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pitchsidestories · 2 months ago

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all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!��, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

#lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso oneshot #woso community #engwnt #lionesses x reader #lionesses #barclays wsl

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raaorqtpbpdy · 2 years ago

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I think someone maybe already tried to make this bg character an oc but

What if this flight attendant is the Weston mom? Two red headed parents would basically guarantee red headed children, so genetically it tracks. Plus, she’s a flight attendant, hence why we never see her in the bg of Amity Park. I’ve seen fics/interpretations where Wes’ mom is dead or where she and his dad got divorced, but I honestly think it would be really funny if there’s no tragic reason for her never being around, she just works as a flight attendant which is why she’s rarely home.

Also explains why her reaction to a ghost flying through the plane and stealing a passenger’s drink is just mild annoyance, because any time she does come home she’s still an Amity Parker. She brings home cool souvenirs from the places she’s travelled and whenever she’s home she loves spending time with her family.

She probably would humor Wes’ crackpot theories because she doesn’t wanna lose even more mom points than she already does because of her job, but she’s just humoring him, she doesn’t actually believe it. She listens and asks him questions and is endlessly amused by the crazy eyes he gives her when he deep dives into his Phantom/Fenton theory and she has to try so hard not to laugh because he’s just such a cutie when he tries so hard. Also she doesn’t spend enough time around Amity Park to understand more than like, 30% of what he’s saying, but she can smile and nod with the best of them.

Her husband’s like “dear, don’t encourage this, he’s literally stalking the poor boy” and she’s all “boys will be boys, as long as he’s not actually hurting anyone, just let him have his fun.” Because again, she spends so much time away she has to be the best mom ever whenever she’s home.

Anyway, yeah. I propose the Weston mom is not dead or left them or whatever else, she’s just a flight attendant. Idk what her name should be tho. Wilma? North? Any suggestions?

Edit: by far my favorite name suggestion has been Rose, as in compass rose, which is what I’ll be using.

Edit: I found the post where someone else was “wesifying” this character.

#id in alt text #danny phantom #dp #wes weston #Weston family #fandom oc #rose weston

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minorfamilysupremacy · 2 years ago

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Rules: share something about an idea you have/something that's speaking to you/an au you'd like to see and are considering writing/etc. etc. Basically anything that is tempting you away from your current wips!

tagged by @supernovasimplicity for this one. i don’t write anymore, so this is a monument to all my sins (my 50000 drafts in my notes app) instead. consider this the list of things i would have written were i capable of the remotest bit of commitment. fully naming and shaming a whole bunch of past fandoms here too.

kinnporsche - SPH chapters whatever to whatever would have been the end: this counts because it is the biggest casualty in terms of scope. there are at least three more arcs i was planning, including the promised-but-never-delivered murderboner adventures, a revenge/separation arc, and the ending has been planned out for months. it is basically guaranteed never to see the light of day. www sad trombone dot com. - (redacted) vegaspete fantasy AU: this was a me & boots co-production. part of it exists and did get periodically picked at and the outline got revised a thousand times, but what was supposed to be conveyed as a fairytale with a deft touch, it had all the subtlety of the claw end of a hammer. this is the one i’ll drink about years from now and be bummed i never finished it. - i once promised dearly beloved @trueplainhearts i would write her the missing scene vegasmacau episode 2 cleanup after porsche’s bullshit at the koi pond. probably the one I’m most surprised no one has written (to my knowledge, which is minimal). - all the prompts i got for vp one-shots. these keep me up nights. they’re rotting in my askbox in the hopes i’ll get my shit together. have not forgotten them, just never moved the needle one iota. actually, that’s a lie. i have half a one-shot where macau runs his own horrible cooking youtube channel with a very game pete who will eat basically anything. probably the one closest to completion.

the flash - lord HELP me i was so on my bullshit about a show that continually betrayed me at every turn and stopped being good after two seasons despite running for nine. (i did quit after s3, but the rage will be lifelong.) anyway that shit inexplicably ruled my life because hearts and sparkles hearts and sparkles all the love in the world for my beautiful sad gay deaf mallgoth hartley rathaway, most beloved of his horrible stupid name. i dreadfully miss playing in that sandbox. i went old-school crackship and had my own decades-spanning world set up for two characters who never met in canon because i want nothing more than traumatized embittered brilliant characters hated by their own family and the people around them to ultimately create their own homes and happinesses. i wrote perhaps an ungodly amount of twitter DM harry wells/hartley rathaway fic but didn’t explore 95% of the world we created. i had millions of ideas i wanted to write for them — some domestic, some porny, some healing, some of those deep dives into disability and anger and grief -- and boy did i fail to write almost all of it. god, that show did not deserve the amount of time and energy and effort i poured into it but it was so creatively fulfilling and it’ll always be a place i come home to. - i would, of course, be remiss if i just acted like a saintly crackshipper while i stank up that fandom when in reality this was the OG murderboner adventures show for me and in the course of making this post i DID find the actual murderboner adventure fic (which i wrote in second person and do not remember doing at ALL) and not finishing that one for an audience of zero is a regret. harrison/hartley was SUCH an underrated ship in the fandom and no one wanted to make it as disgusting as i did despite the fact that it had SUCH ripe elements for a toxic, codependent, abusive, easily-murderous mess of a relationship. young traumatized alienated genius desperately seeks the withheld approval of an authority figure! COME ON PEOPLE GET IT TOGETHER. a boy who would easily kill for you if it meant you would cast your gaze his way for only a moment and who would be blind to how much of himself he’s lost until it’s too late — it was a certified me fic through and through. there was so much murder. so many boners. RIP :( - tbh i had a lot of fucked-up porn wips for this series. i was really into some disgusting fucking non-con and trying to find like-minded degens to share it with was a fool’s errand. hope no one ever steals my phone and finds them all.

all the other shit - i still get a little prickle of guilt over never finishing a detroit evolution wip about my favorite subject, traumatized and isolated boys wrestling with the concept of being loved and cared for after years of loneliness and fury. i was never a good fit for that fandom (true to form) and this just became one of those sore spots i didn’t have the energy to poke at any longer. i always wrote characters too similar to me and then they got uncomfortably personal and i ended up walking away. - lore olympus fans who hate minthe can a) skip this one and b) get the hell off my blog bc i am and always will be a certified minthe stan. love her. adore her. wanted desperately to write the codependent messy dysfunction of the hades/minthe relationship — the unequal power dynamics, the fear and anger of watching someone else get better while you’re not, the careless hurts to release your own pain. i really wanted to capture that loveless misery and just never could nail the vibe i wanted to. - prapaisky. i’m leaving this one as-is bc everyone i know thinks LITA is dogshit but i feel disproportionately strongly about them and wanted to dig into that post-canon recovery. end transmission. - a lot of my stuff never made it out of my brain bc i knew it wouldn’t be worth it to watch it sink like a stone, which was the case with evelyn/walter from one lane bridge. i don’t know anyone who was binging dour nz murder mysteries and it isn’t exactly a canon that begs for a rich ao3 presence, but giving me glimpses of these gentle characters doomed by the narrative and forced into making unspeakable choices put me in a fucking chokehold. i scarfed every tiny crumb i got of their story and outright sobbed at the ending. watching the lock fall had me in full-on claire danes mode. it was prime character study material and i rewrote their story 500 times in my head bc i knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that thing would get the slightest bit of traction if i slaved over actually writing it. - flex/rita: fuck hbo max fuck zaslav fuck the WORLD. i know doom patrol will end and i will NOT see flex/rita become canon because devan chandler long is on another show and also DC hates me personally. (they should have at least kissed!!!!!! god!!!!! you give a woman a screaming reality-tearing sex-ghost orgasm and yet i can’t even get a chaste smooch out of it!!!!!!!!! god i’m gonna die mad about it.) anyway this was a fun one to plot out in my head bc it was all about sketching out flex’s backstory and exploring hero worship in the contexts of celebrity vs literal superhero and the idea of meeting your idols in the most doom-patrol-y way, which is to say decades later when you’ve both been victims of horrific medical, scientific, and magical fuckery but still are in the prime of your life. very rita hayworth in terms of ‘men go to bed with gilda and wake up with me’ in the disconnect between a public-facing persona and the vulnerability of being your ugliest, most honest self. also idk there probably would have been literal rat-fucking or something, it’s doom patrol.

not tagging anyone bc i always know i’m gonna leave someone off so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ do it if you’re compelled, don’t if you’re not

#hope everyone did not enjoy this Exciting Deep Dive into my failure to launch

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best-reviews-usa · 20 days ago

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tips-from-john · 20 days ago

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TONIC GREENS REVIEWS (DON’T BUY?!) TONIC GREENS – Tonic Greens Herpes

#tonicgreensherpes #tonicgreens #tonicgreensreviews

In this video, we’ll cover:

What is Tonic Greens?

How does it work?

What are the key ingredients?

Are there side effects?

Where can you buy it?

Stay tuned for a detailed and honest review, brought to you by Beats Fusion!

🤔 What Exactly Is Tonic Greens?

🌿 Tonic Greens Ingredients

The effectiveness of Tonic Greens lies in its natural and well-selected ingredients. Here's what it contains:

Spirulina

Organic Bananas

Kudzu

Luteolin

Parsley

Coconut Juice

Holy Basil

These ingredients not only help manage herpes but also support overall wellness by reducing inflammation, improving mental clarity, and enhancing cardiovascular health.

✅ Does Tonic Greens Really Work?

❤️ Where To Buy Tonic Greens?

To ensure you're getting an authentic product, Tonic Greens is only available for purchase through the official manufacturer's website.

🤔 How to Use Tonic Greens?

Using Tonic Greens is simple. Just mix one full scoop into a glass of water or juice every morning before breakfast. For best results, consistency is key!

✅ Tonic Greens Reviews & Consumer Reports

⚠️ Does Tonic Greens Have Side Effects?

🤔 Does Tonic Greens Have a Warranty?

Yes, you can try Tonic Greens completely risk-free thanks to its 60-day 100% money-back guarantee. If you’re not satisfied, you can request a full refund within the first 60 days of your purchase.

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00:00 - Tonic Greens Review Intro

00:35 - What is Tonic Greens?

00:54 - Tonic Greens Formula

01:03 - Tonic Greens Benefits

01:35 - Tonic Greens Official Website

02:13 - Tonic Greens Herpes

02:21 - Tonic Greens Ingredients

03:23 - Does Tonic Greens Work?

03:59 - Tonic Greens Customer Reports

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04:52 - Does Tonic Greens Cure Herpes?

05:24 - Tonic Greens Review Conclusion

06:09 - Tonic Greens 100% Money-Back Guarantee

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all-the-things-2020 · 9 months ago

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Further Along the Way - Chapter Nineteen

Summary: The Way forward becomes clear.

Rating: PG

Mariana dove for the data pad before Cabur could pull it down on his head. “Nope, nope, nope,” she told her son as she snatched the device away from him. “That’s my toy.” Ever since he’d started walking, Cabur was into everything, and half the time Ad’ika aided and abetted him in his mischief instead of alerting her to it.

She pressed the button to answer the incoming comm. “Mariana Djarin,” she said brightly, adjusting the angle of the data pad so as not to show the pile of unfolded laundry on the couch.

“Good afternoon, Mariana!” It was Professor Ti’lik, her Galactic History instructor. “Is this a good time to talk?”

“Of course,” Mariana said. She made eye contact with Ad’ika and nodded at Cabur. Ad’ika nodded back and pulled his brother’s favorite stuffed bantha out from under the armchair. Cabur immediately lost interest in the data pad and soon both boys were engaged in a bout of Froggy vs. The Bantha. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

“I’m going to start working on a new project soon,” Ti’lik said, her horned head tilting out of camera view as she reached for something off to her side. She came back into view with a cup of kaf in her hand. “Um, just a moment,” she said, taking a long sip. “I’ve been up since before daybreak and I have three committee meetings after this. I need some oomph.”

“I completely understand,” Mariana chuckled. There were days she relied on numerous cups of kaf to get her through.

“I knew you would,” Ti’lik said. “Anyway … I’m starting a new project, and I’m going to need a research assistant to help me. I’d like to offer you the job.”

“Me?” Mariana was surprised. “But I haven’t finished my degree yet. I thought you usually used graduate students as RAs.”

Ti’lik nodded and took another gulp of kaf. “Normally, I would, but you only have a couple of semesters left, and I think you’d be perfect for this. I’m going to be diving deep into the history of warrior cults, including the Jedi, the Sith … and the Mandalorians.”

Mariana sat back. “And what exactly would this job entail?,” she asked. “I’m kind of limited as to what I can do from here.” She turned the data pad so that the camera would pick up the two boys playing on the floor.

“I know,” said Ti’lik. “Which is why you’d have to come here, to Chandrilla. You’d be working for the University, Mariana, and as an employee you’d be eligible for free tuition … and free child care.”

Mariana was stunned. This was too perfect. “I’ll … I’ll have to talk it over with my husband,” she managed to say after a moment.

“Of course,” Ti’lik said. “You don’t have to decide right now. Take your time, think it over, discuss it with your husband, and let me know in a couple of days.” She glanced to the side, grabbed her cup and downed the last of her kaf. “I’ve got to go. Talk to you soon!”

The comm link went dark and Mariana sat her data pad down. Almost immediately, Cabur abandoned the bantha and tottered toward the table. “Paa!,” he cried. Ad’ika rolled his eyes and corrected him. “Pad,” he said carefully, emphasizing the “d.” Mariana couldn’t help but laugh.

The pad dinged and she lunged for it before Cabur got his hands on it. It was a text message from Ti’lik. “FYI, by time we complete project, you should have degree in hand. Can almost guarantee you an adjunct position in my dept after that. Think abt it.”

Her hand was shaking as she put the pad down. An adjunct position? Oh, stars, is this really happening?

************************************

Din had just dismissed his final class of the day when he heard a whoop from the hallway. The door burst open and Pando Florenz dragged someone in. “Look who’s here,” he cried. It was Klaarmat X’intari, wearing a brand new dress uniform.

“Lieutenant X’intari,” Din said. “Good to see you again.”

X’intari snapped a salute. “It’s Captain X’intari, actually,” he said with a smile. “I just got promoted.”

Pando threw an arm around the Bendaski’s shoulders. “How about that, Mr. Djarin? Barely out of the Academy a year and he’s already gotten a promotion.”

“Very impressive,” Din agreed. He wasn’t all that surprised, though. He’d been in contact with X’intari’s commanding officer a few times over the past year and knew how well the young officer was doing at Rentrock. Getting him out of the xenophobic atmosphere of Clarvos City had allowed him to flourish.

X’intari shrugged, humble as ever. “I had a couple of good ideas, that’s all,” he said. “Major Gondosk asked me to join his staff, and he has some business with the Colonel, so I got to come along. Thought I’d stop by and say hello while they’re in their meeting.”

They chatted for a bit. Din showed him the latest holos of Cabur and Ad’ika, and Pando admitted he and Glenna were once again together (they’d broken up twice since Klaarmat had graduated). X’intari was just launching into a story about a disastrous date he’d been set up on when his comm pinged.

