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cdroloisms · 3 years ago

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idk why but i imagined vegas 2.0 as two soccer moms (the politics bois) trying to outdo each other while their sons are dragged into it (green bois) in a rlly fvcked way. e.g.

maybe big q reconsidering dream's usefulness by saying sam's enough as protection and has other things to offer to the team as well. wilbur steps in by suggesting a duel between sam and dream then, to prove it then. maybe while it happens, wilbur whispers to quackity a list of what is still physically broken abt dream post prison (so many unhealed bones, barely healed muscle, he can barely stomach food so he had like 1 steak in the past few days, etc.) and of course, he mentions dream's most powerful asset, the revive book :)

-🐇

LMAOO

this is hilarious and also accurate as hell ,, thank you anon because the image of c!wilbur and c!quackity as PTA moms is completely sending me. this prompt (as most vt2 related things are) was really fun !! it also kinda ran away from me, which is why this ended up being almost 6k words instead of my usual 1-2k for asks, but i hope you enjoy it regardless :]

tws: implied torture/abuse, death, violence, blood, injuries, conditioning, dehumanization, panic attacks, emotional distress, trauma, unhealthy relationships (so many unhealthy relationships), smoking, dark contents, dark themes, vt2 au is always really dark so definitely proceed with caution !! dark portrayals of c!quackity, c!sam, c!wilbur, and c!dream

It starts, as many things do nowadays, with a board meeting - which seems to be as much of a sign as any that everything is going to go to shit. Board meetings for Quackity, much like Wilbur’s stupid group therapy sessions, are just a thinly veiled attempt for the two to fight for control of pretty much everything - ranging from the casino schedules to the laws still being written for Las Nevadas to what food to stock in the vending machines. As Sam is still sitting on his false throne of moral superiority and therefore less inclined to indulge himself in the same blatant corruption that characterizes their discussions, and Dream - more than anything - knows his place (which hardly gives him any position to wrangle for power among the likes of Wilbur and Quackity), the fights for control more or less remain restricted between the two. More often than not, they devolve into proving their superiority over the other by using their control of Dream (which naturally never means anything remotely good for him as a consequence) so when Quackity strolls over, all tight-lipped smiles and a cigarette held between clenched fingers, Dream really doesn’t feel anything other than dread.

Still, orders by Quackity are still orders - Dream knows this fact better than he knows that he’s alive and breathing, better than the fact that he’s out of the prison, better than he knows his own goddamn name - and Dream is far too well-trained to ever consider trying to rebel. So when the time comes - 7:30 pm, sharp - Dream is in his chair, spine straight and head alert like a goddamn dog, and he waits.

It doesn’t take long for the others to arrive. Sam comes over first, leveling him with a heavy, distrustful stare as he sits down in the chair across from Dream, the expression nearly enough for Dream to roll his eyes if it weren’t for the fear that rockets through him, still, at the sight of the Warden so close to him. Sam has made it more than clear from the very beginning that he has no trust at all for Dream, that if he had his way then Dream would be locked up for the rest of eternity in a labyrinth of blackstone and obsidian, forever guarded by his ever-present supervision. Dream feels his ears burning with heat as he dips his eyes low to the surface of the table, wanting no more than to curl up and hide under the scrutiny of the Warden’s glare.

Quackity enters next, throwing open the door of the conference room loud enough to make Dream jump out of his seat, looking at him with an upturned corner of his lip when he comes back to himself enough to notice. Dream stifles a shudder at his visible good mood, all-too-aware of what that usually meant for him in the cell, stiffening further with a growing ringing to his ears as Sam and Quackity talk and Quackity sweeps past his side to get to his seat at the head of the table, carelessly brushing his fingers along the back of Dream’s neck in a way that makes him freeze, stock-still, in his chair - feeling his fingertips ease themselves over the ridge present there from a thick band of scar tissue, a deep, jagged thing that had been carved from the blunter back edge of Quackity’s axe when he had lost his temper and let the thing slam against the back of his neck, hard enough that it probably would’ve paralyzed him completely if it weren’t for Sam’s use of almost a full chest of regens. Quackity remains over him for a few more seconds, leaning over his chair to talk to Sam as he runs a light, possessive hand over the topmost bumps of Dream’s spine, before settling over into his chair, watching him with a small smirk as he keeps a white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table.

Dream hates the prickling shame and terror that keeps his muscles tense as he stares at the table’s surface, still feeling the ghost of fingers tracing over skin and bone along the back of his neck, keeps his burning eyes trained on the surface of solid wood as he tries to steady his breaths. It’s all he can do to press down his flinch when Quackity, with a frustrated yell, slams his fist against the table a few minutes later, rage simmering underneath his words as he speaks.

“Where the hell is Wilbur?” His glare slides across the room, landing on Dream, making him shrink back in his seat, heart thudding in his ears. Quackity doesn’t stop staring at him even as he pulls a cigarette and lighter from his pants pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips and letting the silver-grey threads of smoke fill the room and press against the inside of Dream’s lungs. “It’s ten minutes til 8 - I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Sam digs his fingers into his temples, already looking exhausted. “If you want, Q, we can always start without him and catch him up later. Depends on you.”

“No, then I’ll have to repeat myself and it’ll be pointless and ugh,” Quackity makes a vaguely frustrated noise as he finally turns his eyes over to Sam, making Dream’s shoulders shudder as he finally finds the air to take a breath, “We’ll just have to wait. Fucking idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have worked with any of these fuckers.”

In true Wilbur fashion, it isn’t until fifteen minutes later when the taller man finally makes an appearance, the entire time tense as hell as Quackity takes slow, steady drags of his cigarette and taps his fingers impatiently against the table’s surface. He offers one to Sam, who goes on to decline, making a short quip telling Quackity to watch his health for the future that promptly falls flat. Dream thinks he’s a fucking hypocrite, considering his whole deal with weednip or whatever Ant has on him, but doesn’t voice the thoughts as he sinks down in his chair, wishing more than anything to disappear. Against the fabric of his shirt, the right side of his chest itches, and he presses his palm against the place where he knows there is a small, irregular grid of pockmarked scars from when Quackity had taken smoke breaks in the middle of sessions.

“There you all are,” Wilbur smiles as he slides into the room, a covered metal tray held in his hands as he kicks the door closed and slides the tray onto the table with an awful screech. “I’m sorry for being late,” he continues, sounding not very sorry at all, “but I made some food to make up for it!”

He takes off the cover with a flourish; underneath, sunny yellow squares, nearly blindly bright, look up blankly under the conference room’s overly harsh lighting. They smell sugary and vaguely sour, stinging his nose slightly, and seem to be coated with a fine dusting of powdered sugar.

“Lemon bars!” Wilbur grins, just left of sincere, “they’re gluten-free!”

“God,” Quackity laughs, sounding slightly incredulous, shaking his head. Dream’s gut rolls at the sound, Wilbur’s smile growing wider, even more dangerous, at the tone. It’s familiar, the way the two of them challenge each other, and in a rare moment of solidarity Dream watches from the corner of his eyes as Sam’s shoulders hunch as well. The two of them always bring trouble, even normally, but when they’re in this mood? Actively challenging each other, toeing the line, trying to find the limits and push them just because they can? Dream shivers in his seat, grip tightening on his own arms; this, he knows, is when they are at their most dangerous - and he has the scars to prove it.

“Gluten-free, huh? Really leaning into the whole ‘PTA mom’ schtick today, aren’t you?” Quackity smirks. “Should I call you Linda from now on?”

“I don’t know, Quackity, I was just thinking that I would make a little healthier treat for all of us, you know?” Wilbur brushes off the remark easily, taking a seat and immediately kicking his feet up onto the table. “If you want it, of course. I would hardly want to get in the way of your professionalism, Mr. President- do you have one of those? Or are you going for a more authoritarian approach”

“Fighting words from someone who rigged an election as President,” Quackity drawls, “and couldn’t even win it, might I add. “

“Oh, Big Q! You fail to understand, I wasn’t criticizing you at all,” Wilbur smiles, jagged, “we agree, I believe, on the failures of democracy. Unless you’ve forgotten our conversation, already?”

“Of course not,” Quackity snorts, and Dream doesn’t miss how his gaze shifts towards the side of the room, landing on Dream and making him curl further in his seat. “I’ll save you from me trying to pick your brain, this time, but don’t worry. You make yourself…rather hard to forget.”

Wilbur claps, seeming satisfied with this round of verbal sparring, and the sharp sound of his hands meeting together nearly has Dream jumping in his seat. “So! Lemon bars- does anyone want any?”

Dream is keenly aware of two pairs of eyes landing on him, Wilbur and Quackity watching for his reaction with bated breath and narrowed eyes. Panic crawls up his throat; he knows the purpose behind their stares, knows that he’s once again become the object of one of their power struggles. Quackity’s orders rattle in his brain, his thoughts a messy jumble of pins all knocked loose from his time in the prison, hopelessly unorganized and running on little more than instinct. Wilbur is expecting him to eat, to give into his sweet pastries and sweeter words; the lesson not to eat, move, think without permission, hammered into him between chunks of potato and battered ribs and blood gathered in the crevices of his skin, keeps his hands at his sides instead of reaching towards the pastries still set in the middle of the table. Even with Quackity at the opposite side of the room, Dream swears that he can still feel the pressure of a hand against the back of his neck, pressing just hard enough to make itself known from the feeling of fingers pressing into either side of his spine - he doesn’t even quite feel himself shaking his head, only really realizes what he’s done when he hears Wilbur sigh in frustration and meets Quackity’s satisfied gaze.

“I’ll take one,” Sam says, sounding exhausted, eyes flitting from Wilbur to Quackity to Dream with an increasingly long-suffering expression. His face twists around the first bite of the bright yellow pastry, nose scrunching as he puts it down, missing a half-moon bite along one corner, and drags his fingers over the table to ease off the remnants of powdered sugar. Wilbur watches him, seeming amused, and Quackity rolls his eyes as he pulls a binder out of his inventory.

“Now that everyone is finally here,” he starts, directing a particularly dead-eyed stare at Wilbur, “we can finally get on with the meeting. I was thinking we could go over the budget, today, if that’s alright with the rest of you.”

It sounds innocent enough - which is the first sign of many that this meeting, whatever it is, is going to be anything but pleasant. The grin that steadily grows on Quackity’s face does nothing to assuage Dream’s anxieties, only pushing them higher as the man flips open the binder and messes with it for a few seconds longer before seemingly finding what he’s looking for.

“I think we all know that until Sam finishes with the bank, funds around here are going to be a little bit tight,” Quackity begins, waiting for all of them to nod before continuing, “And we really need to save wherever we can. I recounted the budget yesterday, just to make sure that we’re all on track, and- well,”

Quackity points to a circled series of red numbers that Dream doesn’t understand but can assume mean little good for them. Sam makes a low, considering noise, sounding strangely concerned, and Wilbur actually seems to close his mouth and lean forward in curiosity.

“We have a deficit,” Quackity continues when they’ve all settled back into their seats, “and we’ll get it all back once Sam gets the bank up and running, but for now our funds are...limited. I don’t want to stop progress on Las Nevadas, of course, we really don’t have time to waste. So I thought we’d have a meeting today to discuss the budget and eliminate any expenses that we might find-” Quackity gestures with a smooth twirl of his wrist, “expendable.”

Sam hums. “Do you have anything in mind, Quackity?”

“A few,” Quackity flips to the next page, where he’s seemingly jotted a few notes - different things that they can put off for the moment, it seems, and the money that would be saved for forgoing them temporarily. Dream reads down the list quickly, stilling at the last item.

“Quackity,” Sam sounds twenty times more tired already when he speaks, tone flat and a little irritated. “Why is Dream on the list?”

Quackity shrugs. “Hear me out, now- most of our money right now is going into living expenses for the four of us. Having more people here, until everything becomes more sustainable, is a huge drain on our resources. I’m just listing all our options.”

“So what do you want to do?” Sam huffs. “Throw him back in Pandora?”

Quackity shakes his head.

“Wilbur does have the revive book knowledge, you know,” he says, and Dream’s blood runs cold. He can’t run, can’t move; he’s stuck in his seat, heart hammering faster in his chest as the other three hardly spare him a second glance. Sam purses his lips, a considering expression flashing over his face, as Quackity presses on. “Seriously- listen, Sam. There’s nothing that Dream is really offering, at the moment, that the rest of us can’t handle. Wilbur has the revive book, you can act as security to take out any threats - really, we shouldn’t be pissing anyone off until everything officially opens, and we can always retrieve him then when we need him. He’ll be out of the way, which means he won’t be able to start any fucking trouble,” Quackity laughs, short. “It’s a win-win.”

“I don’t know, Quackity,” Sam says, the words slow, but the tone is familiar enough for Dream to know that he’s already mostly given in. “It’s a risk, isn’t it? None of us but Dream have really used the revive book, before.”

Wilbur doesn’t even look at him when he chirps a reply. “That won’t be a problem, Sam. I’d be very happy to test it out, if you want.”

Quackity leans forward, and Dream nearly gags; he’s preening in his spot, eyes dancing as he smiles up at Sam. “Anything else you can think of?”

“I don’t know,” Sam trails off, and Dream looks down, only barely staving off the panic squeezing around his lungs and tears burning in his eyes. It’s nothing he hasn’t envisioned before, nothing he hasn’t expected, but this- he feels like such a fool, for hoping- “If we get ambushed, Q, I really don’t know if gear is going to be enough. You remember what Technoblade did last time.”

Quackity huffs, sounding annoyed, but nods to concede the point. “That is...fair. But then again, we don’t exactly know how good Dream is either, do we?” Quackity finally leans over to look at him, and Dream feels himself choke on his own breath at the dangerous gleam in Quackity’s eyes, all-too-familiar in their scrutiny, looking at him the same way they had pinned him to the floor of his obsidian-walled hell. “Anything to say, Dream?”

“I-” The words shake on Dream’s tongue, and he only barely manages a dry swallow as he struggles through the rest of his sentence, shrinking back from the heavy weight of three pairs of eyes fixed on his own, “I can be useful, s-” he only barely manages to bite down the word, a new wave of shame making him shrink back further past the fear. Quackity’s lip twitches upward.

Wilbur twirls a pencil in one hand, looking spectacularly bored; Dream’s chest shrieks with a harsh spike of envy at his composure. “How about you prove it?” His eyes are laughing when Dream gets a good look at them, amusement clear at the idea. “Put on a show?”

Quackity rolls his eyes. “What do you have in mind?”

“You want to know if Sam can serve as an adequate replacement for Dream’s combat prowess, no?” Wilbur leans back in his chair as he talks, still focused on spinning his pencil over and between his fingers, “Why doesn’t he prove it? Let them duel, one on one. If Sam kills Dream, then you’re right, we’re done, and we can all move on with our days. If Dream wins, then he’s proved his worth, and we can figure out the rest of the budget after. What do you think?”

Quackity’s lips press together, seeming displeased, but he doesn’t say anything in return. Sam, ever practical, drums his fingers against the table.

“That sounds...fair,” Sam purses his lips. “How would we judge this? Equal gear?”

Wilbur only smiles wider as he shakes his head. “I was thinking we would make it a little more accurate to reality, if Dream’s services were truly to be needed. Sam, you can keep your own gear, and Dream should use his own. I guess on your end we can fight until you yield, but for him…”

The words are left unsaid, but Dream flexes his hands underneath the table as he catches onto the implications. For him, it’s a fight to the death.

Sam shrugs. “That works for me. Dream?”

He doesn’t really have a choice, does he? “Okay.”

“Wonderful!” Wilbur claps, bringing his hands to his chest and looking thoroughly thrilled at the prospects of the potential duel. Quackity glares at Dream but doesn’t say a word, and Dream hunches into himself, nearly folding himself in half as he ducks as far as he can down his seat. Sam pulls out his sword, flipping it around and testing its weight, and Dream doesn’t quite manage to suppress his full-body shudder at the sight. “Let’s get started, then.”

They move out in a roughly single-file line out of the conference room, Wilbur making idle chatter as Sam continues to examine his armor and weapons as they walk. They settle into an open space in the still-unfinished casino that Wilbur looks around for a second and then deems appropriate for the duel. Sam sets down an enderchest to gather his necessary materials, and Dream settles in front of it himself afterwards, shifting the lid open with shaking hands as he tries to work through his inventory.

He’s started the process of building up his gear again in his spare time, but he’s not had the time to finish gathering netherite for both himself and Wilbur - Wilbur meets his eyes with a sly wink before equipping the set of netherite armor that Dream had crafted for him, and Dream stifles a desperate snarl. He doesn’t even have the other set (still a gleaming blue from unplated diamond) enchanted, outside of a Sharpness book that he had slapped onto a diamond axe. He gathers the rest of his supplies with careful hands, trying to press down the increasing trembling of his limbs from his growing panic, flexing his arm around the weight of a shield once again and pocketing steaks and golden apples from his hoard.

He has no potions, no good weapons, not even a properly enchanted crossbow to offer the slightest bit of an advantage. Dream lets his eyes flick up to where Sam is waiting at the opposite side of the room, standing up straight with enchanted netherite covering him head to toe and a familiar axe slung over his shoulder, and tries not to break down right then and there. It’s too familiar, too reminiscent of obsidian walls and netherite pressed against his ribs and demands that he behave, and despite the glittering white walls and high ceiling and cold night air he swears he could fall just from the memories alone. Drowning within them, he distantly remembers a duel long-past under a bright blue sky, Sam laughing under a swirl of potion particles on the grass surrounding the Community House lake, and wonders which of the memories hurt more.

“Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream stills in his place, slamming the lid of the enderchest shut as his heart hammers in his ears. Quackity watches him intently, expression twisted in disappointment, and some beaten, instinctual part of him whines uncomfortably at the sight. “Hurry up.”

Dream nods, because of course he does, and stands with the results of his mad scramble to gather anything that could be useful in the duel to come - a few gapples, steaks, a sword, a bow lacking any enchantments at all, and an axe and shield. It’s a rather pathetic ensemble, but it’ll be enough. It’ll have to be enough.

“Ready?” Wilbur takes place as referee, standing off to the side with a smile on his face as Dream stands across from Sam, holding his axe with a white-knuckled grip as the Warden - expression unreadable through the shadow of his helmet and the mask fixed over his face - squares his own stance in preparation for the fight. “Good luck.”

Wilbur’s arm cuts a line in the air as it drops, and the Warden explodes into action, lumbering forward as he raises his axe over his head to bring it down. Dream tumbles in the opposite direction, letting a long held back, battle-trained part of himself take over as he rights himself back on his feet, swinging up his shield to catch on the downward arc of Warden’s Hammer, frantically pressing back the dregs of fear and panic staining the corners of his vision black as he moves.

The Warden hits slow but hits hard, too big and bulky to really avoid any quick attacks but too well-armored to be easily defeated despite that. He’s a classic tank - Dream skitters out of the way of another hit as he reaches for memories of him that won’t leave him gasping, information on his opponent that didn’t come from within the prison and all its horrors.

He’d dueled Sam before, he knows; it wasn’t the same, as Sam was trying out a Turtle Master potion and intent on proving the superiority of Resistance IV against Dream’s own combat prowess. He’d failed, then; Dream forcefully steadies another breath as the sound of the Warden’s armor clanking against the ground almost sends him into another panic. He’ll have to fail now, too.

Fortunately, he’s been allowed food to heal - without it, this fight would probably be near impossible. As it is, even without the potion, the principles of this duel are the same. Dream swings up his axe, catching the blade hurling towards him in the crook where the head meets the handle just long enough to pull himself out of the way and let the Warden’s weapon fall uselessly to the ground. Dream raises his head in the second he has, tracing his gaze over the Warden’s armor in search for places to exploit. Even the best defenses aren’t perfect. All he needs to do is survive for long enough to chip through it.

A fumbled dodge leads to the Warden’s blade skimming past his skin, carving a thin red line in the skin of his upper arm. He hisses as he dives out of the way of the next blow, the twinges of pain from the area almost enough to make his vision unfocused, almost enough to send him tumbling head-first into the part of him screaming submit submit submit if you don’t fight back they won’t hurt you more. He grits his teeth as he swings forward, knocking away the axe coming towards him with his axe long enough to push forward with his shield and knock the Warden further away from him. He can’t afford to flinch, can’t afford to let fear take control of his movements as it has so many times before. The keening desperation running through his veins is familiar, but desperation can fall both ways, can make him fight or flee - and there’s only one real option that will end with him getting out of this alive.

Dream stands and forces himself to meet the next swing hurling towards him dead on, raising his shield to catch the blade and pushing forward past the shuddering shock in his left arm from the force of the blow. His own blade arcs downward in the next second, scraping against the Warden’s netherite armor with a metallic screech. He manages to get in two more blows before the Warden’s next attack has him backing away to dodge, shaking off his arm to get his shield ready for the next attack.

He has to stay on the offensive, keep pressing the Warden back and forcing the other to play defense. He’s still weak from the prison; in terms of brute strength, he’s no match from the Warden, not after months of starvation and torture stuck in a box with hardly enough room to stretch his legs. All he really has going for him is his speed and his experience, neither of which will do him any good if he teeters over the edge into the panic attack he’s been trying to hold off the entire time. Dream runs forward, not giving himself more than a second to breathe as he rushes the Warden once again, switching weapons mid-leap to a sword that will allow for quicker blows in the time that he has the Warden off-balance enough to attack freely. He scores a series of glancing hits on the Warden, none doing any major damage but altogether enough to make the Warden back off, wary, with a gasping note of pain, and Dream shakes his head to force himself to focus before running forward once more.

The Warden pulls out a shield of his own, and Dream switches back to the axe and swings it squarely into the shield, then twists himself around to the Warden’s unprotected back to catch him with another heavy blow that leaves him reeling in the second he takes to recover. He’s clearly untrained with a shield, his left arm clumsy as he tries to block Dream’s blows, and Dream uses the opportunity to score another few solid hits to the Warden’s sides and legs, getting a good blow with the blunt side of his axe into the back of one of his knees, leaving the warden limping when he pulls away.

Dream has hardly come off unscathed in the fight - he wheezes out a heavy breath through his teeth, chest aching from a hit that had broken one of his ribs. The exertion and anxiety still pressing at the back of his throat has left him light-headed, and he bites through a crisp, almost sickeningly-sweet bite of golden apple to close a wound bleeding sluggishly on his side. Neither of them can go on for much longer; the Warden’s grip tightens on his axe, and Dream swallows past the shudder that arises from the sight.

Once again, he raises his axe and runs into the fight, parrying the coming strike and twisting out of the way to strike at a joint of the Warden’s armor with the flat of his blade. The Warden’s arm raises, and Dream bites off a yelp of alarm as the handle of his axe is levied against his unarmored side, knocking him off-balance and falling back onto the ground, too disoriented to catch himself. He lands on his left arm, and his vision goes white as it gives out with a sharp crack.

Through half-lidded eyes, he can make out the Warden stalking closer, axe raised and ready to end the fight - end him. His chest shakes in a pathetic wheeze for breath, arm completely useless from where it’s screaming in pain underneath him. He needs to move, now, if he wants to survive this - fear swells forward, unhindered as his focus is broken by the vice grip the pain has on his skull - he’s shaking, now, the terror so familiar he can taste it - salt and iron and sticky-sweet health potions against the backs of his teeth-

The Warden raises his axe.

No.

Dream raises his sword just in time to catch the blade hurtling towards his neck, uses his foot to kick against the Warden’s grip on the handle. The axe clatters out of his grip, falls forward - Dream rolls away, breathing harshly around the pain threatening to make him black out. Unarmed, the Warden takes a second to grab a sword from his inventory while Dream forces himself back to his feet and kicks the axe as far away as he can.

He’s so flooded with panic he’s choking on it, broken arm hanging limply by his side as he charges forward, sword in hand. He won’t die, not after all this time, not after all this effort - he throws himself at the Warden, batters him with jabs and thrusts that force the other man to back away and parry, snarling wordlessly as he brings his sword to slash forward again and again.

