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astudyinfreewill · 4 years ago

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look what you made me do || 1/?

aka: me making taylor swift songs about dean winchester and/or deancas bc it’s what dean himself would want

(i will be keeping track of these with a masterpost, just in case i need to find them again or someone enjoys seeing me go hogwild on lyric analysis, lol. also, there’s a wee treat at the end of the post!)

and without further ado, our first tswift x dean song is...

the archer

combat, i'm ready for combat i say i don't want that, but what if i do?

we start off with an extremely obvious line: dean winchester is always ready for combat - he’s been trained all his life to essentially be a soldier/vigilante figure, an ultimate warrior of sorts. the thing is... he doesn’t want to. when dean is left to his own devices, without his father to order him around or a Big Bad to spur him on, what he chooses to do is is cook for his loved ones, have movie nights with them, play music, tinker with parts to build something new. at his core dean is kind, and full of care for others, and his deepest fear is that he truly IS nothing more than just a killer or a weapon - hence the ‘but what if i do’.

'cause cruelty wins in the movies i've got a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you

‘the movies’ here is just shorthand for everything he’s witnessed happening around him in real life. as far as dean’s experience goes, cruelty does win. why believe in softness and kindness when your father has taught you that either of those things is a weakness, and the world simply doesn’t care?

as for the second line, well. you can guess what THAT’s about. dean feels so deeply, but really struggles to verbalise his feelings, often brushing them off until he explodes. we usually see him at his most vulnerable while praying to cas, but even then, you get the sense that he’s holding back on so much. (“cas, i need to say something--” “you don’t need to say it, dean.” so it goes, so it goes.)

easy they come, easy they go i jump from the train, i ride off alone i never grew up, it's getting so old help me hold onto you

a few points here: “i jump from the train” could easily be a callback to dean’s impulsive self-sacrificing ways, and “i never grew up” underlines how he never got the chance to evolve and grow into himself because he got essentially stuck in the “child parenting another child” role. sure, he had to be a mother and a father to sam, so in some ways he grew up really fast; in others, he was stuck as an insecure teenager, because he never got the opportunity for healthy emotional growth himself.

and of course, “easy they come, easy they go” is a tragically accurate representation of dean’s most devastating insecurity: that everyone he loves eventually leaves him. mary died, john was constantly absent, cassie broke up with him when he tried to tell her the truth, sam left him behind for college, and then, of course, there’s cas... who just. keeps. leaving, one way or another, and dean just desperately wants him to stay - which also ties into “help me hold on to you”. the irony of it all, of course, is that dean wants castiel to choose not to leave, whereas castiel desperately wants to be asked to stay; and ain’t that just a fucking tragedy.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey who could ever leave me, darling? (but who could stay?)

the first line is pretty self-explanatory: dean has been both aggressor and victim, both literally and emotionally. he’s a fearsome hunter who gets hunted down by monsters in turn; and he’s lashed out and pushed people away, while getting his heart broken in return too.

but it’s the second part that really strikes me as a dean line, because the first half - “who could ever leave me, darling?” - is the bravado that dean wears like a mask. charming smile, a flirty wink, swagger in like you own the place, “i think i’m adorable”, “i’m a joy to be around”, etc. but the second part... that’s the whisper of truth behind it. for all that dean can turn the charm on and put on a brave face, he’s thoroughly convinced that he’s not worth sticking around for.

dark side, i search for your dark side but what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?

so, can you say trust issues? remember how long it took for dean to believe an angel could be on his side, and then how deeply he came to trust cas? and remember how heartbroken he was when castiel betrayed them in s6, and how that heartbreak was covered up with anger when cas came back? yet, no matter how many twists and turns they go through, inevitably, dean ends up trusting cas with his life - he’s not only the definition of a ride-or-die, but he also trusts him in smaller, more intimate ways, such as letting down his guard and allowing himself to be vulnerable only around him, or praying to him for comfort as much as guidance.

and i cut off my nose just to spite my face then hate my reflection for years and years

...but because of those trust issues, and because of dean’s deeply entrenched abandonment issues as mentioned above, often dean ends up reacting to things more harshly than is needed, by lashing out in anger and pushing people away (or, in more than one occasion, through the infamous silent treatment). but we also know he immediately regrets it, because it ends up hurting him just as much, if not more. basically this correlates to his speech from 15x09 about his anger issues.

i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost the room is on fire, invisible smoke and all of my heroes died all alone help me hold onto you

there’s also the fact that having attachments as a hunter isn’t exactly safe, and comes with a shitton of fear of losing people - or remorse and regret when you do lose them. “the room is on fire, invisible smoke” - i can only imagine dean would still have nightmares of that fateful night when he was 4 years old and his mother burned alive on a ceiling (and so: “i wake in the night, i pace like a ghost). as for his heroes dying alone... mary. john. ellen. jo. ash. kevin. charlie. the list stretches way too long. it’s only natural he’d be afraid of losing cas too... especially since he’s already died multiple times, and dean has mourned him more and more devastatingly each time.

i've been the archer, i've been the prey screaming “who could ever leave me, darling”-- but who could stay?

the same concept as the previous chorus, except that here the façade of confidence and swagger comes off almost as desperate (screaming “who could ever leave me”). but then we know overcompensating is kinda dean’s thing.

'cause they see right through me, they see right through me they see right through me -- can you see right through me? they see right through me, they see right through me i see right through me, i see right through me

and we circle back to dean’s constant fear of being found worthless, damaged, and unlovable. no matter how much bravado he puts on, his actual self-worth is close to non-existent, so of course he’d feel like a fraud, and it makes sense he’d fear other people seeing through his act, or wonder if they do - can cas see right through him? because dean himself certainly isn’t buying his own lies.

all the king's horses, all the king's men couldn't put me together again 'cause all of my enemies started out friends help me hold onto you

the first line just... hurts me a lot. i guess it’s the nursery rhyme sound of it, almost trying to take the bite of a statement which is, essentially: i’m broken beyond repair. as i said above, dean’s not buying his own lies, he knows exactly how much baggage and trauma he carries. and not to go back to the trust issues again, but it is hard to believe someone could see past that when there’s so much betrayal in your history (which, yes, has included cas at one point too, as well as sam, or, say, fucking chuck).

i've been the archer, i've been the prey who could ever leave me, darling? (but who could stay?) who could stay? who could stay? you could stay, you could stay...

and then... we have the third repeat of the chorus, which echoes the first, softer version of it, but with a fundamental difference. this time, the rhetorical question “who could stay?” finds a pointed answer in “you could stay”. because yes, maybe cas leaves a lot, but he always, always comes back. so i’d imagine dean harbours hope that one day, maybe, cas will want to actually... stay for good.

combat, i'm ready for combat

and that hope kinda gives this final line a whole new lovely layer of meaning: dean’s no longer ready for combat just because he’s been trained for combat all his life; rather, he’s ready for combat because for once in his life, he has something to look forward to; something to fight for: the happy ending he deserves, where someone - perhaps someone in a dirty trenchcoat and tired blue eyes - will finally stay.

---

BONUS: literally the day after i started obsessing over this song as a dean song, i found a fanvid of it! if that’s not serendipitous, i don’t know what is <3

#spn #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #taylor swift #meta #mp #long post for ts #uuh how else to tag this #tswift x dean winchester #??? that sounds like a ship #anyway. i know there's been some interest in this so hopefully it doesn't disappoint #and if you wanna be tagged in these/suggest songs lmk!!!#lwymmd

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laora-inn · 4 years ago

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Supernatural - Destiel in 11x13, or Why this episode shouldn’t be “fixed”

Looks like Billie in the last trailer is a villain, ha? ;) Remember that in 11x02 she said Sam that she will toss any Winchester who’ll die into the Empty? Wonder if she already had a deal with the Empty that time.

Back to Destiel moments in the show which, in my point of view, are underrated by fans. Let’s talk about some episodes in 11th season, shouldn’t we?

I’ve noticed that Destiel-shippers mostly don’t like the episode 11x13, you know, the one with Quareen, who looks like Amara to Dean. Though there are some explanations of this situation from Destiel shippers’ point of view. For example, @charlie-minion, a great meta-writer, whose works I’m absolutely fond of, wrote here:

In case there were still people thinking that Dean and Amara were a good thing, real love, the show gave us an episode about “darkest desires”. The spell that Melissa was given was never about LOVE; it was about something perceived as lustful, codependent, obsessive and selfish (as we learned from Staci, Dan, and Melissa). People expecting the Qareen to take Cas’ form when facing Dean missed the whole point.

I am mostly agree with that, but this episode seems much more complex to me.

Because, you know, Dan, Stacy and Melissa look kinda familiar.

Two of them (Dan and Melissa) are in an established relationship. They even have a baby. Then the third one comes, a strong and possessive one (Stacy). She kissed Dan right after Melissa, in front of the nan cam, just to prove her right on him.

Melissa knows about danger which Stacy represents. Melissa truly loves Dan and wants him back, but chooses the wrong way to return his love. This is how we meet the witch of the week, Sonja, whose plan is not to help Melissa, but to kill ALL OF THEM - Dan, Melissa, Stacy. Looks like this witch just hates the whole world, especially people who love each other. She tries to twist their good feelings and for that uses Quareen, a creature, who takes form of their beloved ones.

I’m not saying that the parallel is absolute, but just think of it: Dean and Cas relationship, both of them EQUALS and caring for Sam, whom Dean is like a parent to. Then Amara comes. She kisses Dean to prove her right on him in 11x09 - after he saved Cas from Rowena’s curse in 11x03 and told about “not marriage, but something” with Sam in 11x04. Cas knows Amara is dangerous, he’s faced her. He also feels unloved and expendable - this message he’s got not only from Amara, but from her also. So, for the sake of being useful, especially for Dean, Cas says “yes” to Lucifer in 11x10. Lucifer, of course, promises to defeat Amara, to save the world (and Dean), although his plan is obviously not to help Cas and Dean with Amara, but to kill all of them. He just hates the whole world, especially people who love each other. Dean and Cas, for instance. He tries to twist their good feelings and for that - oh, guess what? - possesses one of them and looks exactly like him!

So, this episode is not only about Quareen Amara, but also about Lucifer and Destiel situation in the whole 11th season.

Note, that Lucifer in 11x11 doesn’t avoid Dean or reveals himself. He acts like Cas, talks to Dean, listens to him, follows him, even touches him! But he does it in a such way, that makes Dean vulnerable and almost gets him dead. Right after their meeting banshee sees Dean as her victim. And she only hunts for the vulnerable ones.

Quareen kills the victims by seducing them and ripping their hearts out. Lucifer in Cas’s vessel is obviously trying to seduce Dean, though really doesn’t care about Dean or his unwanted attraction to Amara, is going to use him as a bait, and all this crap seems to metaphorically rip the heart out of Dean. So banshee decides: oh, someone is vulnerable here. Just the way the man, who had a quarrel with his beloved wife - he was killed by banshee before.

I think 11x11 was the turning point for Dean. Not only because of confession to Casifer about Amara and his not-caring response, which made Dean vulnerable, but also because of Mildred’s words. She said that Dean is pining for someone and advised him to follow his heart. And after that he had a sleepless night. He is stuck between Amara, who scares him and basically wants him dead as a personality (she wants to devour him, but also doesn’t want it to be a non-consensual act - he is an exception for her), and Cas, whom Dean truly loves, by whom he isn’t loved back. As far as he knows.

Relationship with Cas was always painful and complex - like the life itself. Amara’s wish is to give Dean peace, to free him from all the pain, to give him “sheer bliss” - in death. She is like Cas in 4x22, who also wanted peace for Dean and saw that peace in Apocalypse.

Dean didn’t want to die back then, and his point made Cas fall. Dean doesn’t want to die now. He confessed that in 10x16, where also said, that he wanted to experience certain feelings in a different way. He was pining for someone since then - and even earlier. Of course, Dean isn’t pining for Amara.

He is pining for Cas. And it matters a lot now, when Amara is here. It’s no coincidence that Dean told about his feeling towards Amara to Cas first. Dean wanted help from the person he truly loves. Because true love can beat any evil - we know that from fairy-tales. And in case we forgot, the show Stacy was watching before her heart was ripped out reminded us (quoted from the @charlie-minion post mentioned above):

Devil: True love, all right?

Man #1: Is he gone? Like, gone, gone?

Man #2: True love can get us out of here?

Devil: Yeah.

Man #3: Yeah, I’ve been in love a million times.

My point is these lines refer to Dean and his feeling to Amara. He can be saved from this unhealthy and unwanted dependence only by true love, not by some hook-ups with strangers. He literally had dozens of them by that time, gosh, he had one right before 11x13, and that obviously couldn’t help him.

But Cas is gone, played by the Devil himself. So Dean’s confession about Amara to Casifer didn’t work, and Dean ended up with a heartbreak.

That was result of Cas’s wrong choice.

The same as Melissa from 11x13 (who is called just “Mel” by Dan, Dean’s obvious parallel, by the way), Cas trusted the wrong person.

I totally agree that relationships between Melissa, Dan and Stacy are unhealthy. They are WORSE than the relationships between Cas, Dean and Amara. At least, Dean didn’t lie to Cas, he told about Amara. And not for the single moment he wants to “break up” with Cas.

We also have a bunch of “supernatural” and metaphorical excuses for each of Dean, Cas and even Amara. ‘Cause, you know, Amara isn’t evil - just like Stacy. The real evil is Lucifer - the wicked witch of 11th season. That’s why in 11x23, after the moment Amara kicked Lucifer out of Cas and Dean had him back, he succeed to save the world, to survive and finally met his mother, the person who taught him love. When Lucifer is out, there is no problem for Dean to follow his heart :)

Still, the parallel between Melissa-Dan-Stacy and Cas-Dean-Amara remains. And it’s very clear imao. In the end, I doubt that Dan could leave Melissa either.

This episode also has parallel with Cas and Lucifer interaction. Melissa understood her mistake about dealing with the witch and tries to fix it. In some way she succeeded - she helped Sam.

Cas will show up and try to fix his Lucifer mistake in the next episode, 11x14. He will also help Sam to get out from the situation, created by Lucifer.

If it’s not a parallel to the plot of the WHOLE SEASON, I don’t know, what is it.

And this parallel makes absolutely no sense without unplatonic Destiel perception.

So, 11x13 is an important episode - from Destiel-oriented point of view.

And now let’s talk about two moments in the episode, which, I’m sure, are the main reasons DeanCas shippers don’t like it and don’t analyze it much (maybe I just couldn’t find all the meta, but still).

1) Episode 11x13 starts with Dean, who can hardly walk and has a hickey on his neck. It’s the day after Valentine’s Day, and Dean hooked up with some single lady again. And he is planning to go on.

Well, here we see that Dean isn’t so happy about his “romantic” adventures. He doesn’t feel good, spits the fast-food taken from the fridge (maybe it’s not fresh, like his appearance at all), needs a shower and isn’t interested in a case. He says that on Valentine’s Day you don’t have “to be Mr. Right, just be Mr. Right Now” - and that’s the point. He isn’t Mr. Right himself, he doesn’t have his Mr. Right (true love) with him and probably will not ever have. The truth is he is no different than all the single ladies (and gentlemen) and isn’t happy about it.

We see, that Dean is tired of senseless hook-ups. After them he isn’t fond of himself and stinking.

Later he says he’d go on, and that sounds like thing he has to do, but really doesn’t want. That’s why when he isn’t “lucky”, he also isn’t upset.

For me this scene is rather approving Destiel than vice versa.

2) Quareen looks like Amara to Dean.

Here is the point where I want to comment the statement “People expecting the Qareen to take Cas’ form when facing Dean missed the whole point”.

Sure, Quareen is a dark creature who kills people by ripping their hearts out, and for show it was safer to compare Quareen with Amara. Actually both of them mean death to Dean. Besides, we had two Destiel fights, in 10x22 and 11x03. Cas even had a PTSD after. If Quareen was in Cas’s form, we’d have one more Destiel fight in 11x13, and that’d be catastrophic. They just didn’t want to make Destiel look more unhealthy than it already was.

But the statement “Quareen takes the form of the victim’s deepest darkest desire“ doesn’t necessary mean that it should be someone whom the victim was obsessed with (in the worst sense of this word). Sam said Melissa truly loved Dan, and I believe that. Dan and Stacy could be obsessed by each other, but Melissa? I doubt. She is portrayed as basically innocent person who just made a huge mistake.

More important, Quareen said to Dean:

Amara: I understand, Dean.

Dean: Is that right?

Amara: The longing in your heart, I feel it too.

Dean: (inching towards the knife) Well that’s touching. Consider that you don’t have a heart. Qareen.

Amara: Who I am doesn’t matter. The real question is who are you?

Dean: What do you mean who am I?

Amara: You’re a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel. Except it’s cloaked in shame. When it comes to this (touches her body), you can’t help yourself, so why fight it? Just give in.

Quareen told about LOVE. About longing, which is a synonym to “pining” and was used in 10th season to describe a state when somebody is praying to Cas. Cas told to Claire he can feel longing of another person.

So, Quareen feels longing too. And love. That means this creature can take form of a person, who victim truly loves. But, I think, in Dean’s case it’s not obvious, that’s why Quareen talks about mystery and shame, and doesn’t say that Amara is true love here (just someone Dean can’t help himself with). It’s not strange: Dean certainly knows towards whom he feels love, but doesn’t want someone else knows. In fact he tries to forget himself, because is sure that his feelings aren’t mutual.

I think that’s why Dean told to Sam:

Dean: You know the silver lining about being cursed? I’ll finally get some face time with Daisy Duke. My deepest darkest desire.

Sam: Seriously?

Dean: Ever since I was seven.

Sam: So Bach, not Simpson.

Dean: Eh. Guess I wouldn’t say no to either.

From the start Dean didn’t know what this curse was about. Now he is aware and LYING. Daisy Duke isn’t his deepest darkest desire, he doesn’t care for her more than for any other option Sam can offer. He says it himself. Why is he lying?

I’m sure Dean here thought about Cas and didn’t expect to see Amara AT ALL.

Quareen’s point wasn’t to go deep, to understand complex love, cloaked with shame. To Quareen a victim, who can’t help themselves, would be enough. So in Dean’s case Quareen‘s form is far aside from love. It’s the first obvious form, which has a strong influence, and that influence is really bad. Far from love.

So yes, people expecting the Qareen to take Cas’ form IN THIS SITUATION missed the whole point. But simultaneously Dean was such a person HIMSELF, and it could actually work.

I think Dean was expecting to see Cas also because of this conversation:

Dean: Honestly? You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest darkest desire?

Sam: She isn’t?

Dean: No! She can’t be!

Sam: Why not?

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah.

Dean is already confessed to Casifer he and Amara has some kind of connection. Gosh, he even confessed that to Sam - it wasn’t easy, because Dean IS AFRAID of Amara. He isn’t in denial of the fact of their connection. He just doesn’t like its definition, and I am totally agree with his further line: “Something happens and I can’t explain it, but to call it desire or love…it’s not that”.

Within this conversation Dean hasn’t finished the line: “Because if she is that means that I’m...” Sam interrupted him with “Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?“, Dean said “For starters, yeah”. I think, he wanted to say something else. For example, “that means that I’m not in love with Cas. And I love him”. Whatever it would be, I consider Cas would be involved, in Dean’s mind for sure - ‘cause Dean probably couldn’t say something about his Cas-related feelings to Sam.

Anyway, I think there was a reason for Dean to be so sure that “No! She can’t be!”. It’s not fear or denial. He adjusts that something is happening, and I think he understands what love and desire are. This “something” isn’t them.

The chain of events with Quareen is the next: Dean is uncomfortable with his true “darkest desire”, he talks to Sam about the first girl he can remember, a fictional character, by the way, then sees fake Amara, who hasn’t expected to see, she talks to him about his mysterious love, covered in shame and definitely more complex than his feeling for real Amara is, then Sam stabs Quareen’s heart and Dean is like “it couldn’t be Amara, very strange, I love someone else”.

So, if it’s not Amara (accurate) and not random girls to talk with Sam about (accurate), then who the hell it is?!

I think we all know the answer.

From the point of story, to Destiel shippers Quareen looking like Amara is not bad at all. I think this episode is supposed to be a gift for us shippers, but then our own heteronormativity stood on the way and made it hard to see the whole picture.

From the very beginning this episode was full of Destiel: numerous text and plot parallels, which make ABSOLUTELY no sense without implying DeanCas as one of the main points of season 11; Dean tired of senseless hook-ups and unhappy about Valentine’s Day, ‘cause his heart is broken; Dean who wants to hide his true darkest desire from Sam by saying some crap about fictional girls; Quareen‘s words about Dean’s mysterious love, longing, and shame; Dean’s own disagreement with his “love” or “desire” to Amara whom he didn’t suppose to see; his unfinished phrase to Sam.

So no way 11x13 should be “fixed” with adding more Destiel of changing Amara to Cas. It makes no sense.

I wonder how this heavy Destiel content ended up with “Dean loves Amara” perception. The content wasn’t so subtle, you know.

Just how strong our heteronormativity could be?

And how the hell despite of that we manage to get almost canon Destiel relationship? In fact, they are more canon, then any other romance in this story.

______________________ To conclude, I have some difficulties with the tumblr usage for now, but I'd like to communicate with the co-shippers.

So, if you want to hear my opinion about or to point out any Destiel moment in the show, feel free to write to my ask. I’ll try to answer ASAP - we all are in the same boat now, so it’s important to support each other and to share our thoughts. Some kind of therapy, I’d say :)

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bluerosesburnblue · 4 years ago

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It’s just now occurring to me that Seren/Talbott makes significantly more sense if you know how I’ve re-written several sidequests to better fit Seren’s personality, which I keep forgetting is not how canon went because half of these quests came out way too long ago and I’m far too attached to my rewrites

The only things that Talbott knows about Seren in Year 1 are that when she was announced for their sorting ceremony a LOT of people started whispering (about Jacob, the Dwyn Family getting kicked off of the Sacred Purebloods list, etc.) and that she sits in front of him during Transfigurations. Once he hears about what Jacob did, his curiosity is settled and he doesn’t think about her at all

I’m putting the Hagrid’s Birthday timed quest to Year 2, after you help Hagrid save Fang. That would make sense of the fact that Fang has a name and Merula’s dialogue about Dumbledore giving MC 100 House Points. And Hagrid’s birthday is December 6, so… that’s when the quest happens! December 6, 1985. (Probably starts a few days earlier, like the 3rd or 4th to account for party planning time)

This is relevant because of the moment where MC is keeping watch of Fang while Merula and Ismelda are teasing Talbott in the background by levitating his clothes and flinging him around. In the canon version of that quest, a Niffler (possibly Sickleworth since the quest came out after he was introduced?) chases them off. But, since I’m putting it in Year 2 before Rakepick is at Hogwarts there’s no reason for that Niffler (assuming it is Sickleworth) to be there

In my rewritten version it’s Seren who goes over and chases them off, because she’s not oblivious and even in Year 2, when she’s still super shy, she’s not just gonna let Merula pull something like this. It’s one of those rare moments in the early years where you can catch a glimpse of who Seren’s going to become, where she gets very assertive and fearless. It’s only because she’s defending someone else at this time, it’ll start to become her default state in later years

Of course, she’s still extremely shy and awkward and so is Talbott, so when she asks him if he’s okay he just... freezes and doesn’t say anything. And Seren doesn’t know what to do so after, like, 30 seconds of silence and just staring at each other she just kinda nervously screeches “OKAY, GREAT,” and jogs off with Fang

This is the moment that Talbott starts taking real notice of Seren. He hasn’t had anyone stick up for him like that. He remembers her sorting, now he’s trying to put together a profile of her. Figure out what she’s all about. He’s so curious, she seems so similar to him sometimes, but then she gets these bursts of confidence. Part of him wants to drop it, he figures it doesn’t matter. But then Penny (who is both Seren’s friend and her roommate) starts tutoring him in Potions and she’s telling him all these stories and he’s just getting even more invested in figuring out “what’s the deal with Seren Dwyn?”

