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jenomark · 4 years ago

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Part 5: YangYang, The Rich, Little Asshole

➔Pairing: YangYang x Reader (Female) | Hendery x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Kun ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration, fingering, angst ➔Word count: 5,436

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

Kun leaned against his car and folded his arms against his chest. The wind was picking up, so you pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands and hunched over. No matter what, you wouldn’t wait in his car, like he asked. All Kun wanted was to grill you about who was on the other end of the phone call.

“You can go home.” you said. “ I don’t need you to wait with me.”

“I can’t leave you here alone,” he said. “But, it’s cold, so we should wait inside your place.”

“No.” you said, knowing that if you waited inside, Kun would try and worm his way back into your good graces, and you would let him.

Kun sighed. “I don’t...know how to fix this.”

You turned away from him. Any direction that wasn’t Kun’s direction was good enough. You could still feel the clutches of alcohol around your mind, squeezing until it was pulp. You started moving your feet around to keep warm from the chilly night air, but there was an iciness to you that wouldn’t melt. For the most part, ignoring Kun felt good. You liked seeing him waiting on you, maybe a little jealousy creasing the lines on his face.

To pass the time, you took out your phone and looked at your messages and emails. A little voice in your brain told you to delete them all. No one would know or care. You could start over tomorrow and regain control of yourself. You could come clean to Lucas, break things off with Kun, give Hendery the apology you know he deserved, and tell men like Ten and Xiaojun that they deserved far better than the likes of you.

You looked at the plethora of messages from another possible future client you were ignoring. He had been pushing to meet you for weeks. Every message title was the same kind of vibrant greeting, followed by the usual “I don’t usually do this…” You closed your phone and wished you were also the type of person that didn’t do this. What you did, you also didn’t know how to fix.

You looked at Kun. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the windows to your place, his face pondering questions you knew you would never answer.

“I’m moving,” you said. “I’m moving in with Lucas. In a few weeks, you won’t know me anymore.”

Without fully registering what you had said, Kun touched his hand to his heart. “I think I’ll always know you.”

You thought about taking off your shoe and throwing it at him, but violence was never the answer. “You never intended for us to be together, did you?”

Kun shifted from one foot, to the other. “It’s complicated.”

You shook your head. “I really thought you would, you know? Leave her. Not leave your kids. I knew you weren’t that type of man, and I’d never want you to be. But, Kun, imagining a life with you was too easy. It was too fun, too distracting, too much of a fairy tale.”

“My feelings were real.” he said. “I’ve meant everything I’ve said up until this point.”

“Were real?”

“Are real.” he corrected himself. “But you won’t let me in. If I knew you were like this, I would have broken it off a long time ago.”

Again, you shook your head. “You have no idea what you want.”

Kun opened his mouth to speak. You didn’t hear what he said, just watched the way his lips told lie after lie.

Of course he believes he knows what he wants, you thought. He has the right job, the big house, the pretty wife. He’s a father, a friend, and a good son. He’s handsome and good at sex. He knows all the right things to say.

You stayed silent until a car pulled up. The car was black, not unlike the one that Ten sent your way, and all the ones before and after it. The only difference was the boy hanging out of the window, his arms raised above his head, and his hair flying in the wind.

“Good evening.” he said, his slight German accent making your body perk up. “Your ride is here.”

YangYang. 20. Self-professed rich, little asshole. Daddy’s money, but not enough of daddy’s love, YangYang liked to dip his fingers into many honey pots. In the beginning, you weren’t sure you could keep up with him sexually, but as it turned out, you could. You and YangYang were purely sex and company, nothing more and nothing less. It was the most straightforward sexual partnership you had.

Kun looked at the sleek, black car and scowled. He was so sheltered away from your real life, that it was his first taste of the person you were with other men. Judging by his face, he was angry with you, but more angry at himself for being angry in the first place. The wheel of lies would never end, for him or for you.

“Isn’t he a child?” Kun asked, loudly enough for YangYang to hear him over the car's engine.

“Me?” YangYang said, looking mock-offended. “A child? Mind your manners, old man.”

The car came to a smooth stop and YangYang got out. He was wearing pajamas and a robe. He knew how ridiculous he looked, but he didn’t care. He was what he was. You looked down at the slippers on his feet and smiled. The smile stopped as soon as Kun spoke again, and YangYang noticed your reaction.

“Old man?” Kun asked. “I’m not o-”

“-Is everything okay?” YangYang asked you, not sparing a second look at Kun.

You nodded. The best thing about YangYang was that he never asked too many questions. If you said you were alright, you were alright. He motioned to the car door hanging open and said, “Your carriage awaits.”

As soon as you made a start to leave, Kun came from around his car. He sunk down to his knees on the asphalt in front of you. You looked down at him, everything in you wanting so badly to take him into your arms, to forgive him for the night, take him up to your apartment and fall asleep against his body. It was until you looked at how uninterested YangYang was in Kun that you were faced with reality.

“Don’t walk out of my life like this,” Kun said. “I’m here begging you, on my knees, on this street in front of everyone. Give me another chance. We can make it more than just sex, I promise.”

“You have a baby on the way.” you said.

YangYang’s eyes widened. “That’s fucked up, bro.”

“Goodbye, Kun.” you said.

You got in the car and stared straight ahead, not daring to catch Kun’s eyes . YangYang slid in next to you. He didn’t put his hand on your knee. He didn’t kiss you. He didn’t ask you what was going on in your life, or if you were okay. It was something you really liked about YangYang: how little he cared about what went on in other people’s lives. He was the right person to call.

The only thing YangYang asked about Kun was if he was also a rich asshole and you replied, that no, Kun was just an asshole.

“To my place?” YangYang asked.

“Yes, to your place.”

YangYang lived by himself in a penthouse apartment with two floors and a view that normally would take your breath away had your heart not been shattered into splintered pieces. A fun, colorful slide ran from the upstairs to the downstairs. There was graffiti art on the walls, splotches of neon colors on formally stark, white walls as a result of YangYang’s boredom. His style of decor was haphazard and typical of a twenty year old boy, in that none of it made any sense. He kept his fridges stocked with energy drinks, and his pantry stocked with more snacks than you had in all of your places combined. It was a much different vibe from all of the other rich men you entertained. Stepping inside of his penthouse made you feel like a child again. There was magic in every corner, but sadly, you felt none of it.

“You know I don’t pry,” YangYang began. “But you look really sad, like a sad dog.”

“Sorry.”

“Can I help with anything?”

You inhaled. You held your breath. When you exhaled, YangYang had moved on from the conversation. You set your phone on his coffee table next to a set of legos. YangYang walked upstairs to where his bedroom was. Through the glass partition, you could still see him. He removed his robe and ruffled his own hair. You turned to look down as a long-haired cat brushed against your leg.

“Hey little man,” you said. “Have you missed me?”

You and YangYang didn’t meet up that frequently. He was always horny, but he had a large amount of people he went to, so that every need was met. You didn’t know what other things he was into, but his times with you were relatively vanilla.

The cat meowed at the same time you heard YangYang barreling down his slide. You met him at the end, a playful smile on your lips.

“I really appreciate you coming to get me,” you began. “I know we weren’t scheduled this month.”

“No problem,” he said. “I could use the company. Things can get a little lonely way up in the sky.”

You never asked why YangYang didn’t have a steady girlfriend. He was cute in a really sweet, younger brother way. You never saw him as a brother figure because that would be pretty gross, but there was something about YangYang that made you very fond and protective of him.

“Anyway, “ he said. “I can tell you want to get some sleep. I’ll leave you be. You know where my guest room is”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Early. Tons of breakfast. Me and you. Doesn’t that sound perfect?”

“Yeah, it does.” you said, meaning it.

Even though you knew his place like the back of your hand, YangYang walked you to the guest bedroom. You and him had fucked in there only once before, but it was always offered to you as a place to get away for awhile. The only reason you never had sex in there much was because the room itself was so plain and formal. You figured the lack of life made YangYang uncomfortable to be in for long periods of time. Beyond the double doors and the slide, and all of these grandiose things he grew up around, he wasn’t a little, rich asshole. He wasn’t a playboy. He was just Liu YangYang, a lonely boy living in a lonely life.

You didn’t want to shed any more tears for Kun, or spare another thought about him. Before you went to sleep, you cried by yourself as a way to let go. You tucked your knees to your chest and you let all of the feelings pour out of you, your tears soaking into freshly cleaned sheets. You tossed and turned until the early morning, your night demons coming to haunt you. When you woke, you didn’t feel rejuvenated like you wanted, and Kun was still infiltrating the spaces in your mind you kept for yourself.

You sat up with a start, too disoriented to understand where you were, at first. Your head was pounding. It might have been normal to sulk in bed for a little while, but you got up and went to the on-suite bathroom to wash up. You pulled your sweatshirt and shirt off until you were in your bra, splashed water on your face, and gave yourself a good look.

“I think you look pretty.”

You jumped. YangYang was standing in the doorway. He had a fresh pile of clothes in his hands, as if he knew what you were up and doing.

“I didn’t mean to be a creep.” he said. “There are cameras everywhere, and I thought I might come and see if you needed these.”

You took the clothes from him and looked at yourself in the mirror after he walked out. He was flattering you. Your make-up and hair were a mess. Your eyes were puffy. You looked like you had been ridden hard and put away wet.

“I hate this.” you said

You looked at the clothes YangYang brought: a pair of jeans that looked like they might fit you, one of his t-shirts and a hoodie. Quickly, you put the clothes on, put up your hair using an elastic, and wiped away left behind mascara that was clinging to your lower lashes. You brushed your teeth with your fingers and some toothpaste, and went downstairs. You didn’t use the slide.

Downstairs, YangYang was leaning against his kitchen counter in a pink apron. The dining room table was full of food that he didn’t cook, pastries of every color and shape, a plate of rolled eggs stacked high, and many more things to satisfy his sweet tooth. You knew he didn’t make any of the food, but seeing him act like he was the chef tickled you.

“A feast fit for a queen.” he said.

You sat at the table. You weren’t feeling hungry, and you certainly didn’t feel like a queen. You looked at the food. It was such a wasteful array of things you and him would barely touch, and it made you sad. Your mind was starting to wander as you looked over everything, your eyes beginning to glaze over and replay memories behind them.

“Ah, that’s never good,” he said. “I know that look. Can I try getting your mind off of him? I could go back and fight him. He looked weak.”

You looked his way. “I wish it were that easy.”

YangYang was the type of boy who would wear absolutely nothing underneath his apron. He would lead you into the kitchen, put you on top of his counter and take your hand to brush it against the imprint of his cock. Marathon sex would ensue, and some time later, when your limbs were tangled in his, you would let him take you again. But the person before you tore off his apron and was perfectly dressed underneath. He looked tired, like he was dealing with his own personal issues. YangYang came and sat beside you, all the sympathy in the world, and none of the pity in his eyes.

“We can do whatever you want.” YangYang said. “I could take you for a day out on the town. We could go to an arcade and play claw machines until I’m out of pocket change. I’ll win you a stuffed bear and link my arm with yours, grease from french fries on our fingertips. We could stuff our faces here and pass out on my couch, you with the fuzzy blanket you like, and me with the remote control on my belly. We could pretend to be strangers that just met on the train. I’d sit next to you and tell you about my life. We could be anybody but us for today.”

“Honestly, all of that sounds good.” you said. “Being anyone else but me. ”

YangYang smiled, leaned in and whispered, “ You and me both, but, I quite like you how you are.”

“You might be the only one.”

“I doubt it.”

YangYang covered his hand over yours. You felt grateful for all the people in your life who tried to make things easier for you. Those people were never forgotten by you. Amongst all of the bad choices you made on your part, there was always someone who was ready to see the best in you. You could see it in YangYang’s eyes, the way he didn’t see some poor girl in love with a married man. He didn’t see the person who had sex for money, or the one cheating and keeping secrets from her boyfriend. He saw you as what you were, and the beauty of what you could be.

“Do I have to choose right now?” you asked.

YangYang pursed his lips. “No. We could just sit here until our asses go numb.”

You laughed. “Okay.”

“We could talk.” YangYang offered. “I know you and I aren’t talkative, but the option is there. I kind of need a friend right now.”

Making friends in the industry was one of the reasons why you still kept the job, even though you were mostly unhappy. In your loneliness, and in your ugliness, there were still people who wanted to be around you. They wanted your company. They needed your company. They smiled when you came around, and it was genuine, and infectious. On a deeper level, you suspected you were masking all of your real issues by seeing men, by being their fantasy, but you weren’t willing to dive into it too much.

So, as a friend to YangYang, you listened to what he had to say. You placed your head on your hands and watched him speak, his youth disappearing with every word. Not once were you lost in your own problems. Not once did you think of Kun, or Lucas, or Hendery.

“I don’t mean to unload all of my stuff on you,” YangYang said, leaning back in his chair. You noted how much younger he looked when he was done speaking, how much weight was lifted from his shoulders. “It feels good getting it out. That much is true.”

“Good.” you said. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give more advice.”

YangYang scrunched his nose. “I don’t think I need it. Just needed someone to listen to me rant.”

You lifted your head from your hands and looked out at the view from his penthouse windows. You wanted to tell YangYang that you needed him, too, but you didn’t. You felt scared, like your own vulnerability would show itself once YangYang showed his. You shifted in your chair and didn’t look at him again until he called your name.

“You’re too good for him.” he said. “You’re too good for all of them.”

“Mmm, if only that were the truth.”

You felt the itch as soon as he started speaking. You would rather scratch it with sex to shut YangYang up, to keep him from going further. That’s how your life always worked. You used your body to forget, to shut up the world for one second. You fucked to forgive yourself. It took all you had not to reach out and start something with YangYang that you weren’t feeling, just because you could.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” YangYang asked.

Expecting the worst, you fought hard to keep the surprise from your face. YangYang saw and laughed, his smile beaming. You found yourself smiling, too, wondering if his line of questioning was normal, because you were already grown up. You thought about the slide and the way he lived his life, and wondered if he still thought he hadn’t.

“Entertain me.” YangYang said. “An honest answer. Don’t even think about it. If you could be anything right now, right here, what would it be? Money doesn’t matter. Time doesn’t matter. It’s just you and doing something you love.”

“I don’t know.” you said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“But I genuinely don’t know.” you said.

It was true. Your mind drew a blank. For as long as you could remember, passions were really hard to come by. You weren’t interested in much when you were young. You didn’t have hobbies. You didn’t yearn to go places, or to learn new things. Suddenly, you felt the void in front of you, and it felt cold and empty.

“What about you?” you asked. “What do you want to be?”

YangYang got up from his chair and walked over to the windows. He gestured out at everything, at the city that curled up at his feet like his cat. You got up and joined him, your eyes penetrating the streets below. He stood behind you and touched your arms. You could feel his breath on your neck. He was hesitant in moving your hair, but he brushed it aside and laid the sweetest kiss on your skin. It was a tender moment that almost made you cry.

“I just want to be kind, I think.” he said softly in your ear. “I want to make a difference. I want to be happy and fulfilled. I think that’s all. I think that’s all there is.”

YangYang kissed your neck again. You leaned back into his body and watched a bird fly by, soaring through the sky, completely unafraid. You focused on your own breathing, on the silence that felt too thick with the past.

“Do you ever just want to quit the life you have and run away?” you asked.

“All the time.”

“Would you ever do it?”

“Maybe,” YangYang said. “I’m not sure if anyone would miss me.”

You turned around to face him. “ I would miss you.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” he said. “Someone would miss me, so I would never do it. Keep myself here forever, perhaps until I’m too old. If you want to run away, I’m not sure it’s always a bad thing. Sometimes you just have to go and see what is out there for yourself. Sometimes you can’t worry about whether someone will miss you or not.”

“You are full of the philosophical today, YangYang.” you said.

“I always am.” he said. “We just never stop fucking long enough to listen.”

You smiled. “I mean, we could still fuck, if you want.”

He thought about it. Watching him think about it meant the world to you. But there was something about the way it felt with you both standing there that was anything but sexy. The time for fucking had passed, and you could feel the future hurtling towards you.

YangYang shrugged. “Sometimes you need a good fuck, and sometimes you just need a good hug. Both are good.”

With that, he held out his arms. You took a step forward and let YangYang hug you. You felt stiff until he started rubbing your back to comfort you. Gradually, you could feel your body and soul softening. You wrapped your arms around him for a long time, thankful that Liu YangYang was anything but a rich, little asshole.

“Where have you been?”

When you came home, Lucas had come out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, and his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Your brain created a scenario where you laid it all out in front of him, every lie you’d ever told, and every secret you’d ever kept. Catching him while he was vulnerable and naked could be the easy way out you were looking for. You almost did it, but the way he looked at you began to make you feel angry. It was like you were insignificant, and he was tired and bored of even looking in your direction.

“I was out with a friend.”

“All night?” he asked. “Must have been a good friend.”

You didn’t say anything, because anything at that moment could have been the truth. Instead, you walked further inside and went over to hug him. You were still riding the high of being around someone as free as YangYang. A part of you wanted to keep the sentiments going, to feel comfort in the life you were living. But Lucas moved away from you, denying your affections.

“Why were you in my clothes?” he asked. “What were you looking for?”

You had two seconds to come up with a lie that would sound convincing. When you didn’t, Lucas left the room. You were still standing in the same place when he came back fully dressed. You tried to brace yourself for the end of an era, for the argument that would burn you out for good. You were not prepared for the cold shoulder, or for Lucas taking his keys and walking out of the door.

You: I know you never wanted to hear from me again, but Erase Message You: I’m sorry I hurt everyone. I never meant to hurt you. Erase Message You: Can you come to our place? Send Message

You sat on the edge of the hotel bed. You swore you could feel your soul being sucked out from your lungs and out through the grate in the wall where the heat should have come out. It was freezing in the room, and dark because of a busted lamp. It wasn’t ideal for someone who already felt as threadbare as the carpet, but it was the one place - the last place- he knew to find you.

After trying to reach Lucas through message, you had given up. You left the apartment after him and puttered downtown on your own. You had spent a lot of time thinking, watching, waiting. You were trying to recall a feeling other than the numbness you felt. YangYang’s warmth and vibrancy was gone. The hopefulness was slipping away every second you spent sitting on the bed, knees knocked together, and shoes grinding a piece of trash into the carpet.

You could feel yourself at the end of your rope. You had many choices, and all of them had you quitting your life as a sex worker and searching for a little slice of happiness. You wanted more for yourself, and from yourself. Spinning around in circles, your web of lies keeping you restrained, wasn’t your ideal life. All of those thoughts and more were rummaging around in your brain, when there was a soft knock on the door.

You weren’t sure he would come. If you were him, you didn’t think you would have made the choice. You got up and answered the door, swinging it open to see him standing there holding a wad of money in his fist, just like the last time you saw him. When he saw your face starting to screw up, Hendery’s eyes got comically wide.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “It was just a joke. A poorly timed joke. “

It wasn’t just the tears. You could feel your legs collapsing underneath you. You felt everything fall when you saw him. Luckily, right on time, Hendery caught you before your knees could buckle. He picked you up and carried you to the bed, his face full of worry.

“What happened?” he asked. He rubbed your head and sat with you in his arms, on the bed. “Did someone hurt you? What is it? Tell me.”

All of the words wanted to come out, but your mouth was like bumper-to-bumper traffic. You stuttered and felt yourself beginning to whine. You felt ugly that you were reacting in the way you were, but Hendery’s kind eyes began to soothe you.

“It was a stupid joke.” he said. “I’m sorry. I take it back. Please don’t cry.”

“It’s not you.” you managed to say.

You untangled yourself from his body and sat on the bed beside him. Hendery was inches away from kneeling down on the floor in front of you to look at your face. He kept looking into each of your eyes, his hands holding yours, moving to rub against your leg, and lastly, going to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Lucas?” he asked.

You shook your head no. Realizing that you were lying again, you tried a different approach. You moved yourself back on the bed so that you could face him. Taking the first step of honesty felt painful.

“You’re the first person in my life I was ever fully honest with,” you said. “But I still lie to you, too. Doesn’t that make me a bad person?”

“No,” he said. “I lie all the time. I lied when I said I never wanted to see you again.”

You took Hendery’s hands and held them. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped what we were doing when I knew you were falling in love with me.”

“I wouldn’t want that.”

“I know,” you said. “But it’s what should have happened. I thought I didn’t know why I did it, but I think I do now. It’s not an excuse. I’m not excusing anything I’ve done, but I want you to understand me. You made me feel something, Hendery. You made it easy to distract myself from my shitty life.”

Hendery leaned in to kiss you. Once you felt him on your lips, you were hungry for more. The long conversation you wanted to have with him was forgotten. You kissed him back and fed yourself. You got up on your knees on the bed with him and held your body against his.

“ I don’t care.” he said. “I just want you. You make me feel it all.”

You could taste your own salty tears in his kiss. Your mind was so barren of any kind of rational thought, so letting Hendery take off your clothes was easy. You did the same for him, touching his body like it held all of life's answers. You clung to his sweaty skin. You stretched yourself across the hotel bed, your body eager to be filled with something, anything.

Neither of you could stop. Hendery remembered everything you liked. He parted your legs and slipped his fingers inside of you. His eyes never left yours, even as you got on top of him, your hair matted to your face and a wild look in your eyes.

“Like old times. “ he said.

You placed your hand over his mouth. He licked your fingers and you smiled. You took him inside of your body, feeling very full. You could still see the love staring back at you, could feel it in the way he trembled as you fucked. You missed him. Each touch brought life back to a memory, like crayons coloring in a page.

Looking up at the ceiling made you feel like you were flying through space. You would have welcomed feeling lost, but Hendery pulled you back down to earth again. He sat up, shifting himself so you were riding him in a sitting position. He touched his nose to yours and held your back as you started moving.

You let yourself go, leaning backwards, feeling Hendery’s strong grip holding you up. His lips were on your collarbone, his tongue leaving trails all on your skin. It wasn’t why you invited him, but you always knew how to make him stay.

You laid on Henderys chest. Your body was exhausted, your brain even more so. Hendery looked content, like he had been waiting to see you again to feel that ecstasy. You were scared of letting him down again, but you wouldn’t think like that. Besides, after he came, he kept repeating that he knew you could never be together. You were grateful for his effort, but hearing him say it made you a little sad.

“I think I’m going to quit.” you said. “I’m not sure I can keep this up much longer.”

Hendery looked down, his chin doubled. You touched your fingers to his face and laughed. Seeing you smile made him smile.

“When?” he asked.

You could hear the hope in his voice. You wished it could rub off on you. You laid back down on his chest, your ear hot against his skin. You didn’t have an answer for him, and even if you did, you weren’t sure it was his to have.

Hendery got up to go to the bathroom, so you checked your phone. There were no messages from Lucas, none from Ten, none from Xiaojun, and definitely none from Kun. You looked through some of the old messages from possible clients and felt a pull towards them. Their happy, hopeful faces called out to you, begging you not to leave them.

You heard Hendery talking to himself in the bathroom and rolled over. You flicked through more clients, coming up on the one from before. His name was WinWin, and he was gorgeous. Too persistent, maybe, but he looked like a sweet man. Before things had gotten too crazy, you were thinking about entertaining the idea of adding on a new client to make things interesting. You clicked on his profile. You opened his messages and thought of something clever to write back.

If you were going to quit your job, you might as well have one last hurrah.

219 notes · View notes

beatlesdumpsterfire · 3 years ago

Note

prompt -> everyone cowers in front of ringo's supreme power

There’s a reason why Ringo never played drum solos. If you thought it was because he simply didn’t like them, then I’m sorry, but you got fooled by a famous Beatles lie. No, Ringo didn’t play drum solos because he had stage fright, or he thought that they were too ostentatious - he refused to play them because he knew it would give him too much power. So much power, in fact, that he could cause the end of the world.

Sounds dramatic, I know, but don’t believe me? Back in the Hamburg days, after being heckled by a rambunctious crowd for over 2 hours straight to play something that could put Buddy Rich to shame, Ringo finally cracked. He ran 64th notes down his drum kit in such a rapid succession that he started to glow bright orange, as if he were on fire. Rory and the rest of the band didn’t know what to do with their glowing orb of a drummer, but they didn’t have much time to fret on it anyways because the walls of the Kaiserkeller started to rattle and crack, which made the German audience, still recovering from WW2, duck for cover with a collective yelp.

“Ringo!” Rory tried to yell over the ear-splitting noise that was coming from Ringo as his orange glow got progressively brighter. Ringo couldn’t hear him because he was in the zone. The Auto Zone. “Quit it!!”

Ringo moved from his 64th notes to smacking away at his cymbals like he was releasing the rage of a thousand years. The middle of the dance floor started to cave in, swallowing those who couldn’t move away fast enough. If you listened closely, you could hear a deep, Liverpudlian laugh coming from the pit. The only reason Ringo didn’t cause the end of the world on this occasion was because, as he was about to start balancing his twirling drumsticks on his nose, his allergies (the thing that humbles us all) got the better of him, causing him to let out a loud sneeze that rocketed him away from his set. With his senses knocked back into him, Ringo gaped at the chaos in front of him and turned to Rory, who was gaping back at him with a look on his face that could only mean Ringo was out of the band.

This is the history of The Beatles that you don’t know about. Ringo was a freelancer for a brief moment in Hamburg before John, Paul, and George found him. There had been a rumor circulating that there was something wrong with Ringo, but when the three lads saw him standing outside of a club one cold evening, lighting a cigarette in his own solitude, they just assumed that everyone else was being mean and hinting at how big his nose was.

