical contact (at least of the human, intimate kind) he would feel tonight made his stomach lurch with longing. Meanwhile, Romeo undoubtedly sober had succeeded in smoothly working the key into the lock on his first attempt and now stood smugly staring at James. This moment of triumph he felt however, was only a temporary pride as he soon found himself left with his own inanimate rival to contend with when the door refused to budge. James watched in unconcerned amusement as Romeo remained there fighting against it for a moment before opting to kindly put the boy out of his misery. “Home dripping with money,“ he began, emitting the sweet jangling sound of metal as he extracted the keys from Romeo grasp. "Victim to multiple break-ins. Streets bestrewn with innumerable criminals and thugs. Do you really think I’d risk leaving my home unattended to without double locking it first?” Romeo blushed as James fiddled around with various sets of keys before holding an individual key up towards the unlit sky, scrutinising it closely with heavy eyes. Satisfied he presented it to Romeo. The door opened offering a welcoming creak. Once both men had crossed the threshold, Romeo made sure to swiftly force it shut in a bid to keep out the uninvited cold. Moments afterwards Romeo turned to find James stood stock-still a few metres away from him. “What is it?” There was a solicitous tone to the boy’s voice. “I didn’t leave the lights on. Somebody’s been here…” “Are you sure? I mean the TV’s still on. Maybe you just forgot.” Leaving the TV switched on whilst the flat remained unaccompanied had only been a recent habit of James’s. Television could never be a true replacement for conversation but it meant not having to go back to a silent flat without Harry there to drain his hot water and leave biscuit crumbs all over his couch. He tried listening now, drowning out the unrelenting pounding in his ears with the familiar senseless sound of a festive family movie playing in the background. Background noise was after all the best company when there was nobody else. He knew that all too well from his solitary days and nights spent inside prison. James laughed bitterly at the thought that his earlier casual mention of intruders had indeed summoned one. “Yes, I’m sure! I’m just the fraction of the slightest bit tipsy, not senile.” He was positioning his fingers in front of him as if pinching the air in order to illustrate the accurate extent of his drunkenness.“I mean, seriously? What is it with people and breaking into my flat?! In fact, who even needs keys when you can just break into your own home? Everybody else seems to have no problem letting themselves in…” Romeo solely shrugged in response, reflecting with regret his own recent commission of this exact crime.

James relieved himself of his jacket, sauntering briefly over towards the kitchen area in order to reunite himself with his deserted, quarter-full wine glass before stroking the side of his nose as if considering something.

Romeo watched uneasily as James reached clumsily over the sink in search of some form of protection before settling his grasp contentedly on the handle of a well-sharpened kitchen knife with a twinkling blade.

“Wow, okay I don’t think that’s entirely necessary,” Romeo discouraged, teasing the knife from James’s loosened grip. “I mean does it appear as if anything has been taken? Seems like a bit of an odd time and place for someone to opt to choreograph a break-in after all.”

“No but that’s not the point,” James said alleviating the wine bottle of its seal before relenting “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe I did leave them on and I’m just being paranoid.”

Emotionally drained, James allowed himself to collapse into the firm, plush security of his sofa, gesturing for Romeo to do the same. Now would be a good time for him to offer Romeo the opportunity to spill any details he thought worthy enough of mentioning about his day, which James would acknowledge with dishonest interest with a few stray nods and insincere smiles here and there. Silence on his part would, after all, offer him the chance to recuperate and regain internal strength after another emotionally demanding day; that and another few glasses of wine.

Romeo complied, noting with amusement his father’s apparent abhorrent lack of hosting skills in forgetting to offer him a drink despite pouring out himself one. He was in the middle of describing Marnie’s idea of a fitting Christmas gift for a long-lost grandson when they heard the interrupting muffled thud of a tumbling object. Despite the effect of James’s carpeted bedroom floor swallowing the thump in a swift and soundless brutality, the noise somehow still sounded maiming to James’s own ears.

Two sets of ears pricking up in alarm and both heads turning towards the sound in a brusque manner, James got up with caution, firing Romeo a brief scolding glare of trepidation.“I told you somebody was here!” Romeo simply offered him an apologetic glance in return.

“Stay here!“ James ordered, handing Romeo his glass and removing his shoes before skulking his way over towards the bedroom.

Romeo obeyed readily, unsure about how this next part was going to play out.

As one of his hands latched shakily onto the bedroom door handle, James allowed himself a moment to inspect the scarce, suspicious glow falling in below the door. Then, watchfully turning the handle, he steeled himself to meet his latest in a stream of intruders.