His attacks are messy, uncoordinated, but the Warden is tired and disoriented from the loss of his weapon - he flinches back as Dream hits him in the jaw with the hilt of his sword, only barely matching his blows as he continues to push forward. Any hits that he scores on Dream are brushed off with a growl of pain and his sword moving even faster in his fury, and it’s not very long at all before he’s knocked flat on his back with a sweep of Dream’s legs, gasping for air as Dream pins him to the ground with a blade pressed against his neck.

Dream meets his wide eyes with his own, lips curled back in the same desperate rage that had moved him forwards despite the black creeping into the corners of his eyes and the lancing pain tying its strings around his neck and leaving him gasping for air. The sword in his hand bears threads of blood along its edge, pressing deeper into the Warden’s neck and drawing crimson up to the surface - a thousand fearful, angry thoughts swell up to the front of his skull in a singular, white-hot point. It is the Warden underneath his feet, at the end of his blade, cowering beneath him as he had cowered before - the Warden, the cause of his pain, the reason behind the ache in his gut and the stinging pains in his limbs and the piercing agony from his arm and chest. It would be so easy to push just a little harder, to press the sweet blue blade down and down and down until the Warden is gone and the Warden is dead and the Warden can’t hurt him anymore-

“Down, Dream,” Quackity snaps, and Dream backs off immediately, losing his grip on his sword as the command has him dragged back by the neck like an invisible leash and collar pulling him away. Sam settles back in a sitting position, still wide-eyed, wincing as he moves and bringing a golden apple from his inventory to heal the worst of his injuries.

“Eat,” Quackity commands again, and Dream only barely manages a stiff nod through the nausea and dread curling around his chest as the adrenaline begins to fade away, fumbling with the golden apple he finds in his inventory and nibbling at it to tide off the worst of the pain.

“Bravo, bravo,” Wilbur grins from the side, clapping slowly as he walks back into the middle of their makeshift arena - he’s taken his armor off again, but it doesn’t make the sight of him any less intimidating. “What a show! We should do that more often, what do you think?”

No, Dream almost screams, I can’t- but Quackity beats him to it, glaring at Wilbur with an incredulous expression.

“We don’t have the time to waste on your fucking ‘shows,’” he snaps, crossing his arms as he swings his gaze over to Dream. “Fine. You’ve proved yourself. Now hurry up - we have to clean up all of this shit and then figure out the rest of this fucking budget.”

Dream pulls himself to his feet, watching from the side as the Warden does the same.

“Make yourself useful and clean off all your fucking blood from the floor,” Quackity meets his eyes with a vicious glare, waiting until he stammers his way through an agreement before turning to the other two in the room. “Sam, Wilbur - with me. I want to get this money issue figured out tonight.”

Dream watches them go as he shuffles to the cleaning closet, feeling a shudder crawl up his spine once they’re out of sight. Make yourself useful, Quackity’s voice rings in his head, and Dream bites his lip, only stopping when he accidentally breaks through skin and the taste of blood floods his tongue.

He has a feeling that those words are going to haunt him for a long, long time.

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klarolinelibrary · 3 years ago

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Hi KC Readers,

After a long break, we are back with our weekly releases! We apologize for the delay but we have reached the end of the week which means we have new weekly releases for you! The stories below were updated during the week of May 22nd - May 28th.

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Date of update: May 23 2021

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Rating: M

Length: 105,863

Summary: I think the title is self explanatory. The Trouble with Spells as seen through Klaus's eyes and his POV. Over the years, people kept liking this story and some even asked for Klaus POV, so I decided to give it a try. Hope you enjoy it. All feedback is more than welcome. Good or bad.

Date of update: May 23 2021

High Stakes

Author: stardancer10

Rating: M

Length: 4,105

Summary: When Klaus died something in Caroline broke. She could not take anymore of Mystic Falls and she left. In her travels she finds herself doing things that she knew others wouldn't agree with, but she did what she felt was right. It was a gamble she was willing to take, something she felt that she owed him.

Date of update: May 23 2021

Purgatory (Chapter 22)

Author: Scarletborn

Rating: M

Length: 333,312

Summary: Caroline Forbes always thought that evil creatures and demons belonged to Hell. What she did not know was that vampires belonged to Purgatory. A place worse than hell where the only thing that mattered was survival. A place where enemies turned into allies and foes into friends. [Klaus/Caroline AU story set mostly in New Orleans]

Date of update: May 24 2021

The Wolf II (Chapter 11)

Author: yokan87

Rating: T

Length: 4,718

Summary: The Guerreras' threat still looms over the Mikaelson house as Caroline tries to adapt to life as a vampire, away from her daughter. But an unexpected family reunion makes everything worse, taking away the little peace Klaus, Caroline and Elijah managed to find after the war that nearly broke them. [It's TO S2, but Caroline was a witch, had Klaus' baby and now she's a vampire]

Date of update: May 26 2021

Vampires suck (Chapter 4)

Author: Miss.Mystic.Falls

Rating: T

Length: 5,583

Summary: What would happen if Caroline knew about vampires way before the Salvatore brothers come to Mystic Falls.

Date of update: May 28 2021

Archive of Our Own

No Reservations (Chapter 3)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: 6,890

Summary: Caroline Forbes is having a tiny crisis: her restaurant partner and co-chef has disappeared again and isn't returning her calls. Caroline cannot function without Stefan. Her kitchen staff starts making jokes about getting her meds for irritability and she takes out her issues on helpless chicken breasts. It's not fun on a good day. But when tragedy strikes, Caroline's forced to work with a new chef. She doesn't remember meeting him in New Orleans--but Klaus Mikaelson remembers her.

Date of update: May 22 2021

Sibling Rivalry Redux - Adventures in Polyamory (Chapter 3)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: 4,105

Summary: In which Klaus and Rebekah are both bi, their taste in men and women overlaps infuriatingly often, and they argue over their newest shared interest. In which Caroline feels like she might be a sugar baby, but no one’s dating her and she hasn’t gotten any in so long. Like, basically since meeting her new best friends, Klaus and Rebekah. Weird, right?

Date of update: May 22 2021

Darkness Becomes Thee (Chapter 6)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: 32,424

Summary: Austria 1300s When Klaus met a young girl on a riverbank, he knew that he would one day come back for her. When he looked into her bright blue eyes, he could see a reflection of his own soul, a darkness that lingered inside both of them. When the young girl turned into a beautiful woman with a thirst for blood, his fascination with her turns into obsession. He wants not only her loyalty but her eternity, a possessiveness that is equally returned. or my "Caroline is the serial killer Elizabeth Bathory" au.

Date of update: May 23 2021

The Big Bad Wolf (Chapter 9)

Author: MorningStarGirl666

Rating: M

Length: 66,087

Summary: He was the Big, Bad Wolf of this story, there was no doubt about that. But Caroline? She was the light to his darkness, the moon that shone brighter than even the stars in a sky of endless void. Like every wolf, he fell in love with the moon, and every month, he was destined to cry for a love he would never touch.

Date of update: May 23 2021

Klaus vs the Soulmate Goose

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 2,129

Summary: Klaus has met his match in the form of a goose as immortal and obstinate as he is: The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement. Will he succeed in killing the magical creature or will it force him to accept what’s in his heart?

Date of update: May 23 2021

Louder Than Thunder (Chapter 28)

Author: khaleesiofthewolves

Rating: M

Length: 179,641

Summary: All Hell was about to break loose. After dying while protecting a grieving Klaus, Caroline finds herself sent back in time, and she's not who she once was. She's more. Back in Mystic Falls, something else is stirring. After the arrival of a mysterious figure from Klaus' past, it all comes to a head. It really is louder than thunder.

Date of update: May 24 2021

We are young (Chapter 17)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 20,572

Summary: Basically, Klaroline flirt in front of their kids who they are barely older than, and Landon is appropriately confused. Edit: Now a series of one-shots! Edit 2: Oh my god, this has plot now!

Date of update: May 24 2021

Our Time Now (Chapter 4)

Author: perfectpro

Rating: M

Length: 52,838

Summary: Caroline is going to spend her senior year getting into the law school of her choice, leading the cheerleading squad to a nationals title, and passing her sorority presidency to someone who will continue a legacy of excellence. She doesn't have time to figure out what's happening with her relationship with Klaus - not that it's much of a relationship to begin with.

Date of update: May 24 2021

I See Dead Cheerleaders (Chapter 4)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: 7,865

Summary: When Caroline saves Jenna from Klaus's sacrifice ritual and is killed instead, she vows to haunt Klaus Mikaelson forever. Never underestimate the determination of Miss Mystic Falls.

Date of update: May 25 2021

Finding Out the Truth in a Year or Even in a Century

Author: klarolineshipperxoxo

Rating: G

Length: 1,348

Summary: Caroline goes with Stefan to New Orleans in search of Klaus 18 years after the events of TVD 5x22 and TO 1x22 but things don't go as planned and buried feelings are unearthed.

Date of update: May 25 2021

Klaroline Returns (Chapter 2)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 8,010

Summary: The savior of Gotham, Catwoman, is Caroline Forbes, flighty heiress by day. But what happens when her worlds collide in the form of reporter Klaus Mikaelson and her worst supervillain, The Hybrid?

Date of update: May 25 2021

witchy business (Chapter 4)

Author: MaddestMaid3n

Rating: M

Length: 13,783

Summary: "A little birdie told me you might have a book or two that might pique my interest,” “Well, that depends on your interests," Caroline's just trying to survive Marcel's New Orleans. Colluding with an Original was so not on her to-do list.

Date of update: May 25 2021

Klaus’ Thousand Year Plan to be Her Last (Chapter 3)

Author: anncatherine

Rating: T

Length: 4,022

Summary: So these are some missing Klaroline scenes from my Elena/Elijah soulmate fic that I couldn’t include because they either didn’t fit or needed to be form Klaus or Caroline’s pov. I think it would be helpful to read at least the first couple chapters of that for background, but basically at twelve people’s soulmate’s birthday shows up on their wrist.

Date of update: May 26 2021

what a wave you have made

Author: sekretny

Rating: T

Length: 3,413

Summary: “Do you really hate me this much?” She shouts in frustration. Klaus looks her in the eye, their gazes locked in a battle of fiery tempers. “Hate you…” He repeats with every ounce of venom he can muster. After ransacking the contents of his backpack, he removes a sketchbook Caroline has never seen before. He starts to flip furiously through the pages, “You have given me more than enough reasons to hate you, sweetheart,” he spits while he looks for a specific page. He finds it and turns the sketchbook around to show her. Klaus makes his feelings for Caroline visibly clear.

Date of update: May 26 2021

The Concept of Time (Chapter 3)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: 19,640

Summary: Pairs, France 1864 After learning some distressing news, Klaus seeks out the advice of a friend in the middle of the night and meets a mysterious woman who leaves him with more questions than answers. She hands him a journal filled with the mad ramblings about time by a man named Lorenzo St. John and sees a curious date tattooed on her shoulder. Klaus can think of little else after their first meeting and tracks her down at a burlesque club in the wrong part of the city. Klaus begins to wonder if he can solve the mystery of Caroline Forbes or simply be lost in what has deemed to be impossible.

Date of update: May 26 2021

Revenge of the Fifth - TVD Edition (Chapter 3)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: 6,168

Summary: A star wars AU for vampire dairies for May the Fourth Be with You! Caroline, Bonnie, and Elena are padawan learners at Luke Skywalker’s new Jedi training academy, desperate to prove themselves by taking down some of the new Sith Lords that have popped up. The problem is, those Sith Lords are the Mikaelsons, and each girl has a Mikaelson brother obsessed with them, unwilling to let them come to harm. Will that make it harder or easier for them to triumph over the Dark Side?

Date of update: May 26 2021

Smoke Signals

Author: misssophiachase

Rating: T

Length: 3,017

Summary: "You, you must have been looking for me...sending smoke signals" Professional photographer Caroline Forbes and firefighter Klaus Mikaelson keep running into each other. It’s either the universe playing a joke on them or Katherine’s ‘accidental’ matchmaking. Or maybe it's a bit of both?

Date of update: May 27 2021

Reasons Not to Date a Mikaelson (Chapter 8)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: 15,851

Summary: Bonnie and Caroline gain a new roommate for their freshman dorm when a vision leads them to tracking down a pregnant Hayley in the Rockies. Also, Bonnie may or may not have raised a certain dead Original instead of Jeremy and Klaus takes a job at Whitmore teaching, to be annoying. He’s very good at it. This is a season 5 rewrite where the Originals never leave for New Orleans. But you know, with comedy. And increasing angst with every chapter.

Date of update: May 27 2021

if you want me to fall (Chapter 2)

Author: FeyresUnbecoming

Rating: T

Length: 1,807

Summary: Caroline and Klaus scramble out of bed before Rebekah can find the two of them, lest she find out they've been sleeping together.

Date of update: May 27 2021

Good to you - Side Stories and Prompts

Author: originalhybridlover

Rating: T

Length: 801

Summary: So this is going to be a set a side stories or prompts related to my Klaroline story, Good to You

Date of update: May 28 2021

Genuine Beauty: Klaroline Canon-ish Drabble Collection

Author: Klauscarolove

Rating: M

Length: 30,884

Summary: Klaroline Drabble Collection: Close Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon-ish, Canon Universe....... basically if they are vampires in the drabble, it will go here.

Date of update: May 27 2021

Klaroline Storybook (Chapter 44)

Author: misssophiachase

Rating: T

Length: 63,904

Summary: A new selection of Klaroline drabbles

Date of update: May 28 2021

Lost Through Time (Chapter 7)

Author: Life_is_a_fantasy

Rating: Unavailable

Length: 4,173

Summary: What will happen when Hope, Landon, Lizzie and Josie fall through a time portal? Will they change things, even if they don't mean to? How will Klaus react to knowing his daughter has a boyfriend?

Date of update: May 28 2021

When your family is too nosy.... (Chapter 3)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: Unavailable

Length: 4,349

Summary: Klaus’s plan to get back at Rebekah by staying friends with Stefan backfires spectacularly when Stefan and Stefan’s ex-girlfriend Caroline convince him to fake a relationship at his family’s get-together at the beach. Sure, Rebekah will probably assume Caroline’s a prostitute and the rest of his family are too nosy for his own good, but what could go wrong? (I will add a rating later when I decide how explicit the smut will be)

Date of update: May 28 2021

LITTLE TENSE (Chapter 4)

Author: wincefish16

Rating: T

Length: 4,462

Summary: Klaroline's life together as they work in Mikaelson and co. Different snippets of their life. HUMAN, FULL OF FLUFF AND LITTLE BIT OF ANGST.

Date of update: May 28 2021

Like snow we melt, like rain we fall, like the sun we burn, in love. (Chapter 3)

Author: BlackRaven475932

Rating: M

Length: 4,088

Summary: after episode 5x11, Klaroline sex scene. Klaus and Caroline have a secret relationship. Teasing in public, a lot of smut, no one knows. WARNING, this story contains a blood kink in later chapters. If you don't like this then I advise you not to read it. It will occur in later chapters and I will give a warning before the chapter.

Date of update: May 28 2021

The Allure of Darkness (Chapter 2)

Author: Loveyou3000Klaroline

Rating: M

Length: 5,127

Summary: “Anything that’s worth anything is dangerous.” Or... Klaus Mikaelson is the big bad hybrid, but he is the only one who can make Caroline’s world stable. Especially after the lie of her life gets unraveled.

Date of update: May 28 2021

That Pesky Phone

Author: timetravelercat

Rating: T

Length: 1,029

Summary: "What was that?" he asked her curiously. She looked at him, embarrassed— —Wait, Caroline Forbes? Embarrassed?" Just Klaus," she answered simply, not giving him anymore details and averting her eyes. Huh, suspicious.

Date of update: May 28 2021

Ok, Cupids

Author: timetravelercat

Rating: T

Length: 795

Summary: Klaus and Caroline sign Stefan into an online dating site.

Date of update: May 28 2021

Available On Both Websites

FFN: The Traitor and the Coward (Chapter 6)

AO3: The Traitor and the Coward (Chapter 6)

Author: Uppity Bitch

Rating: M

Length: 10,677

Summary: Klaroline AU supernatural multi-chap - Original!Caroline has spent lifetimes running from her lover and his family. Despite the centuries of loneliness, she regrets nothing. Soon, she'll bring an end to this madness. Or bring the madness full circle.

Date of update: May 23 2021

FFN: What You Always Wanted

AO3: What You Always Wanted

Author: Eliliyah

Rating: M

Length: 2,646

Summary: After waiting a thousand years for her husband to break his hybrid curse, Caroline realizes Klaus neglected to mention that his next step was to build an army. Furious, she leaves him alone in Mystic Falls. Knowing there's only one way to make it up to her, Klaus shows up on her doorstep with the one person who can get him back in her good graces: their old friend, Stefan.

Date of update: May 26 2021

#klaroline library #KCL weekly releases #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline

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spine-buster · 4 years ago

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 22

A/N: So this chapter actually marks the end of the plot line of the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” -- I’m sure the dialogue after the Zamboni driver game from last chapter and the “By all means, move at a glacial place, you know how that thrills me” line was a bit of a hint. Also, we’re striking that last scene where Andie apologizes to Nate in the restaurant because she had absolutely nothing to apologize for 😤 ANYWAYS, this means that from this point, up until maaaaaybe the final FINAL chapters (whenever this thing ends, because I still don’t know when), all content and storyline is original and not based on the movie, although it will still obviously be inspired by it. We love consistency! Have a great read, and enjoy! Let me know what you think as always!

February 24th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom watched as Brendan and Kyle were answering phones left, right, and centre.

Seriously. At one point, Kyle had three on his ears. He didn’t have three ears. All because of the damned trade deadline. And it was still only 9:30 in the morning.

The room was set up the way she was told to set it up; prepared how Brendan wanted it prepared. Every major voice for both the Leafs and the Marlies was in the room – Brendan, Kyle, Brandon, Dave, Reid, Leanne, Sheldon, Paul, Dave, Andrew, Jim, Troy, and even Laurence, Mike, Greg, AJ, and Rob from the Toronto Marlies. At the front of the room, on the whiteboard, there were the names of all the players – even those in the system �� glued to magnets so they could move them around. On the other side were magnets with names of some other players from teams that they’d been looking at bringing in through a trade. Three phones were hooked up in the room, and Brendan and Kyle were on their cellphones a lot. There was a TV set up for video playback and hooked up to Reid’s laptop. Brendan would exit and enter the board room at will while he was on his phone. So would Kyle. Kyle was dealing with most of the possible cap stuff. There were worksheets everywhere.

And in the back of Aberdeen’s mind, all she could think about was Tyson Barrie.

He’d been on her mind since the drive home, really, and since all the ramp up for the trade deadline started. And she couldn’t help but wonder if Brendan and Kyle knew of him wanting to be traded and him being unhappy. Did Brendan and Kyle concern themselves with the private lives of their players? Even if the player said nothing? That was the ultimate question Aberdeen needed answered, because now that she recognized all the clues, it was glaringly obvious to her how much Tyson wanted out. She hadn’t said anything, obviously. His name magnet wasn’t moving around much, but she knew how much he wanted to be moved. She was conflicted.

“This motherfu…” she heard Brendan mumble as he looked down at his phone. “Can someone post a memo to the entire fucking league that we’re not trading Nylander, for fuck sakes,” he announced to the room. “The core isn’t on the fucking table unless Connor Mc-fucking-David is in the mix.”

Aberdeen let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding in. William being traded was not, for some reason, a worry of hers, if only because everyone knew he was having a banner year and Kyle had made explicitly clear that he wasn’t going to be traded so long as he was GM.

Kapanen.

Johnsson.

Gauthier.

Holl.

Ceci.

“It’s not in his contract but Spezza won’t go anywhere. He wants to be here.”

“If Johnsson goes it’s one less player we offer up to Seattle when the time comes.”

“Can Kappy go? He’s good bait. He’s got a friendly contract.”

It didn’t help that everything ended at 3pm. It also didn’t help that they had a charter flight waiting for them at 4:30 to take them to Tampa for their game tomorrow. Aberdeen didn’t know how they were going to handle this timeline. What if they made a blockbuster trade? What if someone was shipped off to the west coast at 2:59pm and had to uproot his whole life? Everybody in the room wasn’t exactly calm, but she didn’t know how they could take about trading these players as if they were cattle being moved. She knew this happened in all sports, but now that she was a part of it (well, in the room – it wasn’t like she was making decisions), it made everything more complicated for her.

“Tyson’s staying. Tyson – no – Tyson – Tyson is – Tyson is staying,” she heard Brendan repeating to Kyle, in what looked like a semi-private conversation. She couldn’t hear some of the other things he was saying, but some words were said loud enough. Contract. Avalanche. Kadri trade. Defense. Rielly-Barrie.

Happy.

Aberdeen gulped. Did Brendan think he was happy here? Did Kyle? Because she knew the exact opposite. She knew Tyson wasn’t, but she was sworn to secrecy by Tyson that she wouldn’t say a word to Brendan. But Brendan was wrong. Tyson wanted out.

Should…should she say something?

She liked Tyson. She wanted to see him happy. It was complicated, though, because she had no loyalty to him. She did, in a way, as an acquaintance – as someone who overheard a private conversation and then was asked not to share the details of it – but she had more loyalty to Brendan. Her boss. The guy who was trying to build a team that would win the Stanley Cup. The guy that her job depended on.

“Aberdeen.”

Like, who was she loyal to the most? If she actually said something to Brendan, would Tyson hate her forever? Would the entire team turn their back on her and hate her forever too? Because she couldn’t shut her mouth? Because she was a tattle-tale and exposed—

“Aberdeen.”

—exposed a secret of one of the players to the boss? But that secret was tied to his mental health. It’s not like she saw a guy hook up with a teammate’s girlfriend or escort or do blow off a toilet seat or something. This was integral to the well-being of a player—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see and hear Brendan calling her over. She jumped out of her seat and ran over to him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sorry. What do you need?”

“I think Chipotle is in order for lunch for everyone,” he said. “Do you mind taking everyone’s orders?”

Seventeen Chipotle orders later, Aberdeen was waiting in the restaurant at a bar table, most definitely holding up the line that was starting to form due to her massive order. She took out her phone and saw that William had texted her a heart earlier but she hadn’t seen it. He had the day off.

how bad does tyson want out of Toronto? be honest

how do u know?

i overheard him and emma talking when they drove me home once is it really bad?

can i call u?

it’s not that he doesn’t like it here bc he loves the guys and he likes the city well he really didn’t like babs i think that’s a given but he found it really hard to transition from colorado to here like he couldn’t adjust and support wise he didn’t or doesn’t feel he’s been supported enough and he’s trying his hardest to mesh within the lines and be the guy he was in colorado but he just can’t and it’s driving him crazy

Aberdeen felt herself take a deep breath. Not that she thought the conversation in the car was out of the blue or a one-off, but at least she had confirmation from another source now. She couldn’t help but wonder if Tyson talked to the guys on the team about it. Like, was it an open secret between them?

why r u asking minskatt

She knew she’d have to lie about that one. Even though William was her boyfriend, she couldn’t reveal any secrets of what was happening in that war room. If she did, Brendan would probably put her head in a guillotine.

all i see on twitter and the sports channels is us moving him they think they’re in the war room with us but they’re not and it’s just funny to me that they already think it’s a done deal

welcome to the toronto media i am getting traded too, haven’t u heard 😉

Aberdeen smiled. He was such a little shit.

you’re never leaving me.

never, minskatt ❤️

“Alright, I got seventeen bowls!” the cashier yelled, and Aberdeen knew that was her cue. They were all stuffed into multiple bags and labelled appropriately, so she handed over the company card to pay. Holding the four bags in both hands, she made her way back towards the office.

When she got back, it was very chaotic. The reports were now everywhere. Half the people in the room had left to do God knows what. Kyle was frustrated on the phone with someone. And Brendan was nowhere to be seen. “You might want to find him,” Kyle said as Aberdeen handed him his burrito bowl. His hand was covering the receiver.