And just like that, Pete was out and Ringo was in, because John, Paul, and George had heard that Ringo could really bring the house down. Ringo had tried to warn his new band members on multiple occasions that he suspected there was something wrong with him, but all of them insisted that he was fine and that his nose really wasn’t that big, so he had nothing to worry about. Ringo wasn’t so sure about that but, following the Incident, he had braved the drums once again and managed to keep a steady beat without causing Armageddon. Needless to say, that didn’t mean he was any less nervous about playing. Luckily, he insisted enough times that he would never do a drum solo, and John, Paul, and George listened, though they did think he was a little bit looney.

And things were alright like this for a while, through the ups and downs of their career, playing across the globe to thousands of screaming fans. Ringo never once let his guard down: there were no solos coming from him, no matter how many people wanted it.

That fateful night in Hamburg felt like another life, so much so that Ringo nearly forgot about the unusual power he contained. It wasn’t until he was pushed to the edge that he remembered he held the fate of the world in the palm of his hand, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

The year was 1969, the holiest year of them all, and Ringo was about ready to thrust his head through some drywall, he was so fed up with his bandmates. The incessant bickering over which songs made the cut on the album and which didn’t were really starting to drive him up the wall. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was just the icing on the cake.

“We need another take on that one,” Paul announced to the band with an air of authority that Ringo wished he could strangle. They had just finished playing through their forty-seventh take and, although Paul was acting like it wasn’t his fault, it was absolutely his fault that they had to play the damn song again. For someone who acted like he was the leader of the band, Paul sure was having trouble remembering his baloney lyrics.

Without a word, John let his guitar slip out of his hands so it clunked to the ground in an amplified drop, its buzzing filling the room. John left them like that, stomping to the door and letting himself out, back to sanity. George gazed longingly at the door like he wanted to follow behind John, but he knew too well that Paul wasn’t going to let that happen. Completely unbothered by John, Paul turned to face the engineers in the sound booth and motioned in a grand gesture for them to start a new tape.

George looked across at Ringo and Ringo stared blankly back at him. He was really trying to repress everything he was feeling.

“Take 48,” George Martin nervously announced into their headphones, like he knew he was stoking a fire.

“Ringo, I’m gonna need some more umph on that drum part,” Paul turned back to Ringo with a smug look stretched across his face. “If you can handle it.”

That was it. That was freaking it. That was the line. The line’s way back there. Paul crossed that line. He crossed that line so hard it’s not even funny.

Ringo stood from his kit but, unlike John, he didn’t book it for the door. Instead, he rushed around the room, gathering every single percussion instrument he could find.

“I’ll give you umph,” he growled at Paul. In return, Paul smiled back at him because that was exactly what he wanted. In between them, George grabbed at his head. His two mates were really making him question why they were his mates in the first place.

“Take 48!” Paul called up to George Martin, spinning his finger around to motion that they start the tape. Then, he turned back to Ringo, who was staring at him with so much intensity it was a miracle Paul wasn’t sent flying backwards.

“One, two, one two three...”

Paul started to play the opening chords on his dinky little piano but Ringo wasn’t having any of that, oh no. He pounded into his snare drum so hard one of the drumsticks broke through the skin. Instead of pulling it out, Ringo left it there and grabbed a tambourine, which he proceeded to bang against his hi-hat. Paul wasn’t sure what Ringo was doing, but they had experimented enough in the past that he let it slide. George, on the other hand, was silently whispering prayers to himself as he stared at Ringo's glowing figure in horror. Ringo knew exactly what he was doing; if he did a drum solo, he could wreck their studio enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to Maxwell’s frickin Silver Hammer again. The trouble was, Ringo didn’t know when the right time was to stop.

By the time he started using two maracas as drumsticks on a timpani, Ringo began to slowly levitate. George’s whispered prayers were becoming louder from his panic. Up in the booth, it looked like the two remaining Beatles were performing an exorcism on Ringo.

“What the-” George Martin muttered. The boys must have stumbled across some new kind of street drug that really messed you up.

“Maxwell Anderson, majoring in medicine,” Paul cheerfully sang from his piano, his back turned to Ringo. Ringo started to shake in place, now suspended 5 feet above the ground, clicking castanets angrily while glaring down at Paul. George gaped as Ringo's color switched to a fiery, Kool Aid Man-red. It was bad. Paul continued to unknowingly play, but his left hand took a break to wipe some sweat from his brow. Someone must have turned up the heat, he mused to himself.

But no, it was Ringo, on the brink of causing a thermonuclear explosion. George was initially concerned for Ringo’s safety but, after seeing actual waves of heat emitted from his beige suit, George decided that his pal wasn’t worth it. He’d had some great memories with Ringo, but he could remember those later in therapy. For the meantime, he was getting the hell out of dodge, to wherever John had escaped to.

The problem was, Ringo’s power was sucking George so dry that he hardly had any energy left in him to move. It was like the goddamn relativity cadenza all over again. The more Ringo banged out the drum solo of the millenium, the more powerful he became. No one could stop him, he was a god. Ringo, god of the bongos. The most feared of them all.

Something caused Paul to finally turn around (probably Mal missing his cue to play the anvil because he was too distracted by whatever the hell Ringo was up to) and, when he did, his jaw dropped.

“Wot the fuck Ringo?” he shouted. They hadn’t agreed that Ringo could become a celestial being during their recording session. At that moment, John barged back in through the door, ready to give his half-hearted apology to Paul. That was quickly thrown in the trash when John looked up at their drummer, who now resembled a ball of fire, like the sun or something. (Even though it seems appropriate, no, unfortunately George didn’t write Here Comes the Sun about this event - that song had already been recorded at this point). John, as terrified as he was, couldn’t help but let out a loud cackle at the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. He knew that their session for Maxwell’s Silver Hammer had been bad, but he didn’t realize it was this bad, so much so that their drummer was spontaneously combusting.

“Silence, mortal!” Ringo boomed down at John, not even missing a beat on his woodblock solo.

That got John to shut up pretty fast.

“No one dares laugh at the almighty and powerful Ringo!” Ringo continued, his words practically searing through everyone’s skulls. “I can end you with the crash of a cymbal, I can tear this planet apart, piece by piece with only the sheer power of my mind!”

“Good for you, Ringo,” Paul stammered out as he tried to hide behind his piano. Paul was smart to pick up on the fact that, out of all of them, Ringo probably had the biggest score to settle with him. He really sincerely hoped that his charm would be enough to keep Ringo from smiting him but, just to be extra safe, he threw one of his famous winks Ringo’s way. Ringo, in turn, glared at Paul and pulled out a triangle.

“With a single ding on this triangle,” Ringo bellowed out, so loudly that everyone in England could hear him, “our planet will cease to exist.” He floated closer to Paul and Paul in return tried to back up, though he quickly found himself pushed against the wall. “Is that enough umph for you, Paul?” Ringo sneered back at him. Paul tried to respond that Ringo really didn’t have to do that and, actually take 14 had come out pretty good, but he found all of his words trapped in his throat. Ringo’s power was too overwhelming. Ringo seemed satisfied that he had terrified Paul so much that he finally shut his yap and, to really gloat in his glory, his hand slowly crept towards the triangle.

The closer Ringo got to hitting that triangle, the bigger he got. The image was straight out of Alice in Wonderland - in a matter of seconds, Ringo had grown too big to fit in their studio. That didn’t matter much, as the heat coming off of him helped sear away the wooden ceiling so it came crashing around him.

He’s really getting a big head, John mused to himself, though he didn’t dare make his observation out loud, which was a good decision because he would have been a goner otherwise. At this point, Ringo’s feet stretched the entire length of the studio (or, what remained of it) and his head was well above the skyline of London, where everyone could see him and scream with horror before going, “Wait, is that Ringo Starr from the Beatles?”

Ringo was only inches away from the triangle now and London had never been hotter. The ocean was starting to dry up on the coast, fields were bursting in flames at random, and children started asking their parents why they didn’t have more fans in their houses. Alongside the heat, the ground started to quiver before shaking, rattling, and rolling. Cars rocked in the street, smashing into each other, and trees and buildings started to tilt sideways, like wannabe Leaning Towers of Pisa. People were starting to panic, because nothing this exciting had ever happened in England before.

“Ringo!” George tried to call up to his mate, though he knew it was no use, considering how high up Ringo was. “Please, stop it!” John and Paul heard George’s desperate pleas over the commotion and joined in, falling to their knees and clasping their hands together, begging with all the energy they had left.

“We’ll let you have more songs on our album!” John tried.

“I’ll bring you more flowers,” George tried.

“We’ll stop recording Maxwell’s Silver Hammer for once and for all!” Paul tried without really thinking.

Ringo was a millimeter away from making contact with the triangle. But then, he stopped. And, faster than you could say “Maxwell Anderson,” the shaking and heat stopped. Ringo had almost instantly shrunk himself back down to his normal size and was no longer glowing a searing red. He calmly set the triangle down on the stool next to his kit and turned around to look at Paul, John, and George.

“Good,” was all he had to say. And, with that, he turned on his heel and strutted out of the practically demolished studio, whistling a happy tune to himself. Left behind, Paul, John, and George all tried to compose themselves.

“A new rule for the band,” Paul started slowly, “let’s not mess with Ringo.”

“Agreed,” John was quick to respond.

“Agreed,” George repeated.

#beatles ask #beatles fanfiction #ringo starr #george harrison #paul mccartney #john lennon #idk why I made paul a jerk here #sorry paul fans #ringo is a metaphysical being

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celestialinent · 4 years ago

Text

someday it will fit just right

on ao3

In 2 years, Steve would spend his first night truly hungry. In 5 years, he would stand in a cold little cemetery and bury his mother. In 8 years, he would deliver food to the silent Barnes family as they sat shiva. In 11 years, he would go into a tiny metal box and come out a freak. In 14 years, he would die.

But on April 17th, 1931, Steve Rogers woke up to Sarah Rogers singing in her clear voice, thrilled to celebrate her only son’s 13th birthday.

He and Fiona stumbled out from behind the thick curtain that cut the little nook at the far side of the flat where he slept. There were boxty and eggs on the table, and Ma wasn’t even tired, because she had three days off all in a row. He was still young enough not to question the luck. He wasn’t aware that Sarah had begged and traded with the other nurses to get the days, promising to work shifts no one wanted, knowing it would hurt their purse at the end of the month and doing it anyway to make her boy happy.

“Stiofán,” she greeted him, and Steve smiled. She only called him by his Irish name when she was in the best moods, and as he got older and the trouble he got up to got more bloody, that name was used less and less.

Fiona always slept as a cougar, because her furry bulk was the best thing to keep him warm in their drafty flat, but she usually changed before they even got out of bed. Big cats might be good for keeping little boys with dicky lungs, but they weren’t so good for navigating the tight space of the Rogers’s home. She didn’t change this morning, however.

Steve sent her a frown, even as he sidestepped her to get to the table.

Aodhan, perched on a rickety wooden chair to Sarah’s left, watched the pair with his intelligent brown eyes.

“How’s my wee man?” Sarah asked when Steve had sat. Fiona came to rest next to him, her big head almost as high as his. “Any big plans for today?”

Steve blushed. “Bucky and I were gonna go to the park,” he answered. But they’d planned that ages ago, before Ma had gotten the days off. And they were really only going because Bucky had heard from Teddy Russo that Theresa and Dot Bianchi would be there with their older sister Valentina. Bucky was absolutely dizzy for just about every girl in the Bianchi family.

To be honest, Bucky was dizzy for all the girls. He was 14 this year, and apparently, his Uncle Isaac had told Bucky that that was the age that “everything started to make sense” with girls. Whatever in the Sam-Hell that meant.

“We don’t have to, though,” Steve said. And he meant it. Spending a few hours watching Bucky watching dames didn’t sound like any fun, and it was his birthday, so if he told Bucky he wanted to do something else he wouldn’t be sore at him. “Bucky could just bring the girls over and we could play games or something.”

Even if Steve didn’t think spending his 13th birthday with Bucky’s little sisters was the best way to celebrate he wouldn’t want to exclude them. Bucky hated dragging Becca and Judy and Rachel along when they went places, but Steve thought the girls were just swell. He’d never had a sister or a brother, and never would most likely, so the novelty was nice.

Steve’s Ma just smiled. “No, no. You and Bucky should go. Bein’ thirteen is important, a leanbh . Before we know it you’ll be old and won’t get to spend all your time with Bucky Barnes.”

Steve wrinkled his nose. “Bucky and me’ll always spend time together, Ma,” he promised. “We’re friends forever.”

What was meant to be a reassurance, however, seemed to kill his Ma’s grin. She sent him a soft, sad look before tucking into breakfast. “I hope so, Stiofán. But don’t think you won’t get old.”

“I’m only thirteen, Ma!” Steve protested. Fiona leaned her head against his side sympathetically, and the weight of her sent him listing to the side for a moment.

“Fi, stoppit!” he giggled. “Why’re you so big?”

Fiona, looking contrite, seemed to shiver in her skin like she always did when she was trying to change shape. But instead of bursting into the air as a pigeon, or scurrying up his arm as a squirrel, she remained solidly feline and solidly big. Steve frowned, tipping his head forward to peer at her.

Aodhan and Ma both laughed. Steve turned a sharp, worried look to his mother.

“What?” he asked. Turning back, he said, “Fi, what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, a leanbh ,” Ma breathed. “What did I say?”

Fiona giggled. “I can’t! Stevie!”

It took Steve a bit too long to understand the situation, but when he did he turned an incredulous stare on Fiona. “You settled so big ,” he laughed.

“Bit inconvenient,” Aodhan muttered behind his shaggy russet mustache, but he was grinning his doggy grin, as overjoyed as Sarah was.

“The size of a daemon doesn’t depend on the size of the person,” Ma reminded him. Steve knew that. He knew that Mr. Tonks, hulking as he was, had a little rabbit daemon, and everyone in the world knew that Marlene Dietrich’s daemon was a honking big bear, something the newspapers always thought was real funny.

“Boys at school are gonna have a field day,” Steve told her anyway. Nobody but Bucky seemed to understand why Steve walked around with a mountain lion for a daemon most of the time. Now that she’d settled, he could just imagine how they’d tease.

“The boys at school are silly little idiots,” Aodhan grumbled.

That sent Fiona and Steve into a fit of giggles that carried them through breakfast.

***

He’d been right about the boys at school.

When words got around that Steve’s daemon had settled, Tommy Wies came over to him at lunch as asked him if he thought it was funny that his daemon was four times the size of him.

Miriam, lounging at Bucky’s feet as a german shepherd, snarled at him, and Tommy laughed it off but he didn’t say another word to Steve all day. Unfortunately, Bucky couldn’t be around forever, and after last period, when Steve was gathering his papers from arithmetic, Bobby and Tony Gottardo ambled over.

The three of them exchanged some words, and it all ended with Bucky finding Steve getting his lights knocked out of him in front of the school. Fiona was snapping and yowling at the Gottardo’s daemons, and Bucky had to wade in and break the fight up with a solid-looking kick to Tony’s keister.

“God, some of these eye-talians really are dumb,” Bucky huffed after the boys had beat feet down the sidewalk. “How many times I gotta lay them out flat before they leave well enough alone?”

Steve sent Bucky a dark look. “You didn’t lay anyone out, Buck. Tony and Bobby are just babies.”

Bucky scoffed. “Maybe not that time, but last time, I made Bobby bleed so bad I just about called a doctor so’s I didn’t have to go on the lam.”

Fiona snorted. “You did no such thing,” she told him imperiously.

Miriam perked up. “If you asked Bobby, he just about got murdered in that fight.”

The four of them ambled their way back home, About halfway to Bucky’s flat, where they were stashing their school stuff and cleaning up before heading over to the park-Steve couldn’t very well go home now, not with a bloody nose-Miriam turned to Steve and Fiona and eyed them.

“What’s it like?” she asked.

It was crystal what she was asking. Miriam, even though Bucky was a year older, still hadn’t settled.

Fiona shrugged her big furry shoulders. “Boring, but nice. Feels right, like a pair of shoes that I’ve had few ages, so they fit real good. But I think I’ll miss flying.”

“Shoulda settled as a big bird,” Bucky laughed. “A bald eagle, or something. Or a hawk, to go with that big nose.”

Steve shoved at Bucky playfully. “Well, then Miriam should settle as a pig, to go with your nose.”

Bucky, vainer than Steve by a mile, reeled back, patting at his nose like he was checking that it was still as perfect as ever. He scowled when that sent Steve laughing.

“Fi shoulda been an elephant, to match your ears!”

“Miriam could settle as a beaver so you could have matching buck teeth,” Steve shot back, still laughing.

Bucky huffed, but Steve knew he wasn’t that sore.

They spent the rest of the walk joking and fooling around, and when they barrelled into the Barnes flat, Bucky had Steve under his arm, mussing up his hair with his knuckles.

Mrs. Barnes started fussing as soon as she saw Steve’s face, but luckily she didn’t threaten to tell his Ma, trusting that Steve wouldn’t hide it from her. She did make him sit at the dining room table, though, and allow her to clean him up a little. She didn’t have his Ma’s practice at nursing, but she’d raised Bucky, and the frequency with which her son was being pulled into scraps meant she was no slouch. Amos chittered the entire time, scolding them all for fighting just like he always did. The boys and their daemons ignored him, as they always did.

“The only thing I have to give you for your birthday is some advice, Steven,” Mrs. Barnes said lightly. “Stay out of trouble!”

Steve offered her a beatific smile, the smile he offered to teachers and shopkeepers and Mrs. Barnes whenever he was trying to pretend he wasn’t an absolute scoundrel. It drove Bucky up the walls; he called it his saintly smirk. “I try, Mrs. Barnes. Trouble just always seems to find me!”

Mrs. Barnes and Amos hmmphed in unison, and Bucky snorted.

“Bucky, I expect you back home in time for supper. It might be Steven’s birthday, but you still have school tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma,” Bucky and Steve chorused. She scowled and shooed them out of the house.

Steve shook his head. “She didn’t even notice Fiona’s settled,” he scoffed. “Guess Steve Rogers walking around with a puma for a daemon is just common sense to her.”

“Sure it is, pal,” Bucky drawled easily. “You may be short, but you’re just about the loudest guy I know. You’re bigger inside than out, is all. You ain’t no mouse.”

“What do you think you’ll settle as?” Fiona asked Miriam, who’d taken Fiona’s new size as an opportunity to be lazy, and shifted into a strange little lizard, riding on her back. She had the air of a haughty little queen that way, and Steve couldn’t help but smile at the smug little lizard smile she was sporting.

Miriam was quiet for a moment as she and Bucky shared a thoughtful look.

“A dog, probably,” Bucky answered first. “Most folks have dog daemons.”

Fiona shook her head. “You’re not most.”

Steve blushed a little at that. Bucky wasn’t most folks. Bucky was brave and handsome and kind and strong. Bucky talked a big game about how Steve was bigger on the inside, but honestly, Steve thought Bucky’s beautiful outside matched his insides. It was no wonder that all the girls at school had started taking real long looks at Steve’s best friend. There was something about the air around Bucky when he got real excited about a new song. When he laughed it was like his whole face opened up and you could see the damn sun shining out his eyes.

Miriam would settle as something even grander than a mountain lion. She’d be a real noble bird, maybe, because of Bucky’s sharp eyes, or a peacock cause of how nice his face was. Or maybe a wolf, like James Connolly had had.

“A horse, maybe,” Miriam said.

It was funny, because Steve couldn’t see that at all. Miriam had never been a horse in her life. Hell, none of them had ever seen a horse in their lives. But Steve was picturing Bucky astride a huge destrier, dressed like a knight, and it made him laugh so hard he almost gave himself an asthma attack. “You are a real horse’s ass,” he gasped.

“Maybe I’ll be something real strange,” Bucky said, and he was still smiling, but it looked pained. “Something odd, that’ll scare off anyone tryin’ to give us a hard time.”

Miriam shivered, shifting rapidly. She was a spider first, fearsome and black, before she draped over Fiona’s back as a big brown snake. It was followed by a strange hairless cat, a blind and eerie bat. Finally, Miriam clambered to Fiona’s rump, a brown little thing with huge, luminous golden eyes. Her small triangle ears sat at the sides of her head like horns, and a long tail that curled over her chest.

Steve blinked. “What are you?” he asked. Miriam only stared up at him.

“So one in a book of daemons once. Like a monkey, sorta. Strange, right?” Bucky murmured.

“She’s beautiful, Buck,” Steve assured him. “Very beautiful.”

Bucky shrugged and picked up his pace like he was eager to see the Bianchi sisters. Like the discussion was unimportant.

Steve felt distinctly that he’d missed something in the exchange, and Bucky was disappointed in him.

#steve rogers #stucky #steve/bucky #daemons #daemon au #my fic

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buckyreaderrecs · 5 years ago

Text

It’s Been A Long Long Time

Summary: Bucky and Steve went to war. When they came back, you were gone. But, you know, maybe you're a lot like them, and will show up years later all not-dead and on-ice.

Words: 3,405 Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter, Sam Wilson, F.R.I.D.A.Y., T'Challa, Tony Stark, Shuri Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame never happened), Stark Tower is still a thing, technically a song fic, angst, sad Bucky, Nat and Howard are mentioned but not in scenes, how shit are Hydra though, happy ending, she/her pronouns Warnings: references to canon-typical violence but no violent scenes, discussion of Hydra/Nazis

Note: This is written for @maarrvveell's challenge. My prompt was the song It's Been A Long Long Time (Harry James and Kitty Kallen version, 1945), but I also used the song I Concentrate On You (1940) in a couple scenes. Roz, I hope ya love it!

Tag list (open): @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty @aynaraxas (not sure if you want to be tagged in new fics @animegirlgeeky?) (the tumblr formally known as @darlingtholland - where did you go? what’s your URL now?!)

EDIT: Accidentally had all the Y/N replaced with my name because of the Chrome extension. Hopefully fixed, but if you see Rhiannon pop up, please let me know so I can edit. Embarrassing lol.

It’s Been A Long Long Time

1942

The man has a German accent and that reassures you. Steve had said Erskine was European, but was it German? You can't remember, but either way, the man holding the clipboard has a strange kindness to his face. He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly, small and pink.

"I just want to do my part," you tell him, answering why you had responded to the flyer posted around Brooklyn. "It's war, ya know? Everyone is doing something…"

Despite what he had done, you knew Steve would have never let you volunteer for this. However, Steve isn't here to stop you. He had let you cry on his shoulder for days following Bucky's departure. He had said you would at least have him. And then, he left too. So, fuck Steve Rogers.

Fuck Bucky Barnes and his parting kiss to the lips and promises of love letters in the mail.

Fuck Hitler and his psychopathy and war starting bullshit.

You were going to help, even if it meant like this. The boys could yell at you when it was all over.

…

2019, December

Bucky watches the flames lick up and around the journal. He times how long it takes to burn down to ash. Opening the fresh book in his lap, he begins by recording that time. Each journal begins like this. Bucky doesn't know why he does it. Although, his general preoccupation with the concept of time is a little easier to explain. Bucky Barnes is one of the few people on Earth that has a very personal and turbulent relationship with time. It does not pass for him like it does everyone else. It doesn't age him like everyone else. He isn't even sure it properly exists like everyone else does. It is only natural therefore, that Bucky thinks about time a lot. It is easy to get lost in the past.

Don't get him wrong though - Bucky does not want to return to anything behind him. He doesn't miss it. Not Hydra. Not Nazis. Not the Great Depression. There's only one thing that keeps pulling him in reverse.

You.

He dreams of you most nights. Sometimes they are heavenly trips into the best days he'd had with you. Sometimes they are hollow nightmares with teeth falling out and black blood. Sleep feels empty if you are not there. Sleep has been empty since the news had been delivered years and years ago.

After being rescued and then recruited into The Howling Commandoes, Bucky could see that Steve wasn't telling him everything. And there was so much to tell. "What is it, Stevie?" he asked, turning his empty shot glass upside down on the bar and looking at Steve. (Bucky kept accidentally looking down at Steve, forgetting his eyes were waaayyy up there.)

"It's… It's Y/N, Buck…"

Bucky felt his blood run cold. He thought the worst had happened. Steve had changed. He'd been tortured. The worst… You were meant to be safe at home. But you were too much like Steve.

When he was sure he was alone, Bucky cried and cried and cried until there was only an emptiness left in him. It made him a better soldier, he told himself.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice pulls Bucky from the memory of you. Something has been going on in the tower; people have been buzzing around all day, all hush hush. They avoid eye contact with him, but that's pretty standard. To get away from it all, he climbed to his secret little spot on the roof. Just enough room for a metal bin to burn things in, and an old office chair with a broken wheel that he found discarded in a hallway.

Bucky's surprised to learn that F.R.I.D.A.Y. could even find him here. He pulls his headphones from his ears, pausing Harry James and Kitty Kallen and sighing.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you, Sergeant Barnes, but this does qualify as an emergency," F.R.I.D.A.Y. says. Where the hell is her voice even coming from?

"Tell 'em I'm on my way," Bucky replies.

Bucky navigates his way to a room in which everyone knows what is happening. All eyes are on him as he enters the room. Without needing to overtly look around, Bucky clocks most of the Avengers as being present, as well as some other agents. He takes a seat in the chair clearly meant for him; Sam and Steve flank his sides. As he sits, most of the room empties. It's disconcerting at best.

For only a second, Bucky considers playing along. He's tired though. He needs to be alone.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice the saddest Steve has heard in a while.

"Ah, as you know.. Last week we sent scouts to recon the potential Hydra base… the one under Baltimore," Steve begins.

As soon as the word Hydra hits the air Bucky knows it means they found something. And something is never good. Possible items include files documenting the graphic nature of The Winter Soldier's breaking in, training, and treatment; evidence of the crimes committed by The Winter Soldier; or worse, video footage of any of the above.

