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reinerispretty · 4 years ago

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warm hands. (mako x f!reader) rewrite.

hello everyon!! a while ago i wrote a request called warm hands that got deleted by tumblr when i tried to edit the post on mobile :/ i’ve been on this hellsite for years and it still sucks but ANYWAY. as a thank you for supporting me and also as an apology for not updating lmao i wanted to repost a better version i wrote <3 much love to u and to mako

She turned to the man standing just a few feet away from her, surprised at how familiar his face had looked. His jet black hair, thick eyebrows, and golden eyes were from somewhere, but (Y/N) couldn’t place if she had dreamt about someone like him or had actually met him.

It would bug her the rest of the day if she didn’t say anything to him, so she had. “Excuse me,” She said, lightly touching his arm to get his attention. “Sorry to bother you, you just look really familiar to me.”

He had stared down at her silently, his brows furrowed, and in normal circumstances (Y/N) would have felt absolutely mortified...

There were dozens of libraries within Republic City, yet so far none of them had what (Y/N) was looking for. She had spent her entire day off trekking through the busy streets and bustling sidewalks, hailing cab after cab until her resources ran just low enough where she would have to be very picky about what groceries she picked this week. Sweat dripped down the back of her neck as she walked toward her destination. Summer was in full swing and it felt like the sun was after her specifically. She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. So far, she had visited fifteen libraries, and was walking up the steps of the very last, hoping that someone inside would be able to help her with her request.

She passed through the double doors and was met with a rush of cold air that sent a chill down her spine. She must look ridiculous, she thought, as she approached the information desk. An old woman was positioned behind it, her back hunched over a book. She hadn’t heard (Y/N) approach, so the young girl rang the bell that set on the counter. The old woman jumped back, a startled expression on her lined face.

“I’m sorry!” (Y/N) exclaimed, then clasped a hand over her mouth. This was a library, she had to watch her volume in here. “Sorry,” She said again, her voice lower. “I was wondering if you could help me with something? I’ve been looking all over town for books on firebending and I can’t seem to find any.”

“We’ve got some!” The woman chirped, seeming to have recovered from her startle. She rose slowly to her feet and grabbed her cane. “Although they’re not technique books, if that’s what you’re looking for. My grandson has a great firebending academy just down the street if you’re interested.”

“Oh, no,” (Y/N) said as she followed the old woman through the enormous stacks of bookcases. “I don’t need any training, I’m just looking for a fact book or something like it.” The woman nodded and silently led (Y/N) to a very dimly lit section of the library. Just as (Y/N’s) feet began to ache from walking, they stopped, and the librarian pointed her cane up at the top shelf. It was out of her reach, but just within (Y/N’s).

“That’s the one you’re looking for,” She said, smiling pleasantly. (Y/N) looked up and found an enormous book, bound in red cloth with the Fire Nation emblem on the side. She reached up and took it into her arms, nearly toppling over at its sheer weight.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) strained herself to say. The librarian nodded once more before disappearing into the stacks of books. (Y/N) waddled herself over to a table in a more well-lit section of the library and sat down.

She had never cared much for bending. Being a nonbender herself in a nonbending family, she had watched indifferently as some of her classmates developed their bending skills. (Y/N) was always able to get through life without bending, so she had never thought of it as something important. Even probending, which rocked the city with its competitions, had never interested her.

(Y/N) sighed as she turned to the first page. To think, she was going to all of this trouble for a boy.

(Y/N’s) older brother had known Mako first, when they were just kids. Both worked for the Triple Threat Triads for a number of years. (Y/N) had remembered Mako as the serious (and slightly intimidating) friend of her brother’s that would stand outside waiting while her brother tried to convince her to cover for him. He might not have been a bender, but he was as strong as a platybus bear for a boy of fifteen, so the Triads made great use of him. (Y/N) had never liked it, but she always lied to their parents on his behalf. Sometimes, she had glared down at Mako from her bedroom window, and it seemed like some nights he frowned right back up at her.

This was all years ago, of course. Once her brother went off to join the United Forces, (Y/N) had forgotten all about Mako. It wasn’t until this past spring that she had seen him again. They had been waiting for their food outside of a soup shop. It had been the lunch hour, so (Y/N) had known they would take a while, but she didn’t mind, because she liked to people watch in order to keep herself occupied. She turned to the man standing just a few feet away from her, surprised at how familiar his face had looked. His jet black hair, thick eyebrows, and golden eyes were from somewhere, but (Y/N) couldn’t place if she had dreamt about someone like him or had actually met him.

He had stared down at her silently, his brows furrowed, and in normal circumstances (Y/N) would have felt absolutely mortified to be having this exchange with a total stranger, but something about him was different. She felt calm around him.

“I know you from somewhere, too,” The man said then, a small smile appearing on his face. “Did your brother used to work for-“

“The Triads!” (Y/N) finished, whispering the words excitedly because you couldn’t just shout the name of one of the leading gangs in Republic City in a crowd full of people. “You’re…Mako, right?”

“You must have a great memory, it’s been years since I’ve waited outside your house for your brother to come down.” (Y/N) laughed. “If I remember correctly, you used to give me the evil eyes from your bedroom window.” She smiled.

“That was me!” She extended her hand. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to officially meet you.”

“Same here,” Mako said, shaking her hand. “How’s your brother doing?”

“Very well, I think! He’s with the United Forces now, so I don’t hear much from him, but his last letter sounded very promising.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“How are you doing? I’ll have to write to him about you, I’m sure he’ll be so excited to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Joined the Republic City Police, so I guess I’m arresting the people I used to work with.” He shrugged.

“Beats getting arrested,” (Y/N) offered, and Mako cracked a smile.

“It sure does.” Her order was called from the counter, and (Y/N) scurried over to pick it up. When she returned, Mako had his own food in hand.

“Before you go,” (Y/N) started, and it was like the words would come out of her mouth before she had the chance to stop them. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me sometime? I’d love to give my brother a detailed description of what you’ve been up to.” She was never this bold, but it was like something else entirely had overcome her. He was handsome, and it was just a cup of coffee. Nothing too scary.

Mako had agreed to the cup of coffee that week and one cup had turned into three before turning into dinner. It had been nearly eight months since they met and the majority of their free time away from their jobs was spent together. Things were surprisingly easy with Mako. He was a fantastic listener and offered her the advice that she needed to hear. He had a bit of a rough shell on the outside, but (Y/N) worked tirelessly to break through it and revealed a man capable of so much love that she came to learn very few had ever actually given him it in return.

She was always completely lost when he talked about his probending days, but she enjoyed hearing him talk about his youth so much that it had set her on a course of research. (Y/N) was at the library today to better understand firebending. It was part of Mako, and she loved Mako (even if she hadn’t admitted it), so she would learn to love firebending as well.

She read for hours, until the sun had set outside and lanterns were lit within the space. (Y/N) looked up from her book, eyes heavy and dry from reading so many pages. She had only made it about halfway through the book, so she checked out the heavy title from the librarian at the front and made her way home. Mako would be working the night shift that night, so she didn’t have to worry about any interruptions.

---

Mako wasn’t quite sure what had gotten into his girlfriend. (Y/N) couldn’t bend. Not that there was anything wrong with that of course, Mako respected nonbenders just as much as benders (except for, y’know, the Amon thing), but lately (Y/N) had become a walking fountain of knowledge on firebending. At first he hadn’t thought anything of it, but as it continued on he started to sense that something was up.

The first time it had happened was on one of Mako’s days off. He had slept in late even though (Y/N) had promised to wake him up. With disheveled hair and his eyes squinting at the bright late morning light, he shuffled into the kitchen to give his girlfriend a very soft piece of his mind. She was scrambling eggs in front of the stove, turning to look back at him with a smile brighter than the sun. Mako allowed himself a smirk before his face turned stern.

“You were supposed to wake me up,” He had said, his voice gruff from having not been used. (Y/N) shrugged.

“I don’t think an earthquake could’ve woken you up,” She said in her defense. “Plus, you deserve extra sleep.” She had poked him in the stomach. “Firebenders can’t firebend if they’re exhausted.” Mako had chuckled. It sounded like the sort of thing mothers told their children in order to get them to go to bed.

But a few days later, she had mentioned something similar. They had been walking down the streets of Republic City, on their way to go visit Korra and Asami for lunch, when (Y/N) stopped suddenly in front of a store display. Mako jerked backward, unaware that she had paused.

“Do you know what that is?” She asked, looking up at him with an expression that indicated that she was testing him. Mako stared at the storefront.

“A clearance sign?” He questioned. (Y/N) had rolled her eyes.

“Not that,” She sighed, and pointed her finger at the tapestry that was hung in the back of the store. How she had spotted that from the corner of her eye, Mako had no idea, so he shrugged. “It’s the symbol of the Sun Warriors,” She explained. “They were the first firebenders, after the dragons, of course. They’re extinct now, I think.” (Y/N) smiled up at him while he raised an eyebrow at her. He cracked a smile before tugging at her hand.

“I’m about to go extinct if we don’t get some lunch.”

The biggest indicator by far had been the other night, when he was getting ready to leave for work. (Y/N) had sat on the bed as he stood in front of the mirror and buttoned up his uniform. He kept spares at (Y/N’s) place now, since he spent nearly every night there anyway.

She was looking at him with an expression he had never seen before. It was like she was analyzing him. Mako turned around as he finished the last button, but before he could speak, she beat him to it.

“How do you do it?” She asked, and Mako furrowed his dark brows.

“Do what?”

“Bending.” She looked into his eyes at this point and Mako had felt his heart swell. He had a hard time transmitting the emotions that he was feeling inside to his appearance outside. If he could, he would have melted into a puddle on the floor for this girl. In a matter of a few months she had become something to aim toward, to strive for. Catching criminals and solving cases mattered to him, but not nearly as much as returning to her apartment in one piece.

He cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand it, you know? How does it happen? Do you just think about it and it happens? Or do you have to focus?”

“A bit of both, I guess,” Mako said. “When you’re first learning, it takes a lot of focus to master a new move. But once you’ve got it, it kind of becomes second nature.” He sat on the bed beside her to put on his work boots. “It’s like writing something. When you were little, you had to think about how to hold the pen, how to form the letters, what the letters meant. Now you just know.”

“Do you have to think about using lightning rather than fire?” Mako shook his head.

“It’s different movements.” She hummed, staring down at her hands as she contemplated what he just told her. Mako checked his watch for the time. “I’ve got to head out.”

“Okay,” She said as she turned toward him. “Be safe! And don’t forget to invite Bolin over for dinner this weekend.”

Mako let out an exaggerated sigh, at which (Y/N) frowned. “I’m serious Mako,” She continued. “I’ll call Bolin myself to make sure you ask him!”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Mako asked as he packed his badge and wallet.

“It’ll mean more if it’s coming from his big brother.” Mako leaned down and cradled the back of her neck with his hand, leaning for a kiss to which she happily obliged. Mako had many favorite things about (Y/N), but perhaps his most favorite was how she smiled into every kiss he gave her.

“I’ll be sure to let him know,” Mako had said as he ran out of her apartment. If he was late again, Chief Beifong would kill him.

Mako contemplated these instances as he walked back to her apartment. (Y/N) had never expressed very much interest in bending, pardoning recent weeks. He wondered what had gotten her so curious. Perhaps she listened to a new radio show that talked about it. Mako never really listened to the radio anymore—he used to, but Bolin talked over all of the stations so he just turned it off whenever he was in the car.

He hadn’t told her that he would be coming back to her place tonight. He hadn’t entirely been planning on it, but one of the rookies was somehow put in charge of the schedule and put Mako and a kid named Lee on the same shift. Considering Mako had the seniority, he had gotten the night off, but not before completing the copious amounts of paperwork that had piled on his desk. It was nearing one in the morning, so (Y/N) would be fast asleep, but he figured she would enjoy seeing him again. Or at least, he hoped so.

To improve his chances of not facing the wrath of disturbing her slumber, Mako stopped by a late night dessert shop and picked up some of her favorites before returning on his way. When he finally opened the door to her apartment, Mako was unsurprised to find that every light was off, save for the light that peaked underneath her bedroom door.

Mako took his shoes off at the front and dropped the desserts on the kitchen counter before quietly making his way to her bedroom. (Y/N) lay curled up underneath her covers, fast asleep, with the biggest book Mako had ever seen lying beside her. He lifted the heavy book into his arms and thumbed through the pages. Each and every chapter was about firebending. Its origins, its practices, and its faults. Mako smiled to himself. So that’s how she had become a walking encyclopedia.

He changed into his pajamas and slid into bed beside her. Startled, she opened her tired eyes and furrowed her brows at him. “Chief let me go early,” He whispered to her, reaching over her body to turn off her lamp. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead she moved closer to his body and took his hands in hers. “I was reading,” She whispered slowly, as if her brain was cranking back to life. “That firebenders can control the heat in their bodies.” She placed his hands just below her bellybutton. “My cramps are really bad tonight, can you—”

Mako pulled her into his body and kissed her shoulder, spreading his hand wide so that it would cover as much surface area as possible. She hummed as she felt the warmth emanating from his hands. “Thank you.” After a few minutes, her even breathes indicated that she was asleep.

Mako wondered then if he had been the reason that (Y/N) had a newfound fascination with firebending. While he was a great detective, he was absolutely clueless. She had gotten a whole book about firebending, had shared her knowledge to let him know that she cared about something that she had never cared about before. Mako pressed his face into the crook of his neck to hide the wide smile that no one would see.

(Y/N) wanted to know more about firebending because it was part of who he was. No one had ever taken such an interest in Mako’s passions. He had figured before, but was now certain, that he loved the girl in his arms so, so dearly.

---

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#mako x reader #lok #legend of korra #korra x reader #asami x reader #bolin x reader #bolin #mako #korra #asami #writing #fanfiction

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 years ago

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The Revived - Chapter 20: Some Light Reading

This is chapter 20 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 4,137

Cw: A lot of pain, inflicting pain, tensions between characters, food/eating

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

It was not an entirely pleasant experience to wake up, lying on the floor with his leg in a strange elevated position. In fact, he wouldn’t have been entirely convinced he’d woken up at all, if it wasn’t for the wave of pain bursting through his head. It was pounding, and his vision was blurry enough for him to almost believe he was sitting on a chair, blindfolded again.

There was no one around to punch him though. Just a huge empty bunker, and a smell of scattered paper. He didn’t have the slightest clue what time it was, or for how long he’d slept. As he squinted at his surroundings, there wasn’t the slightest hint of natural light. Just the torches above him.

There was silence.

“Ghostbur?” he said, his voice hushed.

“Oh! You’re awake! Good morning.” The ghost’s words were quick, though tinted with relief. There was something exhausted about them too, however. Wilbur got up from the floor, crawling back to the chair. He sat down on it, getting a better view of the room. “How are you feeling?”

Wilbur cracked his neck, stretching his arms. “Wonderful,” he said.

“Actually?”

Wilbur tensed up, closing his eyes momentarily. He took a deep breath. “No. Not really.”

There was a sigh from Ghostbur, but it wasn’t one of annoyance. It was rather melancholic. Relieved, perhaps. “Yeah… Me neither.”

While the words weren’t exactly good news, Wilbur’s lips curved up just slightly. Perhaps it was just the honesty. There was something silent and intimate about the words, breaking through the silence. The mutual pain. Not that that was too comforting in the long run. “Shit, my head hurts,” he noted, not necessarily to anyone but the empty room, placing a hand on his forehead.

“Mhm...” Ghostbur said, and everything indicated he was feeling it too.

They sat there in a less uncomfortable silence, Wilbur’s limbs heavy, as he looked at his bandaged leg. The regeneration potion had helped quite a bit, he realized as he tried to move it, but he still doubted he’d be able to stand on it confidently. He noticed some dryness leftover from a few tears right underneath his eye. He froze. “Ghostbur?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you… If I cry, do you feel it?” It was a risky and perhaps vulnerable question. The mention of the tears only seemed to make his head pound more. For a moment he was almost thankful everything was far too blurry for him to think properly.

“I don’t know.” Ghostbur said, with far more nonchalance than what was probably deserved, “My face often burns anyway.” He paused, as if he only just then realized what he was saying, “I mean, that’s okay though! It doesn’t feel so bad when it’s on the face anymore.”

The words sent an unwelcome shiver down Wilbur’s spine. He went quiet for a few breaths, unsure what to say. I’m sorry, he felt he should say, but it didn’t taste familiar enough. I can help you, he considered, but he realized it was yet another empty promise. Thank you, he wanted to say, but it was far too vague, and far too broad, and he wasn’t thanking Ghostbur for feeling pain. None of it sat right with him. He shook his head. “Is there anything you wanna do?” he asked instead.

Ghostbur let out a breath. “What can we do?”

And wasn’t that an excellent question? Wilbur closed his eyes.

“Should we… Should we find someone?” Ghostbur asked.

Wilbur looked at his leg. He looked to the books, filled to the brim with information. He looked at the food readily available to him. He bit his lip. “I… I don’t think it’d be safe while my leg is still healing.”

“Oh, right, right,” Ghostbur said, sounding mildly disappointed, but it wasn’t too noticeable.

“There are some books we could read,” Wilbur tried, feeling as if it was a bit of a weak offer.

“I like books,” Ghostbur said, and Wilbur wasn’t sure if it was entirely sincere or not. Then, the tone turned softer. As if a pleasant memory passed by. “I used to write books.”

“Really?” Wilbur asked, tilting his head.

“I had a library! I wrote things down, and I read all the history books I could find. Tried to organize it all,” Ghostbur explained, sounding a little more excited at each word.

As Ghostbur spoke about it, Wilbur found some faint memories in the back of his mind. Organizing books, and writing down new information. Searching for something. “Did you like history?” Wilbur asked, and for an absurd moment he felt like an actor, asking someone if they enjoyed their latest movie. He huffed at the thought.

“I did. I tried to figure out what you did when you were alive. Everyone looked at me in different ways, and I-” he trailed off for a moment, “I don’t know, but I did enjoy reading.”

“I wonder if there is anything you wrote in here,” Wilbur mused, trying to ignore his own curiosity.

“I don’t think so. Most of them were destroyed when-” He abruptly stopped talking, the last syllable sounding strained.

“When what?”

“My head hurts,” Ghostbur simply replied.

Wilbur slowly nodded, not quite sure what to make of the lack of an answer. “So… To pass the time, how about we read some books here? We can find some information about the revival too, and try to figure out how to get you- how to free you, in the process,” he looked at a different spot in the air, realizing there was nowhere to make eye contact with the ghost. “How does that sound?”

“Okay!” Ghostbur said, “That sounds good.”

He could finally get started on the work. It was something Wilbur was itching to do. He was itching to occupy his hands and his mind with something. His mind was still simultaneously going at thousands of miles a second, and carrying thousands of pounds with each thought. He needed something tangible. Something he could keep in his grasp.

At first, he grabbed the nearest book on the shelf. Quite a big one titled “Governments and Communities of History”. He almost dropped it as he held it in one hand, but he shakily moved it over to the table.

“Governments and Communities of History,” he told Ghostbur. He flipped inside and into the table of contents. He skimmed most of it. It started with the beginning of everything and continued to list political parties that he vaguely recognized. He flipped towards the end, hoping to find the knowledge he missed over the months he was gone. His eyes lingered onto “Eggpire” as he flipped to the corresponding page.

He cleared his throat, “Ready, Ghostie?”

“Yep!”

“This section is about the Eggpire. ‘The Eggpire is an alliance between BadBoyHalo, Antfrost, Punz, Ponk, Hannahxxrose, and Skeppy.’ Huh, I don’t really know most of them. ‘The alliance was formed on January 14, 2021 between the founders, Bad, Ant, Punz and CaptainPuffy. However Puffy is the only founder to leave. She joined Anti-Eggpire (also known as Pro-Omelette) due to a disagreement in views.’” Wilbur chuckled as his head throbbed in response, “The second name is way better.”

Ghostbur made a sound of agreement. Just as Wilbur was about to read again, he had a realization, “I think this is the same Puffy from the flower shop, but I’m not sure.”

“I think so.” Ghostbur paused. “I mean, I can’t imagine a lot of people are named Puffy.”

Wilbur nodded, “Good point.” He took a breath before continuing, “The keystone of the alliance is the crimson red egg located in Badboyhalo’s statue room. The Egg is meant to be a source of chaos and a way to subdue the rest of the server. Despite the Eggpire being formed as a military coalition by Bad with Ant, Puffy, and Punz, most members of the Eggpire have joined due to being corrupted by the Egg.”

Wilbur cringed, “Are they that bad at commanding that they couldn’t genuinely recruit people? Wait- where did the egg even come from?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there was a big red chicken that laid the red egg?”

Wilbur exhaled out of his nose to resemble a laugh, “These guys are fucking losers, who else tried to resemble me while I was gone?”

He flipped to the beginning of the book as Ghostbur chided him, “Language.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, but his headache seemed to worsen from the action, “Pardon my French, I speak it like a bitch.” Wilbur smirked to himself as he heard Ghostbur’s upset noises.

His eyes glossed the table of contents, as he barely focused on the words. He exhaled sharply as his mind settled on L’Sandberg? No- that couldn’t be right. It was L’Manberg and it was long gone.

He flipped to the page to verify it, before seeing the text that he mumbled out loud, “L'Sandberg (formerly L'Puffyberg and L'Puffberg) is a nation created by BadBoyHalo weeks after the end of the Eggpire.” It oddly reminded him of himself. Starting L’Manberg then creating Pogtopia because it was taken away. L’Sandberg was even named in an odd reference to L’Manberg, perhaps he would have to check the place out.

He was about to read the next part as he reread the previous lines. A strange familiarity ran through his mind. “I’ve heard of this Badboyhalo guy, but there’s no way he’s the same dude that would create a nation along with a cult-y alliance.” The only person he could picture as he read the name was a demon that dressed in red and black. He saw him bumbling around the streets with a blue man with shining skin.

While they’d had small conversations before, he wasn’t even a hundred percent sure about his name. Part of him wanted to call him SaintsofGames, which he assumed might’ve been his actual name, or perhaps an older title.

He tried to imagine the friendly demon who cooked muffins on Saturdays being a general, but all he got out of return was the throb in his head to increase. “Have you ever heard of Badboyhalo?”

Ghostbur thought for a moment, “Yeah, I think Tommy mentioned him once? I don’t really remember all the details though.”

Wilbur hummed, “He seems neat.”

“Wilby?”

Wilbur looked up from the book and into thin air, “Yeah?”

Ghostbur whined out, “My head hurts.”

Wilbur nodded, but winced as it somehow worsened the headache. “Mine as well.”

“Do we got any… I don’t know what it’s called but it’s sweet drink.”

At Ghostbur’s words, Wilbur’s stomach growled. “I don’t know, but I’m gonna see if I can find something to eat.” Wilbur faintly chuckled, “That’s probably why I’ve got this killer headache.”

Ghostbur made a small hum of agreement as Wilbur awkwardly realized that he would have to walk to get food. He moved from the chair, hissing in pain as positioned himself to stand on his uninjured leg. He slightly toppled from the unbalance, but didn’t have too many problems staying steady.

“Alright, I’m gonna warn you now that it might hurt.”

