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wolfjackle-creates · 1 year ago

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Honestly, it doesn't necessarily have to refer to a doomsday situation.

As I said, I got the phrase Homeward Bound from a book by Diana Wynne Jones (the woman who wrote Howl's Moving Castle). And it's definitely a nod to the book.

Spoilers below the cut (do spoilers matter on a book that is 43 years old? Eh, probably. I doubt most [any?] of my followers have read it)

So The Homeward Bounders follows this kid, Jamie, who manages to get on the bad side of some interdimensional demon-god beings simply referred to at Them. They curse him to be a Homeward Bounder. Basically They yeet him from his dimension and curse him to dimension hop from world to world. He might spend a few days in one dimension or he might spend a few months. But sooner or later, the pull will come and he'll be sent somewhere new.

They have a deal with all their Homeward Bounders, though. If the bounder can find their way back to their home dimension, they'll be free of the curse and allowed to remain for the rest of their life undisturbed.

In the end, Jamie ends up finding other Bounders and they find ways to make their jumps together (small group, will only work for one or two people). They learn about Them and find ways to interrupt Their plans and piss Them off.

They decide this is all Jamie's fault and send him back to his (our) world so he'll be out of their system and won't be able to cause more revolt among the other Bounders.

But the thing is, time travels differently among the dimensions. When Jamie is brought back to his world, it's a hundred years in the future. His brother is dead and gone and even his brother's kids, born long after he was made a bounder, are old. He's got no place there anymore.

That's what the code is supposed to represent. It's someone who a version of Bruce once considered family. But this person can no longer get back to the place/time where he had that home and is seeking it now, here, in this place and time.

If I had been planning things out more fully than just writing off the cuff, I would've made it a code for both time travel and dimension hopping, but hindsight is 20/20. And it doesn't have to mean an end-of-world or apocalypse situation. Just an I-can't-go-back-ever situation.

So yeah, the phrase definitely means a lot more to me than it would the average person thanks to the book. It's one of the first books I ever read for pleasure with a bittersweet ending and, while it's not something I reread often, it made an impression on me.

I like to think Dick read the book, too, and that's why he chose the code phrase he did.

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

#my rambles #the homeward bounders #god i was probably 11 or 12 when i read it #when i say it stuck with me #i mean it #never really talked about it before though #dpxdc #time traveling code #hidden meanings

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lara635kookie · 4 years ago

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Ranking the best The 39 Clues books(First season because the other ones just aren't canon in my mind).

SPOILER ALERT!

If you're a Clue Hunter and is reading this post, when you finish it reblog it and do your ranking of The First Season books(please I need to know I'm not alone on this fandom)(Please someone tell me I didn't get to this fandom too late). Also this is only my opinion. If you think different feel free to share your thoughts(respectly). So let's go:

My Personal Favorites:

10-Beyond The Grave(Book Four written by Jude Watson):

Honestly this book is overall good and I really wanted to go Egypt but that's only in this place because Ian and Natalie don't show up in person, they're only mentioned by Amy and Dan sometimes. It may seem like a stupid reason but Ian and Natalie were the biggest enemies of Amy and Dan, arch-enemies since the two understand themselves by person and their appearances have always been so iconic, the chases, the talks, the fights, the teasing so the fact they weren't in this book just didn't feel right. The Cahills and the Kabras have a lot of chemistry, both as enemies and as much something more(if you get me, lovers cough cough), and the Kabras have been sorely missed in this book(at least by me).

9-The Emperor's Code(Book Eight written by Gordon Korman):

I don't know compared to the other ones, this one just look kinda forgettable. Maybe because Amy and Dan spend a good part of this book apart. But of course the story has its good moments which are when Dan gives an autograph for a girl (D. Cahill is priceless), when Dan tells the Wizards that he is a Madrigal (as we say in Brazil: Iconic, Memorable and Timeless) (Dan was very amazing in this book, if you disagree, disagree in silence) and when Amy saves Ian(aka Love of her life) from falling off Mount Everest.

8-The Viper's Nest(Book Seven written by Peter Lerangis):

I love that one but the other ones are just better. I like the ending with Isabel(and everyone) thinking that the Clue was Diamond and It wasn't. I also like the scenes with Kurt because I wanted Ian to meet him and Kurt make Ian jealous of Amy(don't judge my dreams). Another thing that I really like is the history. I really like studying history and I learnt so much about Shaka Zulu. And was also with that book that I realized that Isabel had arrived to stay and that she would be the Main Villain in the end somehow. Maybe That's another reason why I don't like much The Emperor's Code:Isabel didn't show up and I thought she would appear in all the other books after In Too Deep. Natalie on Storm Warning said that Isabel didn't trust Ian and her to handle the Hunt without Isabel anymore since Russia so that just doesn't make sense. Maybe she didn't appearead to give Cora Wizard the spotlight but anyway let's continue.

7-The Black Circle(Book Five written by Patrick Carman):

I love this one so much. Probably because in this book we see that Ian is also in love with Amy. On Book three he seemed to like her but then he and Natalie let Amy, Dan and Alistair locked on the cave and we only see Amy Side of this story. Her sadness. But we didn't know if Ian was sorry, if he regreted his actions. And when they come back on this book we see Ian still likes Amy and the fandom goes crazy. I mean even if you are a Jamy/Carian shipper or shipps another shipp you probably shipped Amyan before because they were the only promising couple on the series(at least on series one). Back to the book I Love The Holts defeating the Kabras and Amy and Dan doing an Alliance with Hamilton(Dan envying Hamilton for driving a Kamaz will be Forever iconic). Also this book was when I realized Irina wasn't bad. I didn't like her in the other books and I didn't notice much of her but everything changed on this book and I started to love her. * sad sigh * Moving on!

6-The Maze of Bones(Book One written by Rick Riordan):

Uncle Rick(we call him like that on Brazil, in portuguese is Tio Rick) did a really great job on this one. For a series that has several authors writing, the beginning is very important and it is a great responsibility for the first author because those who will write later have to understand what you wanted to convey in the beginning to make a coherent continuation. Rick Riordan did it flawlessly. We can identify ourselves in the characters and we get really connected to the plot, the history, the riddles about Benjamin Franklin and after finishing the book we wanna know more about what happens next. So Rick Riordan absolutely slayed this introduction and no one can tell me otherwise.

5-One False Note(Book Two written by Gordon Korman):

This book is just unforgivable. I love this with all my soul. Probably because It talks about Mozart and his history and I really love arts. Also because the writing of this book is so satisfactory and so well done. I mean I really thought Fidelio Racco was a real person. What I also love about that book is the fact that every character get to shine. Amy and Dan are the Main characters but the appearences of all the other characters are really remarkable so yeah That's it. Deserves this spot on the Top 5 for sure.

4-In Too Deep(Book Six written by Jude Watson):

Going now to the four horsemen of the apocalypse from the best books of The 39 Clues. In Too Deep It's just something so perfect It's inexplicable. Something I don't like much about In Too Deep is that when Isabel was fighting to Irina and Ian and Natalie were watching Natalie was like:Irina is going to get Shoot on the head, That's gonna be so good. Like she wanted Isabel to do this, like she would be disappointed if she didn't, like she was used to seeing this type of thing. Then, In Storm Warning she was soft like:Not blood. It's so repulsive(several authors series problem but the series is good anyway). About that book I love the start, I love the middle, I love the apex and If It wasn't for Irina's death in the end this would probably be even higher than already is. Why Irina, Jude? Also:Why Pony? Why Erasmus? Why McIntyre? Why Alistair? Why Lester? Why Natalie? Why Evan? Why everyone? Why not Jake or Cara? Back to the story Jude Watson is Just a genius for transforming a dream(or a nightmare) in Isabel Kabra and adding her to the book. I don't wanna cry today so I'm just going for the next one.

3-The Sword Thief(Book Three written by Peter Lerangis):

If this book was a part The Plastics of Mean Girls, The Sword Thief would be Karen Smith of The 39 Clues, because let's face it:Amy and Dan were really dumb of accepting an alliance with Alistair and the Kabras. Principally with the Kabras. I mean they already were kinda used to temporary alliances with Alistair but not Ian and Natalie but they should have expected that It would have been bad on the end. I mean yes they needed Ian's coin to open the cave to find the clue but they look so surprised when Ian and Natalie leaves them on the cave and they shouldn't because that was obvious that they were going to betray them in the final. So they should have accepted the alliance but being more distant to the Kabras and preparing themselves in case they try something(which was obvious they would). But at the same time, I'm glad they didn't because AMYAN IS JUST MY ENTIRE LIFE(And even a little bit of Danatalie this book is Just a masterpiece). Just like In Too Deep, I love everything about that book, except the end. And I am a Kpop fan(not the cringe obssessed type) and I really like to study about North and South Korea and their history but South Korea's caves just left me depressed. I'm gonna cry so let's change the subject.

2-Storm Warning(Book Nine written by Linda Sue Park):

I love everything about this book. Literally everything. The start, the middle, the apex and the end. I love this book mainly because Natalie got the spotlight that she deserved. I don't know why I like Natalie so much since the start. Maybe because when I started Reading the books I was eleven, just like her. And Maybe because she was pretty, rich, savage and sassy wich I always wanted to be. But there is something more that I don't know how to explain that is really relatable about Natalie even with my reality being too different from hers and this book was the confirmation I needed that Natalie would be my favorite character Forever. I Also like it because it happened on Bahamas and Jamaica(two places I really want to go in the future) and It got a lot of revelations and twists in the end(wich I love more than everything on a book). If Storm Warning was a person and slapped my face I would probably say:Thanks, Could you do that again?

1-Into The Gauntlet(Book Ten written by Margaret Peterson Haddix):

I usually don't like the endings of books because I'm sad that it's over and as all the other books were good I usually demand a lot from the endings, even more than the beginnings (for me the final impression is the one that stays, not the first). I generally like the endings but I've never looked at a ending book and said: This one overcomes all the other books. I normally like more the start or the middle books. But man Into The Gauntlet caught me off guard. DoD is already a trash ending, comparing to Into The Gauntlet, DoD(fanfiction-forced-canon) seems even worse(if That's even possible). Everything about that book It's just top-notch, high quality, god tier, flawlessly perfect. Stan Haddix. We believe in Into The Gauntlet Supremacy.

It's going to have a part 2. Bye.

#the 39 clues #39 clues #39clues #book ranking #season 1

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bad-bitch-beauchamp · 4 years ago

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Songs About Me: Theories & Scones (CH8)

Claire, Geillis, and Joe theorize Claire's relationship with Jamie, and what’s missing. Just a quick chapter today, but it’s leading up the biggest one yet!

READ ON AO3

CHAPTER EIGHT

Claire’s bedroom, a cold morning in early December, Louisburg Square, Beacon Hill, Boston

Two months had passed since Claire and Jamie met at the 21st Amendment. In two months, their relationship went into hyperspeed. With every revelation of how they had just missed each other not just in Boston, but all over the world for decades now, they fell harder for each other. What started as one packed weekend with karaoke, a drunken dinner, a late night walk in the park, and visits to each other’s respective businesses, they found themselves starving for more connection. In the time they could get away from the demanding schedules of being small business owners, they were with each other. The pressure of dating someone new and needing to impress one another quickly gave way to the comfort of takeout meals, board games, and Jamie’s cooking at one of their townhouses. Jamie told her of his home in Scotland and his adventures bagging munros all through college, Claire recounted stories of traveling all over the world with her uncle, and they filled in the blanks of their lives together. Time together was easy, natural. The way a good relationship is supposed to feel. Every Saturday night since the one they’d met, they’d wander the few blocks over to the 21st Amendment to meet Geillis, Joe, Rupert, and Angus for karaoke. Only once did they miss their standing date, and only just: Claire was ready to open the door to the bar when Jamie pulled her back in a whirl and kissed her senseless for the next thirty minutes around the corner. There was only one thing missing from their relationship now…

On a rare morning she wasn’t at the shop or with Jamie, Claire was engaging in a time-honored tradition with her two best friends. Joe and Geillis were Claire’s go-to advisers on everything in her life. They were the only two people in the world to tell her she should leave Frank and move to Boston. They were the two people to tell her she should start her greenhouse and plant shop. They were the two people who convinced her to continue writing music. They were her everything this morning, they were trying their best to convince her of what everyone but her seemed to see in her budding relationship with one James Fraser. Joe had worked a long shift at the hospital and was calling into the girl’s discussion from his car. Claire had been tossing and turning on her bed while Geillis laid with her back on the floor and legs up against the bed, snacking on scones she brought from the bakery down the block. English breakfast and catching up had been the group’s little routine since they were all in school in Oxford. No matter what the week held, they’d set aside an hour (that inevitably morphed into all morning and most of the afternoon) to sit around, relax, and eat. When Claire and Geillis moved to the states, they continued the tradition. When Joe moved to Boston to work at the hospital, their group was reunited and English breakfast Sundays felt right again. Even when one of them couldn’t make the physical date, they always had at least a few minutes to shove down some kind of British snack and catch up. The conversations ranged from old classmates to how the Americans ruin tea (Joe objected to this, but always agreed in the end), and today’s topic landed squarely on Claire’s relationship with Jamie.

“So things really are going well then?” Joe asked from the phone screen in Claire’s hand.

“For as quickly as things started, yes. Things are going more than well, I think,” Claire responded.

“It’s obvious the lad is crazy about ye -- his eyeballs may as weel be superglued to ye every time we go out. It’d be disgusting if it weren’t sweet how he hangs on yer every word,” Geillis offered.

“I think you mean his eyes are glued to Claire’s ass , friend,” Joe cut in, making the girls giggle.

“I cannae imagine how good that man is in bed,” Geillis sighed. Claire shifted to her stomach, facing the end of the bed when Geillis sat and propper her elbows up to cradle her chin. “Speaking of, it’s been over two months since ye two got together, and we’ve still yet to hear the juicy details!”

The wheels in Claire’s head spun quickly to try to play off her increasing anxiety to answer. “Details about what?”

Geillis scoffed loudly and Joe laughed through the phone. “Oh come on, you know exactly what!” Joe teased.

“Ye cannae possibly tell me that a man like Jamie Fraser is not an absolute god. Jes’ look at him! And the way he looks at ye, like he wants to devour ye … after that night of dancing at the 21st a few weeks back, I can imagine what that big, strong body can do and I’m dying for the details!” Claire threw a pillow down at Geillis, laughing at her friend.

“Use your own imagination! I see you go home with Angus more nights than not!”

“And Angus is more than fine, but that’s no’ what we’re discussing here! Plus, Angus doesna have the same… everything Jamie has about him!”

“Come on Claire, spill! We’re dying over here and it’s been two whole months now!” Joe practically begged.

“Unless,” Geillis scooted up to Claire on the bed, sitting cross legged across from her and her garden green eyes boring into Claire, “they haven’t had sex yet. Mebbe there’s nothing to tell?” Geillis continued to search her friend’s reddening face.

“Alright, fine! Are you happy?” Claire threw her hands up in resignation. “It’s been weeks of dates and late nights and practically all our free time spent together, but still nothing!” It was no secret to her friends that Claire had enjoyed her fair share of men since they’d known her. Traveling the world with her uncle had provided her with a slew of fascinating new people: her first kiss was at age twelve in Cairo on an expeditionary dig, her first time having sex was in Thailand with a boy who’s father worked with her uncle, and the names of lovers and crushes littered her diaries in the years between. In college, the friends had embarked on a backpacking trip across Europe where all three had their share of fun, but none so much as Claire. For her, embracing her sexuality made her feel empowered, desirable, powerful. Once she met Frank, everything changed -- through constant beratement, displeasure at her body, and emotional abuse, she no longer felt that same sense of power she’d long found within herself. Geillis and Joe had tried to set her up again in Boston, but Claire resigned herself to her work. The hurt from Frank had made it too difficult to be in bed with anyone else. I’ll be ready again when the right person comes along, she’d told them.

“Ye mean to tell me ye haven’t shagged the brains out of that man?” Geillis asked, shocked. “If it were me, I would’ve had him under me ages ago!”

“It’s not that I haven’t tried,” Claire sighed. “Jamie’s the first person I’ve wanted to be with since Frank. I’ve tried to move things along when we’re together, but he always puts a stop to it and I honestly don’t know why.”

“Puts a stop to it, how?” Joe questioned. “Because god knows it isn’t that he doesn’t want you. Anyone with eyes can see how head over heels he is with you.”

“The only way I can describe it is that he almost… panics?” Claire shrugged. “I mean, I guess we haven’t had the “are we exclusive” conversation yet, and there’s this girl that always pops up on his phone.”

“Want me to beat her up for ye?” Geillis casually asked, stuffing her face with another scone.

“Christ, Geillis, I don’t even know that she’s a threat! It’s just a small thing I’ve noticed. It’s not like he’s hiding his phone or anything, so I’m sure it’s not a big deal, but…”

“But you are a little worried about it,” finished Joe.

“Fine. A little. Maybe that’s why he always shuts me down.”

“Here’s what ye do: ye just need to ask him about it. Point blank. There’s something he’s not telling ye, and it’s either that he’s got some girl on the hook, or he’s a virgin or something. There’s literally nae other reason to have ye by now,” Geillis offered.

“We’re supposed to meet up for dinner at his place tonight… I think you’re right. It’s time to figure out what’s going on.”

#in which tessaactually tries fan fic #songs about me fic #outlander fan fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp

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willow-salix · 4 years ago

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(Fluffember Prompt : Picnic)

Day 5 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

“Are you going to eat all that yourself?” Gordon asked as he sidled up to me in the kitchen. I was making noodles, nice, simple, stir fried noodles, a little bit of chicken, some veg and a sweet and sour dippy sauce. Lush.

“No,” I answered. There was clearly far too much for me to eat alone, I had a Space Hubby around here somewhere… or possibly up there somewhere, it was hard to tell.

“Oh, cool, can I ha-”

“No.”

Cue the pout, the epic Gordo pout. I am immune. I never thought I would ever be able to say that, but I’ve grown stronger, more able to resist the bottom lip of doom. Just about. I remember that I tried that once with John, and his exact words had been “Don’t even try, that won’t work on me, I’m immune, I have two younger brothers.” I’d thought his confident speech had been all bravado and false hope, but he might have actually been telling the truth, my pouts rarely worked on him and the ones that the terrible two dished out never did. Was my man secretly a god? I mean, I thought so, I’d seen him with his top off, but maybe, just maybe he had hidden talents. Hmmm…

“You’ve got that look on your face again.”

“What look?” I asked, needing to clarify his meaning so I could decide if I needed to be insulted or not.

“The one you get when you’re staring at John or that guy from that old TV show, the Scottish one with the time travel.”

“Jamie Fraser is the most perfect of men, he is the ultimate in husband goals, he is…” I trailed off and shrugged. “I obviously have a thing for hot redheaded men.”

“Urghh,” he made a face similar to the one that Scott made when Alan shoved his shoe under his nose last week. Like he wanted to throw up but wasn’t sure which way to aim.

“Why are you in here anyway?” I asked. “Was it just so you could bug me and judge me? I’m busy here, I’m trying to cook.”

He snorted, a scoffing little noise that was quite rude.

“What now?” I sighed.

“Cooking isn’t that hard.”

“Oh really? Then why is it that barely anyone in this house seems to be capable of it? It’s not just a case of grabbing some random ingredients, tossing them in a pot with a prayer for luck and you’re good to go.”

He declined to comment and wandered off without another word. I should have been terrified, but my bean sprouts were trying to burn so I pushed it aside to worry about later. That was my first dumb move.

My second dumb move was to actually leave the comfort of the couch and John’s recently vacated warm spot.

“What the everloving crap was that?” I yelped when a loud crash sounded from the kitchen below us. I poked John gently when he failed to react. “Did you hear that?”

“Since I’m not deaf, it would have been impossible for me not to,” he casually swiped something away on his tablet and started reading again.

“What did they do?”

“And since I do not, in fact, have the ability to see through walls, I don’t know.”

“Go and find out.”

You’d have thought I was asking him to go shopping with me again.

“I don’t think so, you go.”

“They’re your brothers.”

“You’re the one that cares.”

“They’re your brothers,” I repeated.

He gave me that look of his that promises retribution as I rolled sideways to let him get up, rolling back to steal his spot the second he moved. I dragged his blanket over my knees (I’m feeling chilly today) and stole his tablet to watch videos on as he walked away.

I got so engrossed, having fallen down a hole of cute hamster videos, that I didn’t realise for a full twenty minutes that John had failed to return. I had sudden and very detailed visions of my poor boy hogtied and left baking in the sun or some such nonsense. I unwrapped myself from my blanket burrito and started my very slow and reluctant walk towards the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I yelled the second I rounded the corner, entered the room and saw the scene before me. They all froze guiltily, including John, who was at that very second groping blindly around in the pantry. And when I say blindly, I mean it literally, he was wearing a blindfold that by the looks of it, had been made by them tying my shawl around his head. I don’t know what they were thinking, if anything I’m a little surprised that I’ve never seen smoke coming out of their ears when their two remaining brain cells rub together to give them an idea.

The other idiots were all standing around in various places, standing guard over small piles of produce like dragons over their gold.

“What the hell is going on in here? And how the hell have you roped him in?”

“Hang on, he’s got twenty more seconds yet,” Alan told me, clicking a button on his comm again. “Go!”

John resumed his digging around, knocking over two jars of mustard and an open packet of pasta which poured out like a carby waterfall. He ignored it.

“Gordon?” I turned to the likely culprit.

“Why are you picking on me?” he asked innocently. "Why do you always assume it's my doing?"

“Are you honestly trying to tell me that you had nothing to do with this? Whatever this actually is.”

“We’re having a picnic,” Virgil told me.

“It’s blindfolded kitchen shopping,” Kayo elaborated. I switched my glare to her, she was involved, I could tell, mostly because she still had one of her workout head wraps around her neck and had her own pile of goodies on the counter in front of her.

“It was Scott’s idea,” Alan piped up, throwing his brother under the bus. “Time!”

John dropped the item in his left hand, retaining the one in his right and backed out of the pantry. He pulled off his blindfold and gathered up his treasures, a bag of donuts, a can of whipped cream and in his hand a tin of spaghetti hoops.