"It definitely was Hydra. It was part of their science division. From the looks of what's there, they left in a hurry. Most of it is caved in. Not sure how that happened yet… There were no S.H.I.E.L.D. records of the place,"

"Get to the point, Steve," Bucky says, impatient. Hydra cells are everywhere; the ghosts of them pop up semi-regularly. Empty buildings with blood on the walls and stories to tell.

"They were studying Erskine… or, or the serum. Trying to replicate it…"

"We know that already,"

"Yeah. But… This place, they were close enough to… us, to New York, Brooklyn, to use the 'Captain America' story," Steve is starting to struggle. He uses air quotes for Captain America, disenfranchised. Whatever they found, Bucky thinks, it's bad. "They used it to… lure people… It's, it's where they experimented on people, Buck. But, ah, it's… It's where they worked out how to freeze people and keep them alive… They were preparing for-"

"Me… Working out how to freeze me?"

"Not you, exactly. There's no files on you. Just the Wint-" Steve tries but fails.

"It's the same thing, Steve. So… what? There were some files and some skeletons? What's-"

"They're still there," Steve interrupts, answering the question before Bucky can ask. "Three people still in cryo. Alive."

…

1944

"The resources have… been exhausted. We've searched everywhere, Sergeant. I'm afraid-"

"I got it. She's dead. Ain't coming back," Bucky interrupts Peggy before she can deliver what would be Bucky's final blow.

"Buck-"

"Don't. Don't say anything, Steve."

Steve thinks if he'd just stayed home, you'd probably be home too. He wonders if Bucky is thinking the same thing. "Everyone said you were gone and I found you," he offers, tries for logic.

"I wasn't missing for years. I didn't disappear into thin fuckin' air. You knew where I was… We have no idea where Y/N is. No idea when… when she… left or… was taken or-Christ! We don't know shit, Steve. 'Cept that she's gone."

Steve knows Bucky well enough to usher Peggy from the tent, leave his heartbroken best friend to scream into a pillow until he's taken by restless sleep in the gloaming. Until then, Bucky goes over it all again and again. He doesn't blame Peggy; she's spent so much time stealing manpower and resources from Stark and the government and whoever in an attempt to find you. He doesn't blame Steve; there's just no guarantee that if he had stayed in Brooklyn he would have been able to protect you.

Protect you.

Protect you from what?

There are a million and one scenarios in Bucky's head. Murderers. Nazis. Nightmares. All of them, nightmares. What happened to you? Where did you go?

…

2019, December

Bucky shakes his head. Something in him is putting the pieces together, informing his central nervous system to prepare for fight or flight. That something is deep down though, ignored. He crosses his arms over his chest and holds his breath.

"There are other cryo chambers… but they were damaged in the cave in, we figure. They're still trying to work out how they've been powered this long. There's all sorts of tech we've never seen. Tony's having a field day." Steve doesn't know he's rambling, getting side tracked.

"Wait. Stop. Go back. What do you mean lure people? What people?" Bucky asks, the questioning coming from that deep down something. He's trying to keep it buried, but it's bubbling, boiling.

Steve's eyes flick over to Sam, behind Bucky. It annoys Bucky, and the sharp intake of breath through his nose lets Steve know it.

Sam says, "Hydra, Buck. They told people they were like Stark… the first one, and Agent Carter… also the first one." Bucky swings his chair around. "They told people they were the good guys tryin' to make more Captain Americas… Regular people signed up."

Boiling. Bubbling.

Bucky can feel it rising. It's in his spine, climbing up the vertebra. It reaches the back of his neck, and goes cold. Prickly. Boiling. Hot. Now it's in his head and he can't get it out. He knows. The thought is right there, smack bang in the middle of his brain. He knows where you are.

He is up, the chair knocked over, before Sam and Steve can even begin to reach for him. Sam stays seated, knowing what usually spooks triggered soldiers. Steve stands, but stops when Bucky does. And, Bucky does stop himself from running, even though he wants to just fucking bolt. Instead, he's in the corner of the room, back to wall and head pounding. Steve is a couple steps away.

"We're transporting them now, to Wakanda. Shuri and Stark are our best bet at pulling them out alive," Steve says, hoping information will help. "We know who… who one of the men is. Nat is good at finding people…" When Bucky says nothing, does nothing, Steve continues. "And, ah, the other man is a John Doe… still seeing if…" There's no point. Steve gives up, drops to crouch in front of Bucky.

"It's her, Buck. It's Y/N… Don't know what the odds of that are…" he whispers.

"When you said she was too much like Steve, didn't think you meant turns up decades later frozen," Sam risks. Both Bucky and Steve look up at him. He shrugs. "I know this is a lot, man," he says to Bucky. "But this is good. At the very least, it's closure. You know where she is,"

"I know where she is," Bucky repeats, his voice so low is barely audible. He looks at Steve, blue eyes glossed over and so, so hurt. "I know where she is, Steve."

…

1940

"It's not going to stop, Buck," you say, the dread in your stomach sticky.

"Darlin'…"

"No! Don't 'darling' me. It's not going to stop and it's going to come here and they're going to send you to war."

The end of your sentence coincides with the end of the song. The record is silent, save for the crackling intermission. Music is always playing in the small apartment you share with Bucky and Steve. It keeps you all sane.

For only a second, you see the same dread you feel flash across Bucky's beautiful face. It's gone so fast though. He holds a hand out to you, and you feel compelled to take it. The next song begins.

"Y/N, I promise ya, everything is gonna be fine… And… And if war comes, and they make me go, I will come back. Can't get rid of me that easy,"

"You can't promise that,"

"I can do what I want. I'm a free man. Got a beautiful girl. Got my health. Got music," Bucky says, and he's not sure if he's trying to convince only you.

Bucky leads the slow dance, half singing along. The song is new, but it resonates. Whenever skies look grey to me, and trouble begins to brew… Whenever the winter winds become too strong, I concentrate on you.

"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,"

"I fuckin' love you too."

When fortune cries 'Nay! Nay!' to me, and people declare 'You're through!' Whenever the blues become my only song… I concentrate on you.

…

2020, January

Steve and Sam stand on a balcony and watch as Bucky crosses a field. He disappears into trees, his arrival prompting birds to squawk and fly away, disturbed at the loud intrusion.

"He used to go into those woods, when we hosted him," T'Challa says, appearing behind them. "It's where the White Wolf was born. The children heard a howling, but only a man would emerge."

The men return to the lab, debrief with Shuri and Tony.

"His cells weren't stable," Shuri says.

"He basically turned to soup," Tony adds.

"Who do we tell?" Sam asks. The room look to him, confused. "Don't we have to tell someone…? That we found a man… and turned him to-"

"Soup," Tony finishes. "Nobody cares what we do," he says too casually.

"Bucky cares," Steve corrects, harshly but not unnecessarily so. "This isn't a game, Tony. We don't know who he was, but we know the others. We know Y/N. We have to try harder."

…

2020, March

"He looks…" but Steve isn't sure how to describe the man sitting on the bed in the room in front of him.

On Steve's left is Sam, then Bucky. They both have their arms folded across their chests, stances identical. On Steve's right is Shuri, then Tony. All five of them are watching the man through a two-way mirror; he's not moved in an hour. He's barely moved all day.

"Like a zombie?" Sam suggests.

"At least he's not soup," Tony offers cheerfully.

"Go do your sad boy whispering," Shuri calls over to Sam, who shoots her a look.

"I'm not a damn therapist. You're the white boy fixer," he quips. They share a grin.

"There's nothing wrong though? He's brain is fried or anything?" Bucky asks, his tone serious and his gaze not moving from the man. The very alive man that represents more hope than he's ever had about anything. He's fucking terrified.

"Nothing wrong with his brain," Tony confirms. "Just needs to talk it out. Get some help." And with that, he walks from the room. Shuri follows, glancing at Bucky, hoping he's alright.

Team Cap stays quiet for a little longer, then Sam sighs and shakes out his arms and legs. "Alright. Well… That's it then. We can wake her up,"

"Not yet," Bucky says quickly.

Sam looks at Steve, who gives Bucky a sympathetic look.

"I'm not bringing her back if something's gonna happen… Not bringing her back yet."

Nobody argues.

Everybody will wait as long as Bucky needs.

…

2020, May

Never thought you would be standing here so close to me.

Noise cancelling headphones are one of Bucky's many favourite things about the future, about now. He can drown out the rest of the world. Of course, he'd never be as bold as to say digital was better than a crackling record, but fuuuuck, this sound is crystal clear.

There's so much I feel I should say, but words can wait until some other day.

Bucky holds vigil next to the cryo chamber you're still dead to the world in. He sits, headphones on, almost as still as you. He studies your face, proud that he hasn’t forgotten a single detail of you.

A tap on the shoulder startles him, he's up and in a defensive position in a split second. Steve doesn't know where Buck pulled the knife from, but he's not surprised to see it. Bucky relaxes, pushes his headphones off to sit around his neck.

"Will's been home a while, Buck. Regular check-ups. He's fine…"

Bucky doesn't reply, just sits back down and returns to watching you. Steve pulls up a chair next to him. He thinks that you look peaceful. He hopes, hopes to fucking God, that you were treated well.

When William came to and found his mind again, he was almost more shocked to hear the people that put him in the chamber were the bad guys than he was to hear it was 2020. "They were nothin' but gentlemen," he said, a thick Brooklyn accent straight from Steve and Bucky's past. He didn't recognise your picture though. "Ain't seen a single dame. Must've separated the ladies," he said with a shrug, then went back to fawning over Captain America.

Bucky didn't recognise the version of Hydra that William knew.

"Shuri says-"

"I know," Bucky interrupts. "She told me. More dangerous keepin' her like this… Just… one more day, okay?" Bucky puts his headphones back on before he gets an answer.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice. Then kiss me again.

…

2020, May, three days later

Your hand is warm in Bucky's. He rubs his thumb over your wrist, feeling your pulse. He knows where you are, and you are here.

Slowly, you wake. The first sign is your eyes opening, focusing on the bright room. Confusion is written all over your face. Then, as you move your head to the side, you see him. The confusion switches to recognition, but back to confusion just as quickly.

Bucky. It's Bucky. But he's... different. His hair is long, pulled into a bun on his head. Imagine what everyone will be saying about that! He's bigger too, more stocky. His clothes are strange and the look on his face is something you've not ever seen... It's not a look you've known on him or anybody else.

"Bucky?" you say, but your voice is dry and croaky. "What... What are you doing here?"

He sucks his lip in and you watch his eyes begin to water.

….

2021

"It's all so… loud…" you say, frowning in a way that shouldn't be cute to Bucky, but it definitely is.

"I know. But trust me on this one," Bucky promises, searching through his Spotify app.

"Does it have our song?"

When Bucky looks up at you, expression blank, you think he doesn't remember. Then, he speaks. "I… I haven't… haven't looked." He remembers. He remembers dancing with you in the kitchen, singing about grey skies and brewing trouble. Bucky hadn't let himself think about it. It was too heavy with foreshadowing and it was a moment too perfect to have let himself think of as real. "But… this one is from '45, so… end of the war. And… ah, it's… You'll like it… Found it!"

You take the headphones being offered and carefully sit them on your head, still convinced you look ridiculous. How can everyone walk around with these giant things on their head? Then, the song starts. And, of course, Bucky's right; it isn't too loud or too fast. It's born of the same time as you.

It's been a long, long time. Haven't felt like this, my dear, since I can't remember when.

Bucky watches you listening. You watch him back.

You'll never know how many dreams I've dreamed about you. Or just how empty they all seemed without you.

"Is this our song now?" you ask him.

"I listen to it a lot,"

"It's sad," you reply.

Bucky shrugs. "Nah, darling. It's a happy ending. Come 'ere." He pulls you into a hug, smothering you between his arms and hair and everything. He's a mess. He's been a mess for a while, apparently.

Worming your way back into fresh air, you look up at him. He's smiling, and it makes you smile.

"I love you," you tell him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his nose.

So kiss me once. Then kiss me twice.

"I love you too."

He presses his forehead to yours and leans in, rubbing his nose along yours. It's painful, you know. While you were sleeping, Bucky had lived too many lives. You'd been missing him for a few months, he's been missing you for what felt like forever.

Bucky repeats himself. "I love you, so, so much."

His kisses taste the same.

Then kiss me once again. It's been a long, long time.

#Bucky Barnes #mine #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes/You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Y/N #Bucky Barnes/Reader #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Marvel fanfic #Marvel #roz'schallenge

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avieelliot · 3 years ago

Photo

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: aveline rosemary fox-harker (changed her surname to elliot once she got to america)

Nickname: avie

Race: white

Ethnicity: french, german

Nationality: english (UK)

Age: 34

APPEARANCE & MANNERISMS

Hair: straight, chestnut brown, reaches her shoulders

Eyes: blue-grey on the outside, hazel around the irises (central heterochromia)

Skin: fair and smooth

Height: 5'2" (157cm)

Build: slender, soft

Scent: jasmine

Gait: leisurely pace, often stops to literally smell roses, or just stare at a pretty view

Clothing/Style: flowy lines, muted colours, soft fabrics (silk, cashmere)

Style of Speech: soft, light voice, but commanding. like you know you’re supposed to stop and listen.

Key Possessions: she has very little attachment to material things. her dogs are her life.

CITIZENSHIP

Social Status: well liked, but little known

Occupation: veterinarian / sanctuary owner

Education: Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree

Residence: a quaint little apartment in a century home

PERSONALITY

Likes: animals, nature, good food, good wine, good conversation, walks in the woods, quiet meditation, stargazing

Dislikes: instability, dishonesty, greed, money, power, being told what to do

Hobbies: working at the animal sanctuary, volunteering at shelters, reading

Personality Summary: kind, altruistic, nurturing, guarded, stubborn, afraid

RELATIONSHIPS

Friends/Allies: TBD

Enemies/Rivals: Alessandro Di Natale, her ex-husband, most men.

Family: estranged from her disinterested parents and her long-lost brother

Romantic Interest: TBD

Pets: three rescue dogs, named Flora (a golden), Fauna (a husky mix), and Merryweather (english bulldog)

BIOGRAPHY

tw: child neglect

Nothing in Aveline’s life has ever been particularly stable, but the one comforting constant in her childhood was everyone always insisting that everything was completely fine. Her parents, devastated to be born a decade or two late to the hippie movement, dove headfirst into 80’s political activism - violence in the name of peace, or something along those lines. He went by Barkley Fox, she went by Buttercup Harker. They met during a riot, and they never slowed down.

Aveline herself was… a surprise, to say the least. Her parents were young and wild and free, but not quite smart enough to realize a child would change that. Or rather, that a child should change that. It didn’t change much for Buttercup and Barkley, who brought tiny Aveline to riots with them, smiling for the photojournalists, and reassuring nosy child welfare workers that everything was, as always, completely fine.

Sure, sometimes they forgot to pick her up from school until the sun had set, and they went on “vacations” to war zones, and she saw much more than any ten year old child should see the time they couldn’t find a babysitter and brought her to the Filthy Lucre tour. And yeah, maybe sometimes they went out and didn’t feed her, or they tried to cure infections with leaves and tree bark, or she missed a couple months of school here and there… but everything was fine, they had it all under control. She was a free spirited child, like them.

Needless to say, everything was not completely fine. Aveline wasn’t fine. She was lonely, and scared, and small. She was forgotten about by the people who were supposed to love her most. The only reason she ever learned what real love was, is because her grandmother (with whom her parents would often drop her for undisclosed amounts of time) had an animal sanctuary.

The animals were hurt. Wounded birds, orphaned squirrels, that kind of thing. They were small, and scared, and lonely. Forgotten about by most of the world. Aveline’s previously unused heart filled up with the love of these tiny helpless creatures, and she found her calling.

When she was eleven, another tiny helpless creature was dropped in Aveline’s lap. His name was Elliot Fox-Harker - her new baby brother. Their parents didn’t know what to do with him any more than they’d known what to do with her. But she was old enough to babysit now, they decided. So they left their oldest child alone to parent their infant. Avie was overwhelmed, and even more scared than before. Somehow, she kept Elliot alive - with the help of their brilliant grandmother. But she was a baby herself, and their grandmother was blind, and it took three years before anyone noticed that Elliot couldn’t hear them. He was deaf.

Aveline was fifteen then. She knew what she had to do. She called the NSPCC Helpline and reported her own parents for child endangerment. The people who came to rescue her brother ripped him, screaming, from her arms, and though she knew she’d done the right thing, to this day, she can’t escape the guilt of that. Elliot was the only person in the world who loved her and needed her, and she let him down. She loved him as much as she resented their parents, so when she moved to America, she changed her last name for him.

She was sent to live with family in Brooklyn, and really struggled to finish high school there. The distraction of her guilt and sadness mixed with the combined years of school she’d missed in her tumultuous childhood meant she was constantly behind... but she put all of her time and energy into studying. The other students in New York were interested in her - they saw her as a mystery of a person with a pretty face and a cute accent, and were fascinated - but she couldn’t relate to any of them. They wanted her to go to parties and pep rallies, but the only person she found herself relating to at all was the weird quiet kid with his walkman on.

After graduation, she went back to England and studied veterinary medicine in London, almost reaching the top of her class. Almost. Top 5%, anyway. But it was an incredible achievement for someone who statistically shouldn’t have survived childhood. She was on top of the world when she graduated... until she realized that she had no idea where to go from there. She was entirely alone in, and besides wanting to be a vet and not wanting to think about her family, she’d never had any real plans. Her mind reeled with images of herself turning into her parents - lost and forever wandering - and she panicked… until she met The One.

He was American - the CEO of his own company, a self-made man. He was gorgeous and charming and driven and best of all: he was stable. She figured the best decision she could make in her life would be to find someone who craved the same stability and authenticity she needed, and to be a team. The exact opposite of her parents. So when he proposed, she said yes.

And when every red flag in the world popped up and waved itself in her face, she smiled, went to work, and constantly insisted that everything was… completely fine.

She had a job she loved, her own veterinary practice in Portland, Maine, a big goofy dog named Flora, and what she thought was real love. She was happy. All the warning signs and nagging thoughts were just echoes of her parents’ voices telling her she needed to be free, and she shouldn’t tie herself down. She wouldn’t listen. She didn’t listen. For seven years, she went through the motions, comatose, hibernating, putting up with more bullshit from him than even her parents could carry. Then one day he came home from a business trip. He’d barely set his bags down when she said it.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know you never really did.”

She was talking to him, but she also saw her parents as she said it.

Everything broke, then. He broke, she broke, the walls that they’d both been carefully building, the personas they’d been curating, all of it, just crashed to the ground with a violent, angry, thunderous bang.

She tried to move on. After the divorce finalized, she tried to have hope, and to try again to find the stable, true, safe Forever Love she still believed was out there. She met a beautiful boy named Alessandro, reeling from heartbreak himself, and thought that maybe this time it could last. He made her feel beautiful, and wanted, for the first time, really, ever... and then he broke her heart.

She gave up entirely after that. She moved to Boston with Flora, adopted two more dogs (Fauna and Merryweather) and poured herself once again into work and nothing else. The animals were the only important thing - they could bite her, but they couldn’t break her heart. She was kind to people, but kept them at a distance, not willing to risk falling into the trap of love again.

Earlier this year, she was offered a job at Familiar Friend Veterinary Clinic, and moved to Salem. She’s has opened her own animal sanctuary for hurt/abandoned pets and wildlife in the area, and has even ventured to make a friend or two. She’s wounded, but in rehabilitation, and she’s sure she’ll fly again soon.

#srphqintro

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ankewehner · 4 years ago

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The Story of a Boy Who Went Forth to Learn Fear

Number 4 of Grimms’ Fairy Tales, in the 1857 edition. I think this is moderately well known in German language areas, but not very widespread. It is also really weird.

Content notes: uh, broken bones, dead bodies and disturbing treatment of them, death threats, general violence, violent animal death, cruelty against fish

----

A miller had two sons, and one of them was stupid. When his father told him he had to learn something to earn his bread, he said he wanted to learn how to shudder with fear, because that was something people kept talking about that he did not understand at all.

The miller was not happy with it, and complained to people. When the sexton of the local church heard about it, he offered to teach the boy. The sexton taught the boy how to ring the church bells, and after a while sent him up in the church tower to ring the bells at midnight. The sexton himself tried pretending he was a ghost standing in the stairwell. The boy asked that pale figure who they were and what they were doing in the church tower at night, and warned them he would throw them down the stairs if they did not answer. The sexton kept quiet, thinking this was typical ghost behaviour and the boy was not serious, which ended with the sexton thrown down the stairs and breaking a leg.

When the miller heard about that, he sent the boy away with some money, and orders to tell nobody where he was from or who his father was.

So the boy went out into the world, often saying to himself “Oh, if I could shudder!”

One day a man heard that and advised him “Look, there are seven hanged men at the gallows*. If you spend the night there, you will shudder.”

The boy promised him all his money if it worked, and lit a fire below the gallows. The night was cold, and he worried about the hanged men high in the air being even colder than he was, so he took down the bodies and set them close to the fire. Those fellows did not move, even when the rags they wore caught fire, which annoyed the boy, so he hung them up on the gallows again. Since he had not learnt fear, he did not pay the man who had suggested it.

Later in his travels, an innkeeper told the boy about a cursed castle. The king had promised his daughter’s hand in marriage to anyone who could stay there for three nights, because then the curse would be lifted and the evil spirits that guarded the castle’s treasures would disappear.

So the boy went to the king to ask permission to give it a try, and the king let him pick three not-living things he could take with him. He chose a fire, a turning-lathe, and a shaving horse with a knife.

The first night, at first two black cats with fiery eyes appeared who said they were cold. The boy invited them to warm themselves at the fire. After a while they asked if he wanted to play a game of cards, and he agreed, but he said he had to trim their claws, and trapped their paws in the shaving horse to do so. Then he beat them to death and threw them in the water.

A lot more black and unearthly cats and dogs appeared and hassled him, and tried to pull apart his fire, but he took his knife and attacked them, killing some and scaring off the rest.

Once he has stoked his fire again, he wanted to sleep, and noticed a bed in a corner. After he lay down in the bed, it started to wander through the castle, and the boy said “all right, but it could go faster”, and the bed started racing around. At the end up tumbled upside down on top of him, so he threw it aside and when back to the chamber with the fire and slept there. He still had not learnt to shudder.

In the second night, half a man fell down the chimney. The boy called “hey, we need another half!”, and another half man fell down the chimney. The boy stoked the fire, and while he did that, the man put himself together. More men fell down the chimney, and brought nine bones and two skulls, and played skittles/ninepin bowling. The boy wanted to join in, but first worked the skulls on the lathe to make them roll better. He lost some money, and the men and bones disappeared at the stroke of midnight. That was a fun night, and he still had not learnt to shudder.

In the third night, six men bore a coffin into the boy’s chamber. He opened it and recognised his recently deceased cousin. He tried to warm him, but neither warming his own hand near the fire before putting it on his dead cousin’s face, nor laying his cousin near the fire, taking his head in his lap and rubbing his arms to get the blood flowing helped. So at last he put his cousin and himself in the bed together.

The dead warmed up and started to move, and said “Now I will strangle you!”, at which point the boy put him back in the coffin and put the lid back on, and the pallbearers carried the coffin off again.

Next a huge man with along white beard came in, and said “you’ll learn fear, for you will die!” The boy claimed to be stronger than the old man, who agreed to let the boy go if he was really stronger. The man led the boy to a smithy and with an axe struck an anvil so hard the anvil sank into the ground. The boy took the axe and split another anvil, grabbed the old man’s long beard and trapped it in the crack, and started beating the man to death with an iron rod.

The man begged for mercy and offered the boy riches in exchange for his life, to which the boy agreed. The man led him to a cellar with three chests of gold, and told him “a third is for the poor, a third is for the king, and a third is for you,” before he vanished at the stroke of midnight.

So while the boy had still not learnt how to shudder in fear, he had lifted the curse and won the treasure, and married the princess.

He was still going on with his “Oh, if I could shudder!” and it annoyed his wife. Eventually her waiting-maid helped out with an idea: She got a bucket of water from the stream, with many little fishes in it. At night, when her husband was sleeping, the princess pulled back to covers and poured the ice cold water and wriggling fish over him.

He woke up and called, “Oh, I’m shuddering! Now I know what shuddering is! Thanks, dear wife.”

——

* The actual line is, close as I can get, “Look, there’s the tree where seven wed the ropemaker’s daughter and now are learning to fly.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Story_of_the_Youth_Who_Went_Forth_to_Learn_What_Fear_Was

#Grimms' Fairy Tales #Fairy Tales #Fear #my posts #Hauntings

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kassamigos · 4 years ago

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welcome back to gallagher academy, KASSANDRA SUTTON! according to their records, they’re a FOURTH year, specializing in ADVANCED ENCRYPTION + “MACGUYVER” SURVIVAL SKILLS + NAVIGATION; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (bouncing copper hair, a million-watt smile, a sticker-covered macbook, and green eyes rolling at her own corny jokes). when it’s the (sagittarius)’s birthday on 12/05/1998, they always request ICE CREAM CAKE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

NAME: Kassandra Felicity Sutton

KNOWN AS: Kass

BIRTHDATE: December 5, 1998

ASTROLOGY: Sagittarius sun / Cancer moon / Leo rising

HOMETOWN: Virginia Beach, VA

RESIDENCE: Roseville, VA ( Gallagher Academy )

GENDER: Cis female ( she/her )

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

HEIGHT: 5'5"

HAIR COLOR: Brown

EYE COLOR: Green

TATTOOS: None

KNOWN LANGUAGES: English, French, Spanish, Mandarin, German, Italian

IMMEDIATE FAMILY:

Laura Sutton: Mother, President of Gallagher Academy ( Amy Adams FC )

Henry Edwards: Father, accountant & undercover spy, deceased ( Chris Pine FC )

Valeria Sutton: Younger sister, second year at Gallagher Academy ( Danielle Rose Russell FC )

background.