Ghostbur’s voice was laced with panic, “Wait, what are you doing now?”

“Don’t worry too much. I’m just walking around in the bunker,” Wilbur reassured. “My leg still hurts so I might fall or something.”

Ghostbur sounded displeased, “Okay, just make sure to be careful.”

“I will.” His eyes searched the room for possible food. He smiled as he remembered the carrots and melons growing downstairs. That smile quickly faded when he thought about the idea of stairs.

He hopped over to the general direction of the stairs, occasionally stopping to maintain his balance once again. At the final step he nearly stumbled, but caught himself just in time by grasping at the nearest wall. He was reminded of the exhaustion that followed his trip to Phil’s house when he’d just returned. It seemed like ages ago by now. He tried not to let the thought linger.

His leg ached slightly as he limped along to the crops. He licked his lips, as he looked at the melons that only served to remind him of his hunger much more. It occurred to him that it had been a while since he last ate. In fact, he had no clue exactly how long it had been at this point, the amount of sleep he’d gotten remaining a mystery to him. Instead of dwelling on that, he reached down at a melon, carving it into several pieces. He didn’t do a particularly great job at it, but it hardly mattered.

He saw himself down on the nearest chair, eating each piece at an impressive pace. The sweet taste seemed to get to his entire body, working almost as many wonders as a potion would.

For a strange moment, Wilbur wondered if the water in the watermelon would cause any harm to the ghost. He couldn’t hear any screams nor pleas, which was fortunate. Being able to consume anything at all was most certainly a plus. To be fair, if the water there was enough, saliva likely would too, and that was a can of worms that Wilbur didn’t have the brain power to consider even the hypothetical of.

Once Wilbur had devoured the entire melon, he felt just a little more at ease. He felt less dizzy, and his body and mind seemed more connected than before.

While the throbbing in his head had ended, he noticed the pain in his leg. He closed his eyes for a small moment as he tried to think of a solution. He did all the medical treatment he really could at this stage. He fiddled with the rind of one of the melons before he realized he could make a potion of instant health.

Attempting to start a drug empire turned out to be helpful after all.

He ran through the materials he needed in his head. Netherwart, blaze power, and a glistening melon. He stood up but his vision swarmed with black spots for a few moments. His stable leg shook as he leaned against the wall. It stopped seconds later, but he was filled with exhaustion that told him to forget about the potion.

Yet, he hopped to a chest near the farm. It wasn’t far away, but the action by itself seemed laborious. He shuffled through it, but found nothing of use. He hopped over to the stairs, quickly grabbing two nether warts from the farm before he started going up.

It was a long process, but he eventually made it up the stairs. He took a shaky breath as Ghostbur chimed in, “We’re still in the bunker right?”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, back up the stairs.”

“So are we doing more reading?” A slight boredom filled Ghostbur’s voice, but Wilbur couldn’t tell if it just arrived or if it had been there for the whole day.

Wilbur hopped to Tubbo’s chest before leaning against the wall once more. “Makin’ potions.”

Ghostbur softly gasped, “Oh, I’ve never done that before! I saw Phil and Techie doing it once though.”

“Sounds neat,” Wilbur responded, half-paying attention while looking through the chest. He pushed around some of the items in there before finding three blaze rods with a few stacks of cobblestone shuffled around. He spotted the crafting table next to the chest and he quickly melded the items together into a brewing stand. He held the brewing stand normally as he put the spare blaze rods in his coat pocket.

He closed the chest and opened the one next to it. Twenty iron ore, random concrete blocks, and miscellaneous mob drops. He was about to close it when he saw a yellow shine under some rotten flesh. Wilbur let out an exhale of relief, “We’ve got all the stuff we need.”

Ghostbur excitedly clapped, “How do you make potions?”

Wilbur put the brewing stand down on the crafting table. “Well, you start with oh fu- n! Fun, fun, yes.” He didn’t know why he censored the swear in front of Ghostbur, but it somehow felt better than letting out a curse. “I forgot the glass bottles.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun.”

Wilbur let out a dry chuckle, “You’re right.” Wilbur thought for a moment, “There might be some in the chest next to that cauldron.” His eyes ran over the cauldron that he didn’t even know was filled or not. He pursed his lips. His uninjured leg was shaking slightly, but he didn’t exactly have another option. Well- he could always suffer. Yet that would mean the suffering of Ghostbur as well.

He didn’t exactly care about the ghost, but he generally preferred not hearing his pleas. He quickly hopped over to the cauldron, only to collapse at the wall behind it. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing to any possible deity out there that there was water in the iron container.

He swung his hand inside the cauldron, not daring to look inside, as if the water would disappear if he did. He felt water about half-way into the swing as he smiled. However, the instant he did that, he heard a cry of agony in his mind that instantly made him open his eyes and recoil, immediately taking his hand out of the water. “Ghostbur what’s-” Ghostbur’s previous words ran through his mind quicker than he could even process them.

It- Water burns me. I’m sorry I just didn’t expect it.

As regret plagued his mind, Ghostbur’s whimpers followed alongside them. The whimpers that reminded him of his agreement with the ghost.

W-warn me next time?

Sure.

Although he hadn’t intended to hurt Ghostbur, guilt overtook him. “Ghostbur, I-” forgot about the really important thing that hurts you if I forget! I just don’t care about you at all!

The familiar cynicism made him externally cringe. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I- I know. It- it hurts, Wil.”

Wilbur somberly nodded, “I know, I can’t do anything about it right now.” Wilbur hated how pathetic his words sounded.

Ghostbur’s typical pleas filled his mind before the pattern was interrupted, “C- could you dry it off?” It took a second for Wilbur to realize what the ghost was saying with the sobs intertwined in the shaky words. But as soon as he deciphered it, he immediately took his hand to his pants, rubbing it to make sure most of the water was off.

It didn’t take long for all of the water to be gone as he hesitantly spoke, “How does it feel now?”

“Better than before.”

Wilbur weakly pulled his body up against the wall. He opened the chest next to him to find it was full of glass bottles. He grabbed three of them out as he closed the chest and put the brewing stand on top. He tried to fill the bottles up in the cauldron, but found that his usual method involved dunking his whole hand into the water.

He attempted to just tip the bottle so more water would enter, but upon pulling the glass bottle back up, he sighed. He knew from his early days that you needed a certain amount of water in order for the potion to properly work. Too much water made the solution diluted, causing the effect to be much more muted than it should be. Too little water made your body feel off the rest of the day, assuming the potion even works in the first place.

“Ghostbur?” He felt an odd pressure on his chest as he imagined the ghost’s whispers from before.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve… I’ve gotta dunk my hand in water again.” He could feel the ghost recoil.

“Alright,” Ghostbur took a shaky breath. “Make it quick if you can.”

“I will.” Wilbur exhaled slowly himself. Although it wouldn’t hurt Wilbur, he felt a sense of unease as he quickly dipped his hand in the water. A muffled groan echoed in his mind. He looked towards the other empty bottles in his hand as he slightly frowned.

“Ghostie, I won’t make you do anything, but I’ve gotta ask you something.” Wilbur didn’t wait for a response as he continued, “The pain you felt was from me filling up one bottle. I could just brew with this bottle and drink the potion.” Wilbur momentarily closed his eyes as the words on his tongue tasted bitter to him, “Or I can fill up the other two bottles in case of emergencies. I won’t pressure you for either option but-”

“Wilbur, I know I should choose the extra two bottles.”

Wilbur cringed at the truth. “I mean- you don’t really have to choose that option. We could just start brewing if you’d like.”

Ghostbur sighed, “I can take it.”

Wilbur despised the words, but he responded, “Alright, my hand is going in.” He quickly filled both of the bottles, trying to ignore the muffled scream that ringed in his mind.

He forced himself to block it out as he turned back to the brewing stand, filling it with the three full bottles as Ghostbur’s noises died down. He rubbed his hand on his pants before taking the nether wart he had and putting it in at the top. Only silence greeted his ears as he remembered he needed some blaze powder to power the machine overall.

He crushed the blaze rod with ease, putting it in as the rest of the process seemed automated to him. He barely processed his movements as he soon watched as the mixture turned into a bright red, He took the glass bottle away from the stand, as he swirled the liquid around, watching it carefully. It was almost hypnotic. He held the bottle to his lips and took a deep breath. “I… I’m going to drink a health potion for my leg.” He bit his lip, “It might hurt a bit.”

“Oh.” Ghostbur said, his voice sounded a little quiet, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Wilbur nodded even if the ghost couldn’t see him, and took a large sip from the bottle. He kept drinking, not removing the bottle from his lips. His throat was burning at the sensation. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling the pain spread through his body, as if the headache from before had decided to pound in his leg instead of his head. His blood felt as if it had momentarily been replaced by the burning potion, removing his attention from anything but it. He tried to breathe his way through it, each breath coming through as a quick hiss.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, before the pain transitioned into a comforting warmth. He opened his eyes again, trying to step down on his leg. The pain had decreased significantly. He let out a relieved breath, and gave an accomplished smile. “It’s much easier to walk now,” he said.

“Is your leg better?” Ghostbur asked hopefully, “Are you going to leave the bunker soon?”

Wilbur frowned. He shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “The leg could still use some time to heal and…” he looked at the bookshelves above, “There might still be some information we can use here.”

“Right.” Ghostbur said, suddenly sounding determined, “That makes sense.”

Wilbur tried to chuckle, though it came out so silently and breathlessly, that it was hardly a noise at all. He took a step on his much more useful leg, feeling relieved as he could walk more or less without limping. He walked to some chests he hadn’t looked at yet, and rummaged through them. If he was planning on staying in the bunker for longer, it would be optimal to know what supplies he had available to him. He was reminded of his exile, before Pogtopia was built, as he and Tommy assessed their remaining supplies, to figure out what they had to work with. His heart became just a little heavier at the thought, and he decided to put the thought away, for as long as he could.

Among the most noteworthy items he found was a clock at the bottom of one of the chests. It looked old, as if someone had forgotten they’d put it there in the first place. Wilbur picked it up, inspecting each side of it. The hands of the clock moved ahead each second, making a rhythmic little ‘tick’ at each step. The sound was comforting to him somehow, ringing through the silence of the solitary bunker.

It read 5am.

It took Wilbur a few moments to figure out if the clock was functional and accurate, though he eventually concluded that it was highly probable. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep, nor for how long, but at least this would let him keep track of the now. Slowly, he walked up the stairs again, much more successfully this time.

As he reached the bookshelves, he stopped, staring at the nearest empty wall. There was a faint ticking from the clock in his hands, and he felt as if he was staring into nothingness. Staring at a silent wall. A half-bent nail was firmly placed on it. Gently, Wilbur placed the clock on it, until it was hanging there safely. He sat down on the chair, and allowed his eyes to close, as he centered his mind. He had a goal in mind, and as soon as possible, a plan would be shaped from the muddled thoughts.

It was time to get to work.

#dream smp #dsmp #c!wilbur #ghostbur #ghostbur angst #dream smp fic #c!wilbur soot #the revived #revivebur

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adorpheus · 4 years ago

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on fujoshi and fetishization

Lately, more and more, both here on tumblr and on other sites, I keep seeing people spew unfiltered hatred at fujoshi - that is, women who like mlm content such as gay fanfic and fanart featuring men with other men. And I don’t mean like a specific type of fujoshi, like the ones who are genuinely being weird about it, but just like a general hatred for girls (but especially straight identifying girls) who express love for gay romance.

I hate to break this to you all, but women (including straight women!) actually are allowed to like mlm fanfiction and fanart, even enthusiastically so. A woman simply expressing her love of gay fanfic, even if it is in kind of a cringey way or a way that you personally don’t like, is NOT automatically fetishization.

I’ve been on the receiving end of fetishization for my entire life, from a very young age, as many black and brown folx have, so I consider myself pretty well acquainted with how it works. Fetishization isn’t just like, being really into drawings of boys kissing, or whatever the fuck y’all are trying to imply on this god forsaken site.

Fetishization is complicated imo, and can encompass a lot of things, such as (but not limited to):

1 - dehumanization, e.g. viewing a group of people as sexual objects who exist purely for entertainment purposes, rather than acknowledging them as actual people who deserve respect and rights

and

2 - projecting certain assumptions onto said people based on their race/sexuality/whatever is being fetishized. These assumptions are often, but not always, sexual in nature (like the idea that black people in general are more sexual than other races, etc etc etc).

I’m going to use myself as an example to illustrate my point. Please note this isn’t the best or most nuanced example, but it is the most simplistic. A white person finding me attractive and respectfully appreciating my black features as part of what makes me beautiful is not, on its own, fetishization. A white person finding me attractive solely or mostly because I’m a PoC is now in fetishization territory. Similarly, assuming I’m dominant because of my blackness (like saying “step on me mommy” and shit like that) is hella fetishistic.

That being said, theres definitely a difference between how fetishization works in real life with real people, and how it shows up in fandom.

Fetishization manifests in many different ways in fandom, but most commonly on the mlm side of things, I personally see it appear as conservative (or centrist) women who love the idea of two men together, but don’t actually like gay people, and don’t necessarily think LGBT+ people deserve rights (or “special treatment” as its sometimes dog whistled). These women view queer men as sexual objects for entertainment rather than an actual group of people who deserve to be protected from systemic oppression. I’ve noticed that they often don’t even think of the men they “ship” together as actually being gay, and may even express disgust at the idea of a character in an mlm ship being headcanon’d gay. In case its not obvious, this is pretty much exactly the same way a lot of cishet men fetishize lesbians (they see “lesbian” as a porn category, rather than like, what actual LGBT people think of when we read the word lesbian). There’s a pretty popular viral tweet thread going around where someone explains seeing this trend of conservative women who like mlm stuff, and I have also personally witnessed this phenomenon myself in more than one fandom.

The funny thing is, maybe its just me buuuut.... The place I see this particular kind of fetishization happen most is not in the anime/BL fandom, from which the term fujoshi originates - I actually see these type of women way way more in western fandom spaces like Supernatural, Harry Potter, and Hannibal. I can’t stress this enough, there’s a shocking amount of people who are like, straight up trump supporters in these fandoms. If you want to experience it, try joining a Hannigram or Destiel group on facebook and you will probably encounter one eventually especially if you happen to be living through a major historical event. Like these women probably wouldn’t even be considered “fujoshi”, because that term doesn’t really apply to them given they aren’t in the BL/anime fandom, yet they’re the ones I personally see actually doing the most harm.

Of course this isn’t the ONLY kind of fetishizing woman in the mlm/BL world, there are other ways fetishization shows up, but this is the most toxic kind that I see.

A girl just being really into BL or whatever may be “cringe” to you, or she may be expressing her love for BL in a “cringey” way, but a straight woman really enjoying BL is not, on its own, somehow inherently fetishization. Yes, sometimes teenage girls act kind of cringe about how much they like BL and that might be annoying to you, but its not necessarily ~problematic~.

That being said, IT NEEDS BE REMARKED that a lot of the “fujoshi” that you all hate so deeply, are actually closeted trans men or nonbinary people who haven’t yet come to terms with their gender identity, or are otherwise just NOT cishet. I know because I was one of these closeted people for years, and I honestly think tumblr and the cultural obsession around purity is one of the many reasons I was closeted so deeply for so long. STORYTIME LOL!!! In my early adolescence, I was a sort of proto “fujoshi”. I identified as a bi girl who was mostly attracted to men, or as most (biphobic) people called it, “practically straight”. I wrote and read “slash” fanfic and looked at as well as drew my own fanart. We didn’t use the term fujoshi back then, but that’s definitely how I could have been described. I was obsessed with yaoi, BL, whatever you want to call it, to a cringe-inducing degree. I really struggled to relate to most het romances, so when I first discovered yaoi fanfics (as we called them at the time), I fell in love and felt like I finally found the type of romance content that was made for me. I didn’t know exactly why, I just knew it hit different. LGBT+ fanart and fanfiction brought me an immense amount of joy, and I didn’t really think too hard about why.

At some point, in my early 20s, after reading lots of discourse™ here on tumblr and other places like twitter, I started to get the sinking feeling that my passion for gay fanfiction was ~problematic~. I had always felt a sense of guilt for being into mlm content, because literally anyone who found out I liked BL (especially the men I dated) shamed me for liking it all the fucking time (which btw is literally just homophobic, like can we talk about that?). In addition to THAT bullshit, now I’m seeing posts telling me that girls who like BL are cringey gross fetishists who inspire rage and should go die?

Let me tell you, I internalized the fuck out of messages like this. I desperately wanted to avoid being ~problematic~. At the time, I thought being problematic was like the worst thing you could be. I was terrified of being “cancelled”, before canceling was even really a thing. I thought to myself, “oh my god, I’m gross for liking this stuff? I should stop.” I beat myself up over this. I wanted so badly to be accepted, and to be deemed a Good Person by the internet and society at large.

I tried to shape up and become a good ally (lmfao). I stopped writing fanfic and deleted all the ones I was working on at the time. I made a concerted effort to assimilate into cishet culture, including trying to indulge myself more deeply in the few fandoms I could find that had het content I did enjoy (Buffy, True Blood, Pretty Little Liars, etc). I would occasionally look at BL/fanfic/etc in private, but then I would repress my interest in it and not look for a while. Instead I would look at women in straight relationships, and create extremely heterosexual Couple Goals pinterest boards, and try to figure out how I could become more like these women, so I, too, could be loved someday.

This cycle of repression lasted like eight years. Throughout it all, I was performing womanhood to the best of my ability and trying to become a woman that was worthy of being in a relationship. I went in and out of several “straight” relationships, wondering why they didn’t make me feel the way reading fanfic did. Most of all, I couldn’t figure out why straight intimacy didn’t work for me. I just didn’t enjoy it. I always preferred looking at or making gay fanfiction/fanart over actual intimacy with men in real life.

Eventually, I stumbled upon a trans coming out video that someone I was following posted online, my egg started to crack, and to make an extremely long story short, after like 3 years of introspection and many gender panic attacks that I still experience to this day, I realized that I’m uh... MAYBE... NOT CIS..!? :|

I truly believe if I had just been ALLOWED TO LIKE GAY STUFF WITHOUT BEING SHAMED FOR IT, I probably would have realized I was trans way way sooner. Because for me, indulging in my love of gay romance and writing gay fanfic wasn’t me being a weirdo fetishist, it was actually me exploring my own gender identity. It is what helped me come to terms with being a nonbinary trans boy.

Not everyone realizes they are trans at age 2 or whatever the fuck. Sometimes you have to go through a cringey fujoshi phase and multiple existential crises to realize how fucking gay you are AND THATS FINE.

And one more thing - can we just be real here?

A lot of anti-fujoshi sentiment is literally just misogyny. omg please realize this. Its “women aren’t allowed to enjoy things” but, like... with gay fanfics. Some of the anti-fujoshi posts I see come across my dash are clearly ppl projecting a caricature they invented in their head of a demonic fujoshi fetishist onto any woman who expresses what they consider to be a little too much enthusiasm for gay content and then using their perception of that individual as an excuse to justify their disdain for any women, especially straight women, ‘invading’ their ~oh so exclusive~ queer fandom spaces.

god get over yrselfs this is gatekeeping by another name

idk why i spent so long writing this no one is even going to read it, does anyone even still use this site

*EDIT: HOLY SHIT WHEN DOING RESEARCH FOR THIS POST I FOUND OUT THAT Y-GALLERY IS BACK OMG!!!

#rant #fujoshi #I SAID WHAT I SAID #personal #gender stuff

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herding-octokittens · 4 years ago

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Tumblr is being Tumblr (or maybe my computer is being weird) so I can’t do a fancy link, but here it is! Mechtober prompt 4: vampires! 13 days late!

ao3

Raphaella La Cognizi had spent millenia exploring what the universe had to offer. She had spent millenia traveling with her crew, her friends, to see as much as she could. She had spent millenia unearthing and discovering everything she could get her hands on. She had spent millenia on learning what others had deemed unknowable.

She was positive she knew more than anyone else could ever know, than anyone else would ever know. She was positive that even though she had so much more to find, she had already found more than anyone else.

It was three days until their next planetfall, and Raphaella had spent nearly a year of travel studying her newest fixation.

Most of what she knew was based on outdated information from Earth and a few vague references from nearby planets. Best as she could tell, the species in question was either entirely fictional, or very, very extinct. Any space faring technology they may have had was long since lost. They had likely traveled to at least two systems, as the old stories and histories were widespread yet consistent. Most interestingly, they appeared to be immortal, or at least extremely long lived. For all the people she had met who wished for and reached for immortality, none (save her friends) had actually ever achieved it. A species that was naturally that long lived was well worth her interest.