“That’s the Major,” he said. “Gotta go.” He shook hands with Pando, who pulled him into a hug, then shook hands with Din.

“If you have time, stop by my place before you leave town,” Din said. “I know Mariana would love to see you. No need to comm, just come over.”

“I’ll try,” Klaarmat said. “Depends on what the Major needs from me.” His comm pinged again. “Shit, I’d better go.” He flashed them a smile and hurried off.

“Me, too,” Pando said. “Supposed to study with Glenna for the maths exam tomorrow.” He winked.

Din finished cleaning up the classroom, locked up and headed home.

*****************

“Da!” Both boys cried out when Din walked through the door.

“You’re late,” Mariana teased.

“Sorry,” Din said, trying to wade through the two toddlers clinging to his legs. “You’ll never guess who stopped by after class.” He picked up Ad’ika and swung him onto his shoulder, then picked up Cabur, snugging him against his hip. “Klaarmat X’intari.”

“Klaarmat?” Mariana was thrilled. “How’s he doing?”

“He just made captain,” Din said proudly. “He’s working for a Major something or other, who had a meeting with Colonel Braxden, so he popped in to say hi. I hope you don’t mind, but I told him to stop by if he had the chance before he leaves town. I thought you’d like to see him.”

“I’d love to see him,” Mariana replied. She had a soft spot for the Bendaski, who had always struck her as a bit lost. Obviously, he wasn’t lost anymore, if he’d already been promoted. “I wonder if Ad’ika remembers him.”

“Klaarma,” Ad’ika said emphatically. “Vorpan. Like me.”

“Vo-pa,” Cabur repeated.

“Green,” Mariana said carefully. For some reason, both boys were more likely to latch onto Mando’a words than Basic ones, which pleased Din mightily.

“Geen,” Cabur said.

Ad’ika stubbornly stuck to “Vorpan.”

Mariana was about to broach the subject of Ti’lik’s call when the door chimed. Since Din was dripping with children, she stepped past him to answer the door. It was Klaarmat, with an older, human officer standing behind him.

“Hi, Mrs. Djarin!”

“Klaarmat!,” she cried, wrapping the boy in a hug. “Din was just telling me you’d stopped by. Look at you, Captain!”

Once she’d let go of him, he shrugged. “Yeah, I’m still getting used to that. Oh, this is Major Gondosk. We’re on our way to catch our shuttle back to Rentrock, but he said we had time to stop by to see you for a few minutes.”

“Come in,” she said. “Nice to meet you, Major.”

The older man nodded kindly as he stepped inside the apartment. “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Djarin,” he said. “And you, too, Mr. Djarin. Captain X’intari has told me quite a bit about both of you.”

Din put the boys down and shook Gondosk’s hand. Ad’ika leaped at Klaarmat, while Cabur warily peeped from behind his father’s knee.

“Hey, it’s my favorite green kid,” said Klaarmat, sweeping Ad’ika into his arms. “And look how big your brother is! I remember when he was a teeny, tiny baby.”

“Cabur muninar,” Ad’ika said. Klaarmat looked puzzled.

“He said Cabur is tall,” Din explained. “He’s quite proud of how fast his brother is growing.” Ad’ika nodded.

“We don’t have long,” Major Gondosk said, “but I did want to let you know that we’re working on reversing the Board’s decision on the admittance of non-human cadets. General Mikko is being reassigned and if we’re lucky the new Academy liaison will be more amenable to our point of view.” He clapped one hand on Klaarmat’s shoulder. “After all, if we don’t admit non-human cadets, we’re going to lose out on officers like X’intari here.”

Klaarmat ducked his head in embarrassment. “I’m just doing my job, sir,” he mumbled.

“And a damn fine job, too,” Gondosk said. “Speaking of, we’d better get going or we’ll miss our transport. Again, a pleasure to meet you both, and here’s hoping next year will be back to normal around here.” He shook their hands and waved at both boys.

Klaarmat handed Ad’ika to Mariana, then crushed them both in an embrace. “Good to see you again, Mrs. Djarin,” he said.

“I told you to call me Mariana,” she chided as he stepped back.

“Okay, Mariana,” he said. “But I’m still calling him Mr. Djarin.” He nodded toward Din, who simply shook his head.

“Come here, Captain,” he said, pulling Klaarmat into a hug. “Don’t be a stranger.”

After X’intari and Gondosk left, Din sat on the couch, pulling Cabur into his lap. “This is great news, cyar’ika,” he said. “If they can get the Board to reverse it’s policy …” He smiled at her, his eyes bright. Suddenly, she didn’t feel as excited about her own news.

“Din, we have to talk about something,” she said, sitting down next to him. Ad’ika looked at her expectantly and she nodded. He grabbed Cabur’s hand and led him off to play.

“What’s up?” Din asked, taking her hand. “Is anything wrong?”

“I … I had a comm from Professor Ti’lik today,” she began.

Din frowned. “I thought you were doing well in her class,” he said.

“I am,” she assured him. “This wasn’t about class. She — she offered me a job.”

“I don’t understand. A job? But you haven’t finished your degree yet. You need to finish your degree. That’s the plan.”

“I know. And it’s a job as her research assistant. Which means I’d be working for the University. And eligible for free tuition.”

Din’s face lit up. “So you’d still be able to finish your degree,” he said. “But you’re already so busy, with school and the kids. Do you really think it’s a good idea to take on something else?”

“Well, she did mention that the university provides free child care,” Mariana said carefully.

That was when it dawned on him. “So this job would be on Chandrilla,” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, which is why we need to talk about it.” She rubbed his hand. “If you don’t want to leave Thantos, I understand. Especially with things looking up for next year —“

He cut her off. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said. “We’re going.”

“Wait, what?”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “This has always been the plan, cyar’ika,” he said softly. “For you to finish your education, to have the career you were always meant to. You have to take this opportunity.”

“But you’re so happy here,” she said. “I don’t want you to have to give up your whole life again, just for me.”

Din shook his head. “You and the boys are my whole life,” he corrected her. “A job is a job. Mar’ika, there are plenty of soldiers and fighters in this galaxy. People like me are a dime a dozen. But minds like yours … brilliant, insightful minds … that’s what the galaxy needs more of.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?,” she said through tears.

“I ask myself the same question every day,” he replied, wiping the tears away with his thumb before kissing her quite thoroughly.

***********************************

“What’s this?,” Colonel Braxden asked as Din dropped an envelope on his desk.

“My letter of resignation,” Din replied.

The Colonel scrambled to his feet. “Your what?”

“My wife got a job offer on Chandrilla,” he explained. “We’ll be leaving at the end of the month.”

Braxden sighed. “We’ll miss you,” he said simply. “Give your wife my best.”

********************************

Everything was packed. Mariana picked up Cabur and settled him on her hip. She looked around the apartment. The furniture was staying, of course, but even so the rooms looked so empty without all their clutter. No stray toys under the couch, no abandoned jacket draped over a chair, no dirty cups in the sink, no data pads scattered on the side table.

“Goodbye, little apartment,” she whispered.

“Bye, parmen,” Cabur echoed.

Din and Ad’ika were already outside, waiting for the skimmer to arrive to take them to the spaceport. “I hope you remember this place, verd’ika,” she said. “It’s where you were born.” Things had not always been perfect on Thantos (those dark, dark days after the cadets were lost would be seared into her soul forever) but it had been where they became a true family, a clan of four.

She walked outside to stand next to her husband. “Any regrets?,” she asked. She knew he was disappointed to be missing Pando and Glenna’s graduation, and would miss hanging out with Garrick.

“No regrets,” Din said, slipping his arm around her waist. “This is the Way.”

******************************************

Mando’a words:

Vorpan = green

Muninar = tall

#the mandalorian #star wars #grogu #pedro pascal character fanfiction #baby yoda #din djarin #din djarin x original female character #din djarin fanfiction

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brckensocietyarch · 11 months ago

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lips pressed together as a laugh threatened to escape her lips, an ironic statement given what she was doing in the town with her friends at this moment in time. she figured part of his words were a warning given the killer on the loose but she knew them, hell, she was one of them but she couldn’t really expose that. “and what if i like a little trouble in my life?” she countered, lashes fluttering in his direction. eyes focused on his newly exposed skin once his jacket was removed, already feeling her heart race with excitement despite the male showing no sign of interest. “and how would things get out of control? something tells me you’re very good at keeping secrets and keeping people in check and i don’t plan on telling anyone. do you think they’d believe me? saying that one of the best cops in this town finger fucked me until i crumbled? i don’t think they would.” of course, there was no guarantee if a seed was planted, but she only really brought it up to remind him of their intense time together. “don’t threaten me with a good time, we both know if you got me in such a position you’d want to use the couch to keep my moans quiet, not my teasing,” stevie purred, knowing she wouldn’t be opposed to being fucked into the couch if it came to it, even if that wasn’t what he was actually implying given his tone. “ah, yes. women your own age like your wife who was on the trip with us, and yet you and i were about to rip each other's clothing off before the interruption. but yeah, women your age are far better,” her tone was dripping with sarcasm yet it still kept the sweet honey tone that was common with her flirtations. each time she spoke she tried to make it clear that the fire she felt wasn’t going out any time, and she was certain that despite his disdain and bitter tone, there were still embers burning for her too, even just barely. “yep. the one they take every year, y’know the one for my dad to avoid the whole ‘oh, he almost died’ looks. they did ask me to go with them this year but i wasn’t missing school,” she shrugged simply, sure school was likely going to be cancelled at some point given the murders but she had to act like a girl who had no clue if they’d continue or not, a girl obsessed with her studies, which is was to an extent. “i appreciate it,” the femme smiled, gaze never leaving him as he walked closer. there wasn’t a single waver in her innocent, flirtatious demeanour as he asked the question. “i’m a criminology and forensic science student who loves true crime, who also lives in woodsboro, it should be obvious how i know.” stevie stated simply, giving a gentle shrugged. “i also overheard my dad saying some stuff but sure, the internet is filled with misinformation. i’ll believe whatever you want me to,” at least she would to his face. she’d done enough deep-diving for her studies and then for her and her friend's revival of the ghostface killer to know something was definitely up with colton.

getting the sense she was adamant on staying or more appropriately lurking in his presence as there was no way he could make her flee or disappear unless he were to flirt which was a current option thinking that his flirting with her may make her feel uncomfortable she'd resort to fleeing. frustrated he let out a quietened huff when he rubbed the side of his neck with his hand to soothe nerves and eyed her with an unhappy and unpleasant gaze meant to come across as irritated. " that's going to get you in a lot of trouble especially if you don't know what's good for you. " responding to her stating that she wasn't the type to do what she was told thinking it was arrogant and foolish to have that mindset especially now when there was a killer on the loose. he removed his denim jacket and placed it down on the green felt covered pool table yet his eyes remained fixated on her. it was a mistake having touched her that night despite his mind usually going back to it feeling it was intrusive yet he knew it would only be troublesome if he were to further pursue or continue their affair. scrunching up his nose playfully and squinting his eyes briefly as he looked back at her in reaction to her teasing response. " don't flatter yourself. it's bad luck for me given what could happen if things were to get out of control between us. you're not the one with a family or a reputation for being the good cop. " the older male explained directly with his voice sounding tense and a little concerned most specifically due to how he couldn't trust himself being alone with her.

a sigh left his lips when eyeing the ball she'd push which rolled into the hole disrupting his game. directly staring at her with a cold stern expression as he was clearly unhappy. " maybe i should restrain you in cuffs and have your face down on my couch to keep you quiet." the male would point over to the side as he was being verbally threatening clearly feeling disdain and bitter for how she was right. " i am not interested. i prefer women my own age they come less bratty that way. " the older male leaned forward when making his statement trying to extinguish any thought she had hopes of the two rekindling a lustful flame. his demeanour would change to slight shock as he slightly believed her when she implied that she was alone and needed some safety. " my friend and your mom are not at home? that's odd. so they're on their vacation? " finding it strange they would be at this current time yet he didn't want to persist as to why they left their daughter alone and unprotected. the older male instinctively and naturally moved around the table towards her. " you can stay for the night. you can sleep down the hallway - - " he would then stop and pause when he blinked in shock and appeared to be confused by her aware of his past with the killer since he was a legacy character from the original. slowly he would walk over holding his stare with her eyes as he studied her before finally stopping directly in front of her. his hand would then slowly grab one of the pool balls behind him. " how do you know about that? " he tilted his head off to the side. " you know people can say anything on the internet these days. especially if there's a rumor about me being friends with ' stu ' . i barely knew the guy. sure he was a little zany but i never thought he'd be killer material. "

#sxlcst #— stevie roberts. / int. —#— stevie roberts. / colton. —

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petite-ely · 4 years ago

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Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I. It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends. “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

Taglist:

@kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!

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doppel-drop-distance · 3 years ago

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Doppel Spotlight: Giovanna

Surprise~!

I know, I know, about time, right? The hypothetical Soul Gem has broken, and the Doppel Spotlights are back from the dead! Er…temporarily, anyway. I can’t say for certain how many more of these I’m up to doing just yet. It’s a bit too early for me to make any big estimates or guarantees. But! This Doppel analysis has sat here unfinished for quite some time now! And you all have shown such lovely support that I couldn’t help but be excited looking at all this old material again. So as a gift to you all, let’s finally analyze the Doppel of our main protagonist, Iroha Tamaki!

This analysis will contain spoilers for all of Magia Record’s first arc! This does include anime-specific content, as I will be discussing certain scenes from Episodes 5 and 7! You have been warned!

Let’s dive in, shall we?

GIOVANNA

Doppel of Silence

Feature: Cuckoo

“The master of this emotion is aware of how pitiful her Doppel is and refuses to look at it. This Doppel wordlessly wraps around and strangles anything it doesn't want to hear as it continues its search for something to fill the hole in its heart. While it should be calling for someone, it is cowardly and afraid of acknowledging the reality it has concealed, and so it remains, silently covering its ears.”

It's been a while, so how about we start things off with a little refresher?

Both Giovanna and Campanella’s names are direct references to Night on the Galactic Railroad, a Japanese novel written by Kenji Miyazawa. In the story, a shy boy named Giovanni travels on a star-bound train with his close friend, Campanella. To keep things brief, I’ll leave most of the general plot details out. However, if you’d like a lengthier summary, I suggest reading the summary I provided in the previous Doppel Spotlight, which is linked here.

I should also mention I actually located an English-translated copy of Night on the Galactic Railroad! As a result, I can quote the story directly, although I cannot guarantee the accuracy of the translations or my own interpretations. Please keep that in mind as you read!

The opening scene of the novel establishes early on that Giovanni is a reserved, self-conscious boy. In class, he is certain he knows the answer to the teacher’s question. However, when called on, he doubts himself and stays silent, bringing upon the jeers of his classmates. Campanella, who also raised his hand for the question, willingly chooses not to answer, despite also knowing, in order to show some sympathy for the flustered Giovanni.