A millisecond’s death glance at his trespasser and James felt as if all breathing had ceased. It was as if he had taken a bullet straight to the heart. His body remained taut in the doorway, face as white as bones in the snow regarding the intruder intently whilst fighting desperately to avoid his pleading gaze. He was standing right in front of the Christmas tree that Romeo (at the boy’s own insistence) had assisted him in putting up just two weeks earlier. Scanning straight past the near concealed hunger in the indescribably captivating blueness of his eyes, James allowed his gaze to fixate briefly on the hideous sight of a perfectly positioned, giant red bow tied a little bit too immaculately around the lad’s neck. Shamefully saddened to find that the bow’s perfectly-even trimmed ends were concealing a fair section of his naked chest, the images of them in bed together soon surfaced in James’s mind. Harry quietly observed as James’s eyes covered the entire length of his unclothed body, furtively withholding the urge to gather James in his arms as James remained unnervingly impassive. His jaw, a perfectly sketched outline, left unshaven. No bruises like he had dreamt. Abs still as perfectly formed and unyielding as the last time he’d traced them with delicate fingertips. Down further still, no further trace of clothing right down to his feet.

Harry feeling increasingly exposed at James’s hardening gaze and its accompanying silence desperately willed for the moment to pass. Soon enough, as if satisfied, James allowed his eyes to fall briskly towards the floor.

"James?” Harry took several tentative steps forward towards James. An extensive involuntary smile tugged at Harry’s lips. For a blissful moment, Harry allowed himself to replay his desired imagining of their reunion, of James falling bonelessly into his arms, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck in order to re-familiarise himself with the consoling cloud of Harry’s boyish scent. But James could barely bring himself to look at him. This was not how it was supposed to go. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what kind of reaction he’d been expecting exactly. Not that he could exactly blame James for opting to mask the conflicting emotion of pain and yearning with a hard-hearted silence but his rather dispassionate response stung Harry in a way that he couldn’t quite grasp; at least rage would have been something.

For the first time in months, James allowed himself to lock eyes with Harry to which Harry’s own automatically began to sparkle. James’s face was set hard like concrete, with not a single twitch of resentment or longing to betray him.

“Harry? Wha—”

“Dad, is everything okay?” Romeo froze in wordless terror. The boy was left in an apparent paralysed state of perturbation, all apart from his eyes which had darted with overstated eagerness away from Harry and now remained plastered on the ceiling.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated at Romeo’s unexpected arrival, Harry was certain that he’d never blushed this immensely in his entire life. Hands instinctively slipping in a downwards direction to cover himself, Harry repressed the urge to dive straight out of the window and leap onto the next departing plane to Australia, first forsaking his pride before abandoning his disaster of a life and its many chapters to the mercy of the many intrusive villagers (or cockroaches as James would say) that resided in the streets of Chester.

“I thought I told you to stay put,” James reproached trying his best to sound nonchalant, which was rather a struggle given the circumstances.

Numbly his feet carried him towards a small heap of discarded clothes forming a sodden mound carelessly by the foot of the bed closest to James’s side of the room. A jumper, a vest, a pair of jeans, socks, all dripping wet; odd seeing as it wasn’t raining outside. James released a weary sigh, infinitely grateful to find that Harry’s boxers were not in the same saturated condition as its sopping counterparts. He took a moment to quell the lurching pulse he felt at the base of his throat before turning back to readdress Harry, tossing the only slightly dampened pair of boxers aimfully in his direction. Harry smiled ruefully both in acknowledgement and shame.

Out of respect to Harry, James ensured to turn away whilst Harry made to dress himself. When James finally dared to speak again his voice was very low but still full of indecipherable emotion. “Harry, what are you doing here?” he directed to the floor.

“I…” Harry fell silent, his lips forming a soundless shuddering plea: James, I love you. Just take me in your arms and hold me, please. He was shivering.

James could feel the muscles in his hands twitching, still trying to process the sight of his half-naked lover. Whilst his head desperately told him to flee before his guard had a chance to slip and leave his heart defenceless once more, he couldn’t deny the inner compulsion he felt to just hold him. James’s mouth twitched as if intending to say something but said nothing. Instead he began edging his way across the room but only to retrieve an inadequately-sized fleece blanket from a pile of folded linen to wrap Harry up in. A groan escaped from Harry as James secured the blanket around his pale, trembling shoulders. He was slightly thinner than James had remembered which only made the temptation to submit himself to desire and secure him into a fixed embrace all the more difficult to withstand but somehow he managed. As much as he ached from resisting, James could not quite stifle a feeble, defeated moan from escaping his own lips. Harry’s leaping heart now just a hairbreadth away from his own, he was sure he could feel it reaching for him through the cold air, beating hard against him like a little drum. He tried his best to ignore it before leading Harry unresistingly away from the cold surroundings of the bedroom to the living room.