Given how much of the information came from well before her time and the other side of the universe, Raphaella had decided that inquiring into the others’ knowledge would be worth her while.

~~~

“So, what are your thoughts on vampires?” Raphaella thought the question was innocent enough.

As she was quick to discover, it wasn’t.

Jonny choked on his drink, quickly turning to the sink to avoid spitting everywhere. Nastya fell out of the vent she had been relaxing in with a startled yelp, crushing the Toy Soldier, who had been attempting to bake cookies. Tim had immediately looked up from his latest incendiary device, fixing Raphaella with a solid glare mixing hatred and incredulous surprise in equal parts. She was half convinced his eyes were about to burn holes through her skull. Ashes, who had been casually leaning against the bar, attempting to mix a drink that would actually kill them in one go, burst out in pained laughter as they slid to the floor.

“I take it they’re real, then.”

Ashes continued laughing as everyone else attempted to regain their bearings. Even the Toy Soldier seemed flustered.

“You’re asking-” They cut off with a choked giggle. “You’re asking if vampires-” Another giggle, this time less repressed. “You’re asking if vampires are real?” The incredulity in Ashes’s question made Raphaella recoil, wings rustling behind her.

“Well, yes. The lore on them is sparse, but I figured given how many alternate dimensions and time jumps-”

“Jonny, Nastya, she’s asking if vampires are real!” Ashes had turned to the First Mate. “You lot heard it too, right?”

Jonny tried to wheeze out a response, but his face had gone rather blue as he continued trying to cough up whatever it was he was still choking on. Nastya merely grunted in what may have been humor, still lying atop the Toy Soldier. Tim was the first to actually verbalize a response.

“I heard it too, Ashes,” he replied, voice stiffly neutral. After a brief moment of consideration, he turned a question to the Science Officer. “Why on Earth do you think we would know if vampires are real?”

This was too much for Nastya, who burst into tears of laughter. The Toy Soldier, who for all appearances had resigned itself to remaining crushed under Nastya, joined the laughter.

“I mean, you’ve all been alive and travelling for quite a bit longer than I have, and everything I’ve found points to the species being extinct but rather widespread, so I figured you might have encountered some in the past. Or the future. Or a parallel dimension. Whenever.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “So, are they real? Have you met any?”

Jonny chose that moment to finally choke to death, so her question was accentuated by a loud thump as his body fell limp. Ashes had managed to climb back up to lean on the bar, but was once again laughing too hard to be functional. Tim hadn’t taken his eyes off of Raphaella, but she thought he was beginning to crack a smile. Nastya and the Toy Soldier had begun extricating themselves, each covered in flour and egg. This process was made difficult by Nastya’s tendency to collapse every time she began to laugh again. The Toy Soldier, expression as unreadable as ever, appeared to be attempting to join in the humor.

Raphaella couldn’t tell if this was the whole peer pressure thing they’d been working on with it, or if it actually found the situation entertaining.

“I really can’t tell if that is a yes or a no, guys.”

“It’s a-” Tim’s careful neutrality gave way to a cough that was almost certainly stifling his own giggles. “It’s a-” Another cough. “Oh, God, I’m not gonna be able to say it with a straight face.” A coughing fit this time. Raphaella frowned.

“It’s a binary question. Vampires are real. Yes or no? This really shouldn’t be that difficult.”

“I know! I just still can’t get over the fact that you’re asking if vampires are real!” Ashes wheezed. Raphaella wasn’t sure how they could run out of oxygen, but they had made a pretty damn good effort at it. “Vampires! Of all the things!”

That was evidently enough to break Tim, who almost immediately fell off the couch he had been precariously balanced on. His bomb came with him, landing on his stomach with a satisfying thunk, cutting off his choked laughs.

“You all are the least helpful- you know what? I’ll go ask Ivy. Save myself the trouble of dealing with you lot.” Raphaella turned away from the rec room and began to stalk away.

Behind her, she heard the scrambling of four people and one thing frantically trying to get up and follow. She didn’t dignify them with an acknowledgement, until Tim appeared in her peripheral vision, bomb in hand.

“So… You’re gonna ask Ivy?” His mask of apathy was long since replaced with manic humor.

“Yes.”

“Can you wait for like, three minutes, while I go find Brian?” Raphaella turned to glare at Tim. “Please? He’ll want to be there.”

“No.” Raphaella turned back to face forwards, and picked up her pace.

“Ugh, fine. Be back in a bit,” Tim shouted from down another hall as he sprinted off. A few smothered giggles sounded from behind her from the four others in her wake.

“I really don’t get why this is such a funny question, and I really don’t like being played for a fool,” Raphaella stated, trying to gauge their responses. From the squelching sound, she would guess Nastya or Ashes had stabbed Jonny. A second squelching sound and sudden thump implied it was both of them, and that Jonny was currently dead. A muted conversation between Nastya and the Toy Soldier confirmed her thoughts. The conversation was followed by the sound of heavy running as they all attempted to catch back up to her, Jonny presumably flung over the Toy Soldier’s shoulder.

“If I’m being honest, I doubt Ivy will be able to answer you any better than us,” Nastya said, attempting conversation. Ashes snorted behind the two of them.

“Are you saying she won’t know, or that she won’t tell?” Raphaella cursed her curious nature. She had now failed twice at not talking to the others.

“Hmm, the second. She may not be as scientifically oriented as you, but she’s got an air-tight memory. I don’t think she’s ever forgotten anything. Ever. Not since-” Nastya cut off with a stifled cough. “Not since the doctor-” Nastya had to pause again, and Raphaella groaned. “Not since the doctor replaced her brain- Tim was right! I can’t do this with a straight face!” Nastya cried as she burst into laughter once again, falling back to laugh along with the Toy Soldier and Jonny, who appeared to have finally woken up.

“You can all go jump out the airlock,” Raphaella called over her shoulder as she made the last turn towards the library. “Just, fuck off into the void. You’d be just as helpful floating lifeless as you are right now.”

“I found him!” Any response from her followers was cut off by Tim’s triumphant shout, echoing down a corridor a few meters ahead. “I got Brian! And Marius. He just kinda tagged along. But Brian’s the important one. And I got him.” Tim exited the side passage just as Raphaella passed by. True to his word, Brian’s wrist was held tightly in his hand and Marius popped out a few seconds later, confusion etched into his features. “You haven’t asked Ivy yet, right?”

“Go die in a hole.”

“Charming as ever, Raphaella. And I’ll take that as a no.”

“You still haven’t told me what I’m doing here,” Brian groaned as Tim dragged him along. “We’re flying through enough gravitational variation right now that I really should be up on the bridge-”

“No, you’ll want to be here for this,” Nastya interjected. “It’s going to be worth it.”

Brian hummed noncommittally, but didn’t pull away from Tim’s grip. Raphaella rolled her eyes and continued stomping on towards the library.

As she finally, finally, reached the open door, Raphaella tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Ivy would understand her curiosity. Ivy would be able to help her research. Her library was, after all, the largest and most complete in existence. Ivy would be able to answer her question.

“Ivy? Are you here?” she called out. “I need your help!”

“Raph? What’s the problem?” The archivist appeared from around a corner that none of the rest had even realized was a corner, causing at least two of them to jump. She paused, eyes scanning the entirety of the crew crammed into the small welcome area. “And why did you bring so many people?”

“I have a question. I have already asked Jonny, Nastya, Tim, Ashes, and the Toy Soldier, and they have been murderously unhelpful.”

“But not Marius or Brian.”

“Hmm, no. They weren’t in the room when I first broached the topic, and I have since been trying to ignore everyone because they are all being assholes.”

“Fair.”

“Thank you.”

“So,” Ivy hops up to sit on a small desk. “What’s your question?”

“Are vampires real?”

Ivy falls off the desk.

~~~

Raphaella swears to herself to never ask any of the rest of the Mechanisms anything ever again.

#the mechanisms #the mechs #raphaella la cognizi #jonny d'ville #nastya rasputina #ivy alexandria #gunpowder tim #drumbot brian #marius von raum #ashes o’reilly #the toy soldier #my fic #mechtober #mechtober2020 #vampires

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plush-anon · 3 years ago

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SCOOB! Stream of Consciousness Review

Here we are folks - I finally review the originally cinematic, fully CGI animated Scooby Doo Movie (one year later... I did not queue this as I thought I had last June - damn you, Tumblr. I’m not changing much here, so enjoy as it was intended).

Created by a team who have professed their affection for this mystery team and their meddling dog too, will this be a lush experience fit to satisfy any Hanna-Barbera fan? Or will it be a hot garbage cash-grab, littered with Easter eggs and references that do nothing to hide a meatless mess of outdated memes and shallow character development?

LET’S

FIND

OUT

Below this cut is my entire stream-of-consciousness review on the SCOOB! Movie, as experienced. SPOILER warning here - I’m digging into everything, no plot points spared.

Here we go~

And we start off with a decent shot of the California coastline (looks like the kids backstory is front and center), some 90s hip-hop synthwave song about California, and OH SWEET JESUS THESE MODELS LOOK TERRIBLE

Ahem

Yeah, this is a problem right off the bat - some of these people in the opening shots look remarkably unfinished - think three shades above “Rapsittie Kids: Believe in Santa” level - and the animation on them is less than stellar.

On the plus side, we do see a fantastic variety of ages, sizes, and races - there’s a brief blink-and-you’ll-miss-it Sikh man on roller skates playing a sitar - but when the designs look rushed in the opening shots, it’s not a fantastic sign. At least they’re brief, but it’s hard to see if this is a lower level of the film’s style due to rushed animation, or if they didn’t care to polish it up as much, given that it’s maybe a 30 second scene.

Still, kudos to actually going for variety in the crowd shots. Minus kudos to making most of the clothes look like Play-doh draped over a Barbie doll. I’m not even kidding on that one, the clothes are super basic and barely have any sign of texture or creasing or even fabric/cut variety. Almost reminds me of the first Toy Story movie’s design for human clothes, yeesh.

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Ahh, our first introduction to Scooby Doo at a Greek gyro food stand. That’s foreshadowing right there folks! 😉

Sadly, he is really weirdly animated in his run sequence - he looks out of proportion as he’s running on his hind legs, and the human animation has really bad consistency - some background characters are really janky, while others actually move really nicely. The characters we immediately focus on seem to be pretty smooth at least, but that’s still very strange.

On a side note: Ruby and Spears Sub Sandwich shop. Nice 😁

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They are reaaaally pushing the super over-the-top dramatic music for a bike cop chasing a dog that stole gyro meat

Why

It’s not even interesting chase music, just generic super-hyped-up chase music

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And now we finally get to see a young Shaggy, standing next to a tie-dye food stand called Casey’s Confections that… sells meat. Hm. Guess WB hasn’t learned after all these years 🙄

Unfortunately, I’m not a huge fan of the kid they got to play him, Iain Armitage. He’s not a bad voice actor by any means, but he just doesn’t sound right for Shaggy. I know that as a kid he’d be much less likely to have a cracking/squeaky voice, but he sounds… it’s hard to pin down a word, but - precocious? Darling? Either way it doesn’t quite match, especially given how Shaggy sounds when he grows up via Will Forte. Just… no connection there.

I tie it down to the particular vocal twangs and nuances the gang usually has. I’ll touch base on that note later I think, once we hit the teenage versions of the gang, but for now I’m just not feeling it.

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On the one hand, I empathize deeply with Shaggy and his Spotify’s unsettling ability to pinpoint his insecurities with song choices, and also deeply enjoy that one small gesture where his fingers kind of shake & tighten around his phone while he takes a deep breath to calm himself- it’s a very nice, subtle sign of frustration

On the other hand we just passed two guys with no nipples and an unerring likeness to a Ken doll in those Barbie movies, so I’m distracted by that now

(between this and Fred’s no-nipples in Happy Halloween SD!, is WB just terrified of giving men nipples in animated movies now? what gives?)

Also distracted by the thrifty lesbians who bought those two shirts that come together to make a heart in the middle, on the store’s 2 for 1 day

happy pride y’all!

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Finally got context for the two sand piles!

Very, very sad context, but still! Progress!

Basically Shaggy’s practicing talking to people in order to learn how to make friends, since he either has no idea how, or has never had a friend before. So he’s trying to learn the right way to do it since his own attempts have failed

And him talking to these sand piles not only counts as practice, but he’s using them so that his mom thinks he’s spending time with friends like he told her

Ow :)

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So ketchup leather is apparently a thing that exists

I’m learning so much today!

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Given that Shaggy has no friends at this stage, but he’s still called Shaggy, I’m kind of wondering if that was a mean nickname that everyone called him, but he was just grateful for the interaction/pretended it was from friends, so he kept it 🤔

Actually, take it back, his mother is calling him that. Family nickname, maybe…?

----

Shaggy has Blue Falcon (classic) and Dynomutt funko pops

noice

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Oof, you can reaaaaally hear the age in Frank Welker’s Scooby voice. Can we get Scott Innes back? He sounds almost identical to his performance 20+ years ago :/

Also talking waaaay too much - even SDMI Scooby wasn’t this wordy, and he NEVER shut the hell up

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Okay wait

So Shaggy met Scooby on Halloween day - then met the rest of the gang hours later?

Huh. And here I was thinking it would have been a few weeks minimum

Although I have to say there is a lot here to work with, if it paces out how I think it does

Shaggy meets Scooby. Bare hours later, he buys him a collar (instead of his mom? weird) and asks him to stay with him, despite not really knowing him. Then, only a couple hours after that, he finally makes some friends… but only when Scooby is with him.

Given that it looks like the gang are all around the same age in the same neighborhood, there’s a solid chance that they’ve taken classes together at the same school. If none of them met/knew/made friends with Shaggy then, but only did so AFTER Scooby came into the picture, that might lead to the argument we know about later when they split up; afterwards, S&SD go to the bowling alley, then get abducted by the Blue Falcon, plot continues. This could make it seem like they were only friends with him at the start because he had a dog.

And the brief scene earlier with the music device shows that he tries to tamp down on his anger/doesn’t really address it - could lead to something more later

hmmmm 🤔

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Wait what

These two kid bullies just came out of nowhere, stole Shaggy’s candy… and then started on about how Halloween is only a marketing ploy to get companies to rot your teeth and go to the dentist more, before throwing the bag through a window and telling the two that ‘your blood sugar will thank us for it!’

Are - are these the brainwashed children of a Karen? Is that what I’m seeing?

I mean we could have had a Red Herring cameo, but apparently informing children about candy conspiracy theories is more important :/

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Daphne: It’s Halloween - no one should go home without their candy

FD&V: *none of them have candy/candy bags*

???????

(Wouldn’t it make more sense if the bullies had stolen their candy too? What the hey man)

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I do find it neat that we actually get to SEE the wires the ‘ghost’ uses to fly in full effect - that’s actually pretty cool, and not really something we get to see up close in older Scooby shows. Most of those just have the bad guy randomly flying about, and the wires revealed after the fact

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Actually, given how FD&V react to this ghost almost immediately… have they already been solving mysteries? It seems like it, given how smoothly they move together to capture him

That’s kind of odd in kids. Like, even in PNSD they weren’t perfectly in-sync on stuff

This then leads to the gang solving mysteries together… in spite of the fact that all Shag and Scoob did was hide in the wardrobe that had the stolen goods, while FD&V captured the dude

Granted, they do ask Shag and Scoob if they wanna join in and say yes, but that seems like an strange jump after what could have been a one-time deal

I just find that a touch odd - esp when they could have had a five minute scene or so of them wandering around the house, touching on some old SDWAY traits. Heck, show that they’re SCARED in some way, and don’t immediately move to tackle what looks like a murderous spirit at age 8-9 or so. Even just showing the kids learning about each other would be enough, but what do I know. I’ve only watched Scooby Doo everything since I was 4 🙄

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Ahhhh, and now for the updated rendition of the theme song

Where they’re all still kids doing everything the teenage gang did in the theme song

It doesn’t look as good as the OG, though - kind of like a computer game simulating the SDWAY intro using the PNSD kids in CGI. It’s honestly strange to see, and a little jarring - especially when we then transition to the older teenage gang right in the middle

Like, we don’t get to see you guys age through the song as you’re chased by/catch different monsters? That could have been pretty neat honestly - shows how long they’ve been doing this

Tho I gotta admit, seeing the Spooky Space Kook with his OG sound effects is pretty awesome, brief as it waoH MY GOD FRED WHY ARE YOU HAVING A ROMANTIC BEACHSIDE DATE WITH THE MYSTERY MACHINE

THAT WASN’T IN THE ORIGINAL AND NO ONE ELSE GETS A CHARACTER INSIGHT SHOT LIKE THIS

WHY

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Huh, looks like Ruby & Spears gave up their subway sandwich shop for a coffee shop

That apparently the gang goes to in order to eat malt shop food

okay?

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Ah, and here’s where we finally look at the voice acting of the older teenage gang. Buckle up folks, cause I gotta lot to say

We’ll start with Fred, bc honestly? I think Efron actually fits him pretty dang well. He’s got a different cadence from Welker, true, but as far as an update goes? I think he’s a solid fit. Very much in line with the all-American kid that Fred’s kind of been slated as for the past 50 years or so, but updated more for the modern perspective. I call it solid (and possibly a replacement for whenever Welker decides to retire).

Next? Oof. Velma is, IMHO, the weakest casting. Velma, no matter her voice actress, has ALWAYS had some form of nasal twang to her voice - that’s part of what makes her Velma to begin with, and helps her stand out. Nicole Jaffe, Pat Stevens, BJ Ward, Christina Lange (PNSD), Mindy Cohn, Kate Micucci, Linda Cardellini -heck, even Haley Kiyoko from ‘The Mystery Begins’ and Sarah Gilman from the ‘Daphne and Velma�� movie understood this! They all had that nasal twang to their voice - differing between actresses, of course, but still recognizable as Velma. Gina Rodriguez though? Honestly, it just sounds like she’s acting it straight. Not bad acting at all, by any means - she just doesn’t sound like Velma, and doesn’t seem to be trying to. (Honestly wondering if she was only hired bc she voices Carmen Sandiego in the reboot cartoon for the lolz fun reference! type connection)

Daphne is sort of similar in voices, but hers is more of a pitch her voice hits - Heather North, Mary Kay Bergman, and Grey Delisle Griffin all have that pitch they hit naturally when speaking. Amanda Seyfried? Does not - in fact, her voice is actually deeper than I was expecting - but it’s not quite as big a difference as it is for Velma. It fits her character type okay, and she does well with it overall.

And finally, the most controversial one: Will Forte’s Shaggy.

I’ll go ahead and say this: he’s not Scott Menville levels of bad Shaggy voice acting. If I were to place him on a list, I’d probably put him around Billy West level - kind of sounds similar via vocal tics (voice cracking, likes and zoinks, etc), but his own voice just overtakes the impression he’s seeking to hit. When I hear him speak, I don’t really hear Shaggy; I just hear Will Forte trying to do an impression of Shaggy.

In comparison: when Scott Innes took over for Shaggy, it was like Casey Kasem’s, just a touch more of a twang to his voice and just a dash over-the-top - but it was still Shaggy, and you didn’t doubt that for a minute.

Same thing for Lillard, but maybe moreso - he was pretty much the most perfect casting for a live-action Shaggy there could be at the time Scooby Doo (2002) was made. Him taking over for Kasem from there made perfect sense: he was honestly the best cast Mystery Inc member of the live-actions, and a lot more recognizable to the general public as Shaggy than Scott Innes was. He could also do different emotions with Shaggy that not a lot of the other voice actors had the chance to do (mainly bc script), so for future stuff they have that flexibility, if they wanted to play around a little more.

With any luck Forte will get better over the course of the movie, but honestly the casting could have been so much better with Matt Lillard and Kate Micucci.

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Shaggy Rogers, evading taxes since 2020

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siMON COWELL??!?

WHAT THE

WHY?!?!?

ALSO HIS CHARACTER DESIGN STYLE IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT FROM THE REST OF THE GANG WHAT IS EVEN GOING ON?!!?

IS HE SUPPOSED TO BE THE SD CELEBRITY CAMEO

IF YOU WERE GOING TO DO A CAMEO FROM AMERICAN IDOL WHY NOT RYAN SEACREST

HE TOOK OVER FOR CASEY KASEM ON THE AMERICAN TOP 40 WOULDN’T THAT MAKE MORE SENSE

aaauuuggghhh

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Also he’s there as a potential investor in Mystery Inc as a detective agency

A music industry professional… is interested in funding a detective agency.

Like… did he miss out on Josie & the Pussycats? Is that why he’s here?

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Wait a minute

Oh noooooo

I know why he’s here

I remember this spoiler

Shit

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And once again, here is your reminder to tell Simon Cowell a great big fcuk you

Only this time it’s for making Shaggy and Scooby feel worthless and saying that friendship is worthless and cannot be counted on for anything worthwhile

Simon Cowell: Professional Dickhead

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Welp, at least this gives a solid reason why they leave: Simon Cowell was being a professional dickhead, and the gang didn’t really say anything against him or interrupt him on his whole ‘Shag and Scoob are worthless spiel’

Or, well... Daphne stepped up some, but more to say ‘they’re our friends!’ rather than ‘that’s entirely wrong, our friends aren’t worthless!’ Better than nothing, but yeesh

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Ahhh, Takamoto Bowling - the emptiest bowling alley in the evenings this side of Coolsville

(no seriously, the past few times my dad has taken my sister and me bowling pre-pandemic, no matter the day or time? it’s ALWAYS got more than 6 lanes of people there, what the heck)

Also Scooby wears three bowling shoes, which honestly makes more sense than I thought it would - that pup goes spinning and sliding every which way on a normal floor, bowling alley floors would be like ten times worse

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here’s a nice little detail - when Scooby sees one of the bowling pins peek out with red eyes and he yells that to Shaggy, Shaggy actually squints and walks closer to see if it actually does have eyes

aww

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Huh, okay

Panicked Will Forte Shaggy actually sounds more like a good Shaggy voice than normal talking Will Forte Shaggy

I can dig it

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Still kind of underwhelmed by the Shag and Scoob disguise scene - wouldn’t it make more sense to have them like, dish up hot sauce or something on a plate that nonsensically makes the robots overheat before they discover their ruse?

Idk, maybe they’re off their game after Simon ‘Dickhead’ Cowell

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Carlton Way - must be named after Fred’s only other voice actor, Carlton Stevens of PNSD

Also Hanna’s Barber Shop is next to Barbera’s Pizza! Cute.

And… Pitstop’s Pink Perfume ad. Wait, who is that? *assorted googling noises*

...ahhh, Penelope Pitstop from Wacky Races! Who, according to Wikipedia, was revealed to have Greek ancestry in the 2016 Wacky Raceland comic book, having been born on the island of Aegina

Now I’m wondering if we’ll see her in this too, given Cerberus...

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Honestly kind of fascinating to see the gang with a police radio in their van

Also fascinating to see that only main characters are allowed clothing variety and texture/creases/folds

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it’s actually really sweet to see Fred, upon hearing that Shag and Scoob are likely in danger, immediately makes a 90 degree turn in traffic

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It looks like they changes Dee Dee’s name a hair - now it’s Dee Dee Skyes, instead of Sykes

It works well for the Falcon aesthetic, so that’s cool

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Shaggy, after Dee Dee tells them that Dastardly’s trying to kill them: Scoob, someone thinks we’re important enough to *mimes slitting throat*!

Scooby: It’s nice to be wanted.

Excellent! This movie has captured Shag and Scoob’s blasé attitude towards death! Now we’re onto a solid Scooby film :D

Dee Dee: Hmm, I hear that!

And they even have a friend to share in their attitude! Splendid!

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Christ, I can work photoshop better than Blue Falcon can, and I don’t even know how to use photoshop

I will give major kudos on his costume tho - it maintains the important elements of the OG Falcon, while still updating it with more bird-related aesthetic, like the feathered appearance of parts of his costume, the split cape resembling the tail feathers, and the talon gauntlets & boots. neat!

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Yooo, Dynomutt, I thought secret identities were still a thing with Superheroes, what the hey are you doing giving it out to a duo you literally just picked up behind a bowling alley

Ngl, I’m kinda hoping we get some scenes where Dynomutt messes up a little like in the OG cartoon - this one feels really serious, which is kind of strange

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Okay now I want to see older!Blue Falcon come in for a cameo

Mainly bc I’m getting the feeling that this one is a major dumbass, and not in the fun and friendly himbo kind of way 😑

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Wait, THAT’S our first look at Dastardly? That’s a bit abrupt, isn’t it?

Also his ship must be pumping thousands of gallons of toxins into the air, that smoke cloud looks hideous. Forget logging into his mom’s Netflix account like the trailer said, EPA should probably be hunting him for sport with a laser cannon, jesus fcuking christ

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Honestly kinda want a plane you can pilot like a motorbike now

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Welp, it looks like we have a fun, mustache-twirly, puns-aplenty, loves-to-be-bad kind of villain on our hands folks! This is gonna be FUN AS HECK

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Eurgh, this scene - the super-stiff-but-stretched-out ‘yeeurgh’ faces really squick me for some reason, but I can’t really pinpoint why

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I have decided I highly dislike the Brian Blue Falcon, or Brian Falcon for short, and would like to see Dastardly tie him to some railroad tracks

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North St for Heather North, and… wait… Funland Carnival? Like where Charlie the Robot hung out?

Apparently that’s in Romania.

A very yellow-greenfilter Romania at that.

Like, I’ve seen blue washes on movies trying to portray evening in the middle of the day so they don’t actually have to shoot at night, but yellow? That’s normally used for deserts and hot days and uhhh

NOT for evenings in a country with landscape like THIS

odd

(I mean I guess they got the mountains and trees right, but still. Yellow filters make a place look arid, which Romania is Not, to my knowledge)

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Dude, Brian Falcon is such an idiot even Shaggy and Scooby, commonly portrayed as the idiots of Mystery Inc, look at him like he’s a moron.