This opening scene is likely what is referenced in Giovanna’s nature as the Doppel of silence. Giovanni stays silent out of self-doubt, and as a result believes himself to be pathetic. Iroha also silences herself in her own way, being very passive, self-conscious, and reserved at the beginning of her story. And, true to that comparison, her Doppel’s reflections of insecurity make her feel pitiful, to the point where she refuses to look at it.

Giovanni’s character can also be representative of Iroha’s inner loneliness. With his mother sickly and his father out of the house, Giovanni is too occupied with taking jobs and caring for his family to have time to talk. More often, he is bullied by his peers. The only exception is with Campanella, who doesn’t bully him, and even sympathizes with him. As Giovanni and Campanella travel on the Galactic Railroad, Giovanni’s loneliness is at its clearest. Campanella begins talking to Kaoru, another passenger on the train, and Giovanni becomes morose with jealousy. See this quote here:

“Is there really nobody who will stick with me to the edges of the universe and beyond? Campanella just sits there jabbering away with that little girl, and it hurts me more than anybody knows.”

Iroha is also incredibly lonely, deep down. She lives on her own, with parents away on business trips. The anime implies she doesn’t have a lot of friends either, with her classmates talking behind her back instead. Worst of all, her sister, who she values more than anyone else, is completely absent, Iroha being the only one that remembers that she exists. Such relationships sound awfully lonely, don’t they? It’s only through her bond with Yachiyo and the rest of Mikazuki Villa that Iroha grows into her own, letting her optimism, warmth, and confidence shine through.

Giovanna’s connections to Giovanni tie her quite close to Campanella, Yachiyo’s Doppel. And, well, Yachiyo is certainly not the kind and sympathetic Campanella at first meet. Her first encounter with Iroha is cold, brutally honest, and fully intent on keeping Iroha out at any cost. We learn later on that this attitude is a wall Yachiyo puts up to protect people – that she believes the people that get close to her die, and that she still struggles with the guilt of her past. Yet, it is Iroha who shows sympathy to Yachiyo, breaking down that wall between them. For example, let’s take a look at Chapter Six. After a trip to the Memory Museum Uwasa, Yachiyo has been reminded of the death in her life and is reflexively closing herself off again to keep Iroha safe. Iroha once shriveled up in response to Yachiyo’s intimidating rejection, but now, as her friend, she isn’t having it. She says this:

“You saying there’s nothing you can do to help Tsuruno and the others… It makes me feel sad…Lonely…We fought together all this time…But more than that, I’m angry. I’m angry with you, Yachiyo...”

“I’m your friend, Yachiyo. And as your friend, I’m going to take out that Uwasa, all on my own! I’m going to be the one to protect you. I’ll smash this made-up idea you have of me sacrificing myself for you!”

Just as Giovanni interprets his journey with Campanella as a sign to stay diligent in life, Iroha’s friendship with Yachiyo allows her to steady her own resolve and fight adamantly. Their namesake connection is a sign of their bond, and their newfound devotion to fight together and protect each other.

To wrap up this Galactic Railroad talk, have you noticed that in many of the anime’s early episodes, Iroha is riding on a train? In fact, it is on a train that Iroha is whisked away to Zenobia’s Barrier in Kamihama, where she meets Yachiyo for the first time. Perhaps a stretch, but a fun little detail regardless.

Anyway, there’s far more to Giovanna than story connections! Giovanna’s silent nature reflects a lot of Iroha’s character struggles: mainly, her feelings of denial, and her inclination towards self-sacrifice.

“This Doppel wordlessly wraps around and strangles anything it doesn't want to hear as it continues its search for something to fill the hole in its heart. While it should be calling for someone, it is cowardly and afraid of acknowledging the reality it has concealed, and so it remains, silently covering its ears.”

When you think of someone “strangling anything it doesn’t want to hear”, concealing their own reality and being afraid of acknowledging it...well, that sounds a lot like someone who doesn’t want to accept the truth.

Iroha shows quite a bit of denial in her search for Ui. The odds are stacked against her for a lot of Arc 1. She finds little to no clues wherever she searches, and the Ui she encounters from the Uwasa of the Commoner’s Horse is only a fake. Iroha is certain that Touka and Nemu, Ui’s closest friends, will remember Ui. But, they do not, and only ridicule Iroha for her seemingly impossible set of memories. Throughout Chapter Ten she is belittled for sticking to her goals. She’s ensured on all fronts that Touka and Nemu aren’t believing her, and that there’s nothing she can do to change their minds. But, no matter how many times Iroha is told by the world that she’s believing in a lie, she never lets her belief go.

“I’m still going. No matter what you say. I’m bringing Ui back with me…She’s the whole reason I came back to Kamihama.”

This stubborn determination, when twisted by the corrupt perception of a Witch, is far more like paranoid desire: an aching, fearful need to find whatever is missing in her heart and get rid of whatever threatens it.

Following this, let’s talk about Giovanna’s feature: a cuckoo. Cuckoos are solitary birds, shy and secretive, and best known for their calls. Yet, Giovanna’s beak is tied up with cloth. She cannot call for anyone. Her journey to find Ui is painted as one of futility: Giovanna searches and searches for the one she’s longed for, but in the end, is too afraid to call out to her.

Here’s a fun detail, by the way:

In Episode 5, when Iroha summons her Doppel for the first time, Giovanna actually does not have bandages around her beak (which is why she’s able to let out that high-pitched shriek):

In future appearances, however, Giovanna does have the bandages around her beak.

Come to think of it, Giovanna looks rather... different in her first appearance, doesn’t she? Not only is her beak not bandaged, but her colors are a lot redder and more decayed, her cloak is worn and full of holes, and the crown around her head is gone. This may just be a stylistic choice for Iroha’s first Doppel, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sign for something else. Maybe that Giovanna is angry with the Commoner’s Horse Uwasa for projecting an illusion of Ui? Giovanna does fight a lot more aggressively here than in any other appearance, after all - she wraps the Uwasa up and drills into it with her beak. Meanwhile, in her second appearance, she only attacks an Uwasa with her bandages.

Giovanna’s unwillingness to call for others actually brings up an interesting facet of Iroha’s character: her sacrificial devotion. The reason that Iroha unleashes her Doppel in Episode 5 is because she neglects her own needs in favor of others. She believes that she must be strong on her own to find Ui, a thought reflected by her own Doppel’s words in Episode 7:

“Stronger…If you don’t become strong, you won’t be able to find anything! Cover your ears! Shut those eyes! Silence determines fate!”

When Iroha fails to find Ui within the Uwasa of the Commoner’s Horse, she is filled with despair. Ui was right before her eyes, proving the beliefs that even she may have begun to doubt. Yet, in that same instant she recognizes the Ui she sees is nothing but an illusion the Uwasa projected for her. So close, and yet so far. When Iroha begins to succumb to her despair, she even mentions that it might’ve been from the shock of not seeing Ui.

With all of these feelings, all of this disappointment and despair, who does Iroha use her only Grief Seed on? Yachiyo, of course. At this point in the story, Iroha wants to be friends with Yachiyo, but they are not seen as equals. She is not comfortable enough to open up to Yachiyo about her feelings, and neither is Yachiyo with her own. Yet, Iroha still sacrifices herself to keep Yachiyo from falling to despair. And by staying silent about her own woes, Iroha falls to her despair for the first time, summoning her Doppel.

Let’s keep this topic in mind and focus on something I haven’t addressed before: the Magia Archive artbook! There are some production notes in here that provide insights on the meaning and symbolism behind a Doppel. Unfortunately, I don’t know Japanese, but I did find a translation of Giovanna’s section, courtesy of @greenyvertekins. Here is a small piece from it that I would like to highlight:

“The motif is a bird flute and a saint with a rabbit-like appearance.”

The theme of a “saint” struck me as a little odd, at first. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to get that idea from her design. But, it did lead me to a unique little find, which is probably a stretch, but maybe kind of cool anyway?

(credit to Silvermoon424 on Reddit for the scan!)

It’s a bit harder to see in the official art, but that crown circling Giovanna’s head – to me, it sort of looks like a crown of thorns. A crown of thorns is a very striking sign of self-sacrifice.

And sure, this is the stretchiest stretch that ever stretched, but those drop-like patterns on Giovanna’s body are red, and kind of look like drops of blood, right? Beads of blood that have also been associated with the crown of thorns, r-right? Right…?

Phew…I’ve been going on for a while, haven’t I? Is this…is this longer than the first one? I don’t even know anymore…Let’s silently wrap this up with one more, fun little stretch on my part.

Both cuckoos and bunnies, which are elements of Giovanna’s design, are symbolically representative of spring. Spring is cherry blossom season in Japan, and the Eternal Sakura Uwasa lives near a cherry blossom tree only said to bloom when Touka, Nemu, Ui and Iroha are united again. At the end of the event Cherry Blossom Dreams, the Eternal Sakura even remarks that “spring can finally begin” because they are all together. So, if you squint really hard, maaaaybe the springtime connections here are representative of Iroha, Touka, Nemu, and Ui’s union under the cherry blossom tree. But probably not. I’m just having some fun.

And, that’s it! That’s all I’ve got for Giovanna! Wow! That sure was something!

I hope you all enjoyed my silly little analysis! I know some of these connections are a bit loose, but I like drawing whatever parallels I can with what understanding I have, haha. It was great to write one of these again and share it with you all!

If you have any of your own thoughts, additions, or corrections, do send them along! I would love to hear other interpretations!

#magia record #doppel spotlight #iroha tamaki #giovanna

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yurtletheturtlehenderson · 3 years ago

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COSMIC - S3:E2; Chapter Two, The Mall Rats - [Pt. 2]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Baffled with Mike's sudden behavior, El seeks out Y/n and Max for advice while Will struggles to get through to Mike and Lucas. Billy takes his co-worker on a field trip, and Steve and Dustin enlist a helpful ally in their top-secret mission.

||𝟑𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

"And then he said he— he missed me. And then he just hung up."

Max, who had been pacing for as long as El had been telling the story from her bed, pauses briefly.

"He's a piece of shit." She says, resuming her angry pacing.

"What?"

"Mike doesn't have jackshit to do today, and his Nana obviously isn't sick," she stops again, a strained grin growing on her face. "And I guarantee him and Lucas are playing Atari right now,"

A sigh comes from Y/n, who sits up against Max's headboard, one leg dangling off the bed and the other propped up next to El. A similar expression to Max works its way onto her features as she looks between the two girls.

"She's right," she shakes her head, cupping her glass of f/d in her left hand even tighter. "I was with Will earlier and he told me he and Lucas were meeting at Mike's house,"

Growing visibly confused, a wounded expression comes over El's face as she looks between them.

"But... friends don't lie."

"Yeah, well boyfriends lie." Max fires back. "All. The. Time."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"She knows I'm lying. She knows I'm lying!"

Mike paces his basement floor, his heart hammering in his chest just at the thought of how deep he was into trouble. Lucas sits on the recliner, just feet away from Will who was setting up the campaign Y/n had helped him to plan.

"I don't even understand," Lucas says. "Why lie?"

Will looks up from the D&D board he was setting up.

"Hopper," Mike answers. "He threatened me,"

"Did he say he'd kill you?"

Mike stops, looking at Lucas baffled. "What? No!"

"So what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that if I don't do what he says, he's gonna stop me from seeing El. Like, permanently,"

"Did you try telling her the truth?" Will asks. "You, know tell her what Hopper wants?"

Mike shakes his head, seeming eager to dismiss the thought. "No, she—" He sighs, running a hand over his face. "She wouldn't understand. She wouldn't take it the right way,"

Will makes a face. "I think you're underestimating her,"

"It wouldn't matter anyway," Mike says, clearing beginning to get worked up again. "You don't understand," he looks again between his two friends with a frantic look in his eye. "Neither of you understand. Hopper's crazy. He's lost his mind. I had no choice. I really had no choice,"

"You could have told her the truth," Will tries again. "That was an option,"

"So was consulting me first," Lucas chimed in, causing Will to roll his eyes and return to his game. "Because, the way you handled this..." he shrugs. "You're in deep shit,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"You're gonna stop calling him," Max says, growing stern. "You're going to ignore his calls. As far as you're concerned, he doesn't exist."

"Doesn't exist?" El gaped.

"Or you could call him out," Y/n adds. "Confront him. Work it out?"

"Bullshit! He treated her like garbage," Max says, turning back to El. "Now you're gonna treat him like garbage. Give him a taste of his own medicine."

El nods stoically as the works soak in.

"Give him the medicine,"

Y/n smiled to herself down into her drink at that before taking another sip.

"Mm-hmm," Max nods, proudly. "And if he doesn't fix this? If he doesn't explain himself? Dump his ass."

Both El and Y/n's eyes go wide.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Arhhgg!!!"

Mike slaps his hands against his forehead after collapsing into the couch with an aggravated groan.

Lucas winced beside him.

"I'm not gonna lie. It's gonna be bad,"

"ARGHH!"

Lucas draws in a deep, thoughtful breath. "But, you can fix this." He jumps to his feet. "It's just one little mistake. I've made hundreds. Thousands!"

Will looks up from the D&D board again with a frown.

"Are you guys really this bad at relationships?"

Lucas looks over at him and scoffs. "I wouldn't call Me Winning Max Back Five Times being bad at relationships," he boasts, turning back to Mike.

It's Will's turn to scoff. And he does so while placing another character on the gameboard as he mutters to himself. "I would,"

"That's right," Lucas continues, not having heard Will's little remark. "Max has dumped me five times. But what I have done? Huh? Have I despaired? No. I've marched back into battle and I've won her back every freaking time."

"I don't think that's a good thing, Lucas," Will tries again, but is again, ignored.

"How?" Mike asks.

A grin stretches across Lucas's lips. "I'll show you." Lucas makes a break for the stairs, gesturing for Mike. "Come on,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Come on," Max says, pulling El and Y/n up to their feet.

"Where are we going?" El asks.

"To have some fun," she answers, pulling them both to the door. "There's more to life than stupid boys, you know."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Mike jumps from the couch and follows Lucas closely on his heels, leaving Will without warning and no time to follow.

"Wait, guys!" He calls, peering over the table and up the stairs where they have already disappeared. "I'm still here!"

The only answer he receives is the muffled sound of the garage door opening and closing upstairs.

"Guys?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Another plastic spoon dives into the sea of Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream, scooping up a taste for Erica Sinclair. Robin reluctantly hands the spoon over to the young girl who waits eagerly with her posse of friends. She gives the taste a moment of thought before licking her lips and discarding the spoon.

"Hmm, can I try the Peppermint Stick?"

"Haven't you already tried the Peppermint Stick?" Robin asks tiredly.

"Yes, and I'd like to try it again,"

Fighting a losing battle with a sigh, Robin turns to the closed window behind her and gives an exasperated cry.

"Steve?"

On the other side of the window, Dustin is seated at the break table with an open copy of Russian to English translation while Steve paces the floor and eating a banana.

"Поездка в Китай звучит хорошо, если действовать осторожно... Неделя длинная."

"So what do you think?" Dustin asks, pausing the tape he had gotten of the broadcast the previous night.