Romeo long departed from the bedroom by this time, was sitting hunched on the edge of the sofa, apparently so far engrossed in ‘The Muppet Christmas Carol’ that it wasn’t until he heard the click and consequent loud steaming of a kettle that he realised Harry sat awkwardly beside him. The blanket enveloping Harry was large enough to just about cover his shoulders but not enough to prevent several abs from peeping through. Romeo was almost certain this had been a deliberate move on James’s part.

Retrieving the hideous, red Christmas jumper that Harry had borrowed from him the previous year (and fucked him in, although he urged this particular thought to fall from his mind), James removed the bow from Harry’s neck before assisting him in shouldering his shivering form into the scratchy, insatiable embrace of the jumper. The jumper was a baggy fit and Harry allowed his hands to disappear into the cuffs. Draping the blanket over Harry’s uncovered legs, James wandered back towards the kitchen to work on making a coffee for Harry in a bid to warm him up further as well as pouring out a glass of champagne for Romeo; as earlier promised.

The dull smack of a porcelain mug on the coffee table signalled James preparing to get down to business, derailing Harry from paranoid thoughts about the possibility of losing James for good in failure of winning around his affections.

Meanwhile, eyes focused and unmoving and ears concentrating desperately on the sounds of the television in a strenuous effort to distract himself from the tense atmosphere, Romeo also started at the sound. When he heard the sound of his own drink smack against the table, followed by the brief scratching of glass against glass as James pushed it close enough towards him for it to be within his reach, he did not waste the energy to lift his head, assuming that his father’s acquired taste in alcoholic beverages would differ vastly from his own. Freeing his hands from the jumper, Harry wrapped them securely around the steamy mug and inhaled deeply, instantly feeling more awakened from breathing in the caffeine as well as alert from the transient sighting of James’s sullen glare.

Both Harry’s modesty and warmth restored, James prepared himself mentally for the gentle method of interrogation he had lined up for Harry, not entirely certain that he wished to know the answers. Restless and unable to bring himself to sit, he began pacing listlessly around the sitting area before planting his feet behind the coffee table, obscuring Romeo’s view of the television. Wine bottle and glass back within reach, he took the opportunity to pour himself out another glass and God he was going to need it. Shuffling as far to the end of the sofa as he could without losing sight of the TV or having to crane his neck to block James out of his field of vision, Romeo remained locked in an awkward position as rigid as a statue until a twinge in his neck forced him to reposition. The sofa’s thick layer of cushions meant that he was already perched awkwardly towards its end, making his position uncomfortable enough already. This as well as knowledge about the probable confrontation that was about to come between the two stubborn lovers did nothing to ease his discomfort. Sighing and surrendering himself to the unwelcome demands of discomfort, Romeo leaned back in his seat. Looking back up at his father, he detected an indication of vexation in his eyes. Maybe the champagne was a good idea after all.

Watching James take a long sip of his drink, Romeo was encouraged to reach for his own glass. Having uttered nothing since his unexpected encounter with a stark naked Harry, the soothing, bitter trickle of bubbles down his throat made Romeo suddenly aware of its niggling dryness. Likening the taste of the champagne to bile in his mind, Romeo forced down the second gulp pulling a discreet expression of repugnance so as not to offend his father.

Meanwhile, Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from James, towering unstably above the two of them as if about to perform a one-person show. Witnessing Harry staring at him as if his eyes were the window into the soul, as if they held the answers of how exactly to earn back the heart of a resentful, emotionally stunted lawyer, James was encouraged to speak.

“What do you want Harry?”James asked firmly, setting his jaw tightly to keep from losing his composure in front of Romeo.

His tone was still surprisingly calm. Usually Harry loved that particular uncertainness about James, like how he could never quite decide whether his eyes were hazel or green but this current unruffled demeanour of his was causing him anxiety.

“What do I want?” Harry echoed softly, pushing the blanket aside before rising warily up from the sofa. “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come back to you James.“ James swallowed deeply, only this time it wasn’t enough to quell his anger. “You’ve came back to me? Am I hearing this right?” James disbelieving, began shaking his head slightly as if to clear the buzzing of Harry’s words from his ears. Slowly, the rush in his ears that came with the echo of Harry’s declaration subsided.  “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through these past few months? Anything could have happened to you! For all I knew, you could have been lying dead somewhere in a ditch!”

A shiver coursed through Harry’s spine, the jumper, blanket and hot tea combination offering only an insufficient barrier against the lancing coldness of James’s tone. Harry all but stammered in response. “I know, look I’m sorry… I should have told you where I was… I just… I needed some time alone to just get my head straight. So much had happened and… I thought…”

James lacking both the patience and will to allow Harry to break into his usual long recitation of excuses cut him short. “You thought what? What exactly did you think was going to happen Harry? You thought you’d come waltzing back into my life wearing nothing but a tacky bow and I’d just be standing here with my arms wide open like the fool I am willing to put my entire life on hold for you at the flaccid snap of your fingertips? As I said you’re a child Harry and I’m not about to let my heart be stomped on all over again by a pathetic schoolboy who can scarcely manage to decide what he wants for dinner let alone who or what he wants from life. People move on. Maybe I’ll give you a little moment to try and get your puerile head around that.” He turned as if to walk away but his feet remained planted in the same position by the coffee table.