(They are Not Amused.)

Also Brian Falcon is an absolute coward. That’s new. Even Shaggy and Scooby face off against the robots directly in a Whack-a-Mole game and destroy some. Dude, get your head in the fcuking game already, yikes

Woah, Laff-a-Lympics, Wacky Races, Hex Girls, The Banana Splits, Penelope Pitstop, Space Stars, Posse Impossible, and Hong Kong Phooey easter eggs in one shot

Geezus

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Another nice moment: when cornered by Dastardly, Shaggy moves to stand in front of Scooby to protect him

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Dastardly (to Shaggy): I don’t care about YOU. You’re not REMOTELY important!

*proceeds to shoot Shaggy THROUGH the ceiling and up into the highest car on a Ferris Wheel where Brian Falcon is hiding like a man baby*

Welp, so much for a fun and zany villain. Time for this Plush Anon to kill a bitch *cocks shotgun*

I will, too - kudos to the animators for hurting me so badly with the face Shaggy made right before being shot because

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Ehehehhehe, yess, the infamous ‘Dick’ scene

Dastardly: No, I’m a DICK. With a D!

You sure are, you sack of dildos with a D!

This scene had to be put in on purpose - if this had been released in theaters, I just know the adults would be dying in laughter 🤣��🤣

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Shaggy: Brian, do something!

Brian Falcon: Like what?

Shaggy: Like, drop some F-Bombs!

love it 😂

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Is it like movie law now, that if there’s an action scene with a Ferris Wheel in the background, it has to fall off and roll down a mild incline like a wheel? Because it kinda feels like it

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Aha! Dastardly said his drats! Perfection.

Now to shoot him through a ceiling to make them matter even more :D

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OOF.

Well that hurt.

Poor Shaggy - basically internalizing now that he’s the worthless one and weak link of the group now that Scooby is considered more important

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Holy fcuk I’m crying

Shaggy just broke Brian Falcon down to his deepest insecurities without even trying while talking to him

He even used the words ‘imposter syndrome’

Shaggy hon, you’re the best

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Oh hey, Fred, Daphne, and Velma! It’s been a while since we saw you guys again, what are you doing?

Arguing about the metric system and realizing that Shaggy and Scooby reminding them to eat periodically helped them keep a clearer head...

And using the word ‘hangry’.

But then looking through a ridiculously cute photo album of the two and a video the gang took together (the video is honestly really heckin’ cute, 10000/10 would recommend)...

And then getting pulled over so Fred can have a brief ‘oo-la-la’ montage about the pretty blonde cop who honest-to-gods looks like a Barbie doll.

Where Daphne then describes how ugly Dastardly is...

Right before the petite blonde cop who’s maybe like 5’7” at best rips off her outfit to reveal it was Dick Dastardly this entire time, all 7ish feet of him.

And then kidnaps them all along with the Mystery Machine while he makes terribly fun dorky puns

…

...SO BACK TO SCOOBY AND SHAGGY...

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...where Scooby is making kissy faces in the mirror while wearing his Blue Falcon uniform

Hrm, that’s not really better is it

We actually see Shaggy reading (OG) Blue Falcon’s autobiography, and making hurt but snide comments about Scooby’s ego

Which are actually pretty clever tbh

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Cooooooongratulations, Fred Jones! You are now officially a full-on himbo!

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Alas, poor Daphne. While your knowledge of the tropes of your show might have served you well in other places, this was to be a theatrical release once upon a time, and so such knowledge falls to ruin.

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You know, I just realized - we’re never really told HOW the Cerberus skulls work, both in how each skull can be used to find the others, and, presumably, in releasing Cerberus itself. We’re given a brief glance-over of Scooby’s ancestry (and I mean REALLY damn brief), and a quick mention that these are supposed to be Cerberus’ skulls being stolen, but… that’s it. Nothing else is given.

Now, I read the first few chapters of my SCOOB! Junior Novelization, and it actually went into further detail about the skulls themselves and what Dastardly’s initial plan was early in the book - open the gates of Hades and obtain the seas of treasure therein. It acted as an introduction both to the climatic endgame we’ll face at the end of the movie, and to Dastardly, who uses the same disguise trick he used as the Barbie cop when he stole the first one in South America.

(They actually DID plan to use this as Dastardly’s intro, but cut this… 3 minute scene for time. Yeah. See below video for the details - honestly think they should have kept it in. Saves time later and definitely more show than tell, compared to what we got)

youtube

I feel like that would be a better introduction to him than the one we got - hell, it would have fit in quite neatly after the revamped theme song montage. They could have the scene with Dastardly finding/stealing the first skull as an introduction (as above), then have him answer a call or something. Exposit openly “You found the key! Excellent! Now where are we going next?”

THEN cut to the diner/coffee shop scene we had earlier. We still wouldn’t know exactly what the key was/entailed off the bat, and they could still have FD&V find out on their own - maybe by hacking the little robot instead? IDK.

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The final skull is on Messick Mountain.

Cute.

On a side note, I do love how Dastardly’s ship interior looks - very dieselpunk

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Velma just hacked into Dynomutt… somehow, and I finally get my wacky Dynomutt shenanigans! Hazoo!

...sadly that was really dang brief. Realistic, yes, but still too brief.

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Eyyyy, we finally get the whys of why Scooby is needed! … really dang fast.

Also Fred says Jinkies.

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Hey, Muttley popped up! In a shrine… to his demise… that we find out he reached when Dastardly pushed him forward into the Underworld to steal the treasure of Alexander the Great in a portal he rigged up… only for both of them to find out it was a one-way deal unless they used the key to be able to come back. The key, of course, being Scooby Doo, descendent of Peritas, Alexander’s dog.

Eh, workable enough-ish. It’s interesting to see that Dastardly, despite how much he disliked Muttley in the older cartoons, still cares about him to a certain extent.

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Pfff, Fred’s a poor man’s Hemsworth XD

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Sweet, we’re in ‘Journey to the Center of the Earth’ now!

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O W W W

You guys really had to do the ‘me or them’ thing with Shaggy and Scooby… and tHeN hAvE sCoObY cHoOsE tHe FaLcONs?!? Just because they said he was important as “the key” and gave him a spandex costume.

Over at least 7 years of friendship.

Booooooooooooo

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actually no I’m Not Done Yet

This whole scene is a mess.

Shaggy’s turn was really dang fast… but I can still see how he gets to it. It’s at least a day between Scooby being chosen as a pseudo-sidekick and the island arrival, during which Shaggy’s talk with the main adult (who has taken up the mantle of his favorite superhero) essentially confirms his feelings of worthlessness and leaves him to stew for HOURS on end (on top of another adult, Dastardly, who also calls him “not even REMOTELY important” at the carnival before freaKING SHOOTING HIM THROUGH THE CEILING NO I AM NOT OVER THIS). Tie that to a teenager who also believes his only friends have come to think he’s meaningless baggage, and suddenly his entire support system is vanishing underneath him to one of his former idols without ANY sign of hesitation from Scooby’s part (with the exception of the collar scene, but I don’t think that that means the same to Scooby, given how quickly he bounces back)

Scooby tho… hrm. It could be that he’s clinging to the good feelings Brian Falcon inspires in him (by choosing him as the next possible Dynomutt), as a way to overpower how FD&V hurt him, while also building on how he came to love the duo because SHAGGY loved them so much. But the movie doesn’t frame that up… at all?? At least compared to Shaggy.

Idk, maybe I’m missing something, but this scene is a mess through and through

Boooooo

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Scooby: *tries to leap into Brian Falcon’s arms like he did with Shaggy but falls*

Brian: Uh, what are you doing?

Scooby: Rhaggy never missed.

Damn straight he didn’t

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oh hey, it’s Captain Caveman

I was wondering when we’d see him.

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AAAUUGGHH

It’s that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it scene from the trailers I sobbed over - the one with Shaggy holding Scooby’s collar

Fun fact it actuALLY FADES INTO THE FLASHBACK

THAT WAS NOT A TRAILER THING THAT’S ACTUALLY HERE IN THE MOVIE

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Oh No

Fred is here, alone, after that whole scene with Dastardly saying he had a use for Fred

...while that’s likely Dastardly in a Fred suit (that sounds creepy just typing it), I’m still going to enjoy this brief but absolutely lovely hug Shaggy and Fred share...

(seriously tho, look at this, it’s a genuinely close, squish-your-lungs-out kind of hug, I love it)

...as well as Shaggy, who's still hurt from his fight with Scooby, immediately gearing up to go help him after hearing Dastardly’s trying to kidnap him.

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Brian Falcon and Scooby Doo now have to take on Captain Caveman in gladiatorial combat in order to claim the final skull of Cerberus

I love cartoons sometimes

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Captain Caveman just put the smackdown on Brian Falcon and punched him into the ground up to his CHEST

Then smacked him so far into a wall he cracked the stone around him!

GodDAMN is this satisfying 😆 altho minor question here: how did he gain the rank of Captain? Do cavepeople have a naval force?

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He just whirled Scooby around his head, then spun him so fast his costume broke off

I may have to look into some Captain Caveman stuff now, that’s fantastic

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Shaggy and Fred - sorry, “Fred” - just smashed through to the colosseum in the Mystery Machine

And Dynomutt just fired missiles at Captain Caveman to smash him into an Amigara-shaped hole of himself

I REALLY love cartoons sometimes

---

Oh No

Just as Shaggy starts trying to apologize, “Fred” kicks him in the back, rips off his disguise to normal Dastardly self, and kidnaps Scooby atop the skull, before revealing he destroyed the Falcon Fury jet

New tagline for this movie? Shaggy Rogers and the Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Very Bad Day

...at least the rest of the gang is back together?

---

Brian Falcon: *Immediately tries to blame Shaggy for inadvertently leading Dastardly to them, while storming up to get in his face*

Fred: *upon realizing BrianF is blaming Shaggy for everything, without a SINGLE moment’s hesitation, immediately leaps in to defend Shaggy and physically push back Brian Falcon several feet*

We stan one Himbo, theydies and gentlethem

Also?

Velma (sneering): What kind of hero blames other people for his problems? *Walks over to comfort Shaggy with Daphne, while Shaggy looks dumbfounded they’re defending him bc he also blames himself for Scooby’s kidnapping*

This. This right here, is the kind of Mystery gang content I wanna see.

I don’t care how the rest of this movie goes now, this scene right here is ambrosia to the Scooby fan’s soul, and therefore makes this entire movie worth it, outdated memes, lingo, and all

---

Cackling rn - Fred and Brian Falcon are in a point-off a la the Spiderman meme 😂

or, more specifically, the post-credits sequence of Spiderverse where they’re arguing about who started pointing first

It gets better when Velma and Daphne try to pull each other off of their pushing fight, and Velma grumbles “Toxic Masculinity” I’m crying

---

WOAH

More super Shaggy stuff here (apart from being flung through a building roof without a scratch) - he pushes apart both groups effortless, and even knocks them back several feet

If we estimate Dynomutt as… we’ll say 450 since he’s made of metal, Falcon at 220, Dee Dee at 160, that’s about 830 lbs on one side

Then Fred, Daphne and Velma on the other (hmm, 180, 150, 130?) would be around 460 lbs

Dang boi

---

Oh honey no, it’s not your fault

But dang if he didn’t get a good message from it, one I’ve done my best to transcribe here:

“I was afraid that... things were gonna change. And they did change. But like, that’s okay! People can grow. But it doesn’t mean that we’re growing apart. Because the one thing that will never change is that Scooby Doo is my best friend! Ten years ago, a little boy made a promise to a stray puppy that he’d never leave him no matter what. And I’m gonna keep that promise! Now it’s time we stopped that mustachioed menace from opening the gates to the {underworld} and letting loose that fearsome {Cerberus}. So what do you say we get out {of here}, and go get my always-snacking, never-lacking, often-napping dog back? Who’s with me?”

Honestly not a bad message for kids. Things will change, people will change, but that doesn’t mean you have to stop being friends. (Obvs real life exceptions apply, but that’s not a bad note honestly)

...shame that that conclusion comes right the FUCK outta nowhere

How, exactly, did he come to this conclusion? WHEN? What inspired him to realize this, what was the impetus for this specific line of thought, that it’s okay for friends to change?

It kinda feels like this should have been either the happy ending speech given after they’ve saved the world, or one at the start of the third act, like if Shaggy arrives when Scooby thinks he’s chased him away and ruined everything, and Shaggy & the gang still save him. And Scooby asks him why he did that - when Scooby tried to change himself to fit what Brian Falcon wanted, instead of treasuring the friend he still had, or maybe why Shaggy reacted the way he did. THEN Shaggy gives the speech we hear, a la:

“I yelled at you because… like, because I was scared. I was scared that... things were gonna change. And they did change. But like, that’s okay! People can grow. But it doesn’t mean that we’re growing apart. Because the one thing that will never change is that YOU’RE my best friend! Ten years ago, a little boy made a promise to a stray puppy that he’d never leave him no matter what. And I mean to keep it!”

At least that would make a little more sense to me. Again, not a bad speech, but a little rearranging would help to really hit home.

---

Okay, now we’re back with Dastardly in Greece, and suddenly the background people all look MILES better than the ones at the start of the movie. Did they just forget to polish the first two minutes of film, what the heck?

Also, Dastardly’s ship is literally the entire length of the Greek ruins presented o_O

---

HOLY SHIT THE SKULLS TURNED BACK TIME AND MADE THE RUINS INTO AN ENTIRELY RESTORED PALACE WITH THE GATES OF THE UNDERWORLD BEFORE THEM

They’re also colored a very atmospheric neon arrangement that’s surprisingly quite tasteful ^.^

----

The Mystery Machine can fly now!!! eeheeheeeheeheeheeheeee

----

And so we finally see Cerberus, a massive, towering figure with sharp teeth and pffffffhahahhahaa why are all three heads wearing Spartan helmets

To its credit, they’re also wearing basic body armor, wrist guards, tail spikes, etc, but the helmets are killing me 🤣 who thought to stick that onto the dog? Did Hades forget to remove the armor after winning the Gods’ Pet Costume Contest, or was it like that horse in the ATV costume - it felt safer so it didn’t let anyone take it off?

Or was this a precaution against Herakles coming back? These are questions - hilarious, hilarious questions 😁

---

Awww. Scooby immediately runs to the battered Mystery Machine to rip the doors open for the gang!

And… wait. THIS is where that wonderful hug was in the trailers? I thought that was at the end of the movie when everyone was safe!

This now does not bode well. But we’ll worry about that later. Time to enjoy this gorgeous wonderful hug of the entire gang, and Shag and Scoob apologizing to each other for fighting 🥰

Yet another scene to make the rest of this movie worth the rest

(halfway wanna frame this shit and put it on the wall, it’s that lovely)

----

Fantastic! Dastardly is now in Hell, where I’ve been wishing him this entire movie! :D

And dang… he actually apologizes to what he believes is a dead Muttley. Who is, naturally, snickering at all of this. The two bicker predictably, but eventually hug and make up, too happy to see each other to resort to old habits. Honestly a nice little scene, all-in-all.

---

Back to the gang and they’re doing the glowy eyes in the dark bit! I actually haven’t seen that in a Scooby movie forever, it’s neat.

Also Fred is now going full Liam Neeson over his van, war paint and all, using the tire cover as a shield and… holy shit.

HOLY SHIT

THE ASCOT IS BAAAnnnnnd it’s gone. Boy, that was… short.

Fred just ran full-tilt at Cerberus, screaming like a mad man, before getting flicked away by its big toe, and losing the ascot and makeshift shield. It punched so hard his facepaint came off

It was fun while it lasted y’all

---

Heyyy, Shag and Scoob just came up with the plan, and it’s actually solid! I’m so proud, and so is the rest of the gang! Also willingly going to distract Cerberus while the rest figure out how to close the gate and stuff Cerberus back in

I love my boys 😊

---

Annnnd there goes Brian Falcon like the coward he is

To… call his dad? And admit he isn’t a hero.

Only for Dynomutt to point out Shaggy and Scooby are taking him on and are terrified.

This then cuts to Shaggy and Scooby running around in a chariot and gladiator wear, running back and forth a la the door gag from Cerberus to the OG SDWAY theme

I think I love this movie

(although they’re hinting at Dynomutt being resentful of OG Blue Falcon essentially abandoning him to his incompetent son, and I really wish it had been touched upon more

that’s actually rather heartbreaking, when you stop to think about it, and there’s a lot that could be done with an additional two minutes of screentime)

---

Huh, another good message for kids: it’s okay to fail and be scared, so long as you keep going and try to do what’s right.

Two good messages for kids in one movie. Not too shabby, on the whole.

---

Brian Falcon just flew in and punched the three-headed dog, then jumped into its mouth as it tried to eat Scooby, resisted the MASSIVE JAW STRENGTH, and got them out of there safe and sound

Finally, something heroic!

I was wondering where Dastardly and Muttley got off to - apparently they’re off to take a money bath.

Aight

---

Shag and Scoob have now convinced the Rotten Robots to turn into bowling balls to knock Cerberus off their feet a la the classic marbles pratfall back into the underworld

That is a sentence I just wrote

----

OH FCUK NO

ABSOLUTELY NOT NO

YOU ARE TELLING US THAT AFTER ALL OF THIS - ALL OF THIS - ONE OF THEM HAS TO STAY IN THE UNDERWORLD TO LOCK THE GATE

THAT OCTOBER LEAKER WAS RIGHT WHAT THE HELL

LITERALLY SO

I mean i know its a kids film specifically Scooby Doo so happy ending but what the literal FUCK

---

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUGGHHH

SHAGGY NOOOO

“Buddy, back when we were kids, you saved me. Now, it’s my turn.”

and he dOES THIS WHILE HOLDING SCOOBY’S HEAD TENDERLY IN HIS HANDS

AND WHEN EVERYTHING REVERTS IT’S JUST RUBBLE AND RUIN AND SCOOBY’S LEFT SOBBING OPENLY AT NOTHING

AND THE GANG ALL COME TO CLING AT HIM AND CRY OVER THEIR FRIEND WHO THOUGHT HE WAS WORTHLESS MOST OF THE MOVIE AND THOUGH THAT THE GANG THOUGHT THE SAME ABOUT HIM

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHH

---

WELP, TIME TO COPE WITH INAPPROPRIATE HUMOR

Shaggy: I yelled at my dog, got him kidnapped, and ended up helping the bad guy to open the gates to Hell. Guess I’ll die.

Dee Dee: Well actually, this is more Dastardly’s fault because -

Shaggy, yelling as he slams his hand against the lock: GUESS I’LL DIE!!!

----

Ah, so the writers wrote themselves into a corner, and the only way out was a Deus Ex Machina (at least, I think I’m using that term correctly…)

Because to get Shaggy back, a giant statue of Alexander the Great and Peritas appears out of nowhere - literally, since it definitely wasn’t there before - with an inscription Scooby has to read to get Shaggy back.

This would have been a lot more effective if we’d seen it when Dastardly arrived in Greece - maybe even as the marker for where the gate to the Underworld was. Have Alexander facing one way, and Peritas facing the other. You open the gate on Alexander’s side, and come home on Peritas’ side. Having this unfold into the gate gives it more purpose than “magically appears right the fcuk outta nowehere” and you could have a pun with the “backdoor” escape. Everybody wins!

And if that’s too good for ya, how about a brief lingering shot by it at some point as Dastardly flies into Greece, behind where the gate materializes, or directly across from it on the plaza? Maybe have one of the gang kick it after Shaggy leaves, and say ‘This is all your fault! Why would you make something like this?’

It’d still be a magical contrivance, but at least it would make some fcuking SENSE.

(Granted it DID lead to this hilariously ominous shot, so maybe I shouldn’t complain:)

---

Velma: I finally figured out what you guys are! You’re the heart of Mystery Inc.

Me: YEAH BABY! *flips over table* I’VE BEEN SAYING THAT SHIT FOR YEARS AND NOW, I’M FCUKING VALIDATED AT LAAAAAAAAST!

----

Shaggy: *rips off Dastardly’s face to reveal…*

ALL: SIMON COWELL??!?

Me, choking on food: I’m sorry WHAT?!?!?

Velma: *takes off mask again to reveal*

ALL: DICK DASTARDLY?!?

Dastardly: Drat! No one ever goes for the double unmasking.

So I was right all along - Simon Cowell truly was a Dick this entire time.

-----

And so we close on the gang unveiling a Mystery Machine paint job on their official detective agency building, Brian Falcon living the good life as the DJ at their party, the Falcon team gifting a sleek new Mystery Machine to the gang (which honestly looks pretty unique - it’s not the classic, but it is something new that isn’t awful, so kudos there), and the gang on their way to another mystery.

So, at the end of the day is this a good Scooby movie?

Meh? *waves hand in meh motion* But it definitely had its moments.

This Scooby film is flawed as heck, no doubt about it - the plot has a MAJOR problem with telling instead of showing, some parts feeling out of order or WAY too short, and of course the deus ex machina ending. I honestly would have loved some more time for their first mystery as kids, where we actually got more character moments/bonding from Fred, Daphne, and Velma as they solved it the more traditional route, as well as not framing FD&V as super duper mystery solvers right off the bat???

The stuff with Blue Falcon isn’t AWFUL, per se, but it is ridiculously satisfying to see him get smacked around. Captain Caveman was honestly one of the funniest bits in the movie, same with Dynomutt.

As far as the character stuff? It all felt fairly natural, progression-wise. Shag and Scoob don’t have this big break-up with the gang - they’re hurt by the literal Dickhead’s comments the gang don’t speak up against, and go to blow off some steam together. Shag and Scoob don’t have this giant blow-up argument - it builds over the film into a hurt spat they both recognize they overreacted to almost immediately. The gang (FDV) go looking for them almost as soon as they leave, and, upon hearing they’re in danger, turn and head towards them to save them, realizing how important the two are to Mystery Inc along the way. They defend each other, help each other, have some of the Best Dang Animated Mystery Inc hugs I ever did see - THIS feels more like the Gang I’ve been waiting for forever to come back to DTV (and in a rough sense, did). While I do wish we’d gotten more screen time of FD&V, what we got wasn’t too bad.

Weirdly enough, at the end of the day, I’ve actually grown more accustomed to Forte’s Shaggy - it feels like it fits this different style a touch more than I originally thought, and holy hell if I didn’t come close to tears at that ending gate scene, he knocked that one out of the park. Velma still doesn’t feel much like Velma, but I did get used to it by the end. I kept cracking up at Efron’s Fred, and no complaints on Seyfried’s Daphne.

Jason Isaacs as Dick Dastardly absolutely killed it. Blue Falcon Crew was okay (excepting Mark “The Racist” Wahlburg - it was just him talking, no real effort. You could recognize Wahlburg right off the bat, acting as a goofy douche) and freaking Captain Caveman was awesome. Apparently they combined both Billy West and Don Messick’s recordings for Muttley (awesome!!!), so this may very well be Don Messick’s final role in a Scooby Doo film.