Steve nodded, shoving another piece of banana in his mouth. "It sounded familiar."

"What?"

"The music," he answers through stuffed cheeks. "That music right there at the end,"

"Why are you listening to the music, Steve?" The boy asks, growing aggravated. "Listen to the Russian! We're translating Russian!"

"I'm TRYing to listen to the Russian—"

-"Alright!—" Robin comes lumbering through the door she had just thrown open.

-"but there's music—"

"—babysitting time is over." She orders, her sudden appearance sending Steve stumbling back in shock. "You need to get out there. Hey, my board!"

Robin gestures angrily to the YOU WIN | YOU SUCK whiteboard that had now been wiped clean and replaced with the Russian to English Alphabet from the book.

"That was important data, shitbirds,"

"I guarantee you what we're doing is way more important than your data," Dustin says.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he says, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, and how do you know these Russians are up to no good, anyways?"

Dustin gapes up at Steve, looking dangerously close to livid. His voice lowers in a not-so-quiet whisper that only entertains Robin more.

"How does she know about the Russians?"

"I don't know!" Steve whines, once again through a mouthful of banana.

"Did you tell her about the Russians?"

"It wasn't me," he says, through puckered lips.

"Hello, I can hear you," Robin says, pulling their shared gaze over to her. "Actually, I can hear everything. You are both extremely loud. You think you have evil Russians plotting against our country on tape, and you're trying to translate but you haven't figured out a single word because you didn't realize the Russians use an entirely different alphabet than we do."

She looks between the two gaping boys and quirked a brow.

"Sound about right?"

Robin knows to take their silence for a yes and grabs for the tape. But Steve is just a bit quicker and swipes it out of her reach.

"Woah, what are you doing?"

"I wanna hear it,"

"-Why?"

"Cause maybe I can help," Robin shrugs. "I'm fluent in four languages, you know,"

"Russian?" Dustin asks hopefully.

"Ou-yay are-ay umb-day,"

"Whoa-ho-ho-ho!"

"Holy shit!"

"That was Pig Latin, dingus,"

Steve whacks Dustin on the arm, "Idiot!" He hisses.

Robin takes a seat across from the Dingus Duo, lounging back.

"But I can speak Spanish, and French and Italian and I've been in band for twelve years. My ears are little geniuses, trust me,"

Steve gives a nervous laugh, the beginnings of 'I don't know...' dying on his tongue. The shrill cry of the customer bell ringing loudly from out front and Robin jumps in.

"Come on, it's your turn to sling ice cream, my turn to translate. I don't even want credit," She flops over the table, reaching for the tape in Steve's hand. "I'm just bored."

Steve has only a moment to think on it before the sound of the bell returns. Erica wanted more samples. Steve didn't want to go out and work, but he couldn't deny Robin's credentials. And so with a begrudging look, Steve hangs up the tape for a scooper.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The bus doors swing open with a squeak and out spills a small group of mall-goers. In that bunch, is Max, Y/n, and El.

El's jaw goes slack when she takes in the sight of Starcourt Mall.

"So, what do you think?"

It was wonderful. And wonderfully terrifying. It was exciting and new but it was also extremely intimidating. El hadn't seen a building this huge since the lab—apart from Chicago—and as she stood here now under the gaping mouth of the archway she couldn't help but feel like it was ready to swallow her whole, never to be seen again.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Max asks.

"Too many people," El answers sadly. "Not safe,"

Max chuckled. "Seriously?"

"You have superpowers," she whispered excitedly, giving her a nudge. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I think you just answered your own question," Y/n laughed.

But truthfully, every possibility of disaster popcorning in her brain was lulled to sleep by the idea of sharing a day showing El a well-deserved day out.

And seeing the yearning growing in El's eyes as she gazed upon Starcourt's walls—a look she hadn't seen on the girl since the snowball—was all the persuasion she needed. It was time to make new memories.

The three of them.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Starcourt Mall was brimming with activity that day, most like it had any other since its grand opening. The entrance swallowed whole gaggles of citizens at a time, the outer rims of its halls pumping life all throughout, but none more so than the heart. It was here the neon azure sign bearing its name shone brightly even in the waterfall of sunlight pouring in from the roof of skylights. The yellow and blue hands of the clock telling everyone the warm morning had leaked into a toasty afternoon.

There is joy and plenty of unbridled fun being had by all who attend, and yet they all seem to pale in comparison to the new trio bounding in.

A grinning Max and Y/n have hold of either of El's hands, only releasing when the three of them have reached the very center of the mall. Joy fills their lungs as they watch El, silent and slackjawed as her wide eyes drink up everything around her.

"So," Y/n gave her friend a light nudge, unable to wipe the painful smile off her sore cheeks. "what do you want to do first?"

Max gave another chuckle. "You've never been shopping before, have you?"

El's still shocked face comes to look between her friends, and she shakes her head.

Max and Y/n share an elated look and turn back to El, knowing they were thinking the same thing.

"Well then I guess we're just gonna have to try everything," Max says, spreading their infectious smile to El.

Y/n's eyes widened with delight. "I think I know where to go first,"

Seizing the hands of her best friends, the three of them took off, disappearing into The Gap, unknowingly missing their respective significant others only just.

"I just... I don't understand what we're looking for," Mike sighs, two of his best friends in tow.

"Something pretty and shiny that says 'I'm sorry.'" Lucas said, eyes already scanning the mall for outlets that might cater to their needs.

"What, just something that literally says 'I'm sorry?'"

Will laughed and Lucas threw his hands to his face in agitation.

This wouldn't be easy.

·· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A Resource Of Links To Help Support Black Trans Lives - [link]

11 Indigenous Organizations To Support - [link]

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tenthgrove · 3 years ago

Text

SorLato Week- Day 1

(A/N: Unfortunately this may be my only entry for SorLato week, going for the first time NSFW prompt. I tried to write for the other days but never got around to it. I may try to get another prompt done later on in the week but no guarantees. In the meantime, enjoy this total smut)

NSFW 18+

The small French town, somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, does not have much of a night life. It’s population is old and, even at this early time of night, largely asleep.

A notable exception to this rule, is the two young men who roam the empty street of the shopping quarter hand in hand. It should be noted however, that neither of these men are aware that they are in a small French town somewhere in the vicinity of the Italian Border, because neither of them were awake for a majority of the bus journey they picked at random to get here. Well and truly, these young men are lost.

“Sorbet, where the hell are we?” one of them asks, looking up at his companion, whose breath becomes mist in the autumn air.

“To be perfectly honest Gelato I haven’t the faintest clue. Though I will say that the French sound a lot more French-like here than they did where we were this morning, so I gather we were travelling away from the border.”

“Figures,” Gelato responds. He wavers on his feet, though how likely it is he would have fallen over entirely were it not for his boyfriend’s grip is hard to tell. “Sorbet, I’m tired,” he complains.

“I can tell,” Sorbet notes, glancing at his watch. “I suppose it is time we found a place for the night. How about we find a hotel for a change? We certainly have the money for it.”

Gelato clicks his tongue.

“Who knew handing down a beat-down would pay so well?”

“I did, Gelato,” Sorbet smirks. “It was my job for over a year, remember?”

The pair spot the flickering lights of a small, unbranded hotel at the end of the street. They start towards it eagerly.

“Think they’ll want ID?” Gelato asks.

“Probably not. The unbranded ones don’t usually.”

“Fuck yes, an actual bed!” rejoices Gelato. Sorbet squeezes his hand in acknowledgment and smiles.

It is exactly 5 minutes later that the lovers find themselves alone in a rather dire looking reception, sans even the young receptionist, who has gone into the backroom to look for a room to give them.

“I beg your pardon,” she begins, returning to the pair. “But all we have left tonight are couples’ rooms. Would-”

“We don’t mind!” Gelato interrupts her a little too eagerly. She takes a good look at Sorbet, a good look at Gelato, and it seems to click for her. She puts a key on the desk.

“Alright then, 20 euros please.”

“Thanks. We won’t be staying for breakfast,” Sorbet informs her, sliding over the money. “And if anyone calls, we’re not here.”

“Noted, enjoy your stay,” the receptionist says. Gelato waves her goodbye and the couple depart for their rooms.

It is roughly another 10 minutes after that, that Sorbet finds himself sitting alone on the bed as Gelato tries his luck with the shower. This is followed, quite predictively, with the sound of screaming.

“There’s no hot water!” Gelato screeches. Sorbet chuckles lightly.

“I did warn you this was hardly a 5 star hotel, darling.”

“Sorbet I’m cold!” Gelato whines.

“Then come back to me darling. Let me warm you up.”

Gelato wastes no time in hurrying back out the bathroom, clad in nothing but his underwear, and throwing himself at his boyfriend.

“My poor darling,” Sorbet tuts, rubbing his arm soothingly. He presses a kiss to his Sorbet’s temple and laughs, teasingly.

“You’re so mean to me,” Gelato complains. Sorbet isn’t fooled. He sees the blond’s little smile.

“Oh, I’m downright evil, aren’t I?”

Gelato’s eyes suddenly go a bit wide. He perks up, settling his hands on Sorbet’s shoulders as he straddles his lap.

“Sorbet, you evil, malicious thing? When are you going to have sex with me?” he asks.

Sorbet coughs.

“Sex?”

“I’m just wondering, is all. This isn’t the first time you’ve held me like this, and to be perfectly honest it kind of makes me sad it never goes anywhere,” Gelato teases, touching his nose against Sorbet’s.

“I suppose the opportunity never presented itself, did it?” Sorbet comments. He’s trying to play it calmly, but Gelato can see how flustered he is. “D-does this turn you on?”

“Maybe. Is this an opportunity?”

Sorbet looks at the man in his arms. The beautiful, gorgeous creature he’s crossed a country with for the last month and a half, whose life he would lay his own down for in a heartbeat. He looks at the soft, blemished skin, the bare chest he’s touched so many times but never done more with, the messy, curled hair he strokes whenever his anxieties hit him. Sorbet comes to a decision.

“I don’t see why it can’t be.”

Gelato makes a little noise of excitement and dives in, pressing merciless kisses all over Sorbet’s lips. Sorbet does his best to keep up, but deep down he knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Not when his boyfriend is this eager to claim him.

“Fuck, you’re eager aren’t you?”

“How can I not be?” Gelato giggles. He pulls back with an air-headed smile. “So,” he begins. “What do we actually do?”

“We follow our instincts, I suppose,” Sorbet answers him, giving his hips a little squeeze.

“Yeah, okay. But you do actually know what to do, right?” Gelato checks.

“I know what I’ve heard, I’ll say that much.”

Gelato looks at him with shock.

“But- I’m not your first boyfriend right? There were others?”

“There were, but I never slept with any of them,” Sorbet admits. “I felt too… vulnerable, with them.”

“Oh,” Gelato enunciates. “So if you haven’t done if before, and I haven’t done it before… how do we figure this out?” he asks.

“Well, as I said before, I suppose we just go with what our instincts tell us,” Sorbet suggests, pecking him reassuringly on the nose. As Gelato watches, he unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, leaning in again to kiss him once more. His hand drifts to the inner part of Gelato’s thigh. “How about I start with touching you? Down here, I mean?”

“That would be fine by me,” Gelato answers breathlessly.

Sorbet slips a hand past the elastic of Gelato’s underwear and paws gently at what he finds. Taking hold, he begins to stroke it gently.

Gelato’s sex drive didn’t suddenly jump into existence when he met Sorbet. He’s touched himself before and liked it, but that doesn’t change the fact it feels so much sweeter when Sorbet does it for him. Already, he’s biting back the urge to moan.

“Does it feel good?” Sorbet checks.

“Mm. Can I- return the favour?”

“By all means.”

Gelato eagerly fumbles with Sorbet’s zipper and undoes his pants and underwear. Sorbet isn’t quite, hard yet, but he’s getting there. Regardless, Gelato thinks he can help him along. He takes hold of the thick shaft and strokes it roughly. He knows this isn’t exactly a competition, but he wants to win regardless.

“Fuck, just like that,” Sorbet praises him. “That’s just perfect.”

“My brain is telling me to put it in my mouth, should I do it?”

“If you want to, go ahead,” Sorbet permits. “Just watch your teeth and don’t push yourself, or you will retch.”

“I know what to do,” Gelato tuts, getting down on his elbows. “You wouldn’t believe some of the shit you overhear working in a bar.”

“Is that so?” Sorbet smirks. “Well, by all means enjoy yourself then.”

Gelato wastes no time. He sticks the tip into his mouth and starts to lick roughly, closing his lips around the first couple inches off the shaft as he uses his hands to keep the rest occupied. He mildly regrets that this position doesn’t allow Sorbet to get him off as well, but he’s too turned on by his current activities to care for the time being. Gelato swallows about another inch, so that the tip presses against the upper far edge of his mouth. He isn’t quite brave enough to push it any further, but Sorbet seems happy enough, so he’ll settle for this.

Gelato licks and sucks at Sorbet’s cock until his tongue starts to go numb. He starts to wonder how much longer this is meant to last, until Sorbet places a hand on his cheek to stop him.

“I don’t imagine you’d enjoy it very much if I shot down your throat just yet, so how about we save that for another time?”

Gelato pulls himself off, gulping strongly to try and return some feeling of normalcy to his mouth.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Gelato agrees. “So what next? We fuck for real?”

“I suppose so. Would you rather top of bottom?” Sorbet offers him.

“Do what now?”

“Fuck or get fucked.”

“Uhh, get fucked. Having you inside me sounds hot as hell,” Gelato decides.

“Alright, I’m good with that. I’d think I’d prefer to top, so it works well,” Sorbet accepts. He pauses. He suddenly curses as though having realised something. “We don’t have lube. We can’t have sex without lube.”

“Sure we can!” Gelato insists.

“Gel, you will bleed, and you will cry, and you will hate me. We aren’t having sex without lube.”

“Fine,” Gelato concedes. “I’ll see what’s in the bathroom.”

Gelato disappears into the side room and Sorbet hears the sound of rummaging. Something makes him pause.

"Holy fuck I found some!"

"Really?" Sorbet asks.

"Yeah, there's a bottle in the bin, they must have forgotten to change it. There's still some inside!" Gelato affirms. Sorbet chuckles.

"I would normally be concerned about the hygienic implications of that, but fortunately for you I am very horny. We'll give it a shot."

“Right, let’s try this,” Gelato mutters excitedly, returning to the bedroom. Sorbet takes the cue to wriggle out of his pants. He takes Gelato’s hand as he sits beside him.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

“Not sure. But I want to kiss you lots.”

“In my lap then?” Sorbet suggests. “It’s probably best if you control the pace anyway.”

“Sounds good to me,” Gelato says, straddling Sorbet’s hips once more. He pours the lubricant awkwardly onto them both. He grabs both of Sorbet’s hands, and pauses.

“I’ll admit… I’m kind of nervous,” he confesses.

“You’ll be fine, just don’t push yourself,” Sorbet assures him. “But if you need to stop at any time, just say so. I’ll understand.”