Aberdeen nodded frantically. She stopped putting all the burrito bowls on the table where people had been sitting, but for some reason grabbed Brendan’s before she began running around the halls, popping into rooms to search for him. He was nowhere. She tried texting and calling. Nothing. She thought about screaming his name down the hall. Her mind was getting the best of her. Why did Kyle need him? Who was he on the phone with?

Were they about to make a trade for Tyson?

She needed to find him. She needed to tell him.

After circling the halls twice, she finally saw him walking, his winter jacket on, phone to his ear before ending the call and walking towards the board room. “Brendan, Brendan, wait. I need to talk to you,” she scurried to his side. “Tyson Barrie wants to be moved. He told—I overheard a conversation between him and his girlfriend in the car once when they were driving me home after a flight about how deeply unhappy he was here and how he sort of knew he was going to get traded or at least wanted to get traded somewhere so he wouldn’t have to be here and have the pressure on him and maybe be happy again and I promised him I wouldn’t say anything to you but now I am because I thought that maybe if I told you, that you could fix it—”

“Do I smell chicken?” Brendan asked suddenly, taking off his jacket.

Aberdeen stopped. Her brain felt like it just short-circuited. “What? No. I—I specifically told them the beef bowl for you—”

“If I have chicken in mine, I will be very disappointed,” he said, taking his burrito bowl from her hands and giving her his jacket instead before disappearing into the conference room, leaving Aberdeen standing there in shock.

***

The New York Rangers traded Brady Skjei for a first round pick. The Edmonton Oilers acquired Tyler Ennis, who Aberdeen knew was one of Bee McTavish’s best friends. Patrick Marleau went to the Pittsburgh Penguins.

But the Leafs stayed quiet. Calle Rosen came back. That’s it. Tyson wasn’t moved. He was staying a Toronto Maple Leaf. Aberdeen wondered what he was feeling right now. She wondered if he and Emma already had their bags packed for nothing. As everybody went home, Aberdeen cleaned up the boardroom. When it was time to go to the airport, she went to her desk to grab her suitcase. Brendan was waiting outside his office.

The walk to the town car was quiet. The loading of their suitcases into the trunk was quiet. The getting into the back of the car together was quiet. The sitting there as Lou drove through the downtown streets and onto the highway to get to the airport was quiet.

“You thought I didn’t know…” Brendan began, his voice low as he stared out the window. When she heard his voice, Aberdeen turned her head slowly towards him. “I’ve known what was happening for quite some time. It just took me a while to find out what to do with Tyson. A few teams were interested, and were probably willing, come July, to make him absurdly overpaid that he would have jumped at it. But I had to tell everyone he was unavailable.”

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine. Unavailable? If Brendan knew Tyson wanted to be moved – if he knew how unhappy he was – then why wouldn’t he move him?

“The truth is, there is no-one available in the league right now that can fill his place on our team, regardless of how unhappy he is,” Brendan continued. “Any of the other players would have found this job impossible and the team would have suffered. Especially because of the way the media is here. The list of writers, journalists, media personalities, analysts…they eat the players alive. It takes a very special type of player to want to play in Toronto. That’s why it was, and is still, such a big deal that John came home. Hockey is a business, Aberdeen. I’ve known for a while he was unhappy. But I couldn’t trade him. I couldn’t reconsider.”

Aberdeen took a deep breath. And there it was. Tyson Barrie was more valuable deeply unhappy here than he was happy somewhere else. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks. Hockey was a business, just like Brendan said. Despite her best intentions, good people had to make tough decisions – Brendan’s was to keep Tyson on the team. Brendan wanted to win more than anything, and he still thought he could do that with Tyson.

“But I was very, very impressed, by how intently you tried to warn me,” Brendan continued, finally looking at her. Aberdeen found it hard to meet his eye, not showing any emotion on her face. “I never thought I would say this, Aberdeen, but I really…I see a great deal of myself in you. You can see beyond what people want and what they need…and you can choose for yourself.”

Aberdeen shook her head slightly. “I don’t think I’m like that. I – I could do what you just did to Tyson. I couldn’t do something like that.”

“Hmph…but you already did,” Brendan said. “To Peter.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out dramatically. “That’s not what I – no, that was different. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh no no no, you chose,” Brendan said sternly. “You chose to get ahead. You want to be successful in this life, those choices are necessary.”

Aberdeen felt like she was about to cry. She could feel her cheeks redden. “But what if this isn’t what I want? I mean, what if I don’t want to live the way you live or be in a career the way you conduct your career? Not caring about people’s happiness and only caring about success.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aberdeen. Everybody wants this. Everybody wants to be successful. Even writers.”

Aberdeen hadn’t even noticed Lou had stopped the car because they’d arrive at the airport. She could only watch as the door unlocked and Brendan slipped on his sunglasses for the bright winter sun, getting out of the car and walking back to the trunk to get his suitcase. Aberdeen took a minute to process everything. What Brendan had just said. What he revealed to her.

Dumb. She was so dumb. And she still had so much to learn.

Aberdeen was quiet as she walked into the airport with Brendan. She was quiet as they checked in, quiet as they walked to their private hangar, quiet as she saw some of the boys and quiet as she plopped down into a seat, stuffing her headphones into her ears. She knew she should be thankful to be spending her 22nd birthday in Florida, but now, all she could think about was the conversation she’d just had with Brendan. Even William arriving almost didn’t even register with her.

She napped on the plane, not wanting to deal with hockey for at least an hour of her day.

***

The hotel was taking too long to get the key cards and reservations sorted for everyone. Aberdeen tried not to huff and puff, but she was tired. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to out for dinner. After the stress of the last two days, and especially today, she just wanted to get under the covers of her bed and sleep. Sleep would make her happy again. More than anything, she wanted to be in a good mood for her birthday tomorrow, even if she was working.

“Ab-er-deeeeeeeen Blooooooooom,” the way-too-perky helper called out her name. Aberdeen approached her and got her room key, mumbling a thank you. She was on the 5th floor.

Auston had followed behind her, grabbing his as well. When they rejoined the loosely assembled group, he took a look at her. “You look really tired, Aberdeen,” he commented.

She glared at him. She couldn’t believe the audacity of him. She’d just been up for almost two days straight because of the stupid trade deadline. Lucky for him that he didn’t have to work the last two days. And lucky for him that he didn’t have to worry about being traded like most of the other guys on the team. He could at least sleep at night knowing he wasn’t going to be traded for the next five years. “You can just say I look like shit, you know,” she deadpanned.

Auston’s eyes bulged out. “No no no—I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever, Auston,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “I know I look like shit, alright? I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Aberdeen, I didn’t mean it like that at all—”

“It’s fine,” she shook her head again, grabbing her suitcase and dragging it behind her as she stomped away from him. She didn’t have time for his excuses or for him trying to cover up his tracks. She practically punched the elevator button so she could go up to her room before everybody else. Screw waiting for everyone.

She was barely able to unpack her toiletries into her washroom before the first text came through on her phone. Of course, it was William.

saw u stomping away what happened?

She wasn’t exactly going to tell him what Auston said because God knows what he would do.

I’m just tired Willy. I’ve practically been up for 48 hours.

but u need to eat

I’ll order room service, but I’m not going out for dinner.

She left it at that. She heard her phone buzz a few times afterwards but she made a conscious decision not to answer it. She needed to be alone with her thoughts instead. She didn’t need to be around Auston telling her she looked tired. She didn’t need to be around Willy who would be staring at her all night. She didn’t need to be around Mitch and his hyperactive puppy personality. She didn’t need to be around Tyson who was probably sulking at the fact that he wasn’t trad—

A knock.

She took her sweet time going to open it. When she did, she was greeted with Jason Spezza and Jake Muzzin on the other side. She almost wanted to shut the door in their face but knew that would be the rudest thing she’d ever done. “We’re going for tacos. You in?”

“No.”

It was actually Jake who looked more taken aback by her statement than Jason. She figured it was because Jason knew better. “No to tacos? I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever heard anyone say no to tacos.”

Aberdeen cracked a half smile. “Have fun guys, but I’m exhausted. I’ve been up for like two days because of the deadline.”

“That’s all the more reason for you to get a healthy meal in,” Jake pressed.

Before she could politely decline again, she saw two figures out of the corner of her eye walking down the hallway towards them. One was William – she could figure him out from miles away just by how his hair looked – but once the other came into focus, a lump formed in her throat. Tyson was with him.

“We goin’ for tacos or what?” Tyson asked. There was a smile on his face. A fake one for sure, Aberdeen thought, all things considering.

And then it happened. She felt the blood and emotion rush to her cheeks, and she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and responsibility for the man that was standing in front of her right now. She’d tried to help him and her attempt failed. And in that attempt to help, she betrayed him. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Please, just go,” she shook her head.

“What? What’s going on?” Jake looked in between Tyson and Aberdeen.

“Will you guys just leave me alone?” she pleaded, her voice strained as she felt tears well in her eyes. “Please. I’m so tired and I’m so—”

“Inside your room, now,” Jason pointed to her bed, not even waiting for her to make the first move, and instead just walking in himself. Everybody followed – everybody except William – who took his spot leaning on the doorway so he wasn’t actually in her room. But he was watching. And every muscle in his body wanted to walk in with everyone.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked softly. “What’s the real issue here?”

Aberdeen shook her head. She still couldn’t look Tyson in the eye, but when she could, she almost broke down. It took every ounce of strength in her not to burst out crying and maintain some type of composure. “I’m so sorry. I tried, I really tried—” she began.

“Tried what?” Tyson asked.

She hesitated. “Listen, I know – I’ll understand if you hate me forever because of this – I know you told me not to tell Brendan what I heard Emma say in the car, but I couldn’t help it,” she began. Tyson’s face visibly softened. “I thought that maybe if I told him he’d actually deal you out, and you could be—you could be happy again, you know, or at least somewhere where—”

“Aberdeen—”

“—but he couldn’t, and he didn’t, and I just feel horrible for betraying you by telling him and I feel so responsible now for everything that happened and I can’t live with myself—”

“—Aberdeen, are you apologizing right now because I wasn’t traded?” Tyson asked. Aberdeen didn’t respond. “Aberdeen, come on. You’re not the general manager or the president.”

“But I could have helped—”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he shook his head. Though his words were short there was a softness and a sentimentality in his voice, even a hint of surprise that she’d even go so far as to feel responsible for not being able to deal him to another team. He understood what she was getting at, understood why she was mad and was feeling this way, but ultimately, he was shocked that she was getting so emotional over it. “You’re not responsible for that sort of stuff, Aberdeen. I know you were trying to help, and I thank you for that, but the responsibility of what happens on trade deadline day falls on absolutely nobody in this room, not least the personal assistant to the president.”

She sniffled slightly. “I just thought that if I told him he’d be more inclined—”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he shook his head, looking her in the eye. “But thanks. I appreciate what you did in its own way. Just remember that it’s not your job to write the narrative.”

He was telling that to an aspiring writer. Go figure. But Aberdeen took in the words, really took them to heart, as she nodded her head quickly. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. And I don’t hate you,” Tyson said. “I see where you’re coming from. Just maybe don’t try to do it again.”

She let out the slightest of chuckles. “Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“William? What are you doing in Aberdeen’s room?”

Everybody whipped their heads towards the doorway to see Brendan Shanahan peeking in. Aberdeen thanked the fucking Lord (and would probably pray the entire rosary tonight) over the fact that she was able to control her emotions and not cry during the interaction, and also that two of the men currently in her room were married with children and the other had a serious girlfriend or else it would all look very suspicious. Brendan took a few steps in and saw Jason, Jake, and Tyson. He didn’t look suspicious, but he didn’t exactly look happy. He had a neutral look Aberdeen couldn’t make out. “I’m not sure if I like four of you in Aberdeen’s room like this,” he said.

“That’s my fault,” Jake piped up immediately. “I was forcing her to come out to eat with us. I was making sure she had at least something to eat since she kept saying no. Tys and Spezz followed to make sure, too.”

Brendan’s look became much more neutral at Jake’s words. “Hmm…I get it. Healthy meals and all. But she can order room service if she doesn’t want to go out. She’s been up for the past two days almost.”

Jake smiled. “Her words exactly. We were literally just on our way out.”

“Have fun boys,” he said, dismissing them. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, Aberdeen.”

She nodded. Everybody filed out of her room, each one of the giving her one last look before leaving. William was last, of course, letting his look linger for longer than the rest before letting the door close behind him. She let out a deep breath.

love how that was the closest we’ve ever been to getting caught and i wasn’t even in ur room

The text came from William not even two minutes after he left. Leave it to him to make light of it, she thought. But it was the following text that got her thinking.

can u tell how the boys wouldn’t say a word now?

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onomonopetabread · 4 years ago

Text

Declawing the Cat- Chapter 2

“ Can you believe that nerve of that jerk?”

Marinette was absolutely furious. Tikki watched her from the bed as she paced from wall to wall. It was really getting concerning; she’s been ranting for the past three hours. School ended about five hours ago, but Marinette’s little encounter with Felix never left her mind.

“What, did he think that a few thoughtless compliments would get me to trust him? Who does he think he is, the MaYOR?”

That last part was a particularly loud shriek, and if Tikki had eardrums, they would be completely shattered by now. It was time to stop this madness.

“Mari, I know that you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But… don’t you think that you should calm down? You’ve been at this for a really long time.”

Marinette hardly heard her. “I really tried. I tried to just leave it alone. But nooo, he just had to go and rock the boat! Can’t the guy take a hint? I mean, if someone didn’t talk to ME after giving the third fakest apology given ever, I would know that they hated MY guts.”

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

The group gathered around Felix. He’d just been introduced to the class by Adrien, and it didn’t seem as though they were very happy to see him. They were making so much noise that no one had noticed the lack of a certain blue-eyed class president. Unbeknownst to them, Marinette was crouched behind a pillar near the courtyard, watching and listening to the entire thing.

She had been uncharacteristically early to school and was chatting with Tikki in the locker room when she heard Adrien’s voice outside. Naturally, she'd begun to walk outside to greet him. The fact that she had decided to try to get over him out of respect for Kagami doesn’t make it illegal for her to talk to him; he is her friend.

When Marinette first stepped out of the room, her first thought was that there were somehow two Adriens. Then she realized that one Adrien looked like...Adrien, and the other looked like a sad old man somehow ended up in a teen’s body. In about 0.2 seconds, she was absolutely seething. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he at his comfortable home in the ninth circle of hell?

“Guys, this is my cousin Felix. He’s going to be attending school with us for now on. I know you guys will take him in with open arms.”

Open arms? This clown? Marinette scoffed. She’d sooner swallow a cup of tacks than let that prick into her life. Her classmates however, aren’t as strong-minded as she was. It’d probably be better if she stayed silent and invisible for this and let them make up their own minds about this, just to see what they would do.

“Why should we trust anything he has to say? He hasn’t exactly given us any reason to like him.”

“Yeah, how can you expect us to just become friends with us after what he did? He’s a liar!”

Okay, so far so good. Maybe this time around, she wouldn’t be (almost) the only person that didn’t trust a liar. Oh, how great it will be to openly loathe for once! One by one, more and more voices were protesting letting the rat into their friend group. The entirety of the class was hanging Formally-Dressed Draco to dry, and Marinette was in ecstasy.

‘Yes,’ she thought. ‘Tear him to pieces!’

Just when things were really starting to escalate, the sound of someone clearing their throats cut through the noise.

“Hello, everyone. As Adrien just told you, my name is Felix Graham de Vanily. To answer your question, Mr. Le Chein, yes, I’m the cousin of Adrien’s that impersonated him and sent you a cruel response to your heartfelt videos. For that, I am deeply sorry. I have no excuse for wha-”

What. In. The. World. If Marinette was furious before, she was positively incandescent now. He really was another Lila! Not to mention the fact that he didn’t even have the decency to make the apology seem even slightly convincing. Anyone with an EQ of 3 could see that those puppy-eyes were rehearsed and don’t even get Mari STARTED on that pout. There was no way that her class would buy this, but by the looks on their faces…

“If you’re really sorry...”

…Of course. Of-freaking-course they would believe him. Marinette sighed and walked into the classroom. Once again, she was left to hold the class’ single brain cell, by herself this time since there was no chance in Adrien distrusting his own cousin. Now how was she going to go about this was the question. If he really is Lila 2.0, then her initial plan to outright hate him will boomerang her right in the eye. No, it’s better to just avoid him at all costs; you can’t hate what you never come into contact with.

“Are you really sure that’s going to work, Marinette?” Tikki asked once they were safe inside the room. “You can’t stay away from him forever, you know. He may be a nuthead, but he’s smart enough to notice when you aren’t fawning over him like the others.”

“I know Tikki, but I think I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, I’m going to go above and beyond to make sure our paths never cross.”

“That’s a relief. I thought for a moment there that you were going to do the rational thing for once.”

“Really, Tikki? Sarcasm? That’s beneath you.”

“If you’re looking for a finger to point, blame Plagg. You pick it up after being with him for a few thousand years.”

Marinette stayed true to her word and made it her mission to never be in the same room as the Great Disturbance unless it was class time. Even then, she kept a compact with her so that she could see if he was coming up behind her. Whenever someone began to bring him up into a conversation, she would quickly but subtly change the subject.

After a few days of this, she seemed to really be getting the hang of it. Avoiding him was becoming second nature to Mari. It actually would have been way easier for her if the demon hadn’t kept trying to collect her soul. Like always, Tikki had been right. The little son-of-a caught on to her really quickly and didn’t hesitate to try to reach out to her. In fact, the other classmates would often tell her that he had been looking for her, and she’d had to act as though she didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. That part hadn’t been so easy.

“So, what are you going to make for the big competition, Mari? A dress maybe?” asked Alya.

“Actually, I was thinking about sewing up a pair of suits. I’m not sure what they’ll look like yet, but I really want to try something new this time.”

“Well, I know whatever you’ll make will blow their socks off, girl. Speaking of designers, Felix told me to ask you to meet him after school . He said he wants to talk to you.”

“Is that so?” Marinette asked, feigning surprise (see bane-of-existence, you’re not the only person who can act here).

“Yeah, he really seemed to have taken an interest in you. All he ever asks us is what you're up to. It’s almost an obsession. Do I sense a little romance here? Another blond-haired green-eyed love interest?”

“Not very likely, Alya. Anyways, I guess I’ll have to talk to him later. So, are you going to tell me about your new reporting piece or what?”

What? Don’t give me that face, it’s technically not a lie; Mari did end up talking to him later, didn’t she? Though, to be fair, she wasn’t planning on actually interacting with him until they both passed. No, not passing class. The other pass.

One thing that she had learned about the knock-off Five Hargreeves was that she had greatly overestimated him. For the love, the kid wasn’t fit to kiss Lila’s feet. At least her schemes were clever and thought-through; this amaetur just existed and everything was handed to him on a silver platter. The rest of the class has spoiled him into thinking that it would be easy to capture her attention with a tense grimace of a smile and two ounces of ‘charm’. Unfortunately for him, Marinette Dupain-Cheng wasn’t so easily bought.

So, that’s the way it went for a few weeks; a classic game of cat and mouse. He would try to catch her, and she would slip out of reach at the last minute. If she had to admit it, it was very fun, especially sneaking peeks at the frustrated faces the devil makes when he thinks no one is looking; the coward can’t be emotionally vulnerable for a second.

That’s why she felt so sure that he wouldn’t follow her to the park; the place was way too open for a stand-offish guy like him. She was very safe in the great outdoors with nothing but her sketchpad, a sharpened pencil, and a sleeping Tikki in her purse. She had been working on that design that she was talking about with Alya. Marinette really needed this design to be perfect. Perhaps a double-breasted suit would work? How many buttons would she have to buy? If she was any deeper into her work, she might not have noticed the distinct smell of leather and the tears of the innocents approaching her. She just barely retained her composure.

‘What is he doing here? Whatever, perhaps if I just stay completely still, he’ll go away.”

“Ah, Ms. Dupain-Cheng! How lovely it is to see you. We never seem to talk, do we? It is quite a shame really.”

‘It would also be a shame if you were to get punched where the sun doesn’t shine, Mr. Pied Piper’, Marinette thought. Alas, no matter how much she wanted to move her hand like so, she couldn’t let him win this fight. No, just silent-treatment it out and pray he either leaves or gets struck with a lightning bolt.

“I must say, that is a lovely suit you’re designing there. I love the use of gold thread on the pants. If I may make a few suggestions-”

Him? Give fashion advice? Marinette would rather NOT learn how to dress like an off-brand Crowly, thank you very much. Good grief, he really wasn’t going to stop trying, was he? Alright, no more Nice Marinette.

That’s when she finally snapped and, well, you know how that went. Had it been ANYbody else, she probably would feel guilty for talking to someone so blatantly, but it turns out that she left that situation with zero regrets. If she didn’t put a stop to this whole ordeal, she’ll probably have to carry around a tiny halberd with her for the rest of her life, and as much as she would like to use it, he really wasn’t worth the trouble. Ugh, he makes her absolutely Sick. He’s so slimy, terrible, arrogant, deceitful-

“MARINETTE JOSEPHINE DUPAIN-CHENG BE QUIET!!!!”

Marinette was so startled she tripped over her chaise and fell onto her bed.

“Geez, Tikki! Couldn’t give a girl a warning before you scream like that?”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. The Mayor. And for the record, I did give you a warning; I’ve been calling your name since for the past hour. Are you really going to get all worked up over this, Mari? You said it yourself, he’s just another Lila.”

“I know Tikki, and I’m sorry I’ve been rambling on for so long. It’s just- yeah, he’s a liar, a fake, and way too stoic to be real, but he’s different from Lila. I don't know what it is about him, but I can’t help but wholeheartedly loathe him. Just the thought of him makes a shiver run down my spine.”

“Loathing. Right. That’s it, totally. Is that why you haven’t said his name this entire time.”

“As a matter of fact, yes. I’m very happy you noticed, Tikki. I spent a lot of time thinking up all of those insult names.”

“I’m sure you did, Marinette,” Tikki sighed. “You really don’t like this kid, do you?”

“No, I definitely do not, and not a fiber of my being will ever so much as be happy in his presence for as long as I live.”

@ceres-zephyr here u go!

Chapter 3’s up!

https://qualityladybread.tumblr.com/post/632447827994411008/declawing-the-cat-chapter-3

#felinette #felix x marinette #marinette x felix #felix graham de vanily #marinette dupain cheng #declawing the cat #chapter 2 #PLEASE COMMENT AND INTERACT IM SO BORED

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khunvegas · 4 years ago

Text

Buddie Fanfic Rec Part 2

Sharing more amazing fics from some amazing writers. if you see someone that you know, please, tag them so they know they are loved too

A Calendar, $100 and a Bad Idea by @evandiaz-buckley

“Let me get this straight,” Eddie said slowly, “you bet Hen $100 you’d make this year’s fire fighter calendar but you failed to read the entry form which states the theme is fire fighter couples?”

Eddie agrees to be Buck's fake boyfriend despite knowing he is hopelessly in love with his best friend and it's a terrible idea.

a touch too close by @theleftboobgrabber

Eddie was always in his space, and Buck was always in his. Piled up on couches; pressed close at the diner table, forearms touching, glued from thigh to ankle; hugging hello and goodbyes; shoving at each other after a shower; always a hand on each other back, shoulder, waist; always touching.

And it had been fine. Great. Until it turned too much.

A Truth About Eddie by @tabbytabbytabby

After two and a half years of being friends with Eddie, Buck discovers a startling truth about him.

Blush by @halloucinogens1 @infinityonmilehigh

Evan Buckley, though? He was Eddie’s kryptonite. His weakness. One look at that innocent face and those puppy eyes and the words would just tumble out of Eddie’s mouth like he had no control of it, like he’d been temporarily possessed by a very flirty demon who liked tall, blonde, pretty guys named Evan.