“What was Scott’s idea?”

“Well, when you told me that cooking was easy-”

“I said no such thing. I told you that it wasn’t as simple as just bunging some ingredients in a…” I trailed off, I could already see where this was going and I wasn’t impressed.

“Exactly, throw some ingredients together and make food. Easy.”

“Not easy,” I insisted.

“So I happened to mention it to Scott, who said that he agreed, you can make anything if you’re creative enough-”

“You should not be learning from the Grandma Tracy school of cookery!”

“The rules are simple,” Gordon continued as if I had never spoken. “One minute to select three ingredients, all of which must be used in the finished dish. You’re allowed to add two more ingredients to aid the construction but that’s all. You can do whatever you want with what you have, be as elaborate or as simple as you like. You must taste your own dish, as does everyone else when everything will be shared as a picnic.”

He looked so damned proud of himself, the little snot.

“How did the rest of you numpties get involved in this?” I sighed, knowing I was beaten. No one answered me. Giving up, my blanket nest calling me, I retreated towards the door.

“Do you want to join in?” Virgil asked innocently.

“No, I really don’t.”

“Do you not have as much faith in your cooking skills as we do in ours?” Alan teased.

I paused in the doorway.

“Dare you, unless you’re scared,” Kayo threw in, just to stir the pot.

“Dammit!” She knew exactly what she was doing, I can NEVER resist a dare.

“Gimme a blindfold.”

Alan tossed me his, which I think was a football sock, but I didn’t want to look at it too closely, I just prayed it was clean. I tied it around my head and Scott checked to make sure I couldn’t see anything. I don’t know what he did, because obviously I couldn’t see anything, but it made a few of them snigger, so I’m obviously suspicious.

Alan started the timer and I groped my way around the table to the fridge.

“Forty-five seconds!”

Crap! This was actually pretty stressful. How did you pick something without seeing it? I decided to stick to one place and hope for the best, open the fridge, feel around, grab some bits, done! Right?

Easier said than done when you have recently gone shopping, the fridge is packed to bursting and you can’t tell what anything is.

“John! Grab this!” I demanded as Alan happily started counting down from twenty as my time ticked away. I grabbed something small and weird, no idea what it was and tossed it over my shoulder in what I guessed was his general direction, hoping he caught it.

I fumbled around and selected something round and cold, that I hoped might be a tomato and held that out too, then in desperation I yanked out a random box just as Alan called time.

I pulled off my blindfold and looked at the things John was holding for me, which turned out to be an apple and a tiny radish. I was holding a carton of eggs. Could have been worse.

“Let the food prep begin,” Gordon declared. “No helping each other.”

Sighing I got to work. Obviously, eggs would be my main ingredient, I cracked four into a bowl and whisked them together.

“Do we have to use all of the ingredients we picked out?” I asked.

“Yes, every one.”

“No, I meant do I have to use the entire apple or the entire box of eggs,” I clarified.

“Oh, no you don’t, it just has to have them in there.”

“Cool, OK, and we get two extra ingredients of our choice?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” That was me sorted then. I grabbed a grater and shredded a quarter of the apple and less than an eighth of the tiny radish. I wasn’t a big fan of those spicy little buggers, I don’t like pepper and they definitely have a peppery quality to them, but I was hoping the sweetness of the apple would balance it out.

I opened the fridge again and selected some cheese which I shredded and some ham, chopping it up quite fine. That would do.

I set a pan on the stove top and waited for it to heat up.

“Do I get to use any kind of oil or something to stop my food sticking?” I asked.

The ringleaders, Gordon and Scott, looked at each other, obviously indulging in some kind of non-verbal conversation I wasn't privy to before making their decision.

“Yes you can,” Scott graciously allowed.

“Thank you.” I dumped in a generous knob of butter. Quickly I sloshed the eggs into the pan, and fluffed them up a little with a fork before I turned the heat down a bit and let them sizzle.

I glanced over at Alan who was constructing something with jam and a pile of cookies. Scott was wrestling with a can of tuna and Gordon was opening a carton of custard.

I sprinkled a little of the apple on top of the egg, then a tiny dusting of radish, followed by a large handful of cheese and ham. I eased the sides of my omelette away from the pan, making sure it wasn’t sticking and checking it was cooking.

John, I noticed, was doing something weird with a lettuce leaf that he had procured from somewhere, it was not one of his blindfolded items so he must have gotten it after. He had the leaf stretched over a small bowl and was spooning a tiny amount of the tinned spaghetti into it. Sometimes I wonder why I agreed to marry into this family. I must have been drunk.

I carefully folded my omelette in half and turned the heat off, letting it rest and continue cooking a little.

“I’m done,” I declared, turning around to survey the chaos that had become our kitchen. Oh the humanity. I would NOT be cleaning this up.

Alan, it transpired, had blindly chosen cookies, cheese slices and curry sauce left over from some McDonald’s nuggets I got a few weeks ago, bringing them and other goodies with me in the space elevator. His extras appeared to involve pilfering a few of the McVities digestive biscuits that I’d brought from home the day I arrived that Kayo had chosen in her blind scrabble around the snack cupboard.

He’d proceeded to make a weird stacked thing he was calling a cookie burger which consisted of a cookie base, a layer of jam on top of that, the digestive and lastly a slice of cheese with a drizzle of curry sauce on top.

Gordon was constructing something very elaborate, involving a bowl and lots of layers. His random items appeared to be the custard, half a vanilla sponge cake and a tub of left over chili. My mind was boggling.

Scott was hacking at a rather stale looking half loaf of bread that John said he found in the rarely used bread bin, I don't know how he'd managed to open the bread bin without seeing it, but apparently he had. He'd also blindly chosen a can of Tuna and a packet of fruit gummies.

Virgil, the adorable chonk, had managed to choose a package of cocktail weenies, a tin of peaches and a few sticks of celery. He had stared at his bounty for a good few minutes, before giving up and wandering over to the pantry. He'd stared into that too, like he was looking into a black hole or contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

Eventually he'd chosen a pie crust from the baking shelf and had begun to assemble his creation. He tipped the peaches into the pie dish, chopped up the celery and cocktail sausages and dropped them in on top. He'd looked around, rather desperately I thought, and reached over to steal John's can of whipped cream, squirting a generous amount on top of his frankenpie and called it good.

Kayo appeared to have more sense than the others, she had been the one to find my stash of digestive biscuits and, after Alan had liberated a few, proceeded to crush them into crumbs which she lined the inside of a bowl with.

"What are you making?" I asked, because it didn't look too awful.

She continued to construct her…whatever it was…adding some cake pilfered from Gordon, some grated carrot mixed into cream cheese that was one of her chosen extras and topping it all with strawberries. It kinda…vaguely…could be a cheesecake, if you tipped your head to the side and squinted.

I turned to John, my man, the one that I was supposed to trust with all my heart and soul…he was…I don't know how to describe it. He'd taken the donut and hollowed out a little bit more from the middle hole, then he'd gathered up the sides of his lettuce leaf/ spaghetti hoops thing and had made it into a little parcel, twisting the end closed. He then popped that inside the hollowed out donut. I have no idea why. He'd finished by decorating the top with whipped cream and sprinkles. What was it with them all thinking that whipped cream was the answer to all their problems? Because three of them had done it so far.

Gordon had sprinkled in a handful of peas, actual peas, on top of his custard layer, then added cream on top. I honestly don't know.

Scott had moved on from his bread and taken some of John's lettuce, insisting it was his first, and put a leaf on the stale bread and topped that with Tuna and sweetcorn, which actually had the potential to taste OK. Time would tell. He'd used the fruit gummies to decorate the plate with, I'm not sure if that counted but since he and Gordon seemed to be in charge I assumed it was allowed.

I slid my omelette onto a plate and vaguely wondered if I should grab a few sick bags before the picnic portion of this weird event started.

They all looked incredibly proud of themselves, why I had no idea, no one should be proud of the mess they had made, this was not food, this was barely a step up from mud pies in the yard.

They all took their food offerings and trooped outside, setting up camp on one of the picnic benches near the edge of the beach and settled in.

One by one they presented their masterpieces. Here are the reactions.

SCOTT’S

“This bread’s hard, very hard,” Alan said.

“It’s very fishy,” Gordon said, although we don’t know if it was a bad thing or not.

“Not bad, I could eat it if I had to,” Virgil allowed.

“I don’t like the sweetcorn on it, it keeps rolling away,” John frowned. He was always a bit funny with tinned sweetcorn anyway, he prefers it on the cob.

“That isn’t just hard bread, that is rock bread,” Kayo complained.

“It’s edible, with fresh ingredients I’d eat it again,” I said, trying to be nice. Honestly it wasn’t that bad, I’d definitely eaten worse over the years.

“It’s almost exactly like the subs we made in college,” Scott said, popping the rest in his mouth and chewing happily. He’s weird, that one, he pretends he’s not, he offers the illusion of being the capable, responsible older brother, but it’s all an act.

ALAN’S

“Erm…” Scott hedged, spending at least a minute turning the thing in his hand looking for a way to attack it.

“I don’t know what to do with this, Al…” Virgil was even less sure.

“Give it here!” I had less issues and snatched it away from Scott. I ripped off a bit of the curry sauce topped cheese slice, licked the sauce off the cheese, popped the cheese in my mouth then took a bite of the sweet stuff. It was hard to get my teeth through all the layers of biscuit, but I managed it. It was actually OK, separating it was the way to go. “That’s actually quite nice.”

John copied me exactly, because I’m the sensible one although he’d never admit to that. “You’re right, it’s not bad.”

“Wimps,” Gordon bit straight through it, cheese, curry and all. Then he gagged.

Kayo took the cheese off her’s, ate the sweet stuff first then finished with the cheese, an unconventional method but it wasn’t like any of this was normal. She made a noise that could have been approval but could just as easily been a whimper of surrender.

Virgil took the whole thing apart and ate everything separately, one piece at a time, declaring it to be, “Not bad.”

Scott glanced at me with that look in his eye that said he was about to do something stupid… He reached for the curry sauce pot…

“Scott, no!” I warned him.

He ignored me to tip the rest of the curry sauce on top of the cheese and threw it in his mouth. Immediately he let out a noise that sounded like a mixture between a gag and a burp. He chewed frantically then swallowed. We waited to see what would happen. “Not deadly,” was his verdict.

VIRGIL’S

“I’m sorry, no, I’m not eating that,” I told them, flat out refusing. “I’m semi allergic to peaches, they give me migraine headaches and I’m not risking it. I’m out.”

“I’m excused because she can’t eat peaches and I won’t risk cross contamination,” John said, leaping on my statement as a way to get out of it.

“That’s a flimsy excuse!” Scott accused, he knew it, John knew it, we all knew it. John didn’t care.

“You’re just mad that you can’t use it,” John said, squeezing my leg under the table in thanks for my weird kinda-allergy. I patted his hand in solidarity.

“No one has to eat it, I did my best,” Virgil winced, knowing that his was likely to be the most disastrous yet.

“I’m in!” Gordon declared, picking out a cocktail weenie and dunking it in the cream before popping it in his mouth. He chewed frantically as he scooped up a spoonful of pie crust, peaches and a slice of celery and shoveled that in after the weenie. He kept chewing, his face registering at least six different emotions, none of them pleasant before he finally swallowed. “It could have been worse.”

Kayo copied Gordon and picked out a weenie which she ate first, on its own. That’s where she got smart, washing it down with a mouthful of water before continuing. She spooned up some pie, peach, celery and cream concoction and tasted it. “Not bad like this, the celery is a slightly weird addition, but it can be ignored.”

“I feel sick,” Alan said, having shoved a large mouthful in.

Scott, the brave boy that he is, shrugged and cut a whole slice, lifting it carefully to his mouth.

“He’s a madman…” Alan whispered in awe.

“A brave man…” Gordon added.

“A stupid man…” I sighed.

Scott bit into it, chewing slowly, rolling it around his mouth. “It’s fine.”

I stared at him in utter shock.

Virgil nibbled on a corner, made a face and pushed it away. “No.”

GORDON’S

“What the heck is this?” he of the iron stomach and nuclear powered taste buds asked.

“It’s that thing they did in that show,” Gordon answered, yet Scott still looked bemused, as did we all, blank faces all round.

“Which show, babe?” I felt the need to ask.

“The one with the friends in the coffee shop.”

“You mean ‘Friends’?”

“If that’s what it’s called,” he shrugged. “It’s a meat trifle.”

Cue horrified gasps all around.

“With a few modifications, obviously, since I had to use chili,” he hurried to explain, although it was anything but reassuring.

John pushed his fork into the center of the dish, looking more and more scared the deeper it sank.

“Don’t eat it and just say you did,” I side whispered to him, worried about his stomach since he usually lived on simple and non perishable food in Five.

“I heard that!” Gordon accused as he spoons up a big bite, determined to prove it was edible, and chowed down. “Huh…” he kept chewing, “not bad…”

“Not bad?” Scott goggled. “Are you serious?”

“The chili is good, the custard is good, the cream is nice, the peas are a bit weird but overall it's OK.”

Virgil was the next brave soul to scoop up a tiny forkful and I did the same getting the smallest amount I could onto my spoon, mostly trying to get just custard and cream, although I think I did spot a lurker pea in there.

Kayo and Alan both scooped up a spoonful and shoved it in their mouths, obviously figuring that getting it over with was the best way to tackle it. Kayo spat hers out instantly, Alan managed to chew and swallow his. Virgil got his down but there was a fair bit of gagging.

“It tastes like a foot,” Alan declared.

John took a small bite and reacted almost like a cat with a hairball, his body shuddering, neck stretching as he silently gagged. I handed him a tissue and he gratefully spat it out, sagging against me as if he was about to die.

I looked at Scott, who nodded in return and dug out his own small amount. “On three?”

Scott nodded and began the count. “One...two...three!” We both stuffed our spoons into our mouths. Scott made a face but managed to get it down, my plan had worked and, while the pea was indeed lurking and rather weird, it wasn't that bad a bite and I swallowed without issue, pleased to have survived.

MINE

“This doesn’t look too bad,” Scott said assessingly.

“How dare!” I gasped. “Cheek of it, it looks tasty.”

Virgil cut himself a small portion, being cautious, since everything else has been questionable at best, downright disgusting at worse.

Gordon cut himself an actual slice, a godsdamned slice of my omelette and lifted it up like he would a piece of pizza then wondered why we were all staring at him like he’d lost his mind.

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. John just shook his head in utter despair at his dingus brothers and cut a more sensible sized bite.

“I’m sure it will be edible,” he says diplomatically, it’s never good to insult the wife’s cooking even when it is so obviously crap.

Alan, disaster child that he is, cut a bit with the side of his spoon like a damned savage and spooned it up.

Kayo helped herself to a small fork full and got ready.

I reached over and broke a piece off of Gordon’s mega slice.

“OK, good luck my friends,” I offered as I popped the eggy weirdness in my mouth… it was interesting. Nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be, the cheese and ham had mostly drowned out the spicy kick of the radish and the apple had added a weird sweetness to it, but at least it was edible if not to my tastes. I managed to chew it and swallow without choking.

“That’s oddly nice,” John said, chewing slowly, thoughtfully.

“Well, you are the person that likes baked apple pieces on your pizza,” I shuddered in revulsion at the memory of his birthday meal.

“What a man chooses to put on his pizza is his own business,” he told me.

“Not when it’s that weird.”

“It’s no weirder than pineapple on pizza.”

“He’s right,” Scott interrupted, “this is strangely OK.” He took another bite to make sure.

“I don’t like it, it’s too sweet,” Alan said, making a face. “ I like sweet, but not mixed with savoury like this.”

“I agree,” Virgil said, setting his aside, “it’s too sweet, but you did your best.”

Gordon didn’t say anything, but he was steadily munching through his piece, I watched him, oddly fascinated.

“It’s edible, that’s all I can say about it,” Kayo told me, which for her was a compliment.

“Well? Verdict?” I asked Gordon when he eventually finished.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it or dislike it, it just is.”

“You’re being philosophical over a weird omelette?” Scott laughed.

“Had to happen some time.”

“How? How did it have to happen?” John asked, utterly bemused, looking like his brain was going into a meltdown. “Who says to themselves ‘one day I will have to say something deep and meaningful about a randomly concocted omelette’? How do you even assume that?”

“I never say never,” Gordon shrugged, not caring to explain any further. Personally I don’t think he knew what he meant either but was just brazening it out by that point.

JOHN’S

I picked up his donut creation a little gingerly, because I saw what he’d done to it and I was wary. He obviously saw my hesitation because he lent closer to help.

“Just be careful with it and follow my instructions,” he whispered in my ear under the guise of being romantic.

One eyebrow rose in response...I mean, what do you say to that?

He continued, still whispering. “Bite down gently and try to avoid the sack,” he dropped a kiss on my neck before sitting back in his seat. Smooth, boy, very smooth. My other eyebrow lifted to join its sibling.

“I’m just trying to help,” he assured me.

“You’ve said that before.”

“And you listened then and look how well it turned out,” he said as if that was all the proof I needed.

I heard a snigger from Gordon who was obviously eavesdropping.

“I was referring to the fact that you often use the excuse of just trying to help,” I sniffed.

“Oh...well…” he tried to look innocent but failed, flashing me one of those devastating grins that just melted me on the spot. “Just taste my damn donut.”

I debated the wiseness of listening to him but decided that, as trust is supposed to be the cornerstone of any good relationship, I should probably pay attention.

“OK, here we go,” I bit down carefully, right at the edge, trying to measure the distance between where my teeth were and the no go zone. I think I brushed the edge of the lettuce leaf but managed to stick to just the donut which, though ever so slightly stale, was still good.

“That’s nice,” I allowed, trying to keep my cover as I passed the donut over to John who took a bite in exactly the same way and therefore stayed safe.

He passed it on to Kayo, who had been watching us intently, studying our moves with her usual mix of suspicion and calculated plotting.

“You’ve got some cream on your lip,” I was told and sat still while he wiped it away with his thumb.

“What do you think, Kay?” Scott asked.

Kayo, having executed a perfect bite from the other side of the donut nodded before passing judgement. “Edible.” She was now fully on board with our trickery and would never rat us out as she passed it innocently on to Alan.

Alan, trusting baby that he is, bit blindly into the donut, hitting the lettuce sack which exploded, squirting spaghetti hoop juice into his mouth.

“GAAAH what the…” he yelped, gasping in shock, dropping the demon donut with its hidden core of evil.

Scott picked up the donut, the spaghetti sauce now leaking out freely and soaking into the dough. Uncaring he takes a bite. “Not gonna lie,” he mumbles around his mouthful, “it's not great.”

Virgil relieved him of the donut and studied it from all sides. The artist in him wants everything to look appetizing and pleasant the whole time, this did not. “This looks hideous.” He nibbled a corner. “Disgusting,” he declared, offering it to Gordon.

Gordon reluctantly accepted it and bit down carefully. He chewed, swallowed and shook his head. “Nope, gross.”

KAYO'S

Kayo pushed her bowl over quite proudly. “Dig in.”

It didn’t look that bad, and since I’d seen a lot of what she used I knew the ingredients wouldn’t be that bad when mixed. Hopefully it wouldn't be the obnoxious assault to the tastebuds that some of them had been.

I slammed my spoon confidently into it and scooped out a mouthful, popping it in my mouth before I could back out.

“Humm…” I chewed thoughtfully, what did I actually think of it? I couldn’t decide so I just spoke my thoughts as I so often do. “It's quite nice. I mean, biscuit, cake and cream cheese is nice, I don't really like the carrot mixed in but it doesn't ruin it to the point of being disgusting. I like the strawberries, so I guess it’s a win.”

John followed my lead, digging his spoon in. “That's pretty good.”

“I really like that,” Scott dipped his spoon in for some more. “The carrot is different enough to not bore me but the rest is normal enough to make it nice.”

“It's too sweet for me,” Virgil said, putting his spoon down after his first taste.

“I'm not liking the carrot but the rest is good, I could eat it,” Alan said, his usual aversion to vegetables or anything healthy rearing its ugly head.

“It's all good. I don't mind the carrot either,” Gordon said, agreeing with Scott.

Kayo, obviously emboldened after using us as test subjects, risked tasting it herself. “Not bad.”

Well, we've tasted everything,” I said, glugging down some of John’s water in an attempt to cleanse my tongue a little. “Was there an actual point to all of this?”

Scott and Gordon both shrugged, not that I was that surprised, there is never much point to anything that any of these idiots do when bored.

“Not really,” Scott admitted.

“I wanted to prove you wrong,” Gordon told me, “and I think we did.”

“How? How did you? Some of this was disgusting, it clearly didn't work. How can you honestly think that you proved my wrong in any way, shape or form?” Seriously, the mind boggles with these guys.

“It showed that it can be done,” Gordon insisted.

“It shows nothing!”

“Just let it go, love,” John soothed, obviously trying to save what little sanity I have left.

“You joined in!”

“So did you,” he countered.

“I give up!” I yelled, throwing my hands up in frustration. “It’s like talking to monkeys, you’re all mental.” I climbed awkwardly off the bench and headed back to the house.

“So, did I win?” I heard Kayo ask as I rounded the corner, leaving them alone.

Stupid competitive Tracys! I should never have left the sofa, hell, I should never have left England. I knew this would be a mistake. I’d be insane by the end of it.

I stopped off in the kitchen to make myself a coffee, hoping it would take some of the taste away. I grabbed a few abandoned cookies and a non Johned donut and retreated to the sanctuary that was the couch and my blankets, which would be lonely without me.

I settled down, retrieved my book (I’m re-reading Outlander, which might be contributing to my Jamie Fraser love right now, all the best husbands have J names, fact) and got comfy, might as well make the most of what little peace I’d get before the chaos found me.

“Move over.”

I stayed where I was, maybe if I ignored him he would go away.

John, being John and refusing to be either insulted or put off by my rejection, simply lifted my legs and settled in their spot, dropping them back down over his lap.

I looked over my book at him as he reached for my coffee cup and gulped down half its contents. He offered me the mug and I put my book down to take it.

“Thanks,” I said because what else could I do? I sipped the coffee then put the mug down on the little table next to the couch and picked up my book again.