“Okay. ‘Love you,” Gelato mutters.

“I love you too,” Sorbet smiles. They both lean forward. They kiss, and Gelato allows himself to sink down.

There’s an immediate tension in Gelato’s body the moment Sorbet enters him. He lets out a little noise of shock, or maybe pain, before settling his head on Sorbet’s shoulder. His boyfriend pets him reassuringly.

“Gel, are you alright?” Sorbet checks. Gelato nods. “Does it hurt?” Another nod. “We can stop if you want. We can always try again another day.”

“No,” Gelato insists, meeting his eyes again. “I can do this. I want to do this,” he promises. “I just- can’t move.”

“I can take over, if you’d like,” Sorbet offers. Gelato nods. “Alright, I’m just going to lie you down gently,” Sorbet explains, before putting an arm around Gelato’s back and carefully laying him down on the mattress, positioning himself over him. “There, shall I try moving now?”

“Please.”

Sorbet begins to gently thrust the first few inches of himself back and forth inside Gelato, the blond grunting slightly as he adjusts to the stretch. After the first few movements, his body relaxes, and all other signs of pain disappear. He eyes Sorbet with a look of relief.

“How does it feel?” Sorbet asks.

“Kind of neutral, now? Doesn’t hurt any more but it doesn’t really feel strongly in any other way? If that makes sense? Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise! It’s important you’re honest with me. It might not feel good yet because I’m not very deep in. I think the spot I’m looking for is further up. Mind if I try and find it?” Sorbet offers. Gelato is quick to accept. Sorbet slowly pushes the rest of his length through Gelato’s entrance and the blond feels the difference at once. He moans, stretching his legs and rolling back his head as he grips Sorbet’s hands for dear life.

“Oh god, you’ve found it. Right there, just keep doing that,” he pleads. Sorbet just can’t help but chuckle.

“Anything you say, darling.”

The next few minutes go by in a whirlwind of bliss. Gelato quickly gives up on any hint of dignity as he moans without care, and even Sorbet feels his grip on control start to fade. They start to forget that there’s anyone else in the world except themselves, and each other.

It occurs to Sorbet he probably can’t hold it much longer without cumming. Eager not to leave Gelato unfinished, he starts to rapidly pump Gelato’s cock to spur on his climax. A moment later and they’re both spent, lying in a breathless heap on top of each other as Gelato feels his insides becoming filled.

Sorbet kisses Gelato on the forehead, then climbs off of him. Excusing himself, he heads into the bathroom for a drink. He hears his lover calling to him.

“Sorbet, my legs aren’t working!”

“Just stay there my love,” Sorbet says mirthfully. “I’ll clean you with a towel, and you can wash properly in the morning.” He returns to his side with the promised item. “Hey, you did wonderful,” he assures him. He leans in close as though to kiss him again, but Gelato gets their first and nips his lip.

“You know what you’ve done now, don’t you,” Gelato smiles.

“Oh? you’ll have to tell me.”

“I’m going to need that every night now, otherwise I’ll be unbearably needy.”

Sorbet tuts.

“However will I survive?”

Their lips meet once more.

#sorlatoweek2021 #sorbet and gelato #la squadra

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apoostrotea · 3 years ago

Note

I always wanted to like tea because it's good for health and it's natural, but my past experiences have been very underwhelming, so I kind of gave up. After seeing your comic about tea I'm thinking of trying some again.

What would you recommend?

Of course I recommend trying gongfu brewing if you haven’t already. For me, it’s meditative. That’s what I really enjoy about tea. Very easy to get into, I’ll make a guide soon. When it comes to finding teas you actually enjoy flavor-wise, I recommend doing a little deep dive on oolong. Oolong is almost always my go-to for serving to guests unfamiliar with pure leaf tea. So many different types of oolong to try, you’re almost guaranteed to find one you enjoy. I personally prefer more high roasted oolongs. It’s important that you shop from a tea seller that you trust, too. Additionally, if you’re looking to chase that mystical tea high I’d recommend checking out some raw puerh, or (on a total other spectrum) matcha. I find those two types of tea to have the greatest effect on my mind and body. Note, for puerh, I’ve never gotten that effect not doing gongfu brewing.

#apoostroteaasks

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captainneverever · 4 years ago

Text

Tony loved Steve, truly deeply loved Steve. Steve was a shining bright spot in a terrible unfair universe and Tony's life was immeasursably better for having known Steve and having Steve in his life. Tony would always pick Steve to ride shotgun, follow him to the ends of the galaxy, and Steve was the love of his life. He was ride-or-die for Steve.

But, christ, Steve was going to get himself killed someday.

Fine, he jumped out of airplanes without parachutes, ran into gun battles with a shield and nothing else, fought when his armor had been shredded into ribbons, blood running his face, body bruised. Never giving up or giving quarter in a fight with men or gods.

It's not that that was going to get Steve killed.

It was extreme sports. Definitely extreme sports.

Base jumping? Not much different than Steve's day job. UFC? All the varieties of martial arts? Already part of Steve's training routine. And Steve was way too familiar with street fighting rules from growing up small scrawny and ready to throw down.

Parkour and freerunning fans quickly posted videos of Steve in action from Avengers battles or Steve's rare street workouts. Steve took a few days off here and there to do cave diving, rock climbing, drive in a desert rally race. Hang gliding was something he, Sam and Bucky would do for kicks on a Tuesday afternoon when they were bored.

The internet exploded one with a video of Tony Hawk showing Steve how to skateboard. Next day, Steve had built a half-pipe in an Avengers training room for a weeks-long skateboarding obsession.

Tony waited for the call that Steve had broken every bone in his body, was in a coma or or worse, dead because he finally lost his war with gravity.

What was worse was that Steve did in fact do all of that, except the dead thing. But with a healing factor and Steve's innate athletic ability, Steve was usually ready for another challenge in a short time. Tony listened with a sick stomach as Steve would push back into place dislocated fingers.

That was infuriating to Tony. He loved Steve so desperately and Steve wasn't ever going to learn not to go free-soloing in Yosemite on his own with maybe a satellite phone.

Steve teased Tony back by pointing out all the risks Tony took. Except Tony had armor between him and danger and Steve had clothing and skin. At least Steve did wear a helmet and pads.

While Tony was away on a business trip and an Iron Man-only mission, Steve started taking classes in something. He was pretty enthuised by whatever it was. Something extreme and crazy probably. Tony didn't want to know because he didn't want to fret about Steve. At least it was in the Tower and in New York so someone could help Steve.

He arrived home in the afternoon to an empty suite and a note from FRIDAY that Steve was in the Avengers gym.

Tony gritted his teeth, barely ready to handle any of the insanity Steve might be involved in, and opened the door.

Steve had hung various lengths and colors of filmy but not flismy fabric strips from the ceiling of the gym, and Steve's workout music was blaring over a loudspeaker. The man himself, in those low hung yoga pants that gave Tony brain-freeze, was high up entwined and twisting in the strips.

Tony was mesmerized by Steve's balletic aerobic routine in the air, at odds with the jazzy music. Then Steve saw him and slid graceful down a deep blue strip of fabric. The sharp contrast of the deep color against Steve's mostly naked flushed skin and his bright eyes nearly killed Tony from the beauty of it all.

"Tony," Steve said fondly as he hugged him.

"What's -- what's this?" Tony asked.

"Aerial dance."

Tony tentatively yanked on a strip of fabric within arm's length. He was pleased to find that fabric was firmly anchored. That wasn't always a guarantee.

Steve snickered. "You thought --"

Tony actually didn't have any thoughts because Steve was warm and he was back home and they should have been in bed an hour ago. "This is the new extreme sport?" he finally blurted out.

"A version of one, I guess. I told you I was taking classes."

"It would have -- I thought you were talking BMX racing or something involving mud and hospital visits." Tony waved at the gym and then at Steve.

"You're not going to complain this time?"

"Not if you are going to wear those pants." Gosh he hoped that Steve would be doing this for more than a few months.

Steve laughed. "Sit down, I'll give you a private show."

#stevetony #stony #my fic

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ressyfaerie · 4 years ago

Text

OKAY YALL.

I haven’t been paying attention at all.

Do you want to be really angry,

Like really, really angry?

I’m putting this in a read more since there’s going to be a LOT and it may start a FIRE.

It was a lonely snowy night in the north of British Columbia Canada.

Just kidding.

For real though- I had no internet! We could only watch TV on satellite (the only anime I watched was on YTV). If it snowed in the winter we had to go outside and brush the snow off the satellite to continue watching Beyblade or Inuyasha.

So I was 5-6 when I first started watching Beyblade. Of course I LOVED IT. I would rush home to try to watch it everyday. Beyblade has just airing and it was a HIT. I watched season 1 religiously, I actually don’t remember watching much of V-force or G-rev but that’s probably because it wasn’t made yet lmao.

I grew up in a small town, whatever you’re imagining, imagine it smaller. (I could write a whole essay on the social hierarchy of Port Ed in the early 2000s but I’ll keep it short for now) White kids= rich/ pretentious, Native kids=poor. I didn’t like the attitude of most of the white girls, so I mostly made friends with the native kids (I miss yall btw) but anyways, this is where you’re going to get angry.

So I didn’t know what Japanese WAS. Like I knew what Chinese was (Small town surrounded by racists? Who would have guessed?) I don’t even think I knew Japanese existed, but any other anime I watched (Sailor moon, Inuyasha, Gundam Wing) most of the characters were white representing or had extremely light skin tones.

So what the heck was 5 year old me supposed to do with beyblade? Which was a show filled with lots of different ethnicities? 5 year old me was obsessed with beyblade, tearing apart every episode I saw, so I gathered: Max=American, Ray=Chinese, Kai=Russian (Because that’s what matched with all their championships, makes sense to a kid right?)

But what WAS Japanese? I dunno? But you know who Tyson looked like?

My chubby native friends.

THAT’S RIGHT

YALL ARE DEBATING BIRACIAL KAI

LITTLE ME THOUGHT TYSON WAS NATIVE FOR YEEEAAAARRRSSSSS.

I’m laughing as I write this, when I learned Japan was indeed a real place, it didn’t dawn on me immediately. It still took finding beyblade online when I was like 11, re-watching it and being like ‘huh’. (Note: Remember when beyblade was on youtube but each episode was like 4 parts? Good times.)

So, on the topic of Kai.

First of all, I need to point something out that I deem obvious, but must be said.

Beyblade (As well as many other shows from long ago (Yugioh, Naruto, Inuyasha, and Sailor moon come to mind), a lot of us latched on to these shows so hard because of trauma or lonely childhoods. Which means a lot of us find our connections to these shows or characters very personal, which is why it’s hard to break headcannons. It’s more than a fandom for us, and any of us who feel this way, are risking their comfort show to involve themselves in the fandom (This is why I believe a lot of beyblade fans don’t interact with fandom, and I go out of my way to warmly welcome all whenever I can)

It needs to be said, that you owe no explanation to anyone, and neither do I, nor do I apologize for my headcannons.

With this being said, I knew eventually the fandom would blow up (as it has many times, over the idea of biracial Kai/ Kai with Russian ancestry/ Japanese Kai), now that it has hit so close to home, I feel the need to validate my decision to make Kai biracial in my two long main fics. However, it needs to be stated, I am not doing this to validate myself, but because I simply want to talk about it, I’m not explaining, or apologizing, simply stating some facts, and how I feel.

For a lot of us, these characters are so personal and we’ve kept them for so long that they’re verging on OC’s, this is NOT YOUR JOB to point out! Although I believe my Kai is very close to canon, there’s many things that aren’t, regardless, myself and many others, still belong to the fandom.

Back to my childhood:

FINALLY DIAL-UP INTERNET!

The first thing I did when I learned how to read and had private access to internet was google ‘Kai Beyblade’, if you asked, I probably would have said a child’s equivalent to ‘“fuck you that’s why”.

I learned his last name was Hiwatari, and man, I thought that was SO COOL. But that wasn’t a Russian name was it? I dived further, I don’t think the beyblade wiki even existed at this point, I think I was reading everything off of wikipedia. What I read was: Kai’s father was Russian and his mother was Japanese. I didn’t think too much of it, I mean, it made sense. It would explain Voltaire’s connection to Russia. Later on I realised it made more sense for Kai’s mother to be Russian since the Hiwatari name is Japanese and would most likely come from his grandfather, and for some reason, I was convinced Susumu was Voltaire’s son. The idea of Voltaire marrying his son off to some Russian heiress made so much sense to me. I never read fics, my ideas were definitely influenced by wiki edits, I had no reason to doubt it, or think any differently, I think a lot of people followed the same footsteps. It’s interesting to think that’s how headcanons became universal back in the day.

I learned the manga existed after a trip to Metrotown Vancouver where I bought every volume they had (3 lmao) (I still haven’t read every volume, and will when I can afford them).

I just always assumed Kai was biracial, IT JUST MADE SENSE. Kai’s family’s deep ties to Russia, the reason why he knew Russian (regardless of the Abbey), his figure compared to Tyson’s in season 1, I had no reason to doubt it, and it seemed the Dub side of the internet agreed!

When I wrote my fanfics at 18-19, 5 (years ago now, wow), I still assumed Kai was biracial. Only recently have I dived into the fandom and got into every side (Sub, Dub, Manga). I learned there’s 3 things Dub/Sub/Manga people will instantly fight over: Kai’s race, character’s names, and their ages.

The reason these three things are so debated is because of the dramatically different storylines/ differences in language versions. The Dub and Sub are two completely different shows when played side by side. I am most familiar with the Dub, as it stays close to my heart, which influences most of my headcanons.

I still headcanon Kai as biracial. We actually don’t know much about his parents, and canon is very loosey goosey. We’re learning more in Rising, but I highly doubt Takao Aoki is going to be like “AND THEN KAI’S MOM WENT TO VISIT HER RUSSIAN FAMILY IS RUSSIA BECAUSE SHE IS RUSSIAN” I’m not going to go into super detail why I think it’s likely that Kai is biracial, but you know what? It doesn’t really matter. This fandom is old, and being from the early 2000’s that means the dub is much different, which means there are MULTIPLE versions of canons. I guarantee you, in every version there is something problematic, and one of the least important ones, is whether or not the fandom white-washes Kai by making him biracial (Maybe full Russia could be an issue, but you know what? Does it really matter?). You know what DOES MATTER. What they did to Eddy, they did that boy dirty.

I mean they LITERALLY white-washed him. LIKE.

Also changing Tyson/ Takao’s skin tone in G-rev/ V-force will forever annoy me; that might be an asian skin whitening thing though, still, problematic.

But anyways, in the end I’m sure the reason why the English fandom so frequently headcanons Kai as biracial is not because of white-washing, but because of the time the Dub was created.

The early 2000’s was an interesting time. Some towns were still stuck in the 90’s, lots of kids had no access to the internet, and when they finally DID, they did not use it wisely. Misinformation was spread easily. Not many people in America read the manga, and very few people watched the Sub.

People like me, young and old, filled in the gaps that were missing.