Lately, Eddie can't seem to get his mouth to stop betraying him.

Closer than I've ever been by suyari

“I love you, Buck.”

Buck smiles softly. “I love you too, Eddie.”

Frustration rallies and Eddie shifts, pushing himself up until they’re level with one another again. “No,” he says firmly. “You don’t understand. I said I love you, Buck.”

Buck’s smile widens, his eyes going soft and fond. “Eddie…” he says, warmth filling his voice. “I know.”

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes by buddiebuddie (positivelystisaac)

"This candidate. Evan Buckley. He, uh, needs someone to reign him in.” “What do you mean?” Eddie asked. “Oh, you’ll see.” And see, Eddie did.

Nearly two years before Buck is elected to the presidency, Eddie is assigned to lead his Secret Service detail. Like, love, hate, and mutual annoyance ensue, though not necessarily in that order.

Fineline by @buttercupstrand

Eddie knows he has feelings for Buck, and he'd be crazy to miss the signs that Buck felt that way about him too. He doesn't miss the flirting, the quick glances. He knows they always make bullshit excuses to be together. always standing a little too close for just friends, always holding on to each other longer than just friends should.

But he knows there's a fine line between feeling something and then acting on it and that's a line Eddie thinks he'd never be able to cross.

I might have to tell you by @ingu

“Maddie, I made Chris a promise and I can’t finish this list. There’s no way I’m going to get away with all of this.”

“Really though?” Maddie said, and Buck could almost see her playfully doubtful expression. “You don’t think you might be over-exaggerating just a little?”

“Maddie, the list says to kiss Eddie.”

(the one where Christopher gives Buck a list of how to cheer Eddie up while he's gone, and Buck accepts without reading the terms and conditions first)

It Will Last Longer by @matan4il

Eddie wasn’t supposed to see those pictures, he’s completely aware of that. He’s suitably embarrassed of having stumbled across them, but look, it’s not his fault. Lockdown does weird things, accidents happen and, by chance, he came across his best friend’s thirst trap pictures.

Shameless porn that I just had to write the other day when Oliver posted those life ruining pictures on Twitter.

Liminal places by @theleftboobgrabber

After the train and Abby, Eddie cannot let Buck go.

“You’re impossible,” Eddie growls. He is. “And we’re not done talking about that stun you pulled on the train. What am I supposed to do if you freaking die on me?”

This is the heart of the problem. Eddie… Eddie would be heartbroken if Buck was to date someone, but he could take it. But losing Buck completely? No. just… no.

Buck swallows around the bit of omelet he was chewing on without enthusiasm. Again, he throws Eddie completely off. “The English teacher, obviously.” He says it like it’s a done thing really, already pissed off by it.

And that- that enrages Eddie to no end. “Fuck you.”

Pulse Points and Imperfect Words @mansikkaomenabanaani

Eddie decides to do something about his feelings for Buck.

say the word and i'm yours by quietuniverse

Buck falls victim to Eddie and Chimney's latest prank, which for whatever reason happens to be swapping out his phone background for a photo of Eddie that makes his mouth go dry.

And it's fine, really. Not weird to take a second to appreciate a nice photo of your handsome best friend. Nothing to see here, carry on.

It's fine until everyone starts noticing Buck's reluctance to change the photo.

take a breath, hold it in by @ta1k-less

“Are you an idiot?”

That’s the first thing Buck hears as he’s hauled back over the side of the pier, soaking wet and shivering so hard he might bite his tongue off. Eddie is glaring daggers at him, hissing curses in Spanish so quick that Buck, who’s currently trying to suppress the sound of a tsunami siren going off in his head, has no hope of translating.

“Y-yes?”

Talk About It by @lardominyardo

You want to send me your dickpic?

Just to see if it looks okay.

Buck starts sending Eddie his dick pics before he sends them to other people.

Eddie doesn't know why he decided this was a good idea.

The Jealous Kind by @buttercupstrand

“Alright, it your turn” Buck smiles at TK before sparing a glance at Eddie and Carlos “Okay, they’re looking should I come over there and put my hands around your waist or something, lean in really close and stuff”

“yeah, pretty much”

aka the one where TK and Buck fake flirt to see if Eddie does anything.

the weekly bet (but the forever kind) by @theleftboobgrabber

When the squad bets on how long it will take for Buck and Abby to get back together when she comes back to LA, Eddie is forced to reconsider keeping his feelings for Buck a secret.

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles, hiding his face deep in his pillow, even if Buck can’t see him in the dark.

“What for?”

Leave it to Buck to be confused about something so obvious.

“Being you, idiot.”

“And again with the name calling,” he answers, content and sleepy.

Nights like this, Eddie feels like asking for a miracle.

But to the team, it wasn’t a matter of

Abby would take him back, but

when. A matter of days.

Time Makes You Bolder (Children Get Older) by SevenSoulmates

There’s a new resident moving into the suite across from Buck’s.

“What’s his name?” Buck asks.

“Eddie Diaz,” Nurse Corra tells him. “Hey, you know Eddie is also a retired firefighter."

Eddie Diaz, new recruit, a voice echoes in his mind.

“Huh.” Buck says. "Never heard of him."

We Fell In Love Dancing Kizomba by @imyourbuddie

After tragedy strikes close to home, firefighter Eddie Diaz moves him and his son, Christopher, to LA where they can start fresh. Single fatherhood, new job, and a new town stretch Eddie thin, and his biological Dominant needs are barely met. But the fear of repeating the same mistakes keeps him strung tight and unable to let loose.

Evan "Buck" Buckley loves cooking and teaching children in his cooking class. He's a Submissive, this is what he's supposed to do, what his biology is made to do, and he's good at it. But Buck's always had a dream that's so farfetched for a sub that he never dares to even voice it.

When Christopher asks to take a cooking class for children, the two men's worlds collide. Eddie needs to learn to let go, and Buck needs to learn that there's more to life than just tradition and expectations. And maybe, just maybe, they can find happiness along the way.

weak in the knees @realchemistry

Buck simply asked the happy couple a question.

He really should've kept his mouth shut.

When it comes to an end (I will want you to plea) @winters-blue-children

After the lawsuit, Buck and Eddie are casually sleeping together. Eddie tells himself it doesn't mean anything more than that. An unexpected incident at work brings up something Buck thought he'd long buried behind him and makes Eddie re-evaluate his feelings for his best friend.

When morning breaks by adamngoodbatch (sibbed)

Because, for all the love that Buck has for his job, 24-hour shifts still suck. And a sandwich of four 24-hours shifts on a row sucks even more.

It just sucks.

Buck thinks they suck even if they get a whole week free afterward. Even if he gets to go home and rest right after it. It just sucks. He knows how he gets after a 24-hour shift.

Buddie Fanfic Rec Part 1

And I believe in putting yourself out there, so these are mine

#buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction #9 1 1 fox fanfic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #9 1 1 fox #this fandom keeps on giving high quality

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faithbetryin · 4 years ago

Text

Five Hargreeves X Reader | 6

(from my Wattpad: @FaithBeLovly)

Part 6

Pairing: Five Hargreeves X Reader

Word Count: 1,546

Everyone looks at Vanya as she makes her case. "The basement. Where Dad kept me."

Luther stands up. "Right, we take him there." Vanya blinks a few times, shaking her head.

"Wait- No, we use it only as a last result. Five is reasonable, we can- we can talk to him about it." Vanya's face showed concern, which must've been her main facial expression from how her light wrinkles lined around her eyebrows and her mouth. Luther makes an argumentative face, but Klaus and Diego side with their shortest sister on this one.

"She's right. Last time anyone was kept down there, shit went to shit. Remember that, Luther?" Diego says, pointing at him. Luther looks at him with an irritated frown.

"Yeah, I remember. Okay, okay, we don't lock him up. What's our next move then?" You walk around the couch to look at Five. He looked so frustrated. You didn't like seeing him like this. He was helpless in this limp state. You look around at all of his siblings, deciding it was unacceptable not to say something at this point. You had to defend Five, even if it was from his own family members.

"Reason with him, that's your option." You say, crossing your arms to make yourself feel more safe. Five's eyes were the only thing that could move without any trouble, which was evident from how he looked at you. "Whatever he's hiding from you all, it's for a reason. He doesn't do anything without a good reason." Allison scoffs,

"I'm sorry, who are you?" You feel so small from how confident she spoke. She put you right in your place, beneath them. You didn't have any powers like they did. You were insignificant to these people. What were you thinking? Trying to tell them what to do about their own brother?

"Their name is (Y/N), and Five likes them, so why don't we be nice to them? They could be our future in-law!" You blush extremely hard from Klaus' statement. It was nice that he defended you, but did he have to do it like that? Allison's brow raises in interest and then speaks to you again, but in a more considerate tone.

"We haven't met. I'm Allison. I wasn't aware Five had friends." Five makes a groan noise from behind his limp tongue. "But I do agree with you. As insane as he sounds most of the time, he does have a lot of reasoning behind what he does," She looks around at all her siblings, "He always has." Everyone seems to ponder on this, and from how quiet the room was, they decided you and Allison were right. Diego nods and gives you an accepting look. He was very intimidating looking, but at least he looked at you with mere kindness now. Klaus quickly claps his hands together a few times, happy to see that everyone was on the same page. Vanya smiles the slightest bit at you, showing her appreciation for your efforts to defend Five. Luther nods and shares a look of authorization with Allison. Allison returns the look and looks at her little brother.

"I heard a rumor," Five's eyes clouded with fog, his now white eyes staring blankly, "that your body regained control of itself." After a moment or two, Five's eyes return back to their gorgeous blue beauty. He lets out a heavy sigh as he shakes his limbs around, testing out if he had control again, which to your relief, he did. He stands up, which makes everyone's bodies tense, preparing to chase after him. Five notices this and puts his hands out to show him he was good, that they had a deal. He sits back down to make them feel more comfortable.

"Now tell us what the hell is going on, Five." Luther says, accepting that this decision led to a good outcome. Five looks at him with a slight smirk. He crosses his right leg over his left, folding his hands together on his bony knees.

"First, I'll need a decent cup of coffee." he says, getting comfortable on the couch. Luther scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning backwards. Diego puts his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyelids in frustration. Klaus walks around the couch to the bar area, shouting,

"On it!" You look at Five and shake your head with a small smile on your face. You knew he was gonna savor every moment being needed by his siblings. He wasn't going to give anything up until he felt respected.

"And if you even mumble any rumors at me again, I'll cut your hair in your sleep, Allison." Five says with his first finger pointed at her. He would never threaten to hurt his sisters like he does with his brothers. But he knew how much Allison cared about her appearance. And he hated feeling helpless, not in control. Allison looks at him and nods, holding her hair between her fingers. Vanya covers her mouth to hide her snickering, happy to see Five back as his normal self. You felt the same way as Vanya, and to be honest, you two would probably get along really well.

Klaus eventually comes back with a cup of coffee and hands it to his brother in culottes. Five nods as a thanks to him and sniffs the hot beverage before stating,

"This is the same dreadful brew from the kitchen, but I'll let it slide just this once." He takes a sip and closes his eyes, making a disappointed face before opening them again. "So you found the picture. Well to point out what might not be obvious to you all, you're looking at a picture of dad. From 1963, the day Kennedy was assassinated." Diego looks up at him.

"What relevance does that have?" He asks, his brows furrowed with speculation.

"It has all the relevance, Diego. Not only is it the same day as the president's assassination, but it's also in the same place." Luther makes a hysterically confused face.

"Why? Dad didn't mention anything about experiencing that to us." Everyone turns to Luther.

"He didn't tell us anything!" Diego shouts at him. He was clearly so frustrated with how naive Luther was about their father. You wondered what he did that pissed all of them off so much. Years and years later. "What the hell was he doing there?" Five shakes his head.

"That's the thing. I don't know. All I know is, if we don't find out, our lives will forever be plagued by an inevitable apocalypse." he says, his eyebrows full of concern.

"What do you mean? We stopped Vanya before. We worked out her feelings with her. Why would there be another apocalypse?" Allison asks. Five turns his gaze to her and shakes his head again.

"I think we might've only delayed the apocalypse. Meaning the odds of it coming back again is very, very likely."

"Five!? Why are you telling us this now? Why not tell us as soon as you found out!?" Luther asks, feeling quite upset.

Five stands up and sets his mug of coffee down onto the coffee table. He walks towards you, turning around to give him the last of his remarks. "Because I wasn't one hundred percent sure of it yet, Luther. I'm still not certain yet. I don't make crap decisions based on a hunch like you, Numero Uno. This is life and death we're playing with here and I'll be damned if I'm going to make another mistake at the risk of family." Everyone was silent. They knew he was very serious about what he said. They weren't sure how to feel now. Vanya chews on her nails, wondering if she might cause the apocalypse again. She turns on her heels and runs upstairs in distress at the thought. Five looks at you and puts his hand on your shoulder before walking with you to the doors of the academy. He opens the door for you and you both walk out.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his hair messed up from the wind. You make a face and laugh a little.

"I should be asking you. That was scary. How did she do that to you?" You ask, waiting for a reasonable explanation. You knew it wasn't going to be reasonable though. There was nothing normal about this place, these people. But you were used to feeling that way, yourself.

"I'm fine. Allison has the very powerful ability to rumor anyone to do anything- to mind control, essentially. She's made her life on it. Getting what she wants, getting who she wants." He sighs and shakes his head. "But I'm okay. Just... stressed."

You nod and take his hand. "But you'll figure it out right?" You ask him, trying to encourage him. He seems caught off guard with being so supported by someone. He smiles genuinely and squeezes your hand a bit before leaning in and kissing your cheek. You blush very hard, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks. The feeling of his thin, soft lips had you swooning. You loved being so close to him. He pulls away and looks at you with appreciation in his eyes.

"Yeah, we will." He says.

#five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #tua x reader #hargreeves x reader #x reader #5 hargreeves #hargreeves #tua #tua fanfic #theboy #the umbrella academy #number5 #umbrella academy #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy imagines

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elexica · 4 years ago

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Second Chance Christmas {{ December 26 }} - Last Chapter -

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/69446895

"I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Full chapter under the read more!

Joey had awoken either alone or to the sounds of needy children almost every morning for the last three years. At first, waking up without Seto there was a relief—he didn’t have to deal with him or any of the intensity that came with Seto Kaiba.

Eventually, he did miss him in that bleary moment. It was frustrating that the first few minutes of his morning, every morning, were dedicated to a feeling of loss.

Even that had faded away. For a while now, waking up in his own bed didn’t inspire any thoughts of Seto. Joey had returned to a state where his mornings were not tarnished by Kaiba’s absence.

But his taste of Christmas with the man—the kind one who had so graciously been a part of his family, not the cold one, who left into the snow without a second thought—was enough to leave Joey tormented.

Waking up alone had never seemed as empty than the morning of that day after Christmas. He opened his phone screen, tapped the world clock app, and saw that it was already late in the evening in Domino. Kaiba had no doubt already landed and returned to his life, as if nothing had happened.

The entire good experience melted right off of Kaiba. Back to his old life, his old ways. Unchanged, unaffected.

It felt like there was broken glass inside Joey's chest. It was almost nauseating to feel so disconnected after everything that had happened.

But something had happened. Something had changed, Joey was sure of it. And things could be different.

He had gone to sleep so troubled with these conflicting thoughts, but sitting in his quiet bed, watching the snow sprinkle down, he had a new sense of clarity.

When he closed his eyes, he could see their future stretch in front of him, days and weeks and years sprawling across the room.

Joey would never get rid of all of those things that Kaiba had left behind. He was a sentimental bastard, and at least he knew who he was. Joey’s eyes hit the wedding photo lingering in his room. If Joey couldn’t even toss out the extra turtlenecks after three years, Joey was not optimistic he’d ever fully clean out the house and wipe all the traces of Kaiba from the home.

And goddamn it, he knew Kaiba too.

That man wasn’t going to move on either.

So, Joey supposed, they might just keep doing this. Every time they exchanged the kids, would Kaiba tag along for some ill-advised tryst? Like an addiction, circling back for another self-destructive hit, knowing nothing could really change.

Or would he avoid Joey like the plague, and instead every few years fall into some act of God that would leave them to another excruciatingly loving experience.

How many times would his life be uprooted by falling back in love with that asshole? How many longing touches would they scatter across decades?

Playing enemies while secretly pining for each other? Damn it, hadn’t they already gotten that out of their system?

Joey was so fucking sick of missing him.

Kaiba was too stubborn, and maybe too hurt, to make the move. Joey hated the emotional responsibility that fell on his shoulders.

But, Joey wondered, had he actually laid it all on the line? He never once asked Kaiba not to return to Japan. He blocked the door, but he didn’t actually say it. He showed up at the airport, but he didn’t actually say it.

His ex-husband had the emotional intelligence of a brick on a good day. Joey wasn’t just as bad as Kaiba for not just saying it. But Joey sat in bed, the cold covers pooling around him, and considered that he could be part of the problem.

And maybe, if he wanted them to be back together, he had to do it. If he didn’t want to live this way forever—he was in a position to change it. He wasn’t corporation stock, he wasn’t an asset, something without any control over what Kaiba did.

So Joey got up. He made himself some coffee. It was seven in the morning, but he was sitting at the kitchen counter, dated laptop jammed open, on the speakerphone with Serenity before the hour was over.

Everyone always admired Kaiba’s force of will. A personality that could overcome every adversity, defy reality itself, control space and time. Master the global marketplace, dominate the NASDAQ, and change the fabric of society.

But Joey’s force of will was something else too. And he wasn’t going to wait for however many years it took for Kaiba to admit that he wanted to stay there, in their home, raising their children together.

If he had to, he’d drag the bastard straight from Japan. His dumb husband was just waiting there, getting old and sad in some fancy condo.

And so he spent the entire plane ride to Domino city trying to figure out exactly what it was that he wanted to say to set his stupid, stupid man straight.

. . .

“Mokuba?” Joey hoped it was still the right phone number. The Kaiba brothers were always updating things, changing software, making their communication methods that much trickier to obtain. It was a real possibility that this phone number now only went to a stranger.

“Jounouchi! What’s up? How are you doing? The kids are growing up so freakin’ cute!”

Joey was disarmed by how warm Mokuba always was. And it laid bare just how little he’d really thought through the plan. “Um, well, I’m in Domino. I’m here to see…” Joey almost said Kaiba. But it was off-putting to refer to their shared last name. It never bothered him as a teen, but as an adult it sometimes hit Joey that Mokuba probably didn’t love the traces of language that made it clear that he was the secondary Kaiba when it came to these affairs. Still, Joey wasn’t sure he was allowed to call him Seto anymore.

“Ah, I see. Nii-sama just got back yesterday. Seto didn’t tell me any of the details, but…” Mokuba’s tone shifted. “Everything okay?”

The question was stingingly sincere.

Joey sighed on the other end of the line. “Yeah, you know your brother. I mean. Look. I’m in Domino and I guess I just need to see him. It’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb,” Mokuba interrupted, sounding more adult than Joey had ever heard. It was like he really was getting an edict from the esteemed Vice President of Kaiba Corporation.

“Yeah. Can you get me a badge or whatever to visit his office. We need to talk and…”

“I see. He can’t be allowed to dodge it, huh?”

Joey laughed, despite himself. It was a bit mournful, but it wasn’t totally devoid of life. “Nope.”

“Yeah, I can hook you up. I’ll get the pass sent to your phone.”

Joey nodded, even though his phone was conventional, and Mokuba couldn’t see him. “Thanks. And congrats on getting married. From what I’ve heard, she sounds like a keeper.”

Joey could hear the glowing smile on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, I think so too.”

. . .

The lobby of Kaiba Corp. HQ was mostly unchanged since the last time Joey had seen it, though it looked somewhat creepy in the dark. It was lightly, tastefully, decorated for the season. Twinkle lights on some of the pillars, echoing in the dark like suspended lightening bugs.

So close to his goal, Joey stalled. He paced in the empty cavern of the lobby. Maybe he shouldn’t bother. Maybe this whole adventure was some twisted flight of fancy, brought on by watching one holiday film too many. Did he look too closely at the snowflakes trapped in Kaiba’s eyelashes and see something that wasn’t really there?

In the middle of his troubled, nervous walking, Isono appeared. Put together and just like Joey had seen him when last trading off the kids. Sunglasses on—even though it was the dead of night in the deepest part of winter. Stern and silent, Isono directed him to the elevator.

Isono never had much of a relationship with Joey. The man had watched him at most major life events outside of his house for the fifteen years preceding the divorce. Joey realized that his presence was somewhat more comfortable than all of the anonymous faces Joey had passed by in the once-familiar city.

The floor indicator increased quickly as the two men rocketed toward the top floor, where Kaiba could properly brood over the entirety of Domino.

In the stilted silence, they arrived at the top floor, and Isono put his arm out to stop the elevator doors.

“It is good you are here,” Isono said. Something about his voice sounded reflective, and it gave Joey the confidence he wished he did not need.

The city glowed in the background, pulsing like magma. Kaiba sat at his broad desk, illuminated by the blue light laptop in front of him and the ethereal glow of the city at his back. Joey was pissed that when he walked in, Kaiba didn’t bat an eye. It felt as if Kaiba had set the appointment.

Joey wondered to himself whether Mokuba had messaged him, or inadvertently triggered some alarm in procuring the pass. Even so, Kaiba was where he was supposed to be, sitting in his dark office, typing away at whatever it was he did all day.

Since the grand entrance did not have the desired effect, Joey proceeded to stomp over to Kaiba’s desk, push down the screen of the laptop, and kiss him.

This succeeded in starling Kaiba, his blue eyes wide in surprise. Almost too shocked to kiss back. Almost. Kaiba still reached a hand across, thumb skimming over Joey’s cheek.

“Y’know why I did that?” Joey asked, breaking the kiss.

Kaiba shook his head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “No, I—what are you doing here?”

Joey propped himself up on Kaiba’s desk, sweatpants-clad butt shifting a stack of papers.

“I kissed you because I wanted to. And I’m here because I want to be. And I didn’t buy a return ticket, Kaiba. Because I want to fly back with you.”

Kaiba opened his mouth to speak, but Joey silenced him with a hand.

“I’m gonna make it really simple for you, cause apparently this is hard for you.” Joey announced. “Here’s the situation: I broke up with you because you refused to be part of the family in the way that I needed. You were acting like a bad partner, and I did not deserve that. But… You… you proved that you could be a good partner. So here’s the deal.”

Joey walked forward, completely enveloped by Kaiba’s heated stare. “I want you. I want you to be at the house. I want to raise our kids together. I want to go to sleep in the same bed with you, I want to wake up in your arms, I want a lot of other things.”

Kaiba wisely kept his mouth shut, opting to watch Joey with soft, sad eyes. Joey wasn’t going to let it get to him.

“And I think you want that too. You were happy this week. A lot. And this is sappy but I’m gonna lay it out.”

Kaiba gestured with one hand that Joey should continue. The darkness didn’t leave much for Joey to see, but the way that the glare of the city glinted off of his eyes… it looked a little like water was pooling. Joey took that to mean that his evaluation was correct, enough—Kaiba did love to correct people.

“I don’t know how many special moments, or special people we get. And I don’t know how many days I’ll get to look over and see you. And what a mess you are and how strangely you hide that and… and you know what?!”

Kaiba opened his lips a little, but didn’t have anything to say. So Joey dismounted from the desk and continued.

“I came here, cause I’m done wasting my time. You talk so much about your precious time, how busy you are. But my time is mine, and I’m sick of watching the kids grow up without you. I’m sick of not seeing the magic parts of you, and the genius and the… we fit together, damn it! We’re both fucked up, we’ve got no idea how to do any of this. But I want to figure it out with you.”

Joey realized he hadn’t been breathing as he let it out. He took a breather, trying to collect his thoughts, wiping at his own face.