John took that as a sign that he was welcome to stay and started making himself at home, stealing some of the blanket and shifting to stretch out beside me. I moved over to make room, letting him settle his head on my chest as he found his tablet among the cushions.

OK, maybe there were a few good reasons to be here instead of alone at home, but I’ll never admit it outloud.

#Isolation Island #Thunderbirds in isolation #fluffember #thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds 2015

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Legend of the Three Caballeros: Labyrinth and Repeat Review (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Saludos Amigos! We’re back on the Ride of the Three Cablleros as I intend to knock this wonderful series out at a steady cliip, and since I THOUGHT the premire was a two parter, it still ends on a cliffhanger but it’s too early to tell if this is just normal for this series like say Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts, where it’s really more one continuous story, or just the end of the pilot. For now with all the exposition out of the way from part 1, we can jump right into the thick of things where we picked off. PREVIOUSLY ON LEGEND OF THE THREE CABLLEROS: Donald had an enormously shitty birthday, loosing his job, his house and his nightmarish harpy.. er his girlfriend, all in one day. Things went up a bit though when he inhereted a Cabana belonging to his ancestor Clinton Coot and met two new pals: Ladies Man Jose Caricoca and loveable weirdo like myself Pancito Romero A Lot of Other Names Gonzales. The three soon had a yard sale with the various treasures inside the cabana and got an offer for a million dollars for the cabana and all inside from local waiter’s nightmare Baron Von Sheldgoose, whose deal includes a jewel incrusted golden atlas. Upon finding it our boys were attacked by a human goddess who popped out of the book and that’s where we pick up.

Good. Let’s begin. So Xandra, said goddess, is holding our heroes at arrow point with their attempts to defuse the situation falling flat and their attempt to understandably flee by claming to be the cabs failing pretty much immidatley. We do get some good gags including Jose accidently telling Xandra she smells like feta cheese in greek. But lucky for our boys before Xandra can do a murder on them Donald accidently shuts the book.. and finds out she disappears when he does that. Cue our loveable idiots opening and closing the book for a while, easily one of the best bits of the episode. I will say while the pilot was pretty good comedy wise this episode solidfies how funy the series is. The series is at times a barrage of wonderful jokes and set pieces and it is awesome to behold. Also a breif thing before we get back to the plot... Xandra is indeed human, or at least looks like one. Normally i’m against this as honestly Ducks just mesh better with Dogfaces, other birds and other anthromorphic animals. It just works better and is more consitent to have a world that’s simply anthro animals and non-anthro animals. But.. it works for me here since so the human characters.. are all gods. While i’d of PREFFERED them to still be non humans, like Ducktales does, it works since she’s not really a human but a god and thus it comes off more as her being something inherently diffrent and otherworldly, but something that’s not so distracting it pulls focus away from the rest of the cast, just otherworldly to our heroes.

So while our boy screw with the goddess who you know, tried to murder them for flimsy reasons without stopping to ask why three strangers look exactly like her friends, we get to know the triplets better. I also get a better bead on what voices Jessica is using. May is using Jessica’s Lynn voice, just a touch higher since May isn’t a preteen, while April, the one in yellow, uses the voice she’d later use for candace. Junes is a BIT like Lucy, but with obviously way more energy and emotion. But it’s clear the three are smart confident and willing to run a scheme, and easily get a thousand bucks out of sheldgoose for the spooky purple ring he saw last episode in a really chortleriffic bit where May serves as an auctioneer while her sisters up the price by bidding thus tricking Sheldgoose into paying. They also get past him having a claim on it as he dosen’t have a receipt or anything else other than a verbal contract with Donald, one that wasn’t even complete since the boys hadn’t brought out the atlas, so they were within their rights to fleece him for the ring.. even if him getting it at all is going to backfire, they had no way of knowing that so it’s whatever. Back in the house the boys have apparently done the book thing on Xandra about a hundred times, and Xandra FINALLY grabs the book. At least our boys are bonding. But while threatening them again , she finds out they don’t know what happened.. and recongiing clinton int he painting realizess time has passed, these boys are her boys decendants, and perhaps some explination is in order since she’s lost in a strange world.

So after unveling a bookmark that allows her to project out of the book without being trapped, Xandra gives us our backstory: long ago, in a distant land I Aku master of darkness unleashed an unspeakable evil... wait sorry wrong narration. Long ago Xandra was guardian of the Atlas, which is explained to be the key to various magical hot spots around the world where various myths come from. Things were fine.. until the evil Lord Felldrake decided to screw it all up, binding Xandra to the book and using it to cause chaos and try and take over the world. All was lost till the Cabs stopped him, freed Xandra best they could, and then journed the world with them till she tragically was shut inside the book and seemingly lost. For whatever reason Clinton never opened the book, we’ll presumibly find out later, and well.. here she is. Xandra is voiced by, unsuprisingly given this project’s all-star cast, voice acting vetran and modern legend of the buisness Grey DeLisle, also credited as Grey Griffith for a time. And like tress she has a rather massive and awesome resume, which naturally i’ll be going into since usually I go into shows mid way and don’t get to do this: Grey’s notable rolls include Daphne Blake ever since What’s New, Scooby Doo?, Lor from Weekenders, still not on plus and I will not let that fact go till I get a valid reason why not, Crazy Cat Lady and Lizzie Divine, Mandy, Doctor Ghastly, Kimiko Tohomiko, Sam Manson, Frankie Foster, Azula, Riley Daring, Freida Suarez, Black Canary (Brave and the Bold), Fire, Dr. Holiday, Aya, Master Nadia, Magpie, Moon Butterfly, Jackie Lynn Thomas, Lola Loud, Lana Loud, Lily Loud, and Martin Prince following Russi Taylors tragic passing, just to give you an idea of how long, varied and wonderful her career and range is. And to give a certain person paying for this review an idea of some of the shows i’m familiar with. Moving on. Despite learning of their family legacy of heroics, our heroes are planning to still sell the book given Donald and Jose are poor, and Panchito’s giving in to peer pressure. Seriously Camil is already the MVP of the series, easily the best part of it and it’s a shame he wasn’t brought back for Ducktales, especially since by season 2 frank was aware of legend and Jamie had been on the show before. But Xandra offers them a life of adventure and heroisim.. and when that fails points out theirs treasure and the boys agree to hear her out. So after showing some off Xandra takes them to a Labyrinth to retreive three mystic amulets, and goads Donald into going in by challenging his Ego after he tries to refuse to go. Panchito is naturally fully on board with a dangerous adventure and Jose is talked into it after Xandra pulls an explination why she can’t go out of her firmly toned ass that theirs a mystic barrier which he buys. So while Xandra conjurs a chair and a coconut drink to relax and wait to see if they die or not, our boys head in. They find a massive, beautiful labyrnith and a large house containing a minotaur. Sadly i’ts not Ferdinand aka the Minotaur who worked as Wonder Woman’s chef, cooking up damn good vegetarian goodies for her at the Thymsicarian Embasy. All of this is real things that happened and all are things that should be in the next fucking movie. Seriously as much of a mess as Wonder Woman 1984 is, i’d buy a ticket in a heartbeat caution to teh wind if it was announced he was being adapted for it. He’s also very smart, kind and loyal if you were wondering. Get yourself a man like feridnand if your into men.

Anyways Jose once again tries to speak a languge, and thus we get about a minute of Eric Bauza saying the word moo... sometimes... most times really.. I REALLY, REALLY love my job. But with the bull pissed off and going super sayian god super sayian, there’s only one thing left for our heroes to do...

So they do and we get a great gag where Donald, when deciding wether to split up as to lower the possiblity of him getting hit, has TWO shoulder devils, because inside every man is a battle between good and evil that evil usually wins while dancing and singing a jaunty toon over good’s grave.

But it naturally backfires and the two devils tell him he’s on his own. So we get a fun chase sequence with the three before Donald finally decides fuck it we can fight back. Noticing Panchito’s talent with a rope, he has him rope and ride the Minotaur which he does, then uses Jose’s hankerchief to lure the minotaur and beat him. It’s a gorgeous, fun action sequence that shows off the series is as cool as it is fricking hilaroius. So our heroes find the amulets, a blue one for donald, a red for panchito and green for jose, and put em on, proudly telling Xandra. It’s then revealed the Minotaur.. is an old friend of hers and this was just a test to see if they could work together and you know.. not die. They can, and she’s proud and plesantly suprised by how good they are. So our heroes return home, Xandra storring the atlas on her back, and all three suitably impressed. Their further impressed when they find a hidden lair with more treasure, and three sets of armor, their ancestors old armor which as it did in the teaser at the start of the series, looks REALLY fucking cool and comes from various civlizations. Just.. lovely to look at. Our heroes pose.. and the nieces find them, wonder what’s going on, and mention Sheldgoose at the door, apparnelty not phased to meet a god or that their surrogate uncle has a hlemet. Sheldgoose has come to offer the money.. and it’s REALLY tempiting. Donald has lost EVERYTHING remember, this money could help win Daisy back, get him a fancy house still in new quackmore.. even a third of a million is still enough to set someone as humble and easy to please as donald for life. But.. it’s here where this episode succeds where the premire fell. By this point we’ve SEEN Donald’s weaknsses: he’s greedy, short sighted and selfish. So it makes it THAT MUCH more impactful when he does the right thing, tearing up the check and refusing to sell out his legacy. Sure this could make his life better.. but it’s not worth his soul, his new friends or the world’s safety. He may not be able to get Daisy back or a new house.. but he’d NEVER be able to repalce his new friends, his legacy, or his wonderful new home. Sheldgoose naturally throws a fit and vows vengance and what have you... and just as naturally gets dragged away by his ring. Like the boys he’s brought to a mystic secret chamber by a family heirloom.. but unlike the boys we get a wonderful sequence of him being slammed into things while Wayne Knight makes delightful noises.

But Sheldgoose finds thanks to the ring he was drawn to a styigan well leading to a talking staff... Felldrake surivived, if trapped in the staff.. and he’s Baron’s ancestor, himself a sheldgoose who urges his decsendant to take the staff, accept his destiny and thus Sheldgoose revels in his new power as he and feldrake summon Feldrake’s loyal minon.

So we end on Donald happy. His day was crappy to start.. but while he lost his house, his shrew and his job.. he’s found a new purpose saving the world, an ew life of adventure.. and forever friends in his two new amigos and goddess mentor. He’s finally happy. OR he is for a a second before Feldrake’s minon emerges from it’s sarcophagus and runs off with donald. TO BE CONTINUED. Not doing the jojo gag this time.

Before we go on one last cast member; Kevin Micheal Richardson is Felldrake, and he is unsuprisingly awesome and like Grey has a long and storied career.. you know the drill by now: He’s voiced the Narrator for Clerks the Animated Series, Robert Hawkins (Static’s Dad), Dark Laser, Numbah 5′s dad who was a VERY poorly aged refrence to Bill Cosby, Mammoth, Trigon, Armagedddroid (Something I never realized holy shit good on him), Captain Gantu, The Joker, Pandabubba, Principal Lewis, Schnitzel, Tombstone, Omega Supreme, Cleavland Junior (They drove a dump truck full of money up to his house he’s not made of stone), Mal Duncan, Doctor Fate, Man Ape, Kilowogg, Sheriff Blubs, William Viceroy , Mr. Gus, Rhombulous, Shredder (TMNT 2012), Rosie Rosevelt, Coach Mitchell (Seriously watch Milo Murphy’s Law, we need a season 3), and Dot’s Zit. As you can tell the guy is VERY good at villians so he was a natural choice.

Final Thoughts: This was a huge improvment. With the miserable parts of the pilot long gone this episode is a fun, breezy adventure that sets up our heroes, the series tone, and our bad guy some more while giving us tons of great gags. I highly look forward to whatever comes next and cannot wait for the next episode. Until then, goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.

#the legend of the three caballeros #the three caballeros #grey delisle #kevin micheal richardson #donald duck #panchito romero miguel junipero francisco quintero gonzalez #Jose Carioca #panchito pistoles #april duck #may duck #june duck #baron von sheldgoose #lord feldrake #xandra

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colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years ago

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First of all!! Loved the MoU fic update! left you a comment on AO3 and all. 10/10 ratings haha.

Secondly, moving countries is great you should try if you ever get a chance. I've always wanted to do that and jumped in on the first opportunity I got to make that dream come true, and I recgozine how lucky I am to be able to do so. It's definitely not easy but I'd do it again if I could (in true sag fashion 😎 haha). Where would you want to live? You ever been outside the UK?

Hahaha you and I in a team would be a nightmare to play against I think. Oh come on you absolutely do not deserve people questioning your intelligence! I like to play dumb in addition to the taunting so people underestimate me, they never see it coming when I win. They never see the cheating coming either, my friends are always shocked when they find out, but I do it almost every single time! 😂 I'm competitive too but I like to play it cool especially If I lose I'll be like "it's just a game calm down yall" but if I win I'm like "in your face losers!" (very mature I know).

I love your drunken story, though does sound like it was very dangerous so I'm glad nothing bad happened to you two! Ah I love yalls nordern accent (me and everyone in this fandom 😂) haha your friend's sense of humor is golden.👌 I'm glad you enjoyed my worst drunken experience, that was the last time I did something like that, I felt bad bc my best friend had to take care of me the whole night and you're right she should've told me it was just a rock! Lucky you you didn't get a hangover the day after, I certainly regretted drinking too much that night however fun it might have been haha.

Like I said before your niece is a really cool kid haha I'm glad you have someone to talk to about Bly Manor, don't know anyone who watches the show and my friends don't like scary stuff so I have to talk to myself about it 😂 and now you! Thank you for entertaining me ;) and I only watch the parts I really like now, I'm tired of crying every time I watch the whole show haha.

Do you do random accents really badly like Dani too? 😂 it is kinda funny your mom said it like that yeah hahaha maybe she just meant the good bits? And I mean, do you think you need help? Lol

I have a sneak peek of that damie fanart here, don't think I'll ever finish it tho. I want to do a medieval AU inspired fanart. Maybe it will also inspire someone to pick up the idea and write it haha.

How's your weekend been so far? My neighbor is making me watch Grey's Anatomy season (???) 500 idk but I wish I was reading that pirate AU instead 😂

Awwh thank you so much!! I will get around to replying to the comment on AO3 tomorrow when I reply to the others I've had a very busy day today though so haven't even had chance to read any comments yet but thank you so much for giving it a 10/10!! I wanna do it as soon as I get chance but I know it's gonna be hard and that I am gonna need a bit more money behind me first but I definitely wanna do it when I can... yeah I've been out of the UK twice- one time I went to France for the weekend when I was doing my A Levels and was like 17 the college I was studying at took some of the art kids and since I was doing a photography A Level I got to go and then a couple of years ago I went to LA for a few weeks which was great but I've never been out of the UK for longer than that!! A nightmare for everyone else but it would be hilarious for us I just know it would haha... I sometimes do I have said some dumb things, I actually used one of my dumber moments as a funny little story in one of my fics- people still laugh at me now for what I said and it's been 10 years... my roommate will not let me live it down!! See surprising people that way is always brilliant like when people just expect you to lose and then you win? That's the best kind of win in my eyes!! I don't cheat at games I am just ridiculously competitive and can't stand losing unless it's something like a video game I am okay with losing those but board games I can't stand losing and I am also a terrible winner my roommate won't play games with me anymore!! I can't say anything about anyone being that kind of a winner because I know I am and one of my sister's is terrible too we literally make a song and dance over winning Oh it was so dangerous and we were so dumb to do it like anything could've happened and we both sit and look back at that and go "man we were dumb" but I also sit and go "oh my god she's gonna be a mum in like 4 months" because we've done some crazy / stupid stuff!! My roommate is without a doubt one of the funniest people I have ever met and she's not afraid to tell it how it is... I'll admit because I have a Northern accent Jamie is like the only character on Bly Manor to not have an accent to me so when I hear people talking about her accent I'm always a little like "what?" Because to me that's just how people talk around here haha I did enjoy your drunken story and honestly we've all been there I have had to be taken care of on more than one occasion for being too drunk like to the point of people having to help me into my pyjamas and everything I've been in some bad ways haha!! She should've definitely told you it was just a rock and not a turtle!! Yeah I've only had one hangover and that was after a night of drinking where I blacked out and don't remember any of the night!! Yeah the night of the drinking is always fun- the hangover isn't though and often makes you wonder if it was worth it haha She's so cool like genuinely just a cool and funny kid and she just asks all the questions about shows she's watched so with me its Bly Manor with her mum and dad it's Stranger Things she asked me about it once but I had to tell her I'd never watched it she didn't seem impressed but yeah I'll talk to her about Bly Manor any day of the week- and you too now honestly I will talk about it to anyone that will listen... I can't not watch it all if I watch it because there's just so much about it that I love even if it makes me cry... episodes 4,6, and 8 are my favourites though and are probably the ones I have watched the most!! Yeah I do random accents all the time and they're always terrible but I always find myself really funny- I had this friend at Uni that had a slight southern English accent because he had spent most of his childhood there before moving up north and he still said certain words in a southern accent and I used to do his accent all the time but it was always terrible!! Oh yeah my mum is pretty blunt with stuff like she'll say things sometimes without thinking about how it sounds that or she just doesn't care like she's said

somethings haha I am sure she did mean the Dani thing in a nice way though because she said she liked her- Dani and Owen were her favourites and I mean some help for me wouldn't be a terrible thing I'll admit haha That fan art is incredible!! Like seriously amazing!! I would love to see some medieval fan art for Damie!! I have been sent a few medieval prompts for Damie and I have started writing some of them but it's taking time to actually get full chapters together but once I have and once I have more time from wrapping up other WIPs I'll make a start on editing and uploading those because medieval stuff is always great!! It's been good thank so far today I went to a little beach town with my mum, 2 of my sisters their partners and two of my nieces (my cool niece was one of them… not that my other niece isn’t cool but you know what I mean) and me, my two brother in laws, and my nieces all played a game of crazy golf while my mum and sisters went to a cafe and had cups of tea... they didn't wanna play with us but we still had fun while we played (I came second which I was very happy with)!! I hope you enjoy Grey's Anatomy and that you get chance to read the pirate AU soon!! It's soo good!! ☺️

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sambergscott · 5 years ago

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i'll promise that i'll love you for the rest of my life

one giving the other flowers, as requested by @rosalitadiazz AGES ago, also dedicated to @397bartonstreet for the initial idea of amy sleeping in/just being the best and @nine-niall for helping with the marriage highlight reel.... and for making me listen to heartbreak weather on repeat for the last few days and coming up with this title

happy anniversary to jake and amy!!! (also since the ep aired 2 years ago today i'm not *technically* late thank u very much)

One million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes after marrying Amy Santiago (or, two years), every moment is as wonderful as day one. He still feels the same rush of excitement when he sees her waiting by their car at the end of a shift, the same swell of pride when she introduces him to someone as her husband, the same “oh my god we’re actually married” moment when he catches her rings glinting in the sunlight. It’s been the best one million, fifty one thousand and two hundred minutes of his life. And while he appreciates every single second they have together, knowing how in their line of work things can change all too easy, their second anniversary presents the perfect opportunity to remind her that everyday he gets to be with someone as amazing as her is crazy to him.

He has flowers, a handmade card, he even hoovered and she’s still asleep.

She never sleeps this late.

Everyone knows she’s the morning person in their relationship and he’s the Get Out Of Bed After Snoozing The Alarm Seventeen Times person. They live together, share a car, and yet most mornings he ends up riding the Subway, squashed between an old woman and a nerdy looking guy who smells like he hasn’t showered in a week, Amy rolling her eyes when he gets to work mid-briefing. The rare days she can get him out of bed early usually involve some kind of bribery using food and/or sex.

The point is, he’s supposed to be the one sleeping in past 11 AM, but ever since their doctor prescribed Clomid to help stimulate ovulation and boost their chances of making a baby, their roles have been totally reversed like Lindsay Lohan and Jamie Lee Curtis in Freaky Friday.

Pregnant Amy falls asleep anywhere and everywhere. The couch, the car, the cleaning cupboard at work when she was trying to find some Nuclear-strength cleaner to remove the stench of Charles’ lunch from the air before she hurled again.

She could sleep all day if he let her and he quite easily could. She looks so peaceful and cute and free from the stresses of her family asking why they waited so long (well, long for Santiago standards) to start a family. Plus, the messy hair and tiny bit of drool on her chin are impossibly endearing in the way only she can be.

He smiles and wraps his arms around her, resting his head on his shoulder, his hands - like his thoughts - drifting to her growing bump as they inevitably always do.

This time next year they’ll be celebrating with their little boy or girl, telling them all about the insane, magical day that was May 15th 2018. Of course, it might be some time before they can fully grasp the TV-worthy drama of the creepy phone call, the bomb in the vent, the ex-boyfriend proposing - twice! - and the wall of Amy photos, but they will sure as dammit know how beautiful their mom looked in her dress and how happy their dad was when Grandpa Holt finally announced them as husband and wife.

“Can’t breathe,” his wife squeaks, finally awake. “Arms too tight.”

“Oops. Sorry, babe.” He kisses her by way of apology; sometimes when he gets to thinking about that day, about seeing her walk down the shredded paper aisle under the glow of fairy lights, surrounded by the very people who watched them fall in love, he kind of forgets where he is and what he’s doing.

She’s always had that intoxicating effect on him. That’s never gonna change.

“Time is it?” She yawns, stretching her arms above her head.

“Twenty five to,” he pauses to brace himself for her reaction, “...twelve.”

“Twelve?” Horrified, she moves to get out of bed and yeah, he knows her so well. “Let me go,” she huffs in frustration when he forms a barrier to keep her from leaving.

“No can do, Santiago,” he says authoritatively. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone and you’re pregnant. You need to rest. We’ve both got the day off, our dinner reservations aren’t until 8. Just let your husband take care of you for a couple of hours.”

She chews on her lower lip, making her contemplative face that he recognises from sitting opposite her for so many years, preferring watching her piece together the leads in a case rather than work on his own. “Fine,” she eventually concedes. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Happy anniversary,” he returns the sentiment, kissing her again because, well, he can, one of the perks of marrying Amy Santiago (alongside a perfectly organised sock drawer and getting to hang out with the best person in the world 24 sevs). “I got you these,” he adds, procuring the daffodil bouquet he found online.