Seren doesn’t remember the incident at all. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever chased Merula off from bullying someone, and her mind was preoccupied with party planning so she just never thought about it again. She won’t remember it even happened unless Talbott brings it up, and her response is just going to be “Wait. That was you? WAIT-”

After that moment in Year 2, they don’t interact again until Year 5. Talbott has been keeping an eye on her out of sheer curiosity for years and Seren hasn’t thought about him at all

So, that brings us to the Animagus quest, which I changed a lot. Not that there was necessarily anything wrong with it, but it was the first Timed Sidequest and was teased for long enough that I’d... kind of already plotted out how I wanted most of it to go by the time it did. Also, a good chunk of it didn’t fit with Seren’s character at all

So, first of all, third year? For one of the most difficult pieces of Transfiguration magic? Uagadou school teaches it to 14-year-olds, so it’s possible, but they’re teaching it professionally and MC is flailing about with just Talbott and Penny figuring it out in the canon quest, so I’m gonna give that year a no. Also, it makes more sense for this to occur after the second Rita quest, otherwise why would Dumbledore have to explain Animagi and the registry if MC’s already an Animagus? Personally, I’m placing the start of it in late November of fifth year (1988 – maybe January 1989)

I’m also not a fan of the fact that we’re doing this just because Penny wants to brew a tough potion. Personally, I don’t see Seren and Penny as that close. They’re friends, but I generally play it more like Penny’s more invested in their friendship than Seren is. Not to mention it completely kills any sense of agency MC has, and I’m really not a fan of all of their friends trying to force a potentially dangerous, potentially illegal life choice on them for reasons such as “I want to brew a tough potion!” and “It would be cool!” If Penny or Seren messed up even a little she could end up as a half-human-half-animal amalgamation permanently! Think of Hermione’s Polyjuice Potion mishap from Chamber of Secrets but for the rest of your life. Seren would make a life-changing, potentially dangerous decision like this for Jacob’s sake only. So the rewritten motivation is looking for any edge on the search because she’s getting frustrated that it’s been five+ years since he’s disappeared and she still can’t find him, but she has found notes suggesting that he was an unregistered Animagus (such as the potion recipe being in his room)

She’s partially trying to figure out what Jacob’s Animagus form is. If it’s informed by your personality and everyone tells her she’s “just like her brother”… then maybe her form would be close enough that she could figure out what his is (or, in a lucky break, exactly the same as his)

She gets the idea after the second Rita quest, and spends the end of Year 4/beginning of Year 5 studying up on the Animagus process and looking for any opportunity to make it work

And, because Year 5 is the year she’s stuck in detention and thus, under intense scrutiny from the faculty, it opens up opportunities to sneak out for the Vault search if she needs to so she sees little downside in trying

Seren would not be open about doing this. So cut out pretty much any friends being told about it or getting directly involved. This is a Secret Seren Project, which is pretty typical of her, actually

She’s also not gonna have Penny just brew the whole dang potion. In fact, she’s not gonna involve Penny at all. (Seren’s capable of doing things on her own, game. She doesn’t need Penny to stand next to her and tell her what to do every time she tries to brew a potion). Because she has no intention of registering (it would defeat the point of using it to sneak around), she doesn’t want anyone involved because then they become accomplices. Also, Seren just likes doing things for herself. I think she’s a little offended every time Penny refuses to let her brew potions for the Vaults

Also, no McGonagall involvement! She’s not planning on registering. Why would you tell a teacher you’re gonna commit a crime?

The only time Professor McGonagall gets involved is Seren asking theoretical questions about the Animagus process under the guise of both OWL studying and because Seren’s just known to ask questions about theoretical magic (“Do potential Animagi keep the leaf in their mouth to absorb saliva from all parts of a biological lunar cycle, or is it more a demonstration of perseverance to focus the soul?”)

So the actual meat of the quest starts pretty much the same. Tulip and Barnaby bring up Talbott at lunch one day and Tulip mentions that he seems to know a lot about Animagi. Seren shows mild interest, but not much beyond that (“What? Seems like a lot of work for not much help, to be honest.”) Secretly, she’s ecstatic because she’s finally got a chance at making an Animagus transformation work beyond what she’s read about it (the potion she could do on her own, but he might be able to show her the spell and probably won’t turn her in to the wizard cops)

She asks Talbott about it at dinner when all of her friends are gone and she’s pretty sure nobody’s around to hear it. Talbott still overheard them, and still references it, but it’s more of an “I heard what you were discussing at lunch” thing. She asks him what he knows, they do their little back-and-forth. Then he brings up that she’s got a reputation for helping people with occasionally sketchy things with no questions asked (*cough*CHARLIE AND THE DRAGON EGG*cough*) and she’s pretty forthcoming about it (“Just keep in mind that I’m both a Prefect and in eternal detention, so request wisely.”)

Secretly, Talbott is very excited. Seren contacted him first and finally gave him an excuse to follow her around and finally get those answers about what her deal is that he’s been craving for years. He’s not even thinking about her as a possible friend or anything, he just wants to figure out what makes her just... act for the sake of others, completely without thinking about damage to herself, and with such wild conviction that every year she seems to outdo herself in wild success with tasks that should be way above the average student’s skill. Part of it reminds him of his parents, but he’s also just found her so interesting from afar (made even worse when Seren goes through her drastic change in presentation at the start of Year 4 and starts acting like she did when she chased Merula off all the time). She’s like the world’s most intricate puzzle

In this rewrite, Talbott is still looking for potion ingredients for Penny, but they’re not for an Animagus potion. They’re for the Draught of Peace that she’s making to help out Madam Pomfrey because she’s being overwhelmed with kids coming in overly stressed about OWLs and NEWTs, and Penny knows what it feels like to be so stressed that you feel you need the potion (but she also respected Seren’s advice to not take it to deal with the Beatrice situation, at least not without Madam Pomfrey’s supervision). It ends up being a “you scratch my back, I scratch yours” between Talbott and Seren. Help me break into Filch’s office to get confiscated potions supplies because Professor Snape won’t let Penny borrow enough to make all of the Draught of Peace that she wants to, and I’ll teach you what I know about being an Animagus. Talbott has them pick up the materials for the Animagus potion while they’re collecting stuff for Penny. He’s tempted to ask Seren about herself, but just ends up staying silent and watching how she handles getting the ingredients

Seren is way less pushy about being Talbott’s friend than MC is in the quest. She still teases him about his use of “we” but it’s more of a partners-in-crime jab. Like, it’s Seren. She can relate to everyone thinking you’re a weirdo. She can relate to wanting to go solo and avoid people. She’s not even sure how she has friends, they just sort of happened. So when Talbott says “I fly solo,” Seren doesn’t tell him “everyone needs friends,” she says “Understood. But I’m here to help if you ever need some.”

They deliver Penny’s stuff and she’s honestly surprised they’re hanging out. Talbott insists that Seren’s only there because he needed to get into Filch’s office, Penny buys it because this really isn’t the first time Seren’s helped someone without question. Heck, this isn’t the first time Seren’s done weird things to get potion ingredients for her. So Talbott gets to teaching Seren about the Animagus transformation (and supervises her. They’re not friends! But he doesn’t want her to get seriously injured doing this. This is the girl that stuck up for him years ago)

Because it’s Seren, she’s got the entire Animagus process planned down to the second. She’s scheduled her leaf-in-mouth thing to overlap with Christmas break, which she plans to spend in Hogwarts and won’t need to talk to anyone during (Wed. Nov 23 – Fri. Dec 23 1988, with Dec 23 – Sat. Jan 21 1989 as a backup date if she swallows the leaf. She’s praying for luck with the full moons). She’s got an old-fashioned windup alarm and an almanac to get the times for dawn and dusk right (and Christmas break means she’ll have the dorm room to herself, so she won’t wake up her roommates and give away what she’s doing). She’s even got some gum to secure the leaf to the roof of her mouth/under her tongue

Her plans get derailed HARD when Bill and Charlie decide to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas to keep her company because she stayed during fourth year to avoid going home to parents who were going to ignore her or yell at her, and who hadn’t had it in them to celebrate Christmas for years, when at least she gets decorations at Hogwarts (she told Charlie this, so naturally Bill knows). She’s forced to bring them in to what she’s doing (“But you can’t tell anyone! You’re accomplices to a crime now!”)

She actually really appreciates it. She tears up a little. But seriously, boys, this was not the best time to do that

They can’t help her keep track of doing the spell at dawn, but they can totally run shouting at her when dusk’s approaching. She ends up keeping the leaf in her mouth on the first try

Talbott also stayed over for Christmas because he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go

Heck, I could see Seren inviting him to sit with them for Christmas breakfast and the four of them just sharing a nice, happy moment for once. Seren gives out gifts. Charlie is DELIGHTED at the dragon sculpture that she enchanted to move around (and she’s delighted that it actually worked. She jumps up and cheers when it bursts out of the box like she planned). She even gives Talbott some cookies she baked (“Consider them a thank-you for all of your help with that project.”)

Also, Seren starts singing Christmas songs at breakfast and Professor Flitwick overhears. He IMMEDIATELY starts trying to get her to come back to the Frog Choir after she joined briefly in Year 4 and then quit at the end of the year. But, oh man, professor, she quit for a reason and now she’s a Prefect, too, and there’s just no TIME…

Gobstones with Talbott in the courtyard still happens, but this time it’s over winter break and there’s no one out there to hear him confess his backstory to her, and no one around to see him transform into an eagle and fly off. It’s a huge show of trust to Seren now, and not one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen bird boy do

Seren hides the Animagus potion at the top of one of the abandoned towers that she walks near during her Prefect patrols (probably the Lookout Tower due to the open area) and uses her patrol schedule to go hide it. Do Prefects even need to patrol during winter break? I mean, probably. There’s still kids there and likely a shortage of Prefects

Choses a thundersnow storm at some point during the break to complete the ritual. It is freezing, and very dramatic. Bill and Charlie are there just in case something goes horribly wrong

Seren transforms into a raven and it’s the happiest she’s been in a long freaking time. She perches on Bill’s arm, she perches on Charlie’s shoulder. She changes back and she’s laughing and crying and just so happy that it all worked so well and it’s like, a tangible thing. It’s physical proof that she’s getting skilled enough to get Jacob back. And it’s the best Christmas present she’s ever given herself

The three of them get caught by Professor McGonagall leaving the tower, but do a bit where they pretend that Seren heard something up there during a patrol and called them over to help her investigate it just in case, but it was just the wind knocking the loose door around. Bill does an excellent performance miming the door swinging back and forth while Charlie nods enthusiastically. It’s very convincing, I assure you. McGonagall does let them go, assuming they were just getting up to some Christmas fun

At some point a particular golden eagle hanging out in the Owlery gets his day rudely interrupted by a very loud and excitable raven. He can hear Seren giggle out a “thank you” when she leaves. He’d never admit it, but he found it charming. And then immediately tried to convince himself that he did not think that about her, because it’s dangerous to get attached (but it’s already begun to be too late for that)

(Side note, but Rowan eventually finds out by accident late Year 5. She stumbles into Seren transformed in their dorm, freaks out that there’s a bird in there, and Seren has to transform back and tell her everything to calm her down. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier!?” “I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO BE AN ACCOMPLICE!”)

After everything that happens in the quest, Talbott’s started developing a friend-crush on Seren. She’s quiet and respects his space, she’s pretty damn smart (he’s particularly impressed at how much she knew about the Animagus process without him telling her), and there’s something about how dedicated she is to whatever she decides to do that interests him

Seren kind of thought that at the end of the quest, she and Talbott already were friends. And she was really happy to have a friend with the same sense of humor as her, who she could have some really interesting discussions with. But...

After worrying that he’s starting to like her too much, Talbott kinda ignores Seren for a couple of months, which makes her upset but she doesn’t know how to bring it up with him. Then Flying Solo happens around the beginning of April. It’s 80% the same, minus MC being pushy about being Talbott’s friend. Other minor changes are:

When learning Obliviate from Flitwick, Seren insists that both of them do the spell as it’s only fair, and she catches on easily since she’s started Legilimency training by then which gives her an edge with mind-based spells

Instead of telling Talbott some big secret, Seren goes on a five minute rant about how much she hates potatoes (”You’ll never forget how much I hate them when I’m done!”). Talbott tells her that he’s wanted to talk to her since their second year when she saved him from Merula but he didn’t know how. This elicits the above “Wait, that was you?” response before he Obliviates her

Seren ends up being really shaky and mumbling a bit after Talbott Obliviates her, and he’s terrified that he messed something up before she gets herself coherent enough to say that she felt this exact sensation earlier in the year (Pettigrew Obliviating MC). This relates to my headcanon that as a Legilimens, Seren’s more sensitive to mental spells like Obliviate. Flitwick recalls the incident and assures Talbott that Seren will be fine, Seren thanks Talbott for finally proving to her that she was Obliviated that night

Talbott and Seren agree to tell each other what they Obliviated. Seren tells him about the potato rant at the fountain that night when they’re waiting for Merula to show up, and Merula shows up just before Talbott can tell Seren about when she helped him in Year 2. He never does tell her, Seren forgets that he was supposed to entirely (though I think he will when they’re adults)

The thing about Year 5 Seren is that she’s... uh... constantly about to snap at any given moment, so the idea of Merula finding out about not just her illegal Animagus status, but Talbott’s (which, funny enough, is even better blackmail material because Seren prioritizes others over herself) sets her off. Bad. When it comes time to Obliviate Merula, Seren just tells Talbott to follow her lead, he already did his part getting Merula there

Seren successfully Obliviates Merula and then, less than a second after, Depulsos her into the wall. Talbott is just... stunned and confused as Seren walks up to Merula ranting about how she can’t do anything without Merula following her, makes a show of reluctantly apologizing “but you really startled the shit out of me!” and drags her up by her sleeve

The goal was to overwhelm Merula so that she wouldn’t even have time to process what was happening or that she could have been Obliviated. It works. A very disoriented Merula asks what happened and Seren pointedly pulls a notebook from her bag and slams it into Talbott’s chest “I was trying to help Talbott catch up on our Tranfigurations work when you came up behind me shouting! If you need Rakepick so bad, she’s not here. Can’t even do something as simple as this without you getting involved, can I!?”

Merula leaves after questioning what Seren even has to do with Talbott anyway, which lets both of them know that the Obliviation worked. Talbott’s kind of confused about his feelings because that whole display was both very smart, but very aggressive and a little intimidating. When he asks her about why she even helped him at all she tells him that she “wasn’t about to let Merula put you in danger, especially since it was my fault anyway.” It really clicks for him in that moment that Seren will genuinely go to any length she needs to to protect others, and that what’s been driving her though the Vaults is her loyalty to Jacob, that unstoppable sense of determination, and this overwhelming feeling of responsibility for everyone’s safety. He’d always though she was clever enough to be a Ravenclaw, but now he sees that the core of her is Hufflepuff ideals taken to the extreme. There’s a new sense of respect there. And then the “oh no I’m getting attached” fears kick in again

He tries to give Seren her notebook back, she insists he keep it. It’s actually just a copy of her notes that she made using Geminio that she was planning on giving him anyway to help with the classes he missed. Talbott still insists that they’re not friends. Seren doesn’t fight it. After all, she just almost exposed his secret. Even if she set it right, she knew that the breach of trust alone was probably going to be the end of things. Besides, she’s been pushing away everyone all year. What’s... one more? Especially if he’s going to push himself away

She wasn’t planning to pursue it anymore until talking with Penny over lunch and realizing that even if she kept Talbott’s secret from getting out, something’s still bothering him. And dammit, even if he doesn’t want to be her friend no one else seems to care that something’s up with him and no one deserves to be just left to struggle alone the same way that she was when Jacob went missing. So she talks to McGonagall, finds out about the necklace, firmly informs Talbott that she’s going to find it, no, she’s not leaving, just tell me where you were you don’t even have to come with me, but I am finding that necklace

The necklace search goes the same as it does in canon

During their talk at night after finding the necklace, Talbott asks Seren why she was so determined to find his necklace out of nowhere. She pulls her locket that she keeps under her clothes off and holds it in her hands for a few moments before responding “Because if I couldn’t bear the thought of losing mine, I can’t imagine what you must’ve felt.” She opens it up and hold it out for Talbott to take

He’s the first person at Hogwarts to see the enchanted picture inside that locket. Two kids, one as young as three years old, posing in front of an ivy-covered wall. The little girl is holding a plush baby seal in front of the bottom half of her face. Her brother tries to get her to smile and accidentally knocks the plush out of her hands. She looks like she’s about to cry before he scrambles to pick the plush up and starts tickling her face with it, saying something that can’t be heard. The little girl starts giggling and her brother hugs her before indicating the camera for her to smile at

“That’s him.” It’s not a question; Talbott can tell by their resemblance exactly who the boy in the photo is. Seren moves to stand next to him to look at the photo, too. “Yeah. That’s the boy who started it all. Jacob.”

After four years, Talbott finally gets what the deal with Seren Dwyn is. They talk a bit, he becomes one of the few people to learn that her father’s a Squib, her mother’s a Muggleborn, and her grandmother’s a Pureblood supremacist that hates all of them. She figures it’s only fair to share since he told her all about his parents. Seren admits that she’s jealous; she would’ve rather had parents that she believed loved her for a time, even if they were gone, than parents that she knew would never want her and that could easily come back to remind her even if she did leave. It’s a conversation that illuminates all of their similarities and differences. The mutual respect they have for how strong the other must have been to deal with the suffering, the appreciation for each others’ wit, the realization at how naturally they work together...

Talbott can’t deny that he thinks of her as his friend anymore. But to his surprise, she tells him no.

“Talbott, I’m going to strongly advise against that.”

“What? You can’t go to all this trouble and tell me we’re not friends now.”

“I just- I’m not- I can’t really stop you, but I get involved in dangerous situations every year and I don’t want you to feel you have to- to care about...”

“It’s a little late for that.”

“...I know.”

He thinks she’s cute when she’s flustered. Oh wait no oh no is this a crush???

After this it’s a little more flimsy. Not sure what exactly I want to do with them for Year 6 because I’m not entirely sure how much of Year 6 I’m going to want to rewrite. I know that I definitely want Talbott to find Seren, who still traumatized about the Portrait Vault, sitting on the ground when waiting for the Hogwarts Express. She clearly hasn’t slept and is only partially responsive. Even though she’s supposed to go in for a meeting with the other Prefects on the ride over, she ends up falling asleep in a quiet cabin that she got with Talbott. He doesn’t wake her up and hides her from any Prefects that come looking for her (which ends up just being Charlie and the other Hufflepuff Prefect in their year)

Full disclosure that I haven’t finished the Festival sidequest yet, but I’m considering keeping it sans Talbott revealing himself as Seren’s secret admirer. Not wholly sure where to slot that in, though it would probably be just after Flying Solo but before the Portrait Vault putting it... late April/early May of 1989 or so?

#harry potter series #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #seren dwyn #talbott winger #behold: talbott/seren the novel #the slowest and possibly most obnoxious slow burn ever #i have a document full of sidequest rewrite notes that i keep forgetting about #though it's mostly regarding the animagus quest and chiara's quests #quidditch could be its own document because seren doesn't join the team but i still want her to befriend at least murphy and rath #probably orion too but i can't see her getting along with skye at all #anyway for blacklisting purposes i'm gonna tag seren/talbott as #dwynger

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knives-out20 · 4 years ago

Text

Weird. - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, gay shit, angsty backstories,

Notes: So...I’m not back in the marvel fandom, you couldn’t pay me to come back. It’s just...I kinda started watching the X-Men movies, and after spiraling for Lt. Archie Hicox, I’ve caught myself slipping for Erik. So yesterday I made an oc, Karmel. Let me tell you about him:

About OC: Karmel Rosenstein is an American-Jewish mutant. He’s a -deeply- closeted bisexual, who, as you may have already guessed, has a crush on Erik. He’s a year younger than Erik, and his faceclaim, as you can see, is Brad Pitt as Detective David Mills in Se7en (1995). He’s rich like Charles, and was automatic heir to his family’s, well, EVERYTHING after his parents got pelted to death by rocks for simply being Jewish. He’s tried killing himself twice, both at the hands of his powers. His powers are classified as vine powers, because he can summon/create+control vines. He can shoot them out of his hands (or really any part of his body) and control where they go, what they do, what’s on them (thorns, flowers, nothing, leaves, etc), along with make them appear from the ground. His hero name is ‘Caramel Climber’. More to come from these two. But for now; enjoy.

Karmel lay flat on the bed of his room in the X-Mansion, a hand raised so that he could control his vines. He sighed softly, stretching his hand all the way up as his vines formed a heart shape above him.

”This isn’t right,” Karmel thought to himself, for around the millionth time in his life.”You’re a man, so is he. This isn’t right, this isn’t normal. It’s weird. You’ve got other things to worry about, anyway. Stop pretending” he groaned.”Some phase this is. It’s lasted since I was thirteen” Karmel mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut.”Charlie thinks my thoughts give him headaches, my thoughts give myself fucking migraines.”

He wasn’t very content with the fact that when he opened his eyes, his vines had written ‘ERIK’ inside the heart, along with an arrow going through it. Karmel scowled, waving an arm to make the vines disperse away.”Fucking faggot” he thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose.”What I feel isn’t real...it can’t be. Boys can’t like boys, Rosenstein. You’re sick in the fucking head, what is wrong with you?” Karmel sat up, picking up a bottle of water and throwing it across the room, the bottle just about missing Erik, who stood in the doorway.

Erik flinched away, watching the bottle hit the floor as he closed the door behind himself.”Some welcome that is.”

“Erik...I didn’t see you. I’m sorry” Karmel apologized.”Did it hurt you at all? A small graze, maybe?”

“No, the wall took all of the damage. Bad timing?”

“No, no, it’s just...midnight thoughts.”

“It’s 8:30 in the evening.”

“Night time thoughts, then. What are you, the time police?”

Erik held back a chuckle, approaching Karmel on the bed. He watched as Karmel’s vines slowly seeped away, disappearing behind Karmel’s back.”Something bothering you?”

“I mean, spending my early thirties to use my weird powers to stop a nuclear war and for some reason co-exist with the very same species that killed my parents based on their religion is...not how I saw myself spending this week” Karmel explained.”My powers are one of the main things I spent my whole life repressing. And now I need to use it to stop a third world war? Erik, man, I just...damn.” Is all he could muster up.

“You’re lucky you had the option to not use your powers most your life” Erik pointed out, looking away.”But, trauma isn’t a competition, now, is it? I’m just surprised that I’m still here.”

“I’m glad you’re still here. The group would be so boring if you had left that night...you think outside the box, you have more balls than anyone in this group. I’m glad you stayed” Karmel explained, fixing his tie.”I fear you’re the only one in this group who can...handle me, I’d say. Who understands me the most, and what I’ve gone through. You’ve gone through more, no doubt, but...I feel you know what I mean” he smiled for a moment.

Erik nodded.”Indeed I do. A bunch of rocks compared to a gunshot...”

“Aching, twitching bodies compared to a limp one” Karmel muttered.”Was watching it happen worth being taken under my uncle’s care? Being the automatic heir to my family’s wealth, when I was older than you were, then? I remember ordering that every rock, no matter the size, to be removed from every square inch of the property...couldn’t even stand the word” he chattered on, hand balling into a fist.

Erik stayed silent. Always one to listen.

Karmel waved a hand dismissively, a vine slithering to fetch the water bottle.”What brings you to me, anyway?”

Erik shrugged.”Fresh breath of Jew never hurt me.”

Karmel chuckled, heart beat picking up the pace.”Glad that my religion could be of service” he joked, all previous thoughts against his feelings for Erik leaving his head.

It couldn’t be that bad, right? Evolving romantic feelings is natural, it’s human nature. We can’t control the gender of who we fall for.

”I feel torn with Charles’ whole idea. Co-exist with the same species who pelted my parents with rocks for their religion. Co-exist with the same species who lynch and arson other peoples of their species for simply being attracted to the same gender. Co-exist with the same species who destroy what they don’t understand...it’s kinda a load of nonsense.” Karmel explained.”He can’t possibly pretend that they’re all like Moira...but I guess that means I can’t act as if they’re all like the ones who destroyed my parents- augh, I hate it here” he covered his hands with his face, lying back down and closing his eyes.”Competent thought is a nuisance.”

Erik sat down by Karmel, careful not to disturb the serenity of the rest of the bed.”You certainly have a lot on your mind, hmm?”

“Me talking is like a faucet I forget to turn off. I’ve never had anybody listen to me that often, so once someone shows the smallest sign of wanting to listen, I go on for as long as I can...I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure we know more than anyone how it feels to bottle things up, yea?”.

“...Yea.”

Erik pat his knee, giving Karmel a forcefully-short-lived, ecstatic feeling.”What say I only stayed because I knew you’d go crazy being the only one with our alike morals on this team?”

“I’d say you’re only saying that to try ‘n’ make me feel better.”

Erik raised his eyebrows.”And?”

Karmel’s lips twitched awkwardly as he opened his eyes again.”I’d say it’s working.”

“Perfection” Erik winked playfully.

Karmel gulped, heart set aflame.”Whatever. What do you say we even do about this? Our differing views to Charlie’s? Stick around, see if it does us any good? If it- If it’s worth it?”

“I’d say so, yes.”

“You’re both men,” Karmel thought again, “control yourself, it’s weird.” He averted his gaze.”Some names Raven gave us, yea? Mag-neet-o and Caramel Climber” Karmel scoffed.”Magnet-o would make more sense. Because..magnet. Not mag-neet, it’s simple.”

“You act like your name is any better, Caramel Climber” Erik sassed.

“I was just getting to that. It sounds like I literally climb caramel- which I don’t! It’s just ‘cause of my weird hair colour, and- and how my name sounds like caramel. And then vines are classified as climber plants, so there’s that” Karmen explained, draping an arm over his eyes.

“At least it’s pronounced correctly” Erik rolled his eyes, adjusting the neck of his turtleneck.”Professor X makes the most sense. Didn’t you say Charles was actually going to become one?”

Karmel smiled softly at the fact that Erik remembered something he said.”Yea. He’s gonna become a professor, his last name starts with X...We got stuck with the short straws, huh?”

“I guess so” Erik agreed, standing back up and turning to face Karmel.

Karmel gazed up at Erik, a soft smile on his lips. He was unaware of his vines growing from behind him and forming a heart shape behind him, him being in the center.

