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ckret2 · 4 years ago

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Alright let’s talk GVK spoilers!!!

My reactions as best I can remember them!

- love how Kong is humanized from the very first scene, like every time he shows up he’s humanized so much more than other titans are. If that was at the expense of other titans being made likable I wouldn’t enjoy it so much, but like, Godzilla is made pretty lovable over the course of Monsterverse, Mothra is too, and all the titans featured for long are given recognizable emotions that let us see them as more intelligent and feeling than “just” animals; so all of them are made understandable/likable/sympathetic. But of them all, Kong is the only one really humanized. Which makes sense, because like, big monkey! Basically our distant cousin!

- And they kept playing, like, normal songs for him, which cracked me up.

- I really appreciated how you could SEE the titans in this movie. After all the weather effects to hide the titans in KOTM, there was such a clear difference in this one from the very start. Kong in the daylight! Godzilla makes his first attack at night, and even then you can see him much more clearly than you can for most of KOTM! Nice!

- after the Iwi were portrayed as silent stoic witnesses in Skull Island, I really appreciated that they took an Iwi character, made her a main character, and gave her dialogue and a real role to play in the story while also keeping her deaf/mute. I think that was a good way to improve on the way that the Iwi got got sidelined in the last movie while still maintaining the worldbuilding!

- I didn’t appreciate so much that, y’know, they murdered the rest of her people off-screen in order to do it. Couldn’t they have gone “her parents died so she got adopted by a Monarch agent that was close to her family, but like, the rest of her tribe is fine”? Or at the very least “their island got fucked up so they had to be evacuated but like they’re settling in somewhere else”? “They’re living under this island dome with Kong and they know what’s up and Monarch’s keeping them in the loop and they decided they’re chill with their new dome home, but this one girl likes to go on adventures with Monarch”? Something? Did we have to kill them all off? Y’all make up an entire fictional indigenous culture and then murder them off-screen when you don’t need them? Just let them live.

- a few minutes in I was like “hold on, we’ve got two characters that speak sign language, we’ve got a giant gorilla, gorillas learn sign language, is there any reason they can’t teach Kong?” and then later I was like “OOOOOH!!” Humans and titans learning how to communicate with each other has been one of my favorite themes to explore in Monsterverse fanfic so I was absolutely tickled to see it getting explored in canon, too.

- That said I think it’s hilarious that the girl managed to teach Kong to sign without, like... anybody seeing. Kong’s hands are above the tree line and there are cameras everywhere, how did NOBODY with Monarch see him signing.

- Bernie’s weaponized being an annoying coworker to such a degree it can only be called an art, and I really appreciated it.

- Godzilla’s extra chonky in this movie and I dig it. Roomie noted he was extra crocodilian and I dig that too.

- “There’s been no confirmed titan sightings in three years” I don’t buy that for a minute. They’re BIG. Rodan NESTS IN VOLCANOES. They found a MOTHRA EGG. Humans have A SCARILY WELL-FUNDED ORGANIZATION DEDICATED SOLELY TO FOLLOWING TITANS AROUND. Like, most of the lore in GVK that I don’t personally like, I can be like “eh... I can tweak it just a little bit with headcanons to make it work for me...” but NO confirmed titan sightings? You expect me to believe ALL of them moved underground when we’d previously seen them all prefer to live above ground? You expect me to believe that now that they’re all AWAKE, they learned how to HIDE?? Uh-uh. And at the end of KOTM there was stuff in the credits about using titan droppings as biofuel, obviously they’re still walking around up top! Can’t take that from me. Nope.

- Who the FUCK is Ren Serizawa and how is he related to Ishiro Serizawa? IS he related? Maybe they just dropped the surname as another “yeah this is a Godzilla movie for Godzilla fans” easter egg but I have a hard time believing that he can’t be somehow related to the other character with the Very Important Last Name who was so important in the last two Godzilla movies. If he is related I’m sure it’s been explained in a tie-in comic or the novelization or something, I’ll look it up later.

- I had to look up how much weight huge battleships can carry while writing a KOTM fic where Ghidorah hitches a ride on one, and y’all, I had to pull weird gravity-negating magic to get him to ride on that boat. Godzilla and Kong woulda sunk that boat like a rock. All I could think during that scene is “this wouldn’t work and I know that because I DID THE RESEARCH and I wasn’t even getting PAID.” I’ll choose to believe that Monarch gets special heavy duty ships designed to carry titans but nobody mentioned it because it wasn’t relevant to Kong’s journey.

- The bit where they could see where Godzilla was swimming because he’d got half a ship hooked to him that was bobbing around on the surface, didn’t Jaws do something like that with a buoy? It’s been ages since I’ve seen Jaws. Anyway good reference.

- Insert “they’re gonna need a bigger boat” joke

- I LOVED the part where they shut down all the ships to get Godzilla to leave. Both because, one, it’s a spectacular callback to KOTM’s “turn off all the guns so he knows we’re not a threat” that makes it seem like now that’s just what Monarch knows what to do to get G to chill out, and two... we know that Godzilla backs off either when he’s killed his enemy or when his enemy has yielded to him. At the end of KOTM—and the end of GVK—the act of yielding is presented as very ceremonial and uniform across species: everyone lowers anything they’ve got that could be dangerous (claws, fangs, beaks, axes) and bows to show Godzilla they’re not gonna fight. Battleships, obviously, can’t bow, but even without being inducted into whatever secret titan cultural intricacies might be going on, humans have figured out their own way to “bow” to Godzilla: cut all the power, so their ships can’t move and can’t use weapons. I know the movie presented it as “playing dead,” but c’mon, if Godzilla could hear MechaG power up from halfway around the planet then he could hear that Kong’s heart was still beating, and he’s been around enough boats to know humans can turn them off and on when they want. The humans bowed to Godzilla. He accepted that they yielded and left.

- Mark Russell looked like such a dad in this movie, like he’s retired 100% from being a rugged action hero and now he’s just Pure Dad. I like him better when he’s a dad, it’s a good development for him. He got like 3 lines and I’m like “I appreciate this character development.”

- Despite all my qualms about how conspiracy theories and extremist groups are handled in Monsterverse (and WHICH conspiracy theories they decide to reference), I really love Madison and Bernie’s dynamic. The adult man who’s the excitable wide-eyed believer in every BS conspiracy you can possibly imagine; and then the serious, severe Teenage Girl On A Mission who’s hypercompetent because she was raised for five years by a friggin doomsday cult militia; and despite having wildly different personalities they’re just, in total agreement about everything. Handled just a BIT differently (like, leaving out the more gross IRL conspiracies) they would be a wildly fun comedic duo—especially with Josh the Only Sane Man coming along as the hapless sidekick. And they all play off of each other so well! Both in a comedic sense, and in more serious moments—when Bernie talked about his wife, there was a real moment of empathy between him and Madison with very little said. I’d watch an entire movie just about the three of them. I’d watch a TV show.

- On the one hand I wasn’t too much of a fan of KOTM’s “all titans... are inherently In Tune With Nature... nature has a Balance, because that’s a Real Thing and not an anthropocentric concept to describe how we like nature to act, and they automatically restore it... because they’re like, some kinda borderline divinities or something... we should probably be worshipping them...” thing; but, now that it was totally absent in GVK, I sorta miss it. Like I feel like there needs to be a balance, a few humans who are like “i lowkey worship these dudes?” and a few others who are like “they’re cool but like, that’s a lil extreme” and that neither side be presented as Right in how they regard titans’ relationship with nature.

- “All titans come from THE HOLLOW EARTH” nah I don’t buy that it’s silly. Basically, what I object to is the idea that all titans have some sort of intrinsic similarity (they all come from the same hitherto-unknown location; they all are part of the same pack that has the same alpha; they all are fueled/fed by the same energy source; etc) rather than letting them be SEPARATE species whose only unifying traits are “they’re all big enough to fuck everything up everywhere they go” and “they’re big enough that the typically-insurmountable barriers between different biomes (mountain ranges, valleys, long distances with terrible weather) aren’t insurmountable for them, so even if they’re specialized in different environments they still all have to deal with each other pretty often.” I’ll make some exceptions for convergent evolution (i.e., claiming multiple titans developed similar traits that are relatively easy to spontaneously evolve and a prerequisite for a creature to survive at such a large size). But I can’t buy “this big gorilla has more biologically in common with this big crocodile-iguana than he does with, say, gorillas,” or most of the other “all these titans have THIS IN COMMON” claims that Monsterverse makes, including “everyone’s from hollow earth.” So I’m tossing that out the window and substituting my own headcanons. Some might’ve evolved there but some evolved on the surface. Maybe a majority of them like ducking in and out of the hollow earth like some kind of titan shortcut system. Kong’s species, I can buy, IS native to hollow earth, considering that they built a whole-ass society down there with tools and architecture.

- I’m SO curious about the little underground Kong home, the Godzilla motif in the floor, and the axe that appeared to be made with a Godzilla scute. What’s the story there??? We know Godzilla’s species and Kong’s species are ancient rivals. Is it because Kong’s species hunted Godzilla’s to steal their scutes to make weapons, seeing them as a valuable resource the way, like, early humans considered woolly mammoths a valuable resource—thus making that Godzilla on the floor equivalent to cave art of mammoths made by people who hunted them—until the Godzillas got pissed and started fighting back en masse? Or were Godzillas and Kongs already enemies when Kongs decided to start making weapons out of their corpses? Did they use to be allies, fighting together, with Godzillas voluntarily offering shed scutes and/or bones of their deceased members to Kongs, and that place used to be a shared home until they started fighting?

- What about that power source, is it something that was already there that both Kongs and Godzillas started to deliberately harvest for technology/atomic breath? Or did Godzillas automatically channel that stuff and Kongs exploited/borrowed/traded with Godzillas to utilize it too? Or is the power from Godzillas who collaboratively poured a bunch of power into the place thus that Kongs were able to use it too? I doubt Godzilla’s species CREATED all that weird energy but the question remains of whether, like, they channel it FROM underground, or naturally produce the same thing in their own bodies, or what.

- Godzilla using his atomic breath to dig a hole STRAIGHT TO KONG just to KICK HIS ASS is hilarious. How lucky that Hong Kong just HAPPENS to be straight over Kong’s house! Were all the tunnels to the hollow earth made by pissed off Godzillas who wanted to kick monkey ass??

- I loved the aesthetic of the battle scene in Hong Kong, with the brightly colored neon building outlines, VERY cool look. The choreography of the battle scene was great too, especially

- we literally broke into applause when Kong shoved the axe handle in Godzilla’s mouth. Love it, perfect callback, that was the ONE thing from the original King Kong Vs Godzilla I was hoping to see referenced and there it was.

- You could really see a difference in how Kong and Godzilla fought—Kong doing a better job at using tools and the environment, Godzilla fighting more like a reptile. They seemed to emphasize Godzilla’s more animalistic behaviors in this movie to accomplish that contrast—he was down on all fours and moving like a crocodile more often, he was clawing at Kong’s chest—but even though it seemed a bit different of a combat technique it also didn’t seem out of place compared to how he fought in prior movies. And we’ve already seen that if Godzilla’s involved in a fight and one of the combatants knows how to use the environment, it’s typically not gonna be Godzilla. (See: Ghidorah using the reflection in a building’s windows to see what’s behind him, and recognizing a nearby power source and biting it to juice himself up.)

- So many of Godzilla’s enemies seem to have specialized in negating his atomic breath in order to combat him! The MUTOs directly suppress his ability to use it—and it makes sense that that’s an inborn ability they have, since they evolved to use Godzilla’s species as prey. Kong has a weapon that both acts as a shield to absorb the breath and turn it back against Godzilla’s species—they didn’t evolve to counter Godzilla, but they developed tools once a rivalry happened. Ghidorah’s the exception—which makes sense, since he came from space—but even at that we see him using tactics specifically to take into account Godzilla’s most powerful weapon (such as keeping one head on lookout for when he starts glowing so that they know when they need to dodge).

- LOVED the reveal that MechaG was based off of Ghidorah’s brain, it has vibes of both the Kiryu Saga and the way that Heisei MechaG is based off of Mecha-King Ghidorah. Not the most surprising plot twist, since we’d theorized that they might use San to make MechaG, but I wasn’t 100% sure they were gonna go with it until they finally did. Even when I was going “huh, the mecha pilot’s chamber looks weirdly organic” I didn’t make the connection to WHY until the reveal, lol.

- “Ghidorah’s necks are so long that the heads have to communicate with each other telepathically” that’s COMPLETELY WILD but I love it, it follows very well from their prior portrayal as telepathic empaths in Heisei, it lines up with their emphasis on electricity (because BRAINWAVES AND ELECTRICITY, hey ho movie monster pseudo science!), and it very much compliments my own private headcanon that they’ve got some psychic/mind control abilities.

- The movie ended with both “Godzilla won, technically” but also “since they teamed up as equals, the ending doesn’t FEEL like ‘Godzilla wins, Kong loses’ but rather ‘they both won against a common foe’” and since I’m on both Team Godzilla and Team They Should Be Friends, I’m happy with this outcome. Plus since the last time they fought, the Japanese movie company graciously let the American monster win, so it’s only polite that the American movie company graciously let the Japanese monster win.

- There were just a few too many humans in this movie. I was intrigued by Ren but we didn’t get much out of him, but like I guess somebody had to be in the pilot’s seat other than the Apex CEO. Didn’t care for the author of the hollow earth book, I feel like his role was superfluous. Didn’t need the Apex CEO’s daughter there at all, coulda done without her. How about this, combine all three roles. Instead of having a whole-ass author who knows about the hollow earth, just casually reference that Rick from KOTM wrote a book about it since he was the expert, and (since he wasn’t in this movie) say that he tragically died going to explore the hollow earth himself, and that way we’ve got the book with the “titans are from there” theory AND an excuse to share the “humans die when they go underground” info. Now, have Ren be working for Apex as a pilot for Mechagodzilla, but have him be MechaG’s pilot because he’s also a good pilot in general, and can fly those HEAV things. Have Apex send him to Monarch to be like “hey, you guys trust me right, since I’m Ishiro Serizawa’s relative? We at Apex have heard all about your failed hollow earth expedition, and due to Ishiro I’ve got some past ties to Monarch so I’ve got high clearance with y’all, so I could bring over this useful Apex tech that’d let you go underground and use what I know about hollow earth from my past time at Monarch to help guide things.” Once they’ve got the little chunk of energy stuff and go topside, he hustles it straight to Apex and straps into his seat to run MechaG. Bam, you’ve combined “person who knows enough about hollow earth to help the expedition,” “person who represents Apex’s interests and gets the energy,” and “person who pilots MechaG” into one character, in a way that takes three flat/underdeveloped characters and turns them into a single interesting character with a lot going on and some intriguing ties to the rest of the cast.

I think that’s everything?? Hoo.

#gvk #godzilla vs kong #gvk spoilers #godzilla vs kong spoilers #godzilla #meta

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years ago

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for @bend-me-shape-me's spn advent calendar 2020. prompt: carols.

dedicated to @one-more-offbeat-anthem!! happy birthday <3

After Chuck's defeated, and Billie's gone, and the Empty has been bargained with (semantics, any of the Winchesters would say if you asked one of the four to elaborate) into returning Cas in exchange for eternal sleep, there's peace.

After they're done, and really done, there's time.

A moment to breathe, a minute to look at the clouds, and hours stretching endless, days on end, resonating with something resembling quiet.

And then, there's a guitar.

"Nope." Dean declares. "Never seen that thing in here before. And I once did Christmas inventory by myself, so I should know."

Sam snickers at Dean's cavalier tone. He'd been content to examine the instrument from a distance, unlike his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. "You had to do it yourself, Dean. Those were the exact words of the bet."

"I was drunk, and you hustled me!"

"You've known I play poker my entire life!"

"Well, yeah." Dean flashes his best shit-eating grin. "But you've sucked, your entire life, so —"

"— sure I have —"

"— your entire life has really just been a very long, very lame hustle!" Dean spreads his arms in a display of triumph. "And ergo, you hustled me into Christmas inventory-ing. The case is rested, your honor."

"That's not how you say —"

"Sam. Dean." Cas interjects, loud and exasperated. Sam shuts up immediately, eyes falling to his lap, while Dean exchanges a sheepish look with Cas (and Jack, who to his credit, seemed to be unaffected by the mini-feud. But that's less the part about him being God-Lite and more about him being himself. A kid who grew up watching his dads bicker endlessly and mostly, uneventfully, and has come to terms with it as a primary aspect of (at least, his) family.)

Cas, as usual, puts up with less of their crap. "Is this really necessary right now?"

Dean loves him for it, except when it's targeted at Dean and since that's kind of a lot, he isn't sure he loves it, or just loves Cas and generalises the things he does under the wider bracket of Cas.

"And if it's not," Cas goes on, using what is probably his I-led-garrisons-in-heaven voice, which automatically sends a shiver up Dean's spine. "Can we agree the guitar is, somehow, a recent addition and leave it at that?"

Sam nods slightly, apologetic. Dean just rolls his eyes, but it's a yes. (Everyone there knows it's a yes.)

"It's not cursed." Jack cuts in brightly. "Or out of the ordinary at all."

"So," Dean blinks. "We just happen to have an awesome new guitar show up, completely randomly, in this top secret Bunker no one know about, minus any ulterior motives or death curses?"

Jack grins. "Yes."

"Cool." Dean says immediately, and Sam huffs an amused laugh. He thinks he sees Cas smile as well, and a smirk grows on his face.

"Dibs."

Unsurprisingly, nobody counters his dibs, and Dean ends up taking the guitar to his room.

It's after a few days of insecurity, leading right into embarrassment, leading further to ignoring its existence, and further still to a mostly depressive array of memories — before it circles back to insecurity, and is about to repeat all over again, when he stops himself in his proverbial spiral, and decides to just friggin' do it.

That night, he picks up the pick.

Fiddles with it in his hands for a minute, and proceeds to abandon the idea again, because it does not feel right. Different shape, different weight.

And Dean Winchester's already enough of a misfit for this project, for his guitar pick to be a poor goddamn fit in his hand too.

But there's something about being so close that stirs up motivation in his heart, similar to the first day they found the damn thing, and next morning, he's out looking for a music shop in town.

That night, he finally plays.

It's uncertain — experimental — and he soon realizes why nobody ever says a damn thing about guitars when they say you never forget how to ride a bike.

But then, slowly, and really slowly at that, music seems to return to his fingers.

It isn't smooth by any chance, or even really accurate, but there's a faint tug in his brain that leads him to the next chord, and a twitch in his wrist that tells him when to strum, and he's awful, he's really friggin' awful, but even repeatedly saying so in his head refuses to dampen the overwhelming feeling that lights him up from the inside to start to feel like maybe he can play again. There's hope, and there's terrible, off-timed, broken music, and there's Dean in the middle of it, and maybe he can actually do this.

Recollection of how to play had come to his hands as they trembled, and tried, but the exhilaration of it, and the joy, only come back to his heart once he'd stopped, heart racing, adrenaline high, and unexplainable tears pricking his eyes.

Dean Winchester goes to bed that night, giddy in a way he hasn't been in years.

And outside his bedroom, his family of three exchange confused glances when the playing stopped abruptly, and then smiles when a sound that can only be said to bear semblance to a squeal, follows the silence.

(The first song Dean had played in over twenty five years had been Joy to the World.

It had also been the first song he'd ever learned — Cassie's choice, not his. Sam, Cas and Jack didn't know any of that. To them, it had just been a christmas carol. But there was also something so moving about that, soft in a way each of them knew Dean would fight against being, that they didn't realize they hadn't budged from Dean's door, long until faint snores replaced the quiet, and they left for their own beds, wordlessly already having decided on a plan for the next day.)

Cas knocks first on Dean's bedroom door, and all music immediately ceases. There's a yell from inside after ten seconds of a shuffling kind of silence.

"Yeah?"

"May I come in?" Cas asks.

Another pause.

Cas wonders worriedly if Sam and Jack were mistaken when they said that Cas had to be first, that he was their best shot at getting Dean to open up — the easiest past Dean's line of defense.

Then Dean says, a little quieter. "Yeah, sure."

Cas enters, gently closing the door behind himself before his eyes land on Dean — and he fights the urge to smile, because Dean hasn't kept away the guitar or anything. It's still on his lap, not in playing stance, with his arms folded over it — but he's not trying to hide it from Cas.