Harry allowed his head to fall in grudging defeat.

Witnessing this, Romeo repressed the urge to remind James of the little red bow he’d added as a personal touch to the box of shoes he’d purchased for him just a month ago in a desperate bid to win him over; that and the fact that deciding what was for dinner was in no way an easy affair. Bowing his head to conceal the involuntarily curling of his mouth at the memory, he tried contemplating what would be a more delicate approach to assisting Harry in making his father see sense before settling with “Apart from you haven’t really moved on, have you?”  “Oh what, so you’ve known me for five minutes and now suddenly you’re an expert on my love life and the inner workings of my mind.” James countered. “Hey! Don’t take it out on him. This is between us!” Harry interjected.

“Oh so what, you’re allies now are you? Friends? Well at least something good has come out of this rather unsolicited reunion.”

Harry felt a hand plant itself unconfidently on the side of his neck. “He doesn’t mean that,” Romeo affirmed, allowing his hand to slide down towards Harry’s shoulder before squeezing reassuringly.

“Oh, don’t I? Won you over like that did he?” James snapped his fingers. “And all it took was a flash of abs and five seconds exposure to his boyish charm.”

“Well he certainly did a better job of a first impression than you did.”Romeo retorted coldly, watching warily as James began eyeing him closely, subjecting each side of his neck and face to a scrutinizing gaze before turning to address Harry despite Romeo being the chosen victim of his incoming remark.

“Well, would you look at that? It seems as though we have a malfunctioning off-switch and just when I was starting to see the appeal. Remind me to find the receipt and ask for an earlier dribbling replacement model. Sons are no fun once they start talking back to you.” Harry lowered his eyes as James began inching in towards him, lowering his stance until his mouth was at level with Harry’s right ear. “That’s if I haven’t already succeeded in throwing you out by then,” he uttered in a low voice with the balefulness he intended.

The taunting made an angry flush rise in Romeo’s cheeks.

Harry on the other hand did not care for James’s games. He was too far engrossed in thoughts of a future where nights with James were no longer something to be craved for, where they no longer had to act on spontaneity, that and the equal possibility of losing it all.

“Yeah, well you needn’t bother with the replacement. I was just leaving” Romeo spat, rising so hastily from his chair that he felt a sudden cramping in his stomach. Harry looked up at him, a desperate pleading in his eyes as if willing for the boy to stay but he’d already torn his eyes away from Harry’s direction to busy himself with locating his jacket. “No, you are not!” James snapped. “Just sit down and drink your champagne!”

“I’d sooner drink toilet water!” Romeo bristled, still feeling the presence of its vandalising taste on his tongue and lips. Ignoring Romeo, James went to grab Harry by the shoulder of his jumper, fighting to keep his hold of the fistful of wool as Harry struggled fiercely against him.

“Wait, what are you doing? James, wait no!”

Grabbing onto Harry’s arm to secure his hold, James began tugging him firmly towards the direction of the front door.

“James let go!” Feeling the pull strengthen, out of instinct Harry tried his best to resist, planting his feet firmly at first before leaning backwards to make the act of dragging him across the floor all the more arduous on James’s part.

When James’s efforts failed to seize, Harry tried twisting his body around in an attempt to wiggle his way out of the jumper, which only resulted in a tight readjustment of James’s clasp on his wrist convincing him that the use of words as ammunition was probably a better option in trying to reason with James.

“I’m not going to let you throw me out again! I’m not just going to give up on us!”

Harry felt James’s grip automatically loosen at his words. “Us? There is no-” James returned to eyeing the floor. As Harry filled in what James could not bring himself to finish, a whimper escaped from him.

“James, just listen to me!” Somewhere in the midst of all of this emotional outrage and pleading, tears had begun tainting the natural blue glow of Harry’s eyes. He reached for James, tugging defeatedly at his shirt cuff like a kid reluctant to go to school tugging away at their parent’s sleeve.

“Do not touch me!”

“You said before I left that the only reason I was here was because I had nowhere else to go and do you know what James? You were right. These past couple of months away made me realise, now more than ever, I don’t belong anywhere else or with anybody else. I belong with you! You did this! You made me fall in love with you James whether you intended to or not.” “Oh so now it’s my fault is it?”

“Yes!” Harry croaked with furtive defeat, mirroring with hurt the look of lancing accusation in James’s eyes.