Erik noticed, arching a brow.”Uhm...” He vaguely gestured for Karmel to turn around.

Karmel did so, eyes going wide and waving his hand, the vines quickly shrinking away.”That’s...That was weird, my bad.”

“Quite...” Erik squinted.”You’re yet to take complete control over your vines?”

“Afraid so. They’re semi-sentient sometimes, it- it’s weird” Karmel shrugged, sitting up. He put one hand flat on his knee, the other over his other thigh. Karmel glanced up at Erik, then down, noticing how the toes of their shoes were just about grazing each other. He pursed his lips, turning away.

“I know how you feel about me.”

“I have no idea what you mean-- what?” Karmel asked, head snapping in Erik’s direction.

Erik sighed silently.”I know how you feel about me, Karmel. As if that vine-heart you did wasn’t obvious enough- you’re not very good at hiding how you feel, you know” he told, crossing his arms.

“I- I...” Karmel stuttered, searching for something to say.”I don’t know what you’re talking about, Erik. We’re friends, of course you know how I feel about you. We’re just two dudes, two guys, who feel for each other in a way that friends should. Anything otherwise is weird” he coughed, tugging the collar of his button-up.

Erik rubbed the bridge of his nose.”It’s just the two of us, Karmel. No need to pretend...Please.”

Karmel defensively crossed his arms, huffing. He looked into Erik’s eyes, and saw nothing but complete, utter honestly. Karmel groaned in defeat, “okay.”

“Finally.”

“I’ve denied and bottled up any feelings I ever had towards any man in my life that wasn’t platonic for practically my entire life, especially you. I thought of it as...Weird. Not right. Not normal, y’know? Because, to me, I feel it isn’t normal. It’s inhumane- which is funny for me to say, because I’m a literal mutant” Karmel explained, slowly unfolding his arms.”Falling for you, Erik, was completely unintentional. Yet...it was on-sight. And I tried getting closer, I’m sure you’re well aware,” he gestured a hand up at Erik, who nodded.

“Well aware.”

“Exactly. I just...it’s weird, weirder than my powers. I’ve thought about you, me, and us, Erik. More than I ever have for any other man. I didn’t really let myself repress my thoughts about you like I usually do, it’s strange. But...I guess since you know, you deserve to know. I’m in love with you, Erik. As much as I don’t want to, as much as I’ve tried falling out of love with you, I’m deeper in love with you than ever before. Do with this information, uh, what you wish, I guess. Whatever the statement is.”

“Do with this information what you will” Erik corrected, a hand on his hip. He sat beside Karmel, who shifted away.”I won’t hold this information against you, first and foremost” Erik stated.”I’d much rather you indulge in these feelings, and I accept them with open arms, because it appears I’m better at hiding my romantic interests in other people than you are.”

“Huh-?”

“You heard me” Erik raised his eyebrows, fingers brushing over Karmel’s.

“You...” Karmel furrowed his eyebrows, a vine emerging to point at Erik.”You feel the same way-? About me?”

“Strangely so. Possibly as unintentional as your feelings were, but they came to me slower. It’s....weird, like you said” Erik nodded.”How about we keep this,” he gestured between Karmel and himself, “on the down-low for now? Or, as long as you want, I’m okay with however long that may be. We’ll work our way though this, and see how it goes. Sound good?”

Karmel maintained eye contact with Erik, blinking as he processed the weight of it all.”Uh- yea, sure. That’d be...cool.”

“Wonderful” Erik cracked a quick smile, patting Karmel’s cheek before standing back up.”We have a supposedly big day ahead of us tomorrow. Get some rest, Karmel. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Karmel nodded.”I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

Erik chuckled as he opened the door.”Goodnight” he replied, closing the door behind himself.

Karmel’s jaw dropped, replaying the recent scene over and over in his head.”Huh...” he breathed, cheeks filled with colour.”Weird.”

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spiritedquill · 5 years ago

Text

Sonny’s Home For Boys: Chapter 4

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 |

AO3 | FFnet

Summary: He wasn't staying. There was no way he could stay, even if Sonny treated him like one of his own. He had to get back to Sammy. His dad would come back and he'd go back to doing what he did best: hunting. Still... the mysterious blue-eyed boy named Castiel made it really hard to not want to stick around and never go anywhere else again.

Chapter 4:

“Bal, pleeeeease? I’ve never played, and isn’t it like a rite of passage or something?”

“I mean, sure, but usually you need more than two people to play,” Balthazar said, touching Cas’s shoulder and laughing nervously. “Besides, you’re way too drunk.”

“Yeah, but I need practice!” Cas insisted. “Meg asked me out, remember? And I said yes! What if she wants to kiss me and I don’t know how?”

Balthazar really didn’t know how to answer that. Of course Cas needed practice, he was fourteen. He’d never been on a date before, let alone kissed anyone. And if he was being honest, the thought of Cas kissing Meg made Balthazar kinda queasy. He really didn’t want to think about why that was.

“Fine,” he sighed. “We can play spin the bottle… with two people. What the hell?”

Cas laughed happily and put his hands on Balthazar’s legs, using them as leverage to push himself to his feet. “Now we just need a bottle.”

Balthazar grinned at the determined look on Castiel’s face. “Love, there’s a bottle right next to you. The one you just finished drinking out of.”

“Oh.” Cas plopped back down on the carpet and situated himself across from Balthazar, grabbing the bottle and setting it between the two of them. “Alright, so I just spin it right? And then I kiss… whoever it lands on?”

Balthazar laughed. “Yes, that’s generally how the game is played.” He couldn’t help but grin at how adorable Cas was. “Well go on now.”

Cas nodded and flicked the bottle, jumping when it spun off to the side a few feet. “Oops.”

Balthazar glanced over at it with a smirk. “I mean, I suppose it’s pointed at me. Wouldn’t you say so?”

Cas grinned and nodded. “I mean there’s no one else it could be pointing to.”

“My point exactly.”

Balthazar swallowed thickly. He could only stall for so long. And why was he stalling anyways? Cas was his best friend. It wasn’t weird. Why would it be?

“So…” Cas laughed breathlessly, sitting cross-legged with his hands clasped in his lap. “How do we do this?”

Balthazar inched closer until their knees touched. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Just, um… here, put your hand on my shoulder or something and, uh…” Balthazar trailed off, looking at Cas. His heart caught in his throat at the way Cas was staring at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Like this…” Balthazar closed his eyes and leaned in, touching his lips to Cas’s ever so lightly. He slotted his bottom lip between Castiel’s slightly parted lips and just… stayed there. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Cas hummed softly and leaned forward a fraction of an inch. It took everything Balthazar had not to grab him and kiss him and never ever stop.

He stayed there, eyes closed tight, for a few more seconds before slowly pulling away. Hesitantly opening his eyes, he saw Cas frozen in time for a moment with his eyes closed and lips parted. Then his eyes blinked open slowly and he smiled at Balthazar.

“Well,” he said, giggling softly. “I guess now I know what all the fuss is about.”

Balthazar laughed, trying to hide how much doing so pained him. “Happy to be of service.” Cas didn’t say anything to that and Balthazar had to look away, licking his lips. “Well, uh… You know… I just wanted to make sure your first kiss was with someone who really loves you.”

“Balth?” Charlie said, snapping him out of his thoughts as they walked to the lunchroom together. “Hey, are you alright?”

“Oh, uh… yeah, I’m fine,” he said, blinking hard a few times. “Just daydreaming, I guess.”

Cas gave him a worried look, but he could tell Balthazar didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t push. Charlie did the same, reluctantly.

“Hey Cas,” Charlie said, changing the subject. “Are you going out for the wrestling team again this year? You’re the best guy we’ve got.”

Cas laughed. “I don’t know about best, but yes I’m planning on it. It was a lot of fun last year. And it’ll be even more fun now that Gordon was kicked off the team.”

“After the way that son of a bitch choked you out last season, it’s a miracle he wasn’t expelled,” Balthazar chimed in, shifting uncomfortably. He was trying not to let his temper flare again. Thankfully Gordon wasn’t in the lunch room today, he noticed as they found a table and sat down.

“I still won that match, for the record,” Cas said with a grin.

“See? The best,” Charlie said, pointing at him with a smirk.

Cas laughed, but trailed off as his attention was drawn to the cafeteria entrance. Dean walked in, looking uncomfortable even as he made his way to the table where Benny and the others were sitting. The stares from the other students hadn’t quite died down yet.

Cas watched him, barely even realizing he was staring, and he couldn’t help but feel some sense of guilt. Sure, they had been talking a little bit, but only in class. At Sonny’s Cas still found it difficult to even look at him. It was one thing to talk to Dean in a classroom setting where they had to stay mostly focused on their assignments. But at home… Cas was afraid of what might happen if he let himself cross that line.

At least Dean wasn’t completely alone, Cas reasoned. But he knew that didn’t change the way he felt every time Dean tried to talk to him at Sonny’s and Cas shot him down.

Dean had forgotten the biggest reason he hated school. He was always the new kid, always the mysterious weirdo that came and left in a year or less. Even though he’d been there for almost a week and he had actually made a few friends, people still stared at him.

As he walked into the cafeteria after having grabbed a tray of food, he could feel everyone staring at him. Even Cas was staring, he noticed, and Dean couldn’t meet his eyes. He’d thought they had made progress in chemistry class, but Cas barely spoke a word to him once school was out.

“Hey, newbie!” Benny called, and Dean rolled his eyes. He still didn’t like that nickname, but he knew Benny didn’t mean any harm. And it was nice to have some boys his age who liked having him around.

He walked over to where Benny was sitting with Ash and Chuck. “Hey, Dean!” Chuck greeted him enthusiastically. “Howdy, boys,” Dean said, sitting down with a chuckle. As odd of a group as they were, Dean liked them. They didn’t treat him like he had a third eye or anything.

“So, today’s guesses on what kind of meat this is,” Ash said, making a face at his tray and poking the food with his fork. “I’m pretty sure mine is some guy’s foot.”

“Mm, feet meet,” Chuck chimed in, reaching for Ash’s tray. “Gimme!”

“Hey, that’s my foot!” Ash complained, swatting his hand away, and Chuck burst out into giggles. “No touchy!”

“Mine looks like a monkey’s ass,” Benny said, staring at his food and scrunching up his nose.

The four of them all busted out laughing then. As Dean’s side ached with laughter, he couldn’t help but think that he hadn’t laughed this hard since he was four years old.

The boys picked at their food for a few minutes, then Chuck spoke up. “Hey Dean, what’s up with you and Cas?”

“Huh?” Dean’s eyes widened in surprise. “Uh, nothing, why?”

“Bullshit,” Ash scoffed. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other in chemistry this whole week.”

“How did you--”

“I keep telling you guys I’m no idiot,” Ash shrugged. “Besides, it’s plain as day.”

“I’m not--” Dean frowned, shaking his head. “No one’s making googly eyes. We’re just… friends. I guess. I don’t really know what we are, to tell ya the truth. Some days he’ll talk to me and everything’s a-okay and then he just goes dead silent on me. I don’t get it.”

“Cas has been through a lot,” Benny told him quietly, and Dean didn’t think he’d seen Benny’s expression so serious in the two weeks he’d been there.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone keeps saying,” Dean said, frowning. “I still don’t know what that means.”

“Well, he’s not at Sonny’s for the same reasons we all ended up here,” Chuck told him. “Most of us, our parents are either dead or never in the picture in the first place. But Cas, he… he basically got disowned.”

“Disowned?” Dean repeated, shocked. He suddenly felt a rush of sympathy and comradery towards Castiel. He was abandoned just like me… “For… for what?”

“Lots of reasons,” Benny said vaguely. “There’s all these rumors but one thing I know is he got in some trouble with the cops and his dad told him not to come home.”

Dean was about to ask for more details when the bell rang. Dammit. Every new thing he learned about Cas just made him want to know more about the boy. Which would be a hell of a lot easier if Cas would actually talk to him about more than their lab assignment. He still didn’t understand why Cas acted completely normal in class and then totally ignored him when they were at home.

He wished he could figure out why Cas was so afraid to really be his friend.

“Dad, I’m going to Balthazar’s to study,” Cas said, already opening the front door.

“Hold on,” Zachariah said, looking up at Cas through his glasses. He was sitting in his chair reading, and he rarely paid attention to much else when was reading. That’s how Cas knew it wasn’t the good kind of ‘hold on.’

“Yes, father?” he responded weakly, closing the door and standing anxiously at the edge of the tile entryway.

“You’re spending more and more time at this boy’s house,” his father said slowly. “I’m not sure I like what he’s putting in your head.”

Cas swallowed hard. “It’s just biology, father,” he said softly.

“Don’t you talk smart with me, Castiel!” Zachariah snapped, his voice only raising for the first and last word he spoke. That was more terrifying than yelling to Cas. “You know damn well what I mean. Giving you ideas of individuality and that other nonsense people are spouting these days.”

He said “individuality” with such distaste that Cas felt nauseous. He knew that was code for “gay.”

“Dad, he’s just my friend--”

“I think you should study with that nice girl next door,” his father continued. “She comes from a good family, nice folks. You might like her if you’d give it a try.”

Cas looked down, ashamed. “Yes, father.”

At least he could still see Balthazar at school…

Cas was walking home from Charlie’s house after they finished studying for the day, and he couldn’t stop thinking about his father. Despite himself, he actually missed him. He missed having a family.

His father was a cruel man, and horribly old fashioned (i.e. homophobic). From his friendship with Balthazar, Cas had learned that being gay wasn’t really a bad thing. That it didn’t make someone wrong or unlovable like his father had always taught him. He knew that. He knew that the feelings he had were normal and that he wasn’t a bad person, but when you’re taught to believe a certain thing for your entire life, it’s almost impossible to ever abandon that idea completely.

So it didn’t matter that he wanted to be close to Dean, or that Dean was trying so hard to be his friend. It didn’t matter that Cas couldn’t help but smile every time Dean cracked a dumb joke or even spoke Cas’s name. And it most definitely didn’t matter that Cas’s heart leaped every time their hands brushed during a lab assignment. None of that could matter to Cas if he ever wanted to see his family again.

Deep down, he knew it was a foolish hope, going home. His father would never allow it. But he just kept hoping that if he tried hard enough, that part of him would go away and his father would love him again. Like he loved Michael, and like he loved Anna.

Cas made it back to Sonny’s and went straight upstairs to his bed. He’d eaten at Charlie’s and he wasn’t in the mood for social interaction.

Cas opened the bedroom door and startled when he found that the room wasn’t empty. Dean was there, lying on his bed and twirling his pocket knife around his fingers, staring at it.

He glanced up when he heard the door open, and he stopped twirling when he saw Cas standing there. He sat up. “Hey.”

“Hi, Dean,” Cas murmured, standing still in the doorway.

“I won’t bite,” Dean told him after a moment, nodding to Cas’s bed. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

Cas saw the hurt in his eyes even as he spoke the words. The guilt twisted in Cas’s stomach. Without really meaning to, he took a few steps closer to Dean. He didn’t speak as he passed the boy and sat down on his own bed. Dean sighed, sitting with his back facing Cas now, and went back to twirling his knife.

“That’s a nice knife,” Cas commented despite his brain telling him to just shut up and go to sleep. “Is that real silver?”

Dean paused his ministrations and took a moment to study the inscription on the blade. “Yeah, pure silver.”

“Trying to skin a werewolf or something?” Cas joked, laughing lightly.

Dean almost choked. “W-What?”

Cas frowned. “The, uh… the stories. Werewolves, pure silver stake to the heart. Ya know all those legends.”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean choked out. “Legends. ‘Course. Uh, no, it was a gift from my uncle. Said it’s good luck or something.”

Cas nodded even though Dean couldn’t see him. “It’s nice,” he said again.

“Thanks.”

Cas watched as Dean went back to twirling the knife. He couldn’t help but be distracted by the nimble way his fingers twisted around the blade and hilt. He remembered the way those fingers felt against his skin when he was patching him up that first day…

No. Cas stopped that thought in its tracks. But it was difficult to focus on anything but Dean…

“Take a picture,” Dean grumbled, clasping his fist around the knife and setting it roughly on his nightstand. He didn’t have to look to know Cas was staring at him. “It’ll last longer.”

Cas startled a bit and shook his head. “I-- sorry.”

Dean huffed out a sigh and laid down on his back. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “Don’t pretend we’re friends, either. I can take a hint.”

Cas wanted to scream that no, no that wasn’t it, not at all. He wanted to grab Dean’s hand and tell him everything, the reason why he couldn’t make himself talk to Dean like a normal human being. The reason why he had to push him away. He wished he could… but instead he just sighed softly and laid down on his side with his back to Dean. He figured this was easier. Not exactly a clean break, but as close as he could manage.

Dean had hoped that Cas would say something like the last time. In chemistry class, when Dean had pulled away, Cas had pulled him back in, made him feel like he wasn’t crazy for thinking they could be friends. But this time… he gave up. Didn’t say a word. Yeah, Dean could take a hint. But he would have to be a goddamn mind-reader to figure out what the hell Cas wanted from him.

After that night, Dean honestly regretted saying anything at all. At least when he muddled through Cas ignoring him at Sonny’s, he knew he’d still get to talk to Cas in chem class. But when he showed up to class, Cas didn’t even say hello. Great, now Cas was back to not talking to him at all.

Fine, Dean figured. He’d told Cas to tell him to go if he wanted him gone, and in not quite so many words, he’d done just that. Well at least now Dean knew where he stood. There was no point in sugar coating it. He still didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to keep holding out hope.

“Daddy, daddy!”

“What is it, Castiel? I’m very busy.”

“But daddy, look! I drew a picture!” Castiel held up a crayon drawing he’d done in class. His 1st grade teacher gave them daily words to draw, and today’s word was ‘friend.’ “I made a new friend and Miss Claire said it’s okay to hold hands with friends. Even the boy ones!”

Zachariah looked up when he heard that, and it was almost as if there were actual flames in his eyes. “Castiel, that is disgusting,” he said firmly. He grabbed the drawing, crumpled it, and threw it in the trash. “I will not have my son holding hands with boys and becoming some kind of homo.”

Cas felt tears well up in his eyes and he sniffled. “Daddy, what--”

“Go to your room, Castiel, I have work to do.”

Tears spilled onto his cheeks and he ran upstairs to his bedroom, closing the door and crawling onto his bed. He muffled his sobs in a pillow, half-aware of his older brother wrapping his arms around him.

“Gabe, w-what’s a homo?” Cas gasped out in between sobs. “Daddy said he doesn’t want me to be one.”

Gabriel rubbed his brother’s back and held him close. He didn’t know what to say. “It’s alright, Cassie… Don’t worry about that, it’s alright…”

Cas turned and cried into Gabriel’s shoulder, sniffling and coughing as his brother held him tight. Right then and there, without even knowing what the word meant, Cas promised himself he would never be a homo. He never wanted his dad to look at him like that ever again.

Cas woke up with sweat on the back of his neck and tears on his face. He gasped softly and sat up a bit, sniffling as he looked around the room. He was at Sonny’s, not at his house. His dad wasn’t here. He was safe.

“Cas?”

Castiel startled and looked over at the source of the voice: Dean.

“I-It’s okay, Dean,” Cas said shakily. “Go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to get a good look at Cas in the darkness. “Are you crying?”

“N-No,” Cas said, and he knew it wasn’t convincing. He sniffled and wrapped his arms around his knees. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” Dean said in a soft tone, and Cas’s heart ached. He watched as Dean stood up and crossed the distance between their beds. He took a seat on the edge of Cas’s mattress and Cas could just barely see his face with the moonlight shining in through the window. “C’mere,” Dean said, holding his hand out. Cas looked at it hesitantly. “My brother used to have nightmares. I held him until he could fall asleep again. Can I...?”

The ache in Cas’s chest grew more insistent and Cas drew in a shaky breath, reaching out to take Dean’s hand. With Cas’s permission, Dean scooted closer and wrapped his arms around Cas, holding the boy to his chest. He started singing softly, something his mother used to sing to him. He didn’t remember the words, but the melody still played through his head clear as if his mother was singing it herself.

Cas felt himself relaxing in Dean’s hold, his breathing slowly evening out. Dean smiled softly and rubbed his back. He stayed there until he was sure Cas was sound asleep, then he gently laid the boy back down on his pillow. “Goodnight, Cas,” he whispered, covering him with the blanket before crawling back into his own bed.

Cas hadn’t slept so peacefully in years.

Cas had to leave the house before Dean had the chance to get out of bed just to keep himself from giving in and talking to Dean. If he was being honest with himself, he knew it was only a matter of time before he couldn’t keep up the act anymore, and last night had only made him more certain of that. There was something about the way Dean held him and comforted him that made Cas want to stay in his embrace for the rest of eternity. And maybe Dean would agree to hold him again if only Cas could let himself accept it…

Cas’s mind wandered without his permission, remembering over and over the few moments when Dean held him close and he didn’t even care what his dad said because Dean’s embrace just felt right. Cas was far too tired to keep the thoughts at bay, and he knew it was a bad idea but he let the thoughts come and fill his mind with Dean.

He was still lost in thought by the time he got to his first class. The teacher was the only one in the room but she didn’t mind Cas taking his seat early. He used to do it all the time when he didn’t want to be at home. He’d known Miss Larsen since he had her for math in 8th grade, and she was one of the few people who knew about his situation at home.

Cas took his seat in the front of the room and pulled out his notebook, a few pens, and a pencil. Still allowing his thoughts to run free, he began sketching in the back of his notebook.

“What’s that, Cassie?”

He startled when Charlie sat down next to him. He looked up and saw her eyes widen a little in realization as she looked at his notebook. Cas was a very detailed artist and there was no mistaking those eyes.

“You’re drawing Dean,” she said softly, and Cas quickly closed the notebook. “Cassie, honey, why won’t you just talk to him?”

“I want to…” Cas admitted, not meeting her eyes. “Last night, he… I had a nightmare and… He hugged me and sang to me until I fell asleep.”

“Awww,” Charlie cooed, punching his shoulder lightly. “I knew he liked you.”

Cas choked out a laugh. “Are you serious? He doesn’t like me, he likes Robin.”

Charlie shrugged. “He’s just a flirt. But he’s different with you, I can tell.”

“It isn’t like that,” Cas shook his head.

“Of course it is.” Charlie rolled her eyes and pushed his chin up to make him look at her. “Cas, what’s going on? This is about more than your dad.”

Cas sighed. She was right, of course she was. But if it wasn’t about his dad, Cas didn’t really know what it was about. Dean was just… different.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Charlie said after a moment. “But I think you owe it to yourself to figure out the real reason it’s so hard for you to talk to Dean. It’s not really fair to him, either.”

Cas nodded. “I know.”

He went quiet, and Charlie gave him his space as he continued sketching. Cas wanted to take her advice, to let Dean in and see if he felt the same way Cas did. Sometimes he thought he did, but he felt crazy for even thinking it.

Besides, Cas didn’t know the first thing about being in love. The whole idea was terrifying, especially with Dean. And Charlie was right, it wasn’t because of his dad or religion or guilt or anything like that. Cas had never felt like this about anyone before, and something about Dean made him feel like he could lose him at any second. And if he could lose him, then it was far too risky to love him. It didn’t even matter if Dean had any kind of feelings for him, it was just too big a risk. Cas wasn’t ready to take that on.

What he couldn’t admit was that his feelings for Dean were already out of his control. He was already terrified to lose him… so why did he keep pushing Dean away?

Dean had honestly hoped that last night would’ve changed things, but when he woke up and Cas was already gone he knew it hadn’t. He was still glad he was able to help Cas when he was upset, though, even if Cas was still avoiding him.

He wondered if this was how normal teenagers felt. He didn’t think this was normal. Benny was always staring at cheerleaders, and Dean wondered if that’s what he was supposed to be doing too. He just wanted to be a normal teenage boy, dammit.

He was really trying. He was going to school, doing his homework, flirting with a pretty girl who he was pretty sure was flirting back. How much more normal could he get? Then again, Dean didn’t really know the first thing about normal. His only idea of normal was vengeful spirits and werewolves and crappy motel rooms.

Dean walked to school by himself, not really in the mood for being social. He did brighten a little when he met up with Robin at the front doors.

“Morning, Dean,” she said with a smile. “Walk ya to class?”

“Sure thing,” Dean told her, smiling back. “There are definitely worse ways to spend my morning than walking to class with a pretty lady like yourself.”

Robin rolled her eyes, her cheeks flushing. “Flattered,” she shot back. “But don’t think too much of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Dean offered a charming smile and Robin laughed and shook her head.

They walked into class and Dean faltered in his steps as soon as he saw Cas. He tried to play it off and continue to his seat but he knew Cas had seen him. He saw Cas stare at him the second he walked in the door. Dean wished he could figure out what the hell he was thinking when he stared at him like that.

Cas didn’t look at him at all for the rest of class, just scribbling in his notebook. Dean couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. He certainly wasn’t taking notes. He seemed distracted.

Dean was distracted, too. Several times he considered passing Cas a note, but he felt silly even thinking about it. Besides, he didn’t really want Cas’s friends to read what he had to say.

He tried to focus on class. He was never great at math but he honestly wasn’t sure if this trigonometry stuff was actually math. There were way too many letters.