“So. Yeah. I have a proposal for you. Fly with me back to New York. Let’s try again. Like, really try. You actually be part of this—like my partner. We’re too old for the on-again off-again bullshit. I don’t want to have to get over you. And honestly, I’m worried you’ll never get over me.” Joey shrugged, “You’re not really the moving on kinda guy.”

Finally, Kaiba stood up behind the desk. His shadow was so imposing, a terrifying mixture of height and darkness. “So what? You want me to be on vacation forever?”

Joey hadn’t anticipated that much vitriol in his voice. He had been pretty proud of his speech.

“No. But... you are just as free as you want to be.”

Joey wanted to run, felt the fight or flight instinct lighting up in his gut. But he was finally done retreating. Joey walked towards the silhouette.

“I’m going to ask you—just once more—do you want to do this? Not my way, and definitely not your way. But some new way that we can find together.”

“I am not a man of compromises, Jounouchi.” Kaiba turned away.

“When you want something, really want something, nothing can stop you. That’s what I’m counting on.”

“When have you known me to do anything by halves, Jounouchi?”

“The last year of our marriage.” The answer had been given almost instantaneously, but it hung in the air for a full minute. “But you’re right, I don’t think that’s really who you are. So, come back to New York. And prove it to me.”

Joey took one more step forward. He could feel Kaiba’s tense breath, they were so close. “You can be emotionally constipated on your own time. I’ll go first: I’m sorry for not being more honest and just telling you what was going on. Now it’s your turn to apologize.”

“What do you want me to apologize for?” Kaiba demanded.

“You’re the genius. Whatever you think will be enough to convince me to let you come back to the house so that we can live our lives together. The way we were meant to.”

“I don’t—” Kaiba started.

“Do not call my bluff, Kaiba. You really don’t feel sorry about any of this?” Joey waved his arms, gesturing at everything.

“… I…” Kaiba looked out at the vast city below, glowing electric with holograms and New Year’s decorations.

“You don’t have to say it. The best apology is shaping up. And I know you get it. I’ve seen you get it. So please. Just… was it that bad? Just being my husband for a few days?”

“No.” Kaiba refocused, look drilling into Joey. “I regret allowing you to labor under the assumption that our relationship was not important to me. That you were not the brightest light in my life.”

Finally, achingly slow and gentle, Kaiba tilted his head down and pressed a kiss to Joey’s forehead.

“I cannot promise that it will never happen again. But I can promise that I am not giving up on us.”

Fin.

#puppyshipping #Violetshipping #seto kaiba #Kaiba Seto #Jounouchi Katsuya #Joey Wheeler #it's FINALLY OVER #i worry it is a little threadbare #maybe I'll revise it someday #but for now #hope y'all enjoy

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Crown Princess of Charming - part 11

Welcome to Charming - its name says it all. Cat needed a fresh start; and though she hadn’t planned on that being in the arms of the crown prince of this little town’s bikerclub - that was what happened. Charming CA would either be the death of her - or a whole new life.

Rated M

Tags (let me know if you want on the list) @wonderlandfandomkingdom @edonaspanca

We went back into the clubhouse shortly after – having spent a while holding each other; and calming ourselves down. Clay saw the scratch on Jax’s face; and looked at me, before turning to my old man. “We good here?”, he grumbled. Jax sneered at him. “What do you think?”, he said. “Let’s just finish this”.

They disappeared into the meeting room; joined by the rest of their brothers. The door was closed behind them; and the drapes blocked my view of the room. I let out a deep breath; and went to gather my thoughts in a corner. Guns. Heroin. Prison. Death… Gemma came over to hand me Abel. “Cat…”, she began. “Not now, Gem’”, I said quietly. She nodded, and walked away. The broken-nosed porn-star came over and handed me a mug of coffee. I drank it in silence.

Church was short. The door opened; and the guys came out of the room; somber expressions on their faces. Jax sent me a knowing look. The vote passed. I didn’t know how to react. I repeated be strong, in my mind – like a mantra – but I couldn’t help but feel like I would begin screaming at any point.

I handed Abel to Lyla; and walked outside. Sitting down by a picnic-table; I put my head between my knees; breathing deeply. My heart was pounding so hard; I didn’t notice Clay sitting down next to me. “Gemma said you did good in there”, he muttered. “You’ll be a great queen someday”. “Not for a while; I’m sure”, I said; trying to keep my voice calm. Clay sighed. “Jax fill you in?”. I nodded. “We need this”, he said. I scoffed. “You care what I think?”, I said. “You already took the vote”. He shrugged. “Jax does”, he said. “You are the tipping point of most of his decisions these days… I want to make sure we’re on the same page”.

His cold voice sent chills down my back; but I couldn’t bend over and take it from this man. “You don’t know me, Clay. Not really. And I don’t know you”. I clenched my jaw in suppressed anger. “But what I’ve seen so far… You – your decisions – they scare the shit out of me. I’m worried about Jax; and I’m worried about our boy”. “You have nothing to worry about”, he said; trying for earnest.

I turned and looked hard into his eyes. “You’re the president of this club… and I’m sure you could snap me like a twig if you wanted to”, I said. “But if you hurt Jackson – or Abel – in any way… I’ll kill you myself”. He nodded. “Fair enough”.

Jax and Tig joined us; and Jax frowned at Clay, before looking at me. “Everything all right here?”, he said. “Your old lady just threatened my life”, Clay smiled. “I’m liking her better and better every minute”. “Time to go”, Tig said. Clay nodded; and he and Tig went to their bikes.

Jax got up close to me; and lifted my chin with his index finger. “Together…”, he whispered. “Together”, I nodded. He kissed my lips softly; and went to join the others.

“Tig!”, I called after the black-haired biker. “When you come back… there’s a chick with a broken nose in there. I promised her your dick for the night”. Tig grinned. “My penis is at your disposal, my lady!”.

They drove out of the lot; and I closed my eyes – letting out a deep sigh.

---

The next few hours passed in a haze. I was constantly checking my phone for any word from Jax – fighting the urge to take Abel; and run away.

Gemma hovered over me; having crow-eaters and porn-stars – some of them one and the same – bringing me food and trying to cheer me up. I politely turned them away; not able to eat or drink before I saw Jax again.

Opie joined me at my table; lighting a cigarette for me. “I haven’t told Lyla”, he muttered. “Can I ask you to do the same?”. I chewed my lip. “Why?”, I asked. “She’s not as strong as you”, he said. “I have to… protect her. She has a past with coke”. I nodded. “It’s not my place, Opie. But you need to figure out, if you want to start a marriage on a lie”. Opie frowned. “Yeah… I know”.

We sat in silence for a bit. “You hear from the hospital? Phil?”, I asked. “He’s conscious. The fat took most of the blow”, Opie chuckled. “We owe him a patch…”. “You do”, I agreed. “Ope…?”. “Yeah?”. “Chibs talked about retaliation… What did you do, to get you into this?”.

Opie looked around for people listening. He swallowed. “We’ve been laying it pretty hard on The Nords”, he muttered. “Trying to keep drugs out of Charming… That body that was dumped at Cara Cara; it wasn’t our kill – but whoever left it; wanted to make it seem that way”. I frowned. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?”. Opie shook his head. “Let’s just say, there is more than one reason for Jax to dislike this deal with those alt-right guys”, he said. “And I agree”.

At nightfall, there was a rumbling of bikes outside; and soon after Tig, Clay and Jackson where walking through the doors. Jax came in last; and made a beeline for me – pulling me into his arms. “It’s over, Cat”, he whispered into my ear. “It’s done. We can go home”. I exhaled; not truly in relief – more like exhaustion. “Is it, though?”, I muttered. Jax shook his head slightly. “I hate this shit… hate what we’re doing”, he said. “But we’re safe. For now”. I kissed his lips. “Let’s try to stay that way”.

Clay stepped into the middle of the room. “Everybody! We’ve dealt with the situation. Lockdown is over. You’re all free to go home”. There was a mumble of relief among the people in the room. “If you feel unsafe at any point; if you hear word of something off – you let us know. For now… go home. Especially if you have kids. This place is going to be an adults only party in a few minutes”. He grinned; and croweaters and porn-stars alike, began throwing their arms around the necks of bikers everywhere. I noticed Tig dragging miss broken-nose into a corner; and attacking her with deep kisses and sweet words.

Mothers began gathering up their children; and I waved goodbye at Rina – who was still carrying the skateboard around. “Unicorns forever!”, she called out to me; and I grinned; pumping my fist into the air.

I began gathering up my belongings; and walked to the dorm to grab the diaper bag. Jax followed me. “Gemma says she can take the kid; if you want to stay”. I shook my head. “Don’t really feel like celebrating… I need to go home’”, I said quietly. “To clear my head… You can stay”. He took my hand; and pulled me against his chest. “I go where you go. I need to be with you right now”. He looked sad.

I stroked his cheek. “Talk to me”. He frowned. “I feel like shit, Cat”, he said quietly. “I hate what I just agreed to do”. His hands gathered around my back, as if praying. ”We’re not… this. Samcro does some bad shit; but drugs…”. He grimaced. “It makes me sick”. “You can’t end it?”, I asked. He shook his head. “We’re in too deep at this point”, he said. “I gotta pull us out smart”. “You will”, I said; and kissed the corner of his lips.

---

We got our stuff, and headed out to get Abel; and bring him home. The clubhouse had turned from kindergarten to strip club within seconds of the kids leaving. Opie and Lyla had slipped off as well; and Jax gave his mother a kiss goodbye. I smiled at Gemma; and she winked at me. Jax picked up Abel; and we headed outside; leaving behind the music and cheers from the partying crowd.

Outside; Chibs and Bobby were sharing a joint; and muttering silently amongst each other. “We’re going home”, Jax said. “You all right after that, Jackie?”, Chibs said. “It is what it is”, Jax muttered; and hugged his brother – letting the scot stroke Abels cheek. “We’ll talk later”. “This isn’t good, VP”, Bobby said. Jax sighed. “You know how I feel, Bobby”, he said. “Let’s just get through this”.

A dark escalade drove in to the lot – Stahl getting out of the passenger seat to greet us. “Mr. Teller!”, she smiled. “I came in to get my car checked out yesterday. Was told you were shut down”. “Come back tomorrow”, Jackson said tiredly. Stahl grinned. “Well, seeing as I’m already here; I might as well take care of some business”.

The bubble of rage and frustration in my chest burst; and I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Get your skinny ass back in that car; and drive away. Now!”, I demanded. Stahl looked at me with surprise. “Well, that was rude, Catherine!”, she said. “I’m just having a conversation with your old man”. “Bullshit. You’re trying to cause trouble; because you want to push him into doing something, you can bring him in on… What is your obsession with Jackson?”, I said. “Are you jealous? You want him?”. She scoffed; and looked towards Jax. “Please…”. I smirked. “Maybe it’s me you want. Is that it?”. I bit my lip. “Sweetheart, believe me; I swing every which way – but I do prefer my ladies with a little less Botox”. I heard Jax stifle a laugh behind me. “Let’s go, babe”, he said; and began moving towards my car.

Stahl’s smile disappeared. “No, kitty-girl is coming with us”, she said. “We’re bringing her in for questioning regarding the murder of Joshua Kohn”. Jax’s face dropped; and I froze in place. “You’re what?”, he croaked. “You’re arresting her?”. Stahl shook her head. “No, not yet… we’re still unclear on which one of you, to charge”.

I tried to collect myself. “I’m not talking to you without my lawyer”, I snarled. Chibs was on his phone behind me; trying to get a hold of Lowen. “Well, we’ll make sure you’re safe and sound until she arrives. Come along”. A suited agent stepped out of the car; and walked over to me; grabbing my arm. Jax tried to step between us – Abel beginning to whimper in his arms. “Don’t touch her. You can’t do this!”. “Oh, but I can”, Stahl smiled.

“Lowen is in San Fran’”, Chibs said. “Can’t be here until tomorrow afternoon”. Bobby took Jax’s place between me and the agent; letting Jax cuddle a crying Abel. “Step away from her; before someone gets hurt”, Chibs said. “Assaulting a federal agent is illegal as well; Scottie”, Stahl said. “I don’t think doctors give notes for that”.

I collected myself. “I’ll come down to the police station tomorrow. With my lawyer”. Stahl shook her head. “No can do, honey”, she said. “You might make a run for it”. I ripped my arm from the agents grasp; and stepped over to Jax – taking Abel from his arms. “I don’t think you understand the meaning of family, agent Stahl”, I said calmly.

I walked away from her; and went to my car; strapping in my stepson in his car seat. Jax sent me a knowing look; and walked to his bike. “I’ll have someone watching the house tonight”, Stahl called after me. “Make sure you’re safe until our meeting tomorrow… there are criminals around, you know”.

Jax turned to face her again. “I’d ask you to blow me; but I’m like my old lady”, he smiled sarcastically. “The Botox hasn’t done you any favors, sweetheart”. He got on his bike; and followed my car out of the lot.

---

“Are they still out there?”, I asked Jax – after having tucked Abel in, in his nursery about an hour later. Jackson was by the kitchen window; looking outside. “Two cars… down the road”. He gestured towards a pair of expensive looking suburbans parked a little way off. I sighed frustratedly. Jax stroked my cheek. “You’re ok, baby”, he said. “They can’t touch you without Lowen present. You’ll sleep in your own bed tonight”.

“My own bed”, I smiled. “Still sounds weird”. “Weird good, or bad?”, Jax asked. I bit my lip. “As long as I’m sharing it with you; it’s very good”.

Jax grinned; and leaned in to mold his lips to mine. His hand traveled down my side; and he tugged at the hem of my tank-top. I opened my lips; letting his tongue find mine for a second; before I pulled back. “They’re watching…”, I whispered; and looked out the corner of my eye towards the cars outside. Jax smirked. “Let’s give them a show”, he whispered; and grabbed my bottom; lifting me up to sit on the kitchen counter; with my back to the window.

Blood rushed to my core; and I gasped. Jax pressed his growing erection towards my warmth; and I realized it had been days since I’d had him inside me. “Jax…”, I rasped; and jumped a little; when his lips traveled to the secret spot on my neck. He ran his teeth over it gently; and I heard him chuckle at my responsiveness to his touch. “I’m here, darlin’”, he breathed. His lips moved down to my left breast; nibbling gently at the fabric of my top; tweaking my nipple through it and my bra. “And I’m here too…”. I gasped hard; when he unbuttoned my jeans; sliding two fingers down the waistline of my panties; tugging at my pubic hair. “And here”, he whispered; and pulled me of the counter. He pulled down my jeans and panties; leaving them hanging around my ankles, so I couldn’t walk.

He set me back up on the countertop; and slid his fingers between my warm, wet folds. I was shaking from excitement and lust; and I grabbed on to Jax’s neck – pulling him in for a heated kiss. My lower body was hidden from the agents outside, by the low hanging curtain in front of the window; exposing my nakedness only to Jax. All they could see, was my back; and how it arched against his touch. Even as I was sitting elevated on the counter; Jackson still managed to tower over me somehow. His stance was tall and proud; and he looked at me like I was a precious work of art. His index finger flicked my clit; sending a jolt through my body; from the delicious sensation. He bit his lip; and sent me a devilish grin. “Showtime”, he breathed; and dove two fingers into me; before sinking to his knees; and burying his face in my warmth.

I cried out. Jackson’s tongue slid all over my folds; lapping me up – before sucking hard at my clit; and crooking his fingers, rubbing my g-spot with just the perfect amount of pressure. I threw my head back; and moaned. Jax let go of my nub. “They still watching?”, he grinned up at me. “Why?”, I croaked. “Are you considering putting on the nipple tassels?”. He growled slightly; and attacked my clit again.

My legs began shaking, as Jackson pushed hard against my front wall; and before long, I saw the sun, moon, and the stars all at once. My walls clenched around Jax’s fingers; and I made a sound somewhere between a mewl and a scream. Jackson was relentless; insistent on drawing out my pleasure; and I pulled his hair hard to get him to let go of my nub.

Jax stood up, and wiped his face. “Living room. Christening. Now!”. He yanked my jeans and panties all the way off; and I got off the counter. Jax pulled me in for a deep kiss; and looked behind me; at the agents in the cars outside. He sent them the middle finger; and walked towards the living room – pulling me with him.

I pulled off my top and bra; and suddenly had a very insistent biker latched on to my nipple. Jax turned me around; and smacked my ass cheek. “Couch. All fours”, he snarled; and removed his t-shirt. His heaving chest let me know he was not messing about. “Yes, sir”, I smiled sweetly; and got into position.

I heard Jax’s belt unbuckle, and a silent thud; when his pants hit the floor. I looked back at him; and bit my lip; as he removed his boxers – exposing his throbbing erection. “Hard or soft?”, he asked. “Any way you want it”, I smiled. He smirked for a second; before hardening his expression. “Eyes front, baby”. I looked forwards; and waited.

It seemed like an eternity, before he made a move. It was so quiet; and for a second I was afraid he’d left the room – when suddenly his blunt tip probed my entrance; and he slammed into me with a groan. His hands grabbed my hips; and he began thrusting hard into me. “I think I got bigger”, he moaned. “No, I just got tighter”, I retorted. He laughed, and smacked my ass again.

“I’m gonna marry you some day”, he chuckled. I looked over my shoulder at him, and smiled. “I might let you”.

---

Just after noon the next day; Jax and I were seated at the kitchen table with Lowen. “Good news”, Lowen said. “They found Kohns bag in a motel room”. I frowned. “My motel?”. “He’d been staying two doors down from you”. I shuddered at the thought. “What was in the bag?”, Jax asked. Lowen opened a file-folder. “GPS-locators; addresses and files in relation to your old job, and your new one”. She handed me prints of pictures. “These are images of you from both Chicago and Charming. Apparently, he had a camera set up in the air conditioner”. I riffled through the photos, letting Jackson look at them with me. “Shit”, I muttered.

Lowen nodded. “I decided to forego looking at them. I’ve been told some of them shows you and Jackson… well, you can see for yourself”. Jax took one of the pictures from my hand. “At least he got my good angle”, he said. The picture he was holding, showed me straddling Jackson; head thrown back in the throes of passion; and Jax’s face grimacing in extasy, as he held on to my breasts. I took the piece of paper back from him, and put it down on the table – backside up.

“Everything points towards your story of him stalking him, being true”, Lowen said. “So, self-defense holds up?”, I muttered. Lowen let out a breath. “There was a witness that saw you and Opie outside the cabin; when the shot was fired”, she said. I scoffed. “Great… so what’s the good news?”. “The witness was drunk on moonshine. His testimony won’t hold up well in court”.

I grimaced. “Can’t we avoid a trial all together?”, I asked. “If it’s only hanging on one witness…”. Lowen looked at me earnestly. “I’m quite sure we can keep you out of jail. But Jackson…”, she sighed. “This ATF-business isn’t going to go away. They’re going to keep dragging Cat’s case, to push her to flip on you”. “Not happening”, I said; shaking my head. “They need Jax at the scene, because they don’t have anything else on him. They need Kohn’s death to take him down – and I killed Joshua”. “They don’t have enough on you, yet; Jackson”, Lowen said. “I heard about your lockdown at the club; and you were spotted meeting with members of the alt-right movement… Stahl is gunning for you”. Jax leant back in his chair; and squeezed my thigh. “I’ve always been popular”, he smirked.

Lowen suddenly looked uncomfortable. “There’s something else…”, she said. “Before Stahl springs it on you… It wasn’t just peanuts and shotguns in that escalade with you, Cat. There were also drugs – Rohypnols. And he’d brought some toys”. “Not the fun kind, I gather”, I muttered. “Let’s just say, he had a lot planned for you”, Lowen said.

Jax’s hand slammed into the table. “I should dig that asshole up; and kill him again”, he snarled. “I didn’t hear that”, Lowen said. “Look, I know this is hard to hear; but it all points to you being a victim of kidnapping and attempted rape. You reacted by defending yourself; and killing Kohn in self-defense”.

I chewed my lip. “The witness… is he the one who called it in?”. “No”, Lowen said. “Apparently they were already looking for you”. I furrowed my brow. “Why? No one knew I was gone, but the club”. “My guess; Stahl was in contact with Kohn. He let her know his plans for taking you back to Chicago”. “She knew?”, I croaked. “She knew what he was going to do to me…”. Lowen shook her head. “We can’t prove that”, she said. “For all she knew; Kohn would have simply brought you back east; and let you go”.

I closed my eyes, suddenly dizzy. “She set you up, Jax”, I said quietly. “What do you mean?”, Jackson asked. “She’s the only one, other than you, who knew I was gone”, I said. “She knew you’d kill him; and she needed that to take you in… end club business”.

Lowen began packing up her bag. “You’re going to have to take this sit-down with Stahl”, she said. “Anything else will seem like obstruction of justice”. I nodded solemnly. “Ok”, I whispered. “But I’m sticking to my story”. Lowen shrugged. “That’s up to you, Cat”, she said. “I’ll do what I can to keep you protected legally”. Jax sighed. “Just… keep her out of jail. Whatever it takes”.

“Do you think they’ll keep me? Lock me up?”, I asked. “They can’t”, my lawyer answered. “Not unless they arrest you; or claim it would be a danger to you, to let you go”. She sent Jax a look. “This isn’t going to be Donna all over again”, he snarled. “I’m not letting that happen”. I frowned. “What are you talking about?”, I said. Jax clenched his jaw; and looked at me hesitantly. “Lowen”, he said. “Could you give us a minute?”. “I have a few calls to make, anyway”, Lowen smiled. She got up; and left the kitchen.

I took a deep breath; and looked at Jax. “What happened?”. “This ain’t the first time Stahl has caused trouble for us”, he said. “She set up Opie – made it look like he snitched… that’s how he lost Donna”. I felt cold all over. Jax read my expression; and took my hand. “Cat… that’s not an issue here. After what you did for me – for us – with Kohn… no one doubts your loyalty”. I was not soothed by his words. “You’re telling me, the club had Donna killed?”. Jax looked pained. “It’s not… it’s over. We’ve moved beyond it”. I frowned. “You’ve moved beyond it?”, I sneered. “Opie? That was the mother of his children!”. “I know”, Jax said quietly. “And he’ll get his retaliation on Stahl. Somehow”. I scoffed. “She didn’t pull the trigger…”. “She might as well have”, Jax scowled. He stood up; and pulled me to my feet. “That woman… plunged a knife into the heart of my club. She had my best friends wife killed… and it looks like she’s doing an encore on you”. I shuddered. “Am I… will that happen to me?”. Jax shook his head; and pulled me into his arms; leaning his face into the crook of my neck. “I will never let that happen”, he whispered.

Lowen appeared in the doorway. “Cat? I’m sorry; but we need to go”. My hands were shaking; but I nodded. “Ok”, I whispered. “Let’s do this”.

---

An hour later I was seated in an interview-room; Lowen at my side – and Stahl seated in front of me; with a smug smile on her face. “Thank you for coming, Catherine”, the agent said. “I had hoped we could have this meeting sooner; but I had a Botox-appointment”.

“Can you get to the case?”, Lowen said. “Why are we here?”. Stahl shrugged. “Well, I don’t know why you are here”, she said. “Your client is not under arrest… yet. I just want to have a conversation with her”. Lowen smiled. “Then; we’ll just be on our way”, she said. “My client has already given her statement; and you can’t hold her”. “I can, and I will; if I deem it necessary for her safety”, Stahl sneered; before looking towards me. “And I think it might be… Cat; do you know what Jackson Teller does for a living?”. I shrugged. “Mechanic… small business owner”, I said.

Stahl opened a file. “That business you’re talking about… are you aware it involves gun- and drug-trafficking?”. I raised my brows in an exasperated expression. “I’m an old lady. I don’t know anything”. “Hmm…”, Stahl sighed. “That house he has you kept in… you think auto-parts payed for that?”. “I’m not kept”, I snarled. “No?... Who pays the bills right now? It’s not your teachers-salary”. I leant back in my chair. “No, Kohn saw to that”, I said. “Did you help him?”. Lowen put a hand on my shoulder. “Cat… not now”. Stahl grinned. “No; I want to hear this… Are you suggesting I somehow helped agent Kohn in his actions towards you?”.