For several minutes, nothing more was said. There was just the unrelenting pin drop silence whispering the truth hauntingly to James into the distance. As much as he wanted to deny it, he could not be without Harry and whilst so much had changed for him since the day Harry had left, the overbearing love he felt for the boy was certainly not one of them.

“You told me to go James! You told me it was over!” With a visible effort James returned to talking calmly. “Yes, and what I meant by that was… Look I was angry Harry, justifiably so. And yes, admittedly everything that I said that night might just have been said in the heat of the moment but that doesn’t change the fact that you married someone else-“ “Yes and marrying Ste was the worst mistake of my life!” James went on as though not hearing him. “Nor does it change the fact that you just upped and left without telling anyone, without telling me! Without any means of communication—” “I know but James, it wasn’t planned. Look, after you threw me out, I went to see my dad and he… he made me realise that… that—” James’s insides constricted at the thickness of vulnerability in Harry’s voice.“That what Harry?” He prodded gently.

“That I’m a disgusting person!” Harry choked out.

At that a lump formed in James’s throat which he tried to coax down unsuccessfully. “Okay wow, when you said you were after an emotional reunion this isn’t exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Romeo drawled, just about done with the day’s events.

James forgetting that Romeo was there followed the direction of the voice, turning briefly to face his son who was now standing in his father’s abandoned spot by the coffee table.

“Emotional reunion? What are you talking about?” James uttered cluelessly.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Romeo shrugged off. “Don’t worry about it.”

Several doubts crossed James’s mind but it wasn’t long before concern for Harry took over, pushing away any thoughts he might have had about Romeo and the questionable innocence of his suspicious passing comment. 

Switching his focus back to Harry, James reached for him, planting a hand on his back before moving his fingers soothingly along his arm. Harry who stood with his head in his hands, fingers furrowed deeply into his hair, stirred at the feel of James’s gentle touch. For him the slip in James’s mask betraying his habitual overprotective attitude was just the small piece of normalcy in these past few months of emotional turmoil that he needed.

“Listen Harry, you’re not a disgusting person.”

“Apart from I am!” Harry pulled away. “You’re not seriously going to make me go through the whole bright young lad talk again, are you?” “Look, I’m sorry I should never have come back here. I’m an idiot for thinking this was ever going to work.” “No you don’t.” James caught Harry’s wrist before his hand had a chance to reach the lock. “You’re not an idiot Harry. Arrogant, conceited however, that you certainly are. I mean this, really?” James said, briefly lifting up Harry’s jumper and gesturing the length of his partially exposed body. “You thought you could crush my heart from leaving and just win me over like that?” “Are you denying that you weren’t in the slightest part tempted?” Harry blushed. “I just wanted to surprise you.” “Oh, well you surprised me alright.” “In a good or bad way?” “Well put it this way, even if I wanted to, I can’t.”  

“Why not?” Harry asked resignedly, sounding disheartened. James lowered his voice thoughtfully in a bid to spare Romeo of any further awkwardness. “If you honestly think I want my son familiarising himself with my sex noises before he’s even had the chance to discover my middle name then you can think again.”

Despite still hearing everything, Romeo let his gaze wander appreciatively over towards his father, finally thankful for an opportunity to leave. “It’s okay, I was just heading off now anyway,” he said, feigning an appreciative smile. “Thanks for the champagne.”

“Oh, it’s nothing” said James, waving a hand in dismissal. “Any time.”

“Yeah, about that…” Romeo began, pulling up the collar of his jacket in preparation for his much apprehensively awaited reunion with the frosty night. “I may have to turn you down on that offer.” Then he turned to address Harry.  

“I guess I should probably thank you too, for the…. rather unpleasant sight,” he said, making no attempt to mask the amusement he felt in his voice at the recollection of Harry’s predicament.

Harry looking away but sensing Romeo’s intense gaze boring into his back, shuddered. Hesitantly, he turned towards him nodding a momentary acknowledgment at his words of thanks before remembering something. “Wait Romeo, before you go… thanks for this by the way.” “No problem mate, any time.” James’s heart skipped a beat when he realised what was going on. “Wait a minute. Were you in on this?” “Mostly. Although he might have forgotten to mention the naked part…” Romeo responded rather matter of factly, with total disregard for Harry’s already harmed pride. "So that’s why you were so insistent on cluttering my bedroom up with a tree and cheap charity shop lights.” “I think that’s his way of saying thank you.” “Thank you Harry but I can speak for myself. Romeo… son… I just wanted to thank you…”

Romeo pretending to be underwhelmed at James’s words, screwed his face up as if awaiting more than just a simple thanks for his efforts.

“Wholeheartedly” James added readily if not willingly before opening his arms to offer his son a hug.