It’s been 20 YEARS GUYS. A lot has changed. Headcanons that aren’t problematic will stick. As long as it’s not hurting anybody, or anyone else, it’s really not a bad thing.

Our main focus should be to keep the fandom going! We can’t die, we’ve been together too long to die and I refuse to let it happen, where will I get my serotonin from??

Here’s a pic of my love to end it off:

Dumb idiot loser fuckin smiles fucking lunatic.

#ressyfaerie #beyblade thoughts #on the subject of kai biracial headcanons and how they came to be #yall dont forget ive been here for the loooooonnggg ride #i was seeing the wikipedia edits ages ago #the passive aggressive edits were what gave me life

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angryinternetduck · 3 years ago

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When All Feels Lost Chapter Three: We'll Be Alright Nerves, fancy boas, a phoenix rising from the ashes. A princess is left on a cliffhanger, Harry's a dramatic Renoir painting, and you dive in headfirst. It won't be an easy ride, but you'll be alright. Warnings: Explicit language and more of the heavy topics from last chapter. about 8,000 words << prev chapter | series masterlist | general masterlist | ask ~*~ “You look nervous,” Harry murmurs into your ear as he appears next to you. His hand hovers at your waist, charm turned up high as he gives smiles and waves to the people walking into the theater.

You shrug, keeping your own smile on your face as you say, “Looks can be deceiving.”

“You’re gonna be great,” Harry tells you anyway.

“Sure hope so.”

Around you, the theater looks nothing less than glorious. All the lights are on, a warm golden against the deep burgundy of the walls and carpet. Diamonds glitter, shoes shine, dress hems flirt with the floor.

There’s a low hum of chatter from the masses of people filtering through the lobby and making their way to their seats. Lights in the chandelier hanging miles above you twinkle and clink as they shift in the soft breeze floating through the open doors.

Despite what you told Harry, he’s right; you’re nervous as hell.

Which makes sense. It’s opening night. Of course you’re nervous.

Your first scene is a few scenes into the second act, meaning you have plenty of time to help Harry greet everyone up front before heading backstage to get ready. It’s quite different than all of your previous opening night experiences, but it’s no less nerve-wracking. In fact, it’s significantly more nerve-wracking because of how much is riding on its failure.

A small man wearing a beret and large glasses catches your attention, and you nudge Harry so he sees him too. Harry nods, confirming your suspicions: that’s the critic from The New Yorker.

Harry wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Laughing slightly, you walk over to the critic and start to fiddle with your purse. He looks up, thick eyebrows furrowing at the sight of you. “Hello,” he says curtly, and you smile at him. “Hi,” you reply. “You’re here for Fatigue?”

“Yes.”

“A critic?” you go on.

“Yes.”

You clear your throat, slipping your hand into your purse. Lowering the small bag to waist height and glancing around to ensure no one’s looking your way, you murmur, “I’m a co-producer of this fantastic play...” You shift your fingers to show him a few hundred dollar bills. “And I’m sure your review will be nothing less than spectacular, correct?”

The critic scoffs, eyes widening, and he whips off his glasses in rage. “You dare attempt bribe me?” he hisses. “You think I, a critic of high moral and dignity, can be swayed by a few measly dollar bills?”

You struggle to hide your grin.

“I can assure you, madam,” the critic continues, “this review will be short and honest.”

“Oh, no,” you say.

The critic scowls at you, barks a crisp, “Goodbye,” and storms out of the theater.

Turning around, you meet Harry’s gaze and snap your fingers in a sarcastic oh, drats sort of fashion. Harry grins, and this time you don’t hide your own smile as you mirror his expression and walk back to him.

“Too easy,” you tell him.

Harry smiles. “And now we wait for, uh - Joe,” he says, reading an email on his phone.

“Joe,” you echo.

“Dziemianowicz.”

You blink. "What’d you just call me?”

Harry snickers and tilts his phone so you can see the name on the screen. Sure enough, it says Joe Dziemianowicz. “‘The esteemed critic from the New York Times,’” you read. “I’m sure he’ll love this.”

Harry shakes his head. “I certainly hope he doesn’t.”

“Right,” you say. “How do you know he won’t react like, uh - like The New Yorker guy?”

“Because I’m such a charmer,” Harry replies with a sweet smile.

You raise a brow. “And I’m not?”

“You are,” Harry says, shrugging. “When you want to be.”

“You flatter me,” you deadpan.

Harry grins. “I do try my hardest.” He points out a guy with a notebook under his arm, then tells you, “I’ll catch up with you later, yeah? Make sure D’Angelo’s not fainted yet.” He walks off, and you watch him for a second.

The plan is to get as many awful reviews as possible. Most of them should just come naturally - no one could watch the play and give it any positive comments at all - but you’re guaranteeing two of them to be absolutely horrific with bribes.

The critic you just attempted to bribe from The New Yorker should give some sort of irate nonsense about the dishonorable intentions of the producers of the surely terrible Fatigue. As for the fellow Harry’s heading for, his review will be more detailed in its critique. Harry’s goal is to actually bribe this Joe Dziemianowicz successfully - but for a bad review.

As Harry begins his explanation to Mr. Dziemianowicz, you slip through the crowds until you reach backstage, where D’Angelo is, in fact, on the brink of losing consciousness. He’s taking small sips of water from a glass in which you can see small pink feathers floating. They’re probably from the large pink boa he’s wearing over his suit, which is a slightly jarring green color covered in tiny pink butterflies.

“Angel,” you greet him, giving him a hug.

“Oh, Magenta,” D’Angelo replies woefully. “It’s a disaster. A complete and utter disaster.”

You sigh. “It hasn’t even started.”

“Oh, but when it does, it shall go down in flames.”

“And from the ashes shall rise a phoenix.”

D’Angelo gives you a faint smile. “I do adore you, darling.”

“And I you,” you say with a grin. “Come on, Angel, we have a play to put on.” You gently lead him through the dressing tables, where everyone’s getting ready. Someone glues orange lashes on while another person zips their dress; an actor expertly quiffs his hair in the corner with a loud can of hairspray.

“Your optimism… is inspiring,” D’Angelo murmurs, absentmindedly fixing someone’s collar as he passes. “That’s the goal,” you tell him, taking his glass of water from him when he holds it out to free both his hands. He takes a makeup brush and palette out of a girl’s hand and begins to brush some product on her face. She looks slightly startled, but doesn’t say anything.

“Where’s your Harry?” he asks as he works. “Charming the audience, I presume?”

You start to reply, stop, and then decide on, “Um… probably.”

“He certainly has a way about him, doesn’t he,” D’Angelo muses.

You clear your throat and look down, smiling involuntarily. “Yeah.”

D’Angelo sighs. “You must remember to keep your head up.”

Impulsively, you snap your chin up straight, then realize he’s talking to the girl whose makeup he’s doing. “And keep your voice up as well,” D’Angelo continues. “Project, my dear. You have a very pretty voice.”

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Also,” D’Angelo adds, handing her makeup products back, “your blouse is inside out.”

Flushing through her makeup, the girl looks down at her blouse, which is, in fact, inside out. The tag waves at you from her neckline. She looks a bit horrified, and she hurries away to correct it as D’Angelo ambles on.

“Have you talked it out yet?” he asks. “With Harry?”

You frown. “Huh?”

“Oh, you know,” D’Angelo hums, giving you a lazy smile. “The ‘what are we’ talk.”

You’re too surprised to even reply, but D’Angelo takes your surprise for denial. “Oh, don’t play coy, Magenta. To steal the wise words of Miss Swift” - he clears his throat - “you could see it with the lights out.”

“Sometimes,” you tell him, “you’re just a bit too dramatic.”

He catches your eye. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You hold his gaze. “You are.”

“Your acting talent is astounding,” D’Angelo murmurs, looking away.

“I think I preferred your hopeless talk of your failing play.”

His brows jump. “My failing play,” he echoes incredulously.

“Our failing play,” you amend.

“Go find Harry, darling,” D’Angelo tells you with a smile, “and stop bothering me.”

You grin. “If you insist. Break a leg, Angel.”

“I’ll break yours if you keep talking,” he says. “Run along, now.”

***

The theater, sweeping out below you in a magnificent blend of golds and reds, is truly breathtaking. You’re in the balcony seats reserved for you and Harry now, watching the chatter and buzz of the people below.

You nudge him and echo his words from earlier. “You look nervous.”

“I am,” he mutters.

“Don’t be.”

He laughs wryly, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “Gee, that fixes everything.” You sigh and sit back in the chair, looking down at the stage. “It’ll work. There’s no way it won’t.”

“I know,” Harry says softly, looking up.

There’s a beat of silence. You’re not sure what to say. Then the lights begin to dim, and Harry leans back again. In the darkness, you feel his hand find yours. He squeezes your hand, then lets go.

The conversation fades, and Charlie Manswell, playing Leopold Gray the retired FBI agent, walks out onto stage. He looks even more nervous than Harry does; you can see his hands shaking from all the way up here.

The play drags on. Neither you nor Harry says a word at all. Tension settles, heavy and dense, thickening in the air between you and Harry. An hour in, a group of people walk out. Low murmurs sound throughout the theater, and then it goes quiet once more.

You and Harry exchange a glance.

A few minutes before intermission, you go down to start getting ready for your part. Backstage, D’Angelo has calmed down significantly. He looks to be in a bit of a daze, holding his half-empty glass of water in both hands.

“Ah, Magenta,” he greets you when you say hi. “Just in time. Your costume’s over with Madeline… Stay away from the makeup, darling, Madeline will do it for you.” A smile teases the corners of his lips. “No more catastrophes, thank you…”

“I’ll try my best,” you reply, walking over to get changed. Your nerves intensify as you get dressed and made up. A swarm of butterflies turns your stomach over, adrenaline spikes through your veins, sweat gathers in your palms.

Standing in the wings just out of sight, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. The lights dim, the curtain lifts, and you open your eyes. Your gaze darts over the crowd, struggling to see anything through the bright lights.

It takes a second to process, but a grin’s breaking out across your face almost before you can fully form the thought: the theater’s practically empty. People must have walked out during the intermission, you realize with a quiet, giddy laugh.

Charlie, standing on stage, must have noticed too; his voice wavers just slightly through his first few lines. You feel a twinge of sympathy for him. Despite everything, you do feel terribly for all the actors who really are taking this seriously. They’ll still get their cut, though, if not a great review in the newspapers.

When you see your cue, you walk out and begin to act.

Ridiculously, it feels good to be on stage again. Even if it’s doomed to fail, if it’s a joke, if your already nonexistent reputation will almost certainly take a nosedive after this play even if it’s the best performance of your life.

The second half of the play goes much faster than the first. You’re taking bows before you realize, and you smile happily not because of rambunctious applause, but because of the few scattered claps you receive from the nearly empty audience.

Harry’s giving you a standing ovation from his box.

Backstage is quiet after the curtain falls. D’Angelo, surprisingly, is the most cheerful, popping around and giving everyone enthusiastic feedback. He’s exchanged his glass of water for a flute of champagne, which he sips at elegantly in between words.

“Wonderful job, darling, positively splendid,” he says to you, patting your cheek. To Harry, he adds, “And wonderful play, Mr. Styles. The reviews shall be the first of their kind.” A grin begins to spread across your face, and D’Angelo winks at you before whisking off to console someone crying by the mirrors.

“The first of their kind,” Harry echoes under his breath.

You laugh and reply, “He got that right.”

“Let’s get food,” Harry suggests. “I’m starved.”

Nodding, you tell him, “I’ll meet you at the diner,” and grab your stuff to change out of your costume. He walks off, saying goodbyes as he leaves. After changing into something more comfortable, you do the same, hugging D’Angelo goodbye and talking with a few people on your way out.

A Fleetwood Mac song is playing on the jukebox when you walk into the diner. Harry’s chewing french fries, staring out the window. He looks pensive, and you tell him that as you slide into the booth.

“I am,” he admits quietly. Then he tacks on, “Worried” like it hurts to say. “I’m worried.”

You bite your lip, watching him for a second. His eyes are downcast. “Your ringer’s on, right?” you ask, nodding at his cell phone. Harry nods, picking it up. “She’ll call,” he murmurs, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself.

“She will,” you assure him. It’s the company manager you’re talking about, who will hopefully decide that between the attendance - or lack thereof - and horrific reviews, she can’t keep your play open any longer.

“Ninety percent of the theater walked out,” you go on. “There’s no way they won’t close us.” Harry shrugs, leaning back and clearing his throat. “Er… yeah. Yeah.” He nods, an air of finality around him as if he’s done talking about it.

Tapping your fingers against the table, you hesitate for a second before speaking again. “Not to… pry or anything, but what happened with you and her?” you ask. “Gwen? The company manager?”

Harry’s brows jump. “What makes you ask that?”

A tad embarrassed, you shake your head. “Oh, it’s… nothing. Just with… Aurora… and what you said about, uh - Tanner Smith liking your old… girlfriend… presumably…” You laugh, a bit awkwardly. “But you don’t have to answer that. Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry says. He shrugs, looking at his glass of water. “Yeah, we had a thing. It was a while ago. We, erm… We were pretty close.” A small smile curves his lips as he traces shapes in the condensation on the glass, and your gaze shifts to the window.

“We worked on a project, a big play we wrote together… Smith helped with that. She’s gorgeous, Gwen…” He pauses again. You regret asking. Finally, he clears his throat and goes on, “Er, but yeah, he took a liking to her. That’s really the only reason he still invests in anything, I think. He keeps hoping she’ll come back.”

He looks up, giving a wry laugh. “She won’t. Aurora scared her off. I brought her to the hospital and she kind of… It was too much. She was a little bit… she wasn’t very…” He clears his throat. “Nice with her. With - er, with Aurora…” His smile fades into something a little bit more genuine, and he meets your eye. “Not nearly as nice as you are with her.”

You frown.

Another bit of a pause, and he looks back at his glass. “But, erm… yeah, Gwen wasn’t a huge fan of the whole… taking-care-of-a-sick-child-in-the-hospital thing. She said all this stuff about commitment and not even wanting -” His jaw clenches, and he makes faint air quotes with his fingers as he mutters, “‘Normal kids’, much less a kid that…” He fades off. “I dunno. Wasn’t great. So.” He looks up and shrugs. “That’s that.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “I’m - I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“Don’t be,” Harry sighs. “It’s over now.” He gives you a half-smile, popping a fry into his mouth. “I’ve gone and ruined the mood, haven’t I?” You shake your head and reply, “I asked.” You half-smile back at him. “If anything, it’s my fault.”

“If you insist,” Harry says. “Come on, tell me something good.”

You raise a brow. “Like what?”

He smiles big, nudging your foot gently under the table. “We’re going to Rio.”

You smile big too, because he’s not even kidding. You booked the tickets with him a few days ago. The plan is to get out of the country for a while until everything settles down. You’ll avoid a few calls, lay low, then come back to thousands of dollars and all your problems solved.

“I can’t wait to go to the beach,” you murmur, leaning back against the booth.

Harry hums in agreement. “You’ll love the view,” he says.

“You’ve been?” you ask.