"Is everything okay?" Dean interrupts his reverie. Cas nods.

Neither of them say anything for a minute.

"Can I listen?"

Cas surprises himself with his own courage to ask — no twisted words or excuses to stay, just a simple question. Things were so rarely simple for them, but this wasn't a common occurrence either so it evened out.

"Y-yeah." Dean mutters.

Cas lights up.

"I suck, by the way." Dean adds, almost immediately. "But I'll suck less with time, I'm hoping. I mean, I'm supposed to, you know, but I — uh, I mean — maybe I —"

Cas realizes that he hadn't stopped smiling at Dean and that's what had made Dean falter, and he looks away, embarrassed.

"I'll just play, I guess." Dean manages smally, sounding as embarrassed as him.

"Please."

Dean clears his throat instead of playing.

"Yeah."

Cas can tell he's nervous. Even if he weren't good at, and very used to reading Dean, he could've gauged as much. And he wishes he had the right words, he really does, but he's aware a sincere speech of how much it means that Dean let him stay, and listen, would have the opposite effect of calming.

Then there's another knock on the door, and Cas relaxes.

"Dean?"

Sure enough, it's Jack.

Sam had explained how Dean was most likely, unfortunately, to deflect if he was there — "his denial fires up, Cas. I associate it with a parenting complex of some kind, and he just won't let go of it." — so the order had been decided as Cas, Jack and Sam. No overwhelming by arriving all three at once, or one after the other as if it were planned. No, they'd enter after some time, giving the previous person time to make Dean comfortable to them before the next enters.

Cas thinks it's a rather brilliant plan, and wonders if he should ask Sam to formulate a similar one to get Dean to open up about other things too. He doesn't, ultimately.

"Yeah?" Dean yells back.

"Have you seen Cas?"

That had been the plan.

"Yeah," Dean raises his voice to answer. "He, uh. He's right here. Come on in."

And Jack does, and eyes Cas with probably too much meaning (he means triumph) for Dean to not have noticed, before turning to the latter. "Oh. Were you about to play for Cas?"

Dean colors at that, his ears reddening almost instantly, and Cas files it away for pondering later.

"Can I be here too?"

And Dean's eyes widen a little — sign of anxiety, maybe understanding — and he licks his lips and then he nods. "I guess. I mean, okay, fine. But didn't you need Cas for something?" He adds, confused.

"I," Jack hesitates. Oh no, Cas thinks. Sam's prepared him for this, but Jack looks like he's about to, as Dean would say, wing it. And all-powerful or not, he knows his son is a terrible liar. "No, I just wanted to know if you'd seen him."

Dean narrows his eyes.

"Now I do know. That, uh, you've seen him." Jack braves on, determined to reach the bottom of the proverbial hole he'd dug for himself apparently. "So now, I don't need to know anything. Now I can stay."

Dean sighs.

"I can, right?"

There's a lightness in Dean's voice instead of tension when he says, "Yeah."

"Thank you." Jack says brightly, and all Cas can do is shake his head when Jack turns to him for feedback, and the both of them proceed to wear (nearly matching, but not on purpose) excited stares as they focus on Dean.

The final straw is when there's a third knock on the door, and Sam pokes his head in. One unconvincing "Where's everyone at?" later, he's joined Cas and Jack in staring with a unnecessary (and hopefully unintended) comfort-the-vic's-family smile at Dean.

God, he loves these dumbasses and would give his life for everyone present in the room, but none of them can act for shit.

It's glaringly obvious they've all respectively shown up to listen to him play.

Which is bullshit in itself, because Dean wasn't being modest when he told Cas he sucks — he does suck. But then, he doesn't think any of them would mind. Sam would probably unlock new levels of the puppy eyes if he knew how happy even playing awfully, made Dean. Jack would be blunt, of course, but undeterringly sweet. And Cas? He'd probably smile at him all the way through, just — that smile of his, that always seems to make time freeze and Dean's heart stutter.

So Dean decides magnanimously to not call them out.

Right away, anyway.

Instead, he turns to them with a question. "Any requests?"

(He can't play one of the only songs he remembers having learned without errors yet, so obviously asking for requests is the right way to go. But you see, once you've given up on impressing, it's only fair to see yourself to the end of the chaos.)

"Christmas carols." Jack answers before anyone else.

"It's May."

"Sam's," Jack swallows. Dean should really get on teaching the kid how to lie. "Sam's making me listen to carols."

"In May?" He asks his brother this time.

Sam shrugs, struggling to keep a diplomatic face.

"You're going to grow up to be the young adult who doesn't take off the Christmas lights in January." Dean informs Jack, who absorbs his words with all the seriousness Dean should have expected. "And, fine. We can do carols."

Cas speaks up. "Any carol you'd like, Dean."

"Nah," Dean shakes his head. "Jack requested it. We'll do what he says." And he insists to his conscience that he said so because he wants to make Jack happy, and not because he's well aware the kid isn't being subjected to carols by Sam in friggin' May, and probably doesn't know any.

"Oh." Jack's face falls. He looks at Sam in the most conspicuous way anyone's ever looked at anyone. "I —"

"Uhhuh?"

"Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer!" Cas blurts, on behalf of Jack, and there's a two second gap where Sam facepalms and Jack exchanges a conspirational glance with Cas, and then Dean's throwing his head back and laughing.

And soon, Sam's joining in with an exasperated kind of chuckling as if he's gotten stuck in the wrong team but he doesn't regret a thing, and then Cas starts too, mostly from looking at Dean losing his shit (Dean strictly ignores thinking about that part and focuses on imprinting Cas's laugh to memory) and probably also because the ridiculosity of the entire situation probably struck him, and of course Jack's smiling at all of them, and it's, altogether, everything Dean could ever have wished for.

The evening ends with Dean playing Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer (of course) for at least an hour while consistently getting better at the repeating music, and although it's him humming under his breath (like he always has while playing) that starts it off, soon all of them are offering their own awful renditions to the chaos. Cas is off-key, Sam somehow manages to screw up the lyrics, and Jack is as flat as a friggin' plateau.

And it all comes together in a wholly unmelodious kind of awesome — to Dean the same way they say a mother's love comes through for an ugly child.

After Rudolph, it's Silent Night (another song Dean's learned, it hits him, once he's trying to find the right chord) and even Cas manages to look disappointed at the lyrics Sam and he come up with to make up for not knowing the real ones, and since Jack's never heard this one, he simply listens in rapt attention leaving Dean wondering if he probably ended up learning the wrong version on account of all his concentration.

And last of all, it's We Wish You A Merry Christmas, and Dean plays the chorus enough times that he's perfect at it, because for once, no one messes up the beat or the lyrics, and everyone has the most fun.

All in all, it's an evening to remember.

What Dean learns through it all is primarily the lesson that letting your family think they tricked you into having an audience is sometimes an excellent choice to make, and that things can be crap, but still be enjoyed. That doesn't mean he's not going to practice his ass off learning to play at least the choruses of the Led Zepp tracks he gifted Cas (the idea came to him in bed last night, and Cas has always sounded like he enjoyed them, okay?) so he can play them 'for Cas' as the kid so casually put — but then, some things are different from other things, just the way some love's different too.

And while some things are about efforts, and saying the words that scare you, others are about letting go, and singing carols in bright and sunny May.

The only thing Dean's sure about is that just about all of it comes down to being free.

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deanspatroclvs · 4 years ago

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For I still was a blind man

I wrote a small Supernatural ficlet because I needed to fix that ending of 15x20. mainly posting it here because I don’t have an Ao3. Enjoy! ~

The road seemed endless, framed by green trees and golden sunlight. There was no noise but wind rustling in the leaves, the smooth whirring of the black shiny car and the music blaring through the windows. Carry on my wayward son. There‘ll be peace when you‘re done.

Dean Winchester watched the road before him, replaying everything in his life inside his head like one of these blockbusters he‘d always wanted to watch in cinema. The leather on Baby‘s wheel felt soft and comforting as he drove on. So, that‘s how it‘s gonna be. He was in heaven, stuck here for eternity, running on empty like a broken record. At least Sammy would live on, perhaps find a wife, have children, die of old age. Dean didn‘t know when he‘d see his little brother again. Time moved differently here, Bobby said. How long is it gonna be? Years? Minutes? Seconds? The car roared as Dean stepped on the gas pedal. He barely noticed the peaceful forest on his side, merging into a blur as the car took on speed. He didn‘t know peace. All he knew was this road, driving on and on in life and death, taking him to a new place as it has always been.

Lay your weary head to rest. Don‘t you cry no more.

Although Dean was in heaven, he wasn‘t happy. Even the car didn‘t feel right. Baby was too new, too smooth. The seats and windows were clean, there was no smell of stale beer, no tapes. It all seemed too perfect. Dean knew he should be content. He got Baby, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, his parents. But something was missing. He was torn out of life before he could even live. Leaving his brother alone, not being able to watch him grow. His hands clenched tighter around the wheel and Dean breathed out. He was shaking, tears burning in his eyes. One thought had entered his mind, the thought he‘d tried to banish and ignore and block out. Cas.

Once I rose above the noise and confusion, Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion

The sun shone brightly, not too hot, not too cold, but Dean didn‘t care. He tried to focus on the road before him, feeling Baby purr beneath him as if it was her first ride. His mind was whirring as he replayed the last moments of his life – too fast, too quick, too cruel. Everything was taken from him but Sam and then he lost him too. And now that he was in heaven, he was supposed to be happy? There were too many things left unsaid and now Dean will never have the chance.

I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high

Bobby said, he was here. With Jack. Rebuilding heaven. Dean knew why Cas didn‘t greet him, when he arrived through the pearly gates. He knew.

Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man

Darkness wrapped over the bright trenchcoat, over the blue eyes, over the last smile. „I love you.“ These three words echoed in Dean‘s mind. The raspy voice who said them. The hunter swallowed as he drove on. In the days after Cas‘ death he tried to act as normal as possible, avoid Sam‘s worried glances. Only late at night he would drink, he would listen to their mixtape for hours, sitting at the table, running his fingers over the carved name. After defeating Chuck, Jack disappeared, taking all hope with him. There was no possibility to save Cas anymore. Dean knew just the two of them wouldn‘t be able to defeat the Empty, so he tried to continue on with his life. He was glad that he could hide his grief so well. The years have taught him the mastery of charade. Even Sam didn‘t notice a thing and seemingly was happy enough to have his big brother besides him. Blissful ignorance kept him in his sleep, while Dean was screaming inside next door.

Though my mind could think, I still was a mad man

Thats why Dean knew. Cas probably lost faith in him. He probably wondered why Dean didn‘t come to save him after all these years. And he was right. Dean was a coward. He had been broken and bruised and battered and only after Cas had died, something in him healed. The words Cas had said in that room had fueled this little voice inside him, whispering and screaming into his ear that maybe Dean wasn‘t Daddy‘s little soldier, a blunt instrument, a cold-blooded killer. He was stronger than this and only Cas made him realize that he deserved to be saved. But now Cas was gone and up with Jack somewhere, fixing things that could be fixed. A shuddering breath escaped Dean‘s throat as he realized that their bond couldn‘t be fixed anymore. Back then, he didn‘t have a moment to think, a chance to say anything when Cas was swallowed by the Empty. The words came after in these restless nights, in an endless stream, voices in his head that could only be quieted when he grabbed a pen and wrote the words down. Of course he hid them beneath his pillow, these pages full of apologies. Sam never knew.

And now Dean was here, in heaven, with Baby on the road. Cas‘ sacrifice had been for nothing. Cas must really hate him.

I hear the voices when I'm dreaming, I can hear them say

Dean swallowed hard as he kept his eyes on the grey road, his mind running in circles. The trees went by in a flash of green and brown. The road seemed endless. The music echoed in his ears and he just drove. How much time had passed? Ten, fifteen minutes? Ten years on earth? His whole body was frozen, tensed, anxiety-filled, as he sat in this too new car, listening to Kansas, all alone. He never realized how big Baby actually was, how much space there was. It felt strange not to have Sam sitting next to him, pouting about Dean‘s choice of music, Cas in the back, squinting at Dean as he didn‘t get the reference. A bitter chuckle escaped Dean‘s throat as he thought of motel rooms, fast food dinners, coffee spilled on the seats, weapons clinking in the backseat. Fuck. He rubbed his eyes, willing the traitorous tears away. A burning pain spread in his chest and filled his lungs. Dean let out a shaky breath, opening his eyes, looking into the rearview mirror. And froze. Cas.

Carry on, my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done

The car came to a screeching halt and Dean stumbled out of Baby as fast as he could, keeping his eyes on the angel standing on the middle of the road.

Cas didn‘t move, just looking at him with these beautiful blue eyes. He looked just the way he was when he was swallowed by the empty. When he said those wor- No. Dean didn‘t want to think of it right now. Slowly he walked towards the angel, a few feet of distance parting them. What should he say? Why was Cas here? Why did this all happen? „Hello Dean.“, he heard the familiar gruff voice.„I didn‘t expect you so soon.“ Cas‘ face was hard, blank only for the people that didn‘t know him well. But Dean could see how his jawline was set, how his brows were furrowed, his eyes slightly squinted. Panic washed over him. Cas was pissed. Dean swallowed. „Well – um-“, he started, chuckling nervously. „Vampires, I guess? In the end I got staked. Irony, huh?“, he said awkwardly and glanced at the angel before him. For a while Cas didn‘t say anything. Hurt suddenly flashed over his face before it disappeared beneath the cool mask. „It really was for nothing.“, he muttered and turned around. „Enjoy heaven.“,Castiel said quietly and walked away.

Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more

No.

This could not be happening. Dean just saw Cas again and now he was leaving? Fuck if he let that happen. His feet reacted faster than his mind and ran to him. His hand grabbed Cas‘ arm. He is real, Dean thought, he is really alive. He felt the warmth beneath his fingers through the fabric of the all too familiar trenchcoat.

Great, Dean, now say something. „Cas.“, he stammered. „We...- we need to talk.“ Just friggin‘ peachy, best way to start a conversation, the sarcastic voice in his head said.

Castiel turned around, surprise glinting in his blue eyes. „Dean.“, he said calmly, not moving his arm away. Heart racing, Dean slowly removed his hand. „Y‘know. What you said-“, he started but Cas already interrupted him. „You don‘t need to do this.“, he said, a sad and angry look on his face. „No, I need to do this. You need to listen to me, Cas!“, replied Dean. Anger surged through him too. „So don‘t fly away with that feathered ass of yours!“

Cas glared at him and in that moment Dean just wanted to punch him. Is it that hard to just stay here and listen to what he has to say?

„Look, Cas.“, Dean started. „I‘m not good with words, so- um..“ Cas just stood still, waiting for what he had to say. It made him nervous. He felt his heart racing in his chest and tried to grasp the next words in his already scrambled brain. Fuck. He really wasn‘t good at this. A few minutes went by, them just staring awkwardly at each other. Then Cas sighed. „I know, Dean. You don‘t feel the same way. You don‘t need to say this.“, he murmured and took a few steps back, shoving his hands down the pockets of his trenchcoat. Dean just gaped at him in shock. „Do you really believe that?“, he said a little louder than expected and flinched. Cas just stared at him blankly, mask all up. „Yes.“, he just said. Oh why did it have to be so hard? „You‘re wrong, Cas.“, Dean growled, patience growing thin. „Oh yeah? Well, let me know if you‘re really sure about this!“, Cas snapped, eyes squinting in anger. „I gave you everything, Dean! And if this is all you can say, then I don‘t see the need to talk about this!“ Okay. Cas really was pissed.

Dean‘s hands clenched to fists and he walked towards him. „You really think I haven‘t thought about this at all? You really think that you mean that little to me? Fuck, Cas. Didn‘t you see that-“, he interrupted himself, hurt washing all over him. His heart was hammering hard in his chest while the other was still glaring at him. „What?“, growled Cas. Dean swallowed and his eyes met Cas‘. Green met Blue. Careful, he laid a hand on Cas‘ shoulder and took a deep breath „I never had the opportunity to reply, Cas.“, he said fiercely, angrily. „You said I could let go of that anger and grief and when you died I couldn‘t. Because I needed you to stay, I needed you here!“. Dean hoped this was enough. He was proud of himself for at least saying something.

But Cas‘ face fell. Anger mixed with fury and disappointment flashed all through his eyes within the matter of seconds. „Alright, Dean, I got it. You‘re hurt. Get over it.“, he hissed and yanked his shoulder away from Dean‘s hand. „Is there anything else? Because I would like to get back to help Jack. I hope you like your heaven, Dean, since I figured it got all you needed.“. Shit. Did Cas create this? Dean staggered back, words lost in his mouth at the revelation that his former friend not only died for him, bled for him and now even created his heaven for him without even expecting anything in return. How did he ever deserve someone like Cas? The angel in question just glared at him. „Goodbye, Dean.“, he just said and turned around, walking away once more. Why he didn‘t use his wings, Dean couldn‘t comprehend. His mind was racing anyway, full of thoughts, full of things he could possibly say. But should he really say something? He stared blankly at Cas‘ back, slowly moving away, further from him. That hurt. That distance hurt. Knowing, that when he let Cas go now, he would never see him again.

„Cas.“, he finally murmured. „Wait.“ Cas showed no sign he heard him and continued walking. This was enough. Something in Dean snapped and he ran. His feet carried him on the hard road, towards the angel. The angel that was once his and all of his and now none of his. One hand grabbed his arm and yanked him around, the other pulling him closer. There was just a second where Dean saw irritation in his eyes before his lips crashed with Cas. They were dry meeting soft ones. Dean‘s entire mind went blank and all he could hear was his heartbeat. Cas seemed frozen in shock. Suddenly, slowly, Dean felt two hands sneaking around his back, grabbing his shirt. Cas returned the kiss with uncertainty which soon disappeared. His hands went to Cas‘ neck, feeling the short black hair at his fingertips. They kissed for seconds, minutes, what could be years on Earth and Dean didn‘t care. He focused on the feeling of Cas. On the radiating warmth that seemed to erase all the hurt and confusion. It felt as if the bond snapped right into place like a broken bone healed. Softly, slowly he pulled away from Cas and opened his eyes. Blue ones looked at him in confusion and hope and Dean let out a shuddering breath, his heart up in his throat. „Me too.“, he whispered and saw Cas‘ eyes widen in shock. Dean couldn‘t help it. He chuckled quietly. „You know, you need to stop looking like that.“, he muttered, which made Cas frown. „Like what?“, he asked with his raspy voice. „Like that stupid angel who wouldn‘t ever believe that I would let him go away like that!“, Dean replied, smirking. His fingers stroked Cas‘ neck and damn, did it feel good. Well, it did feel a little weird, being so close to Cas, but mostly it felt good. „May I remind you, that you‘re the one who died on a rusty nail?“, Cas replied sarcastically and Dean snorted. „Touche.“ He stepped back, but let his hands rest on Cas‘ shoulders, in case that damn angel would still want to fly away. „We good?“, he asked, worry rising up. Maybe Cas really hated him. Maybe he truly did everything wrong.

But the angel nodded, brows furrowed in deep thought. „I think so.“, he murmured and Dean‘s heart jumped. „That‘s good. It‘s good. Good.“, Dean stammered, barely comprehensating what is just happening. Cas forgave him. He let out a long breath of relief and took one of Cas‘ hands, intertwining his fingers with Cas‘. Baby steps. Hands. Kisses. They are both new with this. It will probably still take a while to admit these three words for him. „As long as you‘re with me, Cas.“, he said, smiling. A small tentative smile spread over Cas‘ face and he nodded. „You know I am, Dean.“

Carry on, my wayward son, There'll be peace when you are done

From the moment the angel of the lord pulled the righteous man out of hell they were found and changed, hunting and hurting each other until they were lost again. For twelve years they fought against the world and themselves. Then came death and darkness on their shadowed wings, separating them once more. That day in heaven when they met again something set into place like a well-oiled machine. Just like the black car in which the angel and the hunter explored the whole world together in eternity.

The car which didn‘t feel empty anymore.

And for the first time in years, Dean felt true happiness.

Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry, don't you cry no more

#destiel #supernatural #spn #deancas #15x20 #finale #fix it fic #dean #castiel #dean winchester #my stuff

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shhhhhskars · 4 years ago

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Dating Phase Goodness.