“All right that’ll do,” Romeo smirked. “Don’t push it. You’re most certainly welcome Dad.”

xxx

Hearing the door slam behind Romeo, James wasted no time in reaching for Harry in an unconscious act of indulgence. Grasping at the jumper’s woollen neckline he tugged Harry unceremoniously in towards him. At James’s touch, Harry’s composure began to crumble and he allowed his head to fall forward until it rested just below the soothing, incessant flutter of James’s quickened heartbeat. Harry closed his eyes tightly as James cradled his head lovingly against his chest, concentrating only on the sound of James’s breathing and how it calmed at the contact of his touch. It felt so good to finally hold him, to feel James’s warm breathe filter against his cheek, to smell him. Reaching up with his right hand, James brushed his cold fingertips along the fine layer of stubble on Harry’s jaw, around his earlobe and down his neck. Feeling his muscles stir under James’s touch, Harry grabbed a fistful of James’s shirt before reciprocating gentle strokes around the nape of James’s own neck, fingers brushing lightly over the fine mass of hairs there. James lowered his head and at as best an attempt as he could manage at trying to mould the quivering in his voice into something seductive, whispered into Harry’s ear "So, seeing as we’re now alone…” He was interrupted as Harry yanked at his tie, inadvertently tightening it in an attempt to pull James in closer. Harry’s fingers began working eagerly to free his lover’s neck of the long, restrictive piece of cloth but his hands shook so much with the cold and hunger for James’s body that he could not reloosen the knot, only succeeding in tightening it further. After several futile attempts of trying to release the knot, he allowed his hands to fall, inching back slightly as if to leave room for James’s incoming assistance. Smiling down at a defeated Harry, whose cheeks were glowing in frustration in a faded shade of cardinal, James began delicately picking apart the knot with his fingernails. Wearing a self-congratulatory expression, James allowed Harry to do the honours of removing the tie from his neck. Feeling James’s hand slip down towards his waist and cling tightly to him just above his hips, Harry was inspired to speak.   “So, tell me… what is it you were going to suggest we do Mr Nightingale?“ he uttered in a low, suggestive voice brushing a thumb gently across his lover’s lips eliciting a broad, mischievous grin from James. "Hmmm, why don’t you go and take these off, put that red bow of yours back on and I’ll walk back in without my sixteen year old son and try to pretend to look just the slightest bit interested.” “I’m not so sure about that.”  Harry teased, unlatching James’s fingers from his waist before turning his head mock sulkingly away from him. "After all, you did say that the bow was tacky?” James cleared his throat. “Well…” he began unperturbed. “You know what I said about how some things can be said in the heat of the moment and all.” Reaching for his face, James ran his fingers gradually along Harry’s neck and then down towards his chin, grabbing him firmly by the jaw and turning his face complaisantly back towards him. Looking down, James stared right into the lecherous gaze of Harry Thompson. The lawyer froze. “Screw the bow,” Harry said, heedlessly forcing James backwards into a fortunate soft landing of blanket and pillows. Harry sitting crouched over him, James assisted him in wrestling his way out of the Christmas jumper, relieving his soft skin of its unpleasant scratchy material. Skin exposed to the cold air and chest no longer encompassed in its safe pocket of warmth, Harry began to shiver, not that it at all longer mattered to him that he was cold. What mattered was that he felt an urgent need, one that could not be relieved without the sacrifice of his warmth. He wanted James’s hands and kisses all over him; his admiring touch brushing along every single one of his bones and joints, down every inch and crevice. Harry waited with bated breath as James began the arduous affair of unbuttoning his shirt, buttons escaping fitfully from his fingers at the sense of urgency for him to undress. Every now and then, following a stalled attempt at releasing a button, James would lean in to place a teasing wet kiss on Harry’s neck. “Aren’t you supposed to be the one undressing me?” James mused aloud. “Only if you want to be here all night.” Harry replied softly, beguiling the time it took for James to rid himself of his shirt by attempting to steady his hands, occupying them with gently threading his fingers through James’s hair. He paused occasionally to inhale its enticing scent. All attempts to rein his excitement were futile and he felt pleasurable shudders of eagerness course through him all the same. Reaching the final button, James brushed a hand over Harry’s sandy sweep of hair, running his fingers to the back of his head before coming to rest at the side of his neck. Forcefully stripping James of his shirt, Harry’s fingers curled instantly into the back of his neck, other hand stroking lightly back and forth across his chest causing the lawyer to swallow a moan. Returning Harry’s affections, James began trailing his thumb down the length of his spine, stroking from the base of his skull down to his tailbone, nosing occasionally behind his ear to plant firm, wet kisses on the edge of his neck. Sliding his hand teasingly around Harry’s back across to the graceful build of his abdomen, James began drawing along the soft indentations of Harry’s ribs before roaming downwards, hand stretching the elastic at the front of his boxers. The taunting touch made Harry arch involuntarily upwards. Nearly headbutting James in the chin, he choked down a relieved sharp breath. Then screwing his eyes shut, Harry exhaled deeply, preparing himself for what was to come. “James” Harry whined, cursing inwardly at the fulfilment he felt at the act of James easing the boxers past his waist, dropping at his knees. James developing quite some determination at the rate that things were moving, at how Harry near melted at his touch began guiding Harry’s fingers towards his belt buckle. James’s hands now clutching at his buttocks, Harry carried out the task of unbuckling the belt in a breathless silence, breathing labouredly through wide nostrils and an open mouth. With his fingers trembling as much as they were and incapable of shifting his position at James’s firm groping of his ass, Harry struggled with the buckle. Witnessing just how much Harry’s hands were shaking, James shifted to help, rising slightly to give a better view of the buckle.  “Got it” Harry announced beaming, looking up for James’s approval. James began kissing him for a while in ravenous silence, preventing any need for a response. As Harry’s hands began wandering down towards his zip, a soft sigh escaped from James. Feeling the tug below his waist, James reached for Harry’s shoulder, clutching its supple broadness for support, grip tautening as Harry yanked a little harder at the zip. Feeling the eventual downward slide of his trousers closely succeeded by his underwear, James pressed his face into the side of Harry’s neck sucking lightly, gripping Harry tighter still by the shoulders as the lad began groaning aloud pleasurably.  Unlatching James’s tongue from his neck Harry coaxed him back down, crouching over him to readopt their earlier position. James could feel Harry progressively hardening against his belly. Allowing Harry a moment to smother his body in tender kisses, James closed his eyes reaching up blindly to tickle the perfect curvature of his abs. Slowly, Harry lowered himself, pressing his face against James’s chest, caressing its fine hairs with rapture. Harry’s fingers reaching the edge of his hip, James laid his hand over Harry’s, stilling it. Taking a moment to appreciate the youthful softness of the hand, James began running his fingers pleasantly along the thin bones, closing his eyes in tender admiration for the simple promise of the incoming pleasure they offered.