Kassandra Sutton was born the eldest of Laura Sutton and Henry Edwards. As a child, her favorite bedtime story had been hearing about how they had met, a chance run-in while both in Washington DC – her mother a legacy spy, and her father a simple accountant from England. It had been a quick and steadfast love, and within a year of meeting they were married. Not long after the couple moved to Virginia Beach, where Kass and eventually her baby sister Valeria Sutton were born. Most spies keep their career a secret from their family, but Henry had been clued into the family from the start, and the two raised their daughters with the same privy information. Knowing this had always made Kass feel like there were no secrets in their family, and that she could tell her parents everything, a trait that never seemed to leave her.

She was eight years old when her father was killed in a car crash, and it changed everything. Having done a lot of traveling throughout their early childhood, Laura now needed a job stable enough to raise her two daughters alone. So when her alma mater Gallagher Academy offers her the President position during one of the roughest times for the university, it’s hard to turn it down. The Sutton family are given a small apartment in the mansion tucked away from where the students live, and the three of them slowly make it their home and new normal.

Despite permanently being under the same roof as their mother, Laura Sutton had come into the position with a lot of issues to fix, and she used this opportunity to dive into her work. So Kass picked up the slack, packing lunches for her and Val and helping her sister with her homework every evening, trying to shoulder the weight for her mother as much as possible. It caused her to grow up a little quicker than others, but she doesn’t hold any resentment towards her mother for it, because she knows Laura did all she could. Besides, it made her bond with her sister closer than ever, and to this day Val will always be the most important person in her life. If there’s one place she knows like the back of her hand, it’s Gallagher Academy.

One of the hardest things she ever had to do was leave home ( or more specifically, her sister ) to go off to boarding school in Wyoming, practically halfway across the country. But whereas she spent her childhood going to school with normal students and excelling leaps and bounds ahead of them, Kass enjoyed being able to be around like-minded individuals with families more similar to her own. It’s there that she grew into herself, developing her affinity for computers and figuring out who she was outside of Val’s older sister. It’s also when she came out as bisexual, and had her first taste of a relationship with one of her best friends.

It was a strange transition to go from being just another student in prep school to the eldest daughter of President Laura Sutton when she arrived back at Gallagher, this time as a student. Unlike in prep school, there were a lot of students who wanted to befriend her, and Kass had a hard time trying to decipher who wanted to be her friend because of her mother’s legacy, or for her. So she worked hard to make a reputation for herself, using her knowledge of Gallagher to make others feel more welcome and at home, while making an effort never to refer to her mother as President or bringing her job into the conversation. Everyone already knows who she is; they don’t need Kass to remind them.

gallagher academy, third year.

The merging of Gallagher Academy and Blackthorne Institute Kass’ third year had been an unprecedented one, but unlike other Gallagher students, she had no qualms with inviting boys to the school. It was nice to see some of her old prep school friends and family friends under the same roof as her. Learning that Blackthorne had been a school for assassins was surprising, but she didn’t think ill of those who had gone there. After all, it’s not like she had been blind to the possibility of others ending up in that field.

Spring semester was rough for Kass; her two best friends had started seeing two boys, leaving her to feel lonely and forgotten. It didn’t help that her feelings for one of her best friends had returned, and the pressure of others constantly coming to her for advice or their problems had begun to weigh on her. The Valentine’s Day dance turned three-day lockdown only made matters worse, especially after finding out one of the two students who had been murdered was Amelia Taylor, Kass’ ex-girlfriend.

Not like after having a falling out with one of her best friends, an anonymous email is sent around campus, outing students’ parents as previous members of the Brotherhood, an organization behind the death of Amelia and the witness protection student. Imagine her surprise when her father’s name – the normal, civilian accountant – had been on that list. Unable to cope with the betrayal she feels, Kass pushes away her friends and family, and goes off on a rebellious streak, uncharacteristically getting drunk and having a few messy hookups.

It takes Val calling her out on her shit for her to come back to reality, and Kass finally confronts her mother. It’s only then that Laura Sutton tells her the truth: her father had been a Blackthorne alum and Brotherhood member before working as a double agent to help take down the organization, and it was his part in the operation that had gotten him killed. ( You can read the self-para on it here. )

After the news settled, Kass was able to repair the relationships she may have strained, and the imprisonment of Amelia’s killer and the Brotherhood being defeated had her feeling more like her old self. She’s ready for her fourth and finally year at Gallagher in the fall, and to see what the future holds.

personality.

Kass is a total nerd, spending most of her time behind her laptop screen working on hacking jobs or researching whatever her current interest is. Her IQ isn’t abnormally high and she doesn’t have a photographic memory, but she’s quick to be able to pick things up, especially anything binary related. She is also full of useless information that she’s garnered through her many, many nights lost on Wikipedia or Reddit at three in the morning. She’s curious to a fault, often sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong – and being able to break through firewalls and access her mother’s records certainly doesn’t hurt.

Despite being a complete dork, she is extremely personable and has the ability to make friends with just about anyone. Those who welcome her into their life have a fiercely loyal friend on their side that will always drop everything at first call. Kass is optimistic and often quick to trust people, but isn’t as naive as she appears, especially after learning the truth about her father.

She’s also a total romantic, in love with the idea of love, and loves nothing more than to assist other people in their love lives. However, when it comes to her own love life, Kass is notorious for ignoring red flags and going for the first person. Her relationship with Amelia ended in heartbreak after not being on the same page and thinking it was more than it was, so since then she’s learned to protect her heart a little better.

Just call her a golden retriever, because she will lick just about anyone’s face and be their best friend at first meeting.

more information / headcanons:

Kass is a pretty experienced traveler, used to flying from a young age when they would visit her dad’s family in England at least once a year. Once Val went off to prep school and the three Suttons were separated more often than not, they would plan big summer trips during Laura’s time off, visiting places like Italy, France, and Hawaii. Venice is one of her favorite destinations ( it just seemed SO romantic ) .

Her favorite place in the world is Washington DC. The fascination started at a young age when she would daydream about her parents meeting there, but since getting older she’s grown to love all the museums and monuments and make her own memories. Her plans post-grad are to move to DC and get a cyber security job at an agency.

She still has her childhood bedroom in her mother’s apartment, that she does visit at least once a week, mostly because her ball python named Siri lives there. She tried having Siri in her dorm her first year at Gallagher, but one of her roommates wasn’t too keen on living with a snake, so now she keeps her at her mother’s.

One of her most prized possessions is her rock collection, a mixture of different minerals and rocks, as well as rocks and sand from places she’s traveled.

She’s really big into birthdays, and all her friends of hers receive a freshly baked birthday cake from her. They’re not made from scratch – despite enjoying baking, Kass is particularly great at it – but it’s the thought that counts !

Kass has an appetite like Jughead Jones and a diet like a Gilmore girl.

An easy way to her heart is through flowers; sunflowers are her favorites.

TL;DR: Kass is the eldest daughter of President Laura Sutton and has lived at Gallagher Academy since she was eight years old, so she knows the place like the back of her hand. She basically raised her younger sister Val and is an extraverted computer nerd with a thirst for knowledge ( or more accurately, useless facts ) and an optimistic approach on life, though it’s not without hardship.

current & wanted connections here

#this is nothing new my extra ass just wanted to redo the graphic yet again #and tumblr keeps crashing whenever i try uploading it to the original post #gallagher:intro #dont look at me

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inmyarmswrappedin · 4 years ago

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DRUCK reactions - s4 ep4

No, I haven’t forgotten about these! I’m a bit behind, but I’m still on track to finish before s5 starts. Although I hope to be done even earlier, because I don’t know if Amira N’s season is going to leave me with a lot of free time.

( @wodrueckts looked this over! 💛)

CLIP 1: Smooth operator

Amira is finishing up her prayer, when we get a quick cut to a picture of Amira and Sam pinned to Amira’s mirror. So, even though Amira and Mohammed had like three separate moments in the last clip of last episode, Druck wants us to think Sam is still in the picture (literally).

Amira gets a text from an unknown number saying, “Wow, Amira, thanks!” She asks who that is, but then checks her other messaging apps for good measure.

So last Friday, Mohammed sent himself a text from Amira’s phone, making Amira out to have for Mohammed the feelings Mohammed has for Amira. Specifically, “I really like you, but you make me really shy somehow.” I like you, but you intimidate me a bit, as Mohammed has been communicating to Amira pretty much since the start. Calling her the woman with the ice cold gaze and such.

I mean, since this is a fiction series and not real life, we know Mohammed is genuine about his feelings. He isn’t playing Amira, he’s her endgame. But this is such a fuckboy move, lol. I dare you to look me in the eye and tell me none of the Penetrator Chrises (or the Williams) would pull something like this.

Amira can’t believe this man, but she’s also charmed! Relatable.

It’s really cute that Amira is so incredulous that Mohammed asks her if texting himself from her phone is bad, that she actually says “Yes!” out loud before she texts it to him.

Mohammed can’t see how charmed Amira actually is, so he acts a bit more vulnerable and confesses he feels the same way. Or rather, that this is how he feels, since Amira wouldn’t necessarily describe herself like that. (I think Amira, rather than shy, is scared.) Of course, this too could be a tactic.

I think it’s interesting that Mohammed comes across as the biggest player of the Yousefs, certainly more than Sofiane in this early stage, but it’s Sofiane who ended up playing Imane.

Anyway, Mohammed sends Amira a song that he hopes she likes. And I think it’s cute that the song is in German. We don’t know how long Mohammed has been living in Germany, but I figure German the language didn’t hugely feature in his life back in Syria. So this is a song he heard in this new country for this girl he met in this new country.

Then Mohammed teases Amira about only listening to Arabic music, and she’s like, “yeah that’s the only music I listen to!” So Mohammed immediately sends her a voice message. Of him singing. In Arabic.

This is adorable, and Amira is obviously charmed as fuck, as am I. And if Mohammed had previously sent Amira a song to symbolize his new life in Germany, this is Mohammed sharing a part of himself from before Germany. It’s very significant and, for me, the most vulnerable he’s been in this clip.

Mohammed is also a bit embarrassed by his singing voice, but Amira clearly doesn’t care. Nobody cares, Mohammed. Keep singing!

CLIP 2: Essam does dumb things to fit in

Amira wakes up to the dulcet sounds of Essam screaming, and doesn’t get what time it is at first.

She and Mohammed were texting until 11 PM, and Amira fell asleep right as she was going to send Mohammed a song. Her last text was at 23:07 and Mohammed waited until 23:53 before wishing her a good night.

A reminder to renew her vaccines for the Australia trip comes in, and Amira first curls up with her phone. Just lost in the romance of it all, until Essam’s shriek cuts through the song lmao.

Amira checks the phone again and wakes up quick when she realizes the appointment is in 45 minutes. She swears a bit, and I’m very intrigued by this because Amira Naybet avoids swear words entirely, going for PG versions of Spanish swear words.

She’s in a rush now, but Essam has locked himself in the bathroom and refuses to come out. They have a bit of a back and forth (Amira’s threats don’t intimidate Essam at all, it seems) before Essam, having wrapped his hair in a towel, finally opens the door.

He asks Amira not to laugh at him and then reveals that he’s bleached his hair… badly. It’s not even yellow, it’s pretty much orange. Amira says he looks like Donald Trump. Trump wishes he had that much hair tbh.

Essam is actually really upset, and even hides his face in the crook of his elbow. But fortunately he starts laughing a little once Amira cracks up at him. I don’t think I could take sad Essam, it’s completely antithetical to who he is!

Amira asks Essam why he did that to his hair, and said she would’ve helped him if he asked. Essam is all, “no, you wouldn’t. You hate me. You don’t love me at all.” And he just sounds so sincere that I believe he believes that. Like he’s so used to Amira bickering with him (and probably complaining about him to their parents lbr) that he thinks his big sister hates him. It’s just another way in which Essam’s self-esteem is absolutely fragile despite his brash nature.

Essam eventually confesses that he did it because girls (the girls he’s attracted to, that is) only like blond men. The music indicates this is a vulnerable moment for Essam. He feels like he will never be attractive to girls because he’s not white. To Essam, Amira must seem like someone who doesn’t care to fit in with white Germans, because she’s not voicing any complaints that white German boys aren’t knocking at her door. But Essam does want that. Both the white German girls and to fit in.

Anyway, Amira gets this is Essam opening up to her, so she tells him she’ll help fix up his hair. She’s in the middle of sharing her game plan when Mohammed sends a pic, which briefly distracts her.

Essam also sounds sincere when he thanks Amira, and Amira in turn assures Essam she’ll always help him… Though she’s still going to take a picture of him looking like Donald Trump.

We break out of Amira’s POV for a moment, to follow Essam a little longer as he looks at himself in the mirror and tries a Donald Trump sneer. He’s too cute to really pull it off, I’m afraid.

CLIP 3: Everyone (except Amira) is having sex!

I’ll just get it out of the way and say I don’t hate the David/Matteo make outs, nor do I think they were unnecessary.

Like the split screen editing is a bit 🤪 🤪 🤪 creativity! 🤪 🤪 🤪, but the point of this clip is that Amira is surrounded by sexually active people. And David and Matteo have always kept their PDA at cuddling and pecks on the lips in front of people, so it makes sense to me that we’d need to be back on their POV to 1. Show they are into each other, without 2. Actually talking about it with Amira, which would come across as awkward and weird because they’re not that kind of besties.

Like yes, it’s fanservice, but it makes way more sense from a storyline and character standpoint to do it like this than how other Skams handled it.

Though I find it amusing that Druck stans are so vocally opposed to the scene lmao.

Moving on, Kiki and Carlos’ screams of pleasure not only wake up the whole neighborhood from their afternoon naps, but also put off David and Matteo from pursuing their own activities in the hallway.

Amira comes up to them while they’re listening to music and is like, “hey why aren’t you going in?” They’re like, “we don’t want to mention the S word in front of you.” But Amira gets the picture quick once she comes closer to the door.

Druck teases its fans mercilessly as Matteo prods David into admitting his application film is an alien movie with flying body parts. David tries to argue that it’s deeper than that, but lbr this sounds like some campy Z movie nonsense with terrible special effects AND I’M HERE FOR IT. How dare Druck deprive me of this?

Amira’s like, “Yeah that sounds terrible.” Then she starts bickering with Mohammed over text, which makes David and Matteo very 👀 👀 (not that they’re relevant in this season lol).

Then, Sam comes in, and asks why they’re all outside. Unlike Amira, she figures it out for herself and outright asks whether they’re fucking. But she says it in a very pleased way, like she might come in and offer them drinks or condoms, ah god love you!

Amira can’t even take this bit of discussion of sex and wants to come in and end it all. I guess it’s because she’s wondering if people are just going to keep arriving and talking about Kiki and Carlos fucking, although it might also be because she doesn’t know how to be around Sam right now. (Because Sam isn’t just comfortable with people having sex, but she’s sexually active herself.)

Sam grabs Amira’s arm and says not to interrupt Kiki and Carlos, because maybe they’re doing the Happy Baby pose… And like… That’s a yoga pose. I’ll just let y’all google that.

Amira is like, ENOUGH OF THIS! And Sam’s like Okay, miss Priss! Amira wants a second opinion from David and Matteo about this prissiness, and they both plead the fifth.

Right after Sam’s called Amira prissy and put her on the defensive, Sam then says that, in the middle of making out with Abdi, she noticed Amira and Mohammed having a Moment. She’s like, I didn’t know you liked him, I’ll back off. Amira denies being into Mohammed, but Sam doesn’t buy it.

And like… That’s it for this storyline. It’ll never come up again.

I know that doing away with the Skam love triangle pleased the fandom, but I mean, did Druck really get rid of it? They incorporated it, it features heavily in the first couple episodes and is one of the reasons Amira initially is unsure about the viability of her relationship with Mohammed… But it’s never explored in a meaningful way. It doesn’t develop Sam beyond being interested in boysssssss, it doesn’t develop Sam and Amira’s friendship or explore its nuances as well as the nuances of the hypersexualization of black women as opposed to the assumption that hijabis are repressed. Amira doesn’t even get to tell Sam she likes Mohammed onscreen, she tells Mia instead.

Again, this is a storyline that comes across as not something the writers particularly wanted to do, but they needed some filler for the first couple episodes. And the fact that the show then proceeds to decenter Sam after this, while Kiki’s role only increases, is just incredibly disappointing.

And speaking of Kiki’s presence becoming larger… With this subplot out of the way, Kiki now opens the door, looking very much like Noora when she got out of William’s car in s4. (Crazy idea, but what if it was supposed to be a reference to that? Lmao.)

She’s like, “I and Carlos just got done talking to the landlord, which was a conversation that involved no pants in my part!” Matteo calls shenanigans, Amira’s like, “right,” while Sam and David… Kinda look like they think Kiki’s never looked hotter tbh.

Like I said, I don’t have an issue with this clip, but showing Amira being surrounded by sex, yet not giving Amira the space to verbalize how she feels about this, while also getting rid of the Yousef kissing someone else angle, kinda makes this clip pointless tbh. Like the point of constantly surrounding Sana with sexually active couples was meant to make her feel like she couldn’t give Yousef what he supposedly wanted, i.e. a girlfriend who’d be physical with him.

Again, I’m not saying we have to make the Muslim main feel like shit for not being like a white German (we have enough of that with Essam), but at least give this joke a bit of depth by letting Amira talk about it. One issue with the season is that Amira gets thrown a mountain of microaggressions and ways in which she’s different, but viewers aren’t going to get the point that this adds to the pressures Amira faces unless you hit them over the head with it.

CLIP 4: Foreshadowing – the clip.

Amira is practicing boxing at home in order to have an excuse for her to be covering her hair. (Genuine curiosity, should Skams work this hard on coming up with reasons why their hijabi actresses are covering at home? Like I can see the benefit of not wanting to lead people to think hijabi cover 24/7.)

Mohammed texts her a picture of Angela Merkel doing Merkel hands on which he photoshopped a screenshot of Amira from Matteo’s season, along with the caption: Amira for Chancellor. Mohammed be like, I love this show DRUCK, love making shit posts for it.

Mohammed’s memes have put Amira in a great mood, and Mia chooses that moment to call Amira on Skype. Amira can barely get through the conversation, she’s giggling so much. Mia also comes off as really young in this chat, she acted like more of an adult in s3.

Mohammed keeps texting Amira flirty messages about Amira’s political career, and Mia notices that she’s distracted. She wants to know who’s making Amira smile so much, and Amira deflects and says it’s just her brother. Mia notes that Sam’s been raving about Amira’s brothers (so not just Mohammed), and she and Amira have a bit of a back and forth about Amira hiding Essam and Omar from them.

Then Mohammed sends Amira another meme in which he shops himself as Chancellor Amira’s spin doctor, which is both the cutest and saddest bit of foreshadowing. Amira, not being genre savvy, just finds it charming.

Mia wants to know what’s so funny, and Amira’s like, “can you keep a secret?” Mia, being a former Druck main and thus having seen some shit, is immediately alarmed about what this secret might be, and promises to not say a word.

But there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing! Amira’s secret is that she kind of likes Mohammed. Not too much because he’s so tall and his hair is so nice and his eyes so dark. His eyebrows are terrible and so is his moustache that makes Amira zero in on his full, soft lips. Plus his body is so nice because he’s always working out! Mia’s like, so where’s the catch?

Amira’s crush is gigantic, and Mia’s so excited for her, but there’s still something holding Amira back. Maybe it’s that it all seems so easy with Mohammed, or that Amira’s not ready to revise her position that all men are shit, or you know, maybe it’s as simple as Amira enjoying being the lovesick one for once and indulging in the giddiness.

At any rate, Alex is visiting Mia next week (in Spain, where Mia totally is), so that’s coming up.

CLIP 5: Famous last words

Amira and her mom sit down to watch a movie. Amira’s mom is happy to be spending time with her daughter, but Amira is on her phone because Mohammed has asked her, for the hundredth time now, whether she wants to go on a date with him. The man is running out of creative ways to ask Amira out, and she’s still all No ❤️

Amira’s mom wants to know who she’s texting, and Amira says it’s just Kiki. Because Kiki is Amira’s bestie now. Amira’s mom likes her though. She thinks she’s nice and also reminds the viewers of a potential Kiki storyline by commenting on her weight. In hindsight I don’t know why I ever thought s5 wouldn’t somehow deal with Kiki, because the writing is so clearly setting up a Zoë season about Kiki.

Amira’s mom says Amira never confides in her anymore, and eh. I mean, Amira did just lie about who she’s texting, but when Sana’s mom said this to Sana in Skam, it was more significant because Sana had been hiding her Russ plans from her for over three seasons. Amira has been pretty forthcoming with her mom in comparison. She knows about her friends (or about Kiki, at least) and about the trip to Australia. She doesn’t need to know about Amira’s delivery job because she doesn’t have it anymore.

Anyway, Amira bites her lip because she can’t hide this feeling anymore! She likes a boy! He’s nice and smart and cooks well, and Amira’s mom teases her that she’ll never go hungry then, as Amira just burnt the popcorn.

Amira’s mom wants to know whether the boy is handsome (of course!) and Muslim (of course! Famous last words). She wants to meet the boy, but Amira would like to get to know Mohammed better first, which is never going to happen if she keeps turning him down.

With that out of the way, they finally resume watching the movie, which seems to be a Bollywood one because the characters dance all the time. Is it a movie where the climax happens at a wedding, perhaps?? It looks like all the dancing helps Amira make her mind up, as she says, “You only live once.”

CLIP 6: Never leave the house

Amira meets Mohammed at a park, and they exchange a bunch of “Na?” because they’re dumb and into each other. Then Mohammed bravely asks Amira if she missed him, as if he didn’t know at this point that Amira is going to laugh at him. Which she does, because she says no.

They’re in the midst of some mating dance, when Amira notices a hijabi and (presumably) her daughter. She hides behind a tree, because she doesn’t want to be the hot gossip at the mosque, but Mohammed is all, “aw, I remember when I wasn’t traumatized by war and cared about trivial shit like this.”

Or maybe he doesn’t care because he never goes to the mosque. Okay, okay. I’ll stop.

At any rate, this is the first time that Mohammed says or does something that would actually pose a problem to Amira. This is quickly brushed aside because they get lost in each other’s eyes as soon as they make eye contact.

Kiki rudely interrupts this moment, but Amira’s like, “I’m busy, bye.” So she and Mohammed go on a musical montage where they box and push each other, and Mohammed sticks a flower in Amira’s hijab. Just enjoying the romance of it all! Until Amira notices Kiki’s called her three times, and I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

It turns out that, while the parents were away, Essam decided to throw a rager. And he invited Kiki as he’s been working hard for her to notice him on insta. Kiki thought Amira would be attending this party when she got the invite, and has by now realized Amira wouldn’t approve of any of this.

Amira arrives at the party with Mohammed hot on her heels, and Kiki starts apologizing for thinking this was all on the up and up. Amira says her parents are at a wedding for the whole weekend, and Kiki gets distracted by Amira’s pretty lipstick. I don’t want to say Kiki is the secondary love interest, but, you know.

Amira confronts Essam, whose hair is looking a lot better than last time we saw it. Essam doesn’t seem to realize the seriousness of the situation, so Amira leans in and sniffs Essam’s breath. She asks Essam if he’s been drinking but he says no. However, he must be totally out of it because he wanders off, hypnotized by Kiki’s mermaid-esque beauty (or something).

Essam starts dancing with Kiki, who looks uncomfortable but goes along with it. At one point he puts his hand on her hip, and she grabs it and removes it from her body. Carlos (who has been blowing off his friends for weeks but is at this party, lol) notices this as it happens. Carlos shoves Essam and they start fighting.

Essam is bigger, or the German boy squad are lovers, not fighters, or Carlos was totally holding back, but either way Essam gets the upper hand and needs to be pulled off by both Amira and Mohammed. Kiki gets mad at Carlos for getting territorial over her. This is like, one of the most actually feminist moments to happen in a Skam that isn’t Skam España, I gotta say. Meanwhile Amira and Mohammed try to hold Essam accountable, but he starts feeling sick.

As this is all happening, Amira’s mom texts her to let her know that they came back because dad is, coincidentally, also sick (but not for the same reason lol). Amira tells Kiki, who takes charge of the situation and kicks everyone out. She literally shoves people out of the house, and I just think Kiki was born to do this, tbh.

If you think about Kiki’s mom being an alcoholic, it kinda makes sense that Kiki thinks of spraying some air freshener as she leaves. She also takes a crate of bottles with her, but because this is Sana’s season, a couple are left behind. Amira and Mohammed weirdly hide them under a cushion, even though they have time to fold a blanket and regroup.

Mohammed thinks the date didn’t go too badly!

As Amira’s parents walk in, Mohammed has to carry Essam from where he was previously sitting on the floor waiting for the bathroom to be free, to a couch.

Amira’s mom is surprised to see Mohammed in the house, and I’m like, “why though?” It’s not like his outfit screams date (whereas Amira totally looks date-ready), and he and Essam are friends. Parents are so annoying, bless.

But she gets over it, especially as she notices Essam in a fetal position. She comes over to greet him and notices he’s cradling a vodka bottle like a baby, and of course she asks Amira and Mohammed what that is, cause you know, as the older sibling and friend they should be looking after him!