Soft Alex. Dating Phase. Snoh Allegra. The City. Words: 2,041. Dating phase goodness.......I have so many feels for it. As always, I hope you enjoy♡ (The ask: Do u listen to snoh aalegra? I keep imagining them in the dating phase but they’ve gone to her gig with their own friends and meet up unexpectedly and end up having a romantic night of just swaying to her music at the low lit club and exchanging soft words 😭 thank you for sending this in and ruining me)

There’s something so wonderfully enigmatic about summer-time in New York City. The tarmac is glistening from the heat, the day-time sun is hot, enough to keep the entire city pulsating and breathing through the night. There’s something in the air- this thrilling, wild energy, this feeling that anything can happen. Friends gather unexpectedly, running into each other in the streets, small taverns revive their outdoor terraces for the season. The parks and beaches stay open later, and they’re usually bustling throughout the evenings. People are happier than usual, neighbors greet each other for the first time in months.

The August days are long, but the sun had finally set, and she stripped down, eager to get out of the damp clothing. A cool shower can change anyone’s mood, revive the most exhausted. She stepped out refreshed, smelling like rose water and sandalwood, a nice change from the stale deodorant and sweat that clung to her before. She slipped into her tiny, short black dress that cinched snuggly at her waist, and hugged graciously on her curves. The familiar chime rang out as she dusted a earthy blush on the apples of her cheeks, signaling a stream of texts from the heinous group chat that she’d been tempted to put on mute for the last hour.

Snoh Allegra found her way to the city and is playing at The Highline Ballroom tonight, the turn out is delicious. The entire place just feels sexier, from her aura alone. Voice so strong, but soothing, like tea sweetened with milk but just enough honey, to make it yummy to drink. Drinks are flowing, weed smoke floats through the air, and everyone is laughing. Everyone in her friend group is...oddly, getting along, for once, and there’s not much that could make this moment better. Except......maybe Alexander being here?

Oh fuck- who the hell was she turning into? This is why she was hesitant to begin this…thing, in the first place. Alexander was hard to keep out of the brain as of late. Ever since their chance meeting in the East Village, he kept her phone warm, unashamed to make his presence known. She was grateful that he wasn’t the slightest bit clingy, but could instantly sense that he valued consistency, and taking up space. He frequently checked in on her, sending dumb little shit to her phone throughout the day, memes or whatever the fuck he saw that amused him, or just straight up goofy shit he saw around the city. The whole damn thing was all still exceptionally new, this idea of seeing each other. Most of the time it was just enjoying each other’s company, nothing too crazy, and was lovely this way. Experimental and new.

A familiar arm circled around her waist, pulling on her frame. She could tell by the smell alone who it was. A manicured hand lifted against the rigid chest. “Jim, you’re about one drink away from me cutting you off, again.” It was a joke, mostly. Naturally there would be that one friend who had one too many, too friggin’ early, and tonight it was Jimi’s turn. Completely harmless, but utterly annoying, and touchy-feely when he drank, he ignored her comment, staggering lightly. “Let me buy you another drink, fam. We’re came here to see Snoh, and your ass is sober?” And of course, the other motherfuckers that surrounded had to affirm his slurred words, urging her, ‘get another one; it’s on his dime.’ She huffed at the dramatics of her friends, she was certainly not sober, but she snatched his credit card out of his hand anyway and he winked at her. This earned brief eye-roll and she was off, away from her toxic little group of friends.

The bar on the opposite side of the room glowed like a beacon of hope as she made her way there, shuffling through pockets of people focused on the opening acts. She ignored a few stares to push her way to the counter, determined to get her drink before Snoh came on. She snickered when they asked if she wanted to open a tab, and obliged- Jimi’s karma for earlier. She waited for her drink, elbows propped on the counter, and she stared around the club, which to no surprise was getting packed out as the lady of the hour was about to come on soon.

It was the feeling of a warm hand gripping on her upper shoulder, close to the nape of her neck, that made her jump, and she turned, face already fixed and ready to give whoever the fuck it was touching her a good dose of her mind. Expecting to see one of her boys- she felt her heart lurch down into her pit of her tummy, realizing who the firm grip belonged to.

Alexander grinned at her, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. He looked good, as per usual, sporting a white linen shirt, and crisp dark denim. He leaned himself nimbly on the bar, his body flush next to hers, pressing comfortably. He smelt like whiskey, and tobacco and she inhaled his familiar scent unintentionally, which only gave her more butterflies in the very low part of her stomach. Even leaning, he still loomed over her, nearly casting a shadow, from being so giant. “What are the odds?” he asked with a simple, mischievous smile. She got a hint of the freshness that masked his breath, like he was sucking on a mint just before approaching her.

Muscles stiffened, moisture seeping through her pores, she could gag at her luck right now. She wanted to clutch her pearls and scream, but the liquor running through her calmed her nerves, a bit. The bartender slid the jack and coke her way, right on time, and Alexander’s face was turned away from the counter, focused in on completely her. She nodded a thanks for the beverage, buying herself a few seconds, before turning her head towards the Swede, pressing back comfortably against his side. They were shoulder to shoulder, or, body to body, in a sense, because she was too short to be perfectly aligned with his shoulders. “Are you following me, now, Skarsgard?” she said trying to mask the happiness she felt creeping all over her face, eyes slightly glazed over as she gazed back at him. He laughed, his cheeks covered in blush from smiling so hard. “Nahh,” he said in a casual tone, then he added a goofy little, ��..Maybe,” tilting his head with a little shrug, jokingly. The close proximity of his face next to hers made the club feel so much smaller, and it was already quite intimate on it’s own.

For a brief moment she wondered if this was even real, or if someone had dropped something in her drink earlier, because it was so wildly random. “Are you really here, right now?” she questioned, narrowing her eyes and bringing the tip of her finger to to the bridge of his nose. She lightly glided her small finger down, wiping away the moisture that had accumulated, a smile creeping over her lips that traveled all the way up to her eyes, the same thing mirroring in his his. He chuckled, but went quiet at her touch, the blush in his cheeks burning brighter now. “I didn’t know you were into Snoh.” she said, her chest tight and heaving lightly. There was a hell of a lot more things that she didn’t know about the man, so it was a comical thing to say, but he just nodded, that small smile still playing on his lips. “She’s good,” he admitted earnestly, “And I’m here with people. My best friend Dada, he’s here. And a few others.” He paused briefly, his eyes traveling down her face, falling on her lips before going back up to her eyes. She took a long sip from her straw, her nerves shot under his gaze, heat crawling all over her skin from it. “Are...you here...with people..?” he started, wetting his lips. His voice was gentle, anxious, a little softer. She touched his arm instantly, a slightly alarmed look taking over he face as she nodded, a little too eager to reassure him that she was not here on a date of any kind, His eyes instantly softened, eyebrows that were knitted together, finally relaxing. Truth was...lately, that was reserved for him.

Gaze casted down and fingers intertwined so they wouldn’t lose each other, he led her back to his section at the very top level of the club. He was stealing her away from her friends, but she felt eager to be whisked away. She always had butterflies around him, but this scene was different, the dimly lit, crowded club, the music that was swallowing up the room, the buzz of it all. Alexander introduced her to everyone, and he was unable to hide his delight as he did so. Dada wrapped her into a huge, bear hug, and she fluffed his golden locks. “Heard a few things about you from this one,” he said with a goofy little wink, beckoning towards Alex. Before she could question him any further, Alexander was pulling her away and wrapping her up in his arms, groaning at his friend. “Snoh’s on.” he muttered in her ear, and she shivered from his breath on her neck. The lights turned a delicious hazy, rosy color, dimmed a few notches, and the goddess herself was on the stage, belting out the most gorgeous melodies. She sounded even more magical live, which was so satisfying. Ugh. Those feels again, right, Snoh?

‘It's not that I don't want you here. It's somethin' 'bout the way you stare into my eyes.’

Snoh pulled everyone in, but she felt captivated by her steady, smooth voice, and her statuesque frame, and of course- her beauty. She was in a bit of a trace from her, sort of stuck, and jumped a little when Alexander wrapped his arms around her small waist. His large frame came flush with her body from behind, rigid chest pressed sturdily against her back, and she instantly settled into the cozy embrace. She felt her tension fading, from being against him, but nerves still beamed in the depths of her tummy. She just fit in his arms, and he cradled her waist with precision and care, she could swear she felt a territorial vibe from the way he held onto her, shielding her from the rest of the group. He tucked his head near her ear, coming real close. “You good?” His voice was a low murmur in her ear, and she felt her intimacy twitch, but she just nodded, affirming that his touch was absolutely perfect.

She would genuinely be upset if he let go, and she raised her drink to his lips, and he took a small sip from behind her. They swayed gently to the soft songs, finding their rhythm, adjusting every now and again, and it didn’t take long for her nerves to melt away entirely. It was natural and seamless being with him, and the moment was to be enjoyed without restraint. “She’s perfect,” she murmured to him, convinced the woman on the stage was some form of angel. Alexander chuckled lightly and nodded, but it was brief. “This is perfect.” he challenged into her ear, nuzzling into her hair. “Being here with you. This is going to be hard to beat.” She had to pause, to mull over the fact that she was completely fucked, charmed under whatever...Swedish magic he sprinkled on her. And, he told no lies, the moment would be hard to beat, the soft light, the ambiance, the way Snoh was serenading them with her sweet, melodies. She turned her head towards his face, leaving a soft, lingering open mouthed kiss on his lips, squeezing tightly on his hands wrapped around her waist. He breathed her in, hungry for her, tightening that grip on her waist. She had to stop herself from squeezing her legs shut completely when she felt his soft tongue touch hers, and she felt herself getting flustered, blushing all over. This was bliss- pure, serendipitous, bliss.

‘Come through, I think I need you here.’

#alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander tings #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard fan fic #alexander skarsgard drabbles #askarsgard imagine #askarsgard drabble #askarsgard x reader #skarsgard fan fic

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is0gild · 4 years ago

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Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 23

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 11,552

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Sorry, did I miss a point back there where my car transformed into a submarine to cross the Atlantic Ocean?"

I turned my head towards Lea, knitting my eyebrows together. "Pardon?"

"Well I just don't see how else we would have ended up at freaking Buckingham Palace," he muttered, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while the other tipped his aviators forward for a better look at the mansion at the end of the long, extravagant driveway he was currently cruising his car down. He gave a low whistle, "Shit, all it's missing are those dudes in the highschool band uniforms and big fuzzy hats."

Rolling my eyes, I snorted softly. "Oh come now, it's not that big."

He scoffed, "'Not that big' is something girlfriends say about their exes to protect their insecure boyfriends' fragile male egos. It's not what you say about the Taj Ma-fucking-hal here."

The dreaded weekend was upon us at last.

You know. The Weekend. Capital T, capital W.

Aka, the visit with my parents.

Operation Boyfriend But Shh Not Really was about to be tested to the extreme limits.

The chateau in question (maybe villa would be a better word? Or manor, perhaps? Really, it wasn't big at all, Lea was just exaggerating) belonged to my parents. This was the home I'd grown up in. It was weird coming back here now after all that had happened. Was still in the process happening, I suppose. My fingers fidgeted with my braid as the mansion loomed ever higher the closer we got.

Actually… now that we were more up close and I was really seeing it again… oh gosh, it was rather enormous, wasn't it?

...had it somehow grown in size since last I-?

Shush, now, don't be ridiculous. That was just the anxiety talking.

Of which I was in no short supply of. I still had no clue what was in store for this weekend. Anna seemed almost just as much in the dark as I was, which was strange seeing as how she still lived here. Then again, I was pretty sure she'd been spending a lot less time around home lately in favor of staying over at her new boyfriend's place. A man I still surprisingly knew absolute zilch about, but I was hoping Anna had invited him to join us for this weekend as well. That way, I'd get to meet him and maybe even have a little of the attention taken off me. Long shot, I know, considering he was only Anna's still relatively new beau whereas I'd skipped out on my own wedding and shamed my whole family (apparently), so this guy was kind of small potatoes by comparison. But hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

It was actually Friday evening right now, so we were going to be in for more of a long weekend - in every sense of the word. Lea and I had both worked early shifts today before going to our respective homes, getting changed, packing bags for staying over for two nights and then finally heading up. Not knowing what this weekend was going to entail was wreaking no small amount of havoc on my nerves. That said, it could have been worse. Pretty sure I'd actually been more nervous for the audition a couple days ago than I was for this. Maybe that was because the audition had just been so last minute, whereas I'd been preparing for this little get-together for a couple weeks now. Even I had to admit that Lea and I made a pretty convincing couple at this point. Sure, I still got a bit awkward with PDAs, but I was no longer anywhere near as bad as I had been the day I'd seen father at my old condo.

...then again, doing the whole relationship act around the mall for the past couple weeks was one thing. Trying to pull off the same charade in front of my parents now, not to mention the Duke as well? Probably was going to be a lot more complicated.

I really had no idea what was going to happen the moment we passed through those ornate double doors leading into my parent's home.

But I was about to find out.

Whether I liked it or not.

"Alright, we made it," Lea announced as he parked the car next to the big fountain in the middle of the circle driveway, shutting off his engine. He shot me a grin, "You ready for this, my lil sötnos?"

I blinked over at him, then narrowed my eyes. "Do I even want to know?"

"It's a Swedish term of endearment. Its literal translation is sweet nose. And if yours ain't the sweetest, I dunno what is," his grin twitched wider as he reached over to tweak said nose.

"Sweet n-" I groaned, swatting his hand away. "Veto."

"Aw c'mon, I thought that one was cute!" he gave a little whine. I just drooped my eyelids at him and he sighed, stretching over to open his glove compartment and pull a black marker from it. "Guess America's just not ready for the sweet nose," he grumbled, pulling the cap off with his teeth and marking something off on his palm.

I frowned. "...what are you doing?"

"Regrettably giving up on what is arguably the greatest pet name of all time, that's what."

"No, I meant with your hand." I snatched his in both mine, yanking it over in front of my face to discover a small list written on the inside of his palm, located at the top of which was sötnos with a line struck through it. "...are these... more terms of endearment for me?"

He smirked as he leaned in closer to stare down at his palm alongside me. "Yup! Since the big weekend's here, figured I'd best come prepared. This is important stuff we gotta nail down!"

I squinted at the words before me, reading, "Kruzynko…?"

"It means breadcrumb."

Scrunching up my nose, I stole the marker from him and crossed that one off. "No. Bogárkám?"

"My little bug," Lea supplied, sounding more confident in this one.

A snerk. "Nope," I popped the P. And another one bites the dust. My tongue tripped uncertainly over the next one, "Blodyn tatws?"

"Heh… potato flowers?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh wow, I love that one."

He perked up, "Really?"

"Absolutely... not," I said flatly, looking him dead in the eye as I drew a line across it as well.

"Aw man, not cool!" He pouted, then pursed his lips to one side. "Hey, is now really the best time to be doing this? We, uh…" he chuckled sheepishly, holding up his second hand to reveal a whole other list scrawled on that one too, "...might end up being here all day."

I stared blankly at him. "Just how many more of those do you have?"

"I'd show ya, but that'd require me going a lil more half monty than you'd probably prefer I'd get in your parent's driveway."

My brow furrowed and I leaned away slightly, eyeing him up and down. "...where…?"

He waggled his eyebrows at me, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

I let his hand drop from my grasp, "I'm good, thanks." As he snickered, I looked away, rubbing my fingertips over one of my (now brought to a low simmer) cheeks. "Can't you just stick to El? It's simple. Nice… I like El."

"You do?" I heard him ask and I directed a furtive sideways glance in his direction. A slow smile was curling his lips, "Alright… El it is." But then he was peeking down at his palm again. "...and also krúttið mitt."

Biting back a grin, I swat his shoulder. "How would you like it if I kept calling you some weird pet name in a foreign language all the time?"

Lea beamed, "I'd like it very much actually."

"Really? Fine," I took up his hand again, scrutinizing his palm, "...mo chuisle it is then."

His eyes lit up, "Ooo, that one's spicy!"

Oh dear, why had I thought this was a good idea again?

"...what's it mean?"

He bent towards me, eyes hooded as he purred, "You just called me your pulse."

I've made a grave error this day.

"Ah-ah!" he chirped, pressing a finger to my lips as they began to part. "Too late! No take-backsies!"

I huffed, unbuckled my seatbelt and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind me.

Lea looked far too smug as he climbed out himself, retrieving both our bags from the backseat of the car on his way out and slinging them over his shoulder. He removed his aviators, hooking them into the collar of his black, fitted v-neck shirt as his eyes took in the mansion before us once again. He'd reclaimed his leather jacket to wear for this, accompanied by snug jeans tastefully ripped at just one knee and a pair a black, heavy, steel-toed boots. He'd blinged out a bit as well, sporting a small sun medallion that hung from a chain down to his mid-chest, along a few strappy leather bracelets and a couple of rings decorating his fingers. His winged guyliner was somehow even darker and bolder than usual and his hair had been pulled back into a half-tail.

Not going to lie, my traitorous fingers practically itched to pet that little red tuft at the back of his head.

Instead, I settled for fussing with the necklace that rested against my skin just above my collarbone. The pendant was formed of three blue, almond-shaped gemstones gathered together at one point. A present from Rayne to wish me luck on this trip. I was a much bigger fan of her good luck charm than I had been of the one Lea had "gifted" me with for the musical tryouts. I wore the small charm with a classic little wrap dress in a soft lilac. Off the shoulder of course - it was me we were talking about here, so you can probably guess it before I even say it at this point - and with the hem of the skirt flaring out around the knees.

Needless to say, looking at him and me side-by-side right now, it was clear one of us was either severely over or underdressed. Considering it was my parents' door we were about to knock on, one guess as to who was what.

"Try not to scratch the paint, chief!" Lea chipperly called out as he was suddenly tossing his keys at one of the staff under my parents' employ who just so happened to be walking past us in that second.

Eyes widening, the man fumbled to catch them. As Lea turned to head towards the front door, I followed, quirking my eyebrow at him. "What was that?"

"I'm blending in," he flashed a cheeky smile, shoving a hand into one pocket of his jacket. "Whatcha think, do I sound like a rich asshole or what?"

I tipped my head to one side. "...actually, you kind of sounded like my ex."

A snort escaped through his nose. "I'll take that as a yes then."

We walked a couple steps in silence. Then, "That wasn't a valet, by the way."

He froze midstep, looking at me sharply. "What?"

"That was a gardener. My parents don't even have a valet."

"Oh." Lea glanced back over his shoulder, frowning. "...maybe I should go get my keys back then."

I hid a small grin behind my fingers. "Maybe you should."

Waiting politely, I watched him jog back towards the worker to do just that, along with offering what looked to be quite the humble apology. "Got 'em!" he declared once he'd rejoined me, flinging them up into the air before catching them again to slip into his pocket. "So even a proper gent like your old man feels the need to prove what a hot, young stud he still is, eh? Wouldn't of thought him the type."

"What?" I blinked a couple times. Where'd that come from?

He tossed his chin back towards his vehicle. More specifically, at the few other cars he'd parked next to. "I recognize Anna's Porsche over there, but that blue Ferrari reeks of midlife crisis."

"...that's my car." Then I grimaced and amended, "Rather, was my car."

"Huh?" he looked taken aback. "You drive? Since when?"

I gave a small shrug, "Since always."

"Then why're you always having me n' your roomies chauffeur you around? Not that I mind..."

"I don't have a car or the funds to purchase one." He wordlessly jerked his thumb back towards the Ferrari, face blank. I sighed, "My parents bought me that. It didn't feel right keeping it after… everything. Not with me trying to separate myself from them and make it on my own. No, I plan to buy my own once I've saved up enough."

"Shit, still shoulda kept it," Lea said and I gave him a dull look. He hastily waved a hand in front of him, "Even if ya didn't want it, you coulda sold it and made bank before giving all that munny away to charity. Ya know, just so you could really stick it to your folks."

Shaking my head with a soft chuckle, I started walking towards the entrance again. "Let's just get on with this."

"Aye aye, Capitaine," he gave me a two-fingered salute, catching up to me with his long strides.