He glanced down when he heard a light clattering on the floor. He saw a pencil rolling towards him and he glanced back to see Robin smiling at him. He smiled too at the throwback to the first day of class, reaching down to pick up her pencil.

“I think you dropped this,” he whispered. Robin bit her lip and took the pencil from him, trading it for a folded up piece of paper. Dean looked at and then looked at her like ‘seriously?’

Robin rolled her eyes and gestured for him to open it. He did.

Want some company at lunch? One can only take so much of those three bozos you’ve been sitting with.

Dean bit back a laugh and wrote his response underneath Robin’s neat scrawl, handing it back to her.

Dear god yes.

Robin giggled and Dean looked at her with a smile. He watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ears. It was kind of adorable.

Almost as adorable as way Cas’s forehead scrunched up in chem lab when he was focusing really hard on something…

Dean shook his head, pulling his focus back to Robin. Cas didn’t want him around. Robin did. It was that simple.

When lunchtime came around, Dean met up with Robin outside the cafeteria.

“‘Bout time you had lunch with me after all that flirting,” she teased, winking and nudging his shoulder with hers.

“I would’ve asked sooner if I thought you’d say yes,” Dean said honestly as they grabbed their trays of food.

“Before today, I probably wouldn’t have,” Robin admitted with a shrug.

“Why’s that?” Dean asked.

Robin laughed shyly and pushed her hair back. “Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed or the boys told you, but I’ve kinda had this crush on Cas since like forever.”

“I might’ve heard that somewhere,” Dean nodded, looking away and huffing out half of a laugh. “So what made you change your mind about me?”

Robin bit her lip and didn’t say anything for a while. Then, “Here, I wanna show you something.”

Dean’s face twisted up in confusion but he followed her, out of the cafeteria, down the hall, and outside. She led him to an old metal bench, tucked away underneath the bleachers at the football stadium. “What’s this?”

“Just someplace I like to go to eat in peace,” Robin said, smiling tentatively. Dean could tell this wasn’t somewhere she took just anyone for lunch. “Dean, I… To tell you the truth, I do like you. I have since you first came to Sonny’s. And Cas… well, that’s never gonna happen. For a lot of reasons, but it’s complicated.”

“Yeah, that seems to be his deal,” Dean said, frowning. “Complicated.” He paused, processing what she’d said and smiling. “So… You said you… well, I mean, I like you too.”

Robin’s smile stretched wider across her face, but it soon fell as she spoke again. “So, you and Cas, that’s not…?” she asked, almost wishing she hadn’t when Dean’s smile fell too.

“That’s… Well, honestly I don’t really know. I mean I thought we were friends or something but he keeps getting all weird around me and now he’s not talking to me.” Dean looked at Robin and he felt guilt wash over him, though he wasn’t totally sure why. Her expression looked sad and understanding, though Dean didn’t really know what she was understanding.

Robin thought she had to be the unluckiest girl on earth. The only two guys she had ever wanted to have some sort of romantic relationship with, and they had the hots for each other. She could see it in Dean’s eyes when he talked about Cas. He was heartbroken that Cas was shutting him out, and he clearly had some kind of feelings for him. And she knew Cas liked Dean too, even if he had his reasons for keeping his distance.

Still, she reminded herself, Dean was here, talking to her, flirting with her, smiling at her. And Cas was pushing him away, hell he was pushing her away too. Maybe they could find something in each other in all this mess.

“It’s complicated,” Robin finally said, reaching out to touch Dean’s hand and then pulling back. Dean glanced down at the movement and inched his hand closer to her where it sat between them on the bench. She bit her lip and placed her hand over Dean’s. “Cas, he… well it’s a mess. It’s not really my place to tell.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “I get it.” And Dean thought that was that, but Robin continued, speaking carefully.

“But he’s been through a lot,” she told him. “Sometimes he forgets that not everyone sees the worst in him and he pushes people away. He forgets that we’re not all judgmental jerks.”

“He doesn’t seem to be pushing those two away,” Dean said, gesturing in the general direction of the cafeteria. Robin knew who he meant.

“Charlie and Balthazar… they’re different,” Robin sighed. “Balthazar and Cas, they’ve known each other since they were basically babies. And Charlie came into it a little later but they’re inseparable, always have been. Nothing comes between them that I’ve ever seen.” She paused, and Dean could tell she longed to have that sort of bond with Cas too. She wanted more than that, but still. “But I don’t think it’s anything you did wrong, necessarily,” she assured Dean, rubbing her thumb over his wrist. “It’s just Cas.”

Honestly that did make Dean feel a little better, but not much. In that moment, though, he decided he was done talking about Cas. If there was no hope anyways, he wanted to focus on what he could see. And that was Robin, right here in front of him.

“Well, hey, look,” Dean said, turning his hand to wrap his fingers around Robin’s. “You’ve been nothing but friendly to me since I got here, so that’s something. I must have done something right to deserve that.”

Robin smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. Adorable. “You could say that,” she laughed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

“Well it’s a two way street we’ve got goin’ here,” Dean laughed softly. “The flirting and all… Don’t tell me I’m just seein’ things that ain’t there.”

“You’re not,” she whispered, catching her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezing his hand. She smiled at him and Dean glanced down at her lips. God it was hard to resist. “Well?”

“Huh?” Dean said intelligently, gaping at her for a moment. “What’d I do?”

Robin giggled. “Well, I was sort of hoping you would kiss me sometime before next year, Romeo.”

Dean’s face flushed and he smiled nervously. “Right,” he breathed out. “‘Course. I can do that.” He may have played the cocky, confident, experienced playboy, but truthfully he wasn’t really sure what he was doing when it came to the real deal.

Dean leaned forward, moving his hand to her shoulder and holding it so gently he was barely making contact. He saw Robin close her eyes, waiting, and he swallowed hard and went for it. He pressed his lips to hers and inhaled through his nose. Damn, it felt like flying. She tasted like cinnamon and smelled like apples.

Before he could lose his mind, Dean slowly pulled away, not opening his eyes for a few seconds. He felt Robin’s breath against his lips and he blinked his eyes open, watching as she did the same.

“That was… nice,” he said with a breath laugh. Dammit, Dean. Nice? “I mean, um…”

She smiled at him. “Yeah. It was.”

They both laughed softly, relieved to have the tension broken.

They didn’t talk much through the rest of lunch, eating their food and sneaking glances at each other. For the first time since Dean had arrived at Sonny’s, he wasn’t hyper focused on Cas. He felt normal and actually something resembling happy for the first time in as long as he could remember. He was grateful to Robin for that.

Though, despite how fantastic Robin was at distracting him from his troubles, deep down he knew that’s all it was. A distraction. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Robin, but it was just another one of his silly crushes. He’d get over it and then he’d be alone again. But Cas…

Cas was different, somehow. Dean didn’t understand why, but he couldn’t deny it was true. Dean wished it wasn’t, but he couldn’t escape it. He felt drawn to Cas in a way he’d never experienced before. It was terrifying and exhilarating and all brand new. He really didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t like he was in love with Cas or anything, he just adored the way he smiled, and the way he talked, and the way his hair never seemed to go in the direction he meant it to. So what if he wanted to pull Cas close and hold him and kiss him and keep him safe until he breathed his last breath? It didn’t mean he liked him like that. He liked girls, and he couldn’t just suddenly like guys. That didn’t make any sense.

Still, he knew Cas was special. And he knew that it was extremely important that he needed to get Cas to talk to him. And with wrestling try-outs coming up, he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

@gggghik @brangaene @sold-my-soul-for-spn

#destiel #destiel fic #destiel rp #dean winchester #castiel novak #sonny's home for boys

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tomloki · 6 years ago

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my play experience

Okay story time … I wasn’t sure if I was gonna comment about my play experience on here, but then I thought “what the hey, I kinda actually want to” so on I go… I was in London from the 24th of March to the 27th (a very, very short stay, I know, but it was what I could afford to do and also I had to get back to work and school asap). It was my first time in London and it’s clearly a beautiful city with wonderful people. I wish I had more time to explore it, even though I’m not the touristy type, but I would’ve liked to visit some of the parks and such. Anyway back on track, the play … I was there with my sister and brother and we had seats to the left in Row B in the stalls, so we were very close to the stage. The curtain rises and all three characters are there in the center, motionless, and I’m already heart-eyes staring at Tom at this point. But I’m not going to give a detailed scene by scene breakdown because that would be insanely long. Suffice to say that, having read the actual play beforehand, this performance was everything I could have never imagined, in the best way possible. All the stage direction, all the creative choices made in this production added so much more meaning to the play beyond the literal and made it so heartfelt. I remember reading in the TimeOut review that Betrayal is usually “taken fairly literally, as a realist drama about an affair.” And just off reading it alone (although to be fair, maybe plays aren’t exactly meant to be read??) I also sensed that it was a bland tale about adultery. But not here; not in THIS production. Here, they get it right or they get it different, whichever one it is, they make it so much more than what it appears to be on the surface. Spoilers under the cut.

The shadows on stage:

It’s no secret now that one of the major things that set this production apart is that none of the characters ever really step off stage (well, except for the very last scene where Robert has to appear later in the scene and so, Tom does step off the stage and then back on it). The conversations happen between whichever two characters and the third one stands or sits as a shadow or as the “other.” Sometimes this third “other” is silently watchful, sometimes they’re reflective or somewhat involved in the scene, and sometimes they’re staring straight ahead into the abyss. In all occasions, the third becomes the topic of the conversation, at some point, between two of the characters. And the reason this creative choice works so well is that it helps you realize that there’s nothing linear about this story of betrayal, its triangular.. its a trio caught up in each other’s lies and this mess of their own making. In any conversation, there’s always concern for the third and you start to truly feel like these three people cannot exist without each other ... it can’t be just the two of them, they’re codependent, which is why I think Jerry felt so betrayed by both Emma and Robert even though as an audience we are aware of how much heavier his betrayal toward Robert was than Robert’s betrayal toward him. In an odd sort of way, the third “other” constantly being present made you feel their absence even more, because you’re constantly reminded of their existence outside of the conversation.

Now, there are nine scenes total and Robert is in only four of them, even though that he’s still arguably the most complex character of the three. The fangirl in me was ecstatic in knowing that Tom would never really step off stage. And I think Jaime Lloyd took good advantage of Tom’s ability to be subtle yet vulnerable and placed him in these scene where only his eyes could do any of the talking. In any instance where Robert was the “other,” tom’s expressions were never impassive. Even as he stared into the distance, you felt there was always something on his mind. In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off Tom his eyes DEMAND attention to the point where I sometimes felt I was being unfair to Zawe and Charlie. I would listen to the conversations between Emma and Jerry, but still only really look at Robert, for the most part. You only have to look to the Morning Star review to validate me: Tom Hiddleston, statuesque yet vulnerable, holds the eye at all times. I remember reading a fan’s recount of her RADA Hamlet experience and in it, she says that Tom does this thing where his eyes meet with the most attentive fan in the audience and he makes you his focal point audience-member for the a good amount of the performance. Which makes a lot of sense to me, since he’s such a responsive person and naturally great at being attentive. And, I kid you not, I was close enough to the stage and persistent enough with my stares for that person to be me. Directly after the performance I was talking to my sister and said “I swear I’m not making this up, but me and Tom made direct eye contact at least five times over.” And she hadn’t even let me finish that thought before she affirmed it was happening, she didn’t think it was wishful thinking, she didn’t think I was crazy, she just said “I noticed that each time it happened too! He DID make eye contact with you it was wild.” Like even when we came back home, my dad said I must’ve been imagining it but she jumped in and was like “No, believe me I would’ve called her out if she was being insane, but I witnessed it happening!” I thought about it a lot on my way back to the hotel, that night, and what I thought was that either a) he appreciated my attentiveness and reciprocated it or b) this was a natural Tom reaction to someone constantly looking his way (which we all know that he’s very responsive and really great with eye contact so maybe he couldn’t help but look back at the person constantly looking at him) or c) he looked at me and thought “this isn’t even my scene you creep, you should redirect your attention to Zawe and Charlie.” Whichever it was, because Tom is so good at remembering faces, I like to think that if he does even remember me at all, he’ll remember me as the creepy girl in the scarf who stared him down. It was out of love for him though and his performance elicited nothing less, so I really hope it didn’t come off as creepy.

Robert’s persona:

There’s a lot to be said about Robert and there’s a lot more to be said about Robert as portrayed by Tom Hiddleston. Think probably in the same manner that Tom was praised for making Cassio charming and memorable, qualities not usually attributed to this character. So, clearly Tom’s ability to sympathize with the characters he portrays is ever present in his performance and transfers over to the audience. Reading Robert on page, you sense that he’s got this sort of macho stoicism complex and it makes it difficult for you to ever feel genuinely sorry for him. But the way Tom portrays him, this same macho stoicism starts to feel deeply like a persona that the character works hard to keep. It’s Robert’s mask, it’s how he protects himself, but when it becomes revealed to him that his wife is indeed cheating on him with his best friend, he cannot help but have a real reaction to it. And even then, tom finds a balance with his tears to form a character that is still trying to stay in control even as he’s breaking. Even as his world is falling apart, he doesn’t reveal his anger, just subtle, gradual tears that fill this silence between him and Emma. (Sidenote: Tom’s pauses and silences are never just that; he fills them in with an expression, an emotion or even an open mouth and raised eyebrows in his stillness). I’d also like to add that my brother hadn’t read the play, but by the end of the performance he asked, “did Robert really cheat on Emma or was he just saying that?” In the script, of course it is never confirmed for sure, but we take it as a fact, as the truth of the matter. But the way Tom plays him, you feel sorry for him, and you do really start to wonder what if this is also part of this persona, this reputation that Robert has built for himself? Robert seems to be precisely the kind of character who would tell his wife that HE’S been cheating on her when it is revealed to him that SHE’S been cheating on him; just to seem invulnerable, just so that no one can sense him breaking.

One of my favorite uses of both the revolving stage and the third “other” on stage was the scene when Emma and Jerry are in their flat and Robert revolves around the stage sitting in a chair, holding his daughter. This was by far my favorite scene, and it isn’t even part of the script and it isn’t even technically Robert’s scene. But it adds another revelatory layer to what lies underneath Robert’s persona. Here is a father, holding onto his child, laying his cheek against her forehead. His expression is tranquil, but you sense a sadness in it, a sort of hidden worry. He’s holding her tight, and at one point, he looks down at her then lays his cheek back against her head, and in this moment, it feels as if he’s trying to protect her from the world, from himself, from his and her mother’s mistakes. He cares and he cares deeply, even if his conversation with Jerry says otherwise. This isn’t just a betrayal happening between three people, the consequences of it become the children’s problem. They are involved in a way that they never asked to be, and suddenly, you have a clear picture of who the real victim is ... it’s not Robert, it’s not Emma, and it’s not Jerry ... it’s their children. Of course, I can’t ever really know what or how Tom felt about this, but I sensed that there must have been something of himself directly in this scene. He is a child of divorce himself and he’s talked briefly in the past about how that affected him and shaped him and even that acting became his escape at a young age as a consequence of his parent’s separation. You know when people ask “if you could go back and visit your younger self what would you say?” In that scene, I felt as if this little girl was representative of Tom’s younger self, on a personal level. And this must’ve contributed to the way he approached this moment; it was deeply felt and incredibly heartbreaking.

The dinner scene:

There isn’t much I can say of this iconic melon and prosciutto dinner scene that hasn’t already been said. From the Evening Standard: There’s a brilliant scene that demonstrates [Tom’s] usually under-exploited flair for comedy. With emphasis on UNDER-EXPLOITED please exploit it PLEASE DO you won’t be sorry, clearly. He’s funny without trying to be, he imitates Jerry’s laugh sarcastically and the audience breaks into full on resounding laughter, even his pauses show a comedically reserved anger as he stares at Jerry with wide eyes and a haunting smile. All this passive aggressiveness being so much more comedic than it really ought to be and you start to wonder how Jerry is just sat there without a clue. Also, throughout this scene, there were moments where tom’s eyes twitched as you sensed Robert’s rage build up. Just like this, just like with here:

And I don’t know if this is involuntary on tom’s part or not (I think it must have been), but it added so much to the heat of the scene.

1968:

My goodness, even the ending was laden with creative choice that veered off script, again, in a way that only made it better. In the very final bit of the very last scene, Robert is supposed to clasp Jerry's shoulder, briefly, turns, leaves the room. Emma moves towards the door. Jerry grasps her arm. She stops still. They stand still, looking at each other. Robert is meant to leave the room before Emma gives in, but he doesn’t. In this production, Robert grabs Emma’s hand as he’s leaving the room. Jerry grabs her other hand quickly and Robert stops, facing the direction of what would be the door to exit. Emma looks at Jerry and all three of them are connected, literally arm in arm. They stand there motionless. A portrait of Betrayal ... if Harold Pinter’s Betrayal was to be painted on a canvas, I truly think this final moment of this final scene would have been it ... the perfect summation, and this production in itself plays out as if a work of art had come to life.

Stage door:

So, yes, I did get a picture with Tom. It was very brief, because I was very shy and honestly, I expected nothing less of myself. Now, I don’t have twitter or Instagram and I don’t post any pictures of myself online, so I have completely cropped myself out of my picture with Tom. And I know this means people might think I was lying, but that doesn’t matter to me. You can choose to believe me or you can choose not to, I can’t really convince you of this, nor do I really even wish to. You can still kind of see my shoulder and my purse strap and burgundy/ maroon scarf (I wore burgundy on purpose because I was hoping to match up with Tom in his burgundy jumper, but alas, it was pretty cold outside and his coat was buttoned up). Before he stepped out, I had this simple little gif/interview related gift I wanted to give him. I kept taking it out of my purse and putting it back in until I finally decided that I was an idiot and if I gave Tom this gift, he’d think I was dumb so, I put it away. Now, of course, I live with the regret that I didn’t give it to him in my lack of confidence. But when I came up to him, I said “hi” he said “hello, how are you?” and then like a frantically shy girl, I quickly handed him my program then asked “can I take a photo with you?” he said “yea, sure” and I handed him the phone (again frantically) and he took the picture. It was incredibly brief, but I will say this, he definitely IS in fact even more beautiful in person.. somehow, he just is. We all know how beautiful Tom’s speaking voice is, but he’s also very soft-spoken and his voice sounds like that of someone who can do no harm. And I’ll also say this, as I walked off onto the other side of the street after having taken my picture with Tom, I remembered this quote of his that I read before: It’s not that you change but people around you change and that takes some getting used to. It has to do with visibility and anonymity. It’s odd. There’s a before-and-after. Before is you walk into a room and you meet someone and they don’t know you and you don’t know them and you get to know each other. The after is you walk into a room and you meet someone and they know who you are and you don’t know them and that interaction is changed as you get to know each other. Off of me briefly meeting him and just standing on the other side seeing him meet other fans, you definitely get this sense of an attempt at normalcy from him. He approaches you the way you approach him, if you’re shy, he’s not making as much eye contact and he seems to be just really humble as if he’s thinking “you need not be shy of me, but how can I possibly convince you of that?” If you talk with him, he talks back, he holds a normal if even brief conversation with you (although the security guards ask the fans to be mindful of those behind them that also want to meet Tom). So yea, I wish I was confident enough to tell him how creative and artistic and heartfelt this production and his performance were and how lucky I felt to have been a part of his audience, but I’m happy to have even met him at all.

Some other things from when I stood on the other side of the street after my picture: This guy standing on the other side with us shouted “TOM YOU’RE CLASSICALLY HANDSOME” and Tom made this face, this questioning expression with a smile and said “thanks” or “thanks, man.” A white car (maybe a taxi?? drove by the stage door and stopped, did a double take, I guess trying to figure out what this crowd was queued up for on both ends of the street (or maybe just in awe of Tom if they knew who Tom was. Who knows?) and Tom leaned his head over while signing and said “Hello” with this big, calm smile on his face as if to say he completely understood the hilarity of the situation.

There's a bit in the BBC Only Artists radio interview between Tom and Nicholas Britell where Britell talks about the odd feeling of being a composer when you know there were all these greats before you and Tom says "Well, at this point, we're all just remixing; we're all sampling and remixing. It's all been done." If this production of Betrayal can be considered a remix to the script, it would definitely be better than the original. So that was my not-at-all brief account of Betrayal + stage door and if I had the chance to go see this play again, I would do so, over and over and over again and I don’t think I’d ever really get tired of it to be honest.

#tom hiddleston #betrayal #betrayal stage door #hiddlestoners #hiddlesedit #my text #*

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pjbehindthesun · 5 years ago

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chapter 28: rock, paper, scissors, shoot

(okay, I finally gave up on this impossibly long chapter that was taking me forever to complete and split it into two chapters so I’d have something to show for myself after such a long break. so here’s the first part. my apologies if this approach makes for an underwhelming update. here goes... something.)

Monday, November 12th, 1990

That wasn’t so bad. I mean, we were all pretty loose, so there were plenty of fuck-ups, which would ordinarily make me crazy, but perfection wasn’t the point of this show. That was never the point. Andy wouldn’t have given a shit about it, anyway. He was always able to roll with absolutely anything that happened and pull it off as though he’d planned it the whole time. Even though we just stepped off the stage, I’ve already forgotten the finer details of what we played or how we sounded. It already feels like a dream that’s slipping away the moment you wake up and try to pin down what was so memorable about it. All I’m hanging onto is the feeling that it was fucking fun, that the people here understood why we did it. I think he would have loved it.

And, bonus: at least I remembered to wear pants this time. Nothing worse than playing a show and looking down at your guitar halfway through to realize you forgot to put on pants and the whole room’s just staring at your underwear. Brutal.

Pushing my way further and further out from the stage isn't helping me regain my sense of clarity. People keep clapping me on the back, talking to me as I move by them, but I don’t recognize anyone, and the crush of people just gets denser, hotter, less familiar. More striking than anyone’s features is the glare from the disco ball, which keeps fucking up my equilibrium and making it that much harder to focus. Everyone’s shouting, god, why is it so fucking loud in here? and it feels like someone’s calling me, but I can’t figure out who, or from where. Everyone’s voice kinda sounds like Charlie Brown’s parents… distorted, underwater… except for that nagging feeling that someone’s calling my name, clear as a bell, and I can’t figure out who…

Until a hand, smaller, with fingers that somehow manage to feel chilly despite the stifling heat in this place, slips into mine, lacing our fingers tightly before pulling my arm nearly out of its socket, and I break into a smile. None of the faceless people around me indicate that the hand is theirs, but that’s okay, I know exactly whose it is as it makes every effort to pull me off my feet unless I finally start moving and follow it. That’s fair. You got me. We’ve stalled long enough. “Sorry, excuse me, sorry,” I offer again and again as I stumble through the herd, shouldering past strangers, laughing in delirium, squinting ahead to try to get a glimpse of her as she tows me in her wake, but I can’t see shit, so it’s a wasted effort, at least until we get a little farther out from the center of the crowd. Where are we even going? Ah, fuck it, just let it happen. I’ve got a good feeling about it.

Sure enough, the sea of people thins out just enough that I can see my own hand, holding tightly to the one directing me on a circuitous path all throughout the room, and I let my gaze follow up along the arm it’s attached to: the arm wearing a much-too-big green sweater with the cuffs rolled up, the long red hair swaying to the quick rhythm of her gait, occasionally allowing the smallest glint of a tiny, brass, star-shaped earring if she turns her head just slightly, so fleeting that there’s no way I’d know what shape it was unless I already knew it was there, but of course I do. My laughter gets louder, and she doesn’t turn around, but her voice floats over her shoulder and into my ears with perfect clarity, cutting through any other noise even though it’s barely above a whisper.

“Shut up, Stone, let’s get out of here.”

“This isn’t the way outside…”

“Did I say it was?”

She’s dragged me back toward the stage, or behind it, and we’re squeezing behind an amp and a partial curtain into the world’s tiniest alcove. I didn’t know this was even here… how did she even know this was here? How does she always know? It’s so dark behind the curtain that I can’t even see her anymore, but I don’t need to, not once her arms are wound around my neck and her lips are on mine. The outcome is inexorable. I’m not going to put up a fight. I’ve got her skirt tugged up to her hips… it’s always the same skirt, every time, and thank god for that… and she’s just begun to unbuckle my belt when deafening sirens assault my ears and break my concentration. What the fuck? Who called the cops? Wait a minute… this is the fucking Off Ramp, not some baby teenage all-ages show, a raid doesn’t even make any sense, unless…

...it’s my alarm clock. Fuck.

That’s the third time in a week I’ve had this exact same dream. I close my eyes and sink back into the pillow, trying to hang onto the fading vividness of it, while at the same time feeling like an absolute moron for savoring this ridiculous fantasy my subconscious is so fond of. We’re in such a weird place right now, me and Cora. Who knows what the hell's gonna happen at the show tomorrow night, but definitely not that. No way. I mean, not that I’d protest if it did, but I’m pretty sure she’s too busy pretending I don’t exist to have time to drag me into a darkened corner and have her way with me.