Then unable to resist for much longer, James turned over, pulling himself from underneath Harry’s lithe form. Once again freeing his tongue from the confines of his mouth, James proceeded to cover Harry from head to toe in soppy kisses, silence broken only momentarily for Harry to utter “As if you’re starting with my feet?” “It’s called working my way up…. from the best bits.” As James continued working his way up Harry’s body, Harry tensed even more, clawing at a nearby cushion as he endured the pleasurable scraping of James’s beard against his naked thighs, of the warm trail of drool and breath he left behind. Then, feeling the firm parting of his cheeks, of James’s nose brushing against the base of his spine down towards his crack Harry cried out helplessly, eyes fluttering shut as James prepared to take him. 

xxx

They lay cuddled up together on the sofa afterwards, James clutching onto Harry’s hand, unwilling to let go. James having found a larger blanket to accommodate the two of them had pulled it far up until it rested snugly beneath their chins. All resentment and tension in their air was gone and there was only tenderness between them. Naturally, Harry laid in front of James, pressed tightly against him as the smaller spoon, James stooping his face slightly every now and then to nuzzle his face into Harry’s hair. They fit best that way. 

Tired out from the steady act of making love to his fit, young lover and relishing in the satisfying radiance of warmth that came as a result of their bodies being pressed compactly against each other, James had seen no reason to move. Harry on the other hand, was pained by the one small inconvenience that came with having his back to James, of not being able to admire his beautiful face.

Eventually resigning himself to desire and using cramp as an excuse to move, Harry gradually eased his way out of the embrace with an opposing James. James remained curled up in a worn out slump on the sofa, content and unmoving as Harry spent a long time looking down adoringly at his face, abrading his skin with his stunning blue eyes.

Pressing a kiss on his temple, Harry ran a finger gingerly across a small cut on James’s lip, not recalling the taste of blood during their rather intense and ruthless make-out session on the floor.

Looking up at Harry’s eyes examining his busted lip James laughed. “Don’t even consider taking credit for that. That was me trying to prevent myself from waking up the entire neighbourhood when you started… you know,  sucking…”

Harry remaining silent, smiled proudly at the not-so-distant memory.