And then, Mohammed, Amira’s self-proclaimed spin doctor, tells Amira’s mom that he brought the bottle (and it just fell into Essam’s hands I guess lol). Amira’s mom is angry and reminds Mohammed that they’re Muslims, which makes me wonder if she knows he doesn’t believe in Allah. She’s also upset at Amira, because you know, they were just watching a movie yesterday and suddenly Mohammed is bringing vodka to her house for Essam to consume excessively, as Amira supposedly watches on in approval.

Amira doesn’t even respond, she’s so upset.

I think Druck pulled off this storyline the best out of the Sana versions, including Skam itself. One of the biggest problems with this storyline in Sana’s season is that it affected characters Sana wasn’t all that close to. Like, best buds and everything, but at the end of the day, Isak and Sana rarely hung out. Because the show is ultimately about the girl squad, not Isak’s squad or his friendship with Sana. So in Skam this storyline affected a school friend of Sana’s, his boyfriend, and a friend of her brother’s. Druck instead made it about Amira’s brother, one of Amira’s closest friends and her boyfriend.

Druck also chose to introduce this storyline in a multi pov episode, so that we got a better understanding of Kiki’s and Carlos’ mindsets going into the episode.

This will be more debatable, but I personally prefer that Druck didn’t hide the fight from us. In Skam, we don’t get to see the fight because Sana is supposed to believe those islamophobic Pepsi Max girls (and Yousef’s interpretation of why Even transferred) over her own brother. And I’m sure part of Julie’s intention was to make Skam viewers examine their own assumptions as to what happened, but the thing is… If people don’t want to examine their prejudices, they simply won’t. There are Skam viewers who, to this day, are convinced that Julie bowed to political correctness or whatever the fuck. Druck makes all the characters’ motives clear and show us how the fight happened, and I’m sure there will still be assholes, but at least it’s not a “he said that’s what happened” situation.

It also doesn’t involve hypothetically homophobic Muslims, which was already dealt with in Isak’s (and Matteo’s) season. I personally don’t think this topic needs a rehash in a Sana season unless Sana herself is queer. Similarly, by making Amira’s brother the person to bring alcohol into the house, you don’t need to make the Sana bow down to the peer pressure of white mean girls.

Given that Essam is the one to bring alcohol into the house and to get handsy with Kiki, Druck did the absolutely correct thing and showed us Essam’s vulnerability before the fight. I would say, aside from Yousef, none of the Skam balloon squad was vulnerable in the same fundamental level that Essam is. Of course Elias is happy to hear that Even asked about him, and Mikael is quiet for a moment when he sees Even in his contact list. But ultimately, that’s friend drama. Essam changing his hair in hopes to fit in and be liked is about Essam himself.

I think Druck dropped Essam’s character arc right there because they intended season 5 to air in fall or winter last year. (Otherwise, why make Essam and Zoë Machwitz be the same age?) Now that both Zoë and Essam would be in their last year of high school, and Nora is slated to be the main instead, I hope they find a way to still fit Essam in there. So at least one Mahmood is done justice, you know.

On the downside, the focus on the Essam/Kiki/Carlos/vodka storyline means that Amira’s and Mohammed’s first date is not just cut short, but because of Druck’s time constraints, it also means that it’s mostly cuteness set to music.

Social media

Apparently Abdi heard that, without an insta, he just couldn’t match up to Mohammed, so he got one. Of course the first person he tells is Sam…

Mia posts a picture of a flamenca, because she’s in Madrid. Alex sends her a bunch of messages about arriving on Sunday, but Mia doesn’t respond to them (she did read them though).

Kiki posted a video of her workout, with Essam posting a similar video the day after to no response from Kiki. Kiki later posts a video of her yoga session, and when Essam does the same thing, he actually goes ahead and tags her in the story. The second hand embarrassment was felt across the globe.

After Amira tells Mia about her crush on Mohammed, she texts Sam to let her know as well. Sam takes it well (she’d pretty much figured it out after all). They agree to hang out later, and we get a couple pics on insta to commemorate the event. Which Abdi later copies to get Sam’s attention. Just a terrible week for thirsty men on Druck.

Meanwhile, Matteo takes David to meet his mom, and David later posts an evocative drawing to commemorate the event. And that’s all we’re ever told about that, much to the frustration of David/Matteo stans.

Abdi poses with a sleeping Sam and posts the pic to his insta and omg, Abdi! Just stop.

Before the party, Kiki and Carlos fight over text because Carlos has decided to get a Fachabi rather than an Abi (so, like, a kind of high school diploma that would make it harder for him to go to uni, and better suited for a trade) without telling Kiki. I gotta say, I know Kiki and Carlos have moved in together and everything, but I think Carlos’ tertiary education being a team decision is way too intense for two high school graduates, as far as I see it.

There’s this one pic from Kiki’s stories where Essam is posing with a bunch of white girls, and it just gave me the worst flashbacks to those sorority videos where everyone is scarily in sync.

Final thoughts

The boy squad and balloon fight is the turning point in Sana’s season, and by moving it up and combining it with the booze left behind storyline, Druck turned it into a side storyline about Essam, instead. As I said, I think they pulled it off much better than Skam, but it also means that this is Amira’s third episode and Druck has chewed through most of the storylines in Sana’s season (including the love triangle with Noora/Sam, which is tossed aside this episode).

At this point, the only storylines left are Yousef’s lack of faith, Noorhelm drama and… The cyberbullying storyline which ends up unintentionally hurting Vilde. Ideally, Druck would’ve focused on the former of the three, and would have still gotten four episodes to really deal with it in a nuanced way, but we’ll see how that worked out.

#druck #about druck

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inkstaineddove · 5 years ago

Text

Loneliness and Alcohol

Ships: PruHun, SpaAus, GerIta; blink-and-you-missed-it USUK

Characters: Prussia, Austria, Hungary, Germany, Italy, Spain, France, America; mentioned Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Romano, and Belarus

Summary: Every year America sends all the nations invitations to his New Year's Eve party and every year Germany, Hungary, and Austria decline. Until 2019, when America finally invites Prussia, and they're all dragged along. It's Roderich's worst nightmare, but Gilbert and Erzsébet have plans to cheer him up.

Berlin, 2019.

Germany entered his home, grumbling and shuffling through the stack of mail in his hands. Trash, trash, bill, trash. He scowled at the sparkles sticking stubbornly to his fingers. “America’s New Year’s Eve party invitations arrived.” He glanced over at Hungary and Austria, sitting at the dining table and gossiping with Prussia. “I don’t know why he continues to send me one. I’ve been declining the damn things since the fifties. Have you two gotten yours?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve been here all weekend.” Hungary wrinkled her nose at the thought of attending. “I don’t want the hassle of flying over there. I’ll send him a bottle of champagne to be polite.”

“I received mine before I left this morning.” Austria sniffed, sticking his nose up. “I can only imagine what kind of parties he throws. They’ve got to be houses of debauchery and sin. I loathe going to New York for the U.N. meetings enough as it is. I will not be heading there in my leisure time.”

Prussia nodded vigorously. “Yeah, his stupid little shindig isn’t worth the airfare!”

“Calm down, he sent one for you too this time.” Ludwig slipped the little piece of paper before Gilbert, watching his brother’s expression change.

Eyes wide open, then blinking in disbelief, to a steely determination. This changed everything. “Actually, I’ve heard from Francis that he’s got fountains of beer flowing. Isn’t that amazing?” He took Erzsébet’s hands in his, turning his whole body towards her. “We should go! It would be fun!”

She jerked her hands away from him. “No! I refuse to go on principle! You can’t stand the guy, the only reason you want to is because he bothered to remember you this time!”

“Not true!” He felt everyone’s disbelief boring into his skin. He bowed his head, hoping humility would work in his favor. “I never get invited to anything anymore. This feels special.”

“Aw, cheer up. You still do,” she leaned in and kissed his cheek. A teasing smile inched the corner of her mouth up. “As my plus one.”

This solicited a chuckle from Roderich, who was silenced by Gilbert’s heel digging into his toe. Gilbert sighed dramatically. “I liked it better when it was the other way around.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Erzsébet’s ear. “We could go for an hour and then leave. Dance the night away far away from him. Have a picnic under the stars. Let me have my fun and then the night’s yours.”

What would be the harm in it? And, really, a night with him traipsing through New York could be rather romantic. It would make up for having to deal with everyone else. “An hour, tops, to feel like a hotshot. I don’t want to stay longer.”

Ludwig sat down, coffee in hand, in the empty seat besides Roderich and Erzsébet. “I can recommend you two a hotel close to his home. There’s a few good ones.” He looked up from his drink, meeting Gilbert’s gaze. There was an incomprehensible look in his brother’s eyes. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, wait, actually. Lean over.” He forcibly wiped away a speck of dirt from the other man’s cheek, paternal instinct kicking over. It made Gilbert feel useful and Ludwig completely embarrassed. “I’m just surprised you’re letting me go to one of these things unsupervised. This’ll be fun for me. I’ll be on my best behavior as the representative of Germany there. If his boss is there, I might ask about helping us get back some land to the east. In our best interest, of course.”

“I would consider it a victory if he even knew what Prussia was, Gilbert.” Ludwig could feel the vein in his forehead beginning to throb. He hadn’t considered this unintended consequence. He would have to trust his brother. He could do that. He could manage to trust Gilbert for one night.

Roderich gently tapped his fingers against the table, understanding what Gilbert was trying to do. “Excellent idea! And, while you’re at it, let Feliciano know not to look for Ludwig.” He turned his attention to Germany. “Afterall, he will be so gravely disappointed at your absence. My heart breaks for the poor man.” He clutched his chest for dramatic effect.

Realization dawned on Ludwig. So that’s what they were getting at. “Anything left from the third stooge, Erzsébet? Or is that enough from the peanut gallery?”

She did have something but didn’t want to add fuel to the fire. He was chewing through his cheek enough as it was already. “What was that? I don’t speak German.” She spoke, naturally, in perfect German. This won her groans from Roderich and Gilbert, who had received that joke many times before, and a stare with deadened eyes from Ludwig.

“Fine! I’ll go! Are you both happy?” Ludwig got ready to chew them both out before something clicked. “Wait. Roderich, you can’t stay here. If we’re all gone, who are you going to freeload off?”

“Must you be so rude in your phrasing?” Roderich crossed his arms over his chest. “Have you considered that having all of you not even on the same continent as me might be what I want? I would enjoy a quiet New Years with a glass of champagne while strolling through the city.”

Erzsébet rubbed a hand along his forearm. “It’s ok to say you’ll miss us. You’re the one who wanted to see us all today.”

Ludwig nodded. “And you typically show up here, unannounced.” He chuckled, remembering something. “Once you’ve had a few drinks, you start blathering on about how lonely it is in Vienna and how lovely it was during the war to have everyone living together.”

Roderich opened his mouth to protest. That sort of thing was supposed to be private and never mentioned again! Unfortunately, Gilbert reentered the room, shaking his phone in his hands. “Just got word back from the boys that they’re all going. And you know what that means, Roddy? The only person to make you feel like a man-”

“Fine, you lot win! I’ll go! We’ll all go!” He buried his head in his hands. “That is the last time I confide in either of you two. Blackmailing me like that, how low.” He shook his head.

Gilbert clapped him on the shoulder hard, causing Roderich to wince. “Relax, this really isn’t so bad.”

---

New York.

The four of them sat in complete silence, cramped in the back of a taxi. They had landed only four hours before and found themselves completely jetlagged. Gilbert had his head buried in Erzsébet’s shoulder. They both were propped up against the window. “Why did you drag me to this thing?”

She was too drained to fight back. “Because I’m an idiot.” If she closed her eyes, the continuous stopping and starting of the car felt like being rocked to sleep. There was a certain peace and rhythm to it. Her eyelids began fluttering down, down, down.

“Sir, pull over here please. We can walk the rest of the way.” Ludwig handed the man a twenty, jerking awake the drowsy trio besides him. As the most accustomed to making this flight, he was least affected by it. “Come on, get out. We’re a block away. This will perk you three right up.”

This displeased Roderich greatly. Walking, in these shoes? They were meant for completing an outfit, not for any sort of movement. “Oh, why do we care to be on time. This damn thing will be lasting the whole night.” At Ludwig’s aggrieved look, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, we’ll have it your way.”

“Of course, the one time I’m wearing heels. They’re worthless, you can’t do anything in them but stand around uselessly.” Erzsébet was having her own version of the same problem. She leaned against a wall to take them off. “Now I’ll have to walk barefoot in this grimy place.”

“You won’t. Your knight in shining armor is here to save the day.” Gilbert scooped her up bridal style, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Nothing to fret about now, Liebling.”

She gently caressed his cheek. “Quite the gentleman tonight, huh?” She leaned in against him, laughing against the crook of his neck. “I could get used to traveling around like this. I may have a job for you.”

Hearing their giggling and affectionate words, Roderich couldn’t help rolling his eyes. With all his might, he caught up to Ludwig to put further distance between himself and them. Hearing Gilbert’s low voice singing something indecipherable sent a further wave of nausea through him. “Don’t they make you sick too? It’s disgusting.”

“Hmm? Oh, them.” Ludwig chuckled. He’d been born into that weird triangle, and yet, it never ceased to amuse him. “Please, they’ve been doing that in front of me since I was a child. You get used to it.” A pause. Another chuckle. “Why see them so often if you can’t stand it still? One might think you’re a masochist.” The last word lilted up another octave. He couldn’t help it; he’d inherited his brother’s love of for annoying Roderich.

“Don’t imply things. It’s unbecoming.” Roderich shoved his hands into his coat, partly from the bite of the wind and partly to give him something to do. “Who else would I spend my time with? I have no other friends.”

Ludwig gave him a pitying look. Thankfully, before he could say anything in response, they were before Alfred’s door. Loud music could be heard booming from the other side. He politely rang the doorbell. No answer. He rang it again. “He must not be able to hear. Maybe I should call someone to let us in.”

“For Christ’s sake, Lud, we’re not vampires! Just open the damn door!” Gilbert pushed him aside and shoved the door open. Inside the home laid a different world. Sparkling balloons kissed the ceiling. Strobe lights flashed in the center, creating a dance floor. Glitter clung to the floor and women’s bodies. Some big singer, none of them knew who, stood on stage, performing her biggest hits for the receptive audience. The smell of smoke hung in the air as fireworks went off in the backyard. It was lavish, it was gaudy, it was quintessentially American.

Gilbert’s eyes traveled immediately to the promised fountain of beer. He thirstily filled a cup with some and took a sip, only to spit it back out. “My God, this is revolting! It tastes like piss!” He took out a flask of the good stuff he’d smuggled in from home out of his pocket to take the rancid flavor out of his mouth. His first goal of the night was already ruined. “Where did Ludwig go?”

“He raced off to go find Feliciano. He went…” Roderich’s voice trailed off as he tried remembering where in the sea of people Ludwig had been absorbed. His bearings were completely lost. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Erzsébet sidled up to Gilbert, a devilish smirk on her face. “You know, Alfred’s got plenty of rooms here. What do you say about sneaking away and having a good, long nap?”

He snaked his arms around her waist. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.” They began laughing like school children, enjoying their little conspiracy.

Roderich’s irritation grew further. He began tapping his foot, needing somewhere to put his frustrated energy. “You two don’t need to play so coy. Or, if you must, I would expect you to be more creative than using napping as a euphemism.”

Blank stares met him. “Roddy, we’re literally going to take a nap. We’re both exhausted.” Gilbert began elbowing him in the side. Roderich didn’t trust the glint in his eyes. “If you’re so worried about our sex life, I can fill you in on the details.”

Before Roderich could even respond, Erzsébet was dragging Gilbert away, his guffawing thankfully swallowed by the noise of the crowd. Roderich sighed, relieved to be alone. A new problem arose. Now, what would he do, who would he follow? He looked around the room, hoping for some familiar face. No one. A mass of strangers, swaying along to the music and spilling their drinks. Nothing he wanted to be apart of.

Where were his manners? He’d been graciously invited to another person’s home and he hadn’t even thanked the host yet. Being around all these ruffians had caused him to forget himself. Straightening his suit jacket, he began braving the throngs of people. Along the way, between getting nudged around by delirious dancers, a glass of wine had made its way into his hand. He didn’t mind. Surprisingly, it was of excellent quality. He suspected it must’ve been the Italians’ gracious donation to the festivities.

There in the backyard was the host. Alfred was bumping and grinding away in the center, dirty dancing with an incredibly inebriated Arthur. Francis was yoking them up, benefiting himself from the hordes of beautiful men and women attending. Roderich would rather avoid them, but it would go against the rules of decorum he so stringently followed. Mustering up all his courage, he approached.

“Alfred. Alfred! America!” Finally, America’s attention was caught over the music. “I sincerely want to thank you for the invitation. I wish I had attended one of your parties sooner, but I’m usually quite busy this time of year, what with the holidays.” He was lying through his teeth. He wanted nothing more than to be back in Vienna. This was the kind of nightmare scenario only Gilbert could drag him into.

“Yeah, dude, no probs. You’re totally invited here whenever. Me casa, is your casa.” It appeared that Alfred was long gone as well. “Dude, you should’ve been here hours ago. We’ve been pregaming it since nine this morning.” His laugh, which was always obnoxious, was even more grating. “Tomorrow’s gonna be the most intense hangover in the history of hangovers, right Artie?”

Arthur had lost the ability to speak and was only able to communicate in a series of grunts. Sensing Roderich’s horror, Francis swooped in. “Come, let’s go inside to the bar there.” He began steering them away from the center of the party, tutting his lips. “This is no good, why did you come? Your weak constitution can’t handle these sorts of events. Who dragged you here?” He shook his head, knowing the answer already. “No, don’t tell me. You have to stick up for yourself more.”

“I’ll have you know, perhaps I wanted to come on my own. I’m capable of deciding things for myself, unprompted.” He didn’t have to see Francis’ face to know the reaction to what he said. He sighed. “Who else would I have spent my time with? No one wants to spend New Years alone.” He realized they were still speaking English, instead of switching to French like Francis preferred in one-on-one conversations. Despite not showing it, the other man must’ve been drinking heavily too.

Suddenly, Francis turned around. His index finger traced Roderich’s jawline. “No, you are too beautiful to ever be alone. It’s good you came tonight. Come with me, I can make you forget all your worries for the night.” He allowed Francis to kiss his cheek, his breath stinging of stale booze. “It’s been too long since we’ve been together. Please, honor me with the memory of how you win with love.”

Despite himself, Roderich had to admit it was tempting. If everyone else was going to have their fun tonight – or, so he assumed, he had no plans on asking – then why shouldn’t he? “My apologies, but it seems that memories are all you’ll have tonight. From me, anyways.” It wouldn’t feel right. Not when he was so clearly off his game. Leaving him staring after him, Roderich took a spot at the bar.

Nursing a glass of wine, he considered that this wasn’t so bad. At home, in front of his favorite café, he enjoyed people watching. It was a peaceful way of passing the time, to see all the people rush by and create little stories for where they were going. Normally, it was quite easy to get into it, but he saw too many people he knew. Romano with his arms around two women’s waist. The Netherlands being yelled at over money by an irate woman. Belgium shimmied to the bar and back, laughing with a group of girls she’d befriended. Everyone was here, everyone was having a good time. The only mystery was why wasn’t he.

Before the full wave of self-pity could sweep him, he spotted Germany and Italy chatting on a couch. It was a sign, a sign that he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of the night in the corner. Never in his life had he been so excited to see Feliciano. He even greeted the man with a warm hug, ignoring the frustration rolling off Ludwig in waves.

“Austria! Ludwig was telling me you were here, but I didn’t believe him! How exciting, having the both of you here!” Feliciano was practically vibrating with joy. He was overcome with emotion, but that came as no surprise to his companions. It’s how he always was. “Sit down next to me, I can sit on Ludwig’s lap!”

Roderich complied, ignoring the daggers Ludwig was shooting at him. “Well, it would be rude not to.” He full attention was on Feliciano. “Tell me, how have you been? Did you only recently arrive?” With that, he was off to the races. The Italian could talk a mile a minute, filling up all the space in the room. For once, Roderich didn’t find it annoying. It gave him something to focus on, something to find enjoyment in. And he was having a good time. The kid had grown up to be entertaining in his own way.

The same could not be said for Ludwig. The vein in his forehead was throbbing. Before this, he had been having a nice evening, much to his chagrin. Having his cousin tag along was not something he wanted. He cleared his throat. “Where’s Gilbert and Erzsébet? Did you lose track of them?”

“They ran off as soon as we got here to sleep together.” Roderich realized his mistake. “To nap! Supposedly they’re jet-lagged.” His face felt extremely hot.

“I guess they woke up cause there they are. Gil! Erzsi!” Feliciano jumped up, waving towards them at the bar. They began waving them over. “Let’s all go over to them! I wanna say hi!”

While his date was preoccupied, Ludwig had been furiously shaking his head at them. “No!” This didn’t need to become a family affair. He wouldn’t have it become that. “Actually, France is looking for us. Let’s go find him.” Not waiting for an answer, he dragged away a very startled Feliciano.

Once again abandoned, Roderich slinked back to the bar. As soon as he arrived, he was ensnared by Gilbert’s arm. He could smell scotch on his breathe as he spoke. “What have you been up to, Roddy? You better be out there, mingling with everyone, making me proud.”

His silence was telling. Erzsébet put a hand to her chest, sighing. “Oh, he’s so lonely. Gil, we have to take him in.” Much to Roderich’s dismay, they both were far gone. They couldn’t have been sleeping for long to be this drunk. That, or they kept downing drink after drink in short succession. He wasn’t sure which was more comforting.

His protestations that he wasn’t some stray puppy were drowned out by Gilbert. “Of course, we can! Who else would take care of him? Oh, don’t look so depressed, Roddy.” He leaned over the bar. “Can we get a round of kamikazes?”

Roderich stared down at his little glass. He sniffed at it and scrunched his nose up. What a foul concoction. “I appreciate it, but I don’t see how this will improve my mood.”

“It’ll help you loosen up. You’ve been uptight ever since we were on the plane.” Erzsébet gently elbowed him in the side. “I know this isn’t your thing. Try to have a little fun, Roderich. No one here is going to judge you for it.”

She herself looked so at peace, didn’t he want a little bit of that? Besides, the two of them were staring at him so expectantly. Did it matter this much to them that he felt included and part of their little group? He had thought they only kept him around out of pity, perhaps it was more than that. “You two are a horrible influence on me.” He knocked the shot back, met with rapturous cheering from them.

Another three rounds and Roderich himself was now feeling the effects. His ears were so warm, his feet so tingly. It took all his balance to lean into the bar counter for support. His vision was a little fuzzy, but he still felt aware of everything around him. That awareness was spent on watching them – their arms intertwined, feeding another shot to each other, foreheads pressed together while giggling. “Doesn’t that get tiring?” Maybe it wasn’t for them, but he found it exhausting.

That snapped them out of their fog. Gilbert was grinning like an idiot. “Why would it get tiring? I’ve spent lifetimes waiting for her. I’ve got her now, so completely. You want me to back off for your comfort? Please, I couldn’t if I wanted to.” He had been staring into Erzsébet’s eyes as he spoke. He leaned in, only to find he was kissing air.

Erzsébet had been speaking at the same time as him, giving Roderich difficulty in following along with them both. All her usual inhibitions in speaking on this subject towards her ex were gone. “I had a crush on him growing up and now I get to live out a fairy tale. He’s right, we’re made for each other. And,” a devilish look settled on her face. When Gilbert went in for his kiss, she had pulled Roderich towards her to whisper in his ear. She dished on all the vulgar reasons for their behavior.

“Good God, Erzsi! I don’t want to hear all that!” He gently pushed her away and stole her drink, finishing it in one gulp. He hoped to forget what she had said, but she’d painted too vivid of a picture for him. “Why would you think that appropriate?”

“Wait, what did you say?” Gilbert leaned down so she could repeat it. “You tease.” They locked lips, grabbing at each other’s clothes.

Roderich didn’t know whose tongue he was seeing, but he knew he wanted it gone. He pulled them apart. “Holy shit, enough! Enough! Are you two forgetting that I’m here?”

“You’re right, Roderich, I’m sorry.” She pulled him into a deep kiss. Once satisfied, she let him go with a laugh. “There, now it’s just like old times. Oh, but what were we saying before? Right! I wouldn’t mind if you told me whatever you got up to. It’s been, what? A hundred years since the divorce? What happens in our personal lives now doesn’t matter.”

At the mention of their divorce, Gilbert ordered another round of shots. He shoved one onto Roderich, who certainly didn’t want to be drinking to that. At this point, why did it matter? Why did anything matter? Seeing whatever that mess was in the backyard, hearing in detail about Erzsébet and Gilbert’s sex life, becoming completely wasted. There was no meaning to this night. “Well, if we’re being honest, there’s nothing to say. I haven’t been with anyone in years.” He clinked glasses with his shocked companions. “Cheers to the life of a bachelor.” He enjoyed his drink.

His admission was a surprising one. Hadn’t this been the man who, during his days of empire, was willing to lie down with anyone if it served his purpose? How could this behavior have so suddenly ceased? It was no wonder he was so perpetually grumpy; it was a much deeper problem than Roderich’s baseline snootiness. Gilbert and Erzsébet shared a look of understanding. A moment of clarity provided them with a new purpose for the night.

Erzsébet began straightening his clothes, smoothing out the wrinkles with her hands. Once she felt her work completed , she combed his hair with her fingers, tucking loose strands behind his ears. “Oh, Roderich, you poor thing.”

For his part, Gilbert ran through a list of people he knew in his head. “Francis would be an easy one. But then you run the risk of catching syphilis and that’s no good. You shouldn’t go near strangers, you can’t talk to anyone.” He drummed his fingers against the bar counter. “Natalya’s gorgeous, but no one can handle that.”