“Jake,” she sighs dreamily, placing the flowers on her nightstand. “They’re beautiful. And my favourites.”

“I know,” he smirks. He may not be Santiago level smart, but he’s smart when it comes to all things Santiago. “Also made you this.” He hands over the card.

She opens it, instantly tearing up at his sweet message inside, the dam bursting when she notices the scrawled message written with his wrong hand from their unborn baby. “Mine sucks in comparison,” she laments, passing him his card before locking her eyes back on the words ‘happy anniversary to the world’s best mama’.

“It does not suck,” he reassures her, clutching it to his chest. “I’m going to savour it for all times. I want to be buried with it.”

She rolls her eyes, drying her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought you wanted to be buried with your original copy of Die Hard.”

“OK, Die Hard and your card. Rhymes for a reason, Ames.”

“You’re such a dork,” she responds, stifling her laughter. “Can’t believe I’ve been married to you for two full years.”

“I know.” He grins. “What was your favourite part?”

Her eyes glimmer with excitement and love and memories of their first anniversary before things turned upside down. “Are you suggesting we do a marriage highlight reel à la NBA inside stuff?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I’ll go first. NUMBER FIVE,” he yells in his spot on Ahmad Rashad impression, earning a giggle from his wife. “Number five is that dress you wore on my birthday. Your butt looked the bomb in it.”

“Thanks, babe.” Two years in, she’s used to the constant “your butt is the bomb” comments, often uttered at the most inappropriate of times like when she stands up to brief the squad or play soccer with her brothers, much to her chagrin and their delight.

“Number four,” she quickly moves on. “The time you taught me to play Mario Party and I beat Wario on the first try.”

“That was my worst moment,” he groans.

“And that’s why it’s my best.”

He sighs, considers debating it, engaging in the classic back-and-forth that is the very foundation of their relationship, but it’s moot. She was way better than him. Santiago’s learn fast. It’s in their genes or something. And despite the crushing disappointment when she beat Wario with ease and dork danced her way to the kitchen to grab them both an orange soda, it was still a very fun night and a worthy moment in the highlight reel.

“Number Three. The York murder.”

Immediate understanding spreads across Amy’s face, but he explains anyway.

“I spent three days working that case and you just came in, saw the board and solved it right away.”

“I’m very smart,” she jokes lightheartedly.

“You are,” he agrees, his voice coming out softer and sincerer than even he imagined. “I love that about you. I love your brain. I love how good you are at your job, at figuring out puzzles. I love that you listen to NPR and know so much about the font Helvetica and have read, like, a million books. I love that you do a crossword every night and I love how proud you look when you give me a sports clue and I actually get it right. I love cheering you on at Trivia Nights even when Kylie can’t stop glaring at me. How lucky am I to have the smartest wife in the world?”

Touched, she can barely compile her thoughts to reveal her Number Two.

“The night at Shaw’s, at Hitchcock’s second divorce party, your speech, the way you kissed me, the way you were so gentle when we got home,” she sniffles. “It was special and made me feel so loved and if I say anymore I’m going to cry again, so you go.”

He chuckles knowingly. The pregnancy hormones have been making her extra emotional lately, they can’t even watch commercials anymore without her fully weeping. And while last year Pam and her twisted bowels interrupted before they could get to Number One, this year Number One is obvious. Clear as day. And there’s no one to interrupt.

He pretends to think about it for a minute (because he will always love teasing her, married or not). Only when she grabs his arm and digs her nails into his skin does he put both their hands on her bump and smiles. “Obviously this little guy or gal is Number One.”

She smiles back at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

His own face falls. “Ames?”

“It’s been a hard year, hasn’t it?” She sighs, thinking back to calendars and fertility appointments and the strict no nacho policy.

“Yeah,” he says, “it has. But this next year is gonna be the best one yet.”

“I mean... We’re probably not going to sleep a lot.”

“You might not sleep a lot but I sure will,” he teases, his words falling flat. “Just kidding, babe. Obviously I’m going to get up for all the feeds and diaper changes and whatever else this kid throws at us. Gonna be there for you both. No matter what.”

The pregnancy hormones strike again and she starts crying and, honestly, he can’t wait for this baby to get out, for more reasons than one.

“BRB, I’ll go make your favourite breakfast to make you feel better, don’t grow anymore body parts while I’m gone.”

He returns seven minutes later with pancakes, a ton of fruit, decaf coffee and another kiss. He climbs back into bed, devours his own Nutella pancakes and posts his favourite blurry, drunk on Champagne and love selfie from their makeshift wedding reception at Shaw’s, on Insta with a caption about how he promises he’s gonna love her for the rest of his life.

And he keeps that promise.

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #dork danced is my new favourite verb

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woozi · 3 years ago

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i agree how you described twt, sometimes everyone's just ready to fight it seems, i've genuinely had fun on both platforms at different times but now it's just too much on stan twt (no space for difference of opinion djsjdjj) it's good to know you're having fun as well :3 & omg i've seen few of my moots starting to give svt their attention after fallin flower dropped, everything abt it is <3333 the song, mv, choreo i love it.

hdjdjddkdjdj " virgos 😐 " also me in next breath "happy birthday mark :D i love you so much 🥺💕💗" any virgos reading this i really hope you enjoy your month to the fullest djjdjd <3. righttt?? you're correct abt mark's temper being very virgo djdjdkd.

your line screams hard-working people <3 jihoon, jaebeom, jeonghan the 3Js <3. isn't jaebeom also an infj? (i don't take mbtis seriously but at the same time it also makes me happy if it ends up matching someone i like djdjjd) chan & yugs 🥺 these two imo have the sweetest personality, like the one which makes you feel welcomed & they also have the cutest laugh 🥺.

i love jus2 <3 focus on me is one of my favorite kpop mvs of all time & also drunk on you??? i love this song so much, very sexy of them. the vibes, style and everything w/ their album, i want more songs like that. and for when i am feeling melancholy i need more songs like jjp's verse 2 😭💔 but i am also okay if they don't want to go back to these units bcoz everything so far they've been giving is just as great <33 ( maybe in future we'll get blessed w/ features 🥺)

honestly g7 as grp and individually have won me over with their music style, even if i don't like full album ik there will be 3-4 songs which will be exactly what i like to listen to, all of the music they've released individually i've liked it so much. there is this song of youngjae's, titled "i'm all ears" i had no idea of its existence until it popped up in my spotify i'm so glad it did, it's been in my playlist ever since. there was also a time when i was obsessed with jackson's 'on the rocks' djdjdk.

aww <3 the live performance video of 1° has mark as thumbnail so for long time i used to associate this song with him jdjddk. i think the only j*pe thing i'd miss is got7 studio live sessions 🥺. RIGHTJDKSKS aju nice's mv is very cute djjddk I love it, in reality its reverse tho, i see them and boom! 💖💛💗🤍💕💙

it was the year they won first bb*as award so that gave them the exposure, and no i don't follow them anymore. mixed feelings abt them, very negative feelings abt f*ndom fjdjdjd. i do miss what it used to feel like liking them sometimes. at that time i never thought i'll willingly drop them from my interest (i've stanned zayn since 2012 first him as grp member then solo. sometimes thinking abt it gives me a whiplash hddjks it's been 9 years, really thought it would be same with them too but it didn't happen)

i've had falling in love by yugs and in to you by jaebs on loop for days djdkdk i really love these two songs and also air by bammie <3 (i'm slow jams kinda person djdjdk :3)

(bam released the most fun album & title this year idc abt others, ribbon is one of the soty) also special mention of look so fine & running through the rain. yes! you do make sense they feel organic & very them.

exactly 😭 it's more believable when they drop stuff out of nowhere like encore 😭😭. the way youngjae posted his letter on twt too ddjjdkssk the announcement & release of encore is such a 'you just had to be there' situation the excitement, nervousness, confusion and everything 😭 sometimes i can't with them. also is the bibi with mark on ost, the same one you mentioned in last ask? the ost is really good <3, it must've been fun to see it happen (if its same bibi).

making a whole ass playlist just for me???? 😭😭😭🥺💗 yza you're so sweet nooooo 💖

and don't worry abt replying late jdjdkdjd i mean it, sometimes my friends text me after weeks and i'm am the same. it's really okay <3. i hope this week is treating you kindly, take care yza - 🪂

p.s ( just saw last post djjej) - it was me who manifested more bunny dino <3 manifesting even more <33

i was on stan twt during my younger years too and it was v fun and memorable to me ngl <3 idk what happened though.. it's evolved to be.. Something Else.. i still see a lot of good people there though 😭 and now that i'm in my Hag Era... idk it's just too fast for me now 😭 it's still my go-to place for updates though nothing can top twitter on that dept

and ms fallin flower.... i feel like everyone was blown away by it (based off of what i see carats when talk about it) and rightly so!! she SERVED. the looks too oh my god. it's another factor i look forward to and enjoy so much when i watch their performances!!

u know what? virgos 😐 indeed KJJKDFJKFDJKFDKJ i want to slander virgos today because it's their season and no one slanders them that often so <3 ABOUT MARK'S VIRGO TEMPER THOUGH... i know i've said i enjoy seeing it sm but whenever i think abt it i cant help but say that.. I Love His Temper <3 he doesn't get pissed off in a scary and douchebag-y way it seems so... contained?? IDK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT he punched an a/c though so that might not be the perfect word to describe him lmaoo <3

THE J TRINITY HFDJFJDJHDF BESTIE UR MIND IS SO!!!!!!!!!!! honestly... maybe it's the acts of service for me <3 JKDFKJFDKJFJKD i think this is just my eldest sister and savior syndrome speaking though kfjkdkjf ALSO OH MY GOD THE WAY U NOTICE THESE THINGS <3 THAT'S SO SEXIE OF U!!! and yes he used to be an infj!! there was an interview that's more recent wherein he mentioned that he's now an enfj though but i cant rmb which interview it's from :/ ALSO MOOD FKJJKGJGKF i dont believe in mbtis too but im just... a little obsessed w it for the fun of it all <3 and the way u described them </3 what if i tear up a little </3 I LOVE CHAN'S LAUGH SO MUCH BUT IM SO SOS O GLAD U BROUGHT UP YUGYEOM'S LAUGH??????????? IT'S NOT TALKED ABT ENOUGH LIKE...... HELLO!!!!!!!!!!! one of my bird moots said he sounded like a schoolboy in choir 😭😭😭😭😭😭

GOD UR TASTE!!!!!!! what if i start falling in l*ve a little :/ what then :/ focus on me was ahead of it's time and people fucking slept on THEM i cannot fucking believe this. this has to be some kind of sick joke 😭 ALSO HAVE U SEEN THE CHOREO FOR SENSES!!!!!!1 INCREDIBLE!!!!!!!!!! holy fuck!!!!!! sorry for the expletives but like.... holy SHIT they did THAT!!!!!!!! ALSO UR SO RIGHT </3 jjp verse 3 when... ALSO did u know i let go of the jjprojects url... thats the worst mistake of my life KDKJDSKJDSJK also agree wholeheartedly <3 i think they're all trying to find their footing this time around as soloists and im so proud of them for that!! i'll stand by my jus2 agenda though bc they're almost in the same company so maybe.. i might have hope left 😭

SO TRUE BESTIE!!! the same principle goes w svt for me as well <3 got7's such a flavorful group musically like... all of them have the capacity to go solo and they're still considered flops.. waht the fuck <3 ALSO OMG FJDKJFKFJD YOU'VE HEARD The Song!!!!!!!! maybe he'll be releasing something along those lines <3 esp now that he's supposedly coming w an album KJSJKDJSK on a similar note.. do u also listen to jamie (the other artist on the song) <3 NOO SHUT UP THIS CANNOT BE FOR REAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!1 i was obsessed w on the rocks too 😭😭😭😭😭😭 IT WAS MY FAVORITE ON THE MIRRORS ALBUM HELLO??????????????????????????? im proposing to u rn

ok now i have to watch all the live vids again JKDSJKSJDKDSKJ ik keep saying 'ur so right', 'i agree', and 'so true bestie' but im gonna have to say this again bc i LOVE LOVE LOVE live sessions sm no matter the artist. i also just am a little partial to live bands in performances like that in general so JDJKKDSJDS

the way you're saying these cute things abt the svteenies.. </3 giving me heartache!!! i'd bully them though i can't coddle them anymore <3

not the fandom JKFDKJFDKJFDKJFKJF ok but i think it's mostly their younger fans tbh. it wasn't this bad before.. i also really liked bts during their debut days. their songs were really good!! i kind of lost interest though and couldn't really get into them although their songs slapped lol. my irls are still into them though so i still hear about them. 9 YEARS............................... wait oh my god it HAS BEEN a little over a decade since 1d was The Thing huh 😭 now i feel kinda old lmao. and i totally get that feeling </3 it really do be like that sometimes JKFDJKJKFD

you really ARE keeping up w the sevens oh my god how are you doing it!!!!!!!!!!! it's like getting svt content now at this point but more complicated bc u need to get the updates from different sources JDKJSDKJJSKD love ur song choices too <3

ALSO FULLY RELATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! when i saw bam's teasers... the aes was my cup of tea and THE HIGHLIGHT MEDLEY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i can't fucking get it out of my mind it's objectively one of the best things i've seen from kpop in 2021. i'm super impressed <3 love how abyss really supported bambam on this. they really went all in for him!!

I KNOW GKJDFJDK I GOT SUPER ???????/// DURING THE TIME EVERYONE THOUGHT THEY WERE DISBANDING LMAOOOO they pulled a move that's so unheard of though no one really expected That. i respect jaebeom so much for handling all the paperwork and shit behind the scenes it must've been HELL!! ALSO IT MEANT I CRIED FOR NOTHING THEN 😭😭😭 AND YES OH MY GOD IT'S THE SAME BIBI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE SHOCK I HAD WHEN I SAW THE LIST????????????????????????? thought i was gonna black out like,,, mark,,, AND BIBI??????????????? she's fucking phenomenal how is she just a YEAR older than me.. INSANE!!! ... and i also thought jackson was gonna have an ost for this movie.. idk why it wasn't released though i didnt look into it :/

i had a rough few days so i'm not yet finished with the playlist (my laptop's Dead i am still trying to revive her and uni's starting soon 😭) but for the mean time, here's another one that some people from caratblr previously asked for JDSJKSDJ these are mostly english songs though its not my k-playlist KJDSKJSDJK

i do hope this week gets better!!! and i hope that you'll have a fun one too <3 thank u for being so patient w me 🥺 i just get so many messages and find the need to recharge FDKJDFJK

ALSO I FELT LIKE IT WAS U!!!!!! OH MY GOD, i even searched my blog for the word manifest but for some reason your ask didn't come up in the search so i didnt mention u in the tags so i wont misattribute if it ends up not being u 😭 thank u for manifesting this chan for me he's my little... hop hop now ig... 😭

#lov u u genuinely make my days better!! <#*<3 #also the way u called me by name... passing out rn </3 #🪂 anon #anon #y.ask #long post

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anika-ann · 5 years ago

Text

Lessons in Rule-breaking - Pt.1

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 4100

Warnings: ...nothing major? Swearing, fluff, mention of death.

Summary: Working part-time at Smithsonian for a while now, you knew you could get in trouble when breaking the no-newcomers-after-30-minutes-before-the-closing-time rule, but you sure didn’t expect the trouble to look like this.

Story Masterlist

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You were bored. Enormously. The clock was telling you there was still twenty minutes until the closing time and that time was always filled with boredom – half an hour ago, impressive crowds were still flooding the Captain America’s exhibition as if it was The Independence Day aka Cap’s birthday. Now, with the well-known rule of not letting any newcomers in less than 30 minutes before the closing time, the counter desk was painfully empty. Hence the boredom and the idle hands.

As far as you heard, idle hands were the devil’s tools and maybe it was the truth – but here in Smithsonian, there weren’t many things for the devil operate with. Sure, you could go to another level for a different exhibition and mix up some captions to artefacts, but that seemed like too much work and with how crowded the space was, it was next to impossible. Another option was to pull the fire alarm, but you weren’t that much of a punk.

So, most of the time, you settled with watching people around you – unlike when the insane number of people was flowing in and if you hadn’t had an ID shoved into your face allowing a children discount you wouldn’t have known if a kid was coming or an adult, a man, a woman, a farmer, the freaking president or Captain America himself – finally having the time to relax. You weren’t proud of barely paying attention during the busy hours, but… well. You made up for that in the free time in the evening.

There was a kid with a backpack with Captain America’s shield on it, watching what could be his brother in his father’s arms as he was holding the kid up right next to the panel showing Captain’s transformation from the skinny boy to a walking rock. Very cute rock. Anyway, in the corner, an incredibly bored-looking girl was pulling her mother’s sleeve, impatient to get out, perhaps looking forward to seeing a cartoon instead of a war museum exhibit. There was a guy rolling his eyes at his girlfriend, who was standing by the display of authentic outfits (and mannequins, the source of the man’s annoyance, if you could take a guess), making heart eyes at the Captain’s figure; you couldn’t hold back a giggle and looked away.

Which was exactly when you noticed the pair on the different side of the gate, outside of the space of exhibition. It was a woman with a boy who couldn’t be older than six years old. He would have been cute, a ginger with several freckles on his nose and cheeks, looking like he would have dimples when smiling, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for smiling. In fact, he seemed wrecked. Glassy tears were rolling down his cheeks, welled up in huge eyes and he sniffed from time to time. The woman whom you assumed was his mother was trying to comfort him, herself wearing a helpless expression.

Alright, you were leaving your post right now. Perhaps it was the devil’s handiwork indeed, maybe it was none of your business, whatever the kid was crying for. But it was breaking your heart. You approached them rapidly, and being just few steps from them, you could see the mum pointing at a sign – the sign that was telling them that they could no longer enter the exhibition.

Ah, damn.

“Can I help you?” you asked politely, the woman’s gaze immediately snapping your direction, startled a bit. She eyed your nametag.

“No, no thank you,” she brushed you off, an apologetic smile on her lips. The kid sniffed again.

“Alright. If you’re sure…”

You backed off quickly, spinning on your heels and mentally slapping yourself. Why had you come to them again?

“But mommy-“

“No, Jamie, sweetheart. We’re late, we spent too much time in the park. We’ll have to come here another time-“ the woman explained patiently, her voice gentle but firm.

You bit your lip but started walking. Rules. There were rules.

“But you said we’re coming home in the morning! I’ll never see Captain America,” he sobbed and your heart sank. They must have been tourists.

But nope. No exceptions. You would do it once and then it would become a standard. Not to mention you could also get freaking fired for it— well, probably not fired, just punished, but still. Rules.

“We do, honey. We’ll have to come-“

“But you promised!”

Yeah, that was enough. You turned to them again and squatted to the kid. He frowned at you, his lower lip trembling. Oh boy, now you were lost to him.

“There are rules that need to be followed,” you said quietly and the kid sobbed again. The mother looked at you, caught between apologetic and angry about you moralizing her kid. You quickly continued. “But, we have one more rule here that not many people know. Can you keep a secret?”

The boy seemed intrigued enough, which was good. You eyed the woman; she was watching you in anticipation, probably ready to report you for harassment, but curious about what your play was.

The kid nodded.

“Good. I’ll tell you, but I’m gonna ask you a question first, okay?” Another nod. “Who’s Captain America?”

“A hero!” the kid replied immediately, his eyes lighting up with a spark of excitement. You couldn’t help but smile.

“And why is he a hero?”

“Because he’s strong! And he has the shield! I have a Frisbee like him! He’s the best superhero!”

You bit the inside of your cheek at the idea of what the big hero would think about his shield being compared to a Frisbee – it certainly wasn’t the first time you heard this, but it never failed to amuse you.

“Really? That’s great. But do you know why he’s a real hero?”

The boy seemed thoughtful for a second before he measured you with wide eyes, clueless.

“Because,” you whispered, leaning closer to him conspiratorially, “he has a good heart and he’s helping people.”

The kid was in awe. The mother stared at you, still unsure of what you would do.

“Now the secret – we have one more rule here. If someone has enough strength to open the ticket barrier, he can come in even if there is only 20 minutes left.” Jamie’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. “But, he can’t only open it for himself. He needs to be of a good heart and let someone else in. Do you think you can do that? Are you good?”

The kid immediately nodded in agreement, taking his mum’s hand. You smiled at him and looked at the woman hesitantly. Did you just screw up?

“Can you really let us in?” she asked you lowly when you levelled yourself with her. You just nodded wordlessly. You would have to put in someone’s year pass, but it would work.

The boy practically pulled his mum to the ticket barrier, impatient. He tried to push before you even took your place by the computer. The barrier didn’t move, of course. You mentally grinned at his confused expression and quickly entered a pass. He tried again, an amazed smile on his lips as he went through. Being on the other side, he pulled so his mum could get in too. He had an extremely focused expression on his face and he was too cute for his own good. The way he lighted up when the woman got in was simply priceless.

“Mom! I’m strong and good like Captain America!” he exclaimed enthusiastically and the woman patted his head lovingly.

“Yes, sweetheart. Now, let’s thank the nice lady-“

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome. Now go to see your hero,” you whispered encouragingly, anxious to get them moving. You were suddenly worried that your interaction might attract someone’s curious eye. You prayed it hadn’t.

The mother shot you one more grateful look and let her son to drag her away. You went to throw the tickets away to destroy the evidence, picking few more on your way – why did people throw these on the floor when the trashcan was like three meters away?

"That was really nice of you."

"Crap!” you cursed, nearly jumping out of your skin at the fright. Someone had seen you let the kid in. Definitely. Oh shit. You quickly spun to the male voice. “I— please don't report me. I’m-“

You froze when you saw the man who had witnessed your offence to the regulations, recognizing him immediately despite his baseball cap and casual stance.

“OH CRAP."

"You seem to swear a lot though," he noted, the smile on his lips amused, cheeky even.

Captain America was a cheeky man. Who would have guessed? Not you, that was for sure. You slowly let the impossible fact of Steve Rogers being here sink in. It was not an easy task, your mind kept screaming ‘holy shit, Captain America is here and talking to me’, but that was not the main problem – the rule-breaking was. Captain America caught you breaking a rule. You were so fired.