 “So tell me, is this the best present you’ve ever had?” Harry asked eventually, voice still very much hoarse with lust. “Possibly a close fifth,” James smiled wryly. “Fifth? And what would that be after exactly.” “Hmm let’ see, first, a stolen childhood from my father. Second, a false murder allegation that nearly saw me get a lifetime inside. Third, nearly losing you to that drug addled, tracksuit sporting low life—” James began stating grimly before being cut off by a concerned Harry. “Yeah well you’ll get none of those things from me. I’m never leaving you again.” “Lucky me.” James murmured playfully to himself. “Oi! I heard that. So come on then what was the forth?” “Well, I was going to say a child spawned by none other than the prostitute that my worthless excuse of a father forced me to sleep with but seeing as this particular child in question was partially responsible for this most welcomed reunion with my living, breathing bed warmer—” James stopped briefly as Harry shot him a lurid death glance.

The snarky remarks slipped so easily off James’s tongue. Harry had worked him so hard he was surprised he still had the energy to come up with such things. “And might just be starting to grow on me,” he continued. “I guess we could settle for you leaving me to believe that you were quite possibly dead in a ditch somewhere. "Oh come on James, I’ve already apologised for that.” Harry said defensively. “So…” James added quickly, desperately willing for a subject change. “Tell me, how exactly did your clothes end up soaking wet?” “Well I may have run them underneath the shower in cause things didn’t go accordingly to plan.” “Ahhhh…” James quirked an eyebrow. “You know so that you’d think against throwing me out before I had a chance to explain things to you.” "And you weren’t, you know… living on the streets?” James approached this particular subject softly. “No,” Harry smiled assuringly. “I was staying with Mum."  "I see.” James sighed relievedly. Harry was gratified at the warm smile James bestowed on him in response. “Well, I guess now it’s time for your present.” “And what would that be?” Harry winked suggestively at him. “Round two?” “Not quite, although that could certainly be arranged…” To himself only, James questioned whether he would last a second round considering how much his muscles ached. “Although…” James began abstractedly. “Although?"  "Although, it might be your turn to-” James trailed off, blushing and Harry rewarded him with a grin laced with promise and determination.

“Anyway, your present…” James rose from his cosy nest on the sofa, pausing both to clear his throat and to retrieve something from his jacket pocket. Then, taking hold of one of Harry’s hands and positioning it so that his palm remained widespread, he planted two small, cold shining silver objects into its surface before placing his own hand firmly on top.

“Here’s your… keys back.”

[spartanguard]

1/3 Hi Kait!I was in my semi-hiatus happy bubble, but then I saw Colin's new Twitter post and the comments there. What is this even? Poor guy can't catch a break since S7 was announced and it's getting crazier. Now I see all the insulting shit coming from some 'CSers'. Not being with Emma, that's all it took (and for antiCSers to like him). Sad :( Besides that I read about that timey wimey stuff. I really think they can't contact Storybrooke because they are still here and it would change...

2/3 the future. That’s how it’s heroproof. We know Emma isnot pregnant till Henry leaves (so till she is 37ish) but I can’t buy thatHenry rode that motorcycle for so many actual years and when he called forhelp, it was more than 3-5 yrs for CS so Emma got baby maybe in her late 40s?Nope. I think time for Henry was quicker there or not but he is supossed tolook 22ish in EF2 flashbacks or what. What do you think? Also what is hard forme is figuring out 6x21/22 Lucy EF scenes.

3/3 Henry was somehow taken with the curse or whatever, butif it was THE curse, why did it take only him and not Lucy and Ella? Are theseanother ‘oops we forgot about this’ or will it have really clever explanation?Any opinion or tips? And is there something new besides this? I hope You arehaving great time :) SN

Hey, Sweet Nonnie! Ugh, Twitter. I just stay away. Or try tobe positive. But Twitter is just a black hole of shitty trolling that I refuseto go down, especially with as volatile as this fandom is. I’ve gotta imagineColin has learned to ignore it, though.

Onto the timey-wimey stuff…for starters, yeah, I think timeflows differently in every realm, but definitely in this EF2 (and wherever elseHenry has been). I got the impression it had only been a couple years since heleft Storybrooke, at most, but obviously at least 5 for Henry. I think there’sa lot we haven’t seen between him leaving home and the reunion in 7x02, and I’mhoping we get to see some of that now that Jack is there.

Agreed on why they can’t go back—because “back” hasn’thappened yet. If HH is 2017, then it’s already at least two years behind thevery beginning of the season (Henry should have left home in 2019, based on mymath and assuming the series did actually start in 2011). But then the questionis—why did they have to curse everyone back 15ish years? Just because, or isthere a specific event that someone (Drizella? Gothel?) is trying to get to?

I’ve been thinking a lot about the scenes from The FinalBattle, too. My best guess right now is that the curse took people in waves,especially with the way Tiger Lily told Lucy that she was only going to be withher mother. With any luck, that will be explained when Tiger Lily returns in7x10.

That’s all I’ve got, friend. Anyone else? Thoughts on theseoutliers? (I’m glad we’re getting to a point where there are fewer crucialones!)

Take care, boo!