Feeling my chest start to constrict as we drew nearer to those doors, I blew out a soft, slow breath. "I hope we're not late. I shouldn't have let you talk me into that salon visit after we got off work."

"What, you needed something to help ya relax and a quick spa day was just the ticket! 'Sides, I wanted to make myself all pretty for this! Whaddya think?" He stretched his arm out before us both, fingers wiggling to show off his fresh coat of black nail polish. "If this doesn't impress your folks and tell 'em what a man of sophisticated tastes I am, I dunno what will!"

I snorted. "I think my father is more of a mauve man himself."

"Really? Crap, you shoulda said something! I'd have asked for a matching color so he and I could be twinsies! Shucks," he snapped his fingers, "missed opportunity."

Coming to a stop on the doorstep, I reached for the bell, but my fingers hesitated.

This was so strange. I'd lived here. Spent my childhood here. I'd never had to use the doorbell before.

...why did the idea of doing so now seem so hard?

A sudden warmth enveloped my other hand. I looked down to discover Lea was holding it. He gave it a small squeeze as he said softly, "Hey. Whatever happens in there, just know I'm here for you."

I felt a small stutter in my chest as a tiny smile tugged at my lips. "...thank you," I murmured, squeezing back before looking to the doorbell once more. Taking a deep, calming breath, I pushed the button at last and a heavy chime could be heard within.

While we waited, a glimmer of something at Lea's waist caught my eye and I turned to see what it was. A crease formed between my eyebrows. "...is that… a wallet chain?"

How had I missed that thing until now?

"Hm?" he followed my gaze. "Oh! Yup! Heh, thought it might really pull the whole look together! Do I look like a punkass bad boy now or what?"

"Or what," I fixed him with a deadpan stare. "You look ridiculous."

He splayed a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Rude. Can't believe you'd talk to your pulse like that."

Face warming, I hung my head. "...I'm never going to hear the end of that, am I?"

"Nope!" he grinned wickedly.

"Would you just take that silly thing off?"

"No can do, sweetcheeks! Boys like to accessorize too, ya know," he sniggered, giving the chain a little twirl. "Just be grateful I left the spiked choker in the glove compartment."

"Spi-?!" I spluttered over the word before managing a scoff and crossing my arms. "Oh, trust me, I am. The point is to get my parents to back off, not to send them into cardiac arrest!"

...huh… Lea in a spiked choker…

"You're trynta imagine what I'd look like wearing it now, aren't ya?" he'd hunched down beside me to whisper into my ear with a smirk.

My cheeks burned so hot, you could have roasted marshmallows on the damn things.

"...am not."

I was almost grateful when the door swung open just then. And also a little surprised, because the face that greeted me wasn't that of my parents' house maid Gerda.

No, instead it was that of a pale, wide-eyed, huffing and puffing Anna.

(With Gerda right behind her, looking quite harried and put out by the fact that my sister had stolen her job.)

"Elsa!" she cried out in relief. "Finally! What took you so long?!"

Furrowing my brow, I began, "Anna? What-?"

"No time! Get." She lunged towards me. "In here." Her hands seized my shoulders. "Now!" I was forcibly yanked inside.

I heard the door booming shut behind me and could only hope that Lea had managed to slip in himself in time as well. Gripping my sister's arms, I tried again, "What's going on? We couldn't be more than a few minutes la-"

Her hand suddenly shot out to squeeze my cheeks together between her thumb and fingers, squishing my face and effectively silencing me. "Shush! No talkie! Only listen! Oh, it's bad, Sis. Really, really bad! It's him! He's here! Like, here here! Right friggin' now!"

"Who's here?" I asked, tugging my face free of her vice-like grip and working my jaw. I knit my eyebrows together at Gerda, who was frantically circling us as she kept trying and failing to get a word in edgewise. "The Duke? I already knew-"

"No! Not the Duke! Of course not, he won't be here until tomorrow! Gah! You know, Sis, sometimes you can be really-" Anna cut herself off in a tiny snarl, fingers curling in front of her to strangle empty air. "Ugh! Anyway, it's- I didn't- It was just- Out of nowhere- Mom and Dad, they- He- His-"

"I think she's trying to tell us something. What is it, Lassie? Timmy trapped in the well again?" Lea snerked as he let our luggage fall to the foyer floor beside his boots.

Ignoring him, I gently rubbed my hands up and down Anna's arms. "Breathe. Calm down. Take a minute to gather your thoughts."

"People!" she suddenly blurted out, startling me a bit. "Lots of them! Loads of them! So many people!"

I frowned. "People? Where? You mean here, now?"

She shook her head rapidly, "No, no, no, no! Not now people! Future people! Tomorrow people! And… and caterers! And musicians! And decorators and, and, and him! He's- Right now, he's- just down the hall, he's- he's-"

"Who, Anna? Who?" I insisted.

Her hands violently shook me, "Him!"

Right. Thanks, Sis. Big help you are.

Why was she like this?

The maid finally managed to pipe in, "What Miss is trying to tell you is that your-"

"Got it, Gerda, thanks!" Anna huffed out with a tiny scowl. Then she took in a deep breath, preparing to say something.

"Crap, I think that dude just robbed us," Lea chimed in first.

Holding a finger up to Anna, I whipped my head around to see what he was talking about: an older gentleman in a black suit walking briskly away with our bags. "Oh, that's just Kai."

Lea cocked an eyebrow at me, "The robber's name is Kai?"

"No, the butler's name is Kai."

"Why would the butler rob us?"

"He's not robbing us, he's just taking our things up to our room." I blanched. "Rooms." Plural. As in more than one. My parents would never, not in a million years, have put Lea and me in the same room under their roof… right? Oh gosh, why was the possibility only just now occurring to me? "He's, uh… he's p-putting them where we'll be staying. Separately. As in, not together. Completely and one hundred percent apart," I (overly) clarified, fighting that blush I felt creeping up my neck now.

Anna suddenly grabbed my head with both hands and forced me to look at her again, grounding out through her teeth, "You're. Not. Listening to me!" Then with a grumbling sigh, she snagged my hand in hers and started dragging me down one of the many corridors that branched off from the foyer. "Come on, we better hurry, they're probably wondering what's taking so long."

Gerda squeaked and scurried after us. "Right this way, please, and I'll see you to the Marigold Room where your hosts await your presence!" she awkwardly trilled, trying to maintain some semblance of performing her duties despite Anna's continued interference.

A whistle from Lea confirmed he was following as well. "Lemme guess. The Duke in the conservatory with the candlestick."

"Wha-?" my voice faltered as my feet tripped trying keep up with Anna, only barely managing to keep myself upright.

He grinned down at me as he strode along, shrugging. "This whole place is a legit, life-sized Clue board. Just trynta play the game here."

I stumbled again. "Ow, Anna! Not so hard. What is the rush?"

Not slowing down, she glanced back at me over her shoulder. "Come on, Elsa, think! What day is it?"

"Uh…" Was this a trick question? "...Friday?"

A low, agitated noise emitted from her throat. "No, what day?"

I squinted up at the ceiling in thought. "...the seventh?"

"Yes!" she spun around to tap her nose excitedly, her feet still moving backwards. "Which would make tomorrow…?"

"The eighth." Lost by this line of questioning? I know I was.

"Of?" she pressed. "What month, Elsa?"

"The eighth of… oh!" It finally clicked and I staggered again, my eyes growing round. "...oh no. It's his birthday. Oh gosh, he's here?! Right now?!"

"Yes! Finally! Thank you!" Anna cried out in exasperation.

"Who?" Lea asked, both eyebrows shooting up his forehead at my sudden change of attitude.

"It's-" I began, but that one word was all I got out before Anna took a sudden sharp turn, yanking me into the Marigold Room with her and bringing us face to face with-

"Grandfather!" I breathed, feet faltering as Anna brought us both to a sudden and jerky stop before him.

He cut an imposing figure, my grandfather. Tall, like father, and with the same red hair too that had been passed down to Anna. His however bore prominent streaks of grey at his temples - really the only sign of him getting on in years as he otherwise looked remarkably good for a man of his age. Still fit as a fiddle, barrel-chested, with a strong, square jaw and a sharp, piercing gaze.

A gaze that was so cold right now that I didn't know how I wasn't frozen into solid ice on the spot.

Anna had been wrong.

This wasn't bad.

This was catastrophic.

Because my grandfather? Not exactly the nicest person. Remember what my father had been like? Well, just think - he'd had to learn it from somewhere. And next to Grandfather, my father seemed warm and cuddly. Like sunshine and rainbows. Heck, Father was as friggin' teletubby by comparison to the man who'd raised him. Grandfather was cut from the same cloth as his brother, the Duke. The epitome of old fashioned and proper etiquette. The thing was, where the Duke was all bluster and tantrums, Grandfather just got quiet when he was angry. Like... really, really quiet. An ominous kind of quiet. A bone-chilling kind of quiet. Whenever Grandfather stopped talking, that's when I really got scared of the man.

No, scratch that. That was when I got petrified of the man.

So the fact that he was just staring down his nose at me right now, eyes narrowed, lips set into a grim, disapproving line, and not uttering a single word? Would have been enough to turn my hair stark white if it weren't pretty damn close already.

And to make matters worse? Mother and Father stood not five feet behind him looking rather unamused with me themselves.

Oh gosh, this wasn't going to be some pleasant, little family gathering.

This was going to be an execution. Mine, to be exact.

Gerda suddenly appeared off to one side, panting to catch her breath and making a hasty curtsy towards my parents and grandfather before announcing, "Elsa and her guest have arrived."

...thanks, Gerda. I think they figured that out already.

I watched as she turned and hurried to make her exit before reluctantly returning my gaze to Grandfather. Still, he said nothing. Just arched one bushy eyebrow at me and waited.

Oh fudge, he wanted me to be the first one to speak? Where do I even begin? What do I even say? Could I even talk right now? I don't think I could, not with how heavy my tongue suddenly felt, like it had turned into solid lead. What was I supposed to do here? How-

Suddenly, I felt it. A hand. Lea's hand, slipping across the small of my back and coming to rest on my hip, pulling me gently into his side. "Aren'tcha gonna introduce me, babe?" he asked, voice low and sugary-sweet as he grinned and pressed a kiss to my temple.

Grandfather's thick mustache gave a little twitch.

That's all it took for me to know. Not thirty seconds into this and there was absolutely zero doubt in my mind.

Before this weekend was out, Grandfather was going to murder Lea.

Inhaling and exhaling, I wrung my hands together and somehow figured out how to do this thing called 'talking' once again. "F-Father, you've already had the, uh… the pleasure, but Grandfather, Mother… this… this is…" I screwed my eyes shut, trying to steel myself.

Come on, Elsa, you can do this. Just one word. Just one measly, little word.

"This is my boooooo-" What was this? What was I doing here? "-oooooooooooooooo-" Why was I stretching the syllable out so friggin' long? What, had I gotten stuck? "-oooooooooooooo-" Dear god, how was there this much oxygen in my lungs? "-oooooooooo-" I didn't think there was even this much oxygen on the whole planet, much less inside my lungs. "-oooyyyyyyy-" Oh good. Progress. At this rate, I'd complete the word sometime this century. "-yyyyyyyyy-"

Anna, my divine saviour and blessed angel of mercy, jabbed her elbow into my gut.

"-friend!" I finished at last with a cough. "Boyfriend. This is my...my boyfriend. Yes. This is he. He is this." A beat. Then, "Lea! By the way. His name, that is. Yup. Lea the Boyfriend. My boyfriend. That's right, Lea is my boyfriend. My boyfriend is-"

"I think they get it, Sis," Anna hissed quietly out of the corner of her plastered-on smile.

Gee, I was getting so good at this whole lying thing, wasn't I?

"Pleased to meet ya, Gramps," Lea stretched out a hand towards him.

Grandfather didn't take it. Instead, he just stared long and hard at it. At the black nail polish and rings adorning it. Finally, he lifted his chin with a sniff and straightened his already ramrod posture even further. "That'll be Sir to you, young man."

"Oo, how formal. Whatever you say," he retracted his hand with a smirk, "Sir Gramps."

This had been a mistake, using Lea as my rent-a-boyfriend.

Actually… no, mistake would be an understatement. This was a powder keg and Lea was a goddamn burning match.

Pushing past my now rigidly stiff grandfather, Lea approached my parents next. "Pops, always a pleasure. Ma'am," he took my mother's hand in his to politely press his lips to the back of it, "lovely to make your acquaintance."

She looked slightly taken aback, blue eyes widening. However, Mother recovered quickly, delicately plucking her fingers from his grip to smooth at the tight bun her brown hair was currently up in before primly folding her hands together just below her waist. When she smiled, it was gracious but tight. "As it is yours," there was a briefest of pauses before she tacked on a hesitant, "Lea. Please, take a seat. Dinner should be ready shortly, but would anyone like a drink prepared while we wait?"

I was relieved to hear Lea answer with, "I'm good, thanks." Because a return of Wine Tipsy Lea was by far the very last thing this situation needed right now. As I declined as well, a quick look around brought to my attention the fact that we were the only two not partaking as it seemed the others had already started before we'd gotten here. Mother and Father were sipping at what looked to be some sort of dark red cabernet, while Anna retrieved her own glass and moved towards the mini bar to refill it - most likely with something sweet, fruity and potent enough to bring down an elephant, knowing her. On the low table around which all the seats gathered was a sturdy glass full of ice and an amber liquid. Probably Grandfather's. Probably bourbon.

I shifted over towards the sofa opposite the table from my parents and all three of us took a seat at the same time. Lea joined me soon after, slipping his arm around my shoulders as he flumped down into the cushions beside me. Grandfather, however, hadn't budged from where he stood since we'd entered the room. Not one inch. "Father," was all my father said to him - partially warning, partially pleading.

Grandfather's mustache twitched again and his left eye ticked. But then he moved to sit down in the armchair in front of the bourbon, snatching up the glass and sullenly nursing it.

Dear lord, this was a nightmare. No, this was Hell. That had to be it - I'd died and was now in my own little corner of the Underworld specifically designed and crafted to torture me in the cruelest way possible. I could already feel the stress burning an ulcer into my stomach and no amount of Lea's fingers lightly trailing up and down my arm would calm me down.

There was no point in putting it off, right? I should just do it now. Bring up the thing that was on all of our minds but no one was talking about. You know, the thing. The wedding thing… or rather, the whole lack of the wedding thing. I should just get this over with. Rip the bandaid off. Getting it all out in the open now had to be better than this. Anything had to be better than this… right?

Hands fidgeting furiously in my lap and this close to dislocating a finger, I licked my dry lips and managed to find my voice. "Perhaps now… we should discuss what exactly h-happened on… on my-"

"That is a topic that would be best saved for later," Father talked over me, his stern voice cutting me off. "Let us speak of other things right now."

My head rocked back at that, my forehead wrinkling. I flicked my gaze over to Grandfather briefly - who was still stewing quietly over his drink - then back to my parents. "But I thought-"

"Now's not the time, Elsa," Mother insisted firmly. "This is not a discussion that will be brief, nor will it be suitable to have over dinner. Besides, your father and I will have our hands full preparing for the party tomorrow evening, so this is a conversation that will just have to wait until the day after."

A frown tugged at my lips. "You're hosting a party?"

"For Grandfather's birthday," Anna plopped down onto the sofa beside me, freshened drink in hand. "Since, ya know, it's such a huge one. The big seven-oh. The whole family is going to be there to celebrate. And I mean, the whole family," she shot me a pointed look over the rim of her glass as she took a swig.

Oh. So that's what she'd meant earlier by "tomorrow people."

Why couldn't she have been this articulate when she'd greeted me at the door?

Mother added, "You are, of course, invited to attend the celebration as well, Lea. I know Father would be thrilled for you to join us."

Uh-huh. Sure. Grandfather looked positively pleased as punch over there at the very prospect.

"Sounds like a blast, count me in," Lea grinned.

Alright so… the birthday soirée would be tomorrow, then The Talk™ would be the day after. Roughly two days… forty-eight hours of waiting and worrying and dreading and- oh dear, I had to wonder what the world record for longest sustained panic attack might be. Start the timer, I was about to shatter that sucker.

A hush fell over the room, with the only sound coming from the clinking of the ice in Grandfather's drink accompanied by the ticking of the ancient but well-kept longcase clock in the corner. The ticking seemed to get louder with each passing second.

After one painfully long minute, Mother was finally the one to break the silence. "So Lea," she began, her eyes intent on him, "please… tell us a little about yourself."

"Where to even begin? Lessee here." Uh oh. I didn't like that little gleam he had in his eye as he rubbed a curled finger over his chin. "Well, I guess ya could say I had the kinda childhood every lil tyke dreams about: full of joy and love and the foster system." It was probably a good thing I hadn't gotten a drink because I'd probably be choking on it right now just like my parents were with theirs. "But I mean, with a druggie dad who bought the farm and a druggie mom who split outta my life first chance she got, where else was I s'posed to go?

"As for the rest after that, let's just give ya the highlights." Now he started ticking off his fingers, "College dropout. Ride a motorcycle. In a hardcore death metal band. Smoke ten packs a day." For the love of… he did remember the part about not giving my parents a heart attack, right? "Just got my thirty-day chip from AA - hey, fifth times a charm, right? Oh, I'm also a wanted felon in three different states. Wait…" he squinted one eye, pursing his lips to the left, "...make that four. Always forget about Connecticut. Which reminds me, I need to check in with my parole officer."

"He's joking!" I said quickly with a tiny, nervous laugh.

"Or am I?" he leaned forward in his seat to whisper conspiratorially, eyebrows bouncing. I pinched his arm, forcing a soft tch from him. "But let's not forget the most important thing ya need to know about me: how completely," he kissed my pinky, "and totally," another one for my ring finger, "head over heels," three more, one for each word and each remaining finger, "I am for your daughter."

Alright, you need to cool your jets, cheeks. This was all just part of the show, after all.

A show that was possibly being performed a bit too well. Grandfather's knuckles had gone so white around his glass, I was surprised the poor thing hadn't shattered into a million pieces yet.

Lea tapped his index to his lips now, "Hmmm, what else? Oh! Got a pretty cool story about this gnarly scar my half-brother gave me with a-"

"Anna!" I suddenly burst out, turning towards her at the same time I snagged Lea's hand, keeping him from lifting the hem of his shirt. She froze mid-sip, glancing at me out of the corner of her eyes. "What about you? What's new with you? You have that new boyfriend of yours, right? What about him, will he be joining us this weekend?"

Who me? Trying to change the subject? Psh, I would never!

She winced, averting her gaze and lowering her drink as she traced a finger around the rim. "Oh jeez, my…? Well... he, er… he was going to make it for dinner tonight but… something… unfortunately came up! But he should definitely be here in time for the party tomorrow, so… don't worry! Heh… I- oo, little cheeses!" she cried out excitedly as Gerda abruptly appeared once more to place a small platter of hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table. Anna immediately proceeded to stuff her face with them before pointing at her bulging cheeks and shaking her head, signaling she could no longer talk.

A crease formed between my eyebrows.

Huh… was it just me or was Anna acting kind of weird?

Maybe the tension around the room just had us all on edge, even her. Yeah, that was probably all it was.

"And you, Elsa?" Father's cool tone snapped my attention back to him. Each word that followed was slow and measured, as if he were picking them very carefully, "Tell us how you have been keeping yourself occupied during these past several weeks."

"Oh!" I gnawed on my lower lip, my fingers already tugging at my braid before I'd even realized it. "Well, I've… reconnected with an old friend - you remember Rayne from when I went to summer camp? Well she's married now with a baby on the way, can you imagine? And… and I've gotten myself a place to live and have found a job and-"

-and auditioned for a musical.

That was what I'd been about to tell them. However when I tried, the words got caught in my throat.

I knew they'd disapprove. That they'd probably scoff and wonder why I was still wasting my time on such childish, useless things. But it wasn't childish or useless, at least not to me. To me, the audition had been so important, had brought me so much happiness. I didn't want to give my parents the chance to belittle and ridicule it. I didn't want them to take this thing that was so special away from me.

So instead I released my braid and folded my hands in my lap, sitting up a little straighter as I simply said, "...and that's it really."

I could sense Lea's eyes on me. I think he knew what I'd purposely omitted. Thankfully, he kept his mouth shut about it.