This was ridiculous. Roderich didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this. Why did he allow himself to be strong-armed into this night? “Stop it, I never asked for this. Both of you, you’ve completely lost it.” His head felt woozy and it wasn’t from the drinks. Their pity was dizzying.

If they heard him, they didn’t care. Something else had caught their attention. “Spain!” Damn Prussia’s voice and how it always carried. Spain was snapped to attention and began waving them over. As he was pushed along, Austria decided this was the worst possible outcome of his life. Forced to travel to a country he found the bane of the civilized world, his only company his ex-wife and the man who was quickly becoming his worst enemy again and humiliating himself before his ex-husband. It would almost be comical if it wasn’t reality.

“My life is a tragedy of errors.” Austria sighed wistfully. He suddenly missed the days where he was on top of the world and wouldn’t be made to suffer such indignities. Though, if he allowed himself to be honest, how much they cared was oddly charming if they weren’t so overzealous.

Spain was equally thrown off by the sight before him, but for much different reasons. “Oh, you three are still keeping up with that getting along thing. I would’ve thought all of you would be tired of each other by now.” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. “I miss the fighting, it was much more interesting.”

“If it’ll get you in the mood, we can start hitting each other.” Gilbert shrugged, ignoring the horror on Antonio’s face. “Put the lust back in bloodlust, you know.”

Roderich was staring intently at the floor. He thanked the dim lighting for hiding his blush. “Gilbert, I swear to god. If you keep speaking, it’ll be like the old days in more ways than one.” He spoke through gritted teeth, trying to control the outburst that was begging to be let loose.

Gilbert tried to wink, but due to his intoxication it appeared more as a twitch. “I understand completely. New tactic. I’ll help you loosen up instead.” He started vigorously massaging Roderich’s shoulders. “Shit, you’ve got a lot of tension. What’s got you so stressed out?”

To make matters worse, Erzsébet began giving him a pep talk. She was bouncing around on the balls of her feet with her fists in front of her like a prize fighter. “Rod, you’ve got this. You’ve done this before, you can do it again. Give him the full force of your charm! Start smiling, it makes you look pretty!”

Antonio had not moved from his spot. He watched them closely, unable to contain his laughter. For him, this was an amusing little skit. A performance that could be fully enjoyed. Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he smiled. “Are they alright? What’s going on here?”

“They think I’m pathetic so they’re trying to be my wingmen.” Roderich shrugged Gilbert off, glaring at him. “They’re so out of it, I don’t think they realize how much more harm than good they could be doing.”

“Oh, who are they trying to set you up with?”

The three stooges ceased their nonsense. Could Antonio really be that oblivious? Was it not painfully obvious? Then they remembered who they were dealing with. Of course he would be like this. Slowly, acting as if they were dealing with a startled animal, Erzsébet and Gilbert backed away. Roderich could still feel their eyes on them, but for the first time didn’t care.

“That part doesn’t really matter.” Despite the shift in the mood, he wasn’t about to admit his hand so early. That would be more embarrassing than everything that had happened previously. No, not while a spark of hope just reignited itself. “What I’m more interested is in you.” His tongue was too loose. “In what’s been going on with you! How’ve you been, why you’re here.” It was a lackluster recovery, but Antonio didn’t seem to pay it mind.

“You’re really only interested in small talk with me? Roddy, I think we know each other better than that.” Antonio gently bumped him with his shoulder. “I’m not the mystery here. You’re out here, partying, drinking the night away. I couldn’t believe it at first. I thought it was your evil twin.”

Roderich swirled his glass of wine in his hand. “I don’t quite believe it myself. But the mark of a good man is in his acceptance and willingness to change, to be open to experience.” He chuckled, a crass joke coming to mind. “And you know me, I’ll try anything once.”

That won him a surprised and appreciative laugh. Roderich forgot how comfortable Antonio was, how easy his presence was. A part of him had missed this, a part of him he had tucked away many years ago. This was the man that started it all for him. There was a nostalgia there, a sense of belonging and home. Was it memories as substitute for any remaining chemistry? Who was to say? Certainly, he didn’t find himself caring at this moment. Hard questions could be answered tomorrow. Let tonight be for spontaneity.

As they spoke, the physical and emotional distance kept growing smaller. It was only when their arms were brushing against each other that Roderich fully noticed the lack of personal space. He found himself appraising Antonio’s figure, starting from his toes to his calves to his thighs to his…assets to his chest and lingering in his eyes. “I forgot how nicely you cleaned up. You’ve always looked-” Divine? Beautiful? Stunning? Flirting had never been his forte, much to aggrievement of both his spouses. “Resplendent.”

“Oh, don’t make me blush. Wait, here.” Antonio began futzing with Roderich’s tie, chuckling. “Didn’t get someone to tie the knot for you this time? Let me fix it for you.” In a fluid motion, he made the tie a bit tighter than needed. Their eyes remained locked the whole time, a smirk on the corner of Antonio’s lips and a blush darkening Roderich’s face.

Uproarious cheering broke out throughout the home. The ball had dropped. The new year had begun. Without saying a word, Antonio pulled him in. Their lips met and it felt like renewal. Whatever remained of Roderich’s restraint fell away when Antonio tugged at his lip. What brought him back to reality was the overjoyed sounds of Erzsébet and Gilbert, celebrating in their victory.

He rolled his eyes, a thousand different things coming to mind. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. What could he bark at them? Their actions had been maddening throughout the whole night. And, while he found how they had behaved degrading for all involved, what did it show him? That, in their very strange way, they truly cared about him. That they didn’t view him as the third wheel who continued to tag along out of habit, but as part of their weird little group was. Whatever the result of the rest of the night, he considered this to be more important.

Friendship. It was the only kind of friendship either of them were capable of – messy and complex and interwoven in ways no other parties could ever fully understand. He valued it most of all.

Roderich held up his watch and tapped it. He couldn’t believe himself. “It’s midnight. You two better catch up with the rest of us.” For the first time in his life, he actually laughed as they grabbed for each other and began kissing (he supposed that’s what it was, it was far too animalistic for his tastes) with frantic energy.

Antonio looped his arm through Roderich’s and began steering him towards the door. “Come on, Cinderella. I’ll walk you back to your hotel room.”

“Such a gentleman.” What a way to ring in the new year.

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xstick-noodlesx · 5 years ago

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My sister and I talked about weird things in the wizarding world (1/?)

@akira-vargas

-the castle is way too big

-the stairs keep moving and I bet every student was late because of that at least once

-candles everywhere are a fire hazard, especially floating ones

-all the dangerous things that Dumbledore keeps should NOT be kept in a school for children or the surrounding woods (eg. trolls, three-headed dogs, giant fuck-off snakes, giant spiders, the stone, …)

-Dumbledore is an irresponsible principal

-he just hires teachers that he likes without any background checks

-he hires Remus and doesn’t check whether or not he goes somewhere safe or takes his potion during full moons

-kids can participate in deadly tournaments

-the “treasures” are literally other children that were basically taken and put on the bottom of a lake

-one of the teachers bullies children to the point that one child’s biggest fear is literally that teacher

-instead of sending kids to normal detention, he has them walk around the dangerous, beast filled forest in the middle of the night

-someone is petrifying students and Dumbledore doesn’t think of sending the students home

-kids could literally fall from the moving staircases if they move while the kids are on them

-talking pictures are creepy and you can’t convince me not at least one of the pictures creeps on the kids

-when Hogwarts presumes Sirius is looking for Harry, they just go along with their day and don’t try to give him extra protection at all

-no phones, sending important messages through owls would take way too long

-the whole Sirius situation proves how incompetent the ministry is and no one – not even Dumbledore – thought twice of locking someone up without proper trial

-they have literal house elve slaves

-the Black family is literally abusing their kids and no one thinks twice about it and why? because they're an old wizard family

-travelling through toilets

-Dumbledore's first instinct after finding little Harry with his parents dead is to give him to his aunt and uncle who he knows hate wizards

-why can’t Harry just bring a gun or a knife or smth to a fight

-why do they have to use feathers and not pens – just the thought of writing my A-Levels with a feather instead of a pen physically pains me

-they don’t use ANY muggle technology like lamps, telephones, etc.

-the only muggle technology they use are like toilets and before that, they literally shat on the floor

-the only prison we ever hear of is Azkaban but imagine going to Azkaban and being in the cell next door to a murderer for stealing an owl

-also, the fact that Azkaban is supposed to be high security and literally every other person breaks out

-are there any people working at Azkaban or do the Dementors cook the meals for the prisoners??

-the only thing the Dementors really do is inconvenience and nearly kill children

-why isn’t time travel used more like if you’re careful it should be fine

-care for magical creatures is way too dangerous for children, it’s like us interacting with wild bears

-the fact that Dobby could block the entrance to the platform 9 ¾ without any problems so that two students couldn’t get to school is “dumb as shit” (quote, my sister); it’s like some random dude coming up to your school, locking the door and keeping you out and no one does anything about it

-why send first years across a lake at night in little boats with only the groundskeeper to supervise them; safety hazard

-they have not enough teachers I feel

-are there only like ten beds for each year for each house? what if there’s one student more?

-the fact that they have to use a password to get into their house

-the fact that the Ravenclaws have to solve a riddle to get into their house so what if someone else just happens to solve the riddle???

-they use the same old hat to sort every student and what if one of the students have lice then every first year after that student will have lice

-how much food gets thrown away every day at Hogwarts???

-are there more wizarding schools than the four we know of? like is there one in Germany? Or Poland? Or Iceland? Or South America? Imagine being an eleven-year-old German child and being sent to Hogwarts and knowing little to no English because, well, you’re an eleven-year-old child

-is there sex ed in Hogwarts??

-Gryffindor wins everything; you can tell they are Dumbledore’s favourites

-the wizarding world basically has the death penalty or the soul-sucking penalty which is just as bad

-prisoners are basically abused and/or neglected when in Azkaban

-they had one detention where a student has to sign autographs late at night with his teacher

-the only competent defence against dark arts teacher gets fired because he transformed into a werewolf on school grounds which is something that Dumbledore should have been able to prevent

-Snape isn’t only bullying children, he also bullies his colleagues and NO ONE gives a frick

-the fact that a little girl died on the school grounds and another student was framed and convicted; none of the teachers faced repercussions because of the negligence

-the fact that that little girl is now a ghost and peeping on other students on the toilets

-the fact that there are no safety measures taken during quidditch?? what if a student falls from their broom??? What if someone gets a bludger to the face???

-why is there a restricted section in the school library??? If the books are dangerous why are they in a school library???

-why does harry get to keep the invisibility cloak??

-don’t they have PE for like the students that don’t want to play a dangerous broom flying sport??

-why is there a literal roller coaster with a dragon down in the bank basement??? Why is it such an inconvenience to get some money from the bank???

-the houses themselves make no sense?? Like personalities can change??

-some student died during the tournament and there are no repercussions?? No one is sued??? No one is angry at Dumbledore or the other headmasters???

-what if you need to talk to Dumbledore but don’t know his stupid office password??

-why do they have one book that just screams at you when you open it???

-or a book that tries to eat you as soon as you open it??? And you need to like pet it to open it

-why is everyone angry that one of the teachers is a werewolf but no one cares about giant squids, murderous mermaids in the lake, giant spiders, giant snakes, etc??

-if I was a parent and my child would be bullied by Snape you can bet your butt that I’d have him fired

-Dumbledore is constantly encouraging Harry’s reckless behaviour

-the fact that you have to get parental permission to go to Hogsmeade

-how is a cat or a toad supposed to bring you your mail??

-why can every student bring a pet?? That seems like such a mess to me. What if I’m allergic to cat hair and my roommate has a cat?? What if his cat murders my owl??

-why are the Weasleys allowed to bring a rat?

-why is no one talking about how Peter Pettigrew was literally sleeping in the same bed as an eleven-year-old boy as a rat??

-the owls are in little cages??

-the fact that students get to turn their animals into objects should count as animal abuse

-why are there so many cats but not a single litter box?

-did the other cats try to get with McGonaggal??

-why did the school allow the Ministry to literally slaughter Buckbeak on school property?

-there was a cell at the ready for Sirius at Hogwarts and they talk about dungeons under the school? Why? it’s a school for children

-has a student ever walked in on McGonaggal while she was licking her own butthole?

-did she take part in the cats movie? And was she part of the butthole cut??

-am I allowed to bring Mr Mistoffelees, a magical cat, to school with me?

-the fact that Madame Hooch left all the kids alone with their brooms to take care of Neville

-how can a giant squid survive in a literal lake?

-were they planning on basically executing Sirius on school grounds?

-do they have a police force that takes care of minor crimes like shoplifting?

-do they have wheelchair ramps at Hogwarts? Do people get to bring their seeing-eye dog

-the long staircases to the towers

-why is the Slytherin house literally underground? Like no sunlight?

-Having houses only encourages bullying

-can I get a normal job or university place with my Hogwarts degree?

#i know some of therse may be explained on pottermore but i don't care #long post #original post #rant #harry potter #harry potter and the philosophers stone #harry potter and the chamber of secrets #harry potter and the order of the phoenix #harry potter and the goblet of fire #harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban #Albus Dumbledore #ron weasley #sirius black #remus lupin

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acreativeme · 6 years ago

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Hidaya’s Approval

Zane Hijazi x Reader

Y/N and Zane had been dating for 6 months before he took her down to Florida to visit his family. Zane met Y/N while out on a hike with Jeff and Todd. She was running with her pit bull, Bucky, and german shepard, Rosco. She had stopped at this pet watering fountain to give the boys a break. She had happened to be bending down to fix her shoe lace, when Rosco’s leash slipped out of her hand and he took off towards the three guys.

“Rosco! Come back!” She yelled, shooting off after him. Bucky barking, happily running after his brother.

Rosco tackled a bleached haired bearded man,licking his face. The other two boys in the group froze, probably thinking that the dog might turn on them. Y/N tripped, running and bending down to grab the leash.

She landed next to him, which caused Rosco and Bucky to jump on her. They started licking her, almost getting their tongues in her mouth. “Guys! Sit!” Her voice was loud and strong. Surprising all three of the boys, the two strong-willed dogs jumped back and sat down. Y/N stood up with her hands on her hips, “what have I told you boys about running away from me?!”

Both dogs looked off to the side, whining a little bit. Y/N rolled her eyes and turned to the three guys behind her. “I am so sorry! Rosco is friendly and has had all his shots, I promise.”

The blonde haired man smiled at her. “It’s okay. I’m fine. I was just taken by surprise by the slubber attack.”

Y/N giggled, brushing her hair back. “That’s funny. I’m Y/N.” She held out her hand for him to shake.

He gripped her hand and grinned at her. “I’m Zane. This is Jeff and Todd.”

She smiled at them, but returned her focus to Zane. “Nice to meet you.”

They exchanged numbers and haven’t gone a day without speaking since. Y/N had fit into the group right away, bonding with Erin and Carly the most. The group loved that she wasn’t an influencer or apart of social media crowd. They were honored to know someone that actually saved people for a living. To honor her privacy and preserve her job, they only put her in clean vlogs or just kept her out of them all together. She liked doing videos with Carly and Erin, because they didn’t go overboard and kept things simple.

After getting the approval of his friends, it was finally time to get the approval of the other important woman in Zane’s life. Hidaya. It was actually Y/N’s idea to go visit his family and meet his little sister. Zane was hesitant at first, but once he saw that they were talking via DM on twitter and that they got along, he gave in.

Now they were on the plane, Y/N gripping his hand tightly. Y/N was well aware of his fear of flying, so she had made a playlist of songs that reminded her of him. She use the Airpods that David bought her for her birthday last week and the regular headphones that came with her phone to listen to it. Zane was leaning back in his seat, gripping her hand and mouthing the words to They Don’t Know About Us by One Direction. Y/N giggled as she noticed that he didn’t miss a single word of the song. She squeezed his hand, closing her eyes to get some shut eye before reaching Florida.

~A long flight later~

Zane grabbed both his and Y/N’s bag from baggage claim, turning around to see her snap a picture of him and giggle. He frowned.

“What are you doing, darling?” He asked, setting the bags down in front of her.

She looked up from her phone and smirked. “Nothin’.” She quickly hit send, so that he couldn’t see what she was doing.

He clicked his tongue. “Uh huh! You liar. I can’t believe I am dating a liar. How am I supposed to introduce a liar to my innocent little sister?”

Y/N rolled her eyes and laughed. “We both Hidaya is only innocent when it comes to dating and even that is up for debate.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “I’m gonna find out what ya sent.”

She pushed him away and grabbed her suitcase. “Let’s go. Your mom is waiting for us.”

“How do you know that?!” He asks, following after her.

“Oh. We talk. Even exchanged a few recipes, you didn’t know?” She teased looking over her shoulder.

“I adore you.”

~A long car ride later~

Y/N’s eyes were trained on the window as the SUV drove through Zane’s hometown. Their fingers were interlocked, as he chatted with his mom and stepdad.

“So, how’s work Y/N?” Zane’s mom asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

Zane nugged her. “Huh?” She blushed.

Smiling at her, Zane’s mom repeated her question. “How’s work?”

“Oh

! It’s good. We had one of our toddler patients go into remission. I had a crying fest with the parents after the doctor left, it was exciting.”

Zane’s mom stared at Y/N with pure pride in her eyes. “That is wonderful news.” Hitting her turn signal, she looked over at Zane. “You know, I love that you found such a kind and compassionate woman.”

Y/N’s blush became deeper. Zane smiled at her. “Thanks, mom.”

~Ten Minutes Later~

Waving goodbye, Zane and Y/N drug their bags up the walkway towards his father’s place. Zane was about to knock on the door, when it burst open and Hidaya flew out. She launched herself into Y/N’s arms, causing her to drop her bags.

Laughing loudly, Y/N wrapped her arms around the younger Hijazi. “Hiya, Hidaya.”

Hidaya pulled away from her, grinning like a mad man. “I can’t believe you are here, Y/N! I thought dumbo was never going to bring you to visit.”

Zane looked between the two girls. “How do ya guys know each other so well?”

The girls looked at each other and grinned. “Twitter, duh!”

#vlog squad imagines #zane hijazi #jeff wittek #todd smith #hidaya hijazi #fluff #the vlog squad imagines #imagines #one-shots

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weartirondad · 6 years ago

Photo

A/N: We did a thing for @parkrstark ‘s appreciation day. You are amazing and we’re sending all our love! xx

This is inspired by Chöre by Mark Forster (a German song, most translations suck but try this one)

Even superheroes need someone to fight for them sometimes. ao3 I FF.net

I’ll Love You (When You Can’t Love Yourself)

“Mister Parker seems to in distress, boss. His vitals suggest that he has been getting steadily more agitated over the past ten minutes.”

“Wha- Ah- Fuck”, Tony cursed when he hit his head on the underbody of the car as he tried to crunch up before the roller board was completely out from underneath his 1949 Mercury Coupe. The car didn’t seem to mind in the slightest, which didn’t surprise him, but even his AI simply kept talking as if he hadn’t just almost split his nose open again.

“His heartrate has been well over 120 beats per minute for the past five minutes. His blood pressure is significantly elevated at 170 to 100.”

He was already halfway to the nearest suit when he realized he wasn’t even sure where Peter would be. What time was it anyway? Was school over already? Was it even a school day? Good thing his AI seemed to have psychic abilities where she was lacking basic human empathy and told him before he had to ask.

“The tracker that you installed in his watch suggests he’s still in school. Though according to his time table his last lesson ended fifteen minutes ago.”

“Is- Is he involved in a fight at school?”, Tony wanted to know, halting his movements with his hand still stretched out and with half of his armor already attached to his body. Did Peter get into fights at school? Was that bully giving him trouble again? He thought they had handled the Flash issue weeks ago... Then again, Peter was really determined about keeping him in the dark about important things like his wellbeing.

“I don’t think so, boss”, F.R.I.D.A.Y. unhelpfully supplied, “There doesn’t seem to be an imminent threat.”

“Oh-kay”, he turned around, dropping his arms to his side, thinking, “Tap into the voice recording of the watch, F.R.I.”

“I think that would be a violation of the privacy setting you have discussed with Mister Parker.”

“Well, the kid would feel a lot more violated if Ironman were to show up at his school without reason. God that sounded wrong. Just do what you’re told. He can have privacy when I’m dead.”

“Very well, boss.”

Not a second later the slightly metallic version of a teenager’s voice filtered through his lab and he frowned in confusion. That voice didn’t belong to either of the two nerds Peter usually hung out with and it didn’t belong to Flash. He hadn’t known that the kid talked to more than those three people. After just one sentence, however, it became clear what had caused Peter’s current distress.

“-posed internship all you want, maybe Stark Industries does a few things right but the truth is, that your dear Tony Stark’s fortune is built on blood and death. He’s not the hero he claims to be. He never stopped being the merchant of d-“

“No.”

Tony all but flinched at the kid’s cold and steady tone. Peter wasn’t ever supposed to sound so angry. He listened to the kid argue, still unsure whether or not to deploy the suit right away or to get rid of the armor again.

“You have no idea what he’s doing to keep all of us save. He flew a nuke into a wormhole, that our government sent, knowing it would essentially obliterate all of Midtown. He didn’t know if he would make it out alive. He sacrificed himself for all of us. And he did so without hesitation or thoughts to his own wellbeing. Don’t you dare call the person who saved your fucking life the merchant of death.”

That was also the first time that Tony had ever heard Peter curse but he let it slide in favor of concentrating on the jagged breathing coming through the speakers, worried the teenager would start hyperventilating and eventually pass out.

The other boy scoffed and the billionaire could do nothing but watch the red numbers, that were telling his kid’s blood pressure, continue to rise. And his mind was still battling about what to do. Was this really an argument that Ironman should interrupt? Where the hell was Ned anyway?

“Oh yeah, maybe he did that out of the goodness of his heart. Or maybe because he was still feeling guilty. And what about Sokovia? What about all the people that died so your supposed superheroes could have a little party? What about your dear Tony Stark’s Ultron? What about that German airport they destroyed because they couldn’t get their heads out of their asses? He somehow even got Spiderman to fight on his side. That guy would be better off without ties to Ironman. People actually-“

“Shut up!”, Peter yelled and the sound made Tony’s stomach curl in hatred for the person who had elicited such a furious response from the usually calm and happy kid. “You have no idea what you are talking about! He was fighting to keep us safe from their flaws. They’re heroes, they’re not perfect. He was one of the ones who actually signed the Accords, no matter how much they needed amending, because he believes that superheroes need to be held accountable, too. And Spiderman- Spiderman wouldn’t even be alive without Tony Stark you, you-“

Before Peter could actually find an insult to throw at the other’s head, another familiar voice sounded through the speakers in Tony’s lab and he thanked the gods for Peter’s best friend finally making his entry.

“Hey Peter”, Ned called, either oblivious to the tension that was palpable even through audio or actively choosing to ignore it, “Your ride is outside and he’s getting annoyed at the delay. Sorry, Matt, we gotta go.”

A short pause in which all Tony could hear was the metallic scratching and shuffling of fabric and then hushed voices. “Come on, dude. Let’s get outta here.”

Peter seemed to follow Ned’s lead because he heard slow footsteps echoing through a wide room. And thankfully the kid’s heart rate was slowly returning to normal. Even his blood pressure had gone down to 140 to 90 since Ned had gotten there and for the first time since getting the distress signal, Tony felt his own heartbeat calm down, too, and he let out a breath.

He logged out of the watch’s audio once Ned had successfully calmed Peter down and had dropped him off with Happy and he was sure they were both on their way to the Tower.

Suddenly he felt more tired and older than ever before, well, at least ever since almost dying. He couldn’t wrap his head around someone as pure and good as Peter defending him of all people. He had never seen himself as anything other than a major fuck up and he had credited the fact that Pepper, Rhodey and Happy had kept around at all, to them all having to atone for some thing or another they had done in a previous life. There was no way they were sticking around for anything else. No way could someone, who wasn’t as thoroughly fucked up as he was himself, ever even consider loving him.

And still here they were. With Peter wanting to hang out with him, wanting to be mentored by him and defending him in front of people in his school when he was already being bullied.

His heart felt too full and he couldn’t help but feel the weight of the trust the kid had in him, press down on his torso, suffocating him. It was all too much. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t figure out how to be this person that Peter saw in him and he couldn’t bear to disappoint him again. Not him.

Fuck. No. Not a panic attack. Not now. Nonononono.

Without his command, the part of the suit he was still wearing started flying him to the nearby couch, depositing him on it before slipping off of his body so he could curl into himself.

In. 3, 2, 1. Out. 3, 2, 1. In. 3, 2…

He managed to pull himself back from the edge, something he had gotten a lot better at recently, especially when the Spiderling was about to show is face. He was refusing to let the kid see him spiraling into a full blown panic attack. So far his thick head had gotten him farther than his improving mental health, though he suspected it did play a part.

Instead of going back to working on his car, he pulled up the Iron Spider Suit and started working on a few minor improvements and new safe keeping protocols – something that never failed to calm him down – and that was how he occupied himself until Peter got there. Trying not to think of how easy it would be for him to break something so precious that he deserved no part in.

He wouldn’t.

Not quite twenty minutes later the doors to his lab slid open and Tony felt the new presence in the room more than he actually heard the soft footsteps on the floor. He didn’t turn around and for a while Peter didn’t speak up either, simply plopping down on the couch Tony had occupied earlier and watching his mentor work in silence.

Then, really quietly, barely enough to reach the mechanic’s ears hadn’t he been waiting for the words, he heard, “Why do you do this? Why don’t you tell the world what you do to keep them safe every day? Why do you let them believe that you’re not really a hero?”