Harry shakes his head, a stupid smile on his face. “Nah. But the view of me in my little yellow swim shorts can make up for any underwhelming scenery.” You scoff a laugh and echo, “Little yellow swim shorts?”

“They’re fantastic, darling,” Harry assures you with a big grin. “We’ll have to go shopping so we can match.” You nod, giggling despite yourself. “Forget the beach, I can’t wait for that.” Harry nods sagely. “It’ll be great.”

You crack jokes with him about his swim attire the whole way home.

The phone doesn’t ring once.

***

The second night is not nearly as exciting as the first. The lobby is empty. A few people filter in, but there were significantly more tickets bought than the number of attendees. As far as you know, there aren’t any more ticket sales, either.

You’re somehow even more uneasy than you were last night. Harry is, too. Nobody says anything. It’s just a bunch of nervous looks and heavy silence. Backstage is quiet, too. D’Angelo is the only one saying anything at all. His voice is lower, though, and even his orange boa seems to be a bit lifeless.

The play seems to take hours. People walk out. It’s getting a bit depressing - you realize that’s your goal, for the theater to be totally empty, but it’s really quite difficult to act to a nonexistent audience.

Backstage is quiet after the play, too. You get changed and walk out to meet Harry, brows jumping when you see him talking to a woman you don’t recognize. She’s tall and thin and blonde, sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her clothing is casual, just a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

“Hello,” you say hesitantly as you walk up to them.

“Hey, there,” the woman greets you. Bright blue eyes meet yours, and she smiles as she sticks her hand out for you to shake. Her nails are painted a light pink. You match her smile and shake her hand, introducing yourself.

“Nice to meet you,” she says. “I’m Gwen.”

Ah, you think. You steal a glance at Harry, who looks a bit tense.

You clear your throat. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Yeah,” she replies, laughing a little. “I, uh… Yeah. Well, uh, I was just starting to talk to H about Fatigue. And, um… I’m sorry, but I’m not sure you’ll be happy to hear our decision…” You look at Harry again, and he doesn’t meet your eye.

“That doesn’t sound good,” you say, because Harry stays quiet.

“Well, I think you’ve seen the reception,” Gwen says. “And there hasn’t been a single ticket sale since before it opened last night.” She sighs, a sympathetic look on her face as her gaze bounces between you and Harry. “I’m afraid we just can’t afford to keep it open any longer.”

“We understand,” Harry says, finally speaking up. His hand slides into yours, surprising you, and you watch Gwen’s eyes flick down to catch the action. “We’ll go tell everyone,” Harry goes on. “It was nice seeing you, Gwen.”

He leads you away, and you nod goodbye at Gwen a tad awkwardly over your shoulder.

“You okay?” you ask quietly once she’s out of earshot.

You see his jaw flex, but he doesn’t answer for a moment. He pulls his hand away from yours and runs it through his hair, and then, barely loud enough for you to hear, he says, “That was my sweatshirt.”

“Oh,” you say, wincing.

“I can’t believe her,” he mutters. “Christ.”

You pause a second, unsure what to say, then decide, “I’m surprised she didn’t just call.”

Harry just shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just… We’ll have to tell them. They should hear it from us.” You nod and murmur, “D’Angelo will be devastated.” Harry sighs, pushing open the door. “I’m sure he saw it coming.”

Everyone looks up when the two of you walk in.

As soon as D’Angelo sees your expressions, he finishes the last of his champagne in one gulp. He sighs, holding your gaze, and then speaks to Harry. “How’s your lovely Gwen doing, then?” he asks breezily, his easy tone a sharp contrast to his strained body language.

“I’m not sure,” Harry says quietly. “We didn’t talk much.”

D’Angelo hums lowly. “It’s not good news, I presume?”

“No,” you say. “No, it’s… it’s not.”

“Finished, are we?” D’Angelo asks.

Both you and Harry hesitate.

And then Harry answers, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” you add weakly.

D’Angelo raises his empty champagne flute. “It was a valiant effort.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then everyone looks away and begins packing up their things. Low chatter breaks out, and D’Angelo slowly drifts over to the half-empty bottle of champagne in the corner. He inspects the label, swirls it around, and then takes a drink directly from the bottle.

Harry clears his throat next to you. “I was planning to go to the hospital,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, that’s a - that’s a good idea,” you reply with a nod.

You lock eyes, just for a moment, and then Harry turns away.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” he says, and walks off.

You say your goodbyes and follow Harry out.

***

“You’re… leaving?” Aurora gasps, eyes wide and beginning to glisten.

Harry squeezes her hand and tells her, “Just for a while.”

“A while?” she echoes, a tear rolling down her cheek. “But - but -”

“We’ll be back before you know it, princess,” you murmur from behind Harry.

Harry nods. “You’ll blink and we’ll be back.”

Aurora hiccups a sob, chin wobbling as her gaze darts between you and Harry. “But we’re almost done with - with Trumpet,” she whispers. “You can’t leave me on a - a hill - a hang - a rock -” She breaks off with another sob, pulling away from Harry to wipe at her nose with her little hand.

Your heart cracks in two. “A cliffhanger,” you whisper.

“You can’t leave me!” Aurora cries.

“We’re not, baby,” Harry insists, voice cracking. “I promise, we’ll be back.”

Aurora sniffles, crossing her arms over her chest and stubbornly looking at the other end of the room, away from either of you. “Just go,” she whimpers. Harry reaches out, and she jerks away, closing her eyes as tears fall faster.

“We’ll be back,” Harry promises again, voice barely audible.

“Go away!” Aurora sobs, and she burrows under the blankets.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, looking hopeless, and you place your hands on his shoulders. “Come on,” you say softly. “She’ll come around. We’ll call her. FaceTime.” Harry closes his eyes, just for a second, and then stands up.

“We’ll… we’ll be right back,” he murmurs.

No response.

“I love you, okay?” he tries. “And I promise… I promise we’ll be… right back…”

Still nothing.

Harry wipes his face and clears his throat. “Bye, Aurora,” he whispers.

Aurora just sniffles again, pulling the blanket further over her head.

Gently, you take Harry’s hand and guide him out.

“It’ll all be worth it,” you tell him, squeezing his hand.

Harry nods and squeezes your hand back, silent.

***

Everything’s packed.

The money has been transferred to several offshore accounts, safe to stay unnoticed until everything’s settled down and you and Harry can start slowly shifting it back into your own accounts.

The plane ride is a bit tense. Harry brought a deck of cards, of course, and you trade magic tricks and play games of Go Fish and Gin Rummy. He chews gum and you giggle watching him attempt to blow bubbles.

It’s hot in Rio. Harry holds your hand as you navigate the airport and the buses to your hotel. It’s a relief to finally arrive, to collapse onto the big fluffy bed and sprawl out in the glorious air conditioning.

The first night, the two of you order room service and eat dinner while watching TV.

And the phone. You watch the phone, too.

Every so often, your gazes will both drift to the phone at the same time, and you’ll catch his eye and give a half-smile. You’re waiting for a call from an investor, of course, demanding where their money is and why the hell they haven’t been able to reach you.

In reality, there’s no way they’ll think of you. The play has probably already been forgotten. Individually, each person gave such a small amount that they probably forgot about it days after they signed the papers. To think that they’d not only remember your play but that they’d be angry that you lost their money is ridiculous.

There’s no way.

It’s silly to think about, really, and whenever you find yourself worrying, you take a breath and think about how mind-boggling your situation is. You’re in a hotel room in Rio de Janeiro that’s almost as big as your entire apartment.

The hotel room you’re in is large. It’s a suite. The bathroom’s ginormous, the closet’s practically just as big, and the desk is a rich, dark oak color fit with huge drawers and a bright lamp. There are two small couches situated in front of the windows, right in front of the door to the little balcony just outside.

Huge windows look out over the glittering city, and far in the distance, you can see the Christ the Redeemer statue. Twinkling lights wink at you, brightly colored in the pitch-black night. Trees sway in the light breeze, and the softest sound of music can be heard even as far from the city as you are.

In a suite as big as this, there are two beds. Harry falls asleep in the same bed you do anyway, on the opposite side. You don’t think about it until the next morning when you realize both of you somehow gravitated to the middle, and you’re curled into his side with your head on his chest.

The sound of birds wakes you up. You’re struck with the oddest of feelings; everything is just so surreal you’re not even sure where to begin. It’s so much more pleasant than it should be to just lay there, reveling in how content you are nestled up to this guy you used to despise with all your being.

Then, suddenly, your heart begins to ache, because you realize you haven’t gotten around to letting him know just how much your feelings towards him have changed. Nothing’s happened since that kiss, and it hurts.

It hurts just to think about it, and being right next to him like this isn’t helping. You roll out of bed, wash your face with cold water, push all of those thoughts out of your mind. It’s not worth the stress.

Harry stirs as you brew a cup of coffee, sitting up and running a hand through his hair with his eyes still half shut. “Smells good,” he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep. “Coffee,” you tell him, lifting your now full cup. “Want some?”

He nods, stretching up towards the ceiling before flopping back down. “Mhmm.”

You start another cup, then turn around and lean on the dresser, watching him while you take a hesitant sip of your scalding coffee. You can see his chest rising and falling gently, and his swallows peek out of his white t-shirt. He’s on his back, head to the side, morning sunlight reflecting through the trees by the window and splashing over his face like he’s in some dramatic Renoir painting.

The coffee maker sputters to a stop. You blink, feeling like an absolute creep for just staring at him like this, and hurriedly turn around to grab the cup. Harry sits up as you walk over, and after handing him his cup, you sit on the edge of the bed, crossing your legs and cradling your warm coffee in both hands.

He takes a sip, and his eyes flutter shut blissfully. “Bloody hell,” he sighs.

“Jesus,” you laugh. “It’s not that good.”

He pouts at you. “It’s fucking incredible.”

“Guess it’s those Brazilian nuts.”

Harry grins. “Damn right,” he says.

He holds your gaze for just a second, smile still in his eyes, and you have to look away.

Standing up, you clear your throat and turn to look out the window. “We should… go somewhere, or… something,” you say. There’s a beat of silence, and then he laughs, just a little, and you’re looking over at him again before you can stop yourself.

“What?” you ask, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling, either.

He giggles at you. “I - we’re in Rio, and you think we wouldn’t go somewhere?”

You scoff, shaking your head as your face heats a bit. “Hey, I don’t know!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he tells you, still smiling, and he stands up and runs his hands through his hair as he stretches again. “We can take a walk,” he suggests. “Get to know the place.” You nod, looking down into your coffee.

“Sounds good,” you say.

***

“It’ll have six bedrooms.”

Harry grins. “Eight bathrooms.”

“Twelve kitchens.”

“Fifteen pools.”

“Twenty - uh… Twenty… fireplaces…?”

Harry laughs, shaking his head, and takes your hand, swinging it up and down. You’re walking along a beach, sand slipping under your flip-flops and sinking under your feet. You’ve just finished breakfast, and you feel perfectly content.

“I’ve always wanted to build my own house,” Harry says.

“Missed opportunity in construction?”

Harry frowns and amends, “Er - well, more design my own house.”

You nudge his hip, smiling. “Think you’d look good in one of those orange hard hats.”

“Thought you’d prefer something else that’s hard…”

You scoff a laugh. “Wow. Coming on strong for ten in the morning.”

“Sorry,” Harry laughs. “Too much?”

“Maybe just wait a few more hours. Let me get something better than coffee in me.”

“Asking me to get you drunk?”

You just shrug, grinning at him.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Harry says.

There’s a beat of silence, and you watch your hand, intertwined with Harry’s, still swaying back and forth. The waves gently crash against the shore, birds chirping away in the distance.

After a second, you clear your throat. “So,” you say, “you kissed me.”

Harry gazes off at the water. “Did I?”

You stop walking. You open your mouth to reply, then close it again.

He looks at you, and there’s a smirk on his lips. “Don’t remember that,” he says.

You’re not sure how to respond. Hurt rushes through you, then anger, confusion, and -

“I think I’ll have to do it again,” he goes on. “See if it rings any bells.”

Relief floods your body. You smile, just slightly. “Right,” you breathe. “Guess you will.”

He kisses you, softly, hand cupping your cheek gently. He touches you gingerly, like you’ll break, like you’ll pull away, like he’s a little scared. So you’re the one to lean into him, you’re the one to slide a hand onto the nape of his neck and pull him closer, grinning against his lips and giggling when he smiles too.

“You’re a bastard for that,” you tell him when you pull away, a bit breathlessly.

“For what?” he asks innocently.

You roll your eyes. “Pretending you didn’t remember.”

“Sorry,” he says, kissing you once more.

He takes your hand, starting to walk again, letting silence linger for just a second. He’s looking at the sand, smile fading away. He looks like he’s in deep thought, and you squeeze his hand. “You okay?”

He looks up at you and smiles just a bit. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. I’m just thinking… You know, erm… I don’t want to pressure you,” he tells you, his voice lowering as he stops again to face you fully. “I, er… I know the original plan was to - you know, go our separate ways after… after all this. And it’s… It’s a lot, I know -” He laughs softly. “Christ, I’m a lot, just with Aurora, and the theater, and…” He fades off, running a hand over his face. “Er… But yeah. I just… I wanna let you know that I’m not… pressuring you to stay, or anything… We can stick to the - the plan.”

“No,” you say immediately, and then feel a bit self-conscious. “I mean… I don’t want to. I really…” You give him a smile. “I really like you. And Aurora. And it’s a lot, yeah, but… I don’t care. I don’t mind. I love all of it. I -” You falter, then, “I mean - I like - I -”

He raises a brow at you.

So you bite your lip, then dive in headfirst. “I love you,” you say.

“Love you too,” he replies with a big smile, and he kisses you.

***

It’s hours later, now, and you’ve wandered into some restaurant by the beach.

The bar is loud, crowded, and thrumming with music in Portuguese. Somebody’s singing from a big stage in the back. Your hand is firmly in Harry’s, walking next to him through the mass of moving bodies. A warm breeze heavy with ocean air flows through huge open windows, colorful lights shining in the dark.

When you finally make it to the counter, Harry gestures vaguely at something on the wall to the bartender, and you point at the drink of the person next to you. You glance at each other, shrug, and watch as the bartender mixes and shakes up a bunch of mysterious liquids.

Your final result is bright blue, like the one the girl next to you just finished. Harry’s is pink and green. With laughs neither of you can hear over the noise, you clink your glasses against each other and take sips.

Harry’s nose wrinkles. “Sour,” you see him say.

Yours is extremely sweet, and you make an eh motion with your hand and hold it out to him. He takes it and gives you his, and you try his as he tries yours. Your nose must wrinkle like his did, because he grins and hands yours back.

You shake your head, though, and look around for someone who has a drink you’d actually like to have. When you spot someone downing a shot glass full of what looks like water but clearly isn’t, you point that out to the bartender along with two fingers.

A few shots later, you’re buzzing, dancing with Harry amid the mass of people on the dance floor. The music’s so loud, electrifying the air around you. It seems like you’re being shifted towards the front of the room, and before you know it, you appear to be on the raised platform all the way at the front.