"So… Lea…" Grandfather spoke up suddenly, his voice dangerously low and making me flinch. "I hear you're in the…" his lip curled in a slight sneer, "...pizza business? Is that right?"

Smirking back, he slouched a bit more comfortably into his seat. "That's right. I sling dough at a lil pizza joint in the local mall food court. Great place by the name of Pizza Planet… you ever been?"

His jaw clenched ever so slightly. "No, can't say that I have. But this... Pizza Planet," he said it like those were the two most offensive words in the english language, "...is that where you see yourself working for the rest of your life?"

Lea chuckled, his hand batting the air, "Nah, that'd just be silly! No, I won't be selling pizza forever." His mouth curved into a cheshire grin, "Instead I'll be selling ice cream."

"He plans to own his own business, Grandfather," I hastily clarified.

"His own business… selling ice cream," he growled, pointer finger incessantly tapping against his glass now. "And this is how you would plan to provide for and take care of my granddaughter."

"Pardon me, Sir Gramps," there was a hint of an edge to Lea's voice now, despite his unwavering smile, "but I was under the impression that your granddaughter was her own person fully capable of taking care of herself."

You know that chilling, goosebump-inducing, hackles-raising energy you can feel crackling in the air right before a devastating storm strikes and ravages the land?

That was exactly how it felt right now in the space between Grandfather and Lea.

Luckily, Gerda appeared in the nick of time to divert the tempest by announcing, "Dinner is ready!"

"Thank you, Gerda," Mother had stood in the blink of an eye and was already making her way over to Grandfather. "If you would be so kind as to escort me, Father?"

His hard, unblinking gaze was still on Lea and for a second it seemed like he hadn't even heard her. But at last he tore his eyes away with a harrumph and put his drink back down on the table with a sharp, audible clink. "Of course, my dear," he said evenly as he rose from his own chair, offering her his arm and leading her out of the room.

I turned to Anna, but before I could say anything she'd already bolted up and around the table to grab both of Father's hands in hers. "C'mon, Dad! Walk me to dinner too!" she yanked him up, startling a soft grunt out of him as he staggered to his feet. Then she was hooking her arm through his elbow and all but dragging him out of the room with her.

What the…?

...maybe Anna was just super hungry?

"I think that went really well!" Lea chirped, giving me a thumbs up.

I merely drooped my eyelids at him and said nothing.

Later that night found me in my old bedroom. I'd deduced this was where I was expected to sleep, seeing as how this was where Kai had deposited my luggage. As suspected, Lea had been set up in one of the guest rooms further down the hall, so it was just me alone in here now.

It felt odd being back in this room. Just like it'd felt odd returning to my parent's home or going back to my old condo. I don't know, I guess I just didn't feel like I... belonged here anymore. Like I was some piece that everyone else was trying to force into the wrong puzzle, even though my edges didn't fit and the picture didn't match at all.

Sighing, I shifted in my chair to face the mirror on my vanity once more - this one a lot nicer than the one we'd scrounged up for my room back at the apartment I shared with Rayne and Riku, as you might imagine. Having just finished combing out my hair, I set my brush aside and my fingers idly went to work on rebraiding as my thoughts began to wander.

Dinner had ended up just being the sequel to drinks in the Marigold Room. My parents had continued to try and maintain some semblance of being hospitable hosts while keeping up strained conversation. Grandfather had continued to be a seething ball of barely-held-in-check fury and I don't think he'd said more than two words for the rest of the evening. Lea had continued to… well, be Lea. And as for my sister…

I quite honestly had no idea what was going on with her. Maybe it was just my imagination but it seemed every time I'd tried to talk to her, something else had always gotten in the way. Like I'd open my mouth to speak but before I could so much as make a peep, she'd already engaged Mother or Father in some new topic. Or I'd ask her a question only to have her look at me, lips pursed shut against a mouth full of food and shoulders shrugging. There was even one time where all I'd said was her name before she'd accidentally knocked over her drink. At least, I thought it'd been accidental… unless...

Could it be that she was... purposely avoiding talking to me? Had I done something to upset her? I couldn't even begin to think what. Last I'd seen her a week ago, she'd been fine. Everything had been normal between us. What could have possibly changed since?

...maybe I was just reading too much into it. It was probably just a lot of coincidence and poor timing. In fact-

There was a knock at my door just then.

Ha! Bet you that was her now. See? Nothing to worry about, I'd just been overthinking it all. Tying off my completed braid, I rose to answer the door.

And indeed, it was a redhead that I found waiting in the corridor on the other side.

Just not the redhead I'd been expecting.

"Lea?" I frowned, both my eyebrows rising.

He snerked, "Yeesh, don't act too excited to see me."

"What? No, I'm- You're just not who I-" I pressed my lips shut, heaving a small sigh through my nose. "...nevermind. What brings you here?"

"Brought ya something," he grinned and for the first time, I realized he was hiding his hands behind his back. "May I come in?"

My head tipped to the right. "Uh...sure," I opened the door wider, my bare feet stepping off to one side as I absently smoothed at my dress - the same one from dinner. Lea had arrived just before I'd been about to change for bed.

He was still in his earlier clothes as well, though he'd left behind his boots and jacket. I couldn't help but notice he hadn't taken that cute little half-tail out of his hair yet. I also couldn't help but notice the way he carefully managed to keep whatever he had behind him out of sight, even as he walked past me into the room. I closed the door and when I faced him, he hunched down to my eye level, "Ya ready?"

I crossed one hand over my abdomen and gestured with the other for him to continue.

"Ta-da!" he brought one hand forward now, revealing a little black strip lined with sharp, metal points dangling from the clasp pinched between his fingertips.

That's right. It was the spiked collar.

...whatever I'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

My eyes blinked once. Then twice. "...you were serious? You actually have one of those?"

"Course! What, didja think I was lying? I'm offended, madame," he hmphed, putting his free hand to his breast.

I snorted with a roll of my eyes, "Well no, not lying, but more so just joking."

"I never joke about studded leather," he waggled his eyebrows at me.

Nose crinkling, I delicately poked a finger into one of the spikes. "Alright, so why exactly are you showing me this?"

Lea smirked and shrugged. "Your curiosity just seemed so piqued when I mentioned it earlier."

I gave him a flat look. "It was not piqued."

"Keep telling yourself that," he chuckled then paused, eyes crinkling. "...so you wanted to know what it looked like on me, right?"

Cheeks lightly toasted now, I scowled, "I never said-"

He wrapped the thing around his neck, holding it in place with a hand instead of fastening the tiny buckle in back.

Oh.

Oh, I see.

...it was, um… hrm, it was… interesting.

Damn it, face, be cool. That goes double for you, heart! Don't go thinking I can't hear that racket you're making down there!

"Well, I guess that's one mystery solved," was all I said as I glanced away, hand coming up to cover one cheek in a vain attempt to hide the growing blush.

"Glad I could be of service," he murmured as he (mercifully) removed the collar from his throat once more.

"...why do you even own one?" I asked, hesitantly reaching for the accessory now.

He let me take it from him. "Just a relic from my pissed-off, rebellious juvenile delinquent days that I managed to dig up again recently. What a punkass lil poser I was back then, huh?" he hummed a tiny laugh as he looked down at his feet, lightly scuffing one against the carpet.

Intrigued by it now, I turned it over in my hands as he spoke before taking it over to the mirror on my vanity. "I suppose we all try to find different ways to express ourselves when we're young. Just a part of growing up and figuring out who we are," I said distractedly as I watched my reflection bring the choker up to encircle her neck, tilting her head slightly to the left with a thoughtful frown.

"Well I guess that'd make me a-" whatever quip he'd had locked and loaded was forever lost as he made a sudden strangled, choking noise.

I looked over at him sharply, brow furrowing as I lowered the spiked collar once more. "You okay? What happened?"

His fist thumped his chest as he fought for breath, which was making his face red. "N-nothing," he wheezed, rapidly shaking his head. "Just oxygen, man. That shit'll kill ya, am I right? Heh."

I squinted at him dubiously.

Lea was such a weirdo sometimes.

He averted his gaze now, rubbing at the back of his neck. "You, uh… that choker looked good on ya. Like really, really good."

"You think so?" I frowned down at where it rested in my palm before holding it out to him, "I'll just have to take your word for it."

"Keep it," he grinned, pushing my hand back towards me. "Ya never know when you'll need one for an impromptu angry goth phase."

I smiled at that, "I think I'm in the clear. Isn't that more of a teenager thing?"

"Please. Angry goth isn't an age, it's a state of mind."

"If you say so," I snorted, but put the choker down on my vanity. I had to wonder what my parents might say if they ever discovered it in here with the rest of my things.

"So," he piped up once more, pulling my attention back to him, "this is the bedroom that sweet lil El grew up in, huh?"

As I watched Lea take a few steps further in now, it suddenly occurred to me... this was the first time a boy had ever been in my bedroom. And not just any boy - this was my crush.

Wow… it felt so highschool when I put it that way.

To be fair though, this wasn't an experience I'd ever got to have while I was actually in highschool.

Better late than never, I suppose?

I only wish it didn't make me want to squirm so much as his eyes roved over everything in here, from the big, purple, gauzy canopy bed to the embellished, oversized wardrobe and matching dresser set. From the cushy, inset bench beneath a grand window in the unique shape of a triangle to the tall, antique shelves of neatly arranged novels and DVD cases of old musicals and plays. From the small sitting area in one corner furnished with plush red chairs to the vintage Broadway posters hanging from the walls in expensive frames.

The room was not small by any means, but him being in it somehow seemed to make it shrink. Like here was this big guy that had somehow found his way into a cutesy little dollhouse room. The comparison did not make me want to fidget any less.

Trying to take my mind off it, I began, "So… earlier at drinks and dinner, did you really have to be so…" I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to find the right word. "...just so, ah…"

"So much of a grade-A jackass?" he suggested brightly. Not exactly the word I would have used, but still, I gave a slow nod and he laughed. "Remember, the whole point was for me to be a total hooligan so they didn't just think me some pushover they could boss around or scare off. Think they got that message loud and clear. 'Sides, pushing every last button of the girlfriend's folks is kinda a hallmark of being a classic bad boy."

My fingers found their way to my braid, running up and down it. "But there's a big difference between pushing a few buttons and having a deathwish."

"Aw, how sweet, you worried about lil ol' me, El?" He paused briefly in his casual perusal of my room to glance my way, flashing me that cursed dimple of his, "I'm so flattered."

I shook my head, "I just think you didn't have to go to such extremes or be quite so-"

"Gotta question for ya," he interjected, coming over to stand in front of me. "Say I had showed up on my very best behavior. The perfect gentleman, minded all my P's and Q's and was just the saintliest boyfriend to ever saint. Do you think your family would be singing my praises right about now?"

My eyes shifted about and I tried weakly, "...well… maybe if-"

"Do you truly, honestly believe that your family would ever accept a white trash lil nobody like me dating their precious princess of a daughter?" he pressed quietly yet firmly.

I tucked in my lower lip, hesitating for a long moment before a tiny grimace twisted my face and I mumbled, "Probably not, no."

Lea gave a little smile that almost seemed a touch sad before he turned away once more, returning his attention to exploring the bedroom. "Thought so. I was screwed the second I so much as dared to breathe the same air as your gramps. So if they're all gonna hate my guts whether I play the part of boy scout or hoodlum, might as well go with door numeros dos and at least have some fun while I'm at it," he chuckled.

"Fine, I see your point," I crossed my arms with a frown. "But still, you might want to tone it back just a smidge. Grandfather has munny and connections. He can seriously make you disappear."

A snerk. "I'd like to see him try. I'm one tough son of a bitch to get rid of," he muttered as he neared my bed now, reaching out a hand to poke some of the draping aside as he peeked in, "Trust me, no one axes me that easily, got it memorized? He's in for one rude awakening if he thinks he can just- gah!" he stumbled back in surprise, blinking a couple times before shifting the canopy again for a second look. "The fuck is that ugly lil bastard?!"

I rushed over, snatching up the stuffed plushie sitting atop my neatly made bed and hugging it close as I glared at Lea. "It's a snowman and shush, he's cute! Cuter than you anyway!"

His horrified gaze darted from me to the doll and back. "Dear god, I hope not!"

Sitting down on my mattress, I spun the little guy around in my lap for a better look at him - it'd probably been at least four-some-odd years since I'd last seen the plush, after all. And okay, sure, I could admit he probably wouldn't be winning any beauty contests any time soon, but give the poor, stuffed snowman a break! I had had him since I was a baby and he had had to endure more than one stitch repair job, especially with what a destructive little toddler Anna had been. Despite all that, I still thought him rather handsome with a unique, quirky charm to him.

Giving Lea a flat look and hitching my chin, I said dryly, "My statement stands."

"Wow, guess it's true what they say, beauty really is in the eye of the beholder," he grumbled, narrowing his gaze on the plushie as I snuggled it close to me once more. But then one corner of his lips quirked up and he bowed down to look me in the eye, tipping his head to one side as he murmured, "Hope I at least rate a close second."

Resident cheeks be advised: flash fire warnings are now in effect.

I held my tongue and just glanced away.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he straightened back up and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So… about that big party tomorrow…"

Thank goodness, a new topic! "What about it?"

Shrugging, Lea said, "Just wanna know what to expect."

My fingers idly stroked at the snowman's head - the fabric still felt soft after all these years, even if it had taken on more of a dull gray color by now as opposed to its original pristine, snowy white. "Well… it'll probably be held in our ballroom-"

"This small palace has a freaking ballroom too?" He shook his head with a snort, "I was kidding before, but this place really is just one big damn Clue board."

Rolling my eyes, I continued, "And it'll probably be packed with all our relatives. Believe me, there are a lot of us on both sides of the family. Acquaintances too. Honestly, it'll most likely all be rather boring. Just a whole lot of mingling, maybe a speech or two, and an over abundance of food accompanied by music."

"Music…" he repeated, frowning up at the ceiling now as one hand went to the nape of his neck, tugging at the little hairs there. "So that mean there'll be dancing? Like… the fancy kind?"

I cocked my head at him. "Are you worried about having to waltz?" Resting my stuffed doll against my pillows, I stood up, "I can teach you if you'd like."

He blinked at me, expression unreadable. Then, "Alright."

I stepped over to stand before him. Now that I got close, I was reminded of just how freakishly tall the man was. My stomach did a little somersault at that and I was already regretting this decision. But it was too late to turn back now. Beating the blush back, locking it up and throwing away the key, I schooled my face into seriousness.

I was going to handle this like a professional, damnit!

"It's fairly simple really, and you've probably seen more than your fair share of it in those sappy movies you like so much. Our hands come together, like this," I joined my right with his left, holding them up to one side. "While your other hand goes…" gingerly taking his wrist in my grasp, I tentatively guided his palm to rest on my hip, hoping the action didn't seem as awkward as it had felt, "...right there." Finally, I settled my left hand on his shoulder and looked up the few inches that separated us.

Big mistake.

Jeez, having eyes as green and beautiful and heart spasm-inducing as his should've been illegal!

And being surrounded by his warm, cinnamony boy scent was not helping matters one bit.

I hastily broke eye contact, opting to look down at our toes instead. Toes are nice. Toes are safe. "It's, uh... it's very easy. You just take steps in the shape of a square. Watch my feet and follow along, I'll go slow. Forward with your left foot first," I took a step back and he moved with me, "then to the side with your right… now bring them together… Good. Then back with your right… out with your left… and together again." I took him through it a few more times without issue. "See? Simple. You're already getting the hang of it."

"I just must have a really good teacher," he said in a low hum.

"At this rate I'll soon be the one following your lead instead of… wait," my forehead wrinkled, "...you are already leading." I looked up at him suspiciously. "Did you already know how to ballroom dance?"

He smiled sheepishly, "Heh… guilty?"

"You brat, why did you tell me you didn't?" I laughed, trying to step away from him.

"I said no such thing," his hand shifted from my hip to the small of my back, not letting me escape. To be fair, I didn't try that hard. "You just assumed I didn't know how. And you know what they say when you assume," he teased as he continued to lead me in our little dance.

I scoffed in spite of the upward tug I felt at one side of my mouth. "Where did you even learn to waltz?"

"My lil secret," Lea winked. "But you know the deal. I'd be willing to give it up for one o' yours."

"You want me to give you a secret?" My eyes darted to the left. "I'm not sure I even have anymore…"

He snerked, pulling me ever so slightly closer to him. "Now I know I don't believe that. You must be able to think of at least one."

...actually yes. There was… at least one more I could think of…

That of certain feelings I was having for a certain redhead.

Sensing a small, familiar heat creeping up into my face, I cleared my throat and shook my head, still not meeting his gaze. "No… no I don't think so. Pretty sure I'm all tapped out."

He dipped his head down next to mine and I could feel him smirking against my ear as he whispered, "You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?"

His warm breath tickled and I had to suppress a shiver. Conceal, don't feel. Don't let him know. I finally looked at him with a small, playful smile that I hoped didn't betray my hammering heart. "Come now… does this look like the face of someone who'd lie to you?"

Lea bit back a tiny, crooked grin as his eyes hooded, his thumb tracing small circles against the fabric of my dress. Then his lips parted, about to speak.

That was when, for the second time that night, a knock came at my door.

That must be Anna. Smile widening as I continued to stare up at Lea, I called out, "Come in."

I heard it open followed by a soft, "Oh!" that caused me to pale and my feet to stumble.

That wasn't the sound of my sister's voice.

My head whipped towards it as I stammered, "M-Mother!" This time when I attempted to break free of Lea's hold, he let me.

She stood there, posture perfect and hands clasped together in front of her. "Sorry, I didn't think you already had company."

"S'okay, I was just leaving," Lea said before pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "Night," he told me, voice low as his fingers tucked some of my hair behind my ears. Apparently, he couldn't just depart without giving me one final whammy of the warm fuzzies. Jerkface. "Ma'am," he nodded to my mother as he walked past her towards my door, closing it behind him on his way out.

My gaze followed his exit before drifting over to my vanity right beside the door.

More specifically, to the spiked collar still resting on top of it.

Fudge. Had I wondered what my parents' reaction would be if they ever discovered it in here? Yes. Did I particularly need to find out the answer to that little question this very night? Hell no!

Luckily Mother hadn't seemed to notice it on her way in and her back was currently to it as she said, "That young man is… quite the character."

Funny. That's what Father had said. Almost verbatim. I wondered if my parents rehearsed these things.

"He, uh…" I sidled past her, putting myself between her and the choker, blocking her line of sight to it. Then I forced an innocent smile and a weak chuckle, "...he makes me happy."

If she thought my movements strange, she was good at hiding it. "And he seems very fond of you."

"Ah… yes, I suppose so." I casually leaned back against the piece of furniture and slipped a hand behind me, discreetly moving the offending item into one of the vanity's small drawers.

Whew! Mission Hide The Goth Contraband was a success!

The small feeling of victory swiftly waned however and I frowned. "Mother, I…" I began, only to find I had no idea what to say to her.

I hadn't had any idea for years now.

It had not always not always been like this. In fact when I'd been very little, I'd felt like I could share anything and everything with her. She'd been my biggest supporter in all things, especially in my love of the performing arts. As I'd always been such a shy child, she'd gone so far as to even encourage the activity, perhaps in the hopes that it would build my confidence and make me more outgoing.

But as I'd grown older, our relationship had changed. She became more aloof and distant. I suspect she and Father had hoped my interest in theater was just a phase, one I'd grow out of eventually. But when it seemed I wasn't going to - not on my own anyway - she'd started taking a sterner approach with me. That's when she stopped being my friend. That's when it became harder to talk to her. And it'd only gotten harder and harder with time. Things were never quite the same between us after that.

She watched me now, patient for me to continue. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I finally settled on, "Why are you here?"

"I would think the answer should be obvious." Her small, gentle smile caught me off guard, but not nearly as much as her now stepping forward to take both my hands in hers. "I wanted a little time alone with my daughter. Away from your father and grandfather... just the two of us."

My breath hitched, my chest constricted, and before I knew it I was blurting out, "I auditioned for a musical."

Her head reeled back slightly and I winced.

Welp. So much for not letting that cat out of the bag.

I swear, mouth, I can't take you anywhere.

Waiting with bated breath, I searched her wide-eyed gaze for any clue as to what she might be thinking. Was she angry? Annoyed? Disappointed? I couldn't tell as her face gave away nothing for several long seconds. Finally though, she tipped her head to one side, "...did it go well?"