Tony almost choked on his own spit. So many replies were running through his mind then and he couldn’t bring himself to voice any of them because he didn’t have the heart to tell this kid, his kid, that he didn’t believe it himself. Instead he made up some bullshit excuse about people not needing to know and about them being better off not knowing but of course that wasn’t enough to convince Peter. He had the uncanny ability to see through his crap from still a mile out and he was currently not even five feet away.

The teenager was watching him with knowing eyes. Eyes that went right through his superficial Tony Stark persona and into his soul, dissecting every inch of it without judging. He hated being so see through to people, he hated that apart from his friends who had dealt with him for years, this boy had managed to walk past all his walls and really see him. He adverted his eyes, busying his shaky hands with some (useless) reprogramming of the suit.

Still, he didn’t turn his body away and that seemed to be all the incentive Peter needed to walk up to him and rest a hand on Tony’s shoulder. Of course he had picked up on Tony not being too fond of being touched and tried to avoid it especially when he knew Tony was on edge.

Although, that wasn’t entirely true. A fact he had only started to realize himself – Peter’s touch was okay. It would always be okay.

“You know you’re a hero, right?”

The kid’s voice sounded so self- assured and certain where it was usually rambling and timid, that he had to look up to meet his eyes. He said it like there was nothing that could convince him otherwise, and maybe there wasn’t, because he was stubborn, too.

Meeting the warm brown eyes of his mentee had been a mistake, though, because at seeing the unconditional loyalty (And love? Was that love?) in them, he felt the tears that had been threatening to spill ever since listening to him defending his honor actually fill his eyes and had to blink them away in favor of being able to see Peter’s face.

Also, he refused to cry in front of the teenager.

He didn’t deserve the look he was getting but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. Something in him wanted to make him see that he was not the man Peter believed him to be but as much as he believed it himself – he couldn’t, for the love of it, bring himself to dim the hope and trust in the kid’s eyes with his own self-loathing. He refused to be responsible for Peter ever having to see more darkness in the world than he absolutely had to. And even that he would fight tooth and nail.

Instead he stayed quiet, silently enjoying that the teenager didn’t move away but after a moment it felt as if their moment was over and before it could get weird, he started to turn back to his work. The small hand on his shoulder with the strong grip wouldn’t let him, though.

The billionaire didn’t tell him how the touch grounded him, just raised an questioning eyebrow and that seemed to embarrass the kid, making him get flustered but never actually releasing his grip or loosening the strength he still projected with his eyes. Right now he was being strong for both of them and he seemed to realize it.

Tony hated that he had to.

“You’re my hero”, Peter told him quietly, unwavering even as his cheeks were turning pink, “Not just because of Ironman but because of you. Tony Stark – genius, inventor, mentor – is my hero. You are a hero.”

The repetition sounded like a mantra and maybe it was and it was all Tony could do to stare up at him, still not quiet believing. Some 15 year old kid’s words couldn’t erase everything Tony had been told to believe his entire life but they were a start because he could already feel part of the armor around his heart melt.

It was obvious that Peter thought their moment was over then, that he was close to stepping over an undrawn line, so he started his usual nervous word vomit to, metaphorically, take a step back. “And uh. I know you’re not into hugs and... uh.. touching in general but I really wanted you to know that and I’m just- I’m gonna go n-“

The grip on his shoulder tightened shortly, then the hand lifted but before Peter could stumble backwards (and right into Dum-E) Tony’s Hand shot out, holding the boy back. And then he was standing (he didn’t remember giving his body the signal) and, after just a millisecond of hesitation, he pulled the kid into a hug.

It felt awkward at first, both their bodies surprised and rigid next to each other, and he wanted to slap himself and pull away immediately, thinking that this was a mistake. But when Peter’s arm snaked around his waist tentatively and the boy’s body started relaxing against his own, he could feel, with every fiber of his being that he had wanted that hug since forever but had been afraid to ask.

He should’ve known. Peter was big on touching but he would never try to pressure because Tony was known for being really big on not touching.

After a moment, Tony relaxed, too, and tightened his arms around this kid who had somehow managed to waltz past all the barriers and walls he had so painstakingly erected.

“Thank you, Underoos”, he said in his ear before he pulled away, “That means a lot to me.”

He had wanted to give a sarcastic retort of some sort but felt it get stuck in his throat somewhere on the way and he was glad because the smile he got in return was the brightest he had ever seen and he knew without a doubt that his answering smile was just as open and that this kid was one of maybe three people he let see that smile, his real one.

Tony coughed slightly, all the emotion suddenly getting stuck in his throat, and patted Peter’s back, “Let me show you the new feature I’m working on for Karen.”

It was like a switch had been turned in the kid when he started talking about everything and nothing all at once. Years – hell even months ago – Tony would’ve threatened anyone who dared to disrupt the silence in his lab with rambling but here he was, enjoying whatever the kid had to say just because he liked listening and knowing what was going on it his brain.

Tony turned back around to the screen, knowing that Peter would follow suit, and started working again. Without looking up again he said “Oh, and Peter? Don’t get into fights because of me, will you?”

“What’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

Peter barely had the energy to look up to see his aunt standing in the living room with her arms crossed. “Uh- oh. Hey Aunt May, didn’t know you’d be home already.” He trailed off with a deep sigh and went back to staring straight ahead at the dark TV screen.

A moment passed and he would’ve thought she had gone to her room to change into something more comfy like she usually did, hadn’t he been so acutely aware of her presence – her heartbeat and breathing pattern so uncannily familiar that it immediately calmed him down. He knew he worried her by sitting on the couch without moving a muscle, still in his Spidersuit minus the mask, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

Another sigh, May’s this time, and he heard her drop her bag before starting to move towards him, her already soft footsteps muffled by the carpet. He still didn’t move but when she sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders he felt his muscles start to relax and he allowed her to pull his head onto her shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He shrugged even though he could already hear his aunt rolling her eyes at his ‘grumpy teenager antics’ as she liked to call them.

“Okay, let me rephrase that”, she said, her arm tightening around his body, pulling him a little closer still, “Are you physically hurt because of your superheroeing beyond something I can fix with my first aid kit?”

“No, Aunt May”, he answered truthfully, turning his head until his face was buried in the crook of her neck, “I’m fine.” His voice came out muffled but even he realized that he didn’t look or sound fine right now.

“Good.” She pressed a kiss to the top of his head like she had done ever since he was a little child and he felt tears spring to his eyes at the comfort it provided. “Emotionally hurt then?”

He shrugged. She sighed.

“Teenager angst? Did something happen at school?”

He shook his head but stopped once her hand came up to the base of his neck, rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

“Superhero angst?” Shrug. Sigh.

“Do you want me to call Tony?” He shook his head, then changed it to a shrug.

At this point he knew she was humoring him despite being actually concerned. It was part of their routine. It was what they had always done when he needed to talk but didn’t really know how to go about it. May, in her eternally patient way, simply asked him yes-no questions until the dam burst and he spilled whatever was weighing him down. The familiarity of it all made the corners of his lips turn up slightly.

“Is it about Tony? Do I need to have words with him?” Now she sounded protective and Peter loved her even more for her readiness to go toe to toe with a billionaire superhero just because he might’ve hurt his feelings.

“No”, he let out a deep breath and turned his head until he was facing forward again, while never moving out of his aunt’s embrace, “He didn’t really do anything. It’s just- He doesn’t- Ugh.”

“Sort your thoughts, Pete”, she told him gently, “Then tell me.”

The teenager nodded and for a bit he simply enjoyed the feeling of her fingers carding through his curls, trying to make sense of everything he had been feeling ever since he had gotten home. He had been so caught up in his feelings that he hadn’t really tried to wrap his head around it so far, he had simply let himself get stuck in the emotional component of it all.

“I told you how today was this meeting with the rogue Avengers and Secretary Ross about amending the Accords, right?” It was a rhetorical question – they had had a very long, very emotional conversation about why Spiderman had to partake in that meeting in the first place – but his aunt nodded anyway, though she seemed a little tense, prompting him to keep going.

“It went okay, I think.” It really had gone good. Better than Tony had expected it to which, considering his fatalistic attitude at times, wasn’t all that surprising, but not even Colonel Rhodes had believed it to go so smoothly. “There was a lot of talking, not much screaming. It was a very grown up conversation, you would’ve liked it. There are going to be a few more follow-up meetings until it’s all finalized but the cornerstones are already mapped out. So, the meeting ended with scheduling another meeting.”

“But that’s a good thing, right? Why are you so upset about it?”

Peter lifted his head from his aunt’s shoulder then and leaned away to really meet her eyes for the first time that evening. “They scheduled the next meeting for next Thursday.” Pause. “That’s May 29.”

He watched the confused frown slowly morph into understanding first and then she smiled at him, ruffling his hair again.

“He won’t be busy with the meeting all day, though, right? He’ll still have time to celebrate his birthday.”

“You know what he told me, when I asked him why he didn’t veto that date?”, he wanted to know, suddenly feeling his suppressed anger and smoldering discontent flare up in his chest bright and red. “He told me that ‘getting the world its heroes back is a lot more important than some birthday’”, he recounted, his voice laced with mock when he imitated his mentor, “especially his. And I feel like he doesn’t even realize that he is a hero, too! You know, he goes on and on about how America needs its Captain back when Captain America was the one who left him hurting alone in effing Siberia. He doesn’t care about what getting them pardoned means for him! He doesn’t care that he’ll be miserable once they’ve been put under his care and supervision. He’s going to have to see them every day, May! And he flinches whenever Steve Rogers just moves too fast. Yet whenever I try to tell him that he’s a hero, too, he deflects and I hate it. I hate how lowly he thinks of himself. I mean that’s my hero he’s badmouthing and he doesn’t even realize it. He- It makes me so angry!”

“Sorry”, Peter added, breathing heavily after his outburst. He hadn’t meant for it all to come out like that, he hadn’t meant to put all that on May’s shoulders because she had enough to worry about as it was. Hell, he hadn’t meant to get so angry at Tony, he hated being angry. But he couldn’t stop it. It was wired deep into his soul that he had to protect the people he cared about. He just hadn’t ever had to protect someone from themselves.

It wasn’t that he was a stranger to self- doubt. No, he’d been different all his life and he knew exactly what it felt like to feel out of place and unworthy and just plain wrong but he had always had May and Ben telling him off for thinking like that and he’d had Ned in his corner who was different, too, and who helped him embrace it. They never let him talk down on himself. There had always been someone there to catch him when his doubts pushed him over the edge.

In his eyes, Tony Stark was just what this world needed, what he needed. With all his imperfections and the mistakes he had made and continued to make, he never gave up and never stopped caring about random teenage kids he found swinging through Queens, even though the world had told him off far too often.

“It’s okay, baby”, May whispered, giving him exactly the right amount of time to wallow in his thoughts before pulling him back up, “Sometimes it’s hard to see all the good you’re doing when everyone only ever shows you where you messed up. And it’s a hard habit to break someone out of. But Tony’s strong, too, and he’s got a lot of people in his corner. We all just need to keep telling him every once in a while.”

“I guess”, he sighed in agreement, suddenly feeling worn out now that his anger had run dry, “It’s very infuriating, though.”

“It is”, she nodded and opened up her arms for him to fall into which he did, enjoying how every hug felt like coming home. “But you’re pretty stubborn, I think if someone will get through his thick skull it’s gonna be you.”

Peter grinned, feeling lighter than he had ever since that meeting. “You bet. And I’m getting him to shift that meeting around. I don’t care if the other Avengers had some surprise birthday gift planned. I’m not letting him spend his birthday with people who hurt him. Not on my watch.”

“You’re invited to my surprise birthday party, too, I take it?”, Tony greeted May as she stepped out of the elevator. She didn’t even seem too shocked at the revelation that her nephew had effectively messed up the only thing making a surprise birthday party a surprise – not telling the person in question.

“You don’t have too many friends, Stark”, she gave back without missing a beat, though the playful twinkle in her eyes gave away that she was joking, “I’d be nice to the ones who actually like you.”

“So you do like me?”, he grinned, accepting her half hug graciously, “Now I’ll finally be able to sleep through the night again.”

May pulled back, now openly laughing, and found the billionaire looking equally relaxed. “You’re looking good”, she told him seriously as she took in his faded blue jeans and plain black t-shirt. He was in socks and the only accessory he was wearing was a leather bracelet with an engraved spider she knew Peter had gotten him as an alibi birthday present. There were no sunglasses hiding his eyes and no watch with built-in kill switch. Right now he wasn’t Ironman and he wasn’t even Tony Stark.

He was just Tony. Pepper’s fiancée, Rhodey’s and Happy’s best friend, Peter’s sorta-dad and her sorta- co-parent partner.

It had taken her a while to separate Tony from the masks he usually put on for the world to see but it had been worth it. She could see why his friends had stuck around for so long and why Peter had kept insisting that he was ‘one of the good guys’, why he kept looking up to the man even when he screwed up.

“Don’t tell Pep, she gets jealous.”

The smirk he shot her would’ve riled her up only a few months ago but she’s seen him with Pepper often enough to know that there was no way he would ever be unfaithful to her. He was like a lost puppy without her and he was smart enough to keep the only woman who could handle him and continuously challenged him. He didn’t even seem to realize that it worked the other way around, too, for Pepper.

“Why are you up here anyway? I thought you were all meeting downstairs to get the whole surprising going.”

May nodded, “But someone’s gotta get you to go downstairs without telling you what we’re doing, don’t we?”

“Yes, because you’ve all done such a good work keeping this party a secret from me”, Tony shook his head with a bemused smile, “What did you do to get singled out like that?”

There was that low key self- deprecating that had prompted Peter to throw the whole party in the first place but May took it in stride, knowing enough about Tony to know how to talk to him when he tried to talk down on himself. Honesty usually worked best because he never seemed to expect it.

“I volunteered”, she told him with a shrug, “Peter wanted to but we didn’t think he could get a single word out without spilling the beans and we wanted to give you the chance to act all surprised to make him happy.”

“That’s very thoughtful of-“

“Besides”, she interrupted him, watching his face closely for his reaction, “I wanted to give you your present before you meet the others so you can get those tears out of the way and don’t have to pretend you’re not crying.”

His expression was priceless, May decided, and it was a shame she didn’t get it on camera. She enjoyed every second of his micro expressions, though. How his mouth fell open, actually surprised, and he looked like he was about to protest the accusation once he had gotten over the initial shock before he decided to instead mock her, the skin around his eyes already crinkling before the – undoubtedly sarcastic – words could leave his mouth. Before he had formed a sentence, though, May pulled out his present and continued to watch.

He frowned in confusion when he took the book from her that had a small spider and two bigger ones on the cover. She had personalized the two adult spiders – one was wearing her glasses and the other had an arch reactor on its body. The little spider was ambitiously climbing up the water spout while the two bigger ones stood on the ground, looking up at the little one in concern and/ or fascination (it wasn’t that easy to interpret feelings into minimalistic drawn spiders). They looked eager to catch their little one when it would undoubtedly be washed out again.

Next to the drawing the nursery rhyme was written in artful calligraphy and after a stunned moment it was that detail that Tony decided to comment on.

“Itsy Bitsy Spider? Really?”, he asked amused, “I’m starting to think that your family has a very unhealthy obsession with arachnids.”

She ignored him and instead gestured to the book, “Open it. We’ve only got twenty minutes until we’ll be expected downstairs.”

The first page of the photo album was a picture of Peter, May and Tony at Peter’s last Science Fair. He was posing proudly with his cheap plastic trophy while May and Tony stood to either side of him, sharing a grin over the top of his head.

He met her eyes then and she had never seen him as uncertain and insecure as he was looking now. His gaze screamed Are you sure? at the same time as it begged Don’t take it away. Frankly, it broke her heart but it also made her proud that he was letting his walls down so completely with her, that he trusted her so much.

She poked him in the side, an invitation to keep going, and watched him flip to the second page, her eyes filling with tears as her own gaze fell on the slightly faded pictures of toddler Peter with his parents and slightly newer ones with Ben.

Tony didn’t say a word as he continued to go through the book, pausing ever so often on pictures of Peter he hadn’t seen before, but she watched him the whole time and she saw the two lone tears that trailed down his cheeks until they got lost in his goatee. He didn’t even seem to realize, too captured by the pictures she had chosen.

There were pictures of Peter on his own, dressed up, doing stunts, just grinning stupidly at the camera or caught off guard. There were pictures of him with his parents and with Ben and her – happy memories that had taken her a long time to revisit. Then came a time when there weren’t many pictures of him at all and were his smile seemed a little off.

Towards the end the images had him laughing more and his eyes shining brighter again. There were new pictures, just with May this time, and then came the first picture with Tony. It was a screenshot of the video message Peter had sent her from his ‘internship retreat’ in which Tony looked at Peter while the teenager grinned into the camera, obviously over the moon.

“May- I can’t-“

She shushed him and turned to the next page for him when his hand was shaking too much to grab the paper.

More pictures of Tony and Peter. Some in the lab, some in the park, some in a greasy diner or at Delmar’s. There were some with May and with Pepper and with Happy and Rhodey. In everyone, Peter was the center of everyone’s attention and his smile shone through the pages, making her smile through her own tears.

On the last page was a picture of Peter from just this week. He was in his Spiderman suit, the mask lying forgotten on the chair behind him, and he seemed oblivious to the picture being taken. He was on a video call with Ned and was hanging from the ladder of his bunk bed with only one arm and leg. The other arm held an Ironman figurine he was flying through the air, mouth open because he seemed to be commenting his adventures.

Underneath it, written in May’s chicken scratch – though she had tried her best – was a tiny paragraph.

Dear Tony,

you never had to step up like you did but thank you for doing it anyway. Thank you for encouraging him, and for chastising him when it’s called for. Thank you for being a dad and a hero to our boy.

You’re family.

May

She read her own writing over his shoulder and had to swallow past the lump in her throat once more. This was big. For both of them. It wasn’t that she was scared he would run because he’d had so many chances to run and had decided to stick around but still, she was nervously waiting for his reaction.

It took him a moment to fall out of his stupor but when he did, she was surprised that he hugged her. Not the half hug they had compromised on for greetings but a fully body hug, in which he held on to her like a life line.

“Thank you”, she heard his hoarse voice whisper again and again and again. “Thank you for letting me be a part of your family. Thank you for this. Thank you for everything, May. You’re one of the strongest women I know to have raised such a wonderful boy.”

For a while they stayed like that, wrapped around each other, until their tears had dried up and their voices weren’t as shaky anymore.

“I’d say it was a good call to give it to you up here, don’t you think?”, she joked once she got her bearings back.

“You’re a very smart woman, May Parker”, he gave back, finding his way back to his usual snarky self. “Shall we?”

“It is my distinct pleasure.”

They sauntered towards the elevator in companionable silence, hands brushing against each other as they walked as it happened with two people close to and comfortable with each other. The photo album had gone back into hiding in May’s bag but it felt lighter now that it had been put out there, like a subconscious weight she had carried with her until she had seen the honest tears and bright smile.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. didn’t need to be told where to go and so they started their descent without a word until suddenly Tony’s voice interrupted the silence.

“F.R.I. stop the elevator.”

“Wh- Tony?”, May asked, her heart beating faster in her chest when she saw the scared look in the billionaire’s eyes, “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, a fist coming up to press against his chest. His breathing was accelerating and she reached out on instinct when he stumbled forward a few steps in the tight space.

“I- I can’t do that”, he managed to get out through clenched teeth and suddenly his eyes were open again, looking wildly around the elevator until they settled on her, widening with panic.

A panic attack. Oh no.

“Relax”, she whispered, immediately going into mum-mode as Peter called it, and pulled him to the ground with her. “Breathe, Tony. It’s okay. You’re okay. We’ve got all these amazing people there to see you. We’re all with you. You’re safe.”

Tony shook his head though, fighting through his jagged breathing until he could get the words out. “I can’t- I’m not a parent, May. I’m not. I’m a mess. I-“, his voice broke and he tried to blink the tears away that threatened to take his sight, “A parent should be the one encouraging, helping. He- He shouldn’t have to throw me a party to tell me I’m alright. I shouldn’t be such a fucking mess. I can’t- I can’t, May. I can’t ruin him. Please. Please don’t let me.”

Her body worked on instinct again when she pulled his head into the crook of her neck, her hands finding his hair and soothingly carding through it like she would do for Peter.

“We’re all a mess sometimes, Tony”, she whispered, “Parents are allowed to be messes. God, you should’ve seen me after Ben’s death...”, she trailed off, voice breaking, “And I’m still here and so is Peter. We’ll get through anything, together, that’s what families do, right? You’re not going to mess him up. Just... just let him do this for you, try to listen to the people who love you more than to the ones who don’t. You can do that, right? Ignoring assholes is one of your specialties. Just ignore yourself sometimes.”

That actually earned her a wet laugh and she smiled into his hair when his arm snaked around her waist, stroking her back ever so slightly. Only then did she realize that she was crying, too.

“See, we’re all messes.” She sniveled. “Parenting is supposed to make you a mess and it’s supposed to scare you that you could mess your kid up. But you’re supposed to say ‘Screw you, doubt!’ and do it anyway. Because you’re a parent now. Parents are the strongest superheroes the world has ever seen. Nothing can come against us when it’s about our kid.”

“Sometimes part of our job is to let our kid reassure us, too. Sometimes he needs it as much as we do”, she added after a moment of silence that was only interrupted by both their heavy breathings, “This is not a one sided relationship. You get back, too, on occasions. You can’t and shouldn’t take their gratitude for granted but you should accept it when it comes.”

Tony nodded finally and pulled back, leaning back against the wall of the elevator, just as May did the same opposite of him. “Think we can get away with ten more minutes before we go in?”, he asked quietly, wiping at his eyes, and May nodded because there was no way she would go anywhere looking like this.

“Yeah, I mean they won’t start the party without their guest of honor.”

“SURPRISE!”

The doors to the elevator hadn’t even fully opened yet when he was met with the eardrum piercing yell from way up high on the ceiling and before Tony had the chance to blink, Peter was already sailing down and with him confetti started falling down from all over the place. As soon as the Spiderling had landed, he started singing – loudly, confidently and horribly off-key – and a heartbeat later everyone else had joined in, too.

Happy and Rhodey were standing in front of a huge “Happy Birthday Mr. Dad, uh, Tony” banner, grinning from ear to ear not even bothered by the purple party hats they were wearing that were complimenting their purple bowties. Each of them held a confetti gun in their hands, aimed directly at him.

Pepper stood a little to the side, rocking a dark blue glittery hat, with a champagne flute in her hand that he was about 97 percent sure was filled with apple juice. She was singing, too, almost as badly off-key as the kid and at least as happy about it, too.

When he turned around, he found that May had pulled out a green party hat, too and had joined the awful singing band, winking at him when his wide eyes met hers.

Tony had had a plan. Of course he had. He always needed plans for everything. And he needed plans in place should his plans fail. He needed so many fail saves that sometimes he ran out of letters in the alphabet to name them. Even though this had been supposed to be a surprise party, he had planned exactly how he wanted to act surprised and, as it usually happened, his plan flew right out of the window when he couldn’t even see through the thick confetti shower.

He squinted at his friends – his family – once the song had finished and was about to say something when both Happy and Rhodey made use of their weapons and added some more color to his already color-improved former black shirt. They caught him mid motion and he had to spit out a mouthful of confetti before he could start to chastise them.

“Mr. Stark! Happy birthday!”

Suddenly he remembered why this was supposed to be a happy moment – why he was supposed to be thrilled about being drowned in shards of colorful, glittery paper – just as Peter’s arms wrapped around him in the most physical hug they had shared as of yet. He let his body melt into the embrace and his hands found his curls of their own accord. The answering beam was worth the knowing smiles his friends shot him.

“Mr.Stark”, Peter giggled, still peering up at him, “You’ve got some confetti stuck in your frown.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault is that?”, he shot back with a smile even as he let Peter pick the offending piece of pink paper from his forehead.

“It’s kind of your fault for frowning on your birthday”, the Spiderling retorted and took a step back then.

He seemed a lot more self-conscious now that the adrenalin was wearing off and he was fidgeting with the sleeves of his hoodie until Tony’s hand covered his and he shot him a reassuring smile.

“You want me to throw the gang out for our heart to heart or-“

“No, no it’s fine”, Peter straightened up and finally met his eyes again, “They know why we’re here anyway. The only one who doesn’t get it yet is you. So I’m gonna need their support for this. You have to promise not to interrupt or disagree, though.”

The billionaire blinked at the teenager incomprehensively for half a minute before nodding. “Seems a little unfair seeing as this is my birthday but fine.”

“O-okay, so”, Peter started with a slight stutter before squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, “The Cambridge dictionary defines a superhero as someone who has-“

“Wait!”, Tony interrupted, hand raised to stop the kid from talking, he imagined his eyes had to be comically wide but he couldn’t help but stare, “Did you actually prepare a speech? Like you wrote it down and practiced it and-“

“Mr. Stark!”, the teenager whined, glaring at him, “You couldn’t keep your promise for, what? A total of five seconds?”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just, uh”, the billionaire looked around the room and, finding no support from his friends, “I’m just gonna take a seat right… uh, right here”, he finished a little lamely as he dropped down to the ground cross-legged, watching in amusement when all the adults followed his example until Peter was the only one standing. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down as well, situating himself opposite of Tony, his gaze open and earnest.

“As I was saying, The Cambridge dictionary defines a superhero as someone who has a special strength and uses it to do good things and help other people, as well as someone who has done something very brave to help someone else.”