Bright lights hit your face, making you giggle and squint. People start clapping, Harry spins you around, and everyone cheers. There’s a screen directly in front of you. You walk up to it, practically dragging Harry with you, and realize it’s a song bank - and there are microphones on the table next to it.

“Karaoke!” you shout at Harry.

He grins and starts flicking through the song choices. When you see one you like, you reach out and tap the screen, pointing at it. Harry laughs and nods excitedly, clicking it. Immediately, the music changes.

On cue, you and Harry come in.

“Yoooo, I’ll tell you what I want, what I really, really want -”

It’s not in Portuguese, but nobody seems to mind, and they give you rambunctious applause regardless. You and Harry can barely get the words out for how much you’re laughing and giggling at each other’s dance moves and crazy singing. He spins you around again, you spin him, both of you trip on the mic wires at least three times. As the song ends, he dips you, kisses your nose, and then stands up so both of you can take big bows.

You’re breathless by that point, and you stumble off the stage with Harry as someone else takes the mic. On some unsaid agreement, you both keep going out of the restaurant and back onto the beach towards your hotel.

With your fingers tangled in his and chests heaving, you walk all the way back to the hotel. It’s pretty close, and when you arrive, the two of you lean against the door and grin at each other, hearts still racing.

Harry kisses you, then, hand sliding against your cheek and lips smiling against yours. The wood of the door is cool against your back, and it’s not because of the hot Brazilian air that you’re warming up again.

He pulls his shoulder off the door, almost pinning you against it as your smiles fade and your kisses become more desperate. You want more, more, more; want him closer, closer - even closer - and with fumbling fingers you shed the clothes that separate you as you lurch towards the bed.

It’s warm, in Brazil, so warm, and you’ve never felt a greater thrill.

***

The next morning, after grins and kisses and coffee, the phone rings.

Harry glances at you, then picks it up.

“Hello?” he says. Then, “Yes, this is he.”

He’s quiet for a while. He fiddles with his lip.

“I know,” he says. “Right. Right, I know. Don’t worry… Yes, expect a call soon. Won’t be from me, no, but… No… Yes, of course, I… Fantastic. Great talking with you. Expect that call! Bye, bye now.”

He hangs up.

“Investor?” you ask.

He nods.

You open your mouth to say something, then stop.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you, starting to smile. “They’ll never remember. One call, that’s all. That wasn’t even the guy himself - it was his assistant. We’ll be buried under hundreds of other things to do. I’ve had to remind people, you know, even on plays that do well. They always forget.”

You’re not quite persuaded, but he comes over and squeezes your shoulder and says, “It’ll be alright” so convincingly that you can’t help but believe him. You nod, taking his hand, and let him lead you out to the balcony, where fruit and warm bread are waiting for you.

Over the next few weeks, only a couple of calls come in. Harry handles them, uses that same calming tone, and says basically the same thing each time: expect a phone call, sorry for the delay, don’t worry about it.

You sit back and distract your racing heart with the beautiful sights, sounds, and food.

***

Harry makes some killer pancakes. After living with him for months and months, you’ve had more than your fair share of his fluffy, buttery pancakes. And while you’d be the first to crown him the best pancake maker in New York, his pancake breakfasts have absolutely nothing on the Brazilian breakfasts you’ve had since you’ve gotten to Rio de Janeiro.

Nevertheless, it’s a few weeks later, and you’ve awoken to the scent of bacon.

“What are you doing?” you ask incredulously, following your nose to the small kitchenette in the hotel suite. “Pancakes!” Harry exclaims, flipping around to brandish his teeny frying pan at you.

“Oh, Harry,” you sigh, taking a tiny pancake from the pile anyway.

Harry turns back around to busy himself with his task. “Listen,” he begins seriously. “I’m aware of how good the food here is. We’re had right scrumptious meals here -” You giggle through a bite of pancake and interrupt, “You’re right scrumptious.”

“Shush,” Harry says, but you can see him dimpling from behind him. “What I mean to say is that I was bored, so don’t blame me for the American food.” You frown at his back. “Bored?” you echo.

You’ve hardly been sitting around doing nothing, you think at first, but then as you think about it more, you… kind of have. The two of you were on a good run the first few days, going out every day and finding a new sight to see. Three weeks in, though, it’s a lot more tempting to just stay in bed all day and lounge around in the sunshine.

“Yeah,” Harry replies now as he turns to face you. “I’m getting antsy.”

“Find an anteater.”

He pouts.

You smile apologetically at him and hold up a little pancake. “Delicious.”

“Thanks,” he says.

You bite your lip, leaning back in your chair as your brain slowly wakes up. “How about… a picnic?” you suggest. “We could go down to the beach again and bring a basket - make it all aesthetic and pretty!”

Harry points his spatula at you. “That’s the spirit!”

“You can pack the basket,” you say.

He frowns. “Maybe try a different spirit.”

“How about - I don’t pack it, and you pack it!”

“That’s… the same spirit.”

“I’ve never believed in ghosts anyway,” you tell him, and you stand up, sliding your plate into the sink. “Have fun!” you say, patting him on the chest as you pass him “And pack some fruits, Styles. Let’s stay healthy.”

“Let’s,” Harry echoes, grumbling, “as in let us. Let us pack the basket.”

“You’re such a gentleman,” you call.

He is, really, he is a gentleman, because he packs it despite your later offers to help and then presents you with a ginormous sun hat when you appear fully changed. You put it on, and when its brim droops over your forehead, you say, “Hey, it flops, just like all of your plays!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry scoffs, but he’s laughing so he can’t be too insulted.

It’s gorgeous by the water, unsurprisingly, and you feed each other strawberries and sip sparkling water while you chatter away about nothing. You drift closer and closer until you’ve forgotten all about the view of the sunset for strawberry sweet kisses, and you both decide to call it a day and head back for the hotel.

You see him fiddling with his phone as you step out of the bathroom, changed after your shower, and your smile dims a little as you realize what he’s thinking. “We should try again,” you tell him, and he looks up, looking conflicted.

You’re talking about Aurora, about calling her, because she hasn’t picked up the last twenty times you’ve tried. Harry’s talked to her nurses, who say she’s doing relatively well health-wise but not great with everything else. She misses them, the nurses say, but she’s still angry.

“Come on,” you say, plopping down next to him on the bed and gently sliding his phone out of his hands. You move slowly, giving him the opportunity to stop you, and then hand it to him before pressing the call button.

He gives you a smile. “Hundredth time’s the charm.”

And lo and behold - he’s right.

“You gotta come back,” Aurora says as soon as she picks up. “I had a dream about the little swan last night, Harry, you gotta come back! I need to know what happens!” Harry breathes an incredulous laugh and clears his throat.

“I - er, yeah, Ror, of course,” he says. “Soon.”

You pop into the camera view for a second, wiggling your fingers, and Aurora gives a shy smile. “Hi,” she says, sounding a little guilty. “Sorry for not… picking up.” Harry glances at you, and you reply, “Don’t worry about it, princess.”

“We’re still sorry,” Harry adds.

Aurora pouts, looking down, and mumbles, “Should be.”

“Just a few more weeks, Ror,” Harry tells her, his voice weak.

She huffs a little bit and then glances up again. She moves around a little bit, peering into the camera like she’s trying to look behind you. “Where are you guys, anyway?” Harry smiles and exclaims, “Brazil!”

Aurora still looks confused. “Well, where’s that?”

“Remember when we went to Disney World for your birthday?” Harry asks, and when Aurora nods, he goes on, “Right, well, it’s like if you went there, then kept going for a few hours until you heard Portuguese.”

Aurora blinks, then chirps, “Okay!”

“How’re you, princess?” Harry asks. “Any drama we should be aware of?”

“Oh, so much,” Aurora gushes. She starts her story, and as the air warms with her voice, Harry’s hand slides into yours and you begin to relax. Through the end of the phone call, you and Harry can barely keep the smiles off your face.

***

You stay in Brazil for a long time. After it’s been two weeks without a single call from any of the investors, you decide to pack it up. Back home, it’s totally quiet, like nothing ever happened. It’s still scary, though, and the plane ride back is mostly quiet. You’re cautious driving through town, peeking into the theater, greeting people as you walk into Harry’s apartment.

It only takes a look to agree on where to go first after dropping everything off in the apartment, and you’re at the hospital in no time with a huge bag of souvenirs. You’re both greeted with huge smiles and hugs all the way to Aurora’s room.

Aurora’s asleep when you walk in, and Harry gives you a bit of a nervous look before approaching and kneeling down beside her to gently place a kiss on her forehead. She wakes up slowly, blinking blearily before processing Harry in front of her and gasping and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Harry!” she squeals, hugging him tightly. With wide eyes, she looks up, then exclaims your name and you walk over to give her a hug of your own. “You’re back!” she says happily, glancing between the two of you excitedly.

“We sure are,” you tell her.

Harry nods. “We missed you, princess.”

“Missed you too,” Aurora replies.

You clear your throat and bring the small present from behind your back. “We have something for you,” you tell her, handing the little white bag to you. Aurora laughs delightedly, clapping her hands and crinkling the tissue paper inside before pulling out the gift.

“Oh…” she breathes. “Pascal!”

It’s not exactly Pascal, Rapunzel’s pet in Tangled, but it’s a little stuffed toy of a chameleon you found with Harry in some gift shop in Brazil and you figured Aurora would like him. “Told you I’d bring you a Pascal one of these days,” you say with a wink.

“I, of course,” Harry begins with a dramatic sigh, “am completely against this gift.”

Aurora breaks out in giggles.

“... So I had to get you something else,” Harry finishes. He hands her his own gift, a sparkly pink bag with two things inside. Aurora is enthralled with the delicate tiara, and Harry makes a whole production of crowning her princess of all of New York.

The second gift is a small snow globe, but glitter rains down on a beautiful beach scene rather than snow when Aurora flips it upside down, eyes wide with wonder. “I love it,” she says, voice a little quiet in awe.

“We won’t have to leave again,” Harry promises softly.

Aurora looks up, lowering the globe to her lap. “Please don’t,” she says.

Harry smiles a little, then squeezes her hand and stands up, sliding The Trumpet of the Swan off its spot on the table. “Hope you didn’t read any without us,” he sighs, settling down in his spot on the sofa.

Happily, you curl up next to him, just as pleased as Aurora to be continuing the story.

***

Back at the apartment the next day to finalize some paperwork, your phone begins to ring. It’s an unknown number. Glancing at Harry nervously, you pick it up and wander over to the window as the voice on the other end begins to talk.

Your heart drops as you realize what’s happening. It’s someone from another company, asking you to audition for a play they’re starting to work on. Apparently, someone had seen your performance in Fatigue and thought you were wonderful. They couldn’t believe you were working with such a shit producer, they said, and would you like to join their company?

“Yes!” you say immediately, a little too excitedly. “I mean - yes. Please. Thank you.”

They give you the details, and with a still racing heart, you turn around and see Harry, working on some papers at his desk, looking very confused. Your eyes widen. “Oh my God,” you say, realizing what you’d just done.

“You alright, love?” he asks, sounding a bit amused.

You clear your throat. “Um, I just agreed to audition for another play?”

His brows jump, and he comes around his desk to wrap you in a hug. “Bloody hell!” he laughs. “Congratulations! That’s great - did they say when auditions are? Is it close by? What theater?”

You sputter a laugh, surprised at his reaction, and start, “Well, I… I mean… Are you okay with this? Did you want me to stick with you?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You’re too good for me. My producing days are over.”

“Really?” you ask, startled.

He leans against the desk, shrugging slightly. “Well… yeah. I mean, my record hardly suggests greatness, you know? I’ll find something else.” He grins, wiggling his brows, and adds, “Maybe I’ll go into writing. I certainly know what to avoid.”

“That would be great!” you exclaim. “Harry Styles, writer-producer extraordinaire!”

“Damn right,” Harry tells you, and he kisses you. You lean into him, hand sliding into his hair, and he whispers, “This desk hasn’t been broken in yet.” You snicker, about to reply, when your hand grazes a stack of papers and you sigh, pulling away. Harry whines, puckering his lips and smooching at you.

“We have paperwork to do,” you tell him.

He pouts. “You’re no fun.”

“After,” you say, giving him one last kiss.

“Maybe we can multitask,” Harry muses, turning around anyway and starting to shuffle some papers. “It takes you about a million years to finish a document when I’m not distracting you,” you reply, stealing a pen from his cup.

“Reckon I just need practice,” he says as you collapse on the sofa. You sigh, smiling despite yourself as you click your pen, shuffle some papers, and get to work. “Sure, Styles,” you say.

***

Two nights later, you’re sitting on the floor in the hallway of the hospital.

Beside you, the vending machine hums lowly. It harmonizes with the fluorescent lights buzzing on the ceiling, which are so bright they make your head hurt even when you close your eyes. Every few minutes, the lights flicker just slightly. Just enough for you to notice.

Harry dusts his hands off, reaching up to toss his candy wrapper into the trashcan. Like yours, his legs are stretched out in front of him. His hands are folded in his lap, head rested against the wall behind him.

He nudges your toe with his foot, shifting to look at you. He looks tired. When you meet his eyes, he starts to smile, lips curving slowly until he’s full on grinning, dimpling at you and laughing just a little.

“What?” you ask, unable to stop yourself from laughing just a little too.

He shrugs. “Dunno.”

You hold up the wrapper from the candy bar you just ate, peering at it, and tell him, “I wonder if it’s possible to get a sugar rush at one in the morning.” Harry takes it from you and pushes it into the trashcan.

“If you eat the entire vending machine,” he says, “probably.”

“I’m tired,” you whisper.

“What happened to the sugar rush?”

You take his hand, a bit delirious, and flip it palm up in your lap. “You’re gonna have a long life,” you say softly, tracing a random line on his skin. You start at his wrist, and follow a few lines up to one of his rings. “And be very stylish,” you continue, spinning a ring around.

“Why, thank you,” Harry says.

You smile at him. “You’re welcome.”

Harry touches the bottom of your chin with his finger, gently pushing up, and press his lips to yours. You relax at his touch, eyelids fluttering shut as his hand slides to hold your cheek, supporting you, grounding you, giving you butterflies.

Aurora’s sleeping in her room. Harry finished reading The Trumpet of the Swan just before she fell asleep. Earlier, while she went through tests and played, you and Harry filled out the proper forms for the procedure she’d need in a few months. It won’t be an easy ride, but she’ll be alright. And sitting on the floor, head rested on Harry’s shoulder and hand entwined with his, you get the feeling you just might be alright, too.

~*~ and there she is!!! all done!!! i'm gonna admit this chapter took SO LONG - i'm pretty sure i finished the first two chapters in like less than a month and this one took me. five months. BUT i got it done and i hit my word goal and i'm super proud of myself! honestly i'm just glad i got it out lmao. but i do hope someone out there enjoyed it, and if u did, a reblog and some feedback would be absolutely splendid <3

thank you for reading!!!!

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#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #🧇

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