I blinked, a crease emerging between my eyebrows. "I, uh… yes, I think it did. But they won't announce casting until next week."

"I see. Well," and here she was smiling again as she leaned in closer to whisper, "we can just keep that our little secret, hm?"

...who was this woman and what had she done with Mother?

I stared at her before slowly nodding. It was all I could do. Words abandoned me at the moment. I hadn't been prepared at all for this.

And I was even less prepared for what came next.

Mother's gaze softened as she brought her hand up, cupping her cool fingers to my cheek. "That must have taken a lot of courage. I'm very proud of you."

My throat tightened and I swallowed past the lump I felt forming in it. I blinked away some tears, my voice hoarse as I somehow managed to get out, "Th-thank you… Mother."

Had I entered some sort of Twilight Zone? If so, I never wanted to leave.

She regarded me kindly for a second more before her expression turned to that of concern. "You look tired. Have you been sleeping well?"

Honestly, I hadn't. The last good night's rest I'd had was the unplanned sleepover in Lea's room. Every night since then was one night closer and closer to this weekend and whatever unspeakable horrors awaited me. Every night had been less and less dreams, replaced by more and more tossing and turning. I'd actually spent all of last night wide awake, just staring up at my ceiling until the sun had at last arisen.

So, naturally, my answer to Mother was, "Yes."

Her quiet tsk said she didn't believe me. "Come here," she turned away, walking towards my bed and lowering herself down onto it. I hugged myself, feet rooted to the spot as I stared after her, bewildered. Sitting back against my pillows and tucking in her legs, her hand patted the spot on the mattress beside her, "Cuddle close, scooch in."

Instantly I was transported back to when I was a little girl. Back to the last time I'd heard her say those words to me. My response was automatic and before I'd realized it, I'd already curled into her side and was resting my head against her shoulder.

She started humming a familiar lullaby. One she had used to sing for me all the time when I was small. It was from my favorite musical, the same one that the song I'd sang in the tryouts had been from.

This was nice. It wouldn't put me to sleep, but still, it was... nice. Comforting. Nostalgic. Her hand was lightly stroking my arm, my hair, my cheek. Then she was trailing the tip of her pinky down the bridge of my nose slowly before bringing it back up to do it again. An old trick she'd used to use to get me to pass out. Cute. That may have worked when I was a child, but I was an adult now. There's no way it could still possibly have the same effect on me now, not in a million-

Within minutes I was out like a light.

Author's Note: Ah, it's finally here! The dreaded weekend with (dun dun dun)… The Parents (TM)! Elsa's spent most of the story in Lea's KH universe, now it's his turn to spend a few chapters in her Frozen world xP Let me tell you, when I was writing outline notes for this whole story, I had very little planned for this arc at first. I had a smattering of a few vague ideas, but hardly enough to fill even so much as one chapter with! But thankfully, Frozen 2 was released, coming to my rescue and giving me a whole new host of Frozen characters to include xD Then the ideas started flowing, thank goodness! Soooooo, more F2 characters to be introduced in the chapters to come! Fun Fact: Elsa's dress this chapter (complete with lil necklace) is loosely based on the dress she wears at the beginning of F2 for the Some Things Never Change song, just picture it shorter (cuz apparently I just want to do that to all her dresses) and with a maybe slightly poofier skirt.

Next chapter, what new trial and tribulations does The Weekend (capital T, capital W) hold in store for our couple? Is there something up with Anna or she just being her normal oddball self? Was there a reason behind Mother's unexpected show of affection? Will there be trouble brewing at Gramps' bday shindig? Just who REALLY is the cuter cutie to ever cute: Lea or Elsa's wonky snowman plushie? Stay tuned!

Thanks for reading, I super duper appreciate it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far, seeing those lil notifications always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

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bts-bringthescenarios · 5 years ago

Text

Genre: fluff, hints of angst, hints of crack. Pairing: [romantic] female reader + bts!maknae line Contents & Warnings: multiple career!reader, physical contact, swear words, mention of mental health issues.

*** Park Jimin

It had all started with BTS’ increasing concern over Jimin. He seemed to be getting more and more anxious with time. He was such a perfectionist he couldn’t do anything without feeling an intense sense of responsibility: he practiced all the time, he was constantly dieting, he recorded everything countless times until he felt it was close to perfect. If he didn’t achieve the results he strived for, he would become stressed and testy.

One night, Jimin stayed at the BigHit dance practice rooms until very late, going over the same choreography until he felt he had mastered it completely. The trouble was the whole band had spent the entire day practicing, and they were worried Jimin might injure himself if he kept pushing himself so far. So this time they decided to ambush him.

“Okay, music out. This has to stop,” Jin barged in.

“What are you doing? I’m still not confident with the final step sequence!” Jimin protested weakly. Still, he sat down on the ground. He was drenched in sweat and his hands were shaking slightly.

“Then you’ll have to live with the uncertainty,” Hoseok said as he kneeled over Jimin, handing him a bottle of sport beverage.

“You need to rest. Right now,” Taehyung commanded as he sat next to Jimin, eyeing him full of concern.

Jimin downed the bottle, realizing he hadn’t had supper yet, and his lunch had consisted of an apple. He tried to persuade himself that it was best for him to keep practicing, but maybe his brothers were right. He needed to stop.

The next morning they all gathered together with their manager to talk to Jimin about not overexerting himself, and they unanimously decided that he needed to find a new occupation beside the idol life, some way to blow off steam and distract him. They wanted to make sure that his new hobby was laid back, messy and improvisational, so that Jimin could not redirect his perfectionism toward a new activity and he could focus on simply doing whatever he felt like.

That was how BigHit enrolled Jimin in a Clay Sculpting workshop. Horrified, he tried to persuade them to transfer him to any other kind of class: cooking, bartending, painting, expressionist dancing, anything, but BTS and BigHit knew him well, and they knew that anything that meant creating a product or involved dancing would only make things worse. So he began attending the classes, twice a week for two hours. He was not allowed to bring any unfinished projects home, and he had to submit his work every week. This forced him to just turn in whatever he had, regardless of his expectations.

That was how he had met you.

“Okay, (Y/N). Could you please tell us about your piece?” the teacher asked kindly, holding up a bulbous shape so that the rest of the class could see it.

“Well, it was supposed to be a carriage, but looking at it now I’m tempted to just think of it as ‘abstract art’” you scoffed. “I guess I’ll have to name it something pretentious or whatever.”

Everyone laughed, and Jimin felt much more at ease at the fact that the frog that he had been working on looked like a deformed hut with eyes.

At the end of the class, Jimin stepped out of the men’s room, ready to leave, when he overheard a conversation happening in the next room.

“Ugh, I wish they’d let us bring our phones in! No one’s going to believe me,” someone complained.

“No phones allowed, that’s true, but there are no rules over bringing a picture and asking him to sign it. I bet I could sell it for big bucks,” another voice added.

Jimin exhaled silently, deciding to remain hidden until everyone else was gone. He hoped they’d leave soon, Jungkook was picking him up and he was probably waiting in the parking lot already.

“Oh! Let’s ask him next week, (Y/N)!”

“No.” Your voice, firm and clear, resonated in the quiet room, pulling Jimin out of his thoughts. He pressed his ear to the door. “Look, you can do whatever you want, but I’m not going to be a part of this.”

“A part of what?” a man inquired.

“Can you imagine what it must be like?” you countered calmly. “Can you imagine being unable to join a friggin’ clay sculpture class without people harassing you all the time?”

“It’s just an autograph, (Y/N). Jeez,” the same man jeered.

“Yeah, I bet everyone thinks that. And then everyone demands one. All day. Every day.”

A low murmur broke after your words, and Jimin couldn’t hear anything else. Just in case he walked back into the men’s room and remained there until he was positive the classroom was empty.

During the weekend, Jimin found himself thinking about you frequently. He appreciated you standing up for him with that group of people, since he knew it couldn’t have been easy to just go ahead and confront the majority. Besides, there was something very genuine about you, like the way you had mocked your own sculpture. Even the way you spoke felt honest and upfront. He wondered if there’d be a way to talk to you during class.

As it turned out, one of your friends was on vacation and there was a free spot on your table when Jimin walked in. That wasn’t the only good news. It seemed that your words had an impact on the rest of the group, because no one walked to him requesting an autograph or a picture.

Jimin sat next to you slowly, attempting to play it cool, like he’d chosen that seat because whatever. The way his eyes looked away from you bashfully contradicted that notion.

“Hi,” you greeted him smilingly as you put on your apron.

“Hi,” he replied softly. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by being overbearing, so you began preparing the materials in silence. Jimin watched you awkwardly for a second, then he began preparing his things too. He tried to make conversation. “Um… any idea what you’re going to do today?”

“Well, I’ll try to do a lotus flower, ‘try’ being the operative word.”

“I think your carriage last week was pretty good,” Jimin chortled.

“Oh, it’s not a carriage anymore. I’m calling it ‘The Burden of Constantly Failing Clay Class’. It’s an abstract piece,” you joked, and Jimin burst into quiet laughter.

Jimin had a lot of fun with you during the entire class, and he soon discovered that when he didn’t take himself so seriously he actually enjoyed himself immensely. He played with the clay, experiencing the feeling of its texture under his fingers, and shaped up a bird with its wings wide open. Your lotus flower was looking pretty good too, and Jimin suggested you combine the two sculptures after painting them next class.

You walked into the classroom overly excited the next class, and so did Jimin. He had been looking forward to this all week. You worked together again, goofing around with the brushes and joking constantly. When you turned in your final project, the colors were bright and tacky, and it looked quite kitsch. It wasn’t even close to being perfect, but that somehow made you both feel better.

“Why are you taking this class, (Y/N)?” Jimin inquired as you both waited for the rest of your classmates to finish their work.

“Well… I was struggling with negative thoughts, and I needed something to force me to focus on actually doing something regardless of the outcome,” you explained. You didn’t mean to overshare with him, but he looked genuinely interested in knowing and it just slipped out. Besides, you thought, being an idol meant everyone knew so much about him already, it was only fair to give him some personal information about yourself.

“Really? So did I!” he exclaimed impulsively, then looked away, abashed. You smiled at him encouragingly, and he continued. “I was actually working myself too hard, and my brothers decided it was time for me to find a hobby.”

Both of you kept talking until the class was over, and then continued your conversation while Jimin waited for Jungkook to pick him up in the car.

The conversations and joint projects quickly became a routine. This caused a lot of gossip at first, but it died out as time passed and your relationship didn’t change. In truth, you both liked each other quite a lot, but were reticent of asking each other out for different reasons. You didn’t know whether Jimin could date or not, and you were scared you’d make him uncomfortable by asking him out.

Jimin, on the other hand, was simply too shy to do it. Of course, he thought about it quite a lot, and he had formed plans to do it a hundred times, at least. He’d fantasized and daydreamed about it countless hours, perfecting it, but when the time came to act upon it, he systematically chickened out: he walked into the workshop determined to ask for your phone number, but as soon as the class was over he walked away empty handed.

His brothers began to lose patience.

“For fuck’s sake, Jimin, just go and ask her for her phone number after class. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. Tell her you want to send her memes or something,” Yoongi complained.

“If you don’t do it yourself I’ll do it for you,” Jeongguk teased.

“Okay, okay! I’ll do it tomorrow,” Jimin whined, trying to end the conversation.

“You make sure he does that, Jeongguk,” Yoongi added maliciously.

Jimin eyed them suspiciously. Maybe Jeongguk really meant what he said. He would have to act on this soon if he wanted to avoid a catastrophe.

Needless to say, Jimin was fidgety during the entire class, paying little attention to his clay project. It was supposed to be a mug, but he didn’t even shape it properly and it looked like some sort of tower. As the end of the class grew impendingly close, his palms began to sweat.

“I can’t believe I even got the handle right,” you boasted, showing your mug to Jimin as you put your projects away to dry so that they could be painted next class. “I mean, if I keep this up you’ll be keeping my best work yet.”

Jimin looked up in alarm, and realization dawned on him. You had promised to give each other the finished mugs last class, but he’d been so caught up with asking you for your number he completely forgot. He looked down at his mug, beginning to despair. He wasn’t sure the thing could even hold any liquid inside it.

As your classmates slowly filed out of the class, Jimin said goodbye quickly, excusing himself by going to the toilet. You felt uneasy. He’d acted weird today. He’d barely talked, his mug looked like a pepper mill and he stumbled over words the whole time. Was something wrong? Should you stay and ask him? You decided it was best to leave, perhaps he needed time alone.

Feeling a little down, you walked out of the building and a chilly breeze tousled your hair, making you shiver. You remembered you left your scarf in the classroom, so you went back to get it. When you opened the door you found Jimin alone, placing his clay mug inside a cardboard box. His eyes darted up and he froze, turning crimson.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Er… what are you doing?”

Jimin straightened up, eyeing the box guiltily.

“Nothing. I mean, I was just packing the mug.”

“Why are you packing it?” you questioned dubiously. Then you noticed his backpack was open, and he’d made enough space to stuff the cardboard box inside it. “Wait. Were you going to take the mug home?”

“It just needs a few touch ups!” Jimin admitted, biting his lip as you stared at him.

“Jimin, you’re supposed to let it go if it’s not perfect, remember?” you protested, your voice soft and understanding. “Are you having anxious thoughts again?”

“No, not at all. That’s not it.”

“Then why are you so worried about it?”

“Because I forgot we were going to swap mugs!” he confessed. “My mind was elsewhere and I completely forgot, like an idiot. I want you to have something nice. I don’t want you keeping this— this—” he trailed off, glaring at the box.

You were so touched by his words it took you a few seconds to react.

You walked around the table to stand next to him and placed your hands over his shoulders, softly holding him in place as you fixed your eyes on his.

“Jimin, I want you to understand something. I don’t care if the mug’s pretty or artsy or whatever. You know what I care about? The fact that you took the time and trouble to make it for me. That’s it. I’ve been watching you work on that mug, and I already love it. So put it back to dry, or so help me.”

You had meant for the playful threat to make him laugh, but instead Jimin remained still, his eyes burning with emotion. Of course you would have the perfect answer. Of course you would made him feel exactly right. As he pondered this, he discovered this was his chance to take the leap, and he was sure that he wanted to take it.

Carefully evaluating your reaction, Jimin hesitantly lifted his hands to your back and pulled you just a fraction closer. The movement was enough for you to understand what he was trying to do. Your heart thumped loudly in your ears. You slid your hands up his neck gently, grazing your fingertips over his hair.

As he held you in his arms, Jimin’s shyness faded away. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your bodies closer together, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue. It lured you in, and for the briefest moment you touched his lips with yours.

The sound of the elevator doors opening, followed by a series of footsteps in the hallway, had you pulling away from each other hastily. You had just enough time to collect yourselves before Jeongguk strolled in through the door.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long? Class was over like fifteen minutes ago—” he stopped, his eyes darting from you to Jimin’s unmoving figures.

“Oh,” he whispered as he understood what was going on. “You must be (Y/N).”

Knowing that Jimin had talked to Jeongguk about you made your heart flutter. It had the opposite effect on Jimin, though.

“We were just talking right now. Could you please wait for me in the car?” he snapped, indignation winning over the embarrassment.

“Okay,” Jeongguk replied and made to leave. Then he stopped in his tracks and turned around, a bit flustered. “I’m sorry, but I promised Yoongi-hyung I would check...”

Jimin’s stomach dropped. Oh, no he wouldn’t. His eyes narrowed dangerously at his brother, unspoken threats festering behind them. Jeongguk seemed to reconsider for a second, but then he squared his shoulders and stared at you.

“(Y/N), Jimin’s supposed to ask you for your phone number. You know, to send you memes and stuff.”

Jimin learned there and then that it was not possible to die of shame, because if it were he would have dropped dead at that precise moment. He turned to look at your expression to measure the damage Jeongguk had done. For what felt like an eternity you appeared to be confused, your face scrunched up in concentration. Then, to his immense relief, the corners of your mouth quirked up into a wide grin.

“He was just getting to that before you walked in,” you affirmed happily, having realized that he had been so nervous during class because he’d been meaning to ask you out.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll leave you to it, then,” Jeongguk mumbled, then turned around and walked out.

None of you spoke until the elevator shut its doors with Jeongguk inside it.

“So, would you like to take down my number?” you asked innocently, trying to break the ice.

“I am… so sorry. I don’t even know how to begin to make up for what just happened. Memes...” he whispered to himself as he looked away, overcome with indignation.

You beamed at him, trying not to laugh at his expression. When he gazed at you again, it knocked the air out of him. You were glowing: your eyes, your skin, your lips, everything seemed to have become even more beautiful.

Jimin understood then that his chagrin was silly, because your feelings mirrored his own. He grinned at you and held your hands in his.

“I could begin to make amends tomorrow night. Can I buy you dinner?” he asked, turning a light shade of pink.

“Please,” you answered, and leaned in to kiss his cheek.

***

Kim Taehyung

The other members didn’t mind it as much when someone from the BigHit team took their pets to the vet because it was unavoidable, but not Taehyung. Sometimes it couldn’t be helped, but he did the best he could to always be there for Yeontan when he needed his routine vaccinations or when he was ill. He would fuss and get stressed about it all the time, distrusting the vets, until another idol shared with him the number of her favorite vet in the city, who happened to have a home health service.

That was how he had met you. Taehyung was immediately smitten with you since the first time you stepped on the dorm and all the members’ pets greeted you affectionately as if they’d known you forever. Even Yeontan was happily rubbing itself against your shins in demand of your attention before you had removed your coat. Oh yes, Taehyung had crushed on you instantly, and it wasn’t only because he found you very attractive, but also that you were humble, kind and easygoing. You greeted the boys warmly and set to work immediately, listening to all of their questions and lovingly stroking their pets as you checked them up. And what was even better, you treated them as normal people.

When it was Yeontan’s turn to have his medical examination Taehyung lingered protectively around him, but he soon realized it was unnecessary: his pup was so comfortable with you he needn’t be worried. So instead he decided to watch you work, paying close attention to the way you frowned when you were listening to Tan’s heart through the stethoscope, or the graceful movements of your fingers as you checked inside his ears. You were so concentrated on Yeontan’s examination that you didn’t notice Taehyung gawking at you admiringly, nor how his mouth was hanging open during the entire check up.

After suggesting to swap the food brand to make Yeontan gain a bit of weight and arranging to come in a few weeks for his routine vaccination, you asked Taehyung if he had any questions, still holding his pet in your arms as he licked your hand affectionately.

“Is there a place where I can come see you?” he inquired dreamily, and taking into account your bewildered expression, he added, “you know, if I have any questions or if there’s an emergency.”

“Sure, you can come over to the clinic or just call me at any time,” you beamed at him as you handed him a business card with your address.

Immediately after you left, Taehyung secured your card carefully in his wallet and made sure to write down your address in his phone as well. During the next week he tried to restrain himself from getting in touch with you, but he couldn’t help daydreaming about asking you out. He tried to content himself by looking forward to your next visit, but the more time passed, the harder it became for him to ignore the little card tucked in his wallet.

Unable to resist any longer, Taehyung texted you pretending to have forgotten the brand of dog food you’d recommended. You wound up chatting for a while, where he sent you pictures of Yeontan and, of course, a really cute selfie with a wide, boxy smile and his pup in his arms. Then the following day he dropped by your veterinary clinic to purchase the dog food, and he later sent you a video of Yeontan eating his meal happily. Five days later he swung by again, explaining that someone had mysteriously thrown away Yeontan’s food so he needed to buy some more.

During this whole time you had tried very hard to maintain a professional relationship. Honestly, you really tried. But how was it possible to keep a polite distance when he was so sweet and attentive? You tried to be strong and remain emotionally detached since the idea of getting romantically involved with a worldwide famous idol was scary to say the least, and besides, he surely met a lot of interesting women all the time in his industry. You thought he might get bored of talking to you, or he would eventually be too busy to keep it up.

Well, that didn’t happen, not even when he left on a tour for two weeks. He texted you regularly, and despite beginning your daily conversations with a pretext, like Yeontan shivering while he slept or not being hungry, every single time he found a way to keep talking to you about something else, bombarding you with questions about your personal life and telling you funny stories of his daily routine being an idol. Eventually, Taehyung gathered up enough courage to ask you if you were dating someone. When you read that text, your hands were shaking with so much excitement that you nearly dropped your phone. That was the moment you finally accepted that you had utterly and completely messed up your plan to remain emotionally detached.