Jesus, we’ve really made a mess of this whole thing. I don’t think she said a single word to me last night. I kept trying to get her attention, but she acted like I wasn’t even there! I'd even planned to try to ditch everyone else at the end of the night so I could get her alone for thirty seconds, but after receiving her silent treatment, I chickened out. I'm not exactly proud of myself, but what would I have even said? That I’m sorry I’ve made everything so awkward lately, that I was hoping to slow things down between us just a little bit but not All The Way Down, that I really want to talk to her, that there’s no rush, that she just needs to tell me when she’s ready and I’ll be here?

...wait, actually, that’s probably a pretty good idea…

Enough of this shit. I pick up the phone and punch in her number, but the sound of her answering machine after the fourth ring takes the wind out of my sails. Still, I’ve got to say something, the tape’s already picked up…

***

“Hey, Eddie!”

“Huh? Oh, hey.” I look up from the hallway carpet pattern to acknowledge the person I almost ran into: a sweaty, panting Cora, obviously just back from a run and waiting for me to get out of the way of her door. “Sorry,” I offer as I edge over to the other side of the hallway and try to keep going. Of all the people to run into, the person I always accidentally say too much around is the worst case scenario right now. I can’t catch a fucking break.

“You’ve got the worst timing, you know that?” she grins as she fumbles for her door key.

“What do you --”

“Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s kind of comforting at this point. I just feel like I always run into you at the worst possible times, like, some kind of terrible shit’s just happened in my personal life, or I look like I’ve been dragged by a city bus for sixteen blocks,” she waves lazily at her appearance with her free hand, glancing over with that characteristic Cheshire Cat look still plastered on her face. “Don’t know if I’ve ever actually told you that, but you have the worst timing in the world. It’s like you have some kind of ‘not right now’ sensor.”

“I can fucking relate,” I mutter bitterly, sidestepping past her.

“Hey! Get back here!”

Her shout sets my teeth on edge. I should just keep walking. I should just keep walking. I should just get in my fucking truck and start driving. But something makes me stop, turn, and stare at her shoes.

“Look, Cora, it’s just not a good time, alright?”

“You could have just said that.”

“I’m pretty sure I just did.”

“Well you don’t have to bite my head off about it, I’m not trying to keep you against your will! And not that it matters now, but I actually meant it as a compliment.”

“Yeah, you’ve got a funny way of paying people compliments.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m still punishing you for calling me diplomatic.”

“Won’t make that mistake again.”

She heaves a deep sigh, and I watch her sneakers shuffle as her posture shifts. “I meant it, Eddie, it’s always good to see you. Even when it’s not. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to start a fight, it just came out wrong.”

“Yeah… okay. Look, I should probably be going…”

“What’s going on, bud, you okay?”

When I finally force myself to look up at her face, it’s creased with something more like concern than the hostility I’d expected, and I feel my shoulders drop from my ears. I hadn’t even realized how tightly I’d been holding them there. I let my hands flex, aware now that they’d been balled up into fists. What an idiot. Of all the people I’d like to have a shouting match with right now, Cora’s pretty far down the list.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just… tired. You’re the same way, you know? You’re always running into me in the wrong place at the wrong time too.” I try for a smile, but it must be a pretty pitiful attempt, because it makes her crack up into that slightly husky laugh of hers.

“Terrible timing is our superpower, I guess.”

“Guess so,” I concede, except to me, it’s not really all that terrible. The thing about this woman is that she always turns the wrong place at the wrong time into someplace that’s worth inhabiting. She always manages to pick me up and dust me off and make me feel like everything’s going to be okay. I have no idea how she does that, but I’m not about to try to admit it to her right now.

“So you’re fleeing town, I take it?”

“What?”

One eyebrow shoots up. “Your bag?”

“Oh. Uh, no, I'm driving back to San Diego tonight. To get the rest of my stuff." I wave my little duffel bag forward like a white flag, a plea for forgiveness after having been such a grouchy bastard.

"Didn't you already do that?"

“Well, I did one trip, yeah, but not everything fit in my truck the first time, so my buddy’s been holding onto some of it for me. And… uh, Beth called him this weekend, she found some of my stuff mixed in with hers, you know, records and some other things I actually want back, so I kinda feel like I should…"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

“Is she gonna meet you to give it back, or...?”

“No, that’s the kicker, she gave it all to him already, said there wasn’t any point in us seeing each other.”

“Fuck. That’s kind of harsh.”

“You’re telling me.”

“And will this be another pharmacologically enhanced journey?” She mimes hand tremors.

“Nah, I’ll be good.”

“‘Good’ being defined as someone who pulls over onto the side of the road to take a nap like a normal human being, right? So I don’t have to delve into the dark arts and resurrect you from the dead just to kill you for being a fucking impulsive idiot, right?” The tremors start creeping toward my throat menacingly, and I can’t help laughing as I try to bat them away.

“On my idiot honor.”

“K. Good to know I still terrify you,” she nods approvingly as she drops her hands.

She does terrify me. Yet another thing I can’t admit. You’d have to be a much more committed idiot than me not to recognize Stone’s feelings for her, and I’m not about to let this little fascination of mine make waves with my new bandmate. It’s just a phase. A phase with the worst timing in the world.

“But hey, this means you’ll have to fill me in on every detail of the show tomorrow night,” I plead.

“Uh huh.” Cora starts fidgeting with her keys again.

“You’re going, aren’t you?”

“Uh, I haven’t decided. I have a lot of work to do this week, and extra shifts at Cyclops to make up for last week, and…”

“...and I’m pretty sure both Chris and Stone will never forgive you if you don’t go, and neither will I, since I need the full report, so just accept your fate already.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps defiantly, but her face is pure mischief again as she opens her door and looks up. “Want me to earn some bad karma in exchange for Beth’s while you’re gone? I could put her number inside the mens’ bathroom door at the Off Ramp? You know, ‘for a good time, call...’”

My jaw drops, but I can’t stop myself from laughing. “Don’t! That’s diabolical!”

“Or maybe I could interest you in a donation to the Seattle Zoo in her honor?”

“A charitable contribution? Not that I’m arguing, but how exactly is that karmic justice?”

“They might be willing to name their most disgusting sea slug after her? Come to think of it, I don’t know the going rate for christening a sea slug, but it can’t be that expensive, right?”

“Ha, you sound like you’ve given this revenge concept a fair amount of thought…”

“Oh, never mind, you’re probably one of those boring decent human being types who takes the best revenge by falling in love again and being all happy and living some kind of long, fulfilling life, huh?”

I study my own shoes this time, trying not to smile too crazily. “One can only hope.”

“Drive safe, bud. I’ll miss you at the show.”

One last Cheshire Cat grin is visible along her profile before she disappears into her apartment. With a big sigh, I continue my trajectory down the stairs and back into the mess of my old life. At least now I’ve got some more uplifting thoughts to mull over on my long drive.

***

Only after a horrifically wasteful long, hot shower do I notice the light on my answering machine. Hmph. I wonder how many messages have racked up since whenever the last time was that I checked it. I haven't been home a lot lately, thanks to playing catch-up everywhere else -- the lab, the cafe, my friendships… at least, those friendships that seem to miss me… at any rate, it’s probably good for me to be away from this apartment as much as I can. It feels so alien now. Sterile. It probably mostly feels that way because I’ve been cleaning it obsessively whenever I have any downtime, but it’s hard to ignore how silent living alone is. I’ve never had to do that before. I used to think I’d be really good at living alone, I mean, Alex was hardly ever around when he did live here, so what difference does it make now that he’s moved out? Logically, it shouldn’t matter at all, but the bewildering vastness of a double bed that’s officially single-occupancy, the sink that stays clean after I do the dishes, the gap-toothed voids on the shelves where his things used to be, all team up to make the absence unmistakable. It’s too quiet and too clean here without him. Not that having him around would make my life any better. I don’t really miss him, but there’s this weird Alex-shaped hole in my life now.

It feels forbidden to push play on the answering machine, like I’m making too much noise in church, but I have a sudden and violent need to fill this place with something different.

A sharp, throat-clearing cough is the first sound that greets my ears. Recognizing instantly who the cough came from, I freeze up and start to chew my nails.

"Hey, Cora, uh, sorry, guess you already left… I only tried calling this early because I figured you'd still be at home. Uh…"

As Stone fumbles his words, I feel an intense desire to scoop each one up and hold onto them, turn them over in my hands, inspect them, stash them in my pockets for safekeeping. I really miss the sound of his stupid voice.

"I was… I was actually hoping to talk to you last night, but y'know, with everyone around, I didn't want to…"

He trails off as though his meaning is obvious, but I want to reach through the phone and rattle him by his bony shoulders. WHAT? You didn't want to what? What couldn’t you say with everyone around? Why couldn’t you just shake them off and come back? Why can't you just say it now? Spit it out, Stoner!

"Anyway, I just wanted to call and make sure you were coming to the show tomorrow. It's just… it's not a big deal or anything, it's just kind of a big deal to me that you're there, you know?"

Oh. I mean, obviously, that was all it was. Just calling around to make sure people show up tomorrow night. I'm sure he and the guys have all been making the rounds. I shouldn't have expected anything different, honestly. I bet he called every single person he knows.

But is it a big deal to him that every single person he knows is there? Or is it just a big deal that I’m there?

God, I need to get over myself, why would it matter to him if I’m there? That’s not the reason I should go to the show. I should go to support him. To support all of them. My friends. That’s what tomorrow’s about. It’s not about… whatever this is… or was, or… what is it now, anyway? I wish I could just talk to him about it, I wish…

I run out of time to angst, because his perfunctory message wraps up and I’m just contemplating saving this tape so I can replay it over and over to continue my obsessive analysis when the next message starts. A dry voice, with dry information. It’s the women’s health clinic I went to last week. My test results came back all clear, and they’re just calling to double-check the address of the pharmacy where I want my birth control prescription renewed. This set of sentences layers over top of the fresh memory of Stone’s voice in a way that makes my stomach fill with butterflies. Juvenile, maybe, but not unwelcome. But the next sound on the tape dissolves the butterflies in a churn of acid.

“Hey, C….” Alex’s voice drapes itself over the tape in his usual bored, lazy tone. He’s overdoing it. It makes me wince. “How’s things?”

He waits, like he’s expecting an answer, and the silence in the apartment feels even more uncomfortable now that it’s been broken by his voice again. “I was just calling to give you my new number, if you want it, it’s --”

I don’t. I don’t! Why the hell would I want your new number?

“It’s, uh, well, it’s the number at Cindy’s place, I… I’m living here now, we, uh... just, if you need to find me for any reason.”

I won’t. There’s no reason, ever, not ever. Get out of here, get out, stop talking, get out of my apartment…

“Uh, I think I saw you at the grocery store the other day. You looked… you looked really good. At least I’m pretty sure it was you. Heh, it’s hard to miss all that beautiful red hair. I didn’t want to come up and say hi, I figured I’d just be bothering you, but I just wanted you to know… you looked great. Seeya round, C.”

The last message ends. I look down at the small cassette in my hands, already ejected from the machine with its ribbon unspooled and crushed in my fist, wondering dimly how it got there so fast. It’s not important now. There’s something else I need to take care of. My numb fingers deposit the tape in the trash, grab the kitchen scissors, and let down my soaking wet hair on the way to the bathroom.

***

Tuesday, November 13th, 1990

“What’s on your mind?”

I glance over at Jeff as we walk back to our building from the court, trying not to beam too openly as he goofs off with the ball and showcases a Globetrotters spin on his index finger. I’m not sure what the statute of limitations is for harboring a rampant schoolgirl crush on your own boyfriend, but it hasn’t expired yet. He always thinks these games of one-on-one basketball are his idea and that I’m just humoring him by playing along. But the truth is that I’ll gladly soak up any opportunity to marvel at the spectacle of him showing off. I’m dating an athlete? A tall, gorgeous, kind, sensitive, artistic athlete? What parallel universe am I in? Guys like Jeff are never interested in me. It still doesn’t feel real.

“I still can’t believe you let me win.”

“I still can’t believe you don’t believe me. I got my ass handed to me back there! And I’m not talking about the groping,” he adds as my hand pats around to make sure his ass is still in place.

“You’re a liar, Ament. I love you for it, but you’re a damn dirty liar.”

“Am not. You’re just a way better ball-handler than I’ll ever be.”

“I was talking about the basketball game.”

“So was I… mostly.”

“God, you have a one-track mind.”

“At least you always know what’s on it. So?”

Jeff tucks the basketball under one arm and snakes the other arm around my waist. I always have to stretch out my stride to keep up with him when we walk this way, but it’s worth it to be able to lean into his solid, reassuring frame. Even if we’re both in bad need of a shower before his show tonight. Not that I’m complaining about that being next on our agenda.

“So what?”

“So, moving in together. Have you given it any more thought or not?”

Damn it. I knew he was going to bring it up again eventually, I mean, in fairness, I’ve left him no choice. I’ve acted for a week like he never said anything, and he’s been a gentleman not to hassle me about it. I was just kinda hoping he could keep being gentlemanly and stolid about it forever and save me the trouble of ever making up my mind.

“Of course I have.”

“And? What do you think?”

“I think…I need more time to think about it.”

He deflates against my shoulder. “What’s to think about? You love me, right?”

“Of course.”

“We spend all our time together.”

“As much as humanly possible.” I snuggle him tighter, hoping to squeeze more confidence into him.

“This is the best relationship I’ve ever been in, I don’t plan on it ever ending.”

“Well that’s good, because you’re definitely stuck with me.”

“So? Moving in’s the next logical step.”

“But just because something’s the next logical step, doesn’t mean you have to take it right away, right?”

“...no…”

“I mean, why mess with a good thing? What if we move in together and it screws the whole dynamic up, and we suddenly realize we hate each other?”

Jeff stops in his tracks. “Do you think that’s likely?”

“No! No, I’m not saying that’ll happen, just… everything’s so good right now, why do we need to change it?” I tug on his tree-like midsection to get him to start walking again, and he obliges.

“Because what if the change is even better? Isn’t it a much more likely scenario that we’ll be really good at this whole living together thing?”

“Sure.”

“So why not just do it?” he huffs, sounding increasingly frustrated as we turn the last street corner and our building looms into view, as if it’s eavesdropping on our conversation.

“I… just… I don’t know, if it isn’t broken…”

“But we hardly ever spend time separately in our own apartments when we’re both home.”

“No, but it’s kinda nice that we have the option…”

“Is paying rent twice really worth the option? Is it that important to you to be able to get away from me?”

“Hey! Don’t do that.” I’m the one who stops dead this time, dropping my arm from his waist. “It’s not about wanting to get away from you, I just… I like having the option to keep my own space, to change my mind if we need to blow off steam, or --”

“God, Lucy, you’re so…”

“So what??”

“So… stubborn! It’s the exact same with work! You hate your job, you know you want to do something else, you even know what you want that something else to be, you have a career path all picked out, so why don’t you fuckin’ go after it?”

“Uhhh, because it’s a lot of additional classes and loans? And I’ve only been out of school a couple years and I’m enjoying not being a student for the first time ever? And my job may be boring but it pays well? And it’s fine for now, and I like the way my life is now? And it’s none of your damn business and you have no right to pressure me?”

His face crumples in on itself, and I instantly feel horrible for unloading on him like that, even though he gave as good as he got. When he speaks again, his voice is more subdued.

“I’m sorry, babe, I just… I don’t get it. I don’t get not going for the things you want, I don’t get wasting time if you want to change a situation, I don’t… I just don’t get it.”

I do. Well, I get where he’s coming from, at least. I know how many times he’s had the rug pulled out from under him when he worked hard for something he wanted. I know he’s lost people he’s close to. I know where this carpe diem thing comes from. But just because I get it, that doesn’t mean I have to abide by the same code. What if my version of carpe diem looks different than his? I wish he could get that into his head. But I’m turned inside out from our first real fight, so spitting out any kind of coherent explanation feels impossible.

“I know. Just give me a little more time.”

Jeff nods, accepting defeat, or at least a truce, and we plod up the stairs together in silence. I decide to stop at the third floor and let him go on to the fourth, because if ever there was a time to take advantage of having separate corners to cool down in, it’s now. We’re going to the show at separate times anyway. He doesn’t argue. He just shrugs and heads on without me.

But I don’t key into my own place. I listen to his footsteps, wait for the sound of a door upstairs, count to ten, take a deep breath, and start up after him. This whole issue is so fucking stupid, why are we fighting about it? Obviously I love him and he loves me, and this is just a dumb misunderstanding of each other's priorities. I should just go spit it out, right? He'll understand, right?

Instead, I find myself stopped short in front of Cora's door. I know I should go talk to Jeff, but no one understands me quite like she does, and I really just want a sympathetic ear. As usual, her door is unlocked, and as usual, I let myself in like I live here, basking in the familiarity, in the reassurance of a known quantity, until…

“Oh… my god… Cora... WHAT the FUCK did you do with your hair????”

#it's not even proofread... ugh #but i do what i can okay?#chapter 28 #behind the sun #fanfiction #fanfic #pearl jam #stone gossard #eddie vedder #jeff ament

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asteriskemily · 5 years ago

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The Five People Duck Fell For

(And The One Who, Quite Literally, Picked Him Up)

Here’s a kinda shitty, but kinda okay fic that I wrote because I didn’t know that needed Waynerva until Justin handed it to me on a silver platter.

If Wayne Newton has to real think about it, he would say that his first crush was on Danny Keil in the second grade. They lived in the same cul-de-sac and their mothers were both on the PTA, so they were often made to spend time together. They walked to school together, they ate lunch together, and they played tag together. It was the perfect friendship for two eight year old boys.

Danny moved away in the third grade. His mom was still around, but Wayne would never again see Danny. Wayne’s mom told him that Danny’s parents got divorced. Wayne didn’t know what that meant, but he knew that Danny was gone.

Wayne hadn’t realized that it was a crush at the time. He barely knew what a crush was and when he learned what it was, he didn’t know he could have one on a boy. By the time he recognized what it had been, Wayne had already been taught that boys liking boys was a bad thing, so he chose to avoid thinking about his first friend.

Wayne had his first kiss at a birthday party in the fifth grade and it was the beginning of his whirlwind romance with Becky Emberson. They shared pudding cups and pushed each other on the swings during recess and once Wayne gave her a dandelion on Valentine’s Day to show that he really loved her.

Becky’s favorite subject was art and Wayne’s was English and, because of that, Becky said that they were too different and that they had to break up. Wayne was absolutely heartbroken. One month later Juno Devine came to Kepler with three things that Wayne found fascinating: a Polaroid camera, a Walkman, and a love for nature that he had never seen in anyone else. Juno became his best friend and together they sat in the woods, listening to R.E.M. and taking stupid pictures of each other. Wayne made silly faces at the camera and when the picture came sliding out of it Juno laughed and said that his mouth looked like a duck’s bill. She took a pen and wrote, under the picture, Wayne “The Duck” Newton. The nickname stuck.

Tabatha and all of her friends were attractive, popular, and loaded. He asked her out on a dare and was shocked when she actually said yes. They went to a drive in movie theater that was just outside of town and made out in her car while The Empire Strikes Back played in the background. They dated for three months and neither of them found the relationship particularly interesting. She took him skiing on his 18th birthday and he fell down the mountain and nearly broke his legs. He then limped to the Wolf Ember and had his first ever bowl of French onion soup and it changed his life. She found him there, eating soup and trying not to break down in tears at its glory. She drove him home in silence and they both knew that this would be their last date.

That same night a blue woman who was maybe a ghost or maybe computers told him that he was destined for greatness, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the soup and the math test he had on Tuesday and how he wasn’t the right guy to save the world.

Duck wanted to get as far away from Kepler as he could. Away from the people he was only half-friends with, away from the mom that called Juno a dead beat just because she didn’t fit the perfect standard of what she thought a girl should be, away from whatever destiny he may or may not actually have. The farthest he could get was Marshal University. Even if he wasn’t so far from Kepler, it was like a whole other world. A world with less stress about destinies and more cell service. A world where he didn’t feel terrified when he was calling that cute boy he met at the campus bar and asking him out on a date. Duck Newton dated Charlie Wallace for nearly three years before he got a letter from his little sister that told him that their mom had died in a car crash.

That same day, Duck packed his bags and bought a bus ticket back to Kepler. He told Charlie goodbye and they both knew that they wouldn’t be able to keep in touch. When Duck got to Kepler he hugged June and they both cried. Their dad died when they were little and now their mom was gone too. This was all the family that they had left.

Duck got an apartment and a job and he finished college online. June went to school and tried to have normal life. Duck became a ranger and June made it all the way to Harvard to become a lawyer. Everything was normal. That is, until Duck had a dream about an archway made of stone and suddenly Minerva was back.

Duck thought that the mothman was hot. He may be just a regular guy now, but he was a regular guy who knew where the mothman lived. He went to knock on the door to the winnebago that Indrid lived in and it opened before his fist connected. Indrid smiled at him with a grin that seemed to wide to be human. This is because it in fact wasn’t human. Duck asked him out for coffee and Indrid agreed. They sat and talked about having visions of the future while they drank coffee and shared a scone.

It was the first date that either of them had been on in quite some time and as they walked back to the winnebago Indrid informed Duck that it was the last one that they would be going on together. He told Duck that there wasn’t a future where the two of them ended up together and that there was no point in delaying the inevitable. In the months following the date, Duck would think back to what Indrid said to him as he walked away, still wearing his too-wide, inhuman grin.

“So few people have true soulmates, Duck Newton. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

Minerva had been quiet lately. While she usually went through life roaring like a clap of thunder, since the end of the battle that she had been fighting for who knows how long, she was more silent. Duck didn’t necessarily think it was a bad thing. She seemed calm like she was finally at peace.

He came home to find Minerva laying on the floor with Moony the cat sitting proudly on her chest.

“Wayne Newton,” she chuckled at her own joke before it had the chance to come out of her mouth “I fear that this deceptively small beast has felled me. I lay here, trapped by its powerful grasp, unable to escape. Please, Wayne Newton, flee before you suffer the same fate.”

“I refuse to run and leave you behind, Minerva! I will save you!” Duck set down his groceries and playful ran to Minerva’s side. He crouched down and picked up Moony, then set her down on the ground. Moony ran off to scratch up Ducks pillows. He plopped down next to Minerva as she sat up.

“You have saved me, Wayne Newton. I am forever in your debt.” Minerva pushed herself off the floor and offered a hand to Duck. She pulled him up and put a hand on his shoulder. Her smile was brighter than any of stars in the universe.

“Would you help me with the groceries?” He asked. It was something easy, something normal. They both needed a lot more of that. For a little bit they worked in silence and then Minerva spoke up.

“I have something that I feel that I need to speak to you about, Wayne Newton.” She seemed serious and almost nervous. The tone made Duck nervous too.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He tried to seem calm as he set aside the ingredients for the soup that they would be attempting to make for dinner that night.

“Since we finally fulfilled our destinies things have been very calm.” She started. Duck nodded along, listening intently. “And I think that that is a good thing. It is nice to have the opportunity to be calm and to think about something other than a battle that is coming. And now that I’ve had that time to think, I’ve been thinking a lot about how lucky it was that I ended up choosing you. I know that it was a somewhat random choice, but I highly doubt that things would have gone the way that they did had it been anyone else.” For a moment she paused. She looked as though she was considering whether or not she was going to keep going. In the end she must have decided to continue.

“You are someone who is very important to me, Wayne Newton, and I cannot imagine a world where we never met. You changed my life. When I had chosen Leo, he was truly just a warrior that I was training, but when you and I started training together, you became friends. I am grateful that you taught me how to be someone’s friend again.” Duck smiled at her.

“I can’t imagine a life without you either, Minnie.” Duck had been thinking about this for some time now as well. “I-When we lost our connection, it was really hard for me. Not just because I wasn’t as tough as I usually am, but because I lost one of the most important people in my life. You showed upon

and you turned my whole world upside down and I’m so much better off because of that. I used to think that I was just a guy and then you told me that I could be more than that. Maybe at first I didn’t want to believe you, but it got to the point where I wanted to prove you right.” Suddenly Duck realized something and what Indrid told him finally made sense. He didn’t know what to say next, scared of what might happen. And then it was like Minerva had read his mind.

“I believe that I am in love with you, Wayne Newton, and If what I have observed about human romantic behavior is correct then I believe that this is the point at which I should be asking you on a date.” Minerva’s cheeks were growing darker as she spoke.

“I would like that.” All at once Duck was, quite literally, swept off of his feet as Minerva pulled him into a bear hug. Smiled and looked up at her as they settled into something that was less like her hugging him and more like her carrying him bridal style. “And hey, guess what.”

“What, Wayne Newton?”

“I love you too, Minnie.”

#taz #taz amnesty #taz spoilers #minerva taz #duck newton #waynerva #mineruck #whatever the ship name is #text #fic

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occasionalfics · 7 years ago

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The Arrow and the Flame, xxviii

part xxvii

Summary: An encrypted message finally brings change.

A/N: I’m kinda sorry but mostly just sad that this is over now? I always feel like there are lots of things I wanted to accomplish but didn’t when I finish a story (I say always like I’ve finished hundreds of stories and novels but really this is the third full fic I’ve finished in probably 7 or 8 years). Anyway, I’ve got a Kraglin x Reader coming up soon (I have a page count in mind I’d like to hit before I start posting)!

Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me. It’s been awesome, and your feedback’s helped more than I can say. <3

Tags: @thewildomega @pitrymcbride @fandommemporiumm @grippleback-galaxy

Words: 1,358

~~~

It was only a few days later that you got an encrypted message from a talking Terran raccoon. He didn’t seem to know he didn’t reach Stakar directly, but it didn’t matter, as the message was pre-recorded by the time you got it.

“Captain Ogord, this is Rocket. The blue idiot...Yondu…” he said, his snout dropping into a frown. Behind him, you saw Kraglin, dirty and defeated, blankly staring into a metal wall. “I know you assholes exiled the idiot.”

“Quit callin’ him that!” Kraglin yelled, but his expression didn’t change and he didn’t look over.

You walked into the cockpit, eyes glued to the halo pad.

“Shut up!” the Raccoon yelled, then he turned his attention back to the camera. “You gotta know what he did. Really did. He raised a kid once, something his own parents didn’t even do.”

“What is that?” your father asked from the Captain’s chair.

You went over to him and held the halo pad down far enough for him to watch as well.

“Is that a raccoon?” he asked, looking up at you.

You shrugged.

“That kid is Peter Quill, a Guardian of the Galaxy. Yondu...stars, that idiot,” he said, whispering the last words so Kraglin wouldn’t hear. “Whatever you assholes exiled him for, you better make reparations now. It’s already too late for that. Yondu’s dead. He helped us get rid of Ego and made a choice between saving himself and Quill.”

You almost dropped the halo pad. You hadn’t felt anything - there was no searing pain in your wrist your or heart, not until now anyway. You hadn’t sensed his life end. Your mark had failed you, or...or maybe it stopped working. Maybe that was how the marks worked - they only functioned if both soulmates were alive.

You stopped thinking. You were hardly listening. Your father grabbed the pad before it hit the floor, and the raccoon went on.

“He gave his life for that kid. Guess he was tryin’a make up for some shit in his life or something. I know you Ravager assholes have some stupid funeral rites or...whatever. I’m sending our coordinates to you now. Whatever Yondu did in the past...he’s made up for it with his life.”

There it was - the stinging pain. It was cold. Your lungs felt heavy. Your wrists were like ice, and you couldn’t blink. You’d never felt so stuck, so lost, and so pained all at once, not even when he’d been exiled. Everything hurt. Existing hurt.

And then it was all gone. You let out a scream, unable to stop yourself. You knew he was gone now, especially since your body felt like half of it had been ripped off and thrown into a dark abyss of absolute nothingness. You knew how dramatic that sounded, but you didn’t care. You brought your wrist to your chest and fell forward, putting your forehead against the cold metal floor of the ship.

“He…” you heard your father say.

You felt hard hands on you, pulling you up and against an equally hard body. Martinex’s clean scent filled your nose.

“You have to go out there,” you yelled, opening your eyes to glare at your father.

He looked at you over the arm of his chair, just staring for a minute. His graying hair reminded you of the time that had passed, of how long it had been since you’d been with Yondu and of the fact that he was gone now. You’d never see him again if your father didn’t go and lead the funeral.

He looked at Martinex, then handed the halo pad over. “Get us there,” he said.

The hard body was gone then, and you fell back into a kneeling position. Your whole frame shook, but the pain was just a memory now. You were still cold. You craved his warmth, his smile, his gentle kisses. You hadn’t missed those in so long.

You replayed your father’s conversation with Yondu the other night. Everything about what they’d said felt wrong - so wrong. You should’ve gone with him instead of running. You could’ve kept him alive. You could’ve kept him from going out to Ego, from sacrificing himself for a kid you didn’t even know.

No, you couldn’t, you told yourself. You’d missed so much of his life; you didn’t know what he’d done or who he was anymore. You hated that. You hated the distance, the time, the circumstances. But all you could do about it was make sure he forgave you in the afterlife.

“(Y/N),” you heard.

You looked up at your father, who reached down to cup your cheek. He hadn’t done that since you were a little girl. You leaned into his palm, savoring his warmth because it was all you had.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “We should’ve fought for him. We should’ve sought him out and forgiven him.”

You didn’t nod or shake your head or say a word. You didn’t think your father believed his own words. The Alliance was his brain child, its rules his pride and joy. He never would’ve broken them to excuse a Captain. You knew by then that, if he had, the whole institution would mean nothing.

“You couldn’t before,” you said. “But you have to now.”

He nodded, then returned to the halo pad, which Martinex had apparently returned. He forwarded the message to the remaining 99 factions as Martinex navigated through jumps and clicks. You watched stars pass, wondering which ones had done this to you. Some cosmic entity had given you Yondu, and you wondered if it was the same one that took him away, too.

You closed your eyes and thought of him years ago. He was smiling at you, laughing at something you said, his crest lighting up the dark bedroom around you. His hands snaked around you, touching every part of you he could reach. He was perfectly imperfect, his uneven, mismatched smile charming you as it always did. And when he kissed you, your whole body ignited. You didn’t feel the vacuum of space against your face, just his wonderful tongue in your mouth. His taste and scent filled your whole being, and his fingers wiped your tears away.

When you opened your eyes again, you looked around your father’s console and out the window. You didn’t know how long you’d been traveling or where you were in the galaxy, but there was a small ship just a few clicks away. One after another, Ravager ships surrounded it - you recognized your mother’s ship, and Captain Charlie’s. You stood, ran to the window, and watched as each faction came into view.

The small ship in the center of everything opened a vent, and little by little, a trail of red ash pushed out into Space. Though there was no sound in the vacuum outside the window, your father turned the ancient intercom system on and began to play the Horns of Freedom, as you expected all the other ships did as well. One by one, each faction let off bursts of light in the colors of their faction: orange and purple, green and black (your mother’s colors), maroon and dark blue (your father’s colors, which you saw as they were pulled into the track of the ashes), yellow and black (Captain Charlie’s colors), etc. Your heart beat in time with the Horns, and you put your hands to the glass to watch it all.

As they curved away from the small ship, the ashes came to a point. It looked like his arrow, the one you’d given him a lifetime ago. You watched the arrow fly out into the galaxy, smiling as you knew he was headed for the afterlife. He’d be waiting for you there.

“He didn't let us down after all, Captain?” You heard Martinex ask.

Your throat tightened in the best way at your father’s response: “No he did not, son. He did not.”

You took in a ragged breath, sighed, and smiled as the last of the ash left the small ship. You said, “I’ll see you again, Yondu. I promise.”

#yondu x reader #the arrow and the flame #sfw

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just-miru · 3 years ago

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shit, i forgot the comic had a Wiki page :0

be prepared, 'cause here it comes-

William began studying in business and engineering at a university in Utah. It was here that he met his nerdy classmate Henry Emily, who was a sophomore while William was a freshman. The two almost immediately struck up a friendship and began studying together.

at least their friendship was real in the beginning :D

oh shit- i think i misread her name as 'Sammy' ^^"

me, an hour ago: i also think he did love her at some point. i mean, he still has her heart-locket - it must mean something beside being possibly expensive, who knows :0

me now, with knowledge on my side: it might not actually be the case, sadly :(

William met another classmate, an education major named Sunny, who quickly became obsessed with William because he was British and looked like a Beatle (same, Sunny, same). Mere weeks later, Sunny was pregnant. Oops!

i guess William used Sunny's obsession over him so he could hook up with her. it's possible he had to marry her just because he got her pregnant D:

we also have this panels

William was annoyed with her, that until she says they can "do something else" to celebrate William's achievement of the day - finally a reaction out of him.

ok, ok- this just makes me headcanon him as aromantic (this certainly isn't me projecting on William-). it can kinda work actually :0

he doesn't feel romantic attraction towards Sunny, but he is sexually attracted to her.

aaaahhh, idk how to explain it, but like, back then, i am sure people didn't know about aromanticism :0

i like to think that maybe, at first, he didn't understand what he was feeling towards her.

i mean- he wants to fuck her, let's get this out of the way. he already has children - he have a family.

then why doesn't he actually want to be with her? why does the thought of it just makes him feel... nothing? isn't this how things were supposed to go? isn't he supposed to be happy?

why does it feel like an obligation to be with her?

since i also think he isn't really in touch with his feelings, he gets overwhelmed very easily by this - so he takes it out on Sunny, acting like shit towards her.

i don't really know how to properly put this into words, but i hope it makes sense-

In June, Sunny gave birth to William's first child, Michael. Because Sunny was a diligent student in an intensive major, she spent most of her time in class - as a result, Michael was left to be raised by William, who didn't really want to raise him either, so he therefore passed most of the parental duties onto Henry, who managed to efficiently juggle schoolwork and caring for Michael like the fucking god he is.

i mean, it sure was better for Michael to be raised/taken care of by Henry, rather than having William do it, but Henry is just put under so much pressure-

noooo D:

Three years later, William failed to learn from his previous mistakes and Sunny had their second child, Elizabeth. Somehow, William, Sunny and Henry were all able to graduate. Henry, who was born and raised in a small town called Hurricane, decided to go back there to plan and open a business. William decided to go with him, and bought a house there. It was after this that he and Sunny finally got properly married, and a few years later had their third child, C.C.

was C.C and accident too, or did they actually want him-

As time passed, Henry began spending more time with his kids, balancing his work and home lives equally. William wasn't exactly a huge fan of this, not to mention that Charlie and Sammy were annoying as all fuck.

and from here on, the shit starts to go down-

no where on the wiki page is mentioned something about William actually caring about her, or at least trying to, just this-

In 1980, Sunny passed away after contracting food poisoning from one of William's shitty British cuisines. Even though William didn't really give a shit, he took her ashes and dumped them into Elizabeth's Hello Kitty lamp because he wasn't sure what else to do with them.

so yeah-

ok so, canonically speaking, and as we all know, Dave Miller is, in fact, William Afton

so, whatever William suffers from, so does Dave (and vice-versa, if u will)

then why is Dave allergic to cats-

but William isn't?

this is stupid, i know :'D

am i reading too much into something insignificant? yes, certainly

do i care? not even one bit-

#blueycapsules

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codependentsoulmates · 7 years ago

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RANKING EVERY SEASON OF SUPERNATURAL

Let’s a-freakin’-go, Mario.

12. Season 7. Leviathans. And Sam’s god-awful wolverine sideburns. ‘Nuff said.

11. Season 6. Soulless Sam was hilariously, sarcastically endearing for a little while, but towards the end of the Soulless Sam arc, just, ugh. I wanted to fast forward so bad. Samuel coming back was unnecessary and anticlimactic, “evil Cas” was an eye roller, I didn’t give a shit about Lisa and Ben, um... EVE??? What the actual fuck was that. She was possibly the single most wasted, ultra-super-anticlimactic use of a story arc that I’ve ever seen. There were a few redeeming episodes (i.e. Clap Your Hands If You Believe).

10. Season 9. Okay, this could be biased just based on how much I truly cannot stand God!Metatron. S10/11 Metatron is great; he’s such a little jerk that you cant help but find him funny. But S9 Metatron... holy shit. It was like being subjected to hours upon hours of having to watch only the Umbridge scenes from Harry Potter on repeat. It felt like legitimate torture trying to force myself to finish the season. Plus, yes, I ended up liking Gadreel later (much later) on, but Gadreel!Sam felt like it went on forever. I was over it and it was like the end of it would never come. Also, I’m just gonna say it: Abaddon was boring and annoying, and the only reason she was even an issue was because Sam and Dean thought, “Hey, wow, let’s experiment on the most powerful demon we know of roaming the Earth right now. We cut off her hands, nothing will go wrong!” Riiiight... okay. Also, Kevin’s death was seriously messed up and unnecessary and I still haven’t forgiven them for it, so. But uh, human!Cas was super endearing though, and even though I really don’t ever want actual human Cas to become a thing, it was cute for awhile.

9. Season 12. Alright. I don’t share the exact same sentiment or level of hatred that a lot of other people seem to for this season, but it had... a lot of issues. So, uh. Buckle up. First of all... Lucifer. While I don’t... hate the idea of him coming back as a villain, just so many things about this were... sigh. Rockstar!Lucifer was - and I’m gonna fucking say it - truly awful. So, so awful. Maybe he could’ve worked on another show, but with Lucifer’s character/personality having already been so established and defined on Supernatural, it just felt out of place. He was not the same character - which is something I often complain about with the Rubys. We had just come from Casifer - which was brilliant and so, so in character - and then we get this... weird, unsnarky, not sarcastic or playful at all version of Lucifer and... pass. Moving on... they finally get to put Luci back in his cage and... then Crowley decides to keep him as a pet? And believe Lucifer - fucking LUCIFER - now bows to him and won’t get away? And assume the demons who have time and time again always helped Lucifer, will now follow him instead? What??? Crowley isn’t that dumb, and he could’ve achieved ruling Hell again with no problems if Lucifer was in the cage. It made no sense to me. And um. Lucifer having a child? Seriously? So much reaching going on. Now to the second issue: The British Men of Letters. Okay. They started off as the enemy this season. The title sequence was the MoL symbol. And yet... they weren’t that relevant or threatening until the last couple of episodes (and those were, well, in nicer terms... questionable.) They either should’ve saved a Lucifer-returning-as-the-enemy storyline for later or saved the BMoL. Together, it was just too much and not enough expansion. Side note: I loathe the BMoL like I loathe God!Metatron. Which brings me to the third - and maybe biggest - issue I had with this season: Mary fucking Winchester. What the fuck. What the actual fuck, were the writers thinking. They legitimately ruined her. Throughout the series you have this wonderful idea built up about her: she was a badass hunter and she sacrificed things for John and she loved her boys so, so much and she gave up hunting for good because that was never the life she wanted and just. Then she’s here and you’re like finally Sam and Dean get to have a fucking parent who is there for them and can nurture them for once in their goddamn lives, and then. Then she’s a different Mary and she’s back to only caring about hunting even though she never liked hunting in the first place and she’s working for the people who tortured her son and she’s leaving her boys who just got her back, who she just got back, and she was going to let them die or get hurt for the goddamn Colt that she didn’t even know was the Colt. And I just. I couldn’t get with it, I’m sorry. Oh, and also everyone fucking DIES this season, so that was just fucking great, too.

8. Season 10. This is an unpopular opinion, I’m sure, but I hated Deanmon and I was glad we didn’t have to see him that long and suffer like we did with Soulless Sam. That being said, they did way overhype Deanmon, which was pretty uncool and unfair. But I honestly hated the Mark of Cain - it went on waaaaay too long - and I really, really dislike seeing Dean be... not Dean... so... Also, I am still pissed the fuck off at Charlie’s death, so I refuse to rank this any higher out of spite, too. But um. They killed fucking DEATH this season. And while I was actually really unhappy about it because Death was cool as hell, that scene with Sam like, just wrecked, and Dean’s “Close your eyes, Sammy” kinda made it really, really almost worth it. (You’ll soon realize I really only care a lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship and their Absolute Best Moments™ that wrench my heart.)

7. Season 8. Unfortunately, the writers decided hey, let’s ruin Sam’s character a little fucking more and write him as OOC as possible by having him not actually give a shit where the fuck Dean was for an entire year because he was too busy fucking some piece of shit girl! Seriously, I didn’t think I could dislike anyone more than I hated Ruby 2.0 or Gordon... and then came Amelia. I have yet to encounter a person in the Spn-verse that is worse than her. No joke. This season ranks above the others though because it was less “meh” or all over the place. And because Mrs. Tran being a complete baller for just a single episode was more entertaining that any of the main story arcs for any of those seasons below. Also, more importantly, it had more of a return to what Supernatural is supposed to be - I’m looking at you S6/7 - and even though trying to close the gates of Hell was pointless and we knew it was never gonna happen, I have a sick love for suffering!Sam at any given time because then Dean goes into overprotective big bro mode and they stop fighting and being jerks to each other for a lil’ while and we get Seasons 1-5 (eh, minus 4) bro’ lovin’ and protectin’ again. Plus, this season holds my favorite quote/speech Dean has ever said to Sam (you know what I’m talking about) and I already said I’m a sucker for heart-wrenching moments between them, so.

6. Season 4. Probably yet another unpopular opinion, but oh well. Ruby 2.0... gag me. Way to ruin a good character. Plus, as much as I love Gen, I loved nothing about her portrayal of Ruby. It wasn’t the same character. That’s the bottom line. Also Sam’s demon blood addiction and him so far up Ruby’s ass all season??? Vomit. Skip. Next. Literally if Sam listened to Dean for legit two seconds, the Apocalypse could’ve been avoided. But Castiel! And the angel arc! The actual saving graces (hah, literally) of the season.

5. Season 1. I feel really weird about placing this season this low because it’s really just as good as the two I’ve ranked above it, but. I suppose that’s cheating. Season 1 holds a very, very special place in my heart, is all. It’s the OG season, monster-of-the-week episodes (which, side note: makes no sense to me when people rank S1 super low because there were “too many monster-of-the-week episodes.” Um, yeah.. that’s kinda... what the show is fucking about? Sam and Dean... hunting monsters? But okay, anyway...) Baby Sam and Dean!!! The world wasn’t fucked yet! Lil’ skulky Sam!! Okay, real talk, S1-3 (and 5) Sam was fucking BALLER. He was the best Sam, and then the writers trashed his character, so. Cool. This season is really only this low because I had to fully rank this and because John was kinda a dick. But I loved Sam fighting with him and Dean getting in between them to protect Sam. (Also, on another note: John was a piece of work but he was a better parent than S12 Mary, jussayin’.) (Also, also, it irritates the shit out of me just how much they ruined John’s character and who they made him out to be post-season 5. He was truly something else and he did some really shitty things, but I don’t think it was fair to do and I don’t think that was ever what Kripke intended for his character, but. Oh well. I digress.)

4. Season 11. Once again, I don’t necessarily rank this fully above S1 or below the next ranking, but. There was a lot of good things going on this season. Casifer was brilliant and delivered some of my favorite one-liners of the series. His interactions with God!Chuck were great. Him helping instead of being a villain, but still being a ridiculous child. God!Chuck was wonderful and handled really, really well. Also, his World’s Best Dad mug? I heart. Freakin’... Baby? Brilliant, incredible, amazing, wonderful, spectacular. Rowena was also bitchin’ this season, the whole flippin’ demons, angels, witches working together (even though it was just one episode) was suh-weeeet, Sam and Dean were vibin’ like early seasons Sam and Dean. I really wasn’t here for the forced Dean/Amara weird as hell relationship/attraction, though. It was... no. Just. No. Also like, Amara was okay and they did mostly show how powerful she was but like. Azazel, Lucifer, the Leviathans, Gordon, or basically... anyone felt like more of a threat than her, even though she was the only actual unstoppable force ever on the show. And while it was kinda nice for the finale to be her and Chuck working it out, it was also... kinda lame. Here’s this dark force that is the most powerful thing in existence, and it’s stopped by God... apologizing and hugging it out with her? Um... okay, I guess.

3. Season 3. Even though this season was short and waiting for Dean to die kinda sucked and put a damper on the whole season, it still is by far one of the best ones, hands down. Not only did we get Katie Cassidy’s badass, savage, cool as hell Ruby 1.0, we got Bela (who had so much wasted potential, sigh) and return of the Trickster, Bobby really becoming the boys’ father figure, and Sam finally getting to kill Actual Piece of Shit™ Gordon Walker. Season 3 also has some of the best episodes of the whole series - Bad Day At Black Rock, Mystery Spot, Ghostfacers - and we got A Very Supernatural Christmas, which gave us the birth of the Samulet, and I swear to god that scene made me actually cry a little bit. (A lotta bit.)

2. Season 2. This is like. THE Supernatural season. All the cool kids are introduced: Ellen, Jo, Ash, the Trickster, Tessa. Bobby becomes more involved, brotherly bonding up the wazoo, total badass, pure monster hunting. Episodes like Tall Tales and Hollywood Babylon. And episodes like Croatoan and Heart (which had one of the best endings to an episode in the series just in terms of emotion and how well it was set up with the song and ugh), and had debatably the best season finale of the whole show with All Hell Breaks Loose Parts 1 & 2. (It killed me.) Great monsters are introduced like shape shifters and djinns. Azazel was annoying but was an actual villain (unlike some of the later big “villains”) and he was that start and end of everything. He was the Winchesters’ reason for hunting, he catapulted everything. And everything was so simple and pure and made fucking sense.

1. Season 5. I mean, there’s really no surprise here. It baffles me when S5 isn’t at the top of everyone’s list. While I don’t necessarily wanna go back and watch S5 episodes like I do with most other seasons, it was just the most well-rounded, well-thought out, well-executed season. No competition. Everything had a purpose and a meaning. Everything was tied up. Ellen and Jo die, which is a downer, but at least they were badass. Lucifer is a total tool, and you love it. It’s also Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer, which is - quite obviously - the best Lucifer. Death is rad as hell. Cas is in his fucking prime this season. Sam and Dean love each other so fucking much this season. The Trickster/Gabriel is revealed as an archangel!! Crowley!! Bobby in his prime as Sam and Dean’s father figure!! Dark Side of the Moon A.K.A. one of my all-time favorite episodes and also one of the most beautifully shot episodes!! (And Ash in heaven! “Some people share, like soulmates”!!!!!!) The fucking END!!! I honestly would probably rank S5 at the top of this list solely for the scene where Lucifer is beating the crap out of Dean while Dean just keeps saying, “Sammy, it’s okay, I’m here” and then Sam’s montage of memories of him and Dean as he takes back control, and jeez holy shit is that montage beautiful and brilliant. That scene alone is probably the best scene in the whole show and I will defend that opinion until I die. The only bad things really in S5 were how unbelievably annoying Zachariah was and how I still think throwing their random half-brother in there just so Dean didn’t have to be Michael’s vessel was ridiculous and absurd. But really, this is the season. I’m glad the show didn’t end after this season, but holy fucking shit would it have been one of the sickest, best, most baller series finales of all time, and no matter what they do for the series finale now, this finale is so untouchable that it will never even come close to living up to it.

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jackscrutchie · 7 years ago

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Watch Me Stand - Chapter 2

Chapter One ( Prologue ) Read on ao3

So this boy, this Jack Kelly -- He could talk. He was strong and didn't once falter in his step. He walked with purpose, his head held high, a smile seemingly permanent on his face. Charlie clung onto his back as he walked, focusing on not being sick again. It wasn't too terribly hard now. There wasn't anything left in his stomach after all. Jack talked and Charlie listened. He listened to stories. Stories that didn't make sense to him at all -- Stories about love and friendship and acceptance... Happiness. Stories about his own mother who had recently passed away. Stories of his father breaking his back to take care of him.

"You're gonna love it here with me and the fellas. Mostly I stay with my ol' man, but when he works real late, I like to stay at the lodgin' house with the other boys." He was trying to distract Charlie... Keep him awake. "Hey, you don't talk much, huh?"

Charlie leaned his head down, keeping quiet, not wanting to risk punishment. He didn't know this boy -- Not really. His eyelids were heavy. Jack remained quiet for a moment, giving him a chance to reply. He didn't.

"That's alright. You ain't gotta talk if you don't want to." He rounded a corner and shifted. Charlie felt himself slip and yipped, clinging tighter to Jack's back. "Whoa whoa! Hey it's okay! I got'cha!" He turned his head to the side, trying to get a look at Charlie's wide, scared eyes. "I ain't gonna let'cha fall. Don't worry!"

Charlie was trembling now. If he fell -- What would happen to his leg? Would it break? Would it hurt more than it already did? Would he hit his head and fall asleep? What if he didn't wake up? Would that be better?

"Charlie." Jack's voice broke through Charlie's fear. He tried to relax, focusing on the feeling of Jack's thin arms holding him tighter. "I got'cha."

Six.

Charlie's mind usually clouded with doubt. His mind was usually plagued by thoughts of wanting to sleep and never wake up. At only six years old -- His mind was too young to be thinking that way and yet... "Charlie."

Jack's voice again. His mind calmed, his muscles relaxed, tears fell.

Jack's face was twisted with concern. "You... You's gonna be okay." He picked up his pace, his vision set on a big building coming into view. The lodging house. "There -- See? We're already there! We's gonna get'cha all set up. Grab you a bite to eat, get'cha a bed and blanket... You's gonna get better in no time!"

Charlie's eyes dried up and he sniffled, lifting his head to examine his surroundings. The buildings were tall, there were people coming and going in every direction. The sky was darkening -- Thunder. "Ah... And a good thing too, huh?" Charlie could feel Jack tense. "Let's get'cha inside."

He closed his eyes. What now? Would he be locked in a small room again? Would he be allowed to see the outside again after this? Would he be punished for intruding? Mere moments felt like an eternity. He was only six.

"Hey! Finch, Racer, Spoons! Mr. Klopmann!" Jack kicked the door, not wanting to let go of the small boy attached to his back. "Open up fellas!"

A gentle voice called out from behind the door -- Charlie didn't open his eyes. Not yet. "Alright, alright! I'm comin'!" A click, squeak and a groan. "Kid, you know you don't have to -- You found someone, did you?"

"He's real sick -- Ain't got no where to go."

"Folks?" The voice asked. It sounded older, obviously an adult.

Jack replied with a simple twist of his head. Charlie's chest tightened.

"He ain't a runaway is he? You know the rules, Jack."

"No sir!" Jack interrupted, "And -- And I can pay for him!"

Charlie opened his eyes slowly, looking up to see the man that had opened the door. He was dizzy -- But the man had thin wired glasses, crow's feet and light lines in his skin. His hair was turning gray. He looked so kind. Charlie lifted his head slightly, his own eyes shining with tears.

Mr. Klopmann swatted at Jack, wrinkling his nose. "Come on in. I've got a bed for 'im."