Lowen smiled. “So you agree… Kohns actions towards my client were severe; and bad enough for her to have to act in self-defense, and kill him”. Stahl sighed. “It is beginning to seem like that”, she said. “But if you think for a second that you’re safer with Teller; you are mistaken”. I scoffed. “Stop beating around the bush”, I said. “Am I being charged with murder?”.

Stahl stuck out her chin. “I can’t prove that you killed him in cold blood… in fact, we can’t find evidence, that you killed him at all”. Her face darkened. “You weren’t even in the room when he died”. I clenched my jaw. Lowen cleared her throat. “Get to the point, Stahl”. The agent looked at me seriously. “You’re bedding a murderer, Catherine”, she said. “Jax came in to that cabin, and killed Kohn; for taking you away from him… you’re a popular girl, kitty”.

I swallowed bile at her use of the nickname. “Let’s say he was… how would he know where to find me?”, I said. “I didn’t leave any clue as to where I was going…”. Stahl narrowed her eyes. “Someone must have told him”, she answered coldly. “Huh…”, I said. “And how did you know where I was? How did you even know that I was gone?”.

The agent didn’t answer – she hadn’t expected me to be able to put the dots together. “Agent?”, I said. “You say I’m in danger… help me understand how I ended up here”. “I can help you”, Stahl said. “Get you out of this clean… I just need your cooperation”. I leant in and looked at her menacingly. “Is that what you told Donna?”, I hissed. Stahl looked taken aback for a second. “Donna… was a good woman”, she said. “What happened to her… it shouldn’t have”. “No… that, we can agree on”, I responded. “Putting someone in a situation, that ends in a person’s death…”. Stahl pulled a face. “We talking about Donna, or Jax?”, she challenged. I tilted my head. “You tell me…”.

Stahl realized she’d over-spoke. “We’re done. This is your last chance. Tell me what really happened; Catherine – you can go home… re-start your life”. I smiled. “Oh, I’m going home. To my man and my step-son”. I stood up, and walked towards the door; Lowen at my heels. “This is our last meeting”, I said. “Anything else you have to say; can go through my lawyer”. “You’re playing with a dangerous man, Catherine!”, Stahl called after me.

I turned to look at her; smirking. “We play many games, agent”, I said. “The agents you had watching the house last night, can probably attest to that”.

We left the police station; and I took a deep breath. Bitch… you’re going down.

---

Lowen dropped me off at TM. I went straight into the clubhouse; and up to the bar. “Rat… drink”, I demanded. “What kind?”, the prospect asked. “Top shelf. Strong”.

Jax came out of the meeting room with Clay. He almost sprang over to me. “What happened?”, he asked. “She messed up… that’s what happened”, I growled. “What are you talking about, teach’?”, Clay asked. “She pretty much straight up admitted that she put Jax on the scene with me and Kohn”, I said. “You think she’s the one who contacted Darby? Told him?”, the president said. I shrugged. “I don’t know… but it’s pretty clear she’s used to setting people up”.

Jax ran a hand down his face. “That bitch…”, he snarled. I shook my head. “This is my fault”, I muttered. “I should have stayed. If I hadn’t left with Kohn… you’d have never had to come get me”. He took my hand. “No… Catching me at that meth-lab would have put me in almost as deep”, he grumbled. “It wasn’t exactly deserted when we got there… we left a few bodies in our wake… One of the reasons Happy had to burn it down”.

Clay let out a deep breath. “All right”, he proclaimed. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow. Give my best to Laroy”. Jax nodded; and Clay left the clubhouse.

I chewed my lip for a second; resolving to ask Jax something that had been on my mind, since he got back from his meeting the day before. “Baby, can I ask you something?”. He looked at me earnestly. “Anything…”, he said. “Rat, get lost”. The prospect ran off. “What’s up, darlin’?”. I took a deep breath. “Chibs mentioned the lockdown being due to retaliation…”, I began. “I asked Opie about it. He mentioned the dead body at Cara Cara”. Jax frowned. “Yeah… It was Darby’s cousin… our cousin-brother. I don’t know what that white trash group gets in to when they’re not dealing”. I smiled slightly at his joke. “You think that alt-right group did it?”, I said. “Pushing you to work with them; by creating a reason to attack you?”. He clenched his jaw. “I can’t prove it…”.

“Shit…”, I sighed. “It feels like my head is about to explode”. He pulled me into his arms. “Let me take you home”, he breathed. “Neeta’s dropping off Abel in an hour”. I frowned. “You have to come back here?”. He stroked my cheek. “Yeah… we have a drop in Oaktown tonight. It’ll be a late one”. I couldn’t help but pout. “Ok…”, I muttered. “I can have Rat with you; if you’re uncomfortable alone…”, he said. I shook my head. “Not the company I’d hoped for tonight”, I said – looking at him through my lashes. Jax grinned in surprise. “I thought you’d be tuckered out from your meeting”, he said. I slid a hand under the hem of his shirt; slightly touching the skin of his lower back. He let out a soft breath from my touch. “Just a little… I have a few rounds left in me”, I smiled.

Jax put his lips to mine; sliding his tongue between my lips to meet mine – and pushing his groin towards me. “I’ll be home to take care of you as soon as I can”, he whispered. “I’ll make it a soft one this time…”. “Not too soft”, I smirked. He pushed against me harder, sending a jolt through my loins. “That’s impossible, babe”, he grinned.

---

I spent the rest of the day caring for Abel. He was teething; and being especially fussy. I calmed him down with a teething ring I’d been keeping in the freezer; and the baby was finally fell asleep around midnight.

I was exhausted; but at the same time giddy to spend some quality-time with my man. The house was hot as hell; and I reminded myself to talk to Jax about getting an air-conditioner. I took a shower, and put on some perfume and a robe. I tried putting on some makeup; but almost stabbed myself in the eye with my mascara; giving up. A bit of lipstick would have to do.

At 1 am; my eyes were drooping. Jax hadn’t checked in; and I decided to just go to bed – a little disappointed, and very sexually frustrated. I fell asleep almost instantly, on top of the covers; only wearing my robe.

Something slid up my inner thigh; and I jolted. “Shh, baby. It’s me”, Jax whispered. “Just lay still…”. I blinked; and met his eyes in the darkness. “Jax…”, I breathed. He opened the belt of my robe; and ran his hand down my chest and belly. “You want to go back to sleep?”, he whispered; and kissed me just above my bellybutton. I bit my lips; and shook my head. Jax grinned.

“Just lay back and relax”, he breathed. He pulled of his shirt and t-shirt; before leaning down to gently blow at my left, then right nipple. They both responded by perking instantly; from the cold air hitting them. Jax’s warm mouth enveloped the left one; as his fingers worked the right one. I was already breathing shakily.

Jax removed his pants and boxers; and laid down next to me. I felt his hardness against my thigh; as he put his leg over my right one – pulling at it to spread me open for him. I turned my head to face him; sighing in contentment. “You’re tired… maybe we should wait until tomorrow”, he smirked. I pouted. “No… wake me up…”, I begged. Jax grinned; and ran his hand down my torso again; ending up running his fingertips through my pubes. I yawned. “Really?”, Jackson scoffed. He slid his index finger over my clit. I jolted. “That’s better…”.

His lips found the sweet spot on my neck; and I bit my lip. Without entering me with his fingers; he continued working on my nub; making my whole body tingle deliciously. Jax warm breath against my skin made me shiver. He put his arm behind my head; holding me to him. I began panting – letting out little squeaks from delight. “My favorite sound”, Jax snickered. Suddenly it felt like my vagina went poof; and I came from his touch. “There we go”, he grinned; and moved his finger from my clit to his mouth – tasting me. I put my hand behind his neck; and kissed him passionately.

Jackson; crawled over me; placing himself between my legs. He slid into me with a quiet moan. “Talk to me, baby”, he whispered. “This good?”. “Mmhmm”, I breathed. “It’s good…” Jax chuckled. “You’re half way asleep”, he smiled. “Don’t stop”, I said.

Jax thrusted in to me a bit harder. I gasped. I slid my arms around his; feeling the movements of his muscles under his skin. I panted softly; and let out small mewls into the crook of his neck. Jax kissed me again; before speeding up his movements. “Give me one… just one”, he panted. I smiled; and clenched my muscles around him; making him groan. He came inside me; his sounds of release pulling me with him; and I clenched again – involuntarily.

Rolling on to his back; Jax pulled me with him, so I was laying on top of him. “I love you, sleepyhead”, he whispered.

I fell asleep with him inside me.

---

#jackson teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fic #jax teller #jackson teller fic #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fic

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livingdeadinsideyourhead · 4 years ago

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Free Music in a Capitalist Society - Iggy Pop's Keynote Speech Transcript

Hi, I'm Iggy Pop. I've held a steady job at BBC 6 Music now for almost a year, which is a long time in my game. I always hated radio and the jerks who pushed that shit music into my tender mind, with rare exceptions. When I was a boy, I used to sit for hours suffering through the entire US radio top 40 waiting for that one song by The Beatles and the other one by The Kinks. Had there been anything like John Peel available in my Midwestern town I would have been thrilled. So it's an honor to be here. I understand that. I appreciate it.

Some months ago when the idea of this talk came up I thought it might be okay to talk about free music in a Capitalist society. So that's what I'm gonna try to talk about. A society in which the Capitalist system dominates all the others, and seeks their destruction when they get in its way. Since then, the shit has really hit the fan on the subject, thanks to U2 and Apple. I worked half of my life for free. I didn't really think about that one way or the other, until the masters of the record industry kept complaining that I wasn't making them any money. To tell you the truth, when it comes to art, money is an unimportant detail. It just happens to be a huge one unimportant detail. But, a good LP is a being, it's not a product. It has a life-force, a personality, and a history, just like you and me. It can be your friend. Try explaining that to a weasel.

As I learned when I hit 30 +, and realized I was penniless, and almost unable to get my music released, music had become an industrial art and it was the people who excelled at the industry who got to make the art. I had to sell most of my future rights to keep making records to keep going. And now, thanks to digital advances, we have a very large industry, which is laughably maybe almost entirely pirate so nobody can collect shit. Well, it was to be expected. Everybody made a lot of money reselling all of recorded musical history in CD form back in the 90s, but now the cat is out of the bag and the new electronic devices which estrange people from their morals also make it easier to steal music than to pay for it. So there's gonna be a correction.

When I started The Stooges we were organized as a group of Utopian communists. All the money was held communally and we lived together while we shared the pursuit of a radical ideal. We shared all song writing, publishing and royalty credits equally – didn’t matter who wrote it - because we'd seen it on the back of a Doors album and thought it was cool, at least I did. Yeah. I thought songwriting was about the glory, I didn't know you'd get paid for it. We practiced a total immersion to try to forge a new approach which would be something of our own. Something of lasting value. Something that was going to be revealed and created and was not yet known.

We are now in the age of the schemer and the plan is always big, big, big, but it's the nature of the technology created in the service of the various schemes that the pond, while wide, is very shallow. Nobody cares about anything too deeply expect money. Running out of it, getting it. I never sincerely wanted to be rich. There is a, in the US, we have this guy “Do you sincerely wanna be rich? You can do it!” I didn’t sincerely want to be rich. I never sincerely felt like making anyone else that way. That made me a kind of a wild card in the 60's and 70's. I got into the game because it felt good to play and it felt like being free. I'm still hearing today about how my early works with The Stooges were flops. But they're still in print and they sell 45 years later, they sell. Okay, it took 20 or 25 years for the first royalties to roll in. So sue me.

Some of us who couldn't get anywhere for years kept beating our heads against the same wall to no avail. No one did that better than my friends The Ramones. They kept putting out album after album, frustrated that they weren't getting the hit. They even tried Phil Spector and his handgun. After the first couple of records, which made a big impact, they couldn't sustain the quality, but I noticed that every album had at least one great song and I thought, wow if these guys would just stop and give it a rest, society would for sure catch up to them. And that's what's happening now, but they're not around to enjoy it. I used to run into Johnny at a little rehearsal joint in New York and he'd be in a big room all alone with a Marshall stack just going "dum, dum, dum, dum, dum" all my himself. I asked him why and he said if he didn't practice doing that exactly the way he did it live he'd lose it. He was devoted and obsessive, so were Joey and Deedee. I like that. Johnny asked me one day - Iggy don't you hate Offspring and the way they're so popular with that crap they play. That should be us, they stole it from us. I told him look, some guys are born and raised to be the captain of the football team and some guys are just gonna be James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause and that's the way it is. Not everybody is meant to be big. Not everybody big is any good.

I only ever wanted the money because it was symbolic of love and the best thing I ever did was to make a lifetime commitment to continue playing music no matter what, which is what I resolved to do at the age of 18. If who you are is who you are that is really hard to steal, and it can lead you in all sorts of useful directions when the road ahead of you is blocked and it will get blocked. Now I'm older and I need all the dough I can get. So I too am concerned about losing those lovely royalties, now that they've finally arrived, in the maze of the Internet. But I'm also diversifying my income, because a stream will dry up. I'm not here to complain about that, I'm here to survive it.

When I was starting out as a full time musician I was walking down the street one bright afternoon in the seedier part of my Midwestern college town. I passed a dive bar and from it emerged a portly balding pallid middle aged musician in a white tux with a drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. He was blinking in the daylight. I had a strong intuition that this was a fate to be avoided. He seemed cut off from society and resigned to an oblivious obscurity. A bar fly. An accessory to booze. So how do you engage society as an artist and get them to pay you? Well, that's a matter of art. And endurance.

To start with, I cannot stress enough the importance of study. I was lucky to work in a discount record store in Ann Arbor Michigan as a stock boy where I was exposed to a little bit of every form of music imaginable on record at the time. I listened to it all whether I liked it or not. Be curious. And I played in my high school orchestra and I learned the joy of the warm organic instruments working together in the service of a classical piece. That sticks with you forever. If anyone out there can get a chance to put an instrument and some knowledge in some kids hand, you've done a great, great thing.

Comparative information is a key to freedom. I found other people who were smarter than me. To teach me. My first pro band was a blues band called The Prime Movers and the leader Michael Erlewine was a very bright hippy beatnik with a beautifully organized record collection in library form of The Blues. I'd never really heard the Blues. That part of our American heritage was kept off the major media. It was system up, people down. No Big Bill Broonzy on BBC for us. Boy I wish! No money in it. But everything I learned from Michael's beautiful library became the building blocks for anything good I've done since. Guys like this are priceless. If you find one, follow him, or her. Get the knowledge.

Once in secondary school in the 60's some class clowns dressed up the tallest guy in school in a trench coat, shades and a fedora and rushed him in to a school dance with great hubbub proclaiming "Del Shannon is here, Del Shannon is here." And until they got to the stage we all believed them, because nobody knew what Del Shannon looked like. He was just a voice on some great records. He had no social ID. By the early 60's that had really changed with the invasion of The Beatles and The Stones. This time TV was added to the mix and print media too. So you knew who they were, or so you thought anyway. I'm mentioning this because the best way to survive the death or change of an industry is to transcend its form. You're better off with an identity of your own or maybe a few of them. Something special.

It is my own personal view having lived through it that in America The Beatles replaced our assassinated president Kennedy, who represented our hopes for a certain kind of society. Didn’t get there. And The Stones replaced our assassinated folk music which our own leaders suppressed for cultural, racial, and financial reasons. It wasn't okay with everybody to be Kennedy or Muddy Waters, but those messages could be accepted if they came through white entertainers from the parent culture. That's why they’re still around.

Years later I had the impression that Apple, the corporation, had successfully co-opted the good feelings that the average American felt about the culture of the Beatles, by kind of stealing the name of their company so I bought a little stock. Good move. 1992. Woo! But look, everybody is subject to the rip off and has to change affiliations from time to time. Even Superman and Barbie were German before America tempted them to come over. Tough luck, Nietzche.

So who owns what anyway. Or as Bob Dylan said "The relationships of ownership." That’s gates of Eden. Nobody knows for long, especially these days. Apparently when BBC radio was founded, the record companies in England wouldn't allow the BBC to play their master recordings because they thought no one would buy them for their personal use if they could hear them free on the radio. So they were really confused about what they had. They didn’t get it. And how people feel about music. ‘Cause it’s a feel thing, and it resists logic. It’s not binary code. Later when CD's came in, the retail merchants in American all panicked because they were just too damn tiny and they thought that Americans want something that looks big, like a vinyl record. Well they had a point but their solution was a kind of Frankenstein called "The Long Box." It didn't fool anybody because half of it was empty. It had a little CD in the bottom. You’d open it up and it was empty. Now we have people in the Sahara using GPS to bury huge wads of Euros under sand dunes for safe keeping. But GPS was created for military spying from the high ground, not radical banking so any sophisticated system, along with the bounty it brings, is subject to primitive hijacking.

I wanna talk about a type of entrepreneur who functions as a kind of popular music patron of the arts. It’s good to know a patron. I call him El Padron because his relationship to the artist is essentially feudal, though benign. He or she (La Padrona) if you will, is someone, usually the product of successful, enlightened parents, who owns a record company, but has had benefit of a very good education, and can see a bigger picture than a petty business person. If they like an artists’ style and it suits them, they'll support you even if you’re not a big money spinner. I can tell you, some of these powerful guys get so bored that if you are fun in the office, you’ll go places. Their ancestors, the old time record crooks just made it their business to make great, great records, but also to rip off the artist 100%, copyright, publishing, royalty splits, agency fees, you name it. If anyone complained the line was "Pay you? We worship you!" God bless Bo Diddley.

By the time I came along, there was a new brand of Padron. People like this are still around and some can help you. One was named Jack Holzman. Jack had a beautiful label called Elektra Records, they put out Judy Collins, Tim Buckley, the Doors and Love. He'd started working in his family record store, like Brian Epstein. He dressed mod and he treated us very gently. He was a civilized man. He obviously loved the arts, but what he really wanted to do was build his business - and he did. He had his own concerns, and style, and you had to serve them, and of course when he sold out, as all indies do, you were stranded culturally in the hands of a cold clumsy conglomerate. But he put us in the right studios with the right producers and he tried to get us seen in the right venues and it really helped. This is a good example of the industry.

Another good guy I met is Sir Richard Branson. I ended up serving my full term at Virgin Records having been removed from every other label. And he created a superior culture there. People were happier and nicer than the weasels at some other places. The first time he tried to sign me it didn't work out, because I had my sights set on A&M, a company I thought would help make me respectable. After all they had Sting! Richard was secretly starting his own company at the time in the US and he phoned me in my tiny flat with no furniture. He said he'd give me a longer term deal with more dough than the other guys and he was very, very polite and soft spoken. But I had just smoked a joint that day and I couldn't make a decision. So I went with the other guys who soon got sick of me. Virgin picked me up again later on the rebound. And on the cheap. Damn. My own fault.

Another kind of indie legend who is slightly more contemporary is Long Gone John of the label Sympathy for the Record Industry. Good name. John is famous with some artists for his disinterest in paying royalties. He has a very interesting music themed folk art collection – its visible online - which includes my leather jacket. I wish he'd give it back. There are lots of indie people with a gift for organization who just kind of collect freaks and throw them up at the wall to see who sticks. You gotta watch 'em.

When you go a step down creatively from the Padrons who are actually entrepreneurs you get to the executives. You don't wanna know these guys. They usually came over from legal or accounting. They have protégés usually called A&R men to do their dirty work. You can become a favorite with them if your fame or image might reflect limelight on their career. They tend to have no personalities to speak of, which is their strength. Strangely they're never really thinking about the good of their parent company as much as old number one. Avoid them. If you’re an artist, they’ll make you sick or suicidal. The only good thing the conglomerate can do for you – and they’ve done it recently for me - is make you really, really ubiquitous. They do that well. But, when the company is your banker, then you are basically gonna be the Beverly Hill Billies. So it's best not to take their money. Especially when you’re young. These are very tough people, and they can hurt you.

So who are the good guys?! They asked me when they read this thing at BBC 6 Music. Well there are lots of them. If fact, today there are more than ever and they are just about all indies, but first I want to mention Peter Gabriel and WOMAD for everything they've done for what seems like forever to help the greatest musicians in the world, the so called world musicians to gain a foothold and make a living in the modern screwed up cash and carry world. Traditional music was never a for profit enterprise, all the best forms were developed as a kind of you’re job in the community. It was pretty good, it was “Yeah, I’m a musician, I’m gonna skip like doing the dishes or taking the trash out.” It's not surprising that all the greatest singers and players come from parts of the world where everybody is broke and the old ways are getting paved over. So it's crucial for everyone that these treasures not be lost. There are other people of means and intelligence who help others in this way like Philip Glass through Tibet House, David Burn with Luaka Bop, Damon Albarn through Honest John Records. Shout out to Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. Almost all the best music is coming out on indies today like XL Matador, Burger, Anti, Epitaph, Mute, Rough Trade, 4 A D, Sub Pop, etc. etc.

But now YouTube is trying to put the squeeze on these people because it's just easier for a power nerd to negotiate with a couple big labels who own the kind of music that people listen to when they're really not that into music, which of course is most people. So they've got the numbers. But the indies kind of have the guns. I've noticed that indies are showing strength at some of the established streaming services like Spotify and Rhapsody – people are choosing that music. And it's also great that some people are starting their own outlets, like Pledge Music, Band Camp or Drip. As the commercial trade swings more into general show biz the indies will be the only place to go for new talent, outside the Mickey Mouse Club, so I think they were right to band together and sign the Fair Digital Deals Declaration.

There are just so many ways to screw an artist that it's unbelievable. In the old vinyl days they would deduct 10% "breakage fees" for records supposedly broken in shipping, whether that happened or not, and now they have unattributed digital revenue, whatever the **** that means. It means money for some guy’s triple bypass. I actually think that what Thom Yorke has done with Bit Torrent is very good. I was gonna say here: “Sure the guy is a pirate at Bit Torrent” but I was warned legally, so I’ll say: “Sure the guy a Bit Torrent is a pirate’s friend” But all pirates want to go legit, just like I wanted to be respectable. It’s normal. After a while people feel like you’re a crook, it’s too hard to do business. So it’s good in this case that Thom Yorke is encouraging a positive change. The music is good. It’s being offered at a low price direct to people who care.

I want to try to define what I am talking about when I say free. For me in the arts or in the media, there are two kinds of free. One kind of free is when the process is something that people just feel for you. You feel a sense of possibility. You feel a lack of constraint. This leads to powerful, energetic, sometimes kind of loony situations.

Vice Media is an interesting case of this because they started as a free handout, using public funds, and they had open, free-wheeling minds. Originally a free handout was called Voice and these kids were like “Just get rid of the old! I don’t wanna be Vice, yeah!” Okay. By taking an immersive approach with no particular preconceptions to their reporting, they've become a huge success, also through corporate advertising, at attracting big, big money investment hundreds of millions of dollars now pumped into Fox Media and a couple of others bigger than that in the US. And they get it because they attract lots of little boy eyeballs. So they brought us Dennis Rodman in North Korea. And it’s kind of a travesty, but it’s kind of spunky. It's interesting that capital investment, for all its posturing, never really leads, it always follows. They follow the action. So if it's money you're after, be the yourself in a consistent way and you might get it. You’ll at least end up getting what you are worth and feel better. Just follow your nose.

The second kind of freedom to me that is important in the media is the idea of giving freely. When you feel or sense that someone that someone is giving you something not out of profit, but out of self-respect, Christian charity, whatever it is. That has a very powerful energy. The Guardian, in my understanding, was founded by an endowment by a successful man with a social conscience who wanted to help create a voice for what I would call the little guy. So they have a kind of moral mission or imperative. This has given them the latitude to try to be interesting, thoughtful, helpful. And they bring Edward Snowden to the world stage. Something that is not pleasant for a lot of people to hear about, but we need to know.