It got off to a rough start, but ended well enough. The animation was solid, the writing has some unexpectedly clever and funny moments sprinkled throughout, with some pretty fun action sequences on the side. Watching this, I really do believe that the people working on it love Scooby Doo and all things Hanna-Barbera… at least in their own way.

I ended up buying this instead of just renting it ($5 more, why not) and I am honestly glad I did so. Despite its flaws, it has some great moments with the gang as friends, and I have been Craving That Shit for DECADES

And if these writers/directors ever did another Scooby film? I think I’d be up for giving them a chance - at least so long as we got some more absolutely BEAUTIFUL hugs with the gang

I hope you enjoyed this stream-of-consciousness reaction to SCOOB! (2020)... a whole ass year LATER, admittedly (I didn’t switch my Save Post to Queue, curse my hubris), but hopefully y’all’ve been entertained. Good night everybody!

#scoob!#scoob 2020 #scoob #scooby doo #plush reviews: final thoughts #note to self: never use queue for the big posts

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pernatius · 4 years ago

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Lost in Space Part 9: Ch 1

Summary: Syco and the unnamed Space Explorer question their choices.

Lost in Space on Tumblr

Lost in Space on ao3

At the center, behind the looming figure, a single ray of moonlight shines on the spilled dark, nearly blood-red paint that came out of its sideways bowl. It looks as if the paint is glowing, illuminating this poorly lit and now stuffy room with a red tint, giving the room a sinister vibe.

The figure before Syco has their right eye twitch. Pointy face gulps and bites their lip. One wide-eyed moment later and our captor bursts out laughing. The figures, the accomplices, circling us follow suit. To them, Syco is a comedian. To me, he’s a brick wall. Not a single funny bone in his body, yet they laugh as if he told the funniest joke ever. Saamuki blushes at this.

From nervousness to amusement to returning to square one, attentive with a tad bit of annoyance, Pointy Face’s transitions are awkward. Maybe it’s because they’re no longer self-assured. No longer does pride escape their lips. Discomfort, instead, drifts from their hand gestures as they speak. “I’ll also admit how downright brilliant you’ve been throughout this war. Though, you can’t run forever. At some point, you need to stop. We must catch our breaths before we dare to think of that next step. You already know this before taking that first step. However, we don't know everything. We can't plan for things we don't know. It's impossible. We trip on that crack we didn’t see, and we scrape our knee. It hurts. Badly.”

“We’ve known each other for years, Zeq, but merely knowing is different from friendship.” Pointy Face, or as Syco says is Zeq, raises an eyebrow. “Although, I wish I was wrong. I see I’m faced with more enemies rather than given allies.” That’s what’s been in those blue eyes of his. He’s regretful.

“And that surprises you? I can no longer trade. Supplies are low. My village is dying. Again, my people suffer,” Zeq lowers their voice with the drop of Syco’s ears, “This isn’t personal, Syco. It’s diplomatic. It’s about survival. The sooner this war ends, the sooner I can save my people.”

“How long until they get here?”

“Less than an hour.”

“Then, I have plenty of time to do this.” Out first comes a grunt, then out second comes Syco. The freed Tauvox has Zeq stumble backward and with their words. Those around us motion their hands in a way I’m familiar with. Transforming their fingers into blades, surprisingly sharp for leaves, they take a step forward. They’re halted from taking another when Syco encases Zeq’s neck with his thick fingers. Zeq’s hat falls. It rolls and goes in a little circular motion before stopping and pointing in my direction.

It’s here I notice how tall Zeq is, almost as tall as Syco, but somehow looks several feet smaller than the actual height difference between the two. Zeq is lanky and wilting, so Syco’s hand easily wraps around it and can easily snap it. He’s imposing to them, but not to me.

“You will let us all go, and in return, I’ll let your mayor go.”

“What are you doing? Let me go. Put me down. Don’t you see what I’m doing for you,” Zeq spoke up.

“All you’re doing is delaying my plans.”

“No, Syco. I’m saving you from what’s to come as well. You’ve gone farther than your predecessor, yes, but you will fail just like him. Your, my people’s, and trillions of other’s suffering can end here.”

That moment where our eyes met I thought he was going to do it. I thought he was going to end it all. To let Zeq go than to just squeeze Zeq’s throat until it ripped in half, cemented who Syco truly is. Time has truly lost its touch on him. It no longer means anything to him. He’ll take down those who are in his way. It also cemented their decision in attacking. A blade went through Syco’s chest. He elbowed them, causing the blade to slide out and the others now surrounding him to look at one another. Then, proceed. They slice into Syco’s skin, some of his furs break off from the cuts and scatter across their chests, and in turn, Syco stabs them with his horns. His horns go right through each of them, but all of them easily heal. I see veins stitch themselves back together and soon flesh as well. The same can’t be said about the lifeless, decapitated mayor.

I try breaking free from my troubles, but all it does is tighten the sap around me. I see why the others haven’t succeeded as Syco has. I’m starting to sweat. Saamuki would’ve landed herself to be boiled alive. As for Shiitakee, well, he’s Shiitakee.

The drooping mushroom says, “What I’d do to be lighting up a cigarette right now.”

Three simple strokes of his horn between their swings and the three of us are freed. Syco catches one of their blades between his hands and throws them into the others before turning to us and shouting, “What are you waiting for? Get to the ship!”

Walking across the bridge made me anxious. Running and trying to balance while the bridge sways left to right because of the fight happening behind me still gives me anxiety, but now it's nauseating. At least now it's too dark to spot the ground between the wood making up this rickety path, but it’s too dark to make out what’s what. The bushy branches above let some, not enough, moonlight in. My crown’s fire isn’t enough either. I’d thank Saamuki for glowing on this hectic night if I wasn’t busy running and trying not to trip.

Another obstacle stood in our way as Zeq’s aides don't know when to give up. They’re relentless. They don’t know when to fall. So, now we’re sandwiched between them and the scowled figure from earlier. I get out my blade, and Saamuki prepares to lunge, but it’s Shiittakee that challenges the figure who’s far larger than the three of us. Syco, if he wanted to, could crush Shiitakee just like he did with Zeq. This figure could crush Shiitakee and cause him to explode. I don’t want to see any more guts be sprayed out, so I take a step closer. I could hear Syco still deflecting, and his horns connecting with their blades as Shiitakee proves he’s more than just some whiny quitter. A yellowish gas sprays out of his cap, fuming all around us. The figure, Saamuki, and I cough. Its stench was sucked up by my nostrils and carried to my taste buds. I gag. It tasted like rotten eggs mixed with spoiled milk with a dash of a public toilet. When it finally escapes my senses, another bridge appears between us. The tree beneath us had magically, probably because of that rancid gas, had stretched one of its branches to the ground, puncturing through the ocean of darkness resting beneath our feet. What could’ve been our aggressor just watches as we escape to the makeshift bridge. We enter the darkness, and not a minute after, I hear Syco joining us. This bridge groans with his added weight as he continues to battle on with those several vengeful figures.

Saamuki sends a blast their way. I hear someone slip. They plummet, but I don’t hear them land. So, definitely not Syco. Another blast, but it takes a moment longer before another one of them falls into the blackness below. There’s no third attempt. She turns back around, and I catch an ominous glimpse of the ones left watching us and the now caught up Syco walk the rest of the way. They watch us emotionlessly with their blades remaining.

A wind glazed us once we set foot onto the ground. It's gentle, a feeling I haven’t felt in some time.

Something new happens. Saamuki moves her hands in a circular shape. Little bolts of lightning shot out between her fingers. She breathed out and threw her hands apart. A small, glowing blue orb now floats above us, lighting everything around us within what I guess is a twenty-foot radius. Something scampers away, and Syco moves away from my awe, taking the lead.

I walk by his side the rest of the way to the spaceship. I should feel equal to him now, but there’s still plenty of distance between us before that ever could happen. I feel like he noticed it too, or maybe I’m just thinking about it too much. It’s just strange that he asked me to join him in his meeting with General Knox, interrupting Saamuki and his second-in-command. Saamuki and I look at each other, as his second-in-command continues what he was saying before being cut off by his commander. The two of us know I can’t decline. General Knox has our friends wrapped around his thumb. The last I heard from Syco is that they were in Quadrant Forty. It’s been too long since then. Who knows which quadrant they’re in? After all, finding and having them regain control are the main reasons we’ve let ourselves be commanded by the sweaty Tauvox arguing with the non-sweaty Tauvox. Any information helps. Whatever is going to be said during the meeting definitely is.

I nod. He replies with, “Great. Follow me. The meeting is going to start soon.”

Again, I walk by his side. I steal a glance from Saamuki until she turns to look at the pondering Shiitakee. The second-in-command stalks off, cutting across the hallway and ending my glance at Saamuki.

This room is new. Row by row across the walls, lights turn on. The room is large but not grand. Compared to the other rooms in the ship, even to the rented room shared between Saamuki and me, it’s small. On either side of the room sat two paintings. One of a man I know, Syco’s predecessor, and the other of a Tauvox with white fur. A scar stretches from their right eyebrow to the left side of their jawline. They’re just a picture, but I can sense they’re as much of a brute as The Commander, the terrifying presence instead of that corpse down below.

“Only one other, besides us, has entered this room. You know of him quite well.” I follow the Tauvox to the center of the room. Resting there is a platform with etchings of alien writing. It’s similar to Sakhra’s quilt. Actually, I think it’s the same. It’s just upside down.

I don’t have to look where he’s looking at it. Looking at that painting as long as I did was enough. So, I instead look at him. His expression is the same one he showed back in Zeq’s village.

“Why did you ask me to join you?”

“Because I trust you.” Interrupting him is the platform before us blinking. “Stay out of his sight. Commander Knox does not know you’re here.”

I move away as far as I can as the symbols on the platform float up and spin around Syco. Appearing in front of him is a hologram of that monkey-like commander. Would he and his people be considered cousins to humans? Human’s next evolution? Do they still count as humans? Besides the fur and metal parts, they still look human. I wonder what the Virmuses went through to look like that in the near millennia they split up from humanity.

“Ah, Commander Knox you were able to make it today.”

“Quadrant Forty has been tedious, Commander Syco.”

“Oh?”

“This is not an admittance to the limitations of my intelligence.”

“I would hope not.”

“As of the last report, half an hour ago, we have taken control of half of the quadrant.”

“And what of the three?”

“Same as the last time. Nothing new. Although, they did help me in a tight squeeze this morning.” I imagine Syco to have raised an eyebrow because the other commander continued with, “Again, not me admitting my limitations.”

“Great. Casualties?”

A laugh. “None from my side, but hundreds from the enemy.”

A flinch. The very hand Syco used to kill Zeq flinched. It’s a subtle movement. Commander Knox doesn’t notice, but I do. From that seemingly small action, I now know why he asked me to be here.

#219 #lost in space #my wrting #writers on tumblr #writeblr

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wordsintimeandspace · 4 years ago

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Better With You (4/6)

Due to a petty feud between their respective department heads, Crowley and Aziraphale have been hiding their friendship for months. When they’re suddenly stuck in lockdown amidst a pandemic, Crowley is not coping well. Thankfully, Aziraphale is there for him - but their changing relationship means that keeping secrets from their bosses only becomes more of a challenge.

Crowley/Aziraphale, rated M (for chapter 4). Read on tumblr or AO3.

When Crowley woke, he felt more rested than he had in a very long time. The bed was warm and comfortable as he snuggled deeper into the blanket. He took a deep breath, and the faint trace of a foreign washing powder on the sheets finally reminded him why exactly he woke feeling rested and comfortable instead of feeling like shit.

He was in Aziraphale’s flat. Not only that, he was in Aziraphale’s bed, and he could feel a warm body pressed right against his shoulder. The sudden closeness after the weeks of isolation made Crowley’s head spin.

At some point last night they had managed to pull apart from their lazy kissing, much too Crowley’s disdain, but Aziraphale had insisted that they should eat some dinner. Afterwards Aziraphale had kissed him again, just like he’d promised he would, and they had stumbled into Aziraphale’s bedroom. For the first time in weeks sleep had claimed Crowley almost instantly, washing over him like a wave as soon as his head had hit the pillow.

Last night, he had been way too exhausted to think about anything else but sleeping, but now Crowley couldn’t help but remember Aziraphale’s kisses, both the soft, gentle ones and the ones that went deeper, more passionate. He remembered Aziraphale’s slowly exploring hands as well, the way his fingers had scraped over his scalp and his palms had pressed against his back where his shirt had ridden up. He wanted to get Aziraphale’s hands back onto his body. Heat coiled low in Crowley’s belly at the thought, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

Crowley wasn’t quite used to this feeling - as much as he enjoyed sex on occasion, he could count the number of people to whom he’d felt this exact kind of attraction to on one hand. If it did occur, especially so early in a new relationship, it was usually overwhelming enough that he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

So instead of rolling over and pressing his hips against Aziraphale’s warm body, chasing for friction, Crowley stayed where he was and simply opened his eyes.

Aziraphale was sitting in bed next to him, thigh pressed against Crowley’s shoulder, a book in his hands and his ridiculous glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He looked over at Crowley immediately, lips curling into a soft smile.

“Good morning, my dear,” he said.

"Morning. How long was I asleep?" Crowley asked with a gravelly voice, blinking against the too bright light streaming through the windows.

"It's half past ten, if that answers your question."

"Ugh.” He ran a hand over his face. “Haven't slept that long in a while."

"Looks like you needed it."

"Mhm." The urge to touch Aziraphale properly finally became overbearing, and Crowley rolled over, slinging an arm over Aziraphale's lap and resting his forehead against his thigh. That he could actually touch Aziraphale now whenever he felt the urge was nothing short of astonishing. He heard paper rustling as Aziraphale set his book aside, and a moment later there was a hand in his hair, scratching gently along his scalp and down to the nape of his neck. A shiver ran down Crowley’s spine and he let out a content hum.

“Did you sleep well?” Aziraphale asked, so gentle and quiet that it nearly lulled Crowley back to sleep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, closing his eyes as Aziraphale continued to pet his hair. “And you?”

“Wonderfully. It was a pleasure to hold you, darling.”

Crowley let out a strangled sound from the back of his throat, tightening his grip around Aziraphale’s hips. Aziraphale was going to kill him eventually, if he continued to say things like that. Aziraphale chuckled above him, a happy little sound that made Crowley’s heart soar.

"This feels weird," Crowley finally said, as soon as he trusted his own voice again.

"What does, darling?"

"Being happy. When the world outside is still going to shit."

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. "I know. But there's nothing else we can do."

"Guess not."

"The best we can do is to keep us and others safe by just staying put."

Crowley cracked an eye open, smirking up at Aziraphale. "Staying put, eh? Is that your way of saying that you want to keep me in bed all day, angel?"

Aziraphale laughed again, tightening his grip in Crowley’s hair for just a moment. It was enough to send a shiver down Crowley’s spine. “As tempting as that is, I think breakfast is in order first. I have been watching you sleep for a few hours now and I’m getting a bit peckish.”

“You could have gotten up, you know.”

“And leave you all alone? Absolutely not.”

Reluctantly, Crowley pulled away from Aziraphale. He rolled on his back, looking up to him. Heat rushed to his cheeks. “Look, what happened yesterday doesn’t mean I need supervision 24/7 now,” he said, squirming under Aziraphale’s attentive gaze. “I’m alright, really. No need to coddle me.”

Aziraphale only smiled down at him. "I'm not coddling,” he said softly. “But you've seen my books - I simply like to be careful with things that are precious to me."

Crowley let out a groan and buried his face in his hands. Yep, this was definitely going to kill him. "Fuck, you're a sap. I should have known you're a sap."

“Yes, darling,” Aziraphale said with a chuckle. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to that. Come on, breakfast now.”

Crowley didn’t protest as Aziraphale pried his hands away from his face and pulled him out of bed. As soon as they were upright Aziraphale’s arms were around him, soft belly pressed against Crowley’s lanky frame. Their lips slotted together like it was the most natural thing in the world. They got lost in the kiss for a while, quietly exploring each other’s mouths as they held each other close.

Crowley grinned as they eventually pulled apart. “I’m not the breakfast you had in mind, am I?” he asked.

“No, you’re a menace,” Aziraphale huffed, but he was smiling, so Crowley only snickered as Aziraphale finally ushered him out of the bedroom.

It was terribly domestic, standing in Aziraphale’s kitchen in their pyjamas with sleep rumpled hair, dancing around each other and stealing kisses as Crowley made tea and toast and Aziraphale scrambled eggs in the pan. As soon as they sat down at the table with their plates Crowley realized that he was actually hungry and scarfed down his breakfast in a matter of minutes, while Aziraphale took each bite carefully, savouring the taste, letting out pleased little hums. Crowley smiled to himself, happy to sip his tea and watch Aziraphale eat. It was good that some things didn’t change between them.

“What do you want to do today, my dear?” Aziraphale asked when he was finally done and pushed the plates aside.

“Dunno.” Crowley stretched his arms above his head, wrinkling his nose. “I think I need a shower first.”

Aziraphale regarded him with a careful look and was quiet long enough that Crowley started to squirm in his seat. “You know,” Aziraphale started slowly, reaching for Crowley’s hand that rested between them on the table. “I have a perfectly comfortable bathtub as well.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him. “Oh?”

Gently, Aziraphale lifted Crowley’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Crowley shivered at the soft caress. “Yes. Would you allow me to run you a bath? Take care of you?”

Crowley’s heart skipped a beat. The notion of Aziraphale wanting to take care of him after Crowley had always been left to fend for himself for as long as he could remember was both exhilarating and completely overwhelming. He suddenly felt achingly vulnerable, sitting there while Aziraphale’s piercing blue eyes never left his face. Aziraphale had always read him like a book, so there was no way Crowley could hide how much he yearned for exactly that. Crowley realized with a start what sort of power Aziraphale held over him. The thought should have been terrifying, maybe, but it only made Crowley’s head swim in the best possible way. Aziraphale could easily use all these things against him, but instead he showed him nothing but love and kindness, offering what Crowley wanted and needed without him even having to ask for it. Crowley let out a shuddering breath.

“Yes, please,” he finally managed to croak out, and was rewarded with a blinding smile on Aziraphale’s lips.

“Wonderful.”

“But I want you to join me,” Crowley blurted out before he could stop himself.

Aziraphale went still. He slowly lowered Crowley’s hand onto the table and Crowley’s stomach dropped. “Crowley, I think we should talk about a few things,” he said with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I-” Crowley stammered, but Aziraphale just went on.

“I did say that you should take all the time you need for this conversation, but I think I need to understand what being demisexual means for you specifically. Just so I know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries on accident.”

Heat rushed into Crowley’s cheeks. “I- I did not mean it like that, when I asked you to join me,” he spluttered. “I just want to be close to you. Touch you. And I don’t mind being naked around people I trust, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were shining. “I cherish your trust in me,” Aziraphale said softly.

Crowley tore his gaze away from Aziraphale’s face, blushing even deeper. “I’m- yeah. Course I trust you. And, um, I’m generally comfortable with the stuff we’ve been doing. Cuddling. Kissing. Kissing is great. And, um, sexual attraction or not, I still like sex. Just for the record. With, err, the right person. I just need to go slow, sometimes.”

“And do you think I could be the right person?” Aziraphale asked, his voice calm and even. He was really just asking, Crowley realized with a start. There was no expectation, no hidden hope - all the things that could easily make Crowley too uncomfortable to try these things. He let out a long breath and got to his feet, leaning down to Aziraphale to cup his round cheeks in his hands.

“Aziraphale,” he breathed out. “You’re the most right person that has ever existed on this planet.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched. “And you say I’m the sap.”

Crowley groaned. “You are. And you’re already rubbing off on me. You’re a terrible influence, angel.”

“Nonsense. No matter how much you like to pretend otherwise, you’re already sweet all on your own, aren’t you?” Aziraphale asked, his eyes sparkling.

Crowley pulled him closer, burying his nose in Aziraphale’s soft white curls to escape his gaze. “Hnk, yeah, well,” he mumbled. “Maybe. Don’t tell anyone.”

“I would never,” Aziraphale reassured him, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s waist.

“Come on then. Bath now. You don’t want to make empty promises, do you?”

“Of course not. Come along, my dear.”

Aziraphale led him into the bathroom, where Crowley leaned against the sink as he watched Aziraphale fuss first over the temperature of the water and then over his impressive collection of bath supplements. Soon steam was rising in the air, along with the soothing smell of lavender, and Aziraphale stepped away from the tub while he let the water in. He stopped right in front of Crowley, grabbing the hem of Crowley’s shirt.

“Can I take this off?” he asked. As soon as Crowley nodded his consent, Aziraphale pulled the shirt over his head. Crowley shivered as Aziraphale ran his hands down Crowley’s side, and held his breath as they came to a stop on his hips. Aziraphale gave him some time, his thumbs drawing small circles onto Crowley’s skin until finally Crowley relaxed and let out a breath.

Aziraphale smiled. “This as well?” he asked, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Crowley’s pyjama bottoms.

“Yeah,” Crowley croaked, heart skipping a beat as Aziraphale slid both his pyjamas and his boxers down his hips. Crowley stepped out of them, squirming a little after he was suddenly naked while Aziraphale still had to lose one of his too many layers.

“Beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed out, running his fingers up Crowley’s sides and over his shoulders, pulling him down enough to press a kiss to his lips. “Get into the bath, dear, before you get cold.”

Crowley complied and stepped into the tub, letting out a groan of pleasure as he submerged into the hot water and the pile of bubbles. It was the perfect temperature, and he stretched out in the comfortably large tub, closing his eyes for a second.

“Comfortable?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley opened his eyes again. Aziraphale was still fully dressed, and that just wouldn’t do. “Almost. Strip and get in here, angel.”

Aziraphale blushed at the command, but obediently started on the buttons of his pyjamas. Crowley watched with bated breath as he popped open one button after another, revealing a soft white undershirt.

��Do you have to stare?” Aziraphale huffed as he slid the shirt off his shoulders and nervously fingered the hem of his undershirt.

“Yes,” Crowley grinned. “Come on, Aziraphale, you can’t possibly be shy now after you just stripped me naked.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale hesitated just a second longer before pulling the shirt over his head. He searched Crowley’s gaze as soon as he sat it down onto the neat pile of clothes, a hint of vulnerability shining in his eyes.

“Angel, you’re gorgeous,” Crowley reassured him, letting his eyes wander over Aziraphale’s naked torso. And he was, every inch of his skin. His thick arms, his sturdy shoulders, and his soft, round belly with faint stretch marks at his sides that were just begging to be kissed. Crowley filed the thought away for another time.

Aziraphale blushed under Crowley’s gaze. “You really think so?”

“Yes,” Crowley breathed out. “Absolutely breathtaking. Honestly, I might swoon at the sight so you better get in here to make sure I don’t drown.”

“Such a romantic, you are,” Aziraphale said with a roll of his eyes, but he finally complied. He pushed his pyjama bottoms off his hips, folding them neatly before stepping towards the tub. Crowley scooted forward so that Aziraphale could slip into the bath behind him. As soon as he was settled Aziraphale reached out to him, urging Crowley to lie back.

Crowley relaxed against him, breath stuttering as he took in all the sensations.