Another crash of thunder. Jack jumped and whimpered a bit, slipping in quickly around the older man. Charlie could feel Jack's shoulders trembling. "Y'okay...?" His voice was weak and quiet, but steady. Thunder used to frighten him, but it quickly turned to comfort as he grew. It kept him company on the most quiet nights.

Jack shrugged his shoulders and laughed, nervous. "Yeah, I'm fine! It just -- Caught me off guard, ya know? It was real loud I wasn't expectin' it!" He stepped to one side, holding him tighter.

Charlie's lips twitched up into the smallest smile. "Yeah... It was pretty loud." He leaned his head to the side, nuzzling into Jack's dark hair and closing his eyes again. It was getting harder to stay awake now and this was so comfortable -- For the first time in his life, he felt safe.

"You ain't scared... Is you?" Jack asked, biting his lip. Charlie felt him begin to walk again, but his eyes wouldn't open.

"No." Charlie's voice was barely audible now, wrapped in the safety of this impossible boy's arms. He felt Jack's shoulders tense a bit, lacing false bravery into them.

"Good. Ain't nothin' to be afraid of." Jack spoke softly now, a gentle waver in his words. Charlie could tell -- As young as they both were, that Jack tried so hard to be fearless around people. He was a leader. Charlie's heart fluttered. Had he actually made a friend? For the first time, did someone actually care about him? Maybe he wasn't as bad as his parents had said after all.

"Heya Jack! Whoa!! Who's that, huh?" A small voice chimed in over the sound of rain hitting the windows.

"Hey!! You're back! You gonna stay the night? Ohh! A new kid!" Another voice.

"Ahh, Jack!! I'm glad your here! Did'ja hear the thunda?" A third voice shuddered. "It sounds real bad..."

"Hey, it's gonna be alright! It's just a little storm. Nothin' to worry about." Jack assured, though he himself doubted that. Another clap of thunder. This time, it shook the whole building. The small group of boys yipped and gathered close, hovering close together. Jack's shoulders trembled, but he straightened and took a deep breath. "Alright boys, quiet down. It's just thunder. It can't hurt you. 'Sides..."

Charlie was fading fast. Everyone's words sounded slurred, muddied together. He tried to make sense of what he could.

"Who is it?" Asked one quiet voice.

"I found -- real sick." It was Jack's voice.

"--'s a matter -- his leg?" Another one.

"Pipe down Race! -- Ya he's --" He couldn't focus anymore. He felt his heart slow, his breathing steady, his muscles relax. He let himself fall into the blankness of his mind. If he didn't wake up, at least he got at least these few moments with -- A friend.

Six.

Charlie slept more than he was awake. He couldn't remember much -- How many days had it been? He would open his eyes for a few minutes and take in his surrounding. Nothing much -- A small window over his head in the brick wall behind him, the rest was white curtains. They surrounded him, hiding him from the view of anyone who could possibly walk by. He wasn't allowed to see anyone aside from the few nurses and doctors that would come and go, but he knew he wasn't alone. When he could stay awake, he heard other boys coughing, getting sick or crying.

He opened his eyes to see the sun shine through that small window and when he opened them again -- Darkness. It was like he was being turned on then off over and over and over again. His leg ached, his stomach was in knots, his head throbbed, his throat burned. His eyes were sunken in, his freckled cheeks hollowed. He heard a doctor say that he didn't have much hope. He gave him a few days at most --

Charlie didn't know what that meant.

One night -- Jack snuck in.

"Charlie?" His voice was hushed and gentle.

"Mmnn..." Charlie groaned, carefully shaken out of his sleep. He opened his tired and weak eyes and forced his head to the side to meet Jack's gaze.

He smiled. "How're you doin'?"

What could he say to Jack? Friends were supposed to be honest with each other right? Though, was he even right to call Jack a friend? Could he be so bold to do something like that, to even think something like that? Did he deserve Jack's friendship when he had nothing to give in return? His friendship wasn't worth anything to anyone. He'd never even had a friend before.

He closed his eyes again, taking in a weak and rattling breath. "Okay." Was all he said. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth. He was only six -- How was he meant to explain the crippling pain he felt every single time he was awake. How could he begin to tell this other boy, this boy so wise for his age, that he didn't understand what the doctors meant when they said they had no hope. No hope for what? For him to get better? For him to walk again? For him to have friends or family? "I'm scared." He felt his eyes burn, tears threatened from behind his eyelids. He didn't know why he said it.

"Hey -- Don't worry 'bout it!" Jack gently hit Charlie's small shoulder with a small fist, playful. "You's is gonna get better an' when you do, you can meet all the fellas! We's gonna show you 'round and teach you games! We'll all be great friends." Charlie felt Jack climb up and onto the bed to sit next to him. "Ya know, my dad was kinda sick like this once. He got real tired, couldn't stay awake, he could hardly get up. But he got better after couple'a days."

Charlie couldn't move -- His entire body ached. "It ain't worth it." He was only six and somehow, he couldn't stop thinking that way. His parents made sure he remembered that he would be better off... Gone. That he was a mistake. A bad kid.

"It is worth it." His tone turned serious. "My mother told me before she passed on, to always do what you are afraid to do."

Charlie opened his eyes, tears falling.

"Just 'cause you're scared... Don't mean it ain't worth it to try. Charlie, I want you to get better! All the fellas, they's excited to meet you. You gotta get better, even though you're afraid." Jack set his hand against Charlie's matted, sweat dampened hair. "Try to be brave -- But if you can't, I'll be brave for you."

Six.

Something Jack had said resonated with him. It was time for him to stop thinking the way he had been. It was time for him to get better -- To prove that he wasn't such a bad kid. He was going to be brave, was going to make friends, was going to make Jack proud. His first friend.

The days were getting longer for Charlie. He was able to stay awake much longer, his appetite had returned, his cheeks filled back out. The dark circles under his eyes lightened, his skin regained it's color. He smiled more than a few times and his head stopped aching. Although -- His right leg was... Twisted and useless. The pain was present, but dull. Nothing he couldn't handle. They said he'd probably never be able to use his leg again but -- The doctor called him a miracle.

The curtain pulled back.

"Charlie!" Jack stood next to the older man that had greeted him when he'd arrived that first day. "They say you can leave! You get to come be with us now!" He was beaming, his eyes glistened in the sunlight. "Now I can teach you how to play catch and how to sell a pape and --"

The man cut him off. "Settle down, boy. Let the kid breathe." He walked forward and set his hand on Charlie's head, comforting. "Feelin' better?"

Charlie looked up at the man, his eyes wide and full of wonder. Tenderness directed at him, from another adult? "Yes, sir." He quickly dropped his eyes, not wanting to let them linger on the man's face for too long.

"Good. You're under my care now. I'm Mr. Klopmann, I help run the Duane Street logdin' house." He gestured back to Jack. "I'll let Mr. Kelly fill you in on the rules of the house and leave it to him to show you 'round -- But if you need anything. You can come see me." He smiled down at Charlie and ruffled his hair. "You're safe here."

"Safe..." Charlie repeated, his eyes still on his lap. "Thank you, sir." He looked up at Klopmann and smiled. It lit up the entire room.

"Don't mention it," he looked back at Jack who was holding something behind his back. "Jack."

Jack was quiet, examining Charlie's smiling face -- His cheeks were flushed.

"Jack." Klopmann cleared his throat.

"Oh! R - Right!" He stepped forward, and grinned. "We have a surprise for you."

"A 'prise?" Charlie looked to Jack, his head tilting to the side.

"Close your eyes, and don't open them!"

Charlie obliged.

"Now hold out your hands." Charlie could hear the excitement in Jack's voice. He did as he was told.

Something long was set in his hands. It was hard, cool to the touch, sturdy, a little rough...

"Okay... Open them!"

Slowly, Charlie opened his eyes and looked down at his hands and the object in them. A long piece of wood with a handle. Padding at the top -- A giant red bow was tied around the middle, messy writing covered a piece of paper that dangled from that. What was this?

"It's a crutch! It's gonna help you walk!" Jack crossed his arms, beaming with pride in himself. "I mean -- It's gonna help you walk until you can walk all by yourself again!"

"Yeah..." Charlie examined the crutch, his small fingers feeling the bow and wandering down to grab at the paper that hanged from it. It said something but -- "What's it say?"

"Oh! Uh -- Haha..." Jack reached behind his head to rub at the back of his neck. "Well - See..." He walked up to him and pointed at the few words written in a sloppy hand. "It says," he pointed to each word as he said them out loud. "To Charlie. From Jack. And here --" He pointed to the last word, "Crutchie." Jack smiled and looked to Charlie's face. "Lots of the boys 'round here have nicknames, you know? Like -- Patrick? He's Finch. Benny goes by Buttons. It's fun! So I thought... Maybe you'd like to have one too, you know?"

"Crutchie?" He looked to Jack then back down at the crutch in his hands.

"Yeah, I mean -- You ain't gotta use it! I just --"

"No. I -- I like it." Charlie looked up at him, smiled again and Jack's world stopped spinning.

"Really?" He smiled back, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Good!"

"Do... You got a nickname, too?" Charlie asked, bringing the crutch against his chest, cherishing it. His first gift.

"Sometimes they call me cowboy -- But mostly I'm just Jack." He was clearly proud of his nickname, his shoulders shrugged and his grin turned almost to snark.

"Cowboy?" Charlie perked up, hoping for more of his stories.

"Yeah! You know like Buffalo Bill!" Jack's grin widened. "Oh, kid I can't wait to show you my dime novels! The ol' man gets me a new one every couple weeks when he's got a little extra dough."

"I --" He stopped.

"Don't worry if you can't read yet. I'll teach you! We'll read the stories together. I'm still learnin' too, so it ain't nothin' to worry about. Charlie, you're gonna love 'em! There's one I got --"

Charlie listened with everything he had. He didn't even notice that Klopmann had left -- His eyes followed Jack's expressive movements and his smiles and frowns. He laughed when Jack used a silly voice when he'd recite a line. The sun moved in the sky -- He let himself get caught up in the adventures and the happiness that was painted across Jack's young face. He had managed to forget about his parents -- Forget the pain and his leg, forget being left on the street all those days ago. He forgot for a moment, that he was a bad kid. It was a beautiful feeling. His heart was full, but his stomach --

"Whoa, what was that?" Jack laughed and pointed at Charlie's thin frame. "You keepin' some sort of creature in there?"

Charlie giggled, tilting his head down to hide his pink cheeks. "No -- I'm just a little hungry is all!"

"Well, what are you waitin' for, huh?" He cocked his head back and took a step back and towards the door. "Let's get outta here."

Charlie watched him for a moment, a smile still reaching his eyes. "Yeah..." He turned to the side, his feet dangling over the edge of the bed. He held the crutch tight in his small hands and set it on the ground. Jack watched with bated breath and bit his lip, waiting patiently, ready to help if need be. Charlie breathed in deep, closed his eyes and slid off the bed, his feet landing gently on the ground beneath him. He cringed and stumbled as the weight on his right leg proved too much and it gave out, useless. Though -- he caught himself, using the crutch for support.

Jack's brows were furrowed together, worried. "You got it?"

"Y - yeah." Charlie clenched his jaw and tried to take a step but stumbled again. "I just -- I gotta get used to it." He was going to make this work. Jack got this crutch for him, and if it weren't for him, Charlie would have given up and let himself fall asleep for good when he was sick. He wasn't going to fail Jack now. Another step. It was cleaner than the first two, but he still struggled to keep his balance.

"You ain't gotta... I can help!"

"No! No..." Charlie looked at him and smiled, nodding his head. "I got this!" His eyes were sparkling with a clear determination. "I can do it!" His heart beat faster -- Just take it slow. One moment at a time. He leaned his weight on the crutch and moved his left foot, then shifted and moved the crutch and his right -- "Hah!"

Jack breathed and smiled, setting his hands on his hips. "Good job!"

Charlie's heart sang. "I got it... I got it!" Another step. Jack took another step back, watching him. "I can do it!" He took another step and another faster and cleaner each time before he came to a stop, right in front of his friend.

"Ahh, that's great Charlie!" Jack reached out and wrapped his arms around Charlie's small frame. "I'm proud of ya!"

He froze for a moment, but quickly regained himself and brought his arms up to return that warm embrace. "I couldn't have done it without you, Jack."

"No, Charlie. You did this on your own." He pulled away, his hands set firm on Charlie's shoulders. "You're amazing, kid."

He smiled again, his head dipping down to look at his feet not knowing how to reply.

"Now come on. Let's go meet the fellas." Jack turned his back and started slowly out the door.

Charlie stood still for a moment -- Letting himself have a moment to process, take it all in and prepare himself. This was the start of something completely new. Something better than what he had before. Something that was safe and kind and happy.

"You comin'?" Jack had stopped in the doorway and looked over his shoulder, that now familiar grin on his face.

"Yeah!" Charlie nodded and limped forward, each one of his step now certain. Each step he could hear more and more -- There were boys waiting outside the door. He paused.

"Hah... Yeah -- They were real excited." Jack shrugged, "Hope it --"

"Can it, Jack!" A small boy pushed past Jack and into the room, right up to Charlie. "Good to see ya'ain't dead." He crossed his arms, his light curls bouncing on his head. He had a cigar in his mouth. Charlie took a step back, taken a bit off guard.

"Yeah! It's about time you's awake! We all thought we wouldn' get ta meet'cha." Another boy joined the first. A slingshot stuck out of the hem of his pants. "I'm jus' glad I ain't the newest no more!"

"Guys back down! You don't wanna scare 'im!" A third boy, this one was wearing glasses, tall and wiry.

"Um --" Charlie looked back and forth from each one of them then craned his neck trying to see Jack. He was so much smaller than the others he couldn't --

"Hey!" Jack's voice broke out over the other three. "I didn't tell you's you could could come up here and jus' start yellin' at him!" He pushed past the one with the cigar and stood in front of Charlie, protective.

"Hey, we weren't doin' nothin' wrong. We just wanted --"

"Cool it, Racer." Silence followed.

"Jack I --" Charlie spoke quietly, peeking out from behind him. "I'm okay." A smile --

The room brightened again. All of the boys held their breath.

"Well then." The boy with the slingshot stepped forward, spitting in, and offering his hand. "The name's Finch. Ain't no one can match my aim."

Charlie stepped out from behind Jack and nodded, still cautious. "Finch..." He thought for a moment, then spit in his own palm. He took Finch's hand and gave it a weak shake.

"The name's Racetrack Higgins." The boy with the cigar pulled Finch back, and grinned. "You can call me Race if you want." He sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. "You need anythin' you can come talk to me. I'll take care of it for ya. Ain't nothin' I'm afraid of."

"And --" The third, and tallest of all of them came forward, waving softly. "I'm Specs." He tilted his glasses and smiled. "If he bothers you at all," he gestured to Race and raised his brow. "Come get me. I know how to deal with this wise guy."

"What's that supposed'ta mean, huh?" Race turned to Spec, puffing out his chest.

Specs laughed in response and pat his head. "I'm jokin' Racer, take a breath."

"And when these two guys get into it, you always got me. We can watch the show together." Finch nudged Charlie's shoulder and chuckled, shaking his head. "Me, I never get into this stuff."

"Finch, don't act like you don't sit in the bunks at night and shoot rocks at us just to start fights." Race pointed his cigar at the brunette.

"I wouldn't ever do somethin' like that! It's gotta be them bed bugs bitin' you. Maybe try to wash your socks more, huh? Maybe they wont keep attackin' ya." He swatted at his nose and grimaced. "I can smell them through your shoes."

"Oh sure, Finch, sure! Don't try to act like you're a tough guy now. You were cryin' like a baby the other night when you couldn't find that thing." Race tried to snatch the slingshot from Finch's waist, but stumbled when he took a step back.

"Now this, kid --" Specs stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed. "This is good stuff!"

"Yeah okay, Racer. You won't be laughin' when Klopmann finds out you been chewin' on cigars again."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Wanna try me?"

Charlie laughed when Race wrapped an arm around Finch and held him down. They struggled against each other, mumbling words Charlie couldn't understand. This was a game to them -- It was easy for him to see the difference between how his parents had treated him and how they were treating each other. This was fun, playful. Now he got to experience it, too. His heart fluttered and his cheeks began to hurt from smiling. "Fellas! Be nice!"

Jack stood back watching them, watching Charlie and smiled. He knew Charlie would be a good fit. As soon as he found him on the street he knew he had the potential to brighten up everyone's day -- And when he smiled, Charlie proved him right. He deserved the chance to be happy just as the rest of these boys did. Jack beamed at them. He couldn't wait for Charlie to see the world. To see things how they were meant to be seen. To not have to live in fear anymore. "Alright kids -- Let's get goin'."

"Hey we ain't done here yet, Kelly." Race held up a hand to stop Jack's words of protest. "He ain't even told us his name yet."

Charlie blinked and looked back at Jack quickly before regarding the others once more. "Oh I -- I'm sorry." He let his lip crack another small smile, another smile to make Jack's breath catch. "I'm Crutchie."

#newsies #jack kelly #crutchie #jackcrutchie #newsies fic #garbage #take this #i love you guys wow #hiccup writes

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kayleepetey · 7 years ago

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Of Sutures, Spilled Juice, and Sticky Notes (Olicity AU fic)

So, after what I know has been a TERRIBLY long dry spell from me with my lack of writing and posting, things have just been busy and tiring in real life, here I finally have a story! This is the first part in a series of one-shots for a new Olicity alt-'verse, The Paramedic and the Vigilante. I have no idea how it came to me, literally I woke up one morning with this world and the versions of our beloved characters in my head and I had to write it. I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING, I am not receiving anything in the production of this story, it is purely for fun and entertainment.

Thank you to my beta and wonderful dartie, @agentsassydirewolf! Thank you for all the help, advice, and even for egging me on! ;-) You're the best!

>>>------------>

Of Sutures, Spilled Juice, and Sticky Notes

Tommy was right. Oh, how it pained Oliver to admit that; he hated being wrong--the Army shrink had rambled on and on about that particular "trait" (read: issue)--and hated admitting to it even more--oh, had the quacks ever had a field day with his bucket-load of issues...

Two years ago Oliver Queen's 12-year, decorated career in Army Special Forces ended after 9 months held captive by the enemy resulted in two fused vertebrae, a knee replacement, complete burnout, and a psych diagnosis of PTSD. The Army (and a few other government agencies he would never be able to name because the ops were unlikely to ever be declassified) and the United States of America extended their most heartfelt thanks for his service, operated on and rehabbed him, then gave him an early medical retirement.

Naturally Oliver's one-percenter, semi-absentee parents had been thrilled that that "nonsense" was over; they'd assumed this meant he'd take up his "rightful place" with his father at the family company and among the Starling upper-crust society. They even planned how to spin his "patriotism" into positive PR for the company, as well as responses (read: smoke screening) to questions about his business qualificationsâ€”or more accurately the lack-thereof.

Oliver instead had taken his G.I. Bill and become a paramedic--he'd briefly considered also going on to become a fireman so he could work out of the Fire Department, but nixed it due to an...incident in Kandahar that he and his Army buddy and mentor, John Diggle, still didn't talk about to this day, no matter how much the shrinks had prodded them; that was a place neither of them ever wanted to revisit. Oliver had immediately volunteered to work on the worst side of town, the Glades, much to his parents' further dismay, and quickly proved himself as the coolest head and most fearless--his friends called it "reckless" but Oliver preferred "fearless"--which were vital traits in many cases. And since he was rather perpetually single--it had to be some form of the universe getting karmic revenge after his playboy past: him being seemingly unable to have a woman stay with him for longer than a couple of dates now that he'd actually might want that--Oliver often took on extra shifts for coworkers who got sick, whose kids got sick, or who went on vacation with their family--his friends and sister accused him of using work to distract himself and avoid dating, but who could blame him after of the last three women one never called him back after the first date, another stalked him, and the third got shot by said stalker?

Suffice it to say that his workaholism--or avoidance tactics, according to his sister, friends, and his last shrink before he fired him--were the reason behind him now having to do something he hated: conceding to someone else being right.

Oliver had started out working his standard shift, then done a double when Charlie had called in because her daughter, two boys, and life-partner were all sick with the stomach flu; that had then rolled into a triple because of a 20-car pileup. He'd just dropped off their last patient when his oldest friend, Tommy Merlyn, ER surgeon-extraordinaire of Glades Memorial, stole his keys and forced him to go to one of the empty tea treatment rooms to rack-out for a few hours before going home, pointing out that after working for so long he had no business driving home on basically no sleep. When he'd sensed Oliver not quite giving in he went in for the kill: "I'm not going to let you go out there and become car accident victim number 21 for the night."

Rolling his eyes, Oliver reluctantly agreed to stay for at least four hours--negotiated down from the original six--and trudged through the familiar halls to the room his friend had indicated.

The further he got from the ER the quieter the halls became and the activity less frantic; he smiled and greeted the orderlies, nurses, and doctors as he made his way through--he was more or less familiar with everyone who worked there, it was a small, understaffed hospital, so everyone knew each other. Oliver checked in with the desk nurse--a sweet mother of two named Jenny--to let her know that Tommy had ordered him to use the room in her ward, to which she'd laughed and said she'd note it on the board for the room not to be disturbed unless necessary, doctor's orders.

Exhausted--and part of him wishing he was ten years younger--Oliver pushed open the door to the small room.

Which was already occupied.

The member of the trio of Starling City vigilantes dubbed by the police and media as "The Hood"â€”dumb name in his opinionâ€”was standing by the counter, holding a wad of gauze of her left, black leather-clad shoulder, eyes visibly wide behind her signature hood and mask, even in the dim room, lit mostly by moonlight filtering in through the open window.

Oliver was frozen for but a momentâ€”longer than it normally would be but he was coming off a triple, so he figured he could be cut some slackâ€”before he closed the door and locked it behind him. "Gunshot wound?"

Hoodie--yeah, nevermind, he was not gonna call her that--blinked. "What?"

"Your wound." He gestured to her shoulder. "Is it from a gunshot?"

"Umm...yeah..." It sounded more like a question than an answer.

"Is it a through-n-through?"

Her mouth open and closed a couple of times before saying, "I feel like I should know what that means, but I'm kinda distracted from my bleeding to death and your general, extreme hotness." The dark-haired vigilante's teeth audibly snapped shut and her eyes squeezed tightly closed, embarrassment obvious.

Oliver found himself fighting a grin--where the hell had that come from?! He hadn't found much of anything amusing in years, and this girl managed to amuse him within 60 seconds of meeting her?!--before stepping forward and clarifying, "Is the bullet still in your shoulder?"

"No, no bullet. I mean, there was a bullet, obviously, but it didn't stay in my shoulder, it went right through-- Thus...the through-n-through you mentioned. Yeah...it's been a night." Her perfectly straight and perfectly white teeth bit her full, dark fuchsia lower lip.

The fair-haired paramedic had reached her side and pulled the gauze away from her shoulder. All he could see was a bloody hole in the black leather. "We need to get this off." He tossed the used gauze into the medical waste bin before beginning to tug on her long coat.

She complied with his urging, unbuckling her belt then working the leather over her good shoulder with ease, while muttering, "Usually I wait until the third date before I let a guy start taking off my clothes." Her eyes again went comically wide.

This time Oliver could not quell the amused smirk that quirked his lips. "Better track record than I have."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her mouth hanging open, while she stared at him, he probably felt overly-proud at being able to so shock one of the women who had the scum of the Glades running scared. The coat came off to reveal a, in his opinion, sensibly long sleeve top--who the hell would go fighting knife, gun, and other weapons-wielding criminals in short-sleeves or sleeveless tops?! He tugged at the sleeve. "This too."

"Now we're really getting into third date territory." This time he was pretty sure it was intentional on her part, she seemed to be watching him closely to see how he'd react.

He helped her with the clasps on her top that her wounded shoulder made a struggle. "You can buy me a drink later if it'll make you feel better."

"Oh, it should definitely be the other way around," she quipped back.

When was the last time Oliver had had this much fun bantering with someone? "Really?" Peeling back the leather top revealed a simple black tank, and a ragged gunshot wound, which he closely inspected using his penlight.

"Yep." She sucked in a sharp breath when he gently prodded the edge of the wound, shooting her an apologetic look before returning his attention to the injury. "Actually you should spring for an entire meal. I'm not a cheap date."

"Noted." He moved behind her so that he could take a look at the corresponding wound--notably the entrance wound, some fucking coward had shot her in the back--noting that both would only require a few stitches. "I should be able to close these fairly quickly, and the bullet missed the artery."

She twisted her head at a slightly awkward angle to look at the wounds. "Are you sure? It's bleeding a lot."

Oliver just barely managed to suppress a smile, nodding and leading her over to the bed. "I'm sure. If they'd hit an artery, you'd probably already be dead, and definitely would be unconscious." He drew her to a halt before him.

She managed to cock an eyebrow above her mask. "Well, you're a cheerful one."

He smirked. "Always." Then he grasped her around the waist and lifted her to sit on the bed.

"Oh!" the startled sound escaped her on a gasp, her lips parting into a delicious "o" that Oliver forced himself to ignore, along with how perfectly the curve of her waist fit in his hands, and that she smelled of freesias and violets.

Oliver withdrew to wash his hands before turning to the supply cabinets, quickly searching through them until he uncovered the items he was looking for, then set them all on a sterile tray and returned to her side, pulling on nitrile gloves. "We'll need to clean the wound first which isn't going to be pleasant."

The masked woman visibly swallowed. "I can take it." She was trying to sound tough, but Oliver could hear the tiniest quaver in her tone. The front wasn't necessary in his book, he already applauded the strength and bravery she'd shown thus far and did so every night on the streets.

He cleaned the wound as best he could, pretending he didn't hear the occasional gasps and whimpers that escaped her. Finally it was satisfactorily clean and, picking up the suture, he turned his gaze on her again, this time very apologetic. "I'm sorry, but they don't keep any anesthetic, even local, in the rooms. So this is going to hurt a lot."