These two approaches couldn't be more different. To justify their new mega bucks Vice will have to expand and expand in capital terms. Presumably they'll have to titillate a dumb, but energetic audience. Of course all capitalist expansions are subject to the big bang – balloon, bust, poof, and you’re gone. As for the Guardian I would imagine that the task involves gaining the trust and support of a more discerning, less definable reader, without spending the principal. There is usually an antipathy between cultural poles, but these two actually have a lot in common in terms of the energy and nuisance to power that they are willing to generate. I wish red and blue could come together somehow.

Sometimes I'd rather read than listen to music. One of my favourite odd books is Bootleg: The Secret History of the Other Recording Industry by Clinton Heylin. I bought the book in the 90's because a couple of my bootlegs were mentioned. I loved my bootlegs. They did a lot for me. I never really thought about the dough much. I liked the titles, like Suck on This, Stow Away DOA or Metalic KO. The packaging was always way more creative and edgy than most of my official stuff. So I just liked being seen and heard, like anybody else. These bootleggers were creative. Here are two quotes from the dust jacket by veteran industry stalwarts on the subject of bootlegs in 1994.

"Bootleg is the thoroughly researched and highly entertaining tale of those colorful brigands, hapless amateurs, and true believers who have done wonders for my record collection. Rock and roll doesn't get more underground than this." – that was David Fricke, the music editor of Rolling Stone "I think that bootlegs keep the flame of the music alive by keeping it out of not only the industry's conception of the artist, but also the artist's conception of the artist." – that was Lenny Kaye from the Patti Smith group, musician, critic and my friend.

Wow!! Sounds heroic and vital!

I wonder what these guys feel about all of this now, because things have changed, haven't they? We are now talking about Megaupload, Kim Dot Com, big money, political power, and varying definitions of theft that are legally way over my head. But I know a con man when I see one. I want to include a rant from an early bootlegger in this discussion because it's so passionate and I just think it's funny.

This is Lou Cohan "If anybody thinks that if I have purchased every single Rolling Stones album in existence, and I have bought all the Rolling Stones albums that have been released in England, France, Japan, Italy, and Brazil that if I have an extra $100 in my pocket instead of buying a Rolling Stones bootleg I am going to buy a John Denver album or a Sinead O'Conner album, they are retarded."

So the guy is trying to say don't try to force me. And don't steal my choice. And the people who don't want the free U2 download are trying to say, don't try to force me. And they've got a point. Part of the process when you buy something from an artist. It’s a kind of anointing, you are giving people love. It’s your choice to give or withhold. You are giving a lot of yourself, besides the money. But in this particular case, without the convention, maybe some people felt like they were robbed of that chance and they have a point. It’s not the only point. These are not bad guys. But now, everybody's a bootlegger, but not as cute, and there are people out there just stealing the stuff and saying don't try to force me to pay. And that act of thieving will become a habit and that’s bad for everything. So we are exchanging the corporate rip off for the public one. Aided by power nerds. Kind of computer Putins. They just wanna get rich and powerful. And now the biggest bands are charging insane ticket prices or giving away music before it can flop, in an effort to stay huge. And there's something in this huge thing that kind of sucks.

Which brings us to Punk. The most punk thing I ever saw in my life was Malcolm McLaren's cardboard box full of dirty old winkle pinkers. It was the first thing I saw walking in the door of Let It Rock in 1972 which was his shop at Worlds End on the Kings Road. It was a huge ugly cardboard bin full of mismatched unpolished dried out winkle pickers without laces at some crazy price like maybe five pounds each. Another 200 yards up the street was Granny Takes a Trip, where they sold proper Rockstar clothes like scarves, velvet jackets, and snake skin platform boy boots. Malcolm's obviously worthless box of shit was like a fire bomb against the status quo because it was saying that these violent shoes have the right idea and they are worth more than your fashion, which serves a false value. This is right out of the French enlightenment.

So is the thieving that big a deal? Ethically, yes, and it destroys people because it's a bad road you take. But I don't think that's the biggest problem for the music biz. I think people are just a little bit bored, and more than a little bit broke. No money. Especially simple working people who have been totally left out, screwed and abandoned. If I had to depend on what I actually get from sales I’d be tending bars between sets. I mean honestly it’s become a patronage system. There’s a lot of corps involved and I don’t fault any of them but it’s not as much fun as playing at the Music Machine in Camden Town in 1977. There is a general atmosphere of resentment, pressure, kind of strange perpetual war, dripping on all the time. And I think that prosecuting some college kid because she shared a file is a lot like sending somebody to Australia 200 years ago for poaching his lordship's rabbit. That's how it must seem to poor people who just want to watch a crappy movie for free after they’ve been working themselves to death all day at Tesco or whatever, you know.

If I wanna make music, at this point in my life I'd rather do what I want, and do it for free, which I do, or cheap, if I can afford to. I can. And fund through alternative means, like a film budget, or a fashion website, both of which I've done. Those seem to be turning out better for me than the official rock n roll company albums I struggle through. Sorry. If I wanna make money, well how about selling car insurance? At least I'm honest. It's an ad and that's all it is. Every free media platform I've ever known has been a front for advertising or propaganda or both. And it always colors the content. In other words, you hear crap on the commercial radio. The licensing of music by films, corps, and TV has become a flood, because these people know they're not a hell of a lot of fun so they throw in some music that is. I'm all for that, because that's the way the door opened for me. I got heard on tv before radio would take a chance. But then I was ok. Good. And others too. I notice there are a lot of people, younger and younger, getting their exposure that way. But it's a personal choice. I think it’s an aesthetic one, not an ethical one.

Now with the Internet people can choose to hear stuff and investigate it in their own way. If they want to see me jump around the Manchester Apollo with a horse tail instead of trying to be a proper Rockstar, they can look. Good. Personally I don't worry too much about how much I get paid for any given thing, because I never expected much in the first place and the whole industry has become bloated in its expectations. Look, Howling Wolf would work for a sandwich. This whole thing started in Honky Tonk bars. It's more important to do something important or just make people feel something and then just trust in God. If you're an entertainer your God is the public. They'll take care of you somehow. I want them to hear my music any old which way. Period. There is an unseen hand that turns the pages of existence in ways no one can predict. But while you’re waiting for God to show up and try to find a good entertainment lawyer.

It's good to remember that this is a dream job, whether you're performing or working in broadcasting, or writing or the biz. So dream. Dream. Be generous, don’t be stingy. Please. I can't help but note that it always seems to be the pursuit of the money that coincides with the great art, but not its arrival. It's just kind of a death agent. It kills everything that fails to reflect its own image, so your home turns into money, your friends turn into money, and your music turns into money. No fun, binary code – zero one, zero one - no risk, no nothing. What you gotta do you gotta do, life's a hurly-burly, so I would say try hard to diversify your skills and interests. Stay away from drugs and talent judges. Get organized. Big or little, that helps a lot.

I'd like you to do better than I did. Keep your dreams out of the stinky business, or you'll go crazy, and the money won't help you. Be careful to maintain a spiritual EXIT. Don't live by this game because it's not worth dying for. Hang onto your hopes. You know what they are. They’re private. Because that's who you really are and if you can hang around long enough you should get paid. I hope it makes you happy. It's the ending that counts, and the best things in life really are free.

#iggy pop #idk if anyone posted it here already #I'm just too lazy to look up so #here it is!

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ask-will-and-nico · 3 years ago

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“I think the dinner could be a good idea. It’s a short window of time and it’s something like a compromise if Hades wins.” Jason sighs. “I don’t really want to leave either. Is that wild?” Reyna laughs. “No, I get it. There’s really something here. Maybe it’s the food.” Jason smiles. He’s definitely going to miss the food and the company. Though he wasn’t around much, he always looked forward to the meals with the Solace’s. “Guess Nico isn’t the only one wanting to stay.”

“We still have to see what happens when he sees himself,” Reyna says. Jason nods. Nico hadn’t looked in a mirror in a week. He knew about his injuries, but the exact placement might jog some memories. “Maybe we see how his eval goes tomorrow and work from there. Might as well take that step while he’s here.” It wasn’t going to be pretty, but they couldn’t hide things forever. “I just hate knowing that we just have to wait for it all to click for him. And that’s not even the end then.”

-/-/-

Jason knew things were going to be tough as soon as the doctors came in asking questions. Nico knew who and were he was, and yes, even who the president was, but he still couldn’t remember anything after Lester appeared in his room. Nico had seen Will off the previous day, and though he was nervous this morning about the eval, he seemed confident. He had a goal to work towards. His confidence quickly grew to frustration though when the doctors asked the same question over and over again. Jason quietly suggested maybe coming back around to it. They still had to get an MRI and wanted to do a full sensory work up to make sure there wasn’t any lasting side effects of the concussion hanging around.

#asks #mini fic 7

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back-and-totheleft · 3 years ago

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‘There’s still a presence out there reminding people not to speak about JFK’s killing’

Oliver Stone is not a fan of “cancel culture”. “Of course I despise it,” the Oscar winning filmmaker says, as if utterly amazed that anyone needs to ask him such a dumb question. “I am sure I’ve been cancelled by some people for all the comments I’ve made…. it’s like a witch hunt. It’s terrible. American censorship in general, because it is a declining, defensive, empire, it (America) has become very sensitive to any criticism. What is going on in the world with YouTube and social media,” he rants. “Twitter is the worst. They’ve banned the ex-President of the United States. It’s shocking!” he says, referring to Donald Trump’s removal from the micro-blogging platform.

It’s a Saturday lunchtime in the restaurant of the Marriott Hotel on the Croisette in Cannes. The American director is in town for the festival premiere this week of his new feature documentary JFK Revisited: Through the Looking Glass, in which he yet again pores over President John F Kennedy’s assassination in November 1963.

“I am a pin cushion for American-Russian peace relations… I had four f***ing vaccines: two Sputniks and two Pfizers,” Stone gestures at his arm. The rival super-powers may remain deeply suspicious of one another, but Stone is loading himself up with potions from both sides of the old Iron Curtain.

He has recently been travelling in Russia (hence the Sputnik jabs) where he has been making a new documentary about how nuclear power can save humanity. He also recently completed a film about Kazakhstan’s former president Nursultan Nazarbayev which – like his interviews with Vladimir Putin – has been roundly ridiculed for its deferential, softly-softly approach toward a figure widely regarded as a ruthless despot.

Dressed in a blue polo shirt, riffing away about the English football team one moment and his favourite movies the next, laughing constantly, the 74-year-old Oscar-winning director of Platoon, Wall Street, Natural Born Killers et al is a far cheerier presence than his reputation as a purveyor of dark conspiracy thrillers might suggest. He is also very outspoken. For all his belligerence, though, Stone isn’t as thick-skinned as you might imagine. I wonder if he was hurt by the scorn that came his way when his feature film JFK was released in 1991.

“I was more of a younger man. It was painful to me,” the director sighs as he remembers being attacked by such admired figures as newscaster Walter Cronkite and Hollywood power broker Jack Valenti for listening to the “hallucinatory bleatings” of former New Orleans DA Jim Garrison when JFK came out. “It was quite shocking actually because I thought the murder was behind us. I did think there was a feeling that 30 years later, we can look at this thing again without getting excited. But I was way wrong.”

Garrison, of course, was the real-life figure portrayed by Kevin Costner in the film; he was the original proponent of the theory that the CIA were involved in the killing of the US president, after his 1966 investigation. Garrison wrote the book On the Trail of the Assassins, on which the movie was partly based.

Even the director’s fiercest detractors will find it hard to dismiss the evidence he has assembled about the JFK assassination in the new documentary. Once I’d seen it and heard him hold forth, I came away thinking that only flat-earthers can possibly still believe that Lee Harvey Oswald shot President Kennedy all on his own. It’s that convincing.

Stone blitzes you with facts and figures about the Kennedy killing and its aftermath. At times, he himself seems to be suffering from information overload. “I am sorry. There are so many people,” he apologises for not immediately remembering the name of Kennedy’s personal physician, George Burkley, who was present both at Parkland Hospital, where Kennedy was first taken, and then at Bethesda, where the autopsy took place. Burkley was strangely reticent when giving evidence to the Warren Commission.

“I think there’s still a presence out there which reminds people not to speak. I’ve heard that in, of all places, Russia,” Stone says. He was startled to discover that the Russians knew all about his new documentary long before it was discussed in the mainstream press. “They said, ‘We heard about it.’ I said, ‘How?’ They said, ‘We have our contacts in the American intelligence business. They are not very happy about it.’”

Stone believes that no US president since Kennedy died has been “able to go up against this militarised sector of our economy”. Even Trump “backed down at the last second” and declined to release all the relevant documents relating to the assassination. “He announced, ‘I’m going to free it up, blah blah blah, big talk, and then a few hours before, he caved to CIA National Security again.”

The veteran filmmaker expresses his frustrations at historians like Robert Caro, author of a huge (and hugely respected) multi-volume biography of President Lyndon Johnson, for ignoring the evidence that has been turned up about the assassination.

“I can’t say [LBJ] was involved in the assassination,” explains Stone, “but it certainly suited him that Kennedy was not there anymore and he covered up by appointing the Warren Commission and doing all the things he did.”

Stone tried to cast Marlon Brando in JFK in the role as the deep throat source Mr X, eventually played by Donald Sutherland.

“I realise now I am grateful that he turned it down because he knew better than I that he would make 20 minutes out of that 14-minute monologue and it wouldn’t have worked.”

Nevertheless, he filled the film with famous faces. He thought that having familiar actors would make it easier for audiences to engage with what was an immensely complicated story.

Getting Stone to stop talking about JFK is like trying to pull a bone from a mastiff’s jaws. To change the subject slightly, I ask if he is still in touch with WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange. He is and is utterly horrified at how Assange is being treated, especially given that Siggi the Hacker, a key witness in the extradition case against Assange, admitted recently that he lied. Stone praises Assange’s partner Stella Morris as “the best wife you could ever have. She really is smart, she’s a lawyer … he has two children. He can’t even touch them or see them. It’s barbaric. It indicates America is declining faster than we know. It is just cutting off dissent.”

The mood lightens when I invite Stone to discuss some of his favourite films. He recently tweeted a list of these, which included Darling starring Julie Christie, Joseph Losey’s Eva starring Stanley Baker and Jeanne Moreau, and Houseboat, a frothy comedy starring Cary Grant and Sophia Loren. “I love films, always have. People don’t know that side of me. I could go on forever.”

Between his darker and more contentious efforts, Stone has made a few genre films himself, for example the underrated thriller U-Turn starring Sean Penn and Jennifer Lopez. He notes, though, that even when he tried a sports movie, he ended up right back in the firing line. The NFL was furious about his 1999 American Football film, Any Given Sunday. “They (the NFL) are arrogant, very rich people who close down any dissent, so I had to change uniforms and names… but they got the point.”

Last year, Stone published the first volume of his autobiography, Chasing the Light, which took him from childhood up to his Oscar triumph with Platoon. It was well received but it didn’t make nearly a big enough splash for his liking. “There was a curtain of silence about that. Maybe it is Covid… it was not reviewed by many people,” he says. “I wish the timing had been better. The publisher was terrible. They didn’t really promote anything. So now I have to start over again if I am going to do a second book, which I would love to do. But I have to find the right publisher.”

The book contains a barbed account of Stone’s experiences as a young screenwriter working in London for British director Alan Parker and producer David Puttnam on Midnight Express. “I wrote about it in the book, so you got my point of view. They were not very friendly people. I gave my criticism of Parker that he had a chip on his shoulder. He was from a poor side of the English. There is this phenomenon you see in England of hating the upper classes until they approve of you.”

No, they didn’t stay in touch. “And Puttnam is a Lord, right? He reminds me of Tony Blair. He is such a weasel.” For once, Stone feels he has overstepped the mark. He doesn’t want to call Puttnam a weasel after all. “Put it this way, Tony Blair is a weasel. I wouldn’t trust Tony Blair. Puttnam is a supporter of Blair. Let’s leave it at that.”

On matters English, he isn’t that keen on soccer either. He watched the semi-final between England and Denmark but had no intention of tuning into the final.

“Soccer is a different kind of game. It’s a different aesthetic. It is constant movement. The United States game allows you to re-group after every play and go into a huddle and so it becomes about strategy. I still enjoy it although people think I am brutal.”

Ask him why he so relishes American Football and he replies that he “grew up with violence in America … we were banging – cowboys and Indians, a lot of killing and that stuff. How do you get away from that? We weren’t playing with dolls.”

Stone’s feelings about the US are deeply ambivalent. He is old enough to remember a time in the late 1940s and early 1950s when “everything in America was golden” and part of him still seems to love the country but his mother was French and he talks about the US as a nation now in near terminal decline.

Perhaps surprisingly, his real political hero isn’t JFK. It’s the former President of France, Charles de Gaulle. “He said no to NATO and he said no to America. He understood the dangers of being a satellite country to America. You have no power in Europe. Don’t kid yourself. The EU is just an artificial body that was amazingly stupid in cutting off Russia and cutting off China too now.”

He doesn’t much like Boris Johnson either. “Boris, listen. He’d simply throw you in jail in a second.” He rails against the English for holding Assange in Belmarsh prison.

When he is not on a crusade or unravelling a conspiracy, Stone relaxes through Buddhist meditation. “Moderation in all things,” the man who came up with the phrase “greed is right, greed works” says with no evident sense of irony. He enjoys hanging out with his friends. “I have a nice life. I’m lucky,” he says before quickly adding, “I wish I had been more honoured and respected in my lifetime, but it seems that I took a course that is in conflict with the American Empire.”

Stone’s films have had relatively few strong female characters. Ask if he welcomes the #MeToo movement and the challenging of old gender norms and he gives a typically contrary answer. “It cuts both ways, though. There are reasons for patriarchy through the centuries,” he says. “Tribes tend to have a strong leader. You need strong leaders, but I do see the feminine impulse as being important, especially when situations become too militant. The feminine impulse, I’m talking about the maternal impulse not the Hillary Clinton/Margaret Thatcher version of feminism. They’re men. They’re not women,” he says. “I don’t want women in politics who want to be men. If a woman is a woman, she should be a woman and bring her maternalism. It’s a leavening influence.”

The director deplores the rush to judge historical figures about past misdeeds from a contemporary point of view. “I am conservative in that way… don’t expect to rejudge the entire society based on your new values.”

He met with Harvey Weinstein in Cannes a few years ago to discuss a potential Guantanamo Bay TV series. “At that point, maybe he knew he was on the ropes; he was delightfully charming and humble.” The project was scuppered by the scandal that that engulfed the former Miramax boss, who is now behind bars as a convicted sex offender. Stone’s gripes with Weinstein are less to do with his sexual offences than with the way that he attacked films like Born on the Fourth of July and Saving Private Ryan to boost his own movies.

“The press loved him [Weinstein]. Don’t forget, they loved him in the 1990s,” he says, remembering the disingenuous way in which Weinstein portrayed himself as the underdog taking on the big, bad Hollywood system.

“I think he robbed Cruise of the Oscar, frankly,” Stone huffs at the intensive Weinstein lobbying which saw Daniel Day-Lewis win the Academy Award for Best for My Left Foot, denying Tom Cruise for Born on the Fourth of July in the process.

Stone acknowledges his status in Hollywood has diminished. “All that’s gone. The people have changed,” he says of the days when the studios doted on him and his films were regularly awards contenders. Now, he’ll often finance his work out of Europe. He is developing a new feature film (he won’t say what it is). “Never say die, never say it’s over,” he says of his career.

Stone is based in Los Angeles and also has “a place in New York”. During the pandemic, he still managed to travel to Russia to make his nuclear power/clean energy documentary. “I got my shots over there because the EU is so f***ing stupid,” he says of the of the Europeans’ refusal to recognise the Sputnik vaccine. “It’s ridiculous, part of the political madness of this time.”

Now, he is putting all his energy into his new documentary about nuclear power. He waves away the idea that the Chernobyl and Fukushima disasters show what can go wrong – they were accidents.

“Accidents you learn from. If there were not a few crashes, how would you fly?” he says. It’s a line that somehow seems to express his entire philosophy of life.

-Geoffrey Macnab interviews Oliver Stone, The Independent, Jul 15 2021 [x]

#oliver stone #jfk #jfk: through the looking glass #the independent #julian assange #boris johnson #david puttnam #harvey weinstein #born on the fourth of july #covid19 #vaccine #chasing the light #cannes film festival

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fanfoolishness · 5 years ago

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Greg Universe’s biggest mistake

First thing’s first: Greg Universe is an incredible father. What I would have given to have a dad like him... he’s amazing. And I think he deserves an enormous amount of credit for doing his absolute best to love and care for Steven through everything, especially through his own grief.

But there’s one decision he made that I think is going to come back to bite him and Steven both in Steven Universe: Future. And that’s Greg’s insistence that Gem stuff isn’t his thing.

Long post ahead about how this has affected Steven, Greg, and their relationship, along with some musings for what it might mean for Steven Universe: Future.

***

In early seasons it seemed to have been a very hard and fast rule. Initially he states in Laser Light Cannon it was insistence by the Gems: “Wait, is that a magical thing? The Gems told me not to get involved with magic stuff. It... it could be dangerous or interfere with what’s left of my hair.” The Gems reinforce this rule by acting less than enthused when he shows up with Steven.

In Catfingers Greg excuses himself because the shape shifting is a Gem thing. “Whup! Magic stuff! Should I get out of here? Is there going to be an explosion?” he asks anxiously. While he helps Steven escape his predicament in the end, it’s clear Greg is pretty overwhelmed by the situation.

It’s probably for good reason Greg doesn’t go on many missions. Of course, as a good dad, Greg is willing when the situation is desperate. But he’s more comfortable helping Steven with things like transportation as opposed to leaning in to the magic inherent in the situation. While Steven’s glad to have his dad along in Ocean Gem, Steven also sees him get his leg broken, a good lesson in Dad and Gem stuff don’t mix.

There’s several possible reasons for why both Greg and the Gems enforced this rule. One is simply that Greg is human and more likely to be hurt on missions. But we get another possible reason why in Message Received. Greg’s hurt to see how the Gems see him as useless. “I think so highly of you... it just isn’t fair.” Which makes sense. Greg’s always known the Gems and their war were so much bigger than him. He’s looked up to them, even Pearl who often barely tolerates him. If this has always been their dynamic, no wonder he would feel inadequate when it comes to Gem stuff and he would want Steven to get the best information from them, instead of whatever he could cobble together. He’d also know he’s unable to protect Steven the way the Gems can.

In The Return, Greg tries to explain some Gem things to Steven, one of the few times he does so, and it’s only because the Gems themselves have pushed Steven away to protect him. It doesn’t go super well. Greg’s intensely uncomfortable, and Steven is horrified to hear some of the truth behind the Gems’ presence on the planet.

Then in Full Disclosure Steven really starts to understand how uncomfortable his dad is with this stuff, especially once Steven realizes how much bigger it is than just the Crystal Gems he knows and loves. “Now Dad’s really freaking out, what do I do...”

Greg, for his part, still does his best to stay involved in Steven’s life. He takes Steven to the Barn to help with working on the drill to use on the Cluster, he provides a loving and stable presence in Steven’s human life, and he routinely checks in with him when he sees things like Stevonnie or Steven hating Kevin. He talks to Steven about how much Rose loved him and wanted him.

Unfortunately, he messes up again during Steven’s Birthday. He doesn’t encourage Connie to talk to Steven about her worries. He doesn’t bring Steven into the conversation. When he does talk to Steven, it isn’t really helpful, and he doesn’t apologize to Steven for the “wait and see” comment.

Greg: Why are you doing this? It... really isn't like you. Steven: Because, Dad, I can't stay a kid forever, when Connie grows up and becomes president what is that gonna make me? First Boy!? Amethyst: Steven, you can't just keep stretching forever. If you hold it too long, you could really hurt yourself. Steven: Yeah well, I'm half human so maybe it works different for me, we'll just have to wait and see, right? Greg: *sigh* Steven...