"Well, someone who is not just anyone, caught me breaking a rule that is written in huge-a-“ you closed you mouth before another curse could leave you mouth, remembering his… teasing? “-huge letters for everyone to see. The American symbol of righteousness did, actually. I count myself entitled."

You were honestly proud of yourself for saying so many sentences without a stutter despite freaking out.

His smile turned a bit bashful, the amused spark remaining in his eyes only. Really? He was self-conscious? And now? Wow. Did he notice his face was all over the walls? The entire exposition was about him for god’s sake.

"I won't report you. I told you – I think it was really nice of you."

You hesitantly smiled back, still unsure. "Uhm... okay."

And then you did something you excelled at. You spun on your heels and returned behind the counter, pretending you didn’t exist. You didn’t even say goodbye; yet, you would swear that when was Steven Grant Rogers disappearing behind a corner, he glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile.

The moment you couldn’t see him anymore, you let your elbows hit the counter desk and your head fell into your palms with a whine.

You had talked to Captain America. He had been ridiculously nice despite – or because – of what he had seen you doing. And you ran away. You were such an idiot.

═══════☆═══════

To say that you forgot about the incident before it was time to kick people out would be a big fat lie – mainly because it had been only tens of minutes. It was time to close the exposition for visitors. The guards always took care of people, reminding them that it was time to go and by eight o’clock, the last individuals were leaving so you could close the gate. Today was your turn to check on the space once more as the guards were switching shifts and so you rose to your feet to perform your duty as your sort-of-friend Mia waved you goodbye.

Usually, there were no ‘left-overs’ as you called people who somehow managed to escape the security and stayed in. But naturally, with your turn being today, there had to be an exception.

You slowly approached the man standing by Sergeant Barnes’ panel, realizing who he was within several feet distance. You stopped dead in your tracks, unsure what do to.

What would anyone else do when finding Captain America standing by his dead best friend’s panel after clock? ‘Cause you sure as hell had no clue how you should proceed. You nervously bit your lip, continuing your way with no plan.

You stopped two steps from him, opening your mouth and-- no words came out. You closed it again, clearing your throat.

“Captain Rogers, uhm…“

He glanced at you, seemingly surprised, as if he only acknowledged you now, when you were standing at arm’s length – well, his anyway. His blue eyes measured you, a bit confused until he looked around only to see no one else was here. How the hell did the guard miss him? Or had he left him here? Should you do the same?

"Sorry, I'm leaving," he whispered with a forced smile, sparing one more glance at the board. You did the same, your eyes landing on the date of birth of the soldier. Your heart sank. Oh. It was suddenly very clear whether you should leave Captain alone here or not; it was the anniversary of his best friend’s birthday.

"You don't... you don't have to,” you blurted out hastily, waving it off in a wannabe casual gesture. He tilted his head, confused. “I need to do some… administrative stuff anyway. Have your moment."

"Really? Bending the rules again?" he asked, the teasing coming out much less challenging than he probably intended. You shrugged.

"Only if it's okay with the Star-Spangled Man."

He lowered his gaze to the floor, but a tiny grateful smile played on his lips. "It is. Thank you."

"It's nothing."

"It's a lot. And... my name is Steve."

He peeked at you from under his unnaturally long eyelashes, his eyes saying more than his words or tone. You felt your heart jump nervously, blood rushing to your cheeks. He actually extended his hand for you to shake. His hand was freaking huge – yet, it closed around yours rather gently despite being able to crush your bones to dust or something.

"Nice to meet you… Steve. It's an honour." One corner of his lips rose higher at the note and you just wished to disappear into thin air before you would turn into a puddle of lovesick jelly with rapidly beating heart. You took your leave hastily, whispering over your shoulder. “Take your time.”

It was only few minutes later when you were dully staring at the computer screen on the counter that you realized you hadn’t even introduced yourself to the man you apparently had a crush on – you were fucking working at his exhibition, how had you missed that? You whimpered silently and resisted urge to bang your forehead against the desk.

Almost thirty minutes later, you really needed to leave and kick Capt— Steve out. You really, really didn’t want to do that. You had secretly hoped he would pass your desk during ‘administrative stuff’ time, but he hadn’t.

Approaching him by the very same board you had left him at, you felt like a monster.

“Lots of memories?” you tried out, minding to whisper so you wouldn’t startled him like the last time.

“Yeah, more than I can count. Mostly the good ones though. He saved me from getting beat to a pulp multiple times. Often dragged me out to dance, because he met a new girl and she was generous enough to bring a friend – not that she was interested in a guy who was barely reaching her shoulders,” he hummed, remembering his pre-serum times probably. There was nothing malicious or envious in his words. He seemed melancholic. “Bucky was a true ladies’ man.”

You couldn’t help but grin – sure, with Bucky’s looks and him being excellent at about everything, you could imagine. But it was a little different, hearing it from Captain America himself.

“Was he now?”

“Oh yes. The first time a beautiful woman looked at me rather than at him, he said he was living a nightmare becoming me.”

“He didn’t,” you whispered incredulously, silencing the giggle that wanted to escape your lips. Damn, some best friend he was; you were sure Bucky only had been teasing and it felt so casual, so normal, just two friends making fun of each other. It wasn’t exactly easy to imagine that when all you had ever heard were legends of their bravery.

Steve glanced at you with a corner of his eye. “He did.”

“That’s mean. What did you say?”

His smile grew wider. “Not to be sore about it, because she sure had a friend.”

You burst out laughing, feeling like Mr. Righteous suddenly stepped into a column of light which made him someone completely else. Cheeky. Mischievous. Friendly in the most common way. Human. Just a guy. Just a kid from Brooklyn.

“I take it I really need to leave now,” he noted, his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans as if he truly was a regular guy walking down the street. Unbelievable.

“Depends,” you hummed, not sure where that came from. “You have more fun facts like this to share? Or not funny ones, just interesting?”

He tilted his head curiously, examining you, trying to figure out whether you were serious.

“You won’t get into trouble?”

You shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“In that case, I actually do. Follow me, madam.”

An hour later, your cheeks hurt, your tear ducts were probably dried up completely and your head was full of so many new information it should hurt, but instead, it was just buzzing pleasantly. Also, you were sure you had a heart condition, because that constant flutter could not be healthy. You were tired, yet, you found yourself being disappointed that the special tour was ending.

"Okay, now I feel really sorry we don't do guided tours. I would be so popular..." you exclaimed, rewarded by a grin from Steve.

"It's a thing to consider. You should offer it to your boss."

You let out probably very unattractive snort. "Sure. And why would we wanna do that, miss? Because Captain America took me on a tour and told me very interesting details. He would probably want to run blood tests to check for drugs or something.... Thank you, Capt— Steve. I imagine it couldn't have been all easy."

"It's memories. It still... still feels more like home," he admitted and after so many rather light facts, you were reminded of just how heavy his destiny was.

"I can't imagine that. Waking up after seventy years. It's..."

"Insane?" he offered, eyebrow raised.

"I was gonna say ‘lonely’, but sure, ‘insane’ works. Everything has to be so different."

"It is. The progress of technology... I mean... just phones and computers. It's… a lot."

"Yeah... I wonder how much the world would change if I fell asleep for 70 years now. Theories? More like flying cars or a huge garbage bin like in Wall-E?"

"Wall-E?" he questioned, looking a bit confused. Only then it hit you – he probably hadn’t seen it.

"Oh, right. It's an animated film set in the future. A robot named Wall-E is on Earth, searching for a sign of life, fauna, flora, anything, while the rest of humanity is on a huge spaceship. Not your typical Pixar movie. I remember seeing it as a kid and being bored out of my mind when the first twenty minutes was just the robot moving between trash and occasionally saying ‘Wall-E’. It gets better though. Still, it's pretty far from movies like Finding Nemo."

"…I don't know what that is either.”

"Dude! You gotta check out Finding Nemo!" you called out, half outraged, half excited. Then you froze. "I mean— sorry. Jesus, I just called you a dude-"

What was wrong with you? You had had troubles to switch from Captain to Steve, and now he was a dude? Talk about respect, young lady…

But Steve just laughed at you, a full-belly laugh with his head thrown backwards and it was so normal and relaxed that you found yourself starring incredulously and possibly a little bit in love.

"That's okay, really. You got very excited."

"It's an amazing movie! Do you... do you catch up with pop culture?" you asked, honestly curious.

Seventy years’ worth of books, movies, TV series, music, theatre… wow. You couldn’t imagine that.

"I'm trying," he admitted, pulling out a small notebook and a pen. For a split second, you thought he was gonna give you his phone number, which was ridiculous of course. He wrote something down, smiling. "Now I have other tips.” Now that made more sense. “Do they still play that?"

"Yeeeah... no. Not by a long shot. You can always downlo— how does Captain America feel about downloading stuff from the internet? I mean..."

"That's like... putting it into your computer without paying a single dollar, right?" he asked, just to be sure. It was cute.

"Yep. Which I don't do. At all."

His laugh was more subtle this time, but his eyes were locked with yours, causing you butterflies, so there was that. "Well, Captain America is very disappointed in you. Steve understands."

"Thanks, Steve. Is it offensive to say that it somehow matters to me more?"

"Not really."

His eyes shined and his smile was wrapping you in a soft warm blanket and you knew that if there was something you definitely didn’t want it was saying goodbye and never seeing this man again. In flesh, that was, the exhibition didn’t count. Your mind raced.

"...I just got the craziest idea."

"If at first, the idea is not absurd, then there is no hope for it,” he quoted god knew who. You assumed it was a quote, not that you wanted to underestimate this wonderful man. “Hit me with it."

You gulped nervously. This was as terrible idea as it was an amazing one.

"There are old slide projectors in here, sure... but there are digital projectors too. If you... if you wanted to... have a cinema-like atmosphere, I can download the movie for you to watch it here,” you offered reluctantly, carefully observing his reaction. “Hell, we have a microwave in personal’s, I can even make popcorn!”

He blinked at you, the shiny baby-blues baffled.

“Or not. It's a silly idea-"

"No!” he protested quickly, smiling reassuringly at you. “It's... it sounds really nice. Do you think the guards would be... okay with that? You did mean after closing time, right?"

Did he just say yes?

"Yeah, of course! And yes, I mean... it would be for Captain America. How could they say no?"

His cheeks seemed to flush – but that must have been the lighting only, right? Captain America was not freaking blushing. Though he did look a bit timid. "You would really do that?"

"Sure. I mean... I can try."

"Alright — but only if it's not too much trouble. I wouldn't want you to have problems with your employer," he said sincerely, his eyes locked with yours again and your heart honest to god stopped.

Christ, was he trying to give you a heart attack?

“ ’kay,” you breathed, completely lost, mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze.

What was your name again?

“If I give you my phone number, will you text me when you would have time?”

It was official; you had died and went to heaven. An incredibly attractive man was standing in front of you practically shoving you his phone number and it might have been purely friendly, but still. Oh. My. God.

“Yep.”

Really? ‘Yep’?

He pulled out the notebook again, tearing one page and writing down the digits. You forgot how to breathe. This was really happening. He handed you the paper with a shy smile and whispered ‘here you go.’ When he added your name, you were about to swoon.

He wrote down not only the number, but his name too. You found it adorable, chuckling at that.

“You think I’m carrying lots of phone numbers in my pockets, Steve?” you teased him about it a little and he seemed confused at first, until something that was not a flirtatious smile for sure settled on his lips.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

Your breath caught in your throat, some inner voice screaming at you not to interpret it in a wrong way. Steve was a very nice person, that was a fact. He probably didn’t even realize how that sounded. Yeah, that was it.

You laughed it off. “Sure. Thanks, Steve, I’ll let you know. Hopefully, you won’t be busy.” Alright, backpedal, backpedal. “Thank you for the special tour, Captain.”

“You’re very welcome, ma’am,” he saluted and you chuckled silently. Who was this guy? Did you imagine this? Were you high? Maybe you really needed the blood tests… “Have a good night-- you need a ride?”

You almost choked on your own spit. BACKPEDAL.

Oh yes, you could use a ride. Whatever that meant.

You smiled awkwardly. “Uhm… no thank you. Goodnight, Steve.”

He returned the goodbye with a tiny smile.

You held the delighted shriek inside until five minutes passed since the door closed behind him.

You were in so much trouble.

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Part 2 (final)

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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart

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Awww, this one is an oldie of mine. Even more fluff than usual and that’s saying something...

#marvel #fanfiction #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #captain america exhibit #fluff #lessons in rule-breaking #anika ann

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thomas-reynolds · 4 years ago

Text

CAUGHT UP // 001

WHO: Griffin x Jamie x Thomas WHERE: The apartment. TW/NOTES: Nsfw. Griff and Tommy-boy come home early from the bar thanks to Griffin’s heavy drinking, and catch Jamie in the act with some dude. Things get heated and not in the fun way, and they end up a little worse for wear.

JAMIE ::

"My place doesn't work." Those four fateful words would normally leave Jamie shrugging and moving on to the next guy. It was a night out, after all, and he didn't have to take home the first hot guy he found. But this one was so hot. Taller than him, but just slightly. Bright blue eyes and a come and get me grin. Maybe it was more the attitude than the looks, and maybe James had downed one too many gold rushes. Maybe it was the fact that it was the beginning of summer, and hot was taking on multiple meanings here. James couldn't put his finger on what the hell it was that made him say these bolds words, but he heard himself saying them all the same. "Let's go back to my place." A husky whisper in the other guy's ear, and the two of them tumbled out of the club and into a cab.

Jamie lost his shirt at the front door, a solid thud echoing through the place as he was backed against it, and then a moan as his hookup- David? Daniel? kissed along his neck, his hands moving lower. "Don't leave a mark." He was already living dangerously. Odds were that Thomas and Griffin wouldn't randomly end up coming back home, but you could never be too careful. Now that he'd gotten that one stipulation out of the way, it was all too easy to let go and focus on the feelings. This would only ever happen once, and since he was already damned anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

More clothes were shed as they made their way to a bedroom. He didn't stop to shut the door, his hands too busy roaming Daryl's body to think of such a mundane detail. He didn't need to prepare himself much before he situated himself on top, sinking down onto the beautiful man's cock and thoroughly enjoying the view. He was close when everything went south. It was nice, having the place to himself, not needing to bother with being quiet. He was breathing hard by this point, choosing expletives that he wouldn't be caught dead saying in church instead of accidentally moaning the wrong name.

GRIFFIN ::

Getting kicked out of a bar was not new for Griffin Rollins, but getting kicked out just after nine o’clock was impressive. Or embarrassing, if he had any shame left, but he didn’t seem to, not with the way Thomas’ lecture was just rolling off his back. He could probably recite the speech back to him at this point - y’know, when he could string a sentence together without slurring. It probably meant something that the barkeep knew to call Thomas - his roommate, yes; his buddy, sure; but decidedly not a loved one, not his significant other - but that was the nice thing about being this hammered: Griffin could blissfully ignore all the flashing neon signs from the universe that he was, in fact, still a fuck-up.

That same universe was spinning by the time the men reached their front door, the dark-haired one making a valiant effort to retrieve his keys only for his hand to be impatiently batted away. As they stepped into their place, Griffin moaned out a curse - or, he thought he did, but it didn’t sound like himself. And it was coming from the wrong direction.

His eyes flashed over to Thomas’ face, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, and he looked as far from happy as he had when he’d showed up at the bar, but now the daggers weren’t being directing at Griffin. The blonde was looking past him, and it took a carefully-executed turn to discover what he was looking at: a naked hottie riding a cock in Pearson’s bed. Griffin’s liquor-fogged mind took what felt like an eon to realize that was bad, for two reasons. 1) The naked hottie was not Thomas’ sister, and 2) The naked hottie was Pearson.

Griffin’s fingers immediately fisted in the front of Thomas’ shirt, partially in an attempt to keep him exactly where he was, and partially to keep himself upright. “Hey, hey, Tommy, hey -”

THOMAS ::

Getting the call shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. After all, Thomas took more phone calls regarding Griffin’s health and well-being than he’s sure Griffin’s own mother ever took. Picked him up from enough bars, enough gutters, even football practice when they were teens and his mom conveniently ‘forgot’ him at the school. Typically, Thomas wore the eternal baby-sitter badge like a medal of honor - used it to badger and annoy Griffin into some semblance of shame when he was even a modicum of sober. Now though, when Thomas himself had been getting his feet wet at the bar, a young brunette with too dark lipstick and overly straightened hair, but big enough breasts to be worth his effort practically hanging off of his arm - now it was annoying.

Even when it was more tolerable, Thomas didn’t let Griffin think otherwise anyway, but still. The point still stands, he thought, staring at the doors of a crusty old bar that screamed ‘burn your clothes when you leave here’ and definitely had enough bikers and hookers outside to make your grandmother faint on impact. Convincing the bouncer to not knock his friend’s head in was simple enough, it was actually the waitress whom Griffin palmed on the way out that seemed to cause the most trouble - and by the time they were on the way back to the apartment, drunken hands pulling at the collar of Thomas’ shirt (and stretching out the goddamned hole), Thomas had almost begun his ranting on auto pilot.

A little, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Like a fucking gutter rat. What the fuck were you drinking anyway? You smell like fucking paint-thinner --” The words died on Thomas’ lips, cheeks, ears and chest heating in a way that would make him worry that he’s finally going six feet under (and maybe he is, if his blood pressure could go any higher), and it reminded him of the time he got incredibly crossfaded at Brittany Deering’s party back in 10th grade and blacked out in her bathtub for a few hours, barely avoiding being puked and pissed on by fellow students in the same position as him. It took him entirely too quickly, Thomas’ body moving on its own accord, Griffin’s hands pawing at him like a cheap stripper, and Pearson’s wide open door looked like a gateway to Heaven, or at the very least a convenience store with the automatic slider-doors jammed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas’ voice didn’t sound like his own, but he supposed that it was difficult to even hear properly with all of the blood rushing through his ears, “I will kill you.” The thump in his chest had nothing to do with the fact that his best friend was clearly cheating on his sister with some...some fruity weirdo with floppy hair and stupidly blue eyes, but he was bound and determined to ignore that little fact - ignore the voice that said just tell him already and instead, encouraged the one that said, he’s got a nice neck for strangling.

“This is what you do when we’re not here? Fool around with discount Matthew McConaughey?” It definitely wasn’t a snarl, if you asked Thomas, but the clenching fist at his side, the one not hanging onto Griffin’s half-dead body, promised something lethal.

JAMIE ::

“Fuuuuck-“ turned into “Oh, fuck” entirely too quickly for Jamie’s liking. He was off that dick quicker than he’d moved in a long time. Hastily looking over his shoulder and seeing Thomas’ face twisted in rage should have killed his hard on in an instant, but it didn’t. He’d blame that on how hot Damon was and how far along into their hookup they’d been. “Fuck off Thomas, you two were supposed to be out, anyway!” He stepped into his underwear quickly, pulling on a pair of pants hastily as well. “What the fuck?” Danny was dazed, understandably confused that all of the sudden their hookup for two was now a foursome. Then, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No!” James replied immediately, forcing a look of disgust at the mere thought of it. Or at least, his best attempt. “You need to go.” There was no salvaging this hookup, unfortunately, and he was just glad that he’d managed to make it to his own room so sweatpants were readily available. Damian had apparently gotten the point and was quickly getting redressed as well. Thomas was still mad, and honestly it was probably best to just let him be mad instead of trying to placate him. Trying that would only make it worse. Nah, he was gonna let the anger run its course and then let it go. But then it hit him, and all the color drained from his face. “You can’t tell her.” The thought of that happening made him want to throw up, and he moved a little closer, eyes wide and a little scared even as he tried to hide it. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam, and it doesn’t even count, you wouldn’t have known because you two were supposed to be out!” His gaze turned accusingly to Griffin for a second, and it didn’t take long to piece together what had happened. “And besides, Griffin is drunk, clearly we have bigger problems to worry about.” Yeah, pull focus. Dawson could sneak out while the two of them had a serious talk with Griffin about substance use. Jamie’s gaze flashed to Griffin again. He couldn’t decide which one of them to look at at this point. Griffin was most likely to take his side here, so he probably shouldn’t have just thrown him under the bus.

GRIFFIN ::

Griffin managed a small, two-finger salute to Jamie’s date as he passed by, clothing in his arms - or maybe it looked like he was putting a gun to his own temple, which also seemed applicable. His eyes followed the stranger’s naked ass until it disappeared into the bathroom, just in time to detect his name tumbling into this shitshow. “‘m always drunk,” he shot back in what he genuinely believed to be a solid defense. “Dsn’t count.”

God, he just wanted to be on a horizontal surface, even if it was Jamie’s bed of iniquity, and he considered making a move toward it until his last brain cell insisted that his deadweight was likely the only thing keeping Thomas anchored in place. If he could just defuse this disaster of a situation, he knew the blonde would get him into his own bed. Or the couch. Or at least onto the kitchen floor with a towel for a blanket.

“Tommy, Tommy, TommyTommyTommy, listen ... listen t’ me ... your sisterdsn’t have a dick!” he offered, finally releasing the other man’s shirt in order to wave his hands in a messy what’re-ya-gonna-do gesture. By his incredibly flawed, alcoholic logic, if Pearson wanted to fuck a dude - and understandably so, dudes being as hot as they were - he couldn’t go to Thomas’ sister. No harm, no ... whatever.

THOMAS ::

Thomas steadily ignored his own feline-reminiscent hiss as Hunky Brewster walk-of-shame’d his way out of their apartment, passing it off as some sort of controlling his temper, or silently letting out a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in but heard enough about from Jamie. The heat turned to ice in the pit of his glorious, god-like abdomen after every single ‘Tommy’ that left his friend’s mouth, “Griff, shut your fucking mouth -- and you,” He practically spit, pulling both himself and Griffin closer to the blonde in the bedroom like a boat and a buoy toward the middle of a storm, “It’s not cheeeeeeating as long as you don’t get caaaaught.” Thomas mocked his friend as the storm seemed to settle inside of his own chest, thunder and lightning begging to be let out through some sort of violence.