Needless to say that when the time came for you to go back to the dorms and vaccinate Yeontan, both of you were giddy and excited. Taehyung was head over heels for you, and he promised himself he would ask you out today. He woke up extra early to shower, fix his hair and carefully select his outfit. He spent an entire thirty minutes deciding what perfume to wear, trying them all on the other members, and the last hour before your arrival he brushed his teeth three times.

“So at what time is the hot vet coming?” Jeongguk inquired, a bit concerned after watching Taehyung rinse his mouth yet again.

“Please don’t call her that. It only makes me more nervous to remember how beautiful she is,” Taehyung muttered, anxiously checking his phone again.

“Take it easy, Taehyungie,” Jimin said as he patted his back soothingly. “You’ve been texting all the time for weeks now. I’m sure she’ll accept to go on a date with you.”

When you finally rang the bell, Taehyung stood in front of the door for a second and took a deep breath to collect himself, energetically flattening his shirt with his hands to remove any wrinkles. And when he opened the door, you looked so pretty you knocked the air out of him and he forgot all the things he planned to say to play it cool.

“(Y/N)! You look— I mean, I’m happy to see you again. Hi,” he said, picking up Yeontan from the ground and bringing him close to you so you could pet him.

You were breathless, too. You noticed how handsome Taehyung looked, and for a second it seemed surreal to you that this man had been flirting with you this whole time. Were you absolutely sure he liked you? Maybe you had read too much into your relationship. You had refrained from asking your friends’ advice in the matter because you didn’t want to expose him, but now that you were insecure about his feelings you felt like you should have asked your best friend about her opinion, even if you didn’t tell her who it was you were texting with.

As he closed the door, Taehyung debated with himself whether he should help you remove your coat or not, but before he knew it you were already placing it on the hanger. He scolded himself for being inattentive and decided to compensate by offering you something to drink, only to realize he had forgotten to boil water for tea.

Luckily, Jimin walked in at that very moment and greeted you warmly, after which he said he had prepared some infusions and invited you to the living room. As you walked through the door with your back to both of them, Jimin gave Taehyung two thumbs up, silently mouthing ‘I got you covered’.

The three of you sat down for a few minutes drinking tea and making small talk while Yeontan perched himself comfortably on your lap, after which Jimin excused himself and left Taehyung and you alone. For a second you were afraid you’d be too nervous to talk, but then you noticed Taehyung smiling affectionately at Tan, who had fallen asleep on top of you. Just by looking at him you felt a fuzzy warmth radiating inside you and spreading all over your body.

“I’m glad he likes you so much,” he whispered, his eyes now on yours.

“It definitely makes things easier for my job,” you replied, grinning as you softly rubbed behind Tan’s ears.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Taehyung interrupted, after which he got up and sat beside you, careful not to wake Yeontan. He thought for a moment, wondering why it was so relaxing for him to know Yeontan approved of you so completely. Perhaps it was because Tan was family, and Taehyung wanted him to like you because he liked you. He stretched his hand to stroke the sleeping pup, wondering how to correctly translate these feelings into words, when his fingers accidentally brushed against you.

Taehyung’s hand froze in midair, hovering over your skin as he waited for you to react. Without a word, you lifted your arm slightly, and a small smile spread across Taehyung’s face as you pressed your arm to his palm. Encouraged by your advance, he wrapped his hand gently around your arm and let it slide softly up and down, simply enjoying the feeling until he entwined his fingers with yours. Then his other hand delicately lifted your chin as his thumb caressed your cheek. When you looked up, his face was so close to yours his breath ghosted across your lips.

Taehyung fixed his eyes on yours, wordlessly asking for your permission. You closed your eyes and leaned in.

Yeontan abruptly jumped out of your lap and ran to meet Min Holly at the door. Right behind them Yoongi was silently but frantically gesturing for his own dog to follow him, having realized he was interrupting you in a rather... intimate moment. Yet when he noticed Yeontan had joined Holly, he looked up apologetically and awkwardly waved his hand at you.

“Hi, doc,” he said, bending down to pick up Holly and Yeontan in his arms. “Sorry for the interruption. Let me just—”

Taehyung shut his eyes tightly, grinding his teeth together. You leaned away from him, fixing a stray lock of hair behind your ear to compose yourself. It was hopeless, though, since you were blushing furiously.

“Hi, Min Yoongi. Is everything okay? I can examine Min Holly later,” you said, attempting to dissipate the awkwardness.

“Maybe some other time,” he replied, giving Taehyung a meaningful look, and he shut the door behind him.

You gazed back at Taehyung, who looked absolutely demoralized. However, you took it as a good sign that your fingers were still interlinked, and decided to place your free hand over his.

“Are you alright, Taehyung?” you asked soothingly.

Even though he was brutally disappointed by how your first kiss had turned out, the way his name sounded in your voice made him feel immediately better. He realized you must have been dissatisfied by this whole ordeal too. Taehyung decided to make the best out of the situation and actually continue with the plan he had originally outlined, where he asked you out first and kissed you second.

Taking a deep breath, Taehyung fixed you with a serious, intense expression. When he saw your encouraging smile and felt the warmth of your hands wrapping his, the words effortlessly slipped out of his mouth.

“(Y/N), I really like you. Would you go out on a date with me?”

You beamed at him and nodded, nudging his hand.

“Great,” he grinned. He stood up and pulled you up with him, biting his lips as he drank in your excited smile, then he raised an eyebrow. “Are you free right now?”

Yeontan’s vaccination could wait another week.

***

Jeon Jeongguk

“(Y/N)! I’ll cover you!” Jeongguk yelled, his headset lopsided, as he hammered his fingers against the joysticks. Despite your efforts, you were losing miserably in this game of Overwatch. When you were finally brought down by your enemies, Jeongguk exhaled loudly and slumped against the back of the couch, dropping the Switch beside him. He could hear your sigh echoing from the headset.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I didn’t see Hanzo on time, I was distracted,” he apologized angrily.

“Don’t be silly, if I had better aim we wouldn’t have lost,” you answered back in your own house as you opened a bag of chips and began munching them down in frustration.

“What are you eating?”

“Barbeque chips,” you said in a muffled voice.

“I wish you were here,” he groaned unhappily.

“You’re only saying that because you didn’t think of getting your own chips,” you countered.

“No, I mean it,” he laughed, his good mood disappearing once he noticed it was getting late. “I have to go. I’ll be back home on Saturday. Will you drop by the dorms for supper?”

“Of course,” you chimed, thrilled to know you’d see Jeongguk soon. “I get out of work at seven, I’ll go after that.”

“I’ll get you something tasty.”

The tour had lasted forever, and even though you’d joined Jeongguk in Europe for two weeks during your vacation, it still felt like the longest time ever. As best friends since childhood you had always been supportive of each other: you knew exactly how to make Jeongguk laugh, and he knew exactly how to make you feel better. Jeongguk was convinced that he wouldn’t be the man he was if it weren’t for you, which was why he was so intent on protecting your friendship at all costs from anything that might jeopardize it, even his own feelings.

This task, however, was becoming increasingly difficult to accomplish. During your visit to Europe he’d been this close to ruining everything by kissing you several times. He found it particularly hard to control himself when he saw you waiting for him backstage with your arms open after a show, or when you confided in him with tears in your eyes how much you were struggling with your exams. He wanted to be with you so much it almost overwhelmed the terror he felt about losing you.

You, on the other hand, were not doing much better. You tried seeing other people, but it never lasted longer than a date or two. At first you thought you weren’t in the mood for a relationship, but you eventually discovered that you were constantly comparing your dates to the time you spent with Jeongguk: ‘I’d rather be playing something with Jeongguk’, or ‘Jeongguk would love this place’, or ‘I can’t wait to tell this joke to Jeongguk’. Your friends, tired of hearing you talk about him all the time, already knew what was going on before you reluctantly accepted that you were in love with him. After all, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

You had travelled to Europe with the purpose of confessing your feelings to him, but when the time came you chickened out. Besides, Jeongguk was always so tired and busy you didn’t have the heart to bring it up.

On Saturday afternoon, Namjoon walked into Jeongguk’s room and sat on the bed as the maknae unpacked his bags hastily.

“We only just got home. Why don’t you unpack tomorrow?” Namjoon inquired, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“(Y/N) is coming over and I want everything to look normal.”

“Oh right, I forget (Y/N) freaks out when confronted with packed luggage,” Namjoon replied sarcastically.

“I’m not doing it because it would upset her,” Jeongguk answered testily, “I just want her to see that my room is tidy and I have my life together.”

“I’m sorry, Jeongguk, but I’m not following,” Namjoon insisted innocently. In reality, he knew full well about Jeongguk’s feelings for you. He had tried to broach the topic several times, but Jeongguk had shut himself in like a clam everytime. Namjoon knew Jeongguk was being stupidly stubborn about this, so he hadn’t given up on the subject.

Jeongguk didn’t answer at first. He just kept putting the dirty laundry in the hamper and folding his clean clothes back in the closet. When he was done, he suddenly felt helpless. He sat on the bed next to his hyung and hung his head in his hands.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbled.

“I know what you’re doing,” Namjoon explained, patting his brother’s back softly, “you’re evading yourself.”

“Hyung, she is the most important person in the world to me,” Jeongguk mumbled, twisting his fingers in his hair. “What if I fuck it up?”

“That’s a possibility,” Namjoon conceded, “But what if you don’t?”

Jeongguk pondered for a while, allowing the fantasies he’d been constantly repressing to overwhelm him. He saw you smiling as you walked holding hands. He saw you kissing him, your arms wrapped around him. He saw himself pulling your top off, his lips tracing the curve of your neck…

“Listen, you don’t have to figure it out tonight,” Namjoon hinted, interrupting Jeongguk’s reverie, “but I think you should give yourself a chance. She won’t toss you away if she doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, and if she does feel the same way…”

“Thanks, hyung,” he cut him short, and smiled apologetically at Namjoon. He was grateful for his advice, but he wanted some time on his own to reflect. Namjoon knew when Jeongguk had enough, so he let it rest.

“I need to think about this. I’ll go have a shower,” Jeongguk stated as he got up purposefully.

In preparation for the night, Jeongguk had placed an order for Chinese takeout and shuffled around the house, tidying up and all in all getting into the other member’s nerves. He was trying really hard not to anticipate the possibility of confessing his feelings, so he kept himself busy until the bell rang.

The moment Jeongguk opened the door, you pounced at him and hugged him so tightly you were afraid his ribs would crack. Jeongguk lifted you from the ground and spun you around, laughing loudly and forgetting all about his anxieties. You walked together to his room, chatting excitedly and bumping into each other like drunks, just for the pleasure of being close enough to actually touch each other. No more depending on texting and video calls, at least for a while.

“I’m warning you: I have a lot to tell you about college drama, so you better be ready to stay up all night,” you exclaimed as you sat on top of his bed with your legs crossed. He shut the door and sat opposite to you, grinning widely.

“Are you kidding me? You better be ready for all the stuff I have to tell you about the tour. If I catch you dozing off I won’t be forgiving.”

For a long time you both chatted excitedly, and as the exhilaration gradually wore off the conversation became deeper, more emotional. You talked about family issues, about feelings of inadequacy in social situations and about stress from working and studying, until the conversation eventually drifted to a more sensitive topic for your relationship.

“So…” Jeongguk began, unable to resist the morbid curiosity he felt. “Have you been dating anyone?”

Your cheeks flared up and you looked down, suddenly very focused on pulling a loose thread from the bed cover. Jeongguk held his breath.

“No,” you admitted. Jeongguk exhaled in relief. “And you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” you demanded, looking up again. “I bet you meet a lot of interesting people all the time.”

“I do meet a lot of interesting people. I just don’t want to date them,” he answered defensively.

Why did he have to make things more difficult for you? Maybe if he was dating someone you’d be able to move on. Then again, maybe not.

“I don’t get you, Jeongguk,” you protested, your cooped up fears and frustration bubbling to the surface. “You have the chance to go on dates with so many cool people, but you decide not to?”

“And what about you?” he fired back. “What about your classmates in college?”

“What about them?” you challenged.

“I bet they’re so smart, you could have intellectual debates or whatever—” he began, too aggravated to restrain himself.

“What on Earth are you talking about?” you hissed, feeling increasingly incensed.

“I know some of them have asked you out!”

“So?”

“Well, don’t they count as interesting people to date?”

“I don’t want to date them!”

“Why the hell not?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!” you snapped, out of control.

Jeongguk’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. You panted for a few seconds, your anger sizzling until a feeling of ice cold mortification took over you.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. What had you done?

“You’re in love with me?” Jeongguk whispered.

“I— I just...” you babbled, panicking. You weren’t ready for this discussion. You weren’t planning on this. “I’m sorry, Jeongguk, I can’t right now, I— I think I need to leave.”

You jumped up and pulled the door open, but Jeongguk caught your hand and turned you around before you could walk out.

“Don’t go,” he begged. You tried to look away, but he cupped your face in his hands. He held you so softly, so caringly that you looked back into his eyes despite your chagrin. And when you read the expression on his face, you stopped resisting.

Jeongguk’s eyes bore into yours, his lips parted, and it felt like you were looking at each other for the first time in your lives. His thumb grazed against your cheekbone, and you both remained still and quiet for what felt like an eternity. You raised your hand and caressed his temple, sinking your fingers in his hair. Jeongguk closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the feeling of your touch. Then he huddled closer to you and lifted your chin, lowering his head slowly to yours so that your lips were level.

You didn’t hear the footsteps on the carpet. Jimin turned around the corner of the corridor, carrying a bag of Chinese takeout in his arms. Jeongguk and you were wound tightly in an embrace, your faces so close to each other that Jimin knew this was no friendly hug.

As soon as he realized what was going on Jimin tried to walk away quietly before you noticed him. However, as he attempted to tiptoe backward the paper bag crackled in his arms. The sound of of it broke the spell, and Jeongguk and you jumped away from each other. You stared at Jimin dumbfoundedly, too confused and surprised to feel embarrassed yet.

“Hi (Y/N),” Jimin’s voice was strained. “Um, Jeongguk... I brought you the takeout you ordered.”

The three of you looked at the bag, then back at each other, like idiots. Jimin clumsily stepped forward and handed Jeongguk the takeout.

“Thanks,” Jeongguk mumbled.

Jimin stepped back awkwardly, biting his lip. Then he squared his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Look, I’m sorry I interrupted, and I know I shouldn’t say this right now but I’m really glad you both got over yourselves and this is finally happening,” he blurted out, articulating every word so fast it almost made you dizzy. "Okay, bye!"

Jimin turned around and strode away at an inhuman speed.

For a few seconds, neither of you said a word. Then Jeongguk gestured you to go into his room. Once you were both inside, he locked the door, placed the bag away and turned to face you, a determined expression on his face. Now that it was out in the open, he needed to say the words, and he needed you to hear him say them.

“(Y/N), I love you. I always have. I don’t want to date anyone else, only you.”

Jeongguk’s voice was clear and steady, and his eyes burned with intensity as he spoke. It made you feel like laughing and crying at the same time.

“Jimin’s right, we’ve been so stupid,” you giggled bashfully, and took a step closer to him. Jeongguk pulled you to his chest and began planting soft kisses on the fringe of your hair, on your eyebrows, on the bridge of your nose. You pulled away just an inch to look him in the eyes. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long, it’s just—”

“I know,” Jeongguk said, and he kissed you in a very non-platonic way.

#bts #bts scenarios #bts reactions #maknae line #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #park jimin #jimin #kim taehyung #v

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beccarooni · 5 years ago

Text

Soft

(A.N: Day 3 of thorbruce week! Prompt: Soft)

Thor stood just a few metres away from the spaceship doors, fiddling with the end of his braid. He wasn't nervous, of course. This wasn't a nervous waiting. He certainly wasn't procrastinating anything, least of all meeting Bruce again after his stint with the Guardians. After all, why would he?

He loved Bruce - a fact that he could say out loud to anyone who would listen. At first, it had been difficult admitting it. He hadn't ever really denied it, just… had trouble with the expressing of it all. With the state of himself and his people, love wasn't really something that had been high on his schedule.

But it was hard hiding feelings with Mantis around. All it took was one brush of skin (something which was very difficult to avoid, given the practice he'd taken up of plaiting her hair back once she'd complained about it getting in the way during battle) and his feelings were exposed to the world. Or rather, the ship.

And honestly, he didn't mind. He wasn't embarrassed by it. It was just...new.

But the good kind of new. The new that came with every hidden treasure the Guardians had shown him, and the new that came with the ones he'd been able to impart to them.

And he wasn't all that nervous about Bruce seeing him, either.

Quill had been kind enough to braid back the unruly locks of hair he'd been growing out since he'd left earth, and if he was being totally honest, Thor liked the look. He liked the long trail of gold that now ran down his back, he liked how it looked with his beard that was a little more tame than it had been. And accompanied with the discarded Ravager jacket (apparently it had been given to Drax, who vehemently refused on account of his 'no shirt' policy, which...Thor still didn't get what was going on with that, actually) it all looked rather fetching.

He liked the way he looked. Even the amber eye didn't seem so bad, now that the scar had faded somewhat with time. Thor felt good. For the first time in a while, actually. He felt fine. Admirable. Encouraged.

And yet.

The spaceship doors still loomed in front of him, the seconds ticking by as his hand hovered over the button.

Bruce was out there, outside, big and green and waiting for him to come out and say hello. Waiting for a reunion that had been two years in the making. Waiting for stories of space, adventure, and probably anticipating something weird given the people he'd been traveling with.

Thor had stories. He had thousands of them. He even knew the one he'd open on, once all the catching up was out of the way.

He'd planned it all out. Bruce and he would… hug, probably. Bruce seemed to enjoy hugging now a lot more than he had, didn't flinch away from contact anymore, but rather instigated it himself. And Thor hadn't exactly been able to stop himself from thinking of Bruce's arms recently, so he certainly wasn't opposed to the idea.

They'd hug, they'd talk, Bruce would tell him what he'd been up to, and then the topic would turn to him.

And then Thor could tell Bruce about the little market they'd found on Knowhere.

***

He'd hated Knowhere, at first. Loud, crowded, and filled with enough thieves to house the entirety of Asgard's wealth in their pockets. The bars smelled, the people weren't exactly reputable, and Thor was really starting to wonder what they were doing there until Rocket had directed him to a stall, snickering behind his paws.

There, nestled amongst second hand pistols and what Thor was sure had been a jar of bees, was a mug.

But not just any mug.

A commemorative mug, mass produced, cheaply priced. One patterned with a familiar green, and a very familiar face etched into the side of it.

This was a mug from Sakaar, commemorating the famed battle between the grand champion and a much smaller figure who was crudely labelled as 'Thunder Lord'.

"Y'know, when you said you'd been around, I figured that was just the nine realms bullshit you keep harpin' on about."

Rocket hopped up onto the table, snatching the mug from his grasp with a barely choked off laugh.

"But here I was, wanderin' through a marketplace, and who's mug do I see on this mug? None but the Lord of Thunder himself!"

"God. It's the God of Thunder."

Thor shook his head, rolling his eyes as Rocket's laughter increased.

"That's not what it says on the mug."

"That's because the mug is wrong, Rabbit. And I will not be insulted by this… this fallacy!"

Thor lifted the mug closer to his face, trying to ignore the flashing signals and prices his eye was currently trying to show him.

"Doesn't even look like me."

"But it is you."

Rocket was quick to pass over the units required once the stall owner glanced in their direction, reaching up to tap one claw against the alternate side of the ceramic.

"And that's your boyfriend."

"He's not-" Thor turned sharply, yanking the cup further towards his chest as his face dropped to an embarrassed scowl.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, course not. You just mention him every other sentence, and you're currently staring at the picture in a way that's making me uncomfortable. But sure."

Rocket jumped off the table, hoisting his gun further across his back before starting to walk again.

"Just friends."

"The times I have mentioned Bruce have been entirely relevant, actually."

"That's a heaping crock of shit, Sparky, but whatever." A small huff escaped from Rocket’s mouth before he could stop it, and the dark eyes turned up to Thor in a manner that was almost reproachful.