This is par for the course. Greg understands when Steven’s stressed out from human problems. But Greg doesn’t see when comfort is needed because of Gem things (i.e. never growing up). Steven never discusses what happened to the Cluster or Jasper or Bismuth or even being lost in space in Bubbled with his dad. Not that we see. Did it happen off-screen? Maybe....

Except we know how good Steven is at repressing things. Even Connie, the human he’s brought most into his life as a Gem, didn’t know who Bismuth and Eyeball were when encountering them in the hallucination as Stevonnie. My guess is, no, Steven either never told Greg about these things, or downplayed them into funny anecdotes or quick asides.

After The Return, we only see Greg discussing serious Gem things when Steven brings it up, and it’s usually in relation to Rose, not about other things Steven has been through. In Steven’s Dream Greg tells him who Rose was when he knew her, but he doesn’t talk about what Steven’s really asking about. He wants to know what Rose was thinking when she shattered Pink, what the reason was, if it could possibly be justified. Greg tells him Rose was an amazing, loving being, but how is Steven supposed to reconcile that with her image as a shatterer and a liar?

Steven gets another important lesson in Dad-and-Gem-stuff-don’t-mix when Greg gets abducted. Steven absolutely believes this is 100% his fault, and is so panicked he left Connie behind despite her wanting to help, and almost crashed a spaceship. Does he need any more proof in why he can’t involve his dad in this part of his life?

Even after they get back to safety, there’s no evidence that Steven and Greg talk much about what happened. Steven uses Rose’s room to try and process a lot of what he’s been going through, but to frightening effect. He’s starting to feel like he can’t talk to anyone about these things. If he talks to Greg, he puts Greg in danger. When he tries to talk to “Rose,” he puts himself in danger from his own feelings. So he represses. Again.

Lion 4: Alternate Ending shows Greg for one of the first times that Steven is really struggling with this stuff. He’s supportive, but deeply surprised. He had no idea Steven was thinking along these lines... because this is the area they don’t talk about. Steven cries out in frustration that he doesn’t know what he’s for, what his magical destiny is supposed to be — what an enormous responsibility he’s trying to take on. Greg does try to reassure him.

At his core Steven still believes he was made to deal with Rose’s problems, even if he’d like to believe otherwise -- if he didn’t, how could he just give himself up to Homeworld like that?

Gemcation shows that unfortunately after so long of this, Steven’s starting to have problems opening up about even his human problems. He worries what Greg and the Gems will think if Steven admits he messed up with Connie. And Greg, convinced Steven is upset by what happened on Homeworld (you aren’t wrong, Greg, it’s just Steven hasn’t realized it yet!), keeps trying to make the Gems talk to Steven. Because obviously, Steven hasn’t talked to Greg.

“But I know it's not space lag. This is some Gem thing he knows I won't understand. I don't know anything about Homeworld. I don't know anything about your society. Whatever horrible things he saw out there, you guys have to put it into context.”

After all the emotions brought up in A Single Pale Rose, Steven and Greg get one line of discussion together about Rose. Steven asks how Greg’s doing and Greg tells him it’s fine. Greg most likely doesn’t want to worry Steven at all -- a valid impulse! -- but come on Greg, there’s no way it’s fine. By modeling that it’s okay, it doesn’t need to be discussed, Greg loses a chance to connect with Steven on something important and painful for them both. He doesn’t even ask Steven how he feels about it!

In the movie we see that Steven does reach out to Greg to help when the Gems get reset. This is typical of the pattern we’ve seen before. When there’s a physical problem with Gem stuff that needs help, Steven will feel okay asking Greg for help, and Greg will feel brave enough to try. Laser Light Cannon, Catfingers, Ocean Gem, Message Received, Steven’s Dream. If Steven needs him physically, he’ll ask and Greg’ll be there because he does really want to help!

But Steven never shares his dream of happily ever after with his dad. After all, that would suggest there was an unhappy past that needed to be overcome... and that’s not what they discuss, it’s not what they ever discuss. So Steven shares this dream with the Gems, he mutters it to himself at one of his lowest points, he longs for it after the Gems are reset, he even tells Spinel. He doesn’t tell Greg.

It may be important to have Steven and Greg face the ramifications of this head on. I fully believe SU:F is going to be about Steven learning to truly combine his Gem and human heritage and heart, because he is starting to lose the connection to his humanity in favor of all his work as a Gem and a Diamond. Hell, he almost died because he forgot about his human self in all the struggle to regain his Gem powers!

Humans struggle. They grow. They make mistakes. And as teenagers, they rebel, sometimes especially against the ones who have loved them the most.

But what would make Steven rebel against Greg?

Consider Greg seeing Steven suffering, struggling with new powers he’s afraid of, and Greg pleading with Steven to talk with him.

Consider Steven, furious that after all the things he’s been through, Greg is finally asking him how he feels about Gem problems. “You don’t understand what’s going on. You never do!”

And the most painful thing of all would be that Steven isn’t wrong.

TLDR: Greg meant well by trying to separate Gem and human parenting responsibilities, but in the end, he fucked up. As all parents do in some ways, even the most loving, kind and supportive. I think it’d be an important message from the show to see that parental relationship shaken to its core — and then made stronger than ever with real discussion between them of what Greg’s choices meant for Steven, with both of them working towards a more honest and adult relationship together.

It would show kids that their parents are human and they make mistakes. Sometimes as a kid you need to be honest and tell them when they've messed up — but you also can trust that a good parent will love you through all of that, and that they are doing the best they can.

If we don’t see something like this in SU:F, I’ll be disappointed, as every other main player in Steven’s life has grown and changed tremendously. Whereas Greg is always stalwart, supportive and loving, but not changing. Maybe this would be the catalyst for their father-son relationship to change and mature. I know I’d love to see it.

#greg universe #gregory demayo #steven universe #steven universe meta #steven universe future #long post #fanfoolishness su meta

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samuelsongs · 4 years ago

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⌠ JEON JUNGKOOK, 22, CISMALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, SAMUEL SONG! according to their records, they’re a THIRD year, specializing in WEAPONS TRAINING/PROTECTION & ENFORCEMENT; and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a hand running through messy hair, an eager wave and toothy grin, various small and friendly tattoos). when it’s the (libra)’s birthday on 10/19/1998, they always request their GUACAMOLE BURGER AND PARMESAN FRIES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

𝙼𝚈 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴

ACCESS: GRANTED FILE NAME: SONG, S.; UNKNOWN LEGACY

Samuel Song grew up for the first half of his life in sunny California-- Silver Lake, LA, to be exact. He would soon discover that he liked to go by Sam, though he’d respect and treasure his Korean name, Hansol, when the time came. He was a bright kid, full of life and joy and eager to do just about anything. He was always the first one to raise his hand in school or volunteer himself to make new friends. His parents loved the fact that their son was so lively and sweet, and that was in part due to their nurturing and loving nature as parents too.

They both worked in tech, very skilled and adept in their field with great jobs that allowed them to take great care of their home and child. As great as they were at their jobs, they never let it get in the way of being good parents, of making sure that their home life was as open and compassionate and understanding as they believed it should be.

He was three years old when his family welcomed a baby girl, and Sam has probably never had a greater happiness than being a big brother to Ingrid. He took care of her from the get-go, looking after her as a toddler, and always watching over her as they aged. While their parents had the money to hire babysitters, which they did, Sam still liked to always be taking care of Ingrid throughout his life, making sure she had everything she needed to be happy, or at least tried his best to.

Sam was the kind of kid that excelled in most things. He tried out for practically every sport there was, his parents supporting him throughout all the different seasons, and joined as many clubs that caught his eye as he could, something his sharp intellect helped with. His school career would see him as a star of the basketball team, student council treasurer, and president of the debate club all in the same semester, every year looking just as crazy as the last. He couldn’t help it, he just loved to be around others, a part of a team, making his mark. All this work would even help him graduate high school a year early.

At ten years old, his parents got an offer from another tech company, an offer they couldn't refuse, and the family relocated to Great Falls, Virginia across the country. The Song family moved in next door to the owners of the tech conglomerate that hired them, Reign Technology, and Ingrid and Sam met their new childhood friend, Régine Ren-- Rei for short. Despite the kids’ different personalities, they all grew up to care for each other, becoming close friends for pretty much the rest of their lives.

Sam adapted very easily to his new life in Virginia, jumping into his new school with just as much vigor as he always had, making himself out to be the ‘fun new kid’ until he was just as much a part of that community as anyone else.

The only thing was, as much as he enjoyed every activity, as good as he was at them, there was never anything that he truly loved, that he thought could carry him for the rest of his life. What he loved was being a part of something, but nothing in particular ever really called to him. He’d watch in the coming years as Ingrid would find her passion, and he’d be her number one fan, but he’d always look at her and wonder how it must feel to find your dream.

He went off to college, picking something that sounded exciting on paper, but still didn’t light a fire in him like he wanted it to. But he wanted to be able to think that he chose the right thing, and so he continued to follow it through, because, naturally, he was good at it anyway. Sam was home for the summer after his sophomore year of college when Ingrid confided in him that she’d found something huge.

After the younger Song sibling went on a visit to their parents’ workplace, Ingrid had found something scary, something that convinced her their parents were some sort of villains working for evil masterminds-- or at least tech that seemed to imply that to a creative and impressionable mind. Sam believed her immediately, his own young imagination running wild and the siblings spent the next few weeks trying to prove that their parents weren’t who they said they were.

When they thought they finally had enough evidence, they confronted them, but were met with something entirely different-- and thankfully a little more tame. Their parents confessed that they were actually retired spies, and their jobs at Reign Tech were due to that. Suddenly everything made more sense, even though it hardly made sense that their normal, PTA-member parents could have had any past as cool and exciting as espionage. There was one more catch, however.

Not only were their parents ex-spies, they were actually connected to one of the biggest names in the history of espionage-- and assassination, actually. Sam and Ingrid’s father was a Blackthorne descendant, though for the safety of his young children, had asked his family to hide that side of them from the Song kids. Sam knew the name Blackthorne, but only as the last name of the cousin he loved so much, the fun uncles, and the serious grandpa from his dad’s side. And now he was realizing that all along they were actually one of the most prominent families in the spy community.

What’s more was, well, the Blackthornes had their own school. While it took some genuine debating and convincing of his parents, it was mostly a no-brainer to Sam. This is what he was meant to do, this was why he had never found a true purpose in life. He was destined to be a spy. His father warned him that Blackthorne would be unlike any other school he’d ever been to or heard of, that it would be the hardest thing he’d have to endure, and that his ancestry might hurt him more than it would help. But Sam was determined, hopeful that he had the guts to handle it.

So, in 2018, he enrolled as a first year at Blackthorne, and just as he had expected, it was nothing like he was expecting. Luckily, he did have third year and cousin Emmett Blackthorne at his side, who took the brunt of the family name and all its hurdles as well as provided him with a kind face to stick by when he didn’t know what he was doing. Sam was content to stay in Emmett’s shadow, the heir apparent, who he looked up to just as much. He spent his year at Blackthorne wrestling with how absolutely unbearable training was, the looks of showing up as some unknown Blackthorne, and a shocking revelation: he was not good at this.

Sam had always excelled at everything he’d tried his hand at, annoyingly so, and it only frustrated him further that the one time he was sure he’d found what he wanted to do with his life, he couldn’t master it on the first try, and had to work twice as hard as everyone else to stay afloat. So much for the Blackthorne blood, he thought, and it came to a head when he heard whispers of what his namesake’s school asked of boys in order to graduate. By the end of the year, he was sure he couldn’t survive and he was not going back.

And that was when news hit that the school’s doors would be closing forever and its sister school Gallagher Academy, would be opening its doors to all genders. The next step was clear to Sam, who didn’t want to give up espionage. Because as grueling as Blackthorne was, and as hard as it was to wrap his head around the fact that he wasn’t naturally gifted at it, he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything else. So, he transferred to Gallagher in 2019, and fell in love with the school immediately.

Ever since, he’s been steadily climbing up his own personal mountain, training hard and trying his best to master what he should have a direct familial line to. Aside from how seriously he takes his schoolwork, he’s still bright and goofy as ever, and Sam knows if he ever loses that side of him, that’s when he won't be able to pursue this any longer. But for now, he’s vibing and thriving!

TLDR - THE FACTS

Sam is a goofy and bright personality, always friendly and always looking to have fun

grew up in Cali with Ingrid to two loving parents in the tech industry

they moved to Virginia when their parents got hired by Reign Tech

he’s a naturally gifted kid who was almost instantly good at everything he tried, though he could never find a passion that motivated him and had no idea what to do with his future

Ingrid says she think their parents are evil masterminds and he instantly believes her, until their parents confess they’re actually just retired spies!

also, surprise, they’re Blackthorne descendants, and their father convinced the Blackthorne side to keep the spy business a secret from his kids

Sam decides this is what he’s meant to do with his life and enrolls in Blackthorne, only to find out this is the one thing he’s not naturally good at

hates his first year at Blackthorne, because the place is a nightmare, being a Blackthorne is not all it’s cracked up to be, and he finds out about the m*rder secret lol

but despite it all, despite espionage being the one thing he can’t immediately excel at, it’s the first thing in his life that he truly feels driven towards and wants to pursue

so when Blackthorne (thankfully) closes, he’s super happy to transfer to Gallagher, and has been loving it there ever since!

he takes his schoolwork and training super seriously, because he’s trying to get better and better every day, but aside from that, he’s laid-back, kind, and vibrant!

CONNECTIONS

Ingrid Song: his baby sister, he’ll do literally anything to see her happy; he’s super supportive of her dreams and passions, and is just a touch worried about her being at Gallagher after the previous year; they have a great and healthy relationship!

Regine Ren: childhood best friend ever since he moved in next door to her; developed a crush on her in their teenage years and they started dating for a good while before they realized they couldn’t work in the long run; still on good terms and he considers her a close friend

i’m down for almost anything pls <3

@gallagherintro

#this bio isn't even that good why did it take me so long sjdnvkjndf #gallagher:intro #abt #anyway goofy loving boy :)

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janexeu · 4 years ago

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though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, JANE MÁRQUEZ is actually a descendent of HYPNOS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-SIX year old DEMIGOD ELEMENTARY EDUCATION MAJOR from NEW ORLEANS, USA has taken after HER godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite SACRIFICIAL & STUBBORN.

( she’s b-b-b-back on her bs : katya ! tis uhm ,,,, a lil bit of a chonk of an intro but ill try 2 b cute w it. any time u wanna yeet jus peep the gif again & forgive me bc Look At Her ! )

POWERS ( more info here )

hypnokinesis — p much made her a glorified babysitter w lynch-esque wacko dreams. it got stronger naturally as she got older, but jus w herself n eventually the ppl shes real close w. its also gotten a lot better since comin to eonia

seeing gods in dreams — she doesnt hang out w em every fridays at tgifs but like ,,, if she had Pertinent Questions she cud smhw make it happen. found out abt her being a demigod at age 10 when she met hypnos

memory retrieval — shes got great memry of her own but bc she knows it can help w grief n all that, shes been learnin in eonia how to do it 4 others if they mayb wanted it

BIO POINTS

her single ma died during childbirth so jane's been in the foster care system since 5ever. attempts at reunification nvr worked out but thankfully she got real lucky w her group home and foster families. twas stable enough to not emotionally scar her even further but the instability of it all was fosho a big ol’ lot and has influenced her rigidness in sum aspects of her life

she lived p much as a mortal even tho her powers r a lil freaky. never went to camp but it worked out bc all her abilities r internal and cannot be Perceived by others. she had a talk w hypnos abt what 2 do n he mentioned camps but also gave sum monster avoidance tips ( like rarely use ur powers, maybe learn self defense, yada yada ) n she jus ,,, did that so she cud continue livin real normal w the mortals. logistics of camp stressed her out esp bc shes livin w non-family n stuff yk it was All Too Much, miss her w the added demigod stress tyvm

got married at 23 to her childhood sweetums luis, but he ,,, died abt a yr later fr a car accident. coma for 2 weeks n jane p much slept the entire time in his hospital room, visitin his dreams n talkin to him. twas a life support sitch so they eventually decided to pull da plug whch was real sad but like she's processed it 2 da best of her abilities. her powers helped a lot in the coping too n she visits memories of him in her dreams smtms when it gets real sad then shes ok again bc life goes on n life is pretty uwu

bc of her bg round kids of all kinds, shes always been passionate abt em. always takin babysittin/tutor gigs and went to community college so she cud teach n then worked as an elem teacher. only started considerin goin 2 eonia 4 postgrad when she had a student who showed signs n strugglez of bein a demigod. she eventually got to talk to their godly parent 2 confirm n she was shocked pikachu meme, real concerned for all those youngins who hav no clue what to do ! or how to cope ! bc they cant facetime w the olympians lyk she can ! so cue her discussin eonia w luis a lot then a year after the accident, broke out the pro-con list again. took abt *checks watch* another yr til she finally decided to zoom 2 athens but then whoosh she did !

PERSONALITY

yearning ? idk her — shes can be a bit of a take it as is typa chick. can be a lil literal jsksj not dumb but like ,,, def doesnt read into things enuff to pine n long n year yk. some things might def fly over her head. she says Yes To Serotonin in this house. she dk the the mitskis n the sikens n the carsons ; its all mary oliver up in this joint. we just tryna luv life n be grateful folkz

le freak, say chic ! — control freak, that is. growin up in an unstable envi meant shed cling 2 stability n independence, wrvr she cud get it. so when it comes 2 the way she does things, she can be real a heel digger. also bc she has 2 deal w kids yk so it can b A Lot n shes v stern lyk dat. ofc she wont infantilize the eonians .,,,. or will she ? big sis vibes outta control. she means well tho always always means well. itll also b v hard to get her 2 giv up on sum1 bc life ? she luvs it n knows u can too

changes by david bowie — is decidedly skipped on the playlist. she doesnt like change !!! i mean she knows its inevitable but still not entire unavoidable. ever since she got out of the system, shes had a partner n her own way of doing things n its been workin out so why change it yk ? she says time may change me but jokes on u i can sorta trace time

rip but im different — this goes out to all em whores in this house. she respectz ur hustle but like ,,,, not her thang. girl doesnt even get drunk when she drinks bc she doesnt rlly drink sksjsk doesnt like the taste of it, big baby ! but like she's Lived, its more like. ok tried it, not for me. thanks tho. also for all the meanies in the house, y’all perplex her. shes empathetic n wont show the judgement but smtms shes lowkey lyk .,., ur how old n u had all this goin 4 u n ur still so rotten ? how u actin like a 7yo w a trantrum ? scratch head, make it make sense

at least u tried — dad jokes, bad puns, tries to be big jokester but isn't funny. she's pretty tho so she gets away with it. idk wht else 2 say ur honor. shes the type thatll embarrass u w affection

well that was Awkward — probably sum1 abt her if they see her actin a Fool bc shes in a foreign sitch or topic. when shes a fish outta water then she can be so ! easily ! flustered ! which is p much her in eonia. shes not new new but theres way 2 much godly shennanigans for her to wrap her head ‘round n sis has never gone to camp so its ice bucket challenge level shock from time to time still w da magics n lore

til death do us part — yknow when death cab for cutie said i knew that u wer a truth i wud rather lose than 2 hav nvr lain beside at all ? how abt when they wrecked me by rudely sayin love is watching sum1 die ? yes ? no ? nywy thats jane 4 ya. if she loves then shes in and if shes in then she is all in, luke danes stylez

was that a vivid enough picture or did i just word vom the same things agen n agen sjksjs jus know shes cute n sweet if a lil frustrating n annoying bc shes stubbornpants mcgee. may or may not have a slight compulsion to help fix other ppl ..,,.. someone set her str8 n tell her fix u by coldplay isnt it !!!

OTHER INFO

5′9″ born 4 october 1994, virgo sun n moon

not a freshie ! idk how long her program is but like ,,, lets ignore that 4 now ok jus kno that she been here a while

yogi & boxing enthusiast back at home. hc her mans got real into the martial arts w her when hypnos told her she gotta learn how 2 defend so that was one of their things : bonding by workouts so jane cud protecc herself if need be

her maiden name’s jane fulton. got her mommas surname but the name jane ? thats some jane doe bs some rando picked out for her which she hated at first but then seeing tarzan made her go hmmm, ok bet !

lgbtq+ alliance president ! identifies as pan

she met her late hubbie when they were abt 7ish, real friends 2 lovers cuteness. jane was there for him throughout his entire coming out & transition ergo her passion for the community esp queer kids bc she was That Cis Ally for her mans. wears her ring as a real lowkey necklace now

shes also real passionate abt sleep. will ask u how did u sleep last night p much every day u see her bc ppl spend like half their lives asleep catherine ofc shes gonna ask

her fave thing abt eonia ? the whole siblings bit. shes had 2 make do w what she got n build a family from scratch so this ? she luvs it a lot let her give u kithes hypnos babies

shes p well versed in the greek thingies but only thru the knowledge mortals gets + dream info. after her realizin who she is, all things ancient greek jus sorta became her niche interest ykwim ? shes not like Super Learned abt it more like ,,, ok i gotta at least make Sum sense outta all this, gotta learn what i can. imagin how embarrassin it wud b 2 see a god in ur dream n then go : sorry to this man. nope. not jane, not her, nuh-uh

luv languages : words, acts of service, physical touch !

useless hcs but she loves disney sfm ok. smtms dresses up as princess tiana for bday parties n shit bc shell do nythin 2 put a smile on the kids n babs faces

ya like jazz ? bc jane surely does ! adores motown & 60s music. nina simone owns her. no one drag peggy lee from 101 dalmatians ! not an important hc but i jus wanted to quote my bubble butt winged bee lover barry

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

children ! infants ! babies !

demigods that make her scratch head damn u live like this ? but also wud knife emoji to protect n care for. shes not the oldest on campus but shes been livin independently p much her entire life so she finks shes got a tight grasp on the myth that is Adulting

srsly tho the Big Sis vibes is off the charts w this one. shell perserve u dumdums

baddie influencies !

convince her 2 get drunk at a party ! bc she never does. convince her to maybe try drugs ! or go hook up ! do smths impulsive idk jus smth new !

gl tho bc shes not rlly ,,, easily influenced But she can b reasoned w ! in general i fink its just gonna be a fun dynamic if y/m knows how to coax sum wildness outta her or w/e bc thotty yummy theyre hotty yolo rzning jus wont do w this gal. will most likely get argumentative like a big ol momma hen but if u win then ur winning big

Sleep Now or forever hold ur peace !

idk sum1 she helps w their messy sleep ? shes def not super public w it, surely knows her other siblings r Better at it but if y’all are close, she probs enjoys doin it 4 ya. she runs her hair thru fingers a lot when she does it. like a lot a lot unless u tell her to get lost

lover boi, lover gorl, lover enby !

she can be a lil traditional when it comes to how she views rels. she wants all that meetcute courting bs ! no gender roles tho n u best be sure shes not constantly comparin w her late hubbie ,,, but she jus wants smth magical n 2 be wooed again yk ?

so yea ,,, crushers mayhaps ? sum1 who is tryin 2 woo her ? sum1 she had a meetcute w and now janes got lowkey heart eyes for em ? idk lotsa possiblities but pls keep in mind she is not good at the flirtings so hav mercy on her

eonia tour guide !

or jus friends who like ,,, constnatly fill her in w all the godly stuff n whatnot. years of not goin 2 camps mean u miss out on a lot ! explore ruins w her n get her info her mortal educ didnt make her privy 2 yk

head real empty atm i will think of sum n let y’all know when i do, but give us all the conekshunz. friends, enemies, the usual bit, lgbtq alliance peeps, lmk whats up whats done whats cookin we want it all

( shes p much a new muse n da result of me tryna bring in an emotionally healthy kid to this sad sad university. janes in a v good well-adjusted place rn n is my therapy muse bc that other bitch m** is a messy handful. but wbk life aint linear so mayhaps shit’ll hit da fan or one of y/m will ruin her lmfao press f pls ! but also color me eyes emoji bc we love to see it )

#euintro

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