“I’m going to kick your ass - and then, I’m going to call my sister, and she’s going to come over here and kick your ass, you stupid, useless moron.” The dark feelings seemed to bubble and burst all in one quick second, and if Thomas could have taken a breath and really looked at the situation for what it was, and the jealousy that seemed to eat at him, the conflict likely could have been avoided. But the thick stench of sweat and alcohol from Griffin, and the same aroma from Jamie’s room seemed to override any sort of consideration that Thomas could have provided. And with that, he dropped Griffin like a sack of fucking potatoes and darted for Jamie’s face, hissing when his hit landed. Thomas was too busy cradling his knuckles to know if he’d even hit his damned target, but the swelling would be worth it if he’d gotten to cause Jamie some sort of agony he’d have to live for the next few days too. Once the blind rage passed and Thomas was left shaking, clutching his wrist like grandmother’s prized fucking pearls, he finally bit words for Griffin instead, “I don’t care that my sister doesn’t have a goddamned dick - she’s - he spouts all of this holier-than-thou bullshit that he doesn’t even follow! He just committed sodomized, pre-marital sex! And he wasn’t even on top!”

The words felt hysterical, and the laughter that left Thomas wasn’t one filled with any sort of joy; it was hollow and empty, or maybe not empty, but only filled with envy and anger. He darted for Jamie again, hissing between his teeth.

JAMIE ::

James wasn’t sure when he realized that there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thomas this pissed, and that was saying something. Hell, in the past, he’d helped talk Thomas down from being this pissed at someone else. Now the fury was totally directed at him, and he fought the instinct to move back as Thomas dragged himself and Griffin closer. He wasn’t a coward. “It’s not cheating if I don’t even know his name!” It was. It absolutely was, but he’d learned from the best how to navigate with a broken moral compass. This was quite literally a situation of how what someone didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He’d done this for years, from hurried hookups behind the bleachers to an empty dugout, sneaking out at midnight and meeting someone he’d used to go to Sunday school with. It was a sin, sure, but he wasn’t gay. He went to confession after every incidence, and he was forgiven. It was just that simple.

“Don’t,” he warned, his expression going from worried to murderous. “Tell her, Thomas, and I swear to God.” Might as well add taking the Lord’s name in vain. Today couldn’t possibly be any worse. In that moment, the bubble burst. It occurred to him briefly that Thomas could have set Griffin down nicely, but then it was too late as he felt pain exploding across his cheek. Thomas packed a pretty decent punch, even if he didn’t much look like it. For the moment, he resigned himself to it, didn’t hit back even though his fist balled up by his side and he wanted to. He’d stumbled back after the initial punch, but he regained his footing. And then Thomas was talking again, listing off all the big sins, sins that were meant to be kept in private, in the confessional booth, just him and the priest. That alone made him itch with rage, but he held back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really want to hurt Thomas. But then he laughed and it all went to hell. He surged forward at the same time Thomas did, and they collided. “Fuck. You!” He threw the next punch, hoping to land a matching shiner, putting his full force behind it. He didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t count as pre-marital,” he growled, “if it’s not a possibility to marry.” He still couldn’t make himself use the right pronoun.

GRIFFIN ::

Now, granted, he had been wanting to lie down, but hurtling to the hardwood without any warning hadn’t exactly been ideal. Griffin laid there, still more or less grateful to be off his feet, listening to an argument that probably would have seemed a fuckton more intense if it hadn’t sounded so underwater. He even missed the first punch, arm thrown over his eyes as he willed the room to knock it off with the spinning - but he did here the telltale sound of two bodies colliding, and forced himself up onto his elbows. And then onto his knees. And then onto his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey -“ The man had exactly one word in his vocabulary at the moment, which he repeated as he stumbled over to a mound of limbs made up of his two best friends. He was already pushing it, with the walking, but the attempt to pull one of the guys off the other almost knocked him right back of his feet. He survived, though - until a rogue fist that may or may not have been meant for him caught him right in the gut. He reeled back, taking one, two, three steps towards the door before doubling-over and vomiting in the corner of Jamie’s room.

Well, it had been inevitable. At least now that part of the night was over. “HEY.” There he was. Still just as unsteady on his feet, but with renewed frustration, Griffin threw himself back into the mix.

THOMAS ::

"You probably wish you could! I'm pretty fantastic!" Thomas screamed over the man, attempting to shove Jamie, and petulantly ignoring Griffin until the guy practically took an arrow for him, projectile vomiting in the same space as them. "Nice fucking job - punching the fucking drunk. Want to talk to God about that too? You like things in your ass and you hit your best friend!"

Griffin managed to get between them and Thomas couldn't help the muttered, "You fucking reek, dude-" that left him, his arm reaching out to swing wildly at Jamie over the other man's shoulder. How ridiculous, they must have looked, three grown men throwing punches and shouting expletives at one another in the middle of the night. If the neighbors banging on the wall were anything to go by, they probably agreed with him.

"Don't touch me - don't you fucking," Thomas hissed as a spare slap managed to get him right in the nose, rust immediately dripping over the bottom portion of his face, "I'm going to tell her so fucking hard, you son of a bitch," He whined around the hand cupping his nose and mouth, practically shielding himself with Griffin's larger body. "I can't stand you two - I - it smells like shit in here," The babbling continued, even though he really couldn't smell anything with his nose full of blood clots.

JAMIE ::

“I was on top!” Jamie insisted, shoving back at Thomas. He really hadn’t intended to punch Griffin, but he was the one who’d ended up throwing himself in between the two of them. What did he think was going to happen. “I was aiming for you, asshole!” His blood was really boiling right now, and Jesus, how had this night managed to go so horribly wrong? It had started out hot and fun and devolved into, well, whatever this shit show was.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned as he heard Griffin lose his dinner in the corner of his room. Add that to the list of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d be cleaning it up, of course, because Griffin clearly wasn’t in any state to, and he didn’t want his room to smell like puke while he waited for Griffin to sober up and handle it. The one last slap was admittedly satisfying, but he had to calm down. He had bigger problems on his hands. He had to convince Thomas not to tell her.

It occurred to him way too quickly what he had to do, the only way he was going to appeal to Thomas’ sense of reason. “Fine!” He shouted numbly. “Tell her. But who else do you think is going to be with her? We break up, she ends up an old fucking spinster for the rest of her life. Is that what you want for her? Huh?” He gave one more shove to prove his point. “You tell her, and you break her fucking heart. And for what? Because I’m getting a little on the side that she can’t give me? I’m the perfect boyfriend, Thomas. She won’t get better than me, and you know it.”

GRIFFIN ::

Somehow managing to dodge what could have been a really unfortunate elbow, Griffin was perfectly content with standing between his roommates now that things had boiled over and resolved into a simmer; still hot, still able to burn, but not quite as active. The shouting, he was pretty desensitized to. Between the three of them, someone was perpetually shouting at the other two, or two were shouting at each other, or two were shouting at one (he was usually the one, and he was usually inebriated). It was a special occasion when the trio were all shouting, though, which is normally what got the neighbors involved. Griffin reached over to land his fist on the wall three or four times, acknowledging their neighbor’s participation.

His back was turned to Thomas, who, though taller, was probably less of a real physical threat. As a result, he missed the bloody nose, but he did catch sight of Jamie’s split lip and the scarlet mark that was going to bloom into one hell of a bruise. “Better tell ‘er ya got mugged,” he suggested, finally throwing over a glance over his shoulder to survey the damage that was Thomas’ face. “Botha you. Ah, fuck, are you bleedinon my shirt?!”

Griffin was quiet for the rest of Jamie’s tirade, mostly because this was not his fight, but also because he was on both of their sides, so far as thinking the other was a royal fucking asshole. Kate was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he didn’t love the idea of her getting fucked over, but he would have been smart enough to not let an asshole like James anywhere near her to start with. And furthermore, he’d mean what he’d said, inarticulate as it may have been; monogamy was a societal construct, sexuality was a spectrum, and this was probably the best case scenario for both of them, really. Kate got to seriously level up in the boyfriend department, and Jamie got a doting woman on his arm for the sake of appearances.

“I think,” he opined on a big sigh, running a hand through his hair as though he was going to lay down some actual wisdom - but that wasn’t his brand. “I think that we should get nachos.”

THOMAS ::

Clicking his tongue, Thomas swished the copper around in his mouth, glaring daggers at his roommate. He probably looked like he'd been bobbing for apples in fake blood at this point, but it felt oddly satisfying to look a little deranged compared to his normal well-kempt state. "Should I let her be with a cheater and a liar anyway? Yeah, real fucking smart, asshole --" Even with Griffin's knocking effectively breaking the tension, the neighbors yelling back through the wall, there was something still boiling under the surface.

Something volatile, something that went by the name Jade.

"You don't need any nachos," He murmured, somewhat numb, yet manic. Auto-pilot had taken over, his palm running over his face, and Thomas wiped the mess on the back of Griffin's shirt. Eyes never leaving Jamie's, Thomas slowly slipped forward face impassive, blank. "One more thing," Oddly calm, Thomas reached out with a gentle, blood-smeared hand and laid the palm of it on Jamie's shoulder. He let the moment settle, let the silence take over for a moment, until it was bordering on confusing, before throwing himself forward and headbutting the man in turn, immediate pain blossoming behind his forehead, and spraying them both with his now-unclotted nose. "Bitch," he snarled under the waterfall of blood, before groaning and taking a hasty step back toward his drunken friend, ready to use him as a shield again if need be.

JAMIE ::

"Why, so you can throw 'em up in a different part of my room?" He usually had the decency to at least make it to a communal space, and yeah, James was still a little pissed that he needed to be taken home at all when the two of them had planned to be out and about for the night. It was a valiant effort, trying to get the two of them back on the same side so they could stop with the arguing, but deep down, Jamie knew this wasn't the kind of fight that Thomas would just get over. He'd fucked up, big time, and now instead of facing the music, he was doubling down. It had all seemed so innocent, harmless even, when it was just him and the flavor of the night. If what's his name that started with a D hadn't been so fucking hot, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.

He ventured a glance at Thomas, partially hating himself for the fact that he'd messed up such a pretty face, but a small little part of himself was satisfied at the damage done. Served him right. How fucking hard would it have been to just turn around and go somewhere else for ten minutes? By that point, the hookup would have been kicked out, and they could all pretend that it had never happened. Jamie could have been blissfully ignorant, and honestly, that was one of the most underrated states a person could be in.

When Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, he tried to keep his expression neutral. As much as he hated to admit it, that hand on his shoulder had grounded him many times in the past, and its presence was all tied up with feelings of comfort and safety, feelings he definitely wasn't getting just now. Sure as shit, next came the sucker punch in the form of a headbutt, and the "Ow!" was almost equal parts pain and surprise. "Asshole!" he groaned, and he couldn't even get to him without Griff getting involved again. "Griffin, just get out of here. This is between me and him, and some of us can't take a hit." Unfortunately for him, all of the hits were starting to take a toll.

GRIFFIN ::

“Ahhrgh, God damn it,” he growled as he felt Thomas’ hand smear his bodily fluids down his back, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before yanking his shirt off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it out into the hall. At least the blonde’s shirt was just as fucked, he noticed, attention on the slightly taller man as he approached James. Good, fine, Thomas would say his final piece and then everyone could just - “Fuck!”

Before he could fully process the sudden movement and the accompanying spray of gore, Thomas has slipped behind him and he was staring down Jamie, the youngest of their dysfunctional little crew. “C’mon, Jay, jus-go lay down,” he muttered, intending to give a good-natured push to the kid’s chest, but still intoxicated enough to not know his own strength. The adrenaline he didn’t realize had been streaming through his system turned it into a fully aggressive shove, and Griffin felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as some part of him anticipated retaliation. Blue eyes flashed. “Go ta’ bed, Jamie.”

THOMAS ::

"Suck my dick, Pearson--" Dark pupils dilated at the shove, watching with intense interest. It wasn't often that Jamie and Griffin disagreed wholeheartedly, or at the very least enough to get into a physical altercation. Usually it was Thomas gravitating toward the violence, toward harsh words that stung and bit at insecurities - usually he was the flint and steel basking at either of his friends' heels.

Still, it ignited something in him, to see Griffin shove the younger man, even if unintentionally. While they all agreed to disagree at who really was whose best friend, Thomas liked to believe he was just as much of a fire as he was the glue keeping them together. "You shoved him, man," The words were weirdly tense, odd even to himself, in the quiet of the room. "You gonna take that?" Blue eyes flick to Jamie's.

JAMIE ::

For a second, he considered it. He wasn't going to just lay down, but getting himself to a different room, where they kept the cleaning supplies probably, and doing something else was probably the best way to handle this. But then he shoved him, hard, as if to make sure to drive his point home. "Seriously?" he demanded, his own gaze accusing.

"You're seriously gonna take his side? I woulda come to get you too, and then none of this would have happened." He shoved back, not knowing or caring if Thomas was close enough to catch him. "You go to bed. I have someone else's mess to clean up, as usual." The puke in the corner of the room wasn't going anywhere, after all.

GRIFFIN ::

As he stumbled back into Thomas, Griffin’s ego maintained that he never would have budged if he’d been sober. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t; really, how often was he truly sober, so there wouldn’t be exactly an opportunity to find out. If he’d been sober, he also probably wouldn’t have lunged for Jamie, taking him out at the waist and forcing him to collapse onto his own mattress. “Said, LAY DOWN,” he repeated, scrambling to straddle the man’s hips, and trying to grab at his wrists. “Enough!”

The word was paired with a death glare to Thomas, who may not have been pinned under him, but only because it was physically impossible for Griffin to sedate both of them at once. “You’re both douchebags!”

“I called you,” he muttered after a moment, still slap-fighting James for submission. “You were busy.” It was completely lost on the brunette, of course, that his current position wasn’t terribly different from the way they’d stumbled upon Jamie a few minutes before.

THOMAS ::

Despite the urge to cover his throbbing nose from any more of the crossfire, Thomas stood back from the other two men, eyes dark and irritable. Thomas was the reliable one - was the man you called when you needed someone to get you out of a mess, or pick you up at the bar on a Friday night at 9pm because you were so drunk you couldn't see straight. He was the ultimate provider, the best friend any guy could ask for. Clearly, Griffin appreciated that more than Jamie.

"Am I interrupting?" He blinked his eyelashes prettily, words mocking as they left his lips. His shirt was the only one left on, and it was...incredibly sticky at that point, if he was being honest. With a grimace, he plucked at the collar, hissing when his hand came away sore. He would be bruised and battered, and rough the following day - no amount of cover-up was going to suffice to hide the giant bowling ball of a bruise on his head, or the massive swelling of his nose. He'd talk like a fucking Lollipop Guild member for a week at this rate.

"I went to pick up this clown while you were out here blowing some guy." Thomas stuck his chin up, defiant despite the angry look sent to him by Griffin, who was oddly being the sensible one (not that Thomas would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.)

JAMIE ::

James was honestly taken aback by Griffin's sudden lunge in his general direction. He was stupidly effective for being drunk, and Jamie wanted to be mad about it, but he was suddenly distracted by how Griffin was just on top of him like this. He blamed that on the surprise of it all as well. Griffin never would have gotten him into this position if James had seem him coming.

Ignoring the insult, he frowned when Griffin mentioned that he had called him. "Well, what the hell." He could have sworn he would have noticed a phone call from his best friend, but apparently hookup's dick game was too strong. Usually he was much more reliable than this. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he said, and the only reason that Griffin was still on top of him was because he didn't want to hurt him on accident. Again.

His face hurt and he wanted to either drink or take some ibuprofen or both and clean up the fucking mess that was still in the corner of his room. "Christ, get off me, Griffin." Why was he the one being restrained instead of Thomas? Thomas started this shit. He gave a considering expression before going for Griffin's ticklish spot instead, hoping the sudden distraction would give him some leeway to get out from under him and back toward his original target who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own damn life. "I didn't blow him, I was on fucking top!"

GRIFFIN ::

If he’d been able to read the other man’s thoughts, he probably would have chuckled, the low one that was particularly disarming when it was paired with his trademark sideways smirk. Sure, they’d blame it on the “surprise” and not the decade of running tackle drills before and after school, five days a week. Drunk as he was, muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

That, and puking up a stomach full of bourbon.

“Wash up, look like a fuckin’ horror movie,” Griffin ordered in Thomas’ general direction, not moving a muscle, not just yet. If the two of them were going to lunge at each other again, he could sit right there all night - or at least until the hazy, spinny kind of sleep that went along with being this sloshed came to claim him. “You, jus’ stop talking,” he muttered, quieter considering that James was only so far away from him. “Nobody cares ‘fya sucked a dick, Pearson.”

When he eventually slid from the younger man’s waist, Griffin moaned in relief at the feel of a mattress beneath him, bribing his body to move with the promise that if he stretched out just the slightest bit, he’d finally be able to close his eyes. “Why’s yer bed so nice?”

THOMAS ::

A flash of something dark flickered over Thomas' face, his struggle with authority desperately trying to rear its head. With a calming breath, he tried to pull that little voice inside of his head that sounded like his dumb, quack sister that reminded him about breathing exercises and adrenaline. After counting to 10, Thomas gingerly pulled his collared shirt over his head, the polo wet with moisture and a stink of dried blood. Scrunching his nose, he dropped the offending garment into Jamie's hamper, on top of clothes probably covered in some dude's jizz. "Looks like you have a roommate tonight," He pointed out helpfully, making his way toward the bathroom.

He was back a quick moment later, having procured the small cleaning caddy from under the bathroom sink, including the hand-held spot cleaner. It was uncanny, how many times they'd had to clean up 90% alcohol-vomit, and Thomas hated that he'd grown so used to it after 15-odd years of knowing these morons. "Take your shoes off, you heathen," Thomas spit at Griffin without much effort behind it, focused instead on cleaning the puddle out of the corner of Jamie's room.

After scrubbing for a few odd minutes, and one glare in Griffin's direction later, Thomas picked himself back up, knees aching with the effort of the movement. He was getting old. He stored the cleaning products back in the cabinet and found himself leaning against the doorframe when he re-entered the room. "What food do you want, Griff?" Thomas asked, placated and quiet after the fall-out of so much drama. Getting his face bashed in was a reset button, apparently. Annoying, but effective. "I'm not dealing with the whininess when you're hung over tomorrow."

JAMIE ::

"He started it," James muttered in response when Griffin told him to stop talking. It was juvenile, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing could have been avoided about six ways to Sunday. If Griffin hadn't gotten drunk, if Thomas hadn't immediately started raging about it, if he hadn't brought someone home in the first place. It was pretty clear that they were all partially to blame for this shit show, but the petty side of him wanted to be the one that ended it.

He still had no idea if Thomas was going to tell Kate, but that seemed like a problem for future Jamie. For now, he just wanted to wallow in his failed hookup. He figured that since he hadn't even gotten the chance to get off from this one, there wasn't really a need to do any sort of confessional. Jamie scoffed at Griffin's next words. God cared if he sucked a dick, which also, he hadn't. "Don't tell anyone." These words were directed at both of them, quiet, yet deeply meaningful. He didn't know what he'd do if people found out. Hell, his two best friends had just found out, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.

Jamie had no idea where Thomas was going when he headed out of his room, and a part of him wondered if he was going to make that phone call. Anxiety prickled all over his body, and he had to remind himself to breathe. A moment before he was going to get up and follow him, Thomas came back with the cleaning supplies. A begrudging "Thanks," rolled off his lips as he sat up in bed to address Thomas' next words. Rolling onto his knees, he took off one shoe and tossed it out into the hallway, landing with a thunk. The other came next, tossed in the same general direction. "PB&J?" he asked Griffin, knowing that it'd be best to go for something easier on the stomach.

GRIFFIN ::

This was how the world worked for Griffin Rollins, the way it had always worked. He did what he wanted to do, it made a fucking mess, he smiled and fumbled his way into some unintentional wit, and it all ended up being taken care of ... usually by one of the two bloodied men who were currently milling around the room, no doubt accomplishing just that. He didn’t open his eyes to check. That was the way he preferred it, really; if he never fully noticed just how much other people did to save his ass time after time, he never fully needed to thank them.

“Nachooooos,” he moaned at the mention of food, knowing full well he’d likely pass out before anything that required delivery would arrive at the apartment. As it was, he was already slipping in and out of consciousness. The bed smelled like sweat and Jamie’s shampoo, the sortakinda expensive stuff he got frustrated at Griffin borrowing when his own had run out. It still came from the drug store, but from the higher shelf; not the 3-in-1 body wash bullshit that Griffin smeared through his own hair.

“Go shower,” he mumbled to both and neither of them.

THOMAS ::

With narrowed eyes, Thomas turned to retreat into the kitchen, slapping together a few hastily made sandwiches (which were still entirely too neat, cut diagonally into two separate pieces) and brought them back to the bedroom, just in time for Griffin to begin bossing him around again. "What, this isn't doing anything for you?" Thomas pointed to the bloody mess on his face, chest, and arms.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas passed Jamie the plate, their hands brushing as he released the paper to him. Always something unbreakable, when Griffin was involved. Thomas would have loved to frequently use real plates and cups, but when a bumbling, drunk idiot was constantly falling around your apartment, it was better to have something that couldn't accidentally kill you. "If anyone needs a shower here, it's you. The landlady lives 5 miles away and I'm sure she can smell you from here."

Despite his deflections, Thomas really did need a shower. His blood had become caked and sticky on his skin, drying into flakes that made him want to scratch at his skin like a mangy dog. "Just...eat." With a tired sigh, Thomas ran a bruised hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just a moment. How did he always end up back here?

:: END ::

#001 #gjt

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ontherockswithsalt · 5 years ago

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This is a request for Joble fluff. Please? Anything to see the boys happy. 😭

I hear you! I wrote this and it fits into the future Penthouse universe and it’s what happens when Noble’s guacamole-making is called into question.

“Smells good!” I announce, making my way through the door of our apartment. I stop in the kitchen and set a bag on the counter where Noble moves to check the pan that’s sizzling on the stovetop. “I got twelve,” I tell him, moving in at his side to greet my boyfriend with hand between his shoulder blades. “So I hope the majority of them are usable. Hi.”