Hugging and cuddling and kissing, everything they’d been doing since the previous day, had already been great. It had been enough to calm the buzzing under Crowley’s skin that constantly longed for touch. But this was even better. It was glorious: Aziraphale’s naked chest against his back, his thighs bracketing him on either side of his hips, one strong arm wrapped around his belly to keep him snug against Aziraphale while the other hand gently stroked his chest.

“How is this?” Aziraphale asked, his voice low and rumbling in Crowley’s ear. “Comfortable?”

“Yesss,” Crowley hissed, closing his eyes in bliss as Aziraphale’s breath ghosted over his neck.

“Good. I’m glad.”

For a while, they just quietly enjoyed each other’s closeness. Crowley blinked wearily as Aziraphale shifted behind him at some point, and then needed a moment to realize that Aziraphale was holding a washcloth over his chest.

“Allow me?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley gulped, his heart swelling with affection. He could only nod.

Oh so gently, Aziraphale ran the washcloth over Crowley’s skin. He started with his hands, carefully caressing every finger before moving over his palm and his wrist and finally up his arms. Aziraphale moved to Crowley’s neck, slowly dragging the soft fabric of the washcloth over the sensitive skin there, and Crowley bit his lip to stifle a moan. Aziraphale was still so close, his lips pressed to the side of Crowley’s head just over his ear, that he had no doubt Aziraphale heard it anyway. Aziraphale didn’t seem bothered and only moved on to Crowley’s shoulders at the exact same slow and torturous pace. Crowley’s head was spinning by the time he finally moved down Crowley’s chest. He tried not to squirm in Aziraphale’s grip as he moved the washcloth over his nipples, afraid it would make Aziraphale stop, but he couldn’t suppress the quivering sigh as Aziraphale’s touches wandered down his stomach.

It wasn't necessarily sexual, Crowley mused, the gentle touches intended to provide comfort instead of making him all hot and bothered, but his body didn't seem to get the message. He was throbbing by the time Aziraphale moved the washcloth over Crowley’s hips, carefully avoiding where Crowley wanted him most. A whine escaped Crowley’s lips before he could stop it.

“Darling,” Aziraphale whispered in his ear, tightening his grip around Crowley’s waist. “Do you want me to touch you?”

Despite everything, Crowley couldn’t resist a bit of a quip. “You are touching me,” he gasped. “And it’s great, don’t you dare stop.”

Aziraphale laughed, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You know what I mean. Do you want me to touch your cock, darling.”

A strangled sound escaped Crowley’s throat as Aziraphale’s words sent a rush of heat through him.

“Or would you rather do it yourself?” Aziraphale continued, his voice low. “Do you want some privacy, or would you let me watch how you bring yourself pleasure?”

Crowley gasped, head swimming with arousal. “No, please. Please touch me,” he begged.

“Will you tell me if you change your mind? Whenever something doesn’t feel good?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Angel, please.” Crowley knew he was whining by now, but he felt like he might combust if he didn’t get Aziraphale’s hand on him right this second. Thankfully, Aziraphale finally took pity on him. A groan escaped Crowley’s lips as Aziraphale wrapped his hand around him.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Aziraphale murmured as he stroked Crowley, slowly and oh so gently. Crowley only barely resisted the urge to buck his hips, trying to get more friction. Aziraphale continued exactly like he had explored the rest of Crowley’s body before: carefully and thoroughly, not changing his unhurried pace until Crowley was panting and squirming in his arms. Only then did he speed up his movements, gripping him tighter, all while murmuring quiet words of praise into Crowley’s ear. Strung up as he was, it didn’t take much more to take Crowley right to the edge.

“Let go, my darling. I’ve got you,” Aziraphale whispered right before he latched his lips onto Crowley’s neck and sucked. Crowley tumbled over the edge as pleasure surged through him, white-hot and blinding. He gasped and shuddered through his release, only vaguely aware of Aziraphale pressing soft kisses to his neck and gently stroking his stomach.

Eventually, Crowley went slack in Aziraphale’s arms as he caught his breath. “Christ, angel,” he finally managed to get out.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Good?” he asked, sounding just a little bit smug.

“Yes. Obviously.” With the last bit of his strength, Crowley turned in Aziraphale’s arms to catch his lips with his. They kissed for a long while, slowly and without hurry, until Crowley couldn’t ignore any longer that Aziraphale was still hard against his hip.

He pulled away from the kiss and reached out for him, but Aziraphale caught his hand and brought it to his lips instead. Gently, he pressed a kiss to Crowley’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” Aziraphale said quietly, a soft smile on his lips. “That’s for another time, if you want. Rest now, my darling.”

Crowley half-heartedly grumbled a protest, but he was tired, all of a sudden, worn out by the last weeks and the sudden onslaught of emotions since the last day. He collapsed back against Aziraphale’s chest and closed his eyes again, nuzzling into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck. With Aziraphale’s lips pressed to the crown of his head, he let himself be held until the water grew cold.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic #crowley x aziraphale #my fic #my fic: better with you #have a bunch of fluff #and a little bit of smut at the end #there'll be some actual plot in the next chapter I promise

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catsafarithewriter · 5 years ago

Note

“That’s the creepiest statue I’ve ever seen and it’s just casually sitting in your living room.”

A/N: Hello folks, yes I am still working on these; just trying to find the best angle (ie: funniest, fluffiest, or angstiest) to write these from, and this one definitely falls in the funniest category. I doubt this was what you had in mind, chez, but I think you’ll enjoy it regardless :)

Also apologies for the weird “keep reading” placement; tumblr decided to place it in the ask, and now I can’t remove it. :/

“That’s the creepiest statue I’ve ever seen and it’s just casually sitting in your living room.” Hiromi prodded the figurine resting along the bookcase and made a face. “His head’s too big for his body and he has the teeth of a chipmunk.”

Haru leant over and slapped Hiromi’s prying hand away. “That’s because he’s a nutcracker, Hiromi. He’s meant to look like that.”

Hiromi wrinkled her nose. “Even with those teeth, I don’t think it’ll do a very good job of cracking nuts.”

“It’s decorative.”

“You mean useless.”

“So is your lounge window, but you don’t see me judging you.”

“You did judge me.”

Haru rolled her eyes. “Okay, but you used the latch key as a screwdriver and broke it. How could I not judge you?” She shook her head and moved the nutcracker pointedly out of Hiromi’s reach. “Anyway, a friend brought him back from their travels as a gift, so he’s staying.”

“Which friend? The hot English guy or...?”

Haru regretted introducing Hiromi to Baron, even if he had been conveniently human at the time, because Hiromi had immediately latched onto the truth both her and Baron had been politely ignoring in that they were both head over heels in love with one another. Hiromi didn’t know about complications such as immortal lifespans or Creations and had shamelessly made it her personal project to get them together.

Haru didn’t meet Hiromi’s knowing gaze, and tried to remember if Hiromi had ever met Louise. “No, his, um, sister.”

“Oh. The hot English lady then.”

“Yes.”

“Is she taken or...?”

“She’s married, Hiromi.”

“Drat. She’s cute.”

“Yeah. And married.” Haru shooed Hiromi out of the lounge. “Now if you’ve quite finished judging my interior fashion design, we have a movie to get to, remember?” She grabbed her coat and passed Hiromi’s jacket across. Honestly, if that was how Hiromi reacted to a nutcracker, Haru couldn’t pretend to imagine how she’d respond to seeing Baron’s figurine form.

Perhaps it was just as well she’d met his “hot English guy” form instead.

It was midnight when Haru awoke to the sound of scuffling.

She turned over in her bed and watched her clock mark the passing of one day to the next, and mentally berated the Bureau. Seriously, was it that difficult to let her sleep? Or at least give her a warning before they crashed her place with news of a fresh case?

She admitted defeat and rolled out of her room, pulling her dressing gown tight around her and rubbing the sleepdust from her eyes.

“This better be urgent, Baron, or I’m going to tie all your bows into Gordian knots--” She froze.

She hadn’t stepped into a sheepish Bureau, as she’d been expecting.

Instead, she seemed to have stepped right into a tiny battle that was ensuing between an army of rats and the tin soldiers that Haru had bought for Hiromi’s next DnD session. She could see the remains of their packaging torn and ripped as if burst open from the inside.

“I’m still sleeping,” Haru muttered. “That’s it. This is a dream. This has to be a dream, because this is too weird, even for me, and I’ve almost been eaten by plants at least twice. I’m clocking out at rat wars in my lounge.”

A rat sank its teeth into her foot and she yelped and kicked the creature into the wall. Bloody bite marks decorated her skin. “Okay, maybe not a dream,” she grumbled. She inspected her foot. “You lot better not have rabies...”

There was a roar of triumph as several of the tin soldiers discovered the tactical merit of dropping heavy books on the rats below. Haru yelped as she spotted her signed book of urban legends get merrily tossed over the side. She snatched up the next upcoming causality before it could join the rest. “Stop that!”

There was a tearing sound, and Haru turned just in time to see a rat slide down the curtains, its claws leaving long slashes in the material. She slammed the book into the rat. “I have fought pirates and kings and slime monsters,” she roared, “and I am not going to let you be the ones to ruin the deposit on my flat!”

She gave the rat another hit and punted it across the room.

Just in time to spot the tin soldiers setting up the miniature catapult.

Haru took a moment to appreciate how they had managed to cobble together a working catapult from elastic bands, lollypop sticks, and a spoon, and then another horrified moment to register the eggs they were using as ammunition.

“Oh my god, don’t you dare--”

An egg hit her sofa.

Another the TV.

A third painted a very yolky picture across her window.

In fact, very few seemed to be actually hitting the rats they were aiming for. Trust them to have stormtrooper aim.

“Charge, men!” cried the de facto leader, armed with a fork and a head too big for his body. The nutcracker. Naturally. “Let’s show these rodents what we’re made of!”

“If Louise had any idea about this...” Haru muttered mutinously. She admitted defeat and grabbed the communication gem Baron had given her to contact the Bureau. She was going to need some back-up. As it began to glow, there was a decidedly rodent cheer, and Haru looked up just as the nutcracker was captured by who Haru could only guess was the Rat King, given the crown seated atop his head.

“At last,” the Rat King gloated in a voice that made Haru wonder if he had been born with that voice, or had carefully cultivated it to fulfil his evil role, “I have you in my clutches! Now, should I turn you into matchsticks or firewood...?”

“Not on my watch,” Haru said and she grabbed the nearest thing to hand - her slipper - and pitched it across the living room. It slammed into the Rat King with about as much force as... well, a slipper.

Maybe she should have grabbed a book instead.

Regardless, she suddenly found everyone’s attention on her - a hundred beady little rat eyes and a dozen soldiers’ gazes - and raised her other slipper. “I’m warning you, I’ve got friends in the Cat Kingdom and I’m not afraid to call them!” She tilted her palm so they could see the communication gem, which was still glowing with no reply.

She didn’t have to call her bluff, though, for the mere mention of cats sent a rattle of nerves flooding through the rats.

“Cats?” she heard hissed. “The Cat Kingdom?”

“My aunt was eaten by a cat.”

“One caught my great great grandfather and they say it took an hour for it to finish him off.”

“A whole kingdom of cats?”

“I’m not sticking around for them to arrive.”

“Me neither.”

Haru watched with surprised relief as the rats scurried away.

“Wait!” the Rat King cried. “It’s a trick! She’s...” He trailed off as he abruptly found himself very alone and very outnumbered.

Haru grinned and leant in to the Rat King. “This is the bit,” she whispered conspiringly, “where you run away.”

The Rat King gulped and nodded. “Okay.” He fell back onto all four paws and scampered after his minions. “Hey, wait up! Wait for me!”

With a fair bit of earned smugness, Haru straightened and smoothed out her dressing gown. “Not bad, even if I do say so myself... aww, I’ve got egg on this--″

“Lady! You have saved us!”

“--and I thought I was doing so well until then...”

“Our lives are in your debt!”

Haru blinked and registered the figurine that was currently hugging her leg. “Oh, right. Sure. All in a day’s work with the Bureau, now if you’ve got any solution for how to get egg out of cotton...”

“We must reward you!”

“Sure, sure, just buy me a new dressing gown and we’ll call it quits.”

“Such a trivial gift is not enough to show our appreciation!” the nutcracker cried. “I am the prince of the Doll Kingdom, trapped in this world until I defeat the Rat King who overthrew me, but now I can return home--”

Haru blinked again. Rapidly. “Oh no.”

“--and I shall do so with you by my side!”

The gem in her hand chimed, and Baron’s voice rose up. “Haru? Haru, are you okay? What’s happened?! Why are you calling in the middle of the night?!”

Haru wet her lips and raised the communication gem to her mouth.

“Baron, you’ll never believe this,” she said, “but I’ve just rescued another prince...”

#chez-pezeater #replies #cat writes #the cat queues #also hiromi is definitely not straight #just saying #also there's a shrek reference in there i think #I don't think I'll continue thi #I just entertained myself with the idea of haru rescuing another prince #and being pronounced rewarded with a kingdom #also haru getting angry over the mess that a rat battle causes #adulthood is discovering that all the adventure gets suddenly less exciting when you have to tidy up afterwards

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ancientwastedlores · 4 years ago

Text

The Support System (Ch: 4)

SUMMARY: The Avengers have managed to collect all the infinity stones across the universe, and are currently keeping them in far corners of the world, only for research and to see if they can improve the planet and its people. Reader is a researcher with Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, as well as a field agent. Loki is currently serving time for his actions in New York City in 2012.

A/N: Find this chapter on AO3 here. Links to the first three chapters are below. Let me know if you want to be tagged when I post new chapters, and also my ask is open for fic requests :) I might take some time to get to them, but I WILL get to them!

AO3: The Support System Tumblr: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Chapter: 4/? Warnings: N/A Audience: general.

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CHAPTER 4:

The next morning, you wake up with Loki’s arm and leg draped over you. You get out from under it and peer at the TV. It’s paused on the fourth episode. Maybe Loki saw you had fallen asleep, or maybe it was the other way around... you don’t remember. You leave him to sleep and go to brush your teeth, amazed at how completely normal you’re treating this to be.

For whatever reason, you’ve seen Tony Stark get drunk, but never seen him hungover. The man is a miracle worker. Bruce is holding his head in his hand, and no one else wants to talk, but Tony is practically bouncing off the walls. He must have 15 cups of coffee in him, you think to yourself.

You sit down at the table with the Avengers, who all lift their heads to look at you.

‘What?’ you ask. ‘It’s your turn to make the breakfast, didn’t you remember?’ Tony asked.

You shoot up, having completely forgotten that the cook doesn’t come in on weekends and the responsibility for breakfast and dinner falls on one Avenger a week.

‘Sorry sorry sorry, I’ll get right to it, give me a few minutes’. ‘No worries, we’re still working on our coffees. We haven’t been up long’ Nat reassures you.

You smile at her and then run frantically run get your ingredients together.

‘Good morning’ Thor walks in, all smiles. Everyone else groans at the noise. Another man you’ve never seen hungover, but it would make sense for a god, wouldn’t it?

Bruce turns to look at Thor, then narrows his eyes. ‘Did I… Did I cry last night?’

‘Yeah, you cried because that child over there…’ Tony points at you, ‘lifted Thor’s hammer’ ‘I’m not a child, I’m 22 years old’ you protest. ‘Yeah, okay kid’ Tony says. ‘Hello’ Loki greets and another round of groans greet him.

You quickly jump to defend that to him, ‘They’re just terribly hungover, Loki’.

He smiles at you and walks over. ‘Can I help you?’ ‘You actually can. Tell me you know how to make poached eggs?’ ‘I wish I could’ ‘Can you toss some tomatoes around in a pan?’ ‘Never done that before, I could try?’ ‘Can you slice the bread?’ ‘Yes, that I can do for you’.

You hand him a large bread knife and a loaf of uncut brown bread, and instruct him to cut the slices thick.

Tony’s eyes widen at you handing Loki a knife that large, but says nothing. You notice, and badly wish to make a show of it, but decide not to.

You turn to the stove to make your poached eggs, while the crust of the bread cracking under the knife act as music to your ears. You don’t cook much, but when you do, you love to smell and touch and hear everything. Loki cuts the slices as instructed, and after toasting them, and places them all on plates, ready for you to lay the eggs on them. You add tomatoes and mashed potatoes to the plate as well, and wash your hands quickly to cut some fruit.

Loki leans over as you cut an apple. ‘Can I show you something?’ he asks. You look up from your task without stopping it, ‘Of course’

He creates five clones of himself, which each take two plates and walk to set them down on the dining table. You laugh. ‘That’s amazing!’

Everyone else is sceptical, but hearing your laughter, they stay put. They still glare at all the Lokis setting their plates of food down, but the clones promptly vanish after the task.

‘You could cook us an entire meal and not lift a damn finger’ you tell Loki.

He looks genuinely glad you enjoyed the show. He takes the one remaining plate that’s yours and waits for you to bring the fruits over. You finish up, wash your hands again, and sit at the dining table with the rest. You notice Loki has shifted from his usual seat to one right across from you. You steal glances at him while you eat, recounting the previous night when you watched Doctor Who together. However, it’s the episode you keep recounting, not actually sitting next to Loki watching it.

‘What plans today?’ you hear Tony ask. ‘Pep and I are going down to Clint’s, he said he needs help fixing up some farm equipment’. ‘Can Bruce and I join?’ Natasha asks, to which Tony says yes.

Everyone else has plans outside; Rhodey has a camping trip planned with his friends, since it’s a three-day weekend. Vision and Wanda are moving out of the tower to a nearby apartment, and want to set that up, and Thor wants to take Jane to Asgard.

After everyone has ticked off their plans, they ask you what you plan to do. Normally, you join in on whatever Tony is doing, other times you meet with your friends from back in S.H.I.E.L.D, but you see that Loki has no plans, and no one has included him in theirs either. You look across and notice him picking at his food, trying to not think about it.

‘Oh, I’m staying in the Tower with Loki and marathoning Doctor Who again’ you say.

You feel Tony’s gaze burn into you, while the others silently continue to eat.

‘Have fun’ you hear Bruce say. It sounds forced. ‘You too’ you still say.

You walk into the lab to pick up a few papers and see Bruce and Tony.

‘Aren’t you guys leaving?’ ‘Yeah, in a second, we just needed to put the stone back. Can’t leave it open for an entire weekend’ Tony says. ‘Hm, fair enough’ you go to your table and pick up another set of papers Strange sent over. He certainly has you doing a lot of reading!

‘Do you want one of us to stay back?’ Tony asks. ‘Whatever for?’ ‘You KNOW what for, you can’t be alone with him in the Tower’. ‘I’m NOT alone, the tower is full of security and staff... although why the Avengers Tower needs security, I don't know'. ‘You know what I mean’. ‘No, I really don’t’ you’re getting a little annoyed now. ‘Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t have preferred ONE person being on your side vouching for you, being there for you, when you thought the worst of yourself a few years ago?’

Silence.

‘Well, why does it have to be you?’ Tony asks.

‘Because... it’s no one else’ you sigh. ‘Because I’ve been here for a whole year, he has been here longer, and in all that time, it’s been no one else. And I know what that’s like. YOU know what it’s like, how can you let anyone feel that way when you personally know how terrible it feels?’

‘He just wants you to be safe’ Bruce says. ‘I know’ you place your hand on Tony’s shoulder. ‘Tony, the burden of the world doesn’t fall upon you. You don’t have to be responsible for every single thing’.

He looks at you, his face inscrutable. He finally shrugs and pulls you into a hug. ‘You be safe, okay? If there’s literally anything, you call me. I don’t care if it’s 4 AM and you’re dead, you call me’.

You laugh. ‘I’ll keep that in mind, assuming the after world has good phone reception’.

‘If you’re carrying the phones I issued, they'll work anywhere’ he lets go and winks at you. ‘Now get outta here, go watch your time travel show’.

You walk into your room, expecting Loki to already be waiting there with the remote in hand, but he isn’t. You wonder if he’s playing a prank on you and call out his name. Setting the papers down, you look behind the curtains, open up your closet, and check the washroom. Nothing.

Where is he?

Figuring he’ll appear when he wants to, you start on the pages Strange sent you.

About an hour later, the door to your room opens. You look up see it’s Loki.

‘Hey, where have you been!?’ ‘Where have I been!? Where have you been, I’ve been waiting for an hour’ he says. ‘Aren’t we watching it here?’ ‘No, I told you, since we’re alone, I thought we’d watch it in Stark’s theatre’.

Oh right. Stark also has a theatre in the residential wing for movie nights. He mostly screens horror films, much to your annoyance, so you rarely ever go there. But you never considered watching your favourite TV shows on there.

‘That’s an amazing idea, why did I never think of that!?’ you push your notes and papers aside and get up. ‘I also got the staff to get us some traditional movie snacks’ he informs you.

You squeal and clutch his wrist, and pull him out the room as you do so before letting go quickly. You don’t know it, but you just sent tingles up and down his body, and he is now smiling the biggest smile walking behind you.

You sit at the back of the theatre, the seats next to yours and his full of snacks. Popcorn, cookies, nachos, chips, even hot dogs. You wonder how the conversation went between Loki and the staff member he asked to fetch all of this on a Saturday for just two people.

The marathon begins.

Tuesday morning, the rest of the Avengers come in to work. You’re already awake, and decide to greet them all at the reception.

Rhodey trudges in first with his rucksack, stinking to high heaven. You gasp and try to push him away as he tries to hug you. ‘You took Stark’s jet, it has a freaking shower, Rhodes!’ ‘I thought it would be more fun to hug you like this, what’s wrong, don’t you like it?’ he asks innocently. ‘Shut up, go take a shower, oh my god my eyes are burning’.

He laughs and drags his rucksack along.

Tony and company come next, carrying their bags. Clint is on the phone, most probably with his wife. You greet them, and Tony asks how your weekend was.

‘Excellent, I may have put on a little weight with all the snacks I ate, so I have to work extra hard this week’ you joke. Natasha hugs you, and lovingly pokes your stomach. ‘You’re back on training right after breakfast'. ‘Yes ma’am’ you give her a small salute.

The rest of the company moves along and Bruce stays back. ‘Are you good? Tony was worried’.

‘Yeah, I had a great time. We literally just watched the show and ate’. ‘Okay…’ Bruce sighs from relief. ‘Good to hear. I’ll see you in the lab’.

Thor comes in next. You greet him too, and he wordlessly walks up to you and envelopes you in a giant hug.

‘What’s happening’ you ask. ‘Heimdall saw you’. ‘That’s the watcher dude?’ He laughs, still holding you. ‘Yes, the watcher dude. The watcher dude says Loki hasn’t been this happy in ages, and I think you’re doing a good job’.

You weren’t trying to do anything, but you're glad to learn Loki is in fact enjoying your company. ‘It’s no trouble. He’s fun to spend time with, we enjoy a lot of the same things’. ‘Like what!?’

You wish you hadn’t said that, because what you’ve spent the weekend talking to Loki about is the Infinity Stones. Not the sentience, because you knew that would be a bit much, but certainly about its powers, the previous owners, the seventh that was destroyed by Adam Warlock, its place in the cosmos, and much, much more.

You can’t tell Thor this, of course, because it would be interpreted differently.