Swallowing hard, the dark-haired woman tried to give a nonchalant shrug, spoiling the effect with a full-body flinch and grimace at moving her injured shoulder, saying, "It can't hurt worse than the bullet did, right?"

Technically, no, a gunshot was more painful, however the stitches were going to take time so the pain would be more sustained. But Oliver wasn't going to tell her that. "Just keep breathing. Don't want you to pass out."

"You suck at this bedside mannnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeer-- Ow ow ow owowowowow OW!"

He cast her an apologetic look from where he'd begun the stitches. "Well, there is a reason I'm a paramedic and not a doctor or nurse."

"Do paramedics even do stitches? I mean, are you even trained to do this?!" Her voice was becoming higher pitched and edging towards hysterical.

Oliver needed to head off that hysteria. "As a matter of fact I have been trained in sutures and have quite a bit of experience with them. I was Special Forces and trained in some field medicine." He kept his voice calm and soothing, his tone turning a little teasing as he continued, "And are you really gonna complain about the qualifications of the man helping you, no-questions-asked, Hoodie?" The name he'd thought of earlier popping back into his mind.

"What did you just call me?" she gritted out through her clenched in pain teeth.

Bingo. "Well, it's better than 'The Hood,'" he used a mock foreboding tone on the moniker as he moved to her back. "Dumb name, 'The Hood.' You should get a better one, Hoodie." Keeping her mad was good, anger kept hysteria away and would help keep her from passing out.

"Call me Hoodie again and I'll kill you," the dark-haired woman snarled. She kinda reminded Oliver of a feisty, little kitten, he liked her spirit; she and Thea would get along famously...he should probably make sure they never met. For many, many reasons.

"Considering I can bench press you, I think I'm okay with taking my chances, Hoodie." Most people would think he had a death wish, taunting one of the Starling City vigilantes, but after all he'd been through and done his fear threshold was set rather high, not much of anything fazed him at this point. And besides, even if she really could kill him he didn't think she actually would...probably. At least not until after he'd finished patching her up first. And besides he was growing fond of the nickname Hoodie.

"Then I'll ruin your life! You have no idea what these fingers can do!"

He raised an eyebrow at her, lips twitching. "No, I don't, but I'm sure I'd like to find out, Hoodie."

She frowned for a moment, thinking back on what she'd said before squeezing her eyes shut and groaning. "With a computer! Not...other stuff. Not that I'm not good at that other stuff, I mean, my last boyfriend said--" She clenched her jaw shut and then began counting down through her teeth," 3... 2... 1..."

"Done." Oliver snipped off the excess from the last suture.

Her head whipped around to look where he'd been sewing up the hole in the back of her shoulder. "You're done? Already?"

"Yep." He picked up a couple of large bandages, gently applying them over the stitches on each side of her shoulder, ignoring--or trying to--how soft her skin was under his fingers, even through the gloves, as he smoothed the adhesive edges down.

The vigilante narrowed her eyes at him. "Nice distraction technique."

"Worked in the field." Oliver gathered up everything and tossed it along with his gloves into the med waste bin. "Though I did nearly get my ass kicked once. ASA guy, my partner literally had to tie the guy's hands together behind his back. Still got socked in the jaw afterwards." He picked up her discarded top and gently began to help her pull the sleeve up her injured arm. "So, you're gonna want to keep those sutures as dry as possible, and try not to use that shoulder much, you do have a hole in it so it's gonna need some time to heal and recover, and you don't want to tear the stitches out either. You have someone who can take them out for you in a couple weeks?"

"Yeah, my partners can help me." She fumbled a bit with the fasteners on her top, so Oliver reached over and began to help her with them again. "I'm a big girl, I can dress myself, thanks," she grumbled a bit.

"Seemed to me that you needed a little help. And my mother raised me to be a gentleman and to help a lady when she needed it," he drawled sardonically, before gripping her waist and lifting her down from the bed.

"Yeah, I'll bet. Especially when it involves helping a lady out of her clothes? And why is it you keep picking me up and moving me places? I'm not a doll, I am perfectly capable of moving myself, thanks," she snarked back.

He snorted at her comment about him helping women out of their clothes. "Humor the man who just put the stitches into your shoulder and would rather not see them get ripped out immediately thereafter," Oliver wryly asked her, holding out her coat to help her slip it on.

Rolling her eyes, she allowed him to assist her, pointing out over her shoulder, "You realize that when I climb out the window and down the fire escape that's gonna be substantially more strenuous than hopping off a bed?"

"Thus why you're not going out the fire escape," he easily countered her, already moving towards the door.

Her eyebrows shot towards her hairline. "Is that so?"

"Yep." Oliver cracked the door, checking the hallway.

"And exactly how am I going to get out of here unseen?" Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her start to cross her arms, but then wince and let them drop back to her sides.

"The cameras are out on this floor, and just two doors down there's a stairwell that has an exit into the alley behind the hospital." The paramedic looked back at her. "That's how you're going to get out."

She blinked a couple of times, before joining him. "Well, if you want to be all logical and safe about it."

He smirked. "That'd be my preference." Quickly he scanned the hall, making sure it was clear. "Okay, let's go." Placing his hand at the small of her back, he urged her out of the room and down the hall, head on a swivel, ready to duck out of sight if someone came. They then reached the door to the stairwell and he held it open for her. "Down these stairs you'll find the exit, the one for the alley is the one without a window. Can you get yourself to safety from there?"

"Yeah." She nodded, eyeing him closely. "Why are you helping me? I'm wanted by the police, and you, y'know, work with the police."

Oliver was acutely aware of the hall at his back and that someone could appear at any moment and find them, but he considered his words carefully before answering, "The Glades need help. And you and your friends are among the only people actually trying to make a difference. Trying to do good. And you are." He heard the sound of faint footsteps approaching. "Go, and be careful."

"Thank you!" she managed to say just before the door closed.

Oliver nodded in acknowledgement through the tiny window, before forcing himself to turn and head down the hall back to the room, not wanting anyone to see him at the stairwell and it get back to Tommy that he attempted to "escape" or something. He nodded and smiled tiredly to the nurse he passed in the hall before ducking back into the room; he did a quick visual sweep to make sure there wasn't any evidence left that Hoodie--she'd probably would kill him if she knew that he now thought of her as that--had been there, but aside from the blankets on the bed being slightly wrinkled, which wasn't an issue, everything looked perfectly normal.

As he breathed out a relieved sigh a new wave of exhaustion washed over him, his body screaming abuse at him, and the sigh turned into a grumble. Locking the door again--he did not need anyone getting in the room unexpectedly if his mind decided to revisit one of his nightmares; the last time someone had surprised him while he was having a nightmare he'd nearly killed his mother--Oliver moved to the bed, toeing out of his shoes before basically collapsing face first onto the cheap crappy mattress, though his sleep-deprived body thought it felt like the most amazing bed ever at the moment. Finally he gave into his exhaustion, his mind slowly sinking down into sleep, the scent of freesias and violets drifting from the blankets and following him pleasantly into his dreams.

>>>---------->

One Week Later

Felicity gritted her teeth as her shoulder throbbed beneath her pink blouse, the asshole she'd passed on the way to her desk had slammed into it, not even bothering to apologize. Jerk. She forced herself not to rub it, as was her first instinct, knowing it would do more harm than good. Sara had assured Felicity that the person who patched her up did a great job. When her bo-staff wielding compatriot asked who it was that'd helped her, Felicity had told her that he hadn't given his name. Not a lie, because he hadn't, but who in Starling City didn't know Oliver Queen? All these days later and Felicity still didn't know why she hadn't told Sara who it was that'd helped her.

Unconsciously her fingers rose to lightly rest on the stitches, remembering his gentle touch as he bantered with and teased her, amusement shining through the shadows in his bright blue eyes. Felicity honestly hadn't ever expected to meet the heir to the Queen empire, so she hadn't really had any set expectations as to what he'd be like. At least she'd thought she hadn't, but when she met him he'd surprised her at every turn. The second she'd thought she had a handle on who he was and how he'd react, he'd done something she completely didn't expect. He'd completely and utterly shed the playboy persona of his teen years, his serving in the Army for over a decade alone proved that, and he had a sardonic, self-deprecating sense of humor she wouldn't have predicted. Above all, she'd learnt that Oliver Queen cared, deeply. He could have just taken the easy path offered to him by following his parents' plans for him, but instead he chose to enlist in the Army, where he'd volunteered for the truly dangerous jobs, while also lending a helping hand where he could--she may or may not have hacked his file, and while some of it was too heavily protected for her to risk attracting attention by digging any deeper, what she had been able to find told her a great deal about the kind of person he was.

After the hell of his captivity--even just reading the debrief of what had happened to him and his fellow soldier, John Diggle, and the resulting injuries had Felicity cringing in her seat--no one would have faulted him for choosing the easier life his family wanted for him, but instead he'd chosen a profession that was dedicated to helping others and to do so in the roughest part of town and that was most in need. Oliver had a big heart, possibly the biggest Felicity had ever encountered, one, she was beginning to suspect that even from their brief encounter, he hid under sarcasm and a façade of professional distance--that, and him trying to keep her calm while doing his job, had better be the reason why he called her freaking Hoodie. Whatever else Oliver Queen might be, he was definitely a good man.

"Felicity Smoak?"

And "he" was apparently standing in front of her cubicle.

Frack.

Felicity had automatically looked up at her name being called, and if there ever was a "speak of the devil" moment, this was it. But what a handsome devil he was... Frack, her brain.

He gave her a charming, but distant, smile. "Hi, I'm Oliver Queen."

Yes, yes, he was. In all his muscle-ly, perfectly scruffy glory; his forearms strained against the rolled up sleeves of his blue plaid shirt, and his jeans clung very nicely to his strong thighs--and probably perfectly formed to his unbelievable ass.

Felicity didn't realize she'd been staring until he cleared his throat, startling her out of her stupor. Gods of Google she hoped that for once she'd managed to not babble all of that.

The smirk on Oliver's face and the amusement dancing in his eyes put a damper on that hope.

"I'll take all of that as a compliment."

And now it was DOA. Double frack.

Blushing furiously, Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose and cleared her throat. "Mr. Queen, please accept my apologies for those utterly inappropriate statements--"

"Oliver," he easily cut in.

"What?" She blinked up at him from behind her square frames.

"It's Oliver. Mr. Queen is my father."

"Of course he is. Because he's my boss and that's his name. But it's your name too, and it's on the side of the building--" Felicity forcefully snapped her jaw shut, trying to keep herself from digging an even deeper hole.

He shifted on his feet, for the first time in their short acquaintance actually looking uncomfortable. Felicity noticed the fingers of his right hand were rubbing together rapidly, her mind for some reason taking note of the tiny gesture. "Still, I'd rather you call me Oliver." There was nothing flirtatious about his tone, in fact it was rather flat and firm.

This was important to him; she didn't really understand why--yet--but it was obviously something he felt very strongly about, and Felicity would respect his wishes on this. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay, Oliver, what can I do for you?"

Gratitude washed over his face--Felicity pretended not to feel the warmth that flooded her heart at the expression--before a somewhat sheepish look overtook it. He lifted up a laptop he'd been carrying at his side and set it on her desk.

When Felicity placed her fingers on it she immediately noted a sticky substance coating it; she pulled her hands back with a grimace. "What happened to thisâ€¦" she eyed the computer, noting how it was several generations old, "poor dinosaur?"

"Hey!" He jabbed a finger at her, a teasing note threading his offended tone. "That dinosaur has served me well! Survived multiple deployments."

"And it should have been enjoying a nice honorable discharge to the back of your closet, not whatever travesty has befallen it instead," she countered, matching the teasing in his tone as she reprimanded him.

Bashfully ducking his head and stuffing his hands in his pockets, Oliver shrugged. "I kept meaning to get a new computer, but it ran fine so I just put it off."

She cocked an eyebrow. "So, what happened to Dino?"

He slowly raised his gaze to hers. "I was watching my goddaughter and apparently sippy cups aren't as leak-proof as they make them out to be..."

"Or maybe there was a user error? And by that, I mean you, not the child."

Grinning wryly, he shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time. They call these things kid-friendly and then make them impossible to operate. It took me three hours to put her swing thing," he made some odd gestures with his arms, apparently supposed to describe the object--and Felicity found it far too adorable, "birthday present together last month."

She ducked her head to try to hide her twitching lips. He probably didn't realize just how much the simple statement said about him. Good gods of Google, it truly was unfair for a man that good-looking to be so sweet and actually kinda...adorkable...

Felicity quickly shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. "So, What exactly can I do for you? Because I'm pretty sure not even I can help this poor unfortunate soul."

"Well, as long as the it doesn't cost my voice, I was hoping you could get the files off the hard drive," he teased back.

She felt her eyebrows shoot up.

At her surprise, Oliver shrugged. "The Little Mermaid was my kid sister's favorite growing up, and now Sara, my goddaughter, likes to watch it every time she comes over to my place."

Frack. How the hell did this guy just keep getting more and more attractive?! He's your boss. He's your boss. She tried to keep the mantra up, but a unhelpful corner of her mind slyly threw in, He's your boss...sorta. Not really... He doesn't work here at all, he's just the son of-- Shut up! Great, and now she was having arguments with her own brain. Felicity shook all that away before turning back to Oliver with a smile. "Let me take a look at it and see what I can do."

Oliver smiled. Gods of Google help her, he really smiled. It was brilliant, it lit his too-old eyes in such a breathtaking way, brighter than she'd seen them either in the media or in person. "Thank you, Felicity."

She'd never heard someone say her name like that, lingering over each of the syllables, as if savoring them. Frack, this man was unreal.

He snagged one of her sticky note pads, the green one, and picked up her red pen, scribbling quickly. "Here's my number, just call me when you're done." He grinned at her again, handing her the pad and pen back.

"Of course!" Felicity pushed her glasses up her nose with her free hand. "It should only take a couple of days."

"No rush," he assured her as he stuck his hands in his pockets. An oddly knowing glint entered his eyes, a smirk touching his lips. "See you around, Felicity."

"See you." She watched him until he turned the corner out of the IT Department, then shook her head to banish the very appealing images of Oliver Queen. She finally looked down at his note, preparing to pull it from the pad and stick it by her screen, but froze, eyes going wide as she actually read what he'd written below his phone number:

Just in case you need some more medical assistance, Hoodie.

Her first thought was: I'm gonna kill him for calling me Hoodie!

Her second thought was: Fuck.

>>>----------->

So, I will definitely be doing more in this 'verse, I'm having TONS of fun with these versions of Oliver and Felicity! XD

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think and if you want to see more from this AU!

#arrow #olicity #olicity fanfiction #olicity au #oliver queen #felicity smoak

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n1nj4-l0v4 · 8 years ago

Text

‘I didn’t know who I was anymore’: Cancer’s social stress hits young adults hard

(CNN)Alex Marshall was a freshman in college when she had her first cancer scare.

Intense chest pain and difficulty breathing were serious alarms for the swimmer at Queens University of Charlotte in North Carolina. Her training came to a halt when she ended up in the hospital — for 10 days.

With the hallmark symptoms of a Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis, Marshall and her family feared the worst, but doctors determined that a severe case of mononucleosis was the cause of her problems.

“I was released from the hospital, and I was like, ‘OK, we dodged a bullet. It wasn’t cancer,’ ” said Marshall, now 22. The mass in her chest that was causing her pain and other symptoms was covered in the highly contagious Epstein-Barr virus, best known as the cause of mononucleosis.

Two years later, while pursuing a more rigorous academic schedule and training for the Canadian Olympic trials through dual citizenship on her father’s side, Marshall began to notice more breathing problems and what seemed likea lingering cold.

“I just played it off, because I was getting cold-like symptoms, and then I would just get over it. And it would come back again two to three weeks later. I dealt with that all of summer.”

Come fall, the familiar pain in her chest returned.

Despite the pain and difficulty breathing, her performance in the water did not suffer. Coach Jeff Dugdale saw no signs of health problems in the water but instead was impressed with her performances. “I remember to this day; it was the last weekend of September when we were swimming (at) Auburn. She had one of her best meets where she got her best time.”

Still, the complaints prompted Dugdale to send Marshall to the campus wellness center, where staff referred her to a specialist. The days that followed included an X-ray, a MRI and a biopsy of a mass in her chest. Alex had symptoms that suggested Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a form of cancer that invades the bodies white blood cells and weakens the immune system.

“Monday rolled around, and I hadn’t heard anything, nothing,” she said. “I texted my family group chat, ‘I haven’t heard anything. It’s 5 o’clock; we should’ve heard something by now.’ ” Her messages were met with encouragement to be patient and that everything would be OK.

But when her parents showed up at her door 30 minutes later, she instantly knew that her test had confirmed their biggest fear: a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

“I didn’t hear a word,” she said, “it was like the adults in those Charlie Brown movies. Nothing they said made any sense.”

‘Different than other patients’

According to the National Institutes of Health, most new cases of cancer are found in people over the age of 55, but young adults are more likely than either young children or older adults to be diagnosed with certain cancers, including Hodgkin’s lymphoma. And for the adolescent and young adult population, cancer is the leading cause of disease-related death.

Adolescence and young adulthood are already transitional phases that bring unique age-related challenges. Being diagnosed with cancer during this time can be especially trying. The social difficulties faced by this group were highlighted in a study recently published in Cancer, a journal of the American Cancer Society.

The question researchers wanted to answer: Compared with cancer-free peers, how were patients in the adolescent and young adult population affected by a cancer diagnosis?

Over two years, cancer patients ages 14 to 39 self-reported their social functioning.

Researchers found that one in three young cancer patients experienced lower social functioning than their peers. Additionally, although there were improvements in the first year after diagnosis, after two years, social functioning was still worse than that of the general population.

“The cancer diagnosis in this age range is really impactful, not just at the time of diagnosis but through treatment and beyond treatment,” said study co-author Dr. Brandon Hayes-Lattin, a professor at Oregon Health and Science University.

Marshall immediately felt the impact of her diagnosis. “Day one, I was really upset,” she said. “I was thrown into the spotlight of ‘cancer girl,’ and I wasn’t quite ready for that. I didn’t really want that.”

Her feelings of depression and isolation were similar to those of study patients who reported their lowest scores of social functioning at the time of their diagnosis.

Fueling those emotions and confusion, in part, was the lack of immediate changes to her appearance. “I still had my hair. I didn’t really feel different, because when I looked in the mirror, I saw my old self looking back at me, and I still felt great.”

That all changed when she began chemotherapy and experienced the common side effects of weight and hair loss. The champion swimmer fought hard to stay in shape and refused to let the drugs deplete her.

“There were two weeks between each session, and once she rebounded, she would do leg lifts or walk around the block,” said her mother, Lucia Marshall. “Sometimes,we’d walk around together, and she’d hold on to my arm because she was too weak to stand on her own. She never gave up. Even though she was going through this, she wanted to exercise.”

Cancer, Hayes-Lattin notes, can disrupt more than a patient’s daily routine. It changes relationships with peers and how a person functions in school and work. Swimming and fitness, for Marshall, occupied a large part of her life and her identity. “Cancer can throw a wrench in that to a substantial degree,” Hayes-Lattin said.

“What makes it challenging for adolescent and young adult patients that’s different from younger patients and older patients is that there are some really unique things that face this group,” said Dr. David Freyer, director of the children’s center for cancer and blood diseases at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, one of five institutions involved in the new study. “You think about where they are. They’re life planning and in developmental life stages.”

Winning in and out of the pool

While she was home, her coaches wanted Marshall to focus on her recovery.

“My promise to her was, ‘if we win the national championship and you win your championship, we’re going to put “we kicked cancer’s ass” inside of our national championship rings,’ ” Dugdale said.

And they did just that. On March 12, 2016, the Royals men and women’s swim teams claimed the NCAA championship for the second consecutive year, and 12 days later — surrounded by family, friends and teammates — Marshall completed her final treatment. “The very next day, she was in the water,” her mother said.

The next phase and transition, from patient to survivor, presented new challenges.

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

“That last day of my chemotherapy treatment, it was really exciting. I rang my victory bell, and I was cancer-free. But I think that’s when people kinda cut everything off,” Marshall said. ” ”You’re cancer-free now. You’re done with treatment. Go back to your old life.’ But that’s not the case at all. I had never felt so lost or confused in my entire life. I didn’t know who I was anymore.”

The struggle with that transition is a sign that “we’re not doing the best we can,” said Dr. Timothy Griffin, chief of hematology/oncology at the Children’s Hospital of San Antonio, another of the institutions involved in the new study.

“You really need to have the care managers, social workers, behavioral medicine specialists, licensed counselors or psychiatrists,” he said. “Those people need to be involved in the patient too so they can support the nonmedical part.”

Marshall saw therapists both while undergoing treatment and during her transition to life in recovery. She says the assistance really helped during the challenging time.

Marshall tried to find some normalcy and returned to the pool. “I felt like I was gaining (my) identity back more and more each day and less of the cancer girl. It was nice to go back to old activities that I did such as swimming. So that helped navigating my survivorship a bit more in my favor.”

In her third appearance competing for a national title, she surpassed expectations with a second-place finish in the 50-yard freestyle, helping the team take home its third consecutive title.

“She gets second place at NCAA,” Dugdale said. “She gets her best time, which was pretty amazing considering she didn’t have much to lose.”

But she did have something to lose. That race was paramount in helping Marshall find normalcy.

Post-cancer, the swimmer is focused on finishing college and chasing another title.

Of course, not everyone needs another championship ring to feel like themselves again. There were other things that helped along the way.

“It sounds super cheesy,” Marshall said of what helps her during the toughest moments, “but having my dog helped me through a lot of my struggles. He would always make me feel better.”

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/07/health/college-swimmer-cancer-social-study-profile/index.html

from https://www.makingthebest.com/2017/04/12/i-didnt-know-who-i-was-anymore-cancers-social-stress-hits-young-adults-hard/

0 notes

saintofsunflowers · 8 years ago

Text

‘I didn’t know who I was anymore’: Cancer’s social stress hits young adults hard

(CNN)Alex Marshall was a freshman in college when she had her first cancer scare.

With the hallmark symptoms of a Hodgkin’s lymphoma diagnosis, Marshall and her family feared the worst, but doctors determined that a severe case of mononucleosis was the cause of her problems.

“I just played it off, because I was getting cold-like symptoms, and then I would just get over it. And it would come back again two to three weeks later. I dealt with that all of summer.”

Come fall, the familiar pain in her chest returned.

But when her parents showed up at her door 30 minutes later, she instantly knew that her test had confirmed their biggest fear: a diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma.

“I didn’t hear a word,” she said, “it was like the adults in those Charlie Brown movies. Nothing they said made any sense.”

‘Different than other patients’

The question researchers wanted to answer: Compared with cancer-free peers, how were patients in the adolescent and young adult population affected by a cancer diagnosis?

Over two years, cancer patients ages 14 to 39 self-reported their social functioning.

Her feelings of depression and isolation were similar to those of study patients who reported their lowest scores of social functioning at the time of their diagnosis.

Winning in and out of the pool

While she was home, her coaches wanted Marshall to focus on her recovery.

The next phase and transition, from patient to survivor, presented new challenges.

See the latest news and share your comments with CNN Health on Facebook and Twitter.

Marshall saw therapists both while undergoing treatment and during her transition to life in recovery. She says the assistance really helped during the challenging time.

In her third appearance competing for a national title, she surpassed expectations with a second-place finish in the 50-yard freestyle, helping the team take home its third consecutive title.

“She gets second place at NCAA,” Dugdale said. “She gets her best time, which was pretty amazing considering she didn’t have much to lose.”

But she did have something to lose. That race was paramount in helping Marshall find normalcy.

Post-cancer, the swimmer is focused on finishing college and chasing another title.

Of course, not everyone needs another championship ring to feel like themselves again. There were other things that helped along the way.

“It sounds super cheesy,” Marshall said of what helps her during the toughest moments, “but having my dog helped me through a lot of my struggles. He would always make me feel better.”

Read more: http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/07/health/college-swimmer-cancer-social-study-profile/index.html

from https://www.makingthebest.com/2017/04/12/i-didnt-know-who-i-was-anymore-cancers-social-stress-hits-young-adults-hard/

0 notes