Looking over, he lands a kiss on the angle of my cheek and murmurs, “Hi, baby.” Then with a shake of his head, he returns to his pan. “This may be the most trust I’ve ever put in you, Jay.”

“I know.” I tease him with a squint. “Just blind faith that I can pick a good avocado.”

Noble huffs and cuts me a look like he’s not interested in my easy tone as I leave his side.

“Lucky for you,” I remind him. “I’m adept under pressure.”

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters as he gets to a stopping point to come check my grocery purchases. Opening the bag, he takes the avocados out, one by one, testing them for the perfect balance of give and firmness.

I realize I’m holding my breath for his approval as I just stand beside him and watch him press his thumb against the skin.

“Mm-hm-mm-hm-mm-hm--” He hums, all serious about his inspection. Then he sets down the last of them with a relieved exhale. “You did good. Come here.”

Wrapping an arm around my neck, he tugs me closer and his mouth captures mine.

I have to laugh into the kiss as I steady him with hands on his sides. His serious resolve amuses me but when he sent me a text before I left work to ask if I could get a shit-ton of avocados on my way home because the ones he got from the deli on 49th were garbage, I knew I couldn't let him down.

We’re hosting a party tonight. And it all started when Vinny made a passing comment one night that his guacamole is the best anybody’s ever had. Naturally, Noble couldn’t just let him claim such an honor and after an innocent back-and-forth that I knew was actually burning Noble’s insides a little, they decided the only way to settle it was with a competition.

So now here we are, hosting a taco night for a dozen or so people at our apartment who will all be casting their votes for the official best guacamole.

Noble punctuates the end of his kiss when he reaches down to smack his palm on my ass and moves past me. “I’m pretty sure those are winners.”

“So you’re alright?” I check. “On the phone, you sounded stressed.”

“I’m not stressed.” He returns to his work station at the counter while I clean up a little around him.

“Okay, good because it’s supposed to be fun.”

“I’m just reconsidering my recipe.”

“What’s there to reconsider?”

“You think Vinny uses cilantro?”

I laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Think you could find out?”

“We don’t exactly sit and compare guacamole recipes, babe. Besides, with the contest, he probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. And doesn’t everyone use cilantro?”

“Not necessarily.”

“I say… make it the way you always make it, and you’ll win.”

“But you’re gonna vote for me, right?”

“Of course I’m gonna vote for you,” I assure him. “But it’s a blind tasting. No one will know whose is whose. I think there’s like, six people bringing guacamole. But I’m pretty sure I can figure out which one is yours.”

“I’ll know which one is mine--”

“You can’t tell me. That’s not a fair competition.”

“Ugh.” He looks at me over his shoulder, a disappointed pull between his brows.

I smirk at his drive to win no matter what. “Isn’t it a more satisfying win if the vote’s not rigged?”

“I’m not rigging it--”

“You would if you could.”

“Sounds like conspiracy which I’ve never had anything to do with.”

Smiling, I pass behind him, leaving a squeeze at his waist. “Then keep that record clean. And win the honorable way.”

“Oh-ho--” He chuckles. “Get outta here before I get turned on from that kind of challenge.”

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” I decide.

“How do I know you aren’t working for Nick?” Vinny questions, a hand on Scott’s chest to stop him, just as he’s setting out the last serving dish on our table.

Scott holds up an honest hand. “I am impartial. I don’t have a dog in this fight since I don’t eat guacamole. But only I know whose is whose and I want to ensure a fair contest. So!” He announces, turning to address the crowd in our living room. “The guacamole contenders are now available for your scrutiny. I’ve put all the entries in new bowls so no one can tell from the container who brought it. They’re labeled one through six, and the person who made it, I’ve put their name in a sealed envelope that matches their number.”

“Wow.” My eyes widen to tease him for the effort and Scott points an accusing finger at me.

“You know you appreciate the cutthroat vibe, Jamie. Don’t act like you don’t.”

My brows jump because he’s right, I do appreciate the meticulous setup. “It’s impressive,” I admit, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m not knocking it.”

“Once you’ve decided on a favorite,” Scott continues his instructions. “There’s ballots over there at the end. You can only vote once!”

“And no giving clues,” Vinny pipes up, surveying the guests. “No one hanging out by the table influencing the votes.”

“Oh. My god,” Ben interjects from across the room. “There’d better be a cash prize for how serious you guys are being right now.”

"There is a prize," I speak up. "And it's a t-shirt, okay? So--"

Ben gasps dramatically. "I want the t-shirt."

"Nick, do you have anything to add?" Scott offers. "Since this is your house and all."

"Um. Help yourself to one of Ben's palomas at the bar. Or I'm happy to make you whatever, but definitely grab a drink. And over on the counter, the taco bar is ready. There's a little bit of everything. So yeah. And be sure you're… y'know, exploring all the flavors in the guacamole, considering the balance, the acidity--"

"Alright, hey!" Vinny cuts in. "Don't tell people how to vote. It's instinct."

Standing right beside him, Noble pushes his fist into Vinny's shoulder. "So please go eat." He laughs as everyone starts in along the table. "Buon appetito."

"Provecho, Nick," Vinny corrects him, steering the both of them away toward the cocktail station. "It's taco night, man. Show some respect."

"You're on my case tonight, detective." Noble complains, following alongside him.

"But for real, it all looks really good, brother."

"Well tell your mom thank you for making those tortillas," Noble tells him. "That'll put 'em over the top."

"Of course. Gotta go authentic."

"The question is, Vin, did your mom make the guacamole too?" I wonder. "Because if so--"

"Hey, no way, Reagan," Vinny points, making his way to the nearby cooler to help himself to a beer. "Like my mom would ever let me put my name on anything she made anyway."

---

"The votes have been tallied!" Scott calls out, turning from the desk at the edge of the living room where he had been diligently marking on a legal pad. He leans over, raising his voice enough to ensure the few people out on the fire escape heard him.

"Moment of truth," Vinny adds. With a clap of his hands, he rubs them together and leaves Noble and me in the kitchen while he heads closer to the rest of the party.

"By one vote," Scott begins like he's announcing the winner at the goddamn Oscars. "The winning guacamole is number four, which was…" Then he takes a moment to tear open the envelope marked with a #4 and pulls out the paper inside before he reads. "Vinny Cruz!"

"Oh hell yes!" Vinny cries while the rest of the living room goes overboard on their enthusiastic cheering for him.

I freeze with the rim of my beer bottle at my lips and feel my brow dip in confusion.

Noble tips his head back to groan up at the ceiling in defeat. "No!" He wails, then shouts, "Recount."

Vinny lets out a loud laugh as he makes his way over to Scott to accept his title.

"Oh, do we have the t-shirt?" Scott wonders.

“Yes, goddammit--” Noble grumbles as he heads to our bedroom and comes back with the t-shirt -- the one he had designed -- printed with an avocado on the front wearing a little crown.

Walking over to the front of the room, he presents it to Vinny who can’t help be smug about his victory.

“Who lost by one vote?” Noble questions.

“Number one.” Scott finds the #1 envelope and passes it over. Noble takes it, but he already knows it’s his name that’s in there.

He pulls out the paper to confirm it and Vinny claps for him anyway. “So close, man!” He teases.

Noble spreads his hands but shakes his head in defeat, flicking his slip of paper to the floor, as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Everyone shouts and Vinny holds his hand over his heart like he’s so touched.

Meanwhile, I’m still a little lost at how the votes shook out and I glance at Noble. “Wait, I thought number four was yours.”

“No.”

I avert my gaze, pulling from my beer once again, but I swear--

“Mine was the first one,” he explains. “You voted for number one, right?”

My brow furrows, still puzzled, when I finally meet his eyes again and admit my solemn truth. “I voted for number four.”

“You--” Noble blinks hard.

“I thought it was yours!”

“How could you think four was mine?”

“I--” My words stall and I lift my shoulders in defense. “It tasted just like yours!”

"Oh really? It had watery-ass tomatoes in it, but you thought that was mine? Sure."

I can't help but laugh and I turn to him, grasping onto his forearm to reassure him. "Honestly, they all pretty much tasted the same."

"Ha!" He squeaks in disbelief and my reasoning is obviously not doing me any favors. Noble tugs his arm from my grip, holds up his hands and walks the other way.

But he peers back at me over his shoulder to whisper, "You're a traitor."

"Stop," I chuckle.

"I thought you loved me." He's kidding but he's not as he throws in a dramatic "You don't even know me!"

---

"Feel better?" I wonder. I'm lighting a candle in our otherwise low-lit living room when I glance up to see Noble make his way out from having a shower.

"Yeah," he answers. "At least I don't smell like fish anymore."

I offer him a soft smirk and stand up straight to rest my hands low on my hips. After my shower, it was all I could do in this summer heat to put on a pair of boxers and a shirt. Studying him for a moment, dressed in a white t-shirt and gym shorts, I attempt to determine if his mood has improved. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

He moves in closer and finally sits down on the couch. Between the cooking and the party and the clean-up, he hadn't stopped moving all day. "Yes I'm still mad at you. I'll be mad at you forever and I'll never forget."

Tipping my head back, I have to smile at the ceiling as I come toward him. "Forever?"

"Mm-hm." He keeps his gaze off me and on the TV as he picks up the remote control.

"Damn," I mutter. "You might as well just leave my ass so you won't be burdened with such hostility--"

"Oh no no. That’s not how it works.”

“No?”

“No, I’ll just let my resentment simmer,” he explains. “And then subtly bring up your betrayal, just when you think I’ve dropped it, in this passive-aggressive way for the rest of our lives.”

I let out a loud laugh and step closer in front of him before I slide onto his lap, a knee on either side of his legs on the couch cushion. “Ohh, that sounds like the right way to deal with it.”

He tilts his chin up to look at me. “Yes, I know.”

I merely hum a rattled groan, dragging my touch to the sides of his neck, my thumbs stroking his cheeks as I lean down and dip my forehead there. “I’m sorry I’m such a traitor,” I murmur against the edge of his jaw.

He settles his gaze on me as I lift my head to look at him.

"I want to forgive you," he tells me, a meaningful pull of his eyebrows.

I scratch fingertips right at the base of his hairline and touch my lips to the edge of his jaw. "Please."

"But--" The way the bass of his voice rumbles in my ear makes me squeeze a handful of his hair. His hands betray his attempt at resolve when he tosses the remote aside and his palms skim the sides of my legs. "I also… kinda want to see your best efforts here so I'm gonna stay mad at you for a minute and see what you come up with."

Smiling against the curve of his throat, I press a soft kiss there. After a brief stroke of my tongue, I'm pleased when I feel him swallow and then my mouth finds his ear. "Okay good. Stay mad at me."

#joble fluff

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noconcernofyours · 5 years ago

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Pinning Down My Kind of Movie

Warning: Wanky, self-indulgent ramblings about Hollywood auteurs to follow

A couple of days ago, I sat down with my housemate to watch Miami Vice (2006) directed by Michael Mann (Heat, Collateral) and starring Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. Since we moved into our place, my housemate has gradually been exposed to my taste in movies, and the other day, sat in front of a strung-out Colin Farrell ordering mojitos to ‘Numb/Encore’ during an undercover sting, he finally confronted me with a crisis-inducing statement: “You know, I can’t figure out what your kind of movie is.”

If I am to be totally honest, it doesn’t take much to send me into an existential tailspin, but this observation got me thinking enough to want to sit down and write about it, so here we are. My name’s Daniel and I love movies! When I was a teenager, I was certain I wanted to be a film critic, so I started writing in earnest. The problem was I wasn’t that well rounded as a viewer. I confined myself to the world of comic book movies and Disney animation. I turned my nose up at pretty much everything else before realising that I didn’t actually know much or have much to offer about film. Instead, I turned to music criticism because that’s where my knowledge base is.

That being said, I still loved movies, and as the years have gone on, I have been rapidly expanding my film knowledge and broadened my horizons extensively. I got called a “film buff” for the first time recently, which really shocked me. I still don’t feel well-watched enough, or knowledgeable enough to fit a moniker like that. Maybe it’s imposter syndrome, but I really feel like I have a way to go yet.

My Letterboxd bio includes the phrase “admirer of film nerds”, and I think that admiration informs the entire way I look at the world of film. I read a lot of reviews and listen to a lot of podcasts by smart, unpretentious film obsessives like David Sims, Griffin Newman, Katey Rich, Karen Han and Bilge Ebiri, but that same admiration also informs the kind of films I enjoy the most. In confronting the statement from my housemate, I realised that while there are some genres I gravitate to more than others, my taste in movies is largely defined by the extent to which I can pick up on a single authorial voice driving the film. A director, writer, actor, composer or cinematographer who has a real, obsessive love for their craft whose influence and personality can be felt in every layer of a film’s construction. Franchises are a different beast, but it’s usually the entries in a franchise that feel like passion projects for individual filmmakers that I love the most, which is why Iron Man 3 is by far my favourite Marvel movie.

Over the last few months I’ve started building a fairly extensive Blu-Ray collection. I love physical media because I like to have a tangible representation of the art I love, but it also allows me to physically organise my thoughts about film rather than moving things around on a spreadsheet or in my head. It has also had an effect on how I watch films. Spending money on a film makes me feel more obligated to watch it through to the end in one sitting, to not be on my phone at the same time and to pay closer attention. It’s also made my approach to picking the films I watch more considered. I’ve been hunting down the films I haven’t seen by directors I love, fuelled by newfound completionism, and I’ve been subconsciously prioritising this kind of auteur-driven mindset in a way that has revealed, over time, who my favourite filmmakers are.

So, with that in mind, let’s transform this meandering, self-indulgent think piece into a meandering, self-indulgent listicle. Here are the filmmakers that have changed the way I watch movies:

Christopher Nolan

I know this is a bit of a film bro cliché, but I promise I’m not one of those film school douchebags who’s convinced they’re going to be the next great big budget auteur. Like a lot of other people my age, I discovered Christopher Nolan through the batman movies. I was taken to see The Dark Knight by my parents when I was 10 years old, not having seen Batman Begins, and it blew my mind. For years after that, I was one of those arseholes who had a terrible Joker impression that I whipped out at parties, until I became aware of the cliché and never did it again.

In the years since I’ve watched all of his other movies and gained a new love of Interstellar and The Prestige – movies that taught me a lot about the authorial voice and interweaving a central theme into every element of a film. I also learned that just because I find it annoying when the same tropes turn up in every Quentin Tarantino movie, recurring tropes throughout a filmmaker’s catalogue aren’t universally a bad thing.

The Coen Brothers

Representation is important. The tough thing about watching films from an auteur-driven perspective is that so many of the most important filmmakers in Hollywood are approaching their films from a white, Christian, male perspective. Scorsese is a particularly difficult director for me to appreciate because so many of his films are overtly informed by his Christianity. My Jewish identity is the most significant aspect of my identity, so naturally I’m always looking for films made from a Jewish perspective, overt or otherwise.

Whilst the Coen brothers don’t always make movies about explicitly Jewish characters or subject matters, their Jewishness always comes out in their writing, particularly in the totally undidactic way they approach the subject of faith in almost every film they’ve made. Their approach to God, fate, spirituality and religion is never one of moralising certainty, but rather a questioning one, which is a fundamental aspect of Jewish existence. I feel represented on multiple levels in the films of the Coen brothers, particularly in Inside Llewyn Davis which is my favourite film of the last decade, in ways that other directors could never manage. For the same reasons I will forever be excited about the potential of the Safdie brothers.

Stephen Spielberg

Whilst the Jewishness of Stephen Spielberg is a major attraction for me (Catch Me If You Can, his moody Christmas movie, comes across as weirdly Jewish to me), the thing that has solidified the guy as one of my favourite filmmakers is his approach to telling true stories. Unlike the Coen brothers, it’s Spielberg’s self-assuredness and didacticism that fuels my love of his work. His spate of recent, politically switched-on, historical dramas (Lincoln, Bridge of Spies and The Post) are all incredible achievements in effectively giving quiet dramas about people talking in rooms the tension and stakes of great action movies.

It’s the obvious thing to say at this point that Spielberg is one of the few genuine masters of the cinematic language, but while most will point to his massive, populist movies of the 80s and 90s as the definitive examples of that, I would point to his spottier late career with its moralising and earnestness as where his most exhilarating work lies.

Michael Mann

I like that Michael Mann is uncompromising. He makes films which, based on premise and star power, should be commercial knockouts, but they almost never are. He has an incredibly clear sense of self, and like Nolan has a lot of frequently recurring tropes in his films. Michael Mann makes films about Men Making Tough Choices™. He builds detailed, intensely researched worlds and he loves crime!

There’s something special when a filmmaker can tread the same ground over and over again and never convey the same central message twice. Nearly all of Mann’s movies are gritty, neo-noir thrillers with an obsessive attention to detail, but all of them deal with a totally distinct existential question which runs through every element of the film, from meta casting to set design, to music, to Mann’s pioneering use of digital photography. I’m just obsessed!

Stephen Soderbergh

Soderbergh is a hill that I’m going to be climbing for quite some time, I think. This is a guy who is relentlessly prolific, taking on a ridiculous number of roles on set himself, and working so fast that he often churns out multiple films in a year. With limited funds and a determination to watch movies legally, my progress through Soderbergh’s filmography has been slow, but I’ve loved every one I’ve watched so far.

As much as I love the guy’s mastery of the heist movie, and the way he slips those story telling devices into a lot of his non-heist stories, I think what really gets me about Soderbergh is the way his filmmaking style always seems to feel tooled towards portraying his characters with as much empathy as possible. Often his films are about people working or learning to empower themselves and coming to terms with their own identities. Anyway, go watch Out of Sight! It’s a damn masterpiece!

Kathryn Bigelow

Kathryn Bigelow’s career is full of insane ups and downs, but as far as I’m concerned, despite the difficulties she’s had getting her movies made and seen, she has three unqualified masterworks: Point Break, Strange Days and The Hurt Locker. On this list of directors, Bigelow has perhaps the most stylistically varied body of work, but her best work, much like that of other directors that I find myself drawn to, is largely concerned with obsession. Her characters are deeply flawed, but unwaveringly driven. What I love is that despite her drastic genre change from pulpy action thriller to hyper-realistic docudrama, she’s managed to hold on to that fascination with obsession, and an acute, outsider’s understanding of masculinity and its fragility.

Kathryn Bigelow has had to adapt to keep working, but because of that, she’s managed to develop a voice and a personality that is versatile enough to withstand her career shifts, but strong enough that it hasn’t been chipped away at by the difficulties she’s faced as a woman in Hollywood.

So, what was the point of all this?

Honestly, there wasn’t one. This was a piece of self-indulgence that allowed me to navigate an idea over which I was obsessing for a little while. That being said, I think if I had read something along these lines a few years ago, I would have delved into the world of director-focused movie watching far sooner. It’s hard to quickly and easily define the role of a director in contemporary film, particularly due to the ever growing influence of studios, but in the world in which the above filmmakers operate, the director has final say over all the creative decisions involved in putting together a movie. For me, the most exciting films are the ones that clearly and effectively communicate a single creative voice. Sue me, I love auteurs.

#miami vice #auteurs #christopher nolan #the prestige #the coen brothers #inside llewyn davis #stephen spielberg #the post #michael mann #collateral #steven soderbergh #out of sight #kathryn bigelow #the hurt locker #filmmakers #Jewish film #wanky bullshit

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kitten1618x · 6 years ago

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GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x02 ‘A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms’ (Jonsa Edition)

Guys this episode was sooooooo good! Okay, okay, okay, let’s unpack here! I have lots of thoughts and since this isn’t broken up into parts, this is going to be a long post, so I’m gonna drop this bad boy under a read more.

We begin in the Great Hall. It appears Jaime is on trial. Queen Dany sits at the head of the table—and imagine having the fucken audacity to sit in Winterfell — in Rickard fucken Starks seat—and in front of his grandchildren, talking about the extermination of Aerys Targaryen like he was some noble king that was just slaughtered by the big bad kingslayer, and NOT the murderous fucken mad Targ king, whom crimes’ you just recently apologized to Jon for, and called him evil to conveniently set yourself apart from him—or did you just forget all that, Dany? Hmmm? IMAGINE the big hairy pair you have to have to actually sit in between the Starks in their own home and utterly disrespect them like that—all while claiming to be in love with one of them? Wow. Just wow. And no, I’m not even sorry for that amazingly clunky run-on sentence, either.

I see that Jaime still has no interest in setting the record straight on why he killed Aerys Targaryen. It appears only Brienne will truly ever know about the millions of people he saved that day in doing so. Jaime stands his ground, though, and gives up Cersei’s plans. Tyrion tries to stand up for him, but Dany cuts him off at the knees (no pun intended), embarrassing him in front of everyone, as per ush.

For a moment her and Sansa have common ground. Sansa doesn’t trust Jaime either because of the wrongs he committed against her family. Jamie won’t apologize for any of it— their houses were at war. But Brienne vouches for him—my courageous, yet shy bb (God, I love her), and Sansa relents, her mind changed when Brienne says she’d fight beside him. Sansa trusts Brienne with her life, therefore Brienne trusting Jaime with hers is good enough for the Lady of Winterfell.

Dany is clearly not pleased with this turn of events. She turns to Jon, addressing him as Warden of the North and asks him what he thinks — assuming he will take her side, but—

He does not.

Dany finally relents as well, grounding out a “very well” between clenched teeth, as Tyrion breathes a sigh of relief that his big bro will not be extra crispy or original recipe’d today. GreyWorm returns Jaime’s sword—rather forcefully, knowing his queen is displeased—as Jaime thanks Dany for her uncharacteristic mercy.

Scene Highlights:

Bran blurting out “the things we do for love” and leaving Jaime shooketh

Sansa immediately standing up and leaving without waiting to be dismissed by the queen, and Jon ducking his head to avoid eye contact and then dipping as soon as Dany turns to face him.

Which takes us into the corridors of Winterfell and Dany resorting to her favorite pastime when she’s angry about things not going her way: berating her Hand in front of everyone. Luckily for Tyrion it’s just Jorah and Varys to witness it this time. Once again she accuses him of treason, and Tyrion is pretty sure that his time as Hand in her service is fast dwindling.