‘Just, you know. Time travel. And other planets. He told me about Asgard’. This wasn’t a lie. ‘That’s nice’ he smiles warmly at you. ‘Well, I have some work in Asgard, I only came to drop Jane off and thank you. Goodbye’. ‘Bye’ you say. You hear a thud, the Tower shakes, and Thor disappears.

Finally, Wanda and Vision walk in and greet you. You aren’t that close with them, but you're always nice to each other.

You go for breakfast, and things go on as usual.

There’s a week left for the extraction mission, and Tony informs you that he expects it to take about a week, five days if he were coming, but he isn’t, causing Natasha to roll her eyes.

A group of arms dealers are expected to be in New York next week. Your mission is to infiltrate the warehouse in Queens, where they are working. Tony has found out they will be getting a new shipment of weapons in a week, and bit by bit, your team is to break down their networks in Hong Kong and Dubai.

You’ve been on field assignments before, but never this long, nor this big. Nervousness isn’t even a word in your dictionary, you’ve been preparing for this so long, you feel like you could kill it in a single day. Tony senses your fire and has been “subtly” trying to direct that energy into training.

‘I know what you’re doing, I’ll be fine’ you protest. ‘I just don’t want you bouncing off the walls during the mission. I know how excited you get’.

Even Bruce wants you out of the lab after a point because you won’t stop talking and walking around, being a total distraction. Bored, and having trained and training new S.H.I.E.L.D recruits, you decide to see what Loki is up to.

You walk in on him reading in the living room.

The living room is huge, furnished in white with subtle gold embellishments. Tony considered asking every Avenger giving their personal touches here and there, and decided it wouldn't work, because Thor wanted red, Natasha wanted black, and Vision thought minimalism was a good idea, while Rhodey disagreed and asked for a water feature. So Tony listened to no one and just did what he wanted.

‘What are you reading?’ you ask, walking in.

Loki shows you the cover. American Gods.

‘Why are you reading that?’ ‘I think it’s amusing how the writer has painted Odin’.

You smile, remembering that in the story, Odin is a fallen god.

‘I leave in a week’ you say. ‘Yes, I know’ Loki says, without looking up from his book.

You wait for any sort of acknowledgement that he’ll miss you, or at least to be safe. When you get nothing, you shrug and sit down across from him.

‘I’m bored’. ‘Uhuh’. ‘Do you wanna fight me?’ you ask, quite casually. ‘What!?’

You grin at him. ‘I’m bored, and also excited about the mission, and I don’t know what to do with all this energy’. Not having sparred in ages himself, Loki puts his book aside and stands up. ‘Where?’ ‘Training room’.

#loki #loki x you #loki x reader #loki fanfic #marvel fan fiction #avengers fandom #tom hiddleston #twhiddleston #tom hiddlston x you #marvel fandom

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libraryscarf · 5 years ago

Text

here is the piece i wrote for the @womenmadefullmetal zine, which i was profoundly honored to be included in! please check out their tumblr to see all the amazing art and writing that went into this project. i was asked to write about my best girl, winry, and i’m so excited to share this fic with you guys. <3

turning home

( ao3 / ff.net )

The Rockbell women have always breathed smoke, her grandmother tells her, not long after her parents die, but not soon either. We’re furnaces, you and me, she says. Anything that tries to go through us will need to melt.

Winry tries to swallow the lump of black metal in her throat. It sinks into her stomach, distending her insides, like the stretched belly of a snake after devouring a rabbit. That darkness will dissolve eventually, worn away by the passing years and the Resembool sunlight. But fragments of it will float in her system always, pulsing now and then with the heartbeat of loss. It will coat her lungs with iron. It will spike her blood with steel. It will surface in the blisters on her palms, toughening them like hide.

Winry learns at a young age that grief can serve her, both as her burden and as her armor.

: : :

“You shouldn’t be checking in so often. I’m fine. And even if I weren’t, Den knows who to fetch if I need help.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you calling, child?!”

“Well...I thought you might appreciate an update on how I’m doing.”

“Winry. You don’t think I have my own connections in Rush Valley? I’ve known how you were doing the moment you set foot in that wretched city.”

Winry smiles. The anxious bite in her grandmother’s voice hints that Pinako hasn’t been quite as collected as she likes to profess.

“Several people here have told me stories about you.”

“Of course they have. I’m a legend.”

“So you did attach automail fingers to Mrs. Wheeler’s foot instead of toes.”

“Who told you that?!”

“Mrs. Wheeler. And Mr. Wheeler. And Mr. Garfiel. And--”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. She thanked me later. Made it easier for her to pick things up.”

Pinako’s laughter crackles over the line, and Winry joins her. If they were together, sharing this evening as they have countless others in that yellow house, she would see the spidery lines around her grandmother’s mouth smooth away, and Pinako would resemble the woman of so many years ago, her eyes bright as beads of mercury.

: : :

She sits on the wide windowsill of her room, one leg swinging over the shoe-beaten, dusty street outside Atelier Garfiel. The workshop is humid, ripe with male armpits whose owners are always traipsing in.

Heat rises from the ground in shimmering waves, and she pulls in a long breath. The air tastes like the burnished insides of a forge; the sun prickles in a glittering sky. Yesterday one of her clients had cracked an egg onto his metal knee to the delight of six local children. The sun above reminds Winry of the yolk: a perfect golden disc surrounded by sizzling white.

She loves it here. It isn’t the same love she feels for the sweeping countryside where she was born, a slow, soft thing layered with complications of old sorrow.

The love she harbors for Rush Valley is quicksilver and octane, a rush of searing air, a keen and yellow energy that wakes in her muscles each morning and blasts wild through her dreams each night. It is a rough town that Winry loves, but it fits her roughened parts, and Rush Valley loves her back.

: : :

“I’m happy you’re settled in. Tell the others hello from me.”

“Mei already said hi when she heard I was calling. Zampano and Jerso, too. Oh, and Ling suggested bringing you here to serve as the official court mechanic. They’ve apparently never had one before, but he said you could name your price.”

Winry’s grin stretches across her face. That sounds so like something Ling would suggest that she can nearly hear it in his voice.

“And Lan Fan’s thoughts?”

“She admires your work, but doubts you’d want to relocate so far just to take care of her arm.”

Winry’s fingers skim the pocked surface of the worktable. She knows every divot, every chip and scar, as though they’re carved in her own skin.

“I’d like to visit Xing,” she admits.

“There’s a lot of murmuring about a railroad across the desert. Goodness knows how long that’ll take—but then you and Granny could both come.”

His voice has changed, even since they last saw each other. Winry presses a knuckle to her mouth, her eyes stinging.

“Will you be happy there?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

“...Winry?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

She chews her thumbnail, cursing her stupid throat for closing up.

“Don’t be stupid, Al. I’ve no idea what you mean.”

: : :

Wandering down the uneven rows, Winry’s eyes skim the names. She halts in front of two close-set stones, where others have left tokens. Her eyes fall on a wilting sprig of sweet violets and yellow honeysuckle.

She sinks cross-legged to the ground between the graves, her back and knees complaining after so many long nights of work. The violets’ brittle stems crumble under her fingers into fine gray dust.

Her father had adored sweet violets, Winry remembers suddenly. He had yelled in delight upon finding the first clumps of them in the spring, when winter still bared its teeth in the frigid midnights and ghosted the mornings with frost. He would gather handfuls, stuffing his nose into the velvet purple blossoms. Winry’s mother laughed often and openly, but never was it filled with more delight than when her husband doubled over, possessed by a fit of uncontrollable sneezing.

A warm drop slips down her cheek, and she swipes at it viciously. Another drop splashes onto the end of her nose. Then the sky opens, unleashing a violent spring tempest that sends Winry sprinting for cover. The overhang of the groundskeeper’s shed provides the closest thing to shelter and she crowds herself under it, blinking the lukewarm rain out of her eyes.

In her haste to escape the storm, she hardly notices the soft grit of the disintegrating violets in her hand. Following a vague impulse, she holds them up to her nose, inhaling their powdery, dying sweetness.

Then she sneezes.

: : :

“Hey, you actually picked up.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

Winry’s voice is sharp, camouflaging the way her entire body melts at hearing his voice. A voice that is safe, and healthy, and--as usual--a bit too loud.

“Jeez. Is this a bad time?”

A telling pause.

“Are you crying?”

“No!!”

Her head feels like someone has packed it with wet paper. Ed chuckles ruefully.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” Her “m” s and “n” s are migrating toward “b” and “d” territory.

“You sound awful.”

“Right, I’m hanging up.”

“Okay, okay! Sorry!”

Slowly, Winry puts her ear to the phone again. And then sneezes on it.

“Maybe...a tiny bit sick,” she admits.

“Stop pulling all-nighters.”

“I don’t have an all-nighter to blame for this. And don’t tell me what to do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ed says, half-laughing.

The line crackles as he sighs. “You had to take care of me so much. I feel kinda guilty.”

“You were an extremely bad-tempered patient.”

“Well your bedside manner isn’t exactly welcoming!”

Winry hears the veins popping in his neck and forehead. Ed communicates everything of himself through his voice. He could so easily be sitting across from her.

She closes her eyes and imagines he is.

“You know I didn’t really mind,” she says.

A sheepish grunt from Ed’s side. “Is that because you got to boss me around and tell me what to eat and when to sleep?”

“That... was a contributing factor.”

“I knew it!” he crows victoriously. “You’re sadistic. Sick with power.”

“So was that your backwards way of saying, ‘Winry, I’m so sorry I’m not there to nurse you back to health and make up for all the times I was a stubborn jerk’?”

The pause before his answer is just long enough to worry her.

“It would take a hell of a lot more to make up for that.”

Winry’s smile evaporates, her heart twisting.

“Ed...”

“What? I can’t be sincere for a second?”

“It’s not that . I…I just--”

His laugh interrupts her. “You don’t need anyone to take care of you, Winry. You never have.”

“It might be nice, though,” she mumbles. “Once in a while.”

“Consider the hint taken.”

Her chest expands with relief, a warm wave lifting her on its crest.

“Come home soon.”

Ed hesitates. She is hard to lie to, and if he’s smart, he won’t try.

“I’ll hurry.”

Winry believes him.

: : :

When her head aches and her hands are chapped, Winry walks up the hill to the big tree, where an aged swing creaks against its ropes. The valley flows away from her feet in green, rolling swells.

Her mind is busy, though her hands are not.

She thinks of her newest customer: a girl, no older than Ed when he had his surgery, her right hand missing from a farm mishap. Winry had reassured her that with automail, she could still play her fiddle.

She thinks of how Ed mentioned over breakfast how nice a house would look, there at the top of the hill where the foundation of a burned building still lies.

She thinks of Al’s recent visit, when he brought silk and tea and bright, human laughter across the desert.

She thinks of how her daughter reminds her in a thousand half-painful ways of Pinako, asleep now next to her own children.

She thinks of the countless small responsibilities waiting for her at home: an electric motor to tune up, a bruise to kiss and bandage, a shipment invoice to file, a long-overdue call to Paninya, a pie crust to bake.

Winry listens to the birds talking in the branches high above her. She smiles.

Then she turns down the hill, beginning the walk back home.

#scarfwrites #fma fanfiction #fma #women made fullmetal

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chasholidays · 6 years ago

Note

bellarke but clarke and murphy have a weird understanding slash ride or die friendship that they don’t admit to

according to my notes, this also coincidentally fulfills @pepperf’s prompt for Bellamy in makeup, so although tumblr will not let me tag you I hope you see this anyway

Before Clarke and Murphy became friends, Clarke didn’t really think Murphy had friends. He was the kid who sat in the back of every class and made sarcastic comments and never seemed to really interact with anyone else. If someone had told Clarke that he just ceased to exist when he exited her line of sight, she would have believed them. He certainly never seemed to do anything with a lasting impact.

And then, he shows up at the first GSA meeting of tenth grade.

As someone who joined thinking she was on the “straight” side of the alliance, Clarke does get that not everyone who joins the GSA is gay, but she has trouble imagining Murphy just showing up to be a supportive ally. Even if he is somewhere on the LGBT+ spectrum, Clarke is still kind of shocked he’s showing up. She didn’t think Murphy participated in groups of any kind.

Not that he really participates in GSA either. He introduces himself only as “Murphy” every time they go around the circle for names/orientations, and then he sits in the back and cracks quiet jokes when the opportunity arises. It’s like having another class with him, except that no one is forcing him to be there. This is what he chooses to do with his time.

“It’s weird, right?” she asks Finn. He doesn’t belong to the GSA, but she gives him the updates.

Finn shrugs. “I guess. Why do you care what Murphy does?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“You don’t have to understand everything, princess,” he teases, and Clarke just rolls her eyes. Obviously she doesn’t have to understand, but she still wants to.

Sign-ups for the group trip to Pride happen in May, and Murphy is behind her in line, so he’s there when Taylor asks, “You’re coming, Clarke?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Pride is for LGBT members, not allies.”

“I’m bi, remember?” It’s still new, saying it out loud, a word that tastes clunky in her mouth, but it feels right. After she and Finn break up, she’d like to date a girl. That’s an experience she wants to have.

“Oh, well, still,” says Taylor, like that’s somehow all he needs to say.

Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. “Still what?”

“Well, you’re with Finn. I feel like it doesn’t look good for straight-passing people to be in the group.”

Clarke’s jaw drops, and she’s glad it’s anger that floods her veins and not humiliation. Taylor’s never been her favorite person, but even from him, this is a lot.

Defenses crowd her mind, but so do the inevitable counterarguments. She’s had this debate with herself so many times, if she can really be bi if she’s never kissed a girl, how she can know, how she can consider herself a part of the community when she’s dating a guy. She got through all of those things for herself, but if Taylor doesn’t think she’s bi enough for Pride, she doesn’t have any better argument than “I think I am.”

Unexpectedly, Murphy pipes up. “Hey, dipshit, she’s bi, that means she can go to Pride. What’s the holdup?”

“And whybare you going, Murphy?” Taylor shoots back. “I still don’t know why you’re here in the first place.”

“You don’t get to vet people’s sexual orientations,” Clarke says. “We all heard Pride isn’t for allies, so anyone signing up is queer. Like me.”

“I’m asexual,” Murphy says. “Is that good enough for you? I’m genuinely curious,” he adds. “If you think bi girls with boyfriends don’t belong, I’m guessing you’re not real big on letters that don’t even make the main acronym.”

Taylor’s jaw works. “Obviously, if you think you should come, I can’t stop you, I just think you should consider that it’s not entirely appropriate for–”

“You know what? Fine. I’m not coming with you.” Clarke grabs a sharpie from the bucket on the desk, crossing her name out so hard it’s probably going to bleed through to the table. “But I’ll see you there. Because I belong there.”

She’s out of the classroom before she realizes Murphy followed her.

“If I stayed there I was just going to have to talk to Taylor,” he says, with a small shrug. “Didn’t seem worth it.”

Clarke smiles with half her mouth. “Yeah, I guess not. You want a ride to Pride?”

“If you’re driving, yeah.”

And just like that, they’re friends.

Junior year, motivated primarily by spite and a mutual dislike of Taylor, Clarke and Murphy start a Queer Student Union, open to everyone who identifies as queer. To Clarke’s surprise, Murphy not only cares about LGBT issues, he’s actually shockingly informed about them. He identifies as biromantic asexual, although he admits the biromantic part feels a lot more theoretical than the asexual part, mostly because he has yet to meet anyone he likes enough he wants to be romantic with them. But he’s theoretically open to it. He’s done a lot of reading on not only sexuality stuff, but feminism and general activism, mostly because he seems interested in it. Academically, he’s not the greatest, but he’s intellectually curious, likes learning when he’s engaged.

When Finn cheats on her a few months later, he eggs Finn’s car, which is one of those things that Clarke would never approve of and would have told him not to do if he asked, but since he didn’t and she had no idea until several days after it happened, she doesn’t have to even pretend to not be happy.

It feels like the kind of relationship that might not survive college, but they both end up in Boston. Clarke’s at Harvard because she’s that over-achieving legacy kid, and Murphy goes to UMass because Clarke pointed out he could actually get a BA in Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies while still avoiding the classes he hates, which is his ideal learning environment.

It turns out he’s a good litmus test for her pretentious Harvard friends, less because he’s a good judge of character and more because it’s useful to see how other people react to him. Clarke doesn’t really care if they like Murphy–Murphy doesn’t care about being liked much–but how and why they dislike him and how they deal with it tends to give her some good insight into whether or not they’re worth befriending. She and Lexa break up in part because Murphy and Lexa never figure out how to coexist, while Murphy and Niylah’s weird friendship is part of why Clarke starts hooking up with her.

“He’s like all the parts of you that you want to pretend you don’t have,” Niylah observes one night, and Clarke frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re supposed to be–The perfect princess. Rich, straight A’s, top of your class at Harvard. And then there’s Murphy, your excuse for not liking people. The scapegoat for all your worst instincts.”

“You have a very weird idea of what makes good pillow talk,” Clarke teases.

“I just think it’s interesting. Have you ever heard the term morality pet?”

“No, psych major.”

Niylah doesn’t bother responding to that. “It’s a concept in fiction. You’ve got a bad character you need to humanize, so they have a morality pet, the sympathetic character that they actually treat well, the one who’s there to make you think the villain isn’t all bad. Murphy’s your immorality pet. He’s the asshole you like because part of you is an asshole too.”

“I can’t believe this is what you think about right after sex.”

Niylah grins, rolls over for a kiss. “I just think it’s an interesting dynamic. The two of you simultaneously make each other better and worse people.”

“That sounds about right,” Clarke agrees, and tugs her closer, ending the talking for a while.

She and Niylah never get quite to being in a relationship, so when they graduate, they don’t break up so much as move apart. Niylah goes back to California, and Clarke stays in Boston in a cheap two-bedroom apartment with Murphy.

Sometimes, she thinks about what her ninth-grade self would think about her life: openly and comfortably bisexual, working in a museum instead of going to med school, living with John Murphy. Even her post-college self has trouble believing it’s real. But it’s good.

After six months of largely successful cohabitation when Murphy comes home late on a Saturday night with a giant bottle of flavored vodka and says, “We need to get drunk.”

Clarke never needs to be asked to drink shitty liquor twice. “Okay.”

Murphy roots around the fridge, frowning when all he finds is Coke and green powerade. “I thought we had lemonade.”

“Nope.”

“Well, this is going to taste shitty with the mixers we’ve got,” he says, frowning at the vodka, which is apparently raspberry flavored.

Clarke grabs the Coke. “If we drink the first one fast enough we won’t taste the second one.”

“Cheers to that,” says Murphy, and pours one generous slosh of booze into his world’s okayest sister mug and another into Clarke’s novelty Pikachu glass.

They’re adults.

After a glass and a half of raspberry-Coke vodka, Clarke asks, “Why are we getting drunk?”

“You need a reason?”

“I don’t, but it was your idea. What happened?”

Murphy makes a face, then drains his drink. “I think I’ve got a crush on a girl.”

It shouldn’t be unthinkable; romantic interest has always been a theoretical possibility for Murphy. He’s always said he could like someone, but Clarke sort of assumed he wouldn’t. It was just hard to imagine what Murphy with a crush would look like, and even harder to imagine Murphy’s type. What does he even like, in a person?

She wants to ask about a thousand questions, but she knows better. Murphy would just shut down. So instead she grabs the vodka, pours him more, and tops it off with what’s left of the Coke. “What girl?”

“She works at the pawn shop.”

John Murphy is probably the only person she knows who, in 2018, not only goes to a pawn shop, but goes to a pawn shop regularly enough to have developed feelings for someone who works there. It’s just so painfully Murphy.

“Is she just being polite to you because you’re a customer?”

He snorts. “She’s not polite to me. She’s an asshole. I keep trying to bring in stuff to sell and she tells me to get better shit.”

“That sounds about right, yeah.”

“So what do I do?”

“Can you just ask her if she wants to get a drink sometime?”

He pulls a face. “Pass.”

“Can you figure out a way to see her outside of the pawn shop without actually asking her?”

“I think she’s in a band.”

“So you got me drunk to agree to go to your crush’s concert with you? I’d do that anyway.”

“Isn’t that weird? Like–going to her concert?”

“How do you know she has a band?”

“She told me.”

“And the concert?”

“There’s a flyer by the register.”

“Did she ever mention it?”

“I asked her what it was and she said it was her band and they were decent.”

“So that seems like a pretty normal way to express interest in someone. You can just say you were curious or bored or whatever.”

“And you’re coming?”

“I’m coming.”

“Cool.” He groans and flops onto his back. “This already sucks.”

Clarke pats his shoulder. “You get used to it.”

Murphy’s crush’s name is Emori and she plays drums in a band called “Jose Chung’s ‘From Outer Space,’” which seems like a lot of name for one band, but Murphy tells her it’s an X-Files reference, so at least it makes some sense. There are four of them, two other women on bass and guitar, and the lead singer, a guy with messy black hair and sharp black eyeliner who looks too pretty to be a real person. He’s got a decent voice too, deep and kind of rough, an unvarnished kind of sound that Clarke feels down to her toes.

“Do you know any of the other ones?” she asks Murphy.

“Nope,” he says. “She was right, though, they’re not bad.”

“They aren’t.” She pulls her attention away from the lead singer to focus on Emori, taking her in. She’s cute, with a big face tattoo that must have hurt like hell to get, and long brown hair pulled away from her face by a red bandanna. She’s wearing a black tank top that leaves her shoulders bare, showing off more ink that clearly continues under the fabric.

She’s not who she would have pictured for Murphy, but she also doesn’t know who she would have pictured. She’s always thought Murphy’s type was more about personality than appearance.

Jose Chung’s “From Outer Space” are the first of three no-name local bands in the set, and Murphy, being the disaster that he is, wants to just leaveas soon they’re off the stage. But Clarke sees the lead singer making his way to the bar, so she makes a quick decision.

“I’m going to go make friends with the rest of the band,” she says. “If you want to run away, you can go, but you’re own your own.”

She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, but she hears some spluttered protests that let her know he is following her, and bites back on her smile. It’s definitely a little bit selfish, but only a little; Murphy did ask for her help. Sort of.

There’s just enough free space next to the singer for Clarke to wedge herself in, and the guy glances over, mildly curious, but doesn’t say anything. She checks around for Murphy, finds he’s hanging back, and leans in to murmur, “Sorry, I’m trying to force my friend to flirt with your drummer.”

The guy’s eyebrows go up. This close, he’s even prettier, tan skin dotted with freckles, a small scar placed perfectly to bring attention to his lips, the eyeliner the icing on the cake. “I’m not sure how this is helping your friend flirt with my drummer,” he replies, just as low.

“If I’m here, he can’t talk to me.”

“My drummer eats guys alive.”

“I think he’s into that. That seems to be his type.”

“Huh.”

Clarke flags down the bartender and orders a beer. “You guys are really good,” she offers.

“Thanks.”

Okay, so, he’s hot, but aloof, and a little too full of himself, if Clarke is honest. The band is really good, but they’re playing a small venue in Cambridge. They’re not big enough that he should be above talking to people, so it’s probably just a personality trait.

“What’s your friend’s name?” he asks, not looking at her.

“Murphy.”

“He probably doesn’t have a chance.”