Tony had to physically restrain his hands by sitting on them to not start fidgeting right away. He was also biting down on his lip so he wouldn’t interrupt the speech again, no matter how much every fiber of his being wanted to protest.

“I know you don’t think you have a special strength”, Peter continued, “I know you think that special strength means being physically strong or enhanced in some way or another but that’s not true. You have so many strengths that are so much more important than any of that. Some might say that your biggest strength is your brain. You’re really really smart, Mr… Tony.”

The boy smiled up shyly at him and Tony decided then and there that he would sit through actual torture again if only he kept smiling at him like that.

“I agree. Ever since I was a little kid, I looked up to you because of your intellect. I was in awe of someone who could build their own superhero suit in a cave out of nothing but scraps and determination. Uncle Ben told me that you were hurt, too, and that made you so much stronger in my eyes. You saved yourself when almost everyone had already given up on you and you didn’t need enhancement to do it, all you needed was yourself.”

I didn’t do it alone. He wanted to scream, his chest starting to ache in phantom pain when he thought back to Afghanistan and to Yinsen. But right now he had more important things to do than fall back into that hell and so he took a deep breath and tried to listen to Peter’s words. Somehow, miraculously, the kid’s voice managed to calm him down. (It really shouldn’t surprise him anymore.)

“Then when you came back, you broke with everything you thought was wrong without a thought about what it would mean for your company. You were a hero to many for that alone. And then you told the world that you are Iron Man. You were the first superhero who held himself accountable by giving away his identity.”

Tony wondered briefly, how Peter managed to overlook all of his mistakes and all the people that got hurt on his path to rediscovering himself. If it had been some other kid, he would’ve thought they simply didn’t get it but with this particular kid he knew that to be wrong. Peter was smart enough to know that the world wasn’t all black and white, he knew about Tony’s mistakes and he was a superhero himself, he knew that people got hurt sometimes. Yet here he was, calling Tony a hero.

“Iron Man is a hero”, Peter pulled him out of his thoughts again, “But Iron Man is only a hero because Tony Stark is. You’re brave and smart and selfless and those are all traits of a hero but what makes you our hero”, he glanced around the room, waving at the people sitting around them watching him, “What makes you my hero is your heart.”

“You care so much about everyone, even virtual strangers. You care about them so much that you would give your life for any one of them and you have proven that numerous times. You cared about me when you really didn’t have to.” His voice dropped a little, sounding much softer and vulnerable now when he met Tony’s eyes again.

“You put so much time and money into keeping me safe from the moment you first made me the suit. You could’ve stopped there and I would’ve been so grateful but you didn’t. You continued to protect me from my own mistakes, saving me when I screwed up and fixing the messes I made. Again, you could’ve stopped there and I wouldn’t have asked for more, because this was so much more than I expected but, again, you didn’t. You basically took me in – me, Peter Parker, not Spiderman – and you made time in your crazy schedule to hang out with me and to teach me. You never had to do that, no one would’ve expected you to. But you did it anyway because you care so much, even about some random kid from Queens who manages to get himself into trouble every other night.”

The billionaire superhero was already blinking away tears and through the veil he saw Peter doing the same thing, but he smiled through it – the love in his expression warming Tony’s heart like only Peter could. His eyes never left the kid’s. If they did, he would’ve seen that everyone was battling with their own emotions threatening to spill over.

“You never had to step up from being a fellow superhero to a mentor. You never had to step up from being a mentor to being more – to being a dad. And yet you did. That makes you the best superhero to me. And it’s okay if you won’t believe me – us - right away but we’ll just keep telling you. Because we love you.”

Tony swallowed. Tears were running down his cheeks freely now but he didn’t care enough to wipe them away.

All his life he would’ve brushed the emotional speech off, making a counterargument to every bullet point on the list just because he never had dealt well with compliments. Now, for the first time, he didn’t feel the need, though. He didn’t want to prove Peter wrong, instead he wanted to prove him right – wanted to become that man that he saw in him – and if that meant dealing with his low self-esteem and not talking back on compliments? Then he’d work his ass of getting better at those things.

So, instead of arguing, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Peter. It didn’t take the teenager more than five seconds to uncurl his legs and throw himself into the hug, making Tony almost topple over with the force. He let the tears run freely into Peter’s curls and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you, Pete”, he whispered so softly only the enhanced Spiderling could pick up the words, before looking up and waving to the others with the one arm he didn’t necessarily need to keep his kid close to his chest.

“I love all of you. Come on into the hug. This is probably the first and final time I’m offering you all a group hug.”

It wouldn’t be. They all knew that. They came forward anyway.

May hugged Peter from behind, one hand patting Tony’s shoulder. Pepper came up behind Tony to wrap her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to Peter’s hand. Happy and Rhodey gave their group hug its finishing touch by standing to either side of the bundle and acting as a cocoon around all of them.

This wouldn’t be the last time Tony couldn’t see his worth. It wouldn’t be the last time either of them doubted themselves. But that only meant the others would be there to convince them otherwise.

As a family did.

pic by @lieselfh

story by @josywbu (ao3 I FF.net)

#j&fcollab #irondad #irondad fanart #irondad fic #peter parker #tony stark #may parker #peter parker fanart #tony stark fanart #josis fic

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sweetcatmintea · 6 years ago

Text

Just another cabin in the woods WIP

I couldn’t finish this story in time but figured I’d upload what I have in the mean time. It’s not been edited and is subject to change later. With some luck, I’ll be done by next Sunday. Hope you enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

Words: 2505

Updated: 4102 (Still incomplete)

As is tradition, we start with a girl, Holly Roe, packing for a fun break with her friends. She busies herself around her room pulling out this and that, evaluating it, and putting it away again. Or at least, tossing it on her bed and promising to put it away in a minute. Her red hair stuck to her lip-balm in a ritual known to anyone with anything longer than a bob cut. So far, she’d decided on four shirts, undecided two of those for being too revealing, then replaced them with two more shirts with an almost identical floral print. Two more were stuffed into a backpack along with four pairs of jeans, a handful of socks, extra underwear, and her most appropriate pjs. Was that too much? Probably. The trip was a maximum of five days but what if she spilt food on herself every single meal? You know how it is when you go away. Her hands rested on a thick textbook. A future historian. There’s bound to be lulls while they’re there, perfect to refresh before classes begin again. She seems to have forgotten studying never happens on trips. It doesn’t matter what you think beforehand, it just doesn’t. If I may interject with my opinion, unless you’re planning on improvising a melee weapon, leave the books at home. They’re just so heavy. Pack extra snacks or something.

Before Holly could decide, a large German shepherd bounded into her room. His sopping fur disguising him as a darker, skinnier animal. Cries of ‘Catch him!’ rang out from the bathroom. Too late. With all the cheek of a dog knowing exactly what he was doing, he leapt onto her bed, rolling gleefully on the pile of clean clothes.

“Louie! Off!” Holly jumped at him but he was gone again. Dashing down the hall to find more trouble. She sprinted after him. Her mother had the same idea, narrowly avoiding a collision as they manoeuvred to corner Louie. If there’s anything anyone knows about dogs on a mischief spree, luck rarely falls on the side of the owner. Louie saw his opportunity and dog gamn, he seized it. All but bouncing off the wall, he bypassed the human barricade to head straight for the good couch. ‘No Louie, wet dogs can’t be on fabric.’ ‘Floor time until your dry Louie.’ Not today! He will be oppressed no longer! A powerful leap sent him flying. Only to be enclosed in arms before he could make contact. Blast it! Foiled again.

Tiffy, Tiffany to acquaintances, twirled with Louie’s momentum, coming to a stop in front of Holly. Laughing, she released him into Holly’s mother’s custody to be returned to the bath. “It’s always exciting at your house.” She flicked her arms to remove lingering moisture, adjusting her crop top in the process. Despite her slender body, she was quite strong.

Holly sighed, blowing her bangs out of her face. “Nice catch! Your timing is great, as usual.” The familiar hug greeting was postponed. There was no need for them both to smell like wet dog.

Tiffy winked. “As usual, yours is terrible. Are you ready to go? The guys’ll be here any minute.” She plonked her bags down, looking around for Holly’s. The sheepish grin she received did not inspire confidence.

“Oh please, you know they’re always late. Besides, I’m almost done. I was just trying to decide whether or not to bring a book.”

Tiffy’s face deadpanned. “If you bring a single textbook, I will murder you myself.”

“I didn’t say textbook!”

She narrowed her baby blue eyes at Holly.

“Fine. I was thinking about bringing a textbook.”

“You’re such a nerd. Relax, take some time off. We’re on holidays for crying out loud! You’re gonna burst a blood vessel or something at this rate.”

Holly waved her off. “Yeah yeah, don’t pretend you don’t hit the books constantly. If you think I’m a nerd, you need to look in the mirror.”

“What, to see someone cute?” She fluttered her lashes at Holly. Holly just sighed again, taking her arm and directing them both back to her room. In fairness, Tiffy was studying to be a nurse. Reading was a requirement.

“Since you’ve got so much energy, you can help me pack.”

Thanks to Louie’s intrusion, it took another twenty minutes to finish packing, sort out what now smelled of dog and had to be washed (sorry Mum!), and then put away what was left. The guys, Ethan, Michael, Max, and Peter, for those wondering, had yet to arrive. Surprising no-one. Holly had managed to squash everything into two backpacks, left beside Tiffy’s bags by the door. The pure volume of which was equal parts admirable and horrifying. These girls would put a boy-scout to shame. Holly spent a further five minutes thanking her mother for looking after her dog and then fussing over Louie, telling him she’ll be back before he knew it. It’s always good to be optimistic about these things. He smiled at her in that blank way dogs do. Personally, I’ve always preferred beagles. They’re much more in tune with their people. There’s no accounting for taste, I guess.

The girls sat waiting on the front steps. A text assured them that the guys were almost there and the trip was still on. As the evening approached, lorikeets took up their screeching song. Tiffy’s fingers ran deftly through Holly’s hair, pulling the strands together into a neat braid. Her own honey locks were pulled into a pretty little updo. Well, it’s not like there was anything better to do.

Finally, finally, a beat up van rolled into view. The girls cheered, waving to the driver. Peter waved back, pulling to a stop in front of them. He was the third wheel friend. The friend called when no other friends were available. He knew this and was okay with it. He got on well enough with everyone, but no one knew who had befriended him in the first place. Ethan, much like Louie, barely waited for the van to still before bounding out, wrapping Tiffy in a hug and going in for a kiss. He was the Ken to her Barbie in more than his appearance.

“Oh barf.” Holly mimed throwing up before playfully bumping shoulders with Ethan. Well, bumping her shoulder to his pec area at least. Releasing Tiffy, Ethan feigned a hurt look.

“Aww, afraid you’ll miss out? Here, I can give you a kiss too.” He leaned down, comedically puckering his lips.

Countering with her palm, Holly laughed, pushing him away. “Haha gross.” While Ethan pressed his hand to his heart, she shouldered her bags and handed Tiffy hers. Fluttering baby doll eyes were all it took to convince Ethan to take Tiffy’s bags instead. He offered to take Holly’s but she declined. It was only two bags. Then, just because he’s a show off, Ethan picked Tiffy up as well. Ignoring her giggled protests, he sauntered to the car.

Max joined Holly for the two second walk. His black hair and grey eyes may give a dark and brooding impression, but he was usually awkward around her. Neither Tiffy nor Michael wasted an opportunity to speculate as to the reason why. He denied their teases of a crush whole heartedly. Lying doesn’t change the truth. Despite seeing Holly reject Ethan’s offer, Max offered to take her things. By the time the question was asked and denied, they were in the van.

Michael and Peter in the front, Tiffy and Ethan took the middle, that only left the back seats for Holly and Max. Tiffy grinned a Cheshire grin at Holly as she shuffled past. A punch to the arm was her reward. Holly shoved some random stuff out of the way so she could sit. The fabric was protected by a faux fur seat cover. Probably the worst possible choice someone could make for their car. Max squeezed in next to her. She suspected he sat closer than was strictly necessary. His deodorant was really strong. Interjecting again, it was the kind that’s advertised as the secret pheromone for attracting women. Did he think that layering it on would increase his chances? Poor sweet Summer child. No.

“Everyone got their seatbelts on?” Michael leaned around to address them. A collection of ‘yeah’s and nods, then they were off. “Because of reasons, we’re behind schedule, but we’ll drive through the night and still reach the cabin by tomorrow. Hopefully before lunch.” Before anyone could voice their concerns, he continued. “Don’t worry, Peter’s only on first shift. I’ll sleep then swap with him so no problems there. We should be fine doing that. If we’re not and I get tired, I’ll just wake Peter up and we’ll swap again.” He flashed a cheeky grin. His brown skin contrasting nicely with his white teeth. “If you guys weren’t collectively useless and had licences, we could all take a short turn.”

“Hey!” A unanimous response. Wrapped candy rained down on Michael. He wasn’t wrong though. Tiffy lost her logbook at 80 hours, Ethan panicked and messed up on the parallel parking three tests in a row, Holly was putting off driving, and Max was still saving for more lessons. They may have been in university but that didn’t mean they weren’t hopeless.

“Better late than never!” Tiffy chimed in. The attack on Michael drew to a close. “I’ve never stayed in a holiday cabin before! Do you think it’ll be nicely furnished?” She put her finger to her lip. “What if there aren’t enough beds,” Holly could feel the smug look as Tiffy spoke, “and we have to share?” Because there can never be enough stories about that. Tiffy was not prepared for Ethan’s betrayal.

“I guess you girl’s’ll have to sleep on the floor. I dunno, maybe there’ll be a couch?” He popped a starburst into his mouth. “Or a tent.” Unable to maintain the charade, he started chuckling. He cracked himself up, launching into a full-fledged laugh and almost choking on his candy.

“Just for that, I wouldn’t have saved you if you really had choked.” Tiffy crossed her arms and turned her nose up at him.

“Aww Babe, you’re so cruel.” He leaned against her. She did not break her pout. “Ah well. Hey Max? Tiffy doesn’t want me anymore. Wanna be my gal?”

“Sure, pick me up at eight.”

Tiffy shoved Ethan, rolling her eyes. “You’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

She kissed his cheek. “Unfortunately.”

Not wanting to give them the opportunity to go overboard on the PDA again, Holly changed the topic. “I can’t believe you actually won something from that Maccas sticker game.”

Peter glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. “Yeah, it’s pretty lucky. Actually, I didn’t even notice at first, I almost threw the cup out. I thought it was going to be one of those,” air quotations over the steering wheel, “ “chance to win” prizes. But no, I called them up and they gave me the cabin for a week.” He shrugged. “Maccas monopoly came through.”

“It’s still kinda amazing. The best I’ve heard anyone get was a free macaron. What are the odds, right?”

Peter chuckled. “Would you prefer it if I suddenly inherited it from an estranged uncle or something?”

Max elbowed Holly. “I wouldn’t call it luck.” Nodding towards Peter, “If we look at it from a statistical probability standpoint, if anyone was going to win, Peter was.”

“Are you griefing me for winning a holiday? From MacDonald’s? So help me, I’ll turn this car around!”

“No, of course not! I was just saying we shouldn’t be surprised that you won since you basically live there.”

The group chuckles died down as Peter pulled the car over. Had Max hit a nerve? Peter turned, green eyes capturing grey. “If you’re gonna be so ungrateful,” he jerked his thumb outwards, “you can ride the rest of the way on the roof.” His stony composure cracked with a smirk.

Realising no feelings were hurt, Max was quick to play along. “Oh no, not the roof. Oh great and powerful Peter, please accept my humble apology for my heinous transgressions against you.” He stretched his arms out, waving them in front of him in an over dramatic bow. “We thank you for your noble generosity in allowing us to accompany you.”

Everyone joined the bow. “Thank you! All hail noble Peter!”

Peter nodded graciously to them, returning to the road.

Time crawled as they travelled. Quiet murmuring was interrupted only by occasional requests for a window to be wound up or down again, and a single excited announcement of ‘Bats!’. The fact that the car moved at all was a miracle. Air condition was a luxury they had to go without. It may have been a blessing in disguise that they had started their trip so late. Boiling alive in the mobile rust bucket was certainly not preferable to night travel. Peter and Michael both kept their eyes peeled for kangaroos that felt like testing their luck on the roads. Old car, candy, sweat, deodorant, and ancient air freshener mixed together to form a certain Eau de Roadtrip. Max fidgeted beside Holly, seeming incapable of getting comfortable. He tapped his foot, bounced his leg, wiggled around in the seat. It was getting beyond his usual fluster. Holly poked his side as he shifted position for the thirteenth time in fifteen minutes.

“What’s up? Do you need to pee or something?”

He jolted, stilling. “What? Oh, no, I’m fine.”

Holly pressed her lips together. “Really? You’ve been tapdancing since we passed the servo.”

“You noticed that?”

“China noticed that.”

“Ah.” He seemed to look past her for a moment. “I don’t know. There’s just… Does something feel weird to you?”

She blinked. “No? Like nostalgia or déjà vu or something?”

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“Maybe there’s a storm in the air? My cousin sometimes gets weird feelings when the air pressure changes.” Whatever it was, it was bothering him. He shook his head, rejecting her guesses. “Why don’t you tell me what it feels like?”

Max paused to think. What did he feel? It was hard to put his finger on it, let alone attach a name to it. “It’s kind of like, I guess, you know that feeling when you’ve been sick for a couple days, then you have a Vicks cough lolly and you can breathe in 4D out of nowhere?” Holly nodded. “It’s kind of like that, but everything. Like someone did a zoom and enhance on reality. Does that make sense?”

Holly bit her lip apologetically. “I get what you’re saying but I don’t really know why you’d be feeling like that. Did you have a strong coffee or a really good meal earlier? Maybe?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. I must’ve overpoured the coffee this morning.” Noting her concerned expression, he added a cheerful ‘thanks’.

~~~

It didn’t take long for each passenger to fall asleep, lulled by the motion and gentle rumble of the car. Max was the last awake. The niggling unnamed emotion squirming in his mind. Maybe it was sitting so close to Holly? Or electricity building before a thunderstorm? On the lonely road there was no twinkling above them. Thick clouds dipped them into an inkwell, only the high beams to guide them. It was probably the weather thing. He closed his eyes. Maybe he was just tired.

Holly woke as Michael and Peter exchanged places. She offered hers to Peter, kindly volunteering to keep Michael awake through conversation. Peter was less thrilled to have Max leaning on him, but no reasonable argument came to him, so he concurred. It would have been terrible if Michael fell asleep at the wheel. We can’t have the characters die before we even get to the cabin. Actually, dear reader, I must apologise. I don’t really mean that at all. And we really should try to mean what we say. I’ve taken a rather blazé tone but my heart is heavy. I almost wish I could tell them the kind of tale they find themselves in. I rather like these people. We must carry on, the narrator has no place meddling in the outcome of the story.

~~~

The van eventually completed its journey mid-morning the following day. Harsh sunlight split the canopy overhead, sending crackles of light and shade over the moderately sized cabin. A pleasant looking two-story building that was a hodgepodge of timber and stone slabs. Large windows took up most of the exterior real estate. A thick stone chimney made promise of the luxury of a fireplace. Leaf debris scattered from under the tires, making a satisfying crunch as the group exited the vehicle.

“I thought it’d be greener.” Ethan mused, passing the bare trees on his way inside.

“We’re still in the middle of a drought.” Holly pointed out. Eager to stretch her muscles again, she made quick work of getting her things to the building.

Tiffy hurried after Ethan, trotting to keep up with his long legs. “I guess we should be thankful there are plants at all. It’s so hot. I think I’ll cry if the lake is dried up.”

Michael lingered at the back of the group arching his back to pop the stiffness out of his spine. “It should be fine. This place belongs to Maccas. They’re not going to risk giving a refund for a disappointing stay. I’m pretty sure the lake has never gotten past half empty.”

“Did you research the area before hand?” Peter shook his head. Half-hearted disbelief set in his face. “You’re such a nerd.”

Tiffy cut off Michael’s response. “Don’t start this again. It’s already been decided that Holly is a massive nerd.” She ignored Holly’s indignant response.

Michael sighed. “First, I’m not a nerd, I’m a hobbyist chronologist – there’s a difference! Second, we can’t ‘start this again’ because we weren’t there when you apparently had the same discussion. Get your facts straight!”

“That’s just fancy talk for ‘biggest nerd here’ but whatever. Help me get the rest of this stuff.” Peter nodded towards the boot, his arms occupied with a crate of something. Michael pulled a face at Peter but started unloading the last bags.

Despite racing ahead, Holly could not pass the wooden door. She had forgotten a very important component of entering a building. The key. Why was Peter the last person to even approach the building? He increased his ambling pace at her beckoning, throwing another joke over his shoulder to Michael in the process.

“Do you have the key?” She asked when he reached her.

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s in my back pocket.” Drawing attention between the lines, he rattled the crate.

“Really?”

A grin. “Really really.”

The key was snatched out before Holly had even raised her hand. Ethan twirled the keyring on his finger, winking over Peter’s head. Her hero.

Holly had thought quite a lot about what the interior of the cabin would look like. The nature of humanity is to avoid ambiguity after all. She never expected this. A smooth click and quiet creak and they were in. Everything was covered. The walls, the floor, the counters, even the table. Covered in… frogs. Small cement coloured amphibians had invaded the cabin, conquering it for themselves.

“What on earth…” The sound of her voice animated the frogs. At once, they scampered into motion. Bouncing in every direction, the halls were alive with the sound of frog popcorn. As suddenly as it started, the noise and the frogs, were gone.

“Probably cooler in here than outside.” Max broke the silence. “If you see any more, just toss them out. It’s fine.” He dropped his luggage on the table, prompting the others to do the same. Although the air felt dry and dusty, the place was pretty clean. Michael was right about Maccas wanting to maintain appearances. Peter found a freezer and shoved the crate inside. It fit, but barely. Rosemary and lavender drifted around them, humbly overpowering the eucalypt creeping in from the windows. Poking around the kitchen, they found herbs hung in clusters near a stack of baked beans in the pantry. That explained things. The place was well stocked with all of the essentials for an easy holiday. The stove seemed to work, there was a TV in the main room (Tiffy immediately threatened murder on anyone daring to ruin the ‘cabin atmosphere’ by turning it on), comfortable couches, spare toiletries in the bathroom – everything. Except enough beds. Tiffy was glowing with the delight the grinch would experience if he discovered Hanukkah. It was cut short when Michael called shotgun on rooming with Ethan. She was not so selfless to volunteer to share with Peter to further her pairing goals. Instead, opting to call dibs on Holly, leaving Max and Peter together. The guys weren’t unhappy, but it was hard to miss the look of disappointment. What were they expecting? They’d be spending most of their time as a group anyway.

Rooms sorted, belongings unpacked, and lunch consumed, there was only one thing left to do. Time to check out the lake. Everyone took a few minutes to change into their togs, then a few minutes more to lather up the sunscreen at Tiffy’s insistence. Her skin was tinted gold thanks to the formula in a bottle, a fact she was not ashamed of. “Slip, slop, slap! Shirt, sunscreen, hat.” She said as she handed each group member a personal sunscreen roller. Max attempted to refuse but she narrowed her eyes at him. “Tanning is skin cells in trauma!” Defeated, he took the roller, sheepishly returning to his room. He may have been able to ignore the advice of a future health practitioner, but the government slogans were dyed so deeply into his psyche there was no way to argue.

It wasn’t too long until they were all tracking down the path that lead to the lake. Taking any opportunity to show off, or really to just be helpful, Ethan took responsibility for hauling the esky down. It would have been easier for two people to carry, but he insisted. Rather than argue, the rest of the group loaded up on towels, pool noodles, an inflatable flamingo, and a speaker set to pump music through. No one was around for ages so they shouldn’t get any noise complaints.

The land grew more vibrant and the air rang with bird calls. They heard the water before they saw it. It was beautiful. Clear blue water bordered by chalky white stones that intermingled with greenery more fortunate that the plants near the cabin. Fish darted between cracks in the rocky lake floor while lizards lazed about in the sun above. A waterfall gushed over the cliff wall that enclosed half of the area. The only indication that the droughts had reached this oasis was the rim stain suggesting more plentiful rain once upon a time.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” Ethan dumped the esky, making a beeline for the water. The childish shout sparking a competition. Items thrown to the side and feet pounding the ground.

“Wait!” Holly’s shout brought her friends to an abrupt halt. They looked back at her quizzically. What could possibly be wrong? She huffed. “Haven’t you ever seen the news during schoolies?”

“What about it?” Peter inched closer to the lake. If he was discrete, he could probably push Michael in while Holly was talking.

She shot him a dumfounded expression. “Every year, there’s about a dozen reports of teens breaking their necks because they jumped blindly into a body of water. We’re in the mountains. You know how long it would take an ambulance to get to us??”

Tiffy was the first to agree, returning to find a good place for her towel since the race was cancelled. “Mum’s right guys. We should probably be boring responsible adults and not get grievously injured on the first day.”

The boys grumbled, but agreed. Tiffy and Holly set out the towels. Michael righted the esky – abandoned on its side – and set up the music. ‘Fun fun fun’ by the Beach boys was the obvious choice. The resounding groan from the rest of the group was clearly an indication they had no taste. Peter set to work inflating the flamingo. The water steed was a necessity for the days to come. Ethan and Max were the first in the water, circling the lake for deep drops and hidden shallows.

Again, this is the first draft, I’ll come back later to fix some of the clunkiness and add more flavour :)

Hopefully the formatting is easier to read now.

Tag list: @inkovert

If you want to be added, feel free to let me know ^u^

#writing #my story #to be continued #thriller #creepy story #short story #writblr #Sunday storytime #ask to tag #This is some slow burn scares

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