We jump to the forge where Arya stands back admiring Gendry work his magic—a callback to their time at Harrenhall in their younger years. They have a little flirty weaponry banter, and Arya wants to know what the AotD are like. She utters the iconic ‘many faces of death’ lines from the trailer while she impresses Gendry with some dead ass accurate blade throwing. He’ll be getting right on making her that weapon, by the way—and probably walking a little funny while he does it. 😉

Jaime seeks out Bran in the Godswood. He apologizes for what he did and tells Bran he’s not that person anymore. “You still would be if you hadn’t pushed me out that window, and I’d still be Brandon Stark.” Wow. Jaime wants to know why Bran didn’t tell them what he did, and Bran basically tells him it’s because they need him. When Jaime inquires “what about afterwards?” Bran drops an ominous “how do you know there will be an afterwards?”

We jump back to the Winterfell courtyard, where the Lannister brothers are catching up and commiserating about being in Winterfell again. Dany is different, Tyrion tells Jaime, and Jaime doesn’t seem so convinced. Tyrion wants to know if Cersei lied about the baby, and Jaime tells him that was true (as far as he/we know, people). But what I REALLY love about their conversation is this part:

J: She’s always been good at using the truth to tell lies. Don’t be too hard on yourself. She’s fooled me more than anybody.

T: She never fooled you. You always knew exactly what she was, and you loved her anyway.

The funny, or actually ironic thing about this conversation is they’re talking about Cersei, but if you flip the dialogue between the Lannister brothers here, the same could be said for Dany—especially the bolded part. Think back to the things Tyrion said to Jorah when he kidnapped him back in season 5 — he was confused by Jorah’s blind loyalty, too. How the mighty have fallen, Tyrion.

They move their conversation up to the battlements, where Tyrion finds the silver lining that at least he won’t die at Cersei’s hands, and perhaps once he’s torn apart by the dead, he’ll march to Kings Landing and rip her apart too. But he’s talking to himself, because Jaime is too busy watching Brienne supervising the training of her ranks just outside the gates.

And my Braime heart is siiiiiiiinging!!!

He joins her below, and she calls him out for acting weird and not insulting her as per ush. lol It’s really just an adorable little love spat — complete with awkwardness and frustration and plenty of UST. And as the music lulls romantically, he basically admits that she’s the reason he’s here and even though he’s no longer the fighter that he used to be, he‘d be honored to serve under her command if she’ll have him—which is basically fucken a straight up declaration of love, okay? He literally just said—complete with puppy dog eyes—“I love you.” CHANGE MY MIND!!

Brienne is taken aback by this declaration of love and is at loss for words — and so she ducks out, leaving him to watch after her forlornly. And my Braime heart is still siiiiiiiinging!!!!

We head back inside of Winterfell, Dany is alone in her chambers — and they aren’t the Lord’s Chambers, that’s for damn sure. She’s not having a very good day, and her expression here certainly reflects that. Jorah enters, asking her forgiveness, reminding her that forgiveness is important. This leads into a conversation where he basically asks her to take it easy on Tyrion and give him another chance.

While book!Jorah might be a creep, I truly adore show!Jorah, who laments that when he found out Dany gave Tyrion this position, it broke his heart, but he still believes that Tyrion was the right choice; he’s smart, he owns his mistakes and he learns from them.

What I find odd is Dany’s reply: “You’re advising me to forgive the man who stole your position?”

Wait... what? When did Tyrion do that? I recall Dany proudly pinning that golden hand pin on a very humbled Tyrion in the season 6 finale—not some rabid dwarf attacking an unsuspecting Jorah and wrestling the position from his gnarled greyscaled hands—and what-the-ever-living-fuck kind of crazy ass dialogue are they giving this girl?

Jorah has one other suggestion for her, if she’ll allow him such liberties. Annnnnd now the Sansa/Dany scene makes so much more sense. Dany didn’t seek Sansa out of her own accord to try and bridge the icy gap between them because she’s just so humble and wonderful and loving and good!!!! !!!! !!!! It was actually Ser Jorah’s idea.

So Dany takes him up on his suggestion and seeks Sansa out, finding her in the library with Lord Royce. But ahhhh this scene is just so fucken good, so let’s unpack it, shall we?

Dany enters and asks that they speak in private, and Sansa cedes to her wishes, dismissing Lord Royce.

D - I thought you and I were on the verge of agreement before... about Ser Jaime.

S - Brienne has been loyal to me always. I trust her more than anyone.

D - I wish I could have that kind of faith in my advisers.

Here she takes a low blow at Tyrion again, but Sansa defends him.

S - Tyrion is a good man. He was never anything but decent towards me.

D - I didn’t ask him to be my hand simply because he was good. I asked him to be my hand because he was good and intelligent and ruthless when he had to be. (See, I told y’all Tyrion didn’t steal the position... and yes, I’m being petty lol). Dany steps closer into Sansa’s space as she continues. He never should have trusted Cersei.

S - You never should have either.

Sansa drops a truth bomb, insinuating (rightly) that Dany shares the blame here, and Dany doesn’t like this at all. She swallows, containing her anger and paints on a fake smile in her irritation at Sansa’s words.

D - I thought he knew his sister.

S - Families are complicated.

Dany smiles at that and pulls up a seat, indicating for Sansa to do the same.

D - Ours certainly have been.

S - A sad thing to have in common.

D - We have other things in common. We’ve both known what it means to lead people who aren’t inclined to accept a woman’s rule. And we’ve both done a damn good job of it, from what I can tell...

Sansa smiles briefly at this. Clearly, Dany is using the compliment strategy again, but not so shallowly this time. Even if she truly believes this, the commonality of them both being women ruling is where this similarity ends. We’ve seen how differently they run things via season 7’s blatant comparison of ‘the three queens’. Sansa stores food, Cersei steals it, and Dany burns it (and yes, I’m going to keep bringing this up). But honestly, who could forget?

vs.

D - (cont.) ...and yet I can’t help feeling like we’re at odds with each other. Why is that?

Sansa takes a deep breath but doesn’t reply.

D - Your brother?

Yeah y’all, they really did that. But again I say, no love triangle brewing here, folks.

S - He loves you, you know that? *(I’ll address this in a minute)

D - That bothers you?

S - Men do stupid things for women. They’re easily manipulated.

D - All my life I’ve known one goal. The iron throne. Taking it back from the people that destroyed my family, and almost destroyed yours. My war was against them until I met Jon. Now I’m here, half a world away, fighting Jon’s war alongside him. Tell me, who manipulated whom?

Y’all are you serious?!?!? This entire fucken monologue is like literally POLITICAL!JON — I mean, it’s like D&D are literally fucken trolling this relationship so hard. Nothing like hiding some shit right out in plain sight for all the world to not see it. *And if you think for one minute that Sansa is not playing the game here, and that she actually did a complete 180, then I don’t know what to tell you other than, just wait and see.

There was a reason that they cut that office scene between her and Jon in the last episode, and after mulling it over with a few of my comrades, I think that it’s possible that Jon came clean and brought Sansa in on it. They have been a unit since they reunited, and a major part of Sansa’s hostility in the last episode was because she felt Dany was encroaching upon that, and she was losing Jon. Romantic or platonic, no one can deny the dynamic is there between Jon and Sansa. I happen to think it’s romantic, and I will die on this hill—but political!jon and jonsa aren’t mutually exclusive!!! !!! Okay, back to our dialogue.

S - (releases a small laugh and looks down—and I can’t help hearing Catelyn’s voice in my head: ‘you always look at your feet when you lie’) I should have thanked you the moment you arrived. That was a mistake.

D- (reaching down and placing her hand atop of Sansa’s). I’m here because I love your brother, and I trust him. And I know he’s true to his word. He’s only the second man in my life I can say that about.

S - Who was the first?

D- Someone taller.

They both giggle. I assume the other man she’s talking about is Drogo. In any event, I feel Dany is being truly sincere here. This is why people (her stans and the GA both) have a hard time seeing the darkness in her—because one minute she’s sitting narrow-eyed at a table, fighting off a tantrum while she drones on about her father—the fucken mad king—and how her and her brother fantasized about what they would do to the man that murdered him (one can only assume she wasn’t implying knitting him a sweater and mittens), and the next minute she’s all gentle heart and eyes and soft tones about loving and trusting Jon, and giggling with his sister about her ex being much taller than him. I get it. I really do.

But here’s the thing about political!jon that the antis and the jonerii always get wrong—at least the version I subscribe to (and yes, there are several variations of it because we aren’t a hive-mind like we’re always accused of being): Jon has every intention of fulfilling his pledge to Dany and whatever that entails—which is why he keeps trying to convince everyone that she’ll be a good queen (including himself). But he doesn’t love her. He simply used the feelings that he recognized that she had for him, to manipulate her to his cause. This doesn’t mean that he’ll throw her out of winterfell and bone his sister when it’s all said and done—because no, Jon isn’t a creep, but he is actually rather cunning when he deems it necessary.

However, he won’t have to keep up the charade, or boot her ass out of the north, or any of the other things the jonerii accuse us of ‘fantasizing’ about, because Dany is going to go dark, and everyone will see her for what she truly is. So, let’s return to our dialogue so I can get tf off of this scene! lol

~ S - And what happens afterwards? We defeat the dead, you destroy Cersei, what happens then?

D - I take the iron throne.

S - What about the North? (Sansa’s tone drops here as she becomes emotional about her home and her people, the music becomes more ominous as the softness ebbs from Dany’s face). It was taken from us, and we took it back. And we said we’d never bow to anyone else again. (Her tone gets sharper, as she asks again). What about the North?

Dany looks angry now. She’s done playing nice, as she pulls her hand back from Sansa’s. The ominous music drones on as they stare at each other, and the maester interrupts them.~Theon has arrived at Winterfell. The music swells, and Theon looks first to a very visibly emotional Sansa, then Dany, and then back to Sansa again before customarily bowing to and acknowledging his queen. Suddenly Dany gives a flying fuck about her ally and inquires about Yara. Theon explains she’s taken back the Iron Islands in her (Dany’s) name.

“But why aren’t you with her?” Dany asks, confused at his presence, while the music swells again and Theon looks again, to Sansa—and not his queen. Dany of course notices this, and turns to look at Sansa as well, as Theon directly addresses—you guessed it—Sansa, and not his queen: “I want to fight for Winterfell, Lady Sansa. If you’ll have me.”

And oh dear god, I’m so emotional rn, as Sansa’s eyes flood with tears and she runs to envelope Theon in a hug — Theon whom through his own trauma, not only helped to get her away from Ramsay and safely to Jon — but also cared enough for her and the Starks and what he did, to come back and finish making amends!!!! And you know Sansa is so proud of him!!! And I just had a conversation earlier with my bb @scullylikesscience that Theon would likely pledge to protect Bran, and that he will also likely sacrifice himself somehow to save one of the Starks, therefore completing his redemption arc, and I just can’t even rn— 😭😭

Scene Highlights:

Lord Royce leaving only when Sansa dismissed him.

Dany witnessing firsthand the devotion that Sansa and the Starks inspire in people.

Also... don’t forget

We’re back out in the courtyard, where Dadvos is serving up dinner to the Northerners with a side of confidence, and Gilly is advising a woman where to go below in the crypts. A little orphan(?) girl with burns on the side of her face asks Davos where she should go and my fucken heart is shattering again because you know he sees Princess Shireen in her!!!

And Fuck you Bryan Cogman, you’re killing me!!!

She’s not sure where to go because she knows the children are going to the crypts where they’ll be safer, but both of her brothers were soldiers and so she wants to fight too. Auntie Gilly to the rescue: she tells the girl that she’d feel much safer if she was down in the crypts protecting her and her son, and with a purpose, the girl happily accepts her bowl and heads off as Gilly smiles softly at Davos. And god dammit, Liam Cunningham played this scene so well. He literally has me tearing up here!

The horn blows for a new arrival, and Edd is here! The last of the Nights Watch are back together again — and Tormund. lol He glomps Jon, affectionately dubbing him his ‘little crow’, and they let Jon know that Last Hearth is done for and anyone else who’s still out there is pretty much part of the AotD now. They have until sunrise to finish preparing.

And the war council has commenced.~We get a little glimpse of what the NK wants, I guess??? Bran says “he wants to erase this world, and I am its memory.” —but why? And then Sam says something pretty poignant that I want @thelawyerthatwaspromised ‘s thoughts/opinion on: “That’s what death is, isn’t it? Forgetting. Being forgotten. If we forget where we’ve been and what we’ve done, we’re not men anymore, just animals.Your memories don’t come from books, your stories aren’t just stories. If I wanted to erase the world, I may not start with you.”

Pretty sure those that theorized that Sam is writing A Song of Ice and Fire were right, y’all — and with such a ‘poetic’ title, to boot.

They strategize a plan to ferret the NK out using (a volunteering) Bran as bait in the Godswood. Theon volunteers himself and the Iron Born to stay with Bran and protect him (and jfc here comes the end I predicted for Theon and I hate it so much), as Jon shares that taking out the NK will likely diminish the entire army. They cement their battle plans and Dany insists Tyrion stay in the crypts because she intends to keep him on as Hand. Tormund announces that they are all going to die, but at least they’ll die together, and Jon suggests everyone get some rest. Avoiding eye contact with Dany, he utters “your grace,” and then quickly ducks out on her ass again, leaving her looking confused and frustrated.

Scene Highlights:

Jon’s commanding presence in this meeting — even so far as to dismiss everyone, despite the fact that Dany is the queen and supposed to be the one calling the shots. Even her people look to him here for leadership, which is interesting.

Aegon Targaryen and his sister-wives.

Thank you @goodqueenalys ❤️

Alys Karstark making another appearance here, standing beside Theon—yeah, I’m becoming more and more convinced we’re getting a Sansa death fake-out at the expense of this ginger beauty.

We head back out to the courtyard where a lonely looking Missandei attempts to befriend some northern children. Unfortunately, she came with the Dragon Queen, so they want nothing to do with her. Grey Worm joins her and the two make plans to leave for Naath after Dany takes the throne — which means that one of them is probably going to die. Sigh.

Way up high on the ramparts, Sam asks Jon if he’s told Dany yet. He has not, and so Sam prods him a bit — and oh look, there’s Ghost, off to the side looking like they literally photo-shopped him into the scene. 🙄

Edd joins them, and the last of the Watchers On The Wall commiserate, and poke a little fun at Sam. I’m very emotional as Edd says “last man left, burn the rest of us” (which most likely won’t be him) as they pan out to the northern scenery in the distance.

The Lannister boys are reminiscing again, this time by the hearth and are joined by Brienne and Podrick. Momma Brienne allows Pod a half cup of wine (which Tyrion overflows) and Jaime encourages her to join them (smitten fool). She does, as well as Davos and Tormund, too—who is fucken hilarious here as he tries to impress Brienne with one of his tall tales, then sloppily downs his horn of sour goats milk. It’s all rather strange. lol

There’s a brief scene of Arya and the Hound on the ramparts. She wants to know what he’s doing here—when’s the last time he fought for anyone but himself, as to which he replies: “I fought for you, didn’t I?” True enough. Beric joins them and Arya takes her leave, declaring she doesn’t intend to spend her last hours with these two miserable old shits. lol

I’m not sure where she headed off to, but Gendry finds her and presents her with her weapon. Arya wants to know what the red woman wanted with him. He tells her his blood because he’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard — which leads into Arya wanting to know how many women he’s been with. Gendry avoids the question, but Arya persists, many face gaming his ass until he relents. LOL

The number is 3, and Arya wants to be number 4. She wants to know what it’s like before she dies. And holy shit, they went there! They kiss passionately, with Arya taking the lead. She orders him to take his own bloody pants off and takes the bull for a ride—if ya know what I mean... 😉

We return to the group before the hearth in the hall. Tyrion remarks that almost all among them had fought the Starks at some point, and yet, here they all are defending them. But yeah, this story is about a Targaryen restoration.

In their battle banter, it comes up that Brienne is not a Knight—and while Tormund would happily Knight her gorgeous big-womaned ass ten times over, tradition does not allow her to be one because she’s a woman. Oh the irony that the most honorable of them all—the one who actually is a true knight, cannot be named one. Until Jaime says, “hold my beer!” (or wine, rather).

Okay guys, like honestly, this is probably my most favorite scene of the entire series. Everything about it is so beautiful and wholesome, as Jaime declares any Knight can make another Knight and bids Brienne to kneel. She looks to Pod who, with an adoring face, gives her a little nod of encouragement, then she looks to Jaime, and he does the same.

The lovely music, the proud faces of all the men who look on with awe as Brienne kneels and Jaime says the words, pressing his blade gently from one shoulder to the other and makes some fucken Westerosi history when he says proudly: “Arise Brienne of Tarth, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Guuuuuuuys!!!! Omg!!!! I’m definitely ugly CRYING here!!!! Brienne’s eyes welling with tears, her proud smile, all these men clapping and their proud faces!!! Yeah, this is definitely 10/10 my most FAVORITE ever GoT scene!!! Just beautiful!

We jump back out to the courtyard where a very adorable and yet insanely stubborn little Lyanna Mormont is arguing with Jorah about going to the crypts. She pledged to fight for the North and she intends to, so she bids her cousin good fortune and leaves to take her place. Sadly, I think that she will not make it through the battle for Winterfell.

Sam has come to give Jorah Heartsbane. This is another very loaded and lovely scene, and my heart is pretty heavy, because I’m not very confident that Jorah will make it out of this battle alive, either. Sam tells him: “your father taught me how to be a man. Taught me how to do what’s right. This is right,” as he presents him the sword. Jorah accepts this heartfelt gesture and declares that he will wield it in his memory, to guard the realms of men.

BRYAN COGMAN!!!! I’M COMING FOR YOU FOR MAKING ME CRY ALL DAMN NIGHT!!!!

But seriously, the dynamic between Jorah and Sam has just been so beautiful. And all the antis can fuck right off with their shit-talking of this beautiful and wholesome creature that is Samwell Tarly!

We jump back to the crew before the hearth who are loathe to call it a night. Tyrion wants a song, and we are treated to Pod’s beautiful rendition of Jenny of Oldstones — and this entire montage is so beautiful, as we see how everyone is prepping for battle, spending their last hours with those they love and saying their goodbyes. The desperation in Missandei and GreyWorm’s very passionate goodbye kiss is extremely moving and makes me think this is probably their final kiss goodbye, and Jorah looks so gallant as he swings ‘round his horse, making his father proud and my heart is just swelling with love and dread and ughhhhhhhh!!!!!

At first I was a bit upset that none of the Starks were actually together here, but in my rewatch, I’ve come to understand why a little bit more. It seems as if they’ve all revisited their own life’s journey prior to coming home (in this episode). Jon, on the ramparts with Ghost and his remaining brothers of the Nights Watch. Arya, first sharing a brief moment with the Hound and Beric (brothers without banners), and then with Gendry. Sansa sharing a meal with Theon out in the courtyard in the home that holds both good and traumatic memories for both of them. He redeemed himself through her (as Jon said), and they share a bond of both surviving Ramsay and his horrors.

Bryan Cogman did NOT disappoint with this lovely episode, which has been what we will surely look back on as a bittersweet eulogy of sorts to some of the beloved characters we’ve come to know over the years. Yeah, this was beautifully done.

Ahhh, and lastly, we delve down into the crypts where Jon stands before the statue of his mother. Dany has very obviously (and understandably) grown tired of being avoided and sought him out. When he acknowledges her presence with a brief glance and a very faint smile, she cautiously moves closer and wraps her arms around him. And yep, here it is—the reveal. I honestly thought he would keep it from her as long as he possibly could, but I guess he figures they might all bite it anyway, so fuck it... (i’m kidding!! Or am i??)

Dany is taken aback by his words. She releases a shuddering breath and immediately steps away from him, denying it: that’s impossible. Jon tells her he wishes it were — and I fully believe him. Aside from the full-on identity crisis he’s been experiencing, you all know he has no interest in the Iron Throne... all this man has ever wanted was to protect his home, and the ones he loves.

Dany thinks there’s a conspiracy against her between Bran and Sam—and now Jon’s tone and demeanor have changed a bit. He takes a step towards her and insists that it’s true, calling her Dany because it’s informal and personal, and he knows now that she’s his aunt—that means she’s still his family—and I think he’s hoping that they’ll still be able to find some common ground with that.

But the fact that she’s found actual family—that she’s not really the last Targaryen alone in the world anymore—doesn’t seem to affect her as much as the fact that Jon is the last male heir of their line, and so therefore his claim for the throne overrides hers. A claim he has expressed no want or intent for, mind you. Maybe he intended to tell her no one would have to know, and he’d never contest her claim if she’d agree to leave the North independent when it’s all said and done... who knows? Certainly not Jon, because it’s clear he’s taken aback by her response here.

D - if it were true, it would make you the last male heir of House Targaryen (she grounds out those bolded words through clenched teeth and Kit’s micro expressions are on point—jfc, Watch his eyes!!). You’d have a claim to the iron throne.

And with the final utterance of Dany’s last words, the war horns sound. As if that doesn’t seem like a harbinger of Targbowl?!?!

But I will say, in my honest and most humble opinion, that his delivery here was all wrong. The way Jon lamented the story, it kind of came off as if it’s something he might have known all along... and therefore she most certainly will feel betrayed at this. Especially considering her earlier conversation with Sansa. Which, the crazy ass irony of it all is, with political!jon, he was actually already betraying her—just not about what she’ll think it was. Did I say that right? lol

They join Tyrion on the Ramparts, the dead are here. Jon looks towards Dany, nodding as if to ask if she’s ready, and she storms off ahead of him, anger evident on her face.

Ahhhhhhhhh, I’m really scared for Jon here, guys...!!! What are your thoughts?

Remember to care for yourselves and stay hydrated as we slug through this hellish week!

ty @farmgirlusa for your dialogue corrections.

#got afterthoughts #episode recap #jonsa #political!jon #dark!dany #anti jonerys #anti targaryen restoration #anti daenerys #not really but you aren't allowed to be critical of her if you're a fan and her behavior was so inappropriate this episode #so i guess it's anti #got s8 ep 2 #got s8

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