Clarke shrugs. “I’ll be proud of him if he just gives it a try.”

“Low standards, huh?” says the guy.

“He doesn’t get out much.”

“So, how long do I have to stay here for this?”

Clarke blinks. “Sorry?”

“You’re hitting on me. How long do I have to stay?”

“I didn’t know you were in a big hurry to be gone. I assumed you were at the bar because you wanted a drink. But I can go hit on someone else. Is your bass player into women?”

That perks him up, because he’s apparently the kind of asshole who thinks girl-on-girl is hot. “Possibly, but she’s got a boyfriend right now. Sorry.”

Clarke cracks her neck as an excuse to look around. Murphy is talking to Emori and she’s smiling, which means Clarke’s work here is done and she can leave the surly asshole alone. It’s always a shame when a hot boy in eyeliner lets her down, but she’ll live. “Oh well. Murphy’s set, so you should have a good rest of the night.”

He looks a little surprised. “Oh, uh, yeah. You too.”

Clarke raises her glass in salute and slides away from him, moving down the bar to a less crowded spot. She doesn’t let herself look back to see if he’s watching her, but she does let herself hope.

It would serve him right.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Murphy doesn’t come up with a better way to flirt with Emori than going to her shows, which means that Clarke is also going to her shows, to be a supportive friend, and getting to know Emori and by extension the rest of the band.

Emori, at least, she likes. She’s quick and funny and takes no shit, which is perfect for Murphy, and despite what the surly singer said, she does seem kind of fond of him. It’s hard to get a great read on her, but she keeps coming to talk to Murphy, and Clarke doesn’t think she’s the type to talk to people unless she actually wants to. Their whole relationship seems to be based on talking shit, but that’s got to be Murphy’s type.

Raven and Echo–the bass and guitar players, respectively–are cool too, easy for Clarke to hang out with while Murphy’s busy with Emori. She likes them all, really. It’s not a hardship.

Except that there’s Bellamy, too.

She does want to like Bellamy, but she can’t get over thinking he’s just kind of an asshole. He’s never really as aloof as he was that first night again, seems to warm up once he’s realized that Emori doesn’t seem to be planning to kick Murphy’s ass, but he’s still kind of cold. And part of her can’t help feeling like she should get over it, that it’s unfair of her to hold a grudge for one night, but she just can’t figure out how to get along with Bellamy.

She does try, but from what she can tell, he doesn’t. She asks him about the band and he deflects, talking about how they’re not really that good, it’s just a hobby. She asks what his real job is and he makes a face, says it’s boring. It’s not as if every conversation is like that, but she always feels like he’s not that interested in the conversation, like he’s waiting for her to just stop talking to him.

“So stop talking to him,” Murphy says, with a shrug. “Who cares?”

“Do you like him?”

“I guess. It’s not like I’m making him a friendship bracelet or anything. Does it matter?”

“You’re my barometer, remember?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “You want to date Bellamy?”

“No!” she says, but it’s too late. Murphy’s running with it.

“I guess he’s probably kind of hot? Not my type, but makes sense for you. And you’re pissed because he’s not interested.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting like this is news.” It seems like a safer tactic than arguing. “I told you I tried to flirt with him the first day, it obviously didn’t work.”

“Yeah, but you’re still pissed,” he says. “So you’re still into him.”

“I want him to be into me.” If she can’t tell Murphy these things, what good is he? “I don’t get why he’s not.”

“Okay, but if you’re not into him, who cares? He doesn’t like you, you don’t like him, no harm, no foul, right? Way better than the alternative.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. He should like me. At least as a person.”

“I think he’d be good for you.”

That actually does surprise her; she’s not sure he’s ever offered an unsolicited opinion on whether or not she should date someone.

“You do?”

“Yeah, probably. He’s a pretty decent guy and we have fun hanging out. Doesn’t take my shit and gives as good as he gets.”

“But he’s not into me, so I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.”

“Because you wanted to talk about him. You started it.”

“I was complaining.”

“You complain about him a lot.” Murphy groans. “Look, like him, don’t like him, I don’t give a shit. But if you don’t like him, stop caring what he thinks, stop talking to him, and let it go.”

It’s exactly what she should be doing; she flops onto his stomach with a groan of her own. “I hate you she says.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, I owe you an apology.”

It’s a week after her conversation with Murphy and Clarke has admitted, at least privately, that she still wants to make out with Bellamy and still might kind of like Bellamy, despite all logic and reason.

And now he’s smiling at her, nervous and casual in a t-shirt and glasses at Raven’s game night, and she has no idea what’s happening.

“You do?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you’re talking about and we can go from there? Because I’m kind of lost.”

He clears his throat. “So, uh–I didn’t know Murphy’s name was John.”

“And you’re apologizing to me for that?”

“The first night we met you said your friend was flirting with Emori, and I knew she liked this customer of hers named John, so I thought you were distracting me so some asshole she didn’t like could slobber all over her. So I was annoyed.”

“And you only just realized Murphy was her customer crush?” she asks, stuck between amusement and disbelief. “It’s been months!”

“I know! I thought he just got lucky and she liked him, but then she said John was coming tonight and I said I hadn’t met him and the rest of the band made fun of me for like an hour.”

“It kind of sounds like you deserved it.”

He ducks his head, smiling sheepishly, and Clarke smiles too. “Anyway, I feel like–I never knew how to explain without telling you I thought Emori was into someone else. And I still kind of thought you were a dick for trying to distract me with your feminine wiles.”

“I was joking!”

He laughs. “Yeah, uh–anyway. Sorry?”

“You don’t really have to apologize for that,” she says. “It’s not like you were–you’re pretty polite mostly. I thought you had a bad night. And didn’t like me much.”

“Yeah. But I want us to do better, so–can we start over?”

It’s strange, because part of Clarke feels like they never actually started. Like this is actually going to be their first try.

Which makes it easy. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

It should fix all her problems, or at least all the problems she’s admitting she has, but less than two weeks later she slams a bag into the island and says, “I bought vanilla vodka and orange juice and I want it to taste like a creamsicle.”

“Won’t work but okay,” says Murphy. “What did Bellamy do?”

“Who says it’s about Bellamy?”

“Can we skip the bullshit and you just tell me?”

Clarke considers. “Drink first.”

They make it through the first round and then Clarke says, “He likes me now.”

“And you hate him?”

“No, I still want to make out with him.” She sighs. “You were right, I’m totally into him, and now we’re getting along, and everything sucks. He’s really cute.”

Murphy takes another drink of his vanilla screwdriver. “So ask him to make out. At least you’re not trying to tell him you’re into him but not into sex and you’ve never actually dated anyone before. Why are you complaining?”

“Have you figured out a way to mention you’re ace yet?” she asks.

“Nope. It doesn’t really come up in conversation. No one’s like, how much does everyone love sex? They just assume the answer is a lot and don’t bother asking.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Keep complaining about your thing, that helps.”

She flops onto her back. “He’s just so pretty.”

Murphy pats her leg. “Yeah, that sucks.”

Murphy’s problem seems easier to solve than hers, especially in early May. Clarke gives it a week and then, when they’re out drinking with the whole band, asks, “Oh, is anyone going to Pride? Do you guys need a ride?”

“You’re going to Pride?” Echo asks.

“She’s bi,” Bellamy says, even though Clarke’s never told him that. “Or pan?” he adds, glancing at her for approval.

“I usually go with bi, but as long as it covers no gender preference I’m good.”

“I’m biromantic asexual,” says Murphy. Clarke didn’t warn him, but he’s pretty quick with this stuff.

“We always go to Pride because that’s how we got to be friends. Some asshole in our high-school GSA told us neither of us belonged there because we weren’t queer enough.”

“Jesus Christ,” says Bellamy. “Well, I could use a ride.”

Clarke will admit to startling, just a little. She didn’t really think anyone in the band was queer, had just wanted to give Murphy an excuse to share his sexuality. It was always possible she’d get a taker, but it hasn’t seemed likely.

But Bellamy wants to join them. If he’s gay, that kind of sucks, at least for her. But he’s bi or trans–into women at all and queer, basically–he might be her dream guy.

“I know it’s shitty to ask why people want to go to Pride, but I still want to know,” Murphy says.

“Also bi,” says Bellamy, so, yeah. Clarke wants to marry him. “I’ve never actually been to Boston Pride, though. I don’t like going alone.”

“Then you should definitely come with us,” says Clarke, and he gives her one of his melting smiles.

“Thanks.”

“Can I come along as a supportive outsider who would happily make out with a girl if the opportunity presented itself?” Emori asks.

“Definitely,” says Murphy. “Just don’t talk about ally pride or whatever and we’re good. And kiss a girl if you can, I hear it’s cool.”

Echo’s interested to learn that he’s never kissed a girl, and she and Emori and Raven get drawn into that conversation, leaving Clarke and Bellamy off on their own.

“So, that first day we met,” she says.

Bellamy cocks his head. “What about it?”

“I asked if anyone else in the band liked girls and you kind of–” She shrugs. “I thought you were one of those guys who thinks girls kissing is hot and for your benefit. But you were excited I was queer.”

He laughs. “Shit, I didn’t know you noticed. But yeah, I always like meeting more bisexuals. I was rethinking you.”

“Where did you end up?”

“What do you mean?”

She smiles. “You rethought me, so–what did you end up thinking of me?”

He bites the corner of his mouth, glances over at his band mates. They’re not paying attention that Clarke can tell, but she knows Murphy still has part of his focus on the two of them. The rest of the band probably does too. That’s the kind of group dynamic they have going.

Bellamy must be thinking the same thing. “You want to get another round?” he asks.

“Maybe at another bar.”

He laughs again, this bright, pleased laugh, at odds with his rock-star makeup. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

Outside, he says, “I thought I should have picked you up when I had the chance. I was kicking myself for–I’m still kicking myself for not flirting back.”

Her own smile creeps up, starting small but never stopping growing. “You still could.”

“We could just get a drink at my place.”

“I’d love to.”

“How much do you think Taylor Macdonald would hate us going on a double date to Pride with our straight-passing partners?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy pauses in his application of glitter to Murphy. Apparently he’s as good as makeup as he is because he taught his sister how to do hers, which works out really well. Clarke sucks at makeup; it’s nice that they have complementary skill sets.

“Straight passing?” he asks, dubious.

“His words.”

“Dick.”

Murphy grins. “I figure if I’m pissing off Taylor Macdonald, I’m doing something right. I hope every time I’m happy, he feels like someone walked over his grave.”

Clarke offers her hand and he high-fives her; Emori smiles. “I’m starting to see why the two of you are such good friends. It didn’t quite add up before.”

“Spite and stubbornness,” says Clarke.

“Our main motivations in life.”

“Exactly,” says Emori. “It makes perfect sense.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bellamy teases, but Clarke just smiles.

“Whatever. We’ve got it all figured out.”

#idleafterthoughts

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siriuslymarauders · 6 years ago

Text

Risk it All, Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Are you happy now?

Word Count: 2434

Warnings: Curse words, mentions of sex

Previous Chapters: I would normally link these but apparently tumblr killed those, soo.... I’m just going to reblog my masterlist right after!

January 28th, 1977. Hogwarts. Great Hall

“Will you stop that already?” you gritted through your teeth as you stare at Sirius tapping his fork repeatedly against the glass plate.

He immediately stopped the tune, dropping his fork to clatter against the table, “Hm? Oh, sorry, I was thinking.”

“Well that’s a first” you muttered through a smirk, raising your brow in amusement

“Excuse me bittttch?” he mocked a painful expression across his face, holding his hand to his heart. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramafied reaction, picking a piece of bread crumb off your plate you threw it at his face.

“Yeah, you heard me.” sticking out your tongue.

He lightly laughed, eyes filled with gleam, staring at you. After a couple of seconds he cleared his throat, “You know, the school year is coming to an end. And as you know, I’m staying with Prongs this summer. So I, well, we were wondering if you would ever be so kind to join us?”

“Stay with you and James this summer?”

“Well, not the whole summer. Just a short bit.”

“I don't know Sirius, I’m not sure my parents would allow me”

“Screw the rents. Please”

You rolled your eyes at the comment, contemplating whether or not give into his pleas. Looking back the black eyed boy, a look or nervousness was spread across his face. It was odd not seeing him so cool and collected, he was rarely like this. The only time you’ve seen him so afraid was when he opened up to you about his family. He explained his troubled parents and how they viewed the world. He told you of the horrible things they have done and through it all he was only afraid of how you’d judge he afterward.

Never wanting to see him like that again, you reached your hand to his, gently grabbing it. “What about a maybe?”

And just like that, the nervousness was replaced by a bright smile. He looked down at your hands, and ran his thumb across your knuckles. “Look, Y/N I actually have been meaning to talk to you about some-”

He was cut off by the sound of a throat clearing behind you. Immediately Sirius dropped your hands, eyeing whoever interrupted his speech. Turning around you came face to face with no one other than Tod Wilson. You cheeks turned pink, “Oh, um, Hi Tod, what are you doing here?”

“Well, if you must ask. I am here to ask you out on a date.” Twirling his wand in front of you, a beautiful rose appeared in his hands. Holding the flower out towards you, you couldn't help but giggle in amusement. Slowly taking the rose, you twirled it around examining the brightly colored petals. And for the first time in forever, your mind was not filled with images of Sirius.

“I’ll see you at eight?” he asked.

Damn, he was smooth. Smiling, you nodded your head in approval. He grinned back and gave you a quick wink before turning around and walking away. You watched his form retrieve into the abyss of students running around. Shaking your head, you turn around expecting to see Sirius, but you were left disappointed as his seat was empty. Looking down at your clean plate, you got up and made your way back to the Common Room.

January 28th, 1977. Hogwarts. Gryffindor Common Room

Opening the door into the warm red-walled room, you walked over to the mop the black hair peeking out from behind the couch. Tilting your head you giggle as you watch Sirius trying to complete his homework.

“There you are, I was expecting to find you here but you know planning pranks and such. Definitely not doing your homework.” you laughed, taking a seat next to the boy.

“You know, I’m not stupid.”

Your smile immediately vanished, “Of course I know that, that’s not what I meant. It’s just typically Remus or I remind you to do your work, that's all.”

“I know what you meant.”

Rolling your eyes at his sass you leaned back into the couch expecting him to break down and let you know why he was clearly upset, “What's wrong Sirius?”

“Hm, oh nothing” he lied brushing you off with a flick of his hand, “don't you have a date to get ready for with Mr. Hotshot.”

“What does that mean?” your brows creased in confusion.

He took a deep breath in and threw his notebook down, “What do you think it means”

Shrugging your shoulders, you lean inward asking for an explanation.

“Tod Wilson is a ass Y/N. He just wants one thing, trust me.”

“You’re wrong, that's not true.” your voice cracked, trying to defend the blue eyed boy.

“He’s just using you! All he wants is sex, how are you so naive!”, he hopped out of the chair and began to pace back and forth. For a quick second you saw nothing but pure worry in his face, as if he actually cared.

“And so what if he does!” You exclaimed, “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

His pacing immediately stopped, his shoulders tensed and he glared in your direction, in a deep voice, “I thought you were better than that.”

Pure rage filled you mind, storming over to the tall boy, the silent air was filled with a painful slap across his face. You fingers stung and began to turn red from the sudden hit. Breathing in heavily and nostrils flared you shook your head, “Sirius Black, you are disgusting.” Turning around you began to make your way out of the common room.

“Why him? Huh? I don't even know what you see in him!” Sirius shouted in pain. Slowly facing him, you saw tears in his eyes forming and a red hand mark covering his cheek. Shaking your head you mutter in reply “He’s not you, that’s why”

January 28th, 1977. Hogwarts. Court Yard

You spent the rest of the day avoiding Black, but your mind couldn't help but repeat the scene that had just occurred. The nerve of him! Ugh, how did you even ever like that fucking wanker. He is a self center arsehole. Shaking the anger out of your head, you looked forward as you made your way towards your date, Tod.

“You ready?” he asked, nodding towards Hogsmeade. “Damn it’s freezing”

Smiling at him in agreement, you felt a wetness grasp your hand. Looking down, you couldn't help but feel disgusted as you stared at Tods clammy hand wrapping around your own. It felt so, unnatural and weird. Your arm had to bent at an odd angle, and his grip seemed so forced compared to your own. It was so unlike Sirius’s which felt normal and relaxed. Your thoughts were ended as you body jolted forward, trying to keep up with Tods fast pace.

The entire way to Hogsmeade, Tod went on and on about quidditch, talking about the various plays and explaining the rules. You consider yourself a fan of the sport, but talking about it for 30 minutes straight was starting to bore you. But you smiled on, nodding your head whenever he looked at you. As you sat down on the bench in front of Honeydukes, your stared off into the distance remembering all the times Sirius would show you the various candies, explaining what each did and tasted like. The first time you tried Bertie Botts Jelly beans was on this exact bench you were sitting on. You had gotten them expecting the sweet flavors of fruits but instead you tasted raw egg and grass. Sirius was laughing the entire time, giggling at your disgusted reaction.

“Hey, You want anything from Honeydukes?” Tods voice brought you back to reality. Turning to the blue eyed boy you shook your head no. “Oh, um, okay.”

Both staring off into the snow filled hills, the awkward silence was broken by the sounds of three boys laughing with snowballs in hand. “Hey it’s Y/N!” Suddenly they all came running your way, laughing as they threw the snowballs at various students. Shaking your head you giggled, turning to look at Tod you saw nothing but unamusement.

“Aiiiii” James yelled, jumping to sit down in between you and Tod, putting a arm around your shoulders, “What's up Y/N?”

“Hello James” rolling your eyes, you instinctively lean into his warmth. “Remus, Peter” you nod off to the two boys who are standing awkwardly in front of you. They both seemed uncomfortable, as if they knew something. You try to stop the words fleeing from your mouth, but your curiosity got the best of you, “Where is Sirius?”

Coughs are exchanged between the three Marauders, all staring at each other for approval. You stare at the boys, brows knit with confusions until finally Peter confessed. “Well, he wasn't feeling too well, and wanted us to spy on --”

“What he meant to say is that Sirius is too busy sulking at home for matters he could of changed.” James cuts in with a sense of pride written across his face. “So, what are you two doing?”

“We were just leaving actually” The unexpected voice of Tod broke through, as he stood up he reached for your hand and pulled you aside him. Walking away, you turn around to give one last to James, your eyes begging for an explanation on Sirius. Giving you a smile and a wink, he nodded in your direction. Words were not exchanged, but you knew something was up. Hand and hand, you and Tod walked away from Hogsmeade and the three boys and soon made your way back to Hogwarts in silence.

It was finally when you reached Black Lake that the silence was broken, “Look. Y/N. Do you want this?”

Looking at his face, he brought your grasped hands up and lightly shook them in the air letting go mid-shake, silently referring to you new relationship.

“Yes! It’s just, heh, um, I haven't really been feeling myself lately. Sirius and I got into a fight earlier and-”

“Enough about Sirius, Y/N. That's all I’ve been hearing! Look, if you don't want to continue this that's fine, I’d just like to know please. I really like you Y/N.” he rambled on, brushing the hair out of his face, “I really like you, and I don't want to continue this if you’re just going to sulk about Sirius all the time.”

“I’m not sulking about Sirius, okay? He’s just a friend”

He shook his head in amusement, laughing up in the air. “You sure?”

“Yes, it’s been made pretty clear now. We are just friends, nothing more. Not now, not ever.”

He stood there for a minute, as if struggling on what to do next. But then suddenly he leaned forward and grasped your hand in his. “Well then,” he smirked as his other hand reached up towards your face. This is what you’ve always wanted, right? You got him, you got the boy. But now, more then ever your were 100% sure you got the wrong one. Everything felt out of place, too forced. But this is Tod Wilson, the Ravenclaw quidditch captain. The jock, the popular, the sweet boy you’ve had a crush one for the first few years of school. And while you tried to convince yourself that everything was alright, echoes of Sirius’s voice began to fill your mind.

As his blue eyes closed and lips puckered you just stood there in shock as your mind was trying to find a way out. Then out of nowhere you felt a pair of lips reach your own, without thinking your hand rose up in the air and the sound of a slap echoed through the cold air. Guilt and regret immediately poured through your body.

“Oh merlin. Tod, I, I, I am so sorry. I don't know what I was thinking, I, oh my, please it won't happen again”

You stepped forward, hands reaching out to the now red faced Tod as he backed away. Holding a finger up in the air, he turned around muttering the words,“Just friends my ass”. Tears filled your vision as your collapsed onto the dewy grass. Sobs shaking your body as you pulled your knees closer to your chest. You stayed there for hours replaying the embarrassing moment in your mind over and over again. With all the had happened ; your fight with Sirius and your not so perfect date with Tod, you broke down. It was finally when the glare of the moon reflecting on the lake tore you from your own mind. Sniffling you wiped the mucus escaping your nose and sat upward. Looking at your watch you silently cursed as the clock read 1:30 am.

January 29th, 1977. Hogwarts. Gryffindor Common Room

As you ran into the common room, you expected everyone to be asleep. But to your surprise, a fire was lit and Sirius sat in the armchair with his knees brought up to his chest. Making eye contact with him you immediately looked away, wiping the tears off your face.

“You’re back early” He said sarcastically while standing up, he made his way towards you but stopping in his tracks as he noticed your tear filled face. “What did he do? Did he hurt you?” the dead monotone voice asked, immediately reaching for your face

Shaking your head , you back away and began to break down in tears, “I-I couldn't do it. He tried to kiss me and I fucking slapped him”

He slowly took a step forward, reaching a hand out to touch your arm. You flinched at the sudden contact, staring at your arm as if you have just been burnt. “Are you happy now?”

“Y/n? What are you--”

Letting out a sob, you shoved him away from you “Are you fucking happy now you bloody arsehole!”

Making your way up the staircase you were stopped as a pair of hands grasped around you, pulling you back into the room. You tried to fight against the restraint, but eventually gave up. Slowly, you turned around and stared directly into the dark eyes that fill your endless dreams. But these weren't the same eyes that you dreamt about, they were sad and glossy with unwanted tears.

“Y/N, please.” his voice cracked

“I couldn't do it, because, he wasn't you.” Laughing, you threw your hands up in the air, “Are you happy now? There, I said it. Now, please. Leave me alone”

As you tried to walk away once more, a hand latched onto yours, pulling you back. Turning your head to yell once more, a pair of soft lips collided with your own.

“Will you two keep it.. Oh shit.” The voice of James echoed through the room.

Note: Hello! Long time no see! Sorry for the long Hiatus, I had A LOT of things going on in my life. Anyway, I had the time today so I quickly wrote this piece. I was unable to get somebody to edit and review it, so it might not be my best. Again, I am sorry for the long wait and I hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @sly-vixen-up2nogood @devenrenee@lupintales@saynotodrugsyestotacos @jasmiw @just-some-nerd @stylespowus@cutie-bug@superwholockgeek18 @wolfgamzee @dude-whatawave @blackpinkdolan @klf1999 @aspookyslytherin @hahawannadiehaha @dettiwastaken @yllwtaxi @alexzpattinson

#Sirius Black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #Marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders imagine #James Potter #Remus Lupin #peter pettigrew

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