"I don't even get why you're trying to deny it with me. Quill, and the others, I'd get - you don't even know those guys. But I've known you for 5 friggin' years. You can't fool me."

Thor swallowed, fingers tracing cautiously around the ceramic as he lowered it into his bag. Rocket was right, as always, and it was uncomfortable.

Because Thor had been sure he was being subtle about this. It was hardly his fault that he kept bringing the scientist up, was it? Things, especially space things, applied to Bruce. Anyone with any sense in their brain would've made the connection to the large green scientist and the large green forests of the Outer Planets, or the burning stars of the Orion system and the way Bruce liked his coffee slightly burnt, or the way the dazzling lights of the spacecraft were so similar to his eyes and - oh no.

Rocket was right. This was getting out of hand.

Thor sighed, letting one hand lower to clasp Rocket by the shoulder.

"I apologise, my friend. It's not that I don't trust you with this, it's…" Thor shrugged, turning his gaze to streets as if he could find answers in the drunk Knowhere dwellers loitering in the streets.

"It's me I don't trust. I haven't said anything of the sort to Bruce yet, and I just-"

"Ok, ok, you don't need to get soft with me. I get it." Rockets fingers carefully plucked Thor's hand from his shoulder, but didn't break away from him entirely.

Instead, he turned slightly, pausing before his next few words as if he wasn't entirely sure he should say them (which certainly put Thor on edge - Rocket was an absolute master of saying things he shouldn't).

"You don't gotta say anything to me. Just… say it to him. Don't mean to sound all doom and gloom but you never know what's gonna happen."

Rocket glanced downwards, letting out a soft sigh, fixing his gaze firmly on a puddle of rainwater in front of him.

"You don't wanna regret it later."

Thor had tried to say something else, then. And despite having received numerous scratches and bite marks telling him that hugs were not Rocket's deal, he did try and coax the small Rabbit into one. Which he was rewarded for by a small snarl, and the point of a gun pressing into his leg.

But he did think on it, when he laid awake in his bunk that night.

Life was short. Even for him.

He'd thought his thousands of years of living were over, back on the ruins of Asgard. He'd thought so again on the Statesman, with the flashing pain of the power stone etching into his skull.

Again, and again, Thor had faced death and every single unspoken word had been forced to the forefront of his mind.

And again and again he forgot about it. Buried it down deep, resolved to tell Bruce the next time. Or the next, or the next.

If he didn't do something about this now…

Maybe that's why he was nervous. Because outside of those spaceship doors, waiting in the grass and dirt of the small blue planet he'd learnt to love, was his confession. Was his unspoken words, his regrets for things he'd never said. Was the prospect of acceptance - or the fear of rejection.

Like it or not, out there was his life. Fragile as ceramic, cradled in hands of emerald.

He let out a careful breath, tapping a few codes into the door, feeling the cool air on his face.

It was time to face the music.

It was time to go home.

#thorbruceweek2019 #thorbruce #thor #guardians of the galaxy #post endgame #professor hulk #rocket raccoon #thunderscience #gammahammer #fluff #thorbruce week 2019

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 5 years ago

Text

Dear Hannah,

Pairing: technically Destiel, but that’s not what this is about Word Count: 4.9k (wow wtf) Warnings: mentions of self-harm, cancer, shitty father John (as per usual), angst and angst and father-daughter love and angst. Summary: When Dean, strapped to a bed, coughing up a storm, catches sight of his newly-adopted baby girl, he decides that, if he is to leave this world, he has to leave something behind for his favorite person. So he writes a booklet, trying to tell her all the things he would’ve if he was alive. Author’s note: This was originally done for @welldonebeca ‘s 2019 Song Challenge but I fucked up thinking the deadline was the 31st of October instead of the 15th. Whatever the case, my prompt was movement, by Hozier, which I interpreted as Dean being fascinated by his daughter enough that he’s inspired to write a letter book to her. Of course this wouldn’t be the entire thing, but I had to keep it under wraps.

Feedback is always welcome! No beta, all mistakes are my own.

~~~~

Hannah,

Christ, it’s the third time I’m starting this. The truth is, I’m coming up with blanks as to how to actually start. This has got to be the best I’ve got.

I’ll tell you the moral of this story, my story, from the get-go. Life’s a fucking bitch, okay? I want you to know that from now. I’d try to hold back on my swearing, but I want you to know me as the person I am, the person I’ve always been. I know what having an absent, terrible father’s like, as you’ll soon see, and I don’t want that for you. I wish I could tell you all this up close, give you advice, tell you all my crazy-ass stories as the dumbass of the teenager I was, and all the shenanigans your uncle (wow, Sam really is a friggin’ uncle!), by a campfire, while you drink your first beer.

Sadly, my odds aren’t looking so great, honey. So this is all I got. I know it’ll never be enough but something is better than nothing.

Enough with the chick flick introduction, though. Let’s start.

The pen’s heavy in his hand, and it’s equal parts the mental heaviness, the weight of the task, as it is his fatigue. Dean’s really just started this. He can’t believe it. The heaviness of uncertainty, of whether or not he’ll get enough time to finish it settles on his chest like an anvil. There’s a solid chance he doesn’t make it before his time comes.

Hannah’s sitting right there, carelessly looking at the plastic, grinning stars above her crib. She’s so innocent, skin creamy, chocolaty and bright, a young, fearsome woman that’s gonna turn out to be so incredible, he’s certain. A small baby who’s soon to walk.

Dean already knows, this kid is destined for great things.

She’s gonna grow up, past the tutus and the miniature racing-car collections, she’s gonna have a movie she’ll play on repeat for ever and ever, with a song that he’ll learn by heart after having heard it so many times. She’s gonna go to high school and she’ll be bullied but she’ll learn to kick some serious ass. She’ll develop interests, she’ll have mediocre grades but a fiery passion and a love for anything alive.

She’ll, then, go to college. She’ll fall in love, with people and life itself. She’ll do what she loves most and she’ll be so damn good at it, she’ll excel.

And Dean… Dean will be nowhere near her to see all of it.

The bitterness… it makes his eyebrows stitch together, his lip curl in clear frustration and sadness. After everything he’s been through, finally finding the person he loves most and creating a full-ass apple pie life, and it’s all gonna be gone as soon as it started. Because, as he told his favorite Hannah, life’s a fucking bitch, and there’s no denying it.

As he lays there in his bed, pale as a sheet, watching her giggle for a while, reaching for the stars, soon yawning, small eyelids shutting softly and rocking just slightly, he… he falls in love with her. This tiny, tiny happy-beyond-words creature that could ask anything of him, and he’d do it, god damn it. He really would.

A giant bubble grows in his chest, a bubble that makes him feel like he’ll protect her at absolute all costs. He’ll grab the moon and fucking move it if that’s what she needs. And all she has to do is yawn and fall asleep.

A tear appears in the corner of his eye, lingering and falling down his ashy cheek. He can’t believe he brought this bright ray of sunshine to this world, and he’s about to make her live with an absent father. That he won’t get any memories with her at all. It’s torture. All of it.

He doesn’t know what else to do, so he grabs his pen with more determination. If he’s to leave her with something, it’ll be a part of him and that is that.

~~~~~

I was born on January 24th, 1979, the first son of a, dare I say, colossally unlucky family. Your uncle, Sam, my brother, is four years younger and will ALWAYS be a wimp, don’t let the height fool you. He always had terrible, shaggy hair and was always the sharpest tool in the box. Hell, the boy went to freaking LAW SCHOOL of all places! That’s kinda crazy!

My parents, your grandparents, were Mary and John.

Mary was a sweet, incredible, fearsome blonde woman, kindest of them all. She’d cut the crusts off my toast, sing Hey, Jude to me before bed and tell me angels were watching over me. (While we’re on the topic of the Beatles, make a note to listen to them. “Hey, Jude” must be your first song, but beyond the classics [Let it Be, Hard Day’s Night, I Saw Her Standing There, I Wanna Hold your hand etc] I hope “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” will hold a special spot in your heart, much like me.)

So, Mary. Sweet Mary. She was a real badass, you know. This one time, Sammy was hungry, so I decided to make, get this, French fries. I think I was seven. She caught me getting ready to pour oil in a very hot pan. When I say she swooped in, I mean it, quite literally. I think she saved me a hand that day.

Now, about John…You’ll have to forgive the mess that I’m about to make with this, but John was a fucking sorry excuse of a father, alright? He got piss-drunk every night after Mom died, and naturally, Sam and I were the punching bags, sometimes literally. The best nights were the ones he wasn’t home.

For years, the house was silent. Sam and I tried to keep everything clean, stock up on canned food, because at times we would only have ten bucks to hold us for over two weeks. I took him to school, fed him, made sure he studied –not that I really had to- and kept John of his hair. At sixteen I picked up a shift at Bobby Singer’s garage, a man that, at this point, deserves the Dad title significantly more than John.

Whenever Sammy was sick, it was my fault. Was anyone loud? Dean’s fault. House dirty? Dean’s fault. Did we wake him up? …Let’s just say we learned not to do that.

I tried to put myself before Sam, did anything I could to protect him. There were times when that wasn’t even enough.

I dropped out of high school at seventeen. The second I saved up enough money, I rented a hole of an apartment at the other side of town, in an attempt to help Sam have a normal life, and we hauled ass out of there.

Before I tell you about our shitty apartment, let me tell you about the highlights of my high school career. Starting off with me “unintentionally” kicking a ball at my least favorite teacher’s face (and hitting him) ((Don’t take your father’s example, kid, violence isn’t the answer.)) (Did feel pretty good at the time though), making out with Jenny in the Janitor’s closet and with Arthur at the locker rooms afterhours (I don’t know what age you’re reading this at, but I sure hope it’s over 16). Also, that one time I pulled a prank at my friend, Cole. I spray painted his entire locker. He didn’t like me very much, to be honest…

~~~~~

An important story I feel inclined to share with you, would be the fact that I was once a bully.

Kids are just mean, but also, I couldn’t understand that troubles at home, traumatic pasts and anger are not to be taken out on other people who are not at fault. Instead of finding a healthy way to deal with everything that was happening at home, I decided that every happy person that was weak enough to meddle with, didn’t deserve any happiness.

I picked on a couple of people, but I think the one I will always regret will be Kevin Tran.

Kevin was a freshman when I was in junior year. He was in the Math club, the Science club and the Robotics club. He had maybe two friends, he was skinny, short, shy as hell, he drowned himself in oversized clothes and always carried a neon green book bag around, that worked on me like red cloth to a bull.

Every time I spotted the bag in the hallway, the drill would start. Shoving the poor kid against the locker, calling him names and laughing at his face for no apparent reason. I’d steal his calculators when I found out he had chemistry tests, spray paint the door of his locker and cause rib bruises from my shoving him against walls and furniture.

I soon find out Kevin was severely depressed. In fact, I saw him in the back of the school, where I’d usually go out to smoke because I thought it was cool (it’s not, it makes you light headed, unfocused and struggle to breathe. Just an all-around terrible experience, but this is just a side-note.)

It was a Friday after school. I didn’t wanna go straight home and Sam still had one more period, so I decided to go smoke and listen to some music in the back of the school building. And that’s where I found him.

I don’t know into how much detail I should go here, but Kevin was harming himself. With a small pocket knife, he sat on an old basket and made incisions on his arms, tears running down his face like a faucet. My God, Hannah, I’ve never felt like a bigger piece of shit in my life, because I knew, and I knew very well, that at least part of those incisions were caused by me.

I called out to him, and the look on his face, as he scrambled away from me, made me feel so much worse. I was the scum of the earth at that moment. I was the biggest asshole on the planet.

My initial reaction, I’ll admit, was pretty harsh. I grabbed the pocket knife out of his hands and threw it as far as possible in the grass. I grabbed a small first aid kit I had in my bag (in case anything happens to Sam), made him sit down by force and bandaged him up. He’d been reduced to sniffles by the time I was done.

Somewhere in between, I remember, he asked me why I was doing this. I didn’t answer.

Eventually, when I was done, I sat on the ground in front of him, ripping blades of grass from the ground. I apologized. Something along the lines of “I didn’t know, not that that’s an excuse. What I’m going through is not an excuse, but I hope it makes you understand that it was nothing to do with you. I’ll stop. I’m sorry. Don’t do this to yourself, man.”

That evening, Kevin was one of the very first people who found out about John. His own dad had passed away, and things at home were rough with his mom. That, along with the whole depression thing… it wasn’t a good combo.

After a solid two hours of talking with him, making amends, apologizing profusely and getting my apology accepted (which I absolutely didn’t deserve by the way,) we made it back out front.

From then on, I stopped picking on anyone. Kevin and I actually became really good friends, though we drifted apart eventually. I think he works in Google now.

This is really important. I want you to pay attention and take heed of my words. There are a couple lessons in this story.

One, be kind. Always be kind. To everyone. It doesn’t matter if they’re going through a rough time or not, the same way it didn’t matter that Kevin’s father was dead. You don’t know the other person. There’s never a reason to not be kind, if the person has done nothing to you. A smile can make somebody’s day, a compliment can go a long way, and being open and honest and kind will make people who are looking for help find you, it will make other’s lives better, and if you’ve helped even a single person, your life has been successful.

Two, never, and I mean never take your emotional pain out on yourself, or others. There are healthy ways to deal with ugly emotions. There are people who can help. Find a new hobby, as silly as it sounds. Start doing something creative, something that draws your attention elsewhere, like art of any kind, or, in my case, fixing cars. Something to keep you busy. If you’re in trouble, emotional or otherwise, there are people who love and support you, who will do their mightiest to be by your side, and if those aren’t your friends, they’re definitely your family.

Bottling up emotions, or dealing with them in horrible, unhealthy ways has been my go-to. Don’t be like me. Express yourself in different ways, and don’t keep your feelings shoved under the carpet, because it will, absolutely, unceremoniously explode, and you’ll take people down with you. And that’s when you’ll feel like the worst person in the world. The guilt, the residue of said ugly feelings isn’t worth it. Trust me.

If you make mistakes, if you hurt people who don’t deserve it, learn from it, grow, be better. Do not sink into yourself , don’t hate yourself. Apologize, make amends and move on, try to never do the same thing. It’s okay. We’re all human. The only thing that matters is that you try to be better.

No matter what, remember that I will always love you.

~~~~

So. Our apartment back in Kansas was, as I told you, a real dump. It had a tiny-ass kitchen with a miniature stove, two mattresses that were creaky and lumpy and were left there by the previous owners, as well as the TINIEST bathroom you’ve ever seen. It didn’t have shower walls, it had a shower head and a drain on the floor and was not in any way separated from the toilet. The walls of the place were peeling, the floor was tiled and cracked in a bunch of places and the humidity must’ve been over 80%.

I fucking loved that place.

On our third day there, I borrowed some spray paints from Cole, carried them in a cardboard box up the claustrophobic, green stairs, and opened the door in absolute triumph. That day, Sam and I opened the two windows, scratched the paint off the walls with two spatulas and went WILD. It must’ve been the only day Sam didn’t study.

Actually, no, now that I think about it, there was another time, when little ol’ ten-year-old Sam fell off a ledge and freakin’ broke his arm. I dumped him on Cole’s bike and pedaled to the hospital like a maniac. That was the first day he didn’t study.

Anyways, that apartment wall made our crappy little living situation a home. Our own sanctuary. We finally got agency over our lives, from staying up late, to choosing which type of dish soap we’d use because it smelled better and didn’t remind us of the terror chores once were. Eventually, we got soft blankets, books, board games, decorations… Finally, after 18 years, we’d started our lives.

I think one of my favorite memories would be coming home from my first date with a guy. I was just 18 and Benny, the dude, kissed me before I left, his fists clutching at my flannel. I was driving home with a giant, dopey-ass smile, stretching from one ear straight to the other. That same night, with new-found confidence, I told Sammy to drop his book, bought ourselves some beers and snacks, and drove to my favorite clearing.

There, right under the stars, with Sammy trying out his first beer, I told him I’m bisexual, and the cute bastard hugged me and told me he loved me no matter what. That same night, he thanked me for everything I did for him while living with John. We talked until the sun was rising.

I’ll tell you this right now, kid, in case you haven’t gotten it yet. I love Sam. Love him to bits. I raised that kid all on my own and will do anything to protect him. I know he cares for me, I know it kills him to see me like this, in a bed, pale, miserable and coughing every three seconds. I just want you to know, honey, that whatever you need, anything at all that, for some reason, you don’t want to tell Dad, you go to Sam, okay? You can trust him to be supportive, loyal, to be there for you when no one else is and to love you like you’re his own daughter and best friend. I promise you, he will always, always be there when I’m not.

That night made us grow so much closer. The lesson here, I’d say, is be bold and confident in what you believe in and who you are. Be your own, unique self, be brave, and love whoever you choose to fully and with your whole heart, without shame, ever. If you are yourself, I promise, you’ll find the people that love you for you, not the person you’re pretending to be. You’ll inspire other to be themselves.

A good example of this would be my best friend, Charlie. When I came out, I was armed to the teeth to deal with whoever wanted to bully me for that part of me. To tell you the truth, my school coming out was a mishap. It takes nothing but a risky make-out session in the janitor’s closet and nosey students that rip doors open far too violently. Nevertheless, I was literally out of the closet, fists up. And that’s exactly when I met Charlie.

With her comic book stories and her books, her bubbly personality and bright smile, she wiggled her way into our lives and permanently stayed there. She was a freshman when I was a senior, but she seemed to find sanctuary by my side, as I did by hers. She was just one of those people who clicked, you know? Far too mature and interesting for her age, with an obsession with computers, even back when they were barely even a thing.

She now lives with her long-term girlfriend, Gilda, who owns the best bakery in the state. Ask for the apple pie, you will not be disappointed.

Charlie demanded of me to tell you, first off, to watch Marvel and screw DC right to hell (with which I have to agree, though Batman still remains one of the coolest Superheroes of my childhood (and Joker, the coolest villain)). She also told me that, if you read this, go ask her for her comics, She’d love to let you borrow them and she’s certain you’ll love them. Second off, she asked of me to tell you the Impala story…

It’s not as grand as she makes it out to be, honestly. However this is the part where you’ll learn all about the one and only Bobby Singer.

Bobby was my boss, an old friend of dad’s John’s and the first person who ever saw the bruises under my sleeves. He gave me a job, a family, and later on… a car.

Bobby owns a scrapyard. He taught me everything I know about cars, including driving, and for my seventeenth birthday, he brought a dusty, beat-up car in my workspace. The hood was bent, the seats were torn, and the engine needed immediate replacing. The customer never paid the price for the compartments the garage had paid, so under store policy, the car was ours.

Hannah, I can’t exactly describe to you how long it took me to repair that car. Buying the spare parts and assembling them would’ve probably taken less time. I built her from the ground up, it took me almost a month and a half of daily, eight-to-six work, but I made it. I fixed her up. She was in prime condition, and I had completely fallen in love with her.

I finished working on her early January, dreading the moment I would see her drive away. Bobby had seen all the effort, by then I’d worked at his place for over a year. So, on the day of my birthday, I opened my locker to put on my jumpsuit, when I saw a box placed on my neatly folded clothes. I’m sure you’ve guessed it by now. Yes. It was the keys to my dream car. A beautiful, sleek, black 1967 Chevrolet Impala, the one I had brought back to life. And it was all mine.

I don’t think I’ve hugged Bobby any tighter since then. Hell, I don’t think I’ve hugged him period.

That car… That car is probably the most stable thing in my life, apart from Sam, obviously. I’ve cried in that car, I’ve escaped from my terrible past, I’ve laughed, I’ve had my first time, I’ve been through breakups and I’ve spent my best days with it. I cherish it more than any other item I know. It’s not even an item, it’s my baby. I love it almost as much as I love you.

I met your dad, and kissed him for the first time in that car.

It’s actually a pretty fucking hilarious story. Cas was on a date with this guy who was completely disgusting and creepy as hell, so in true movie fashion he decided to, get this, jump out the bathroom window and escape.

Yeah.

So just as he was running out of the bar, the guy must’ve caught wind of him or something, because he stepped outside in order to find Cas. What did your dad decide to do, I hear you ask? He ducked behind a car in the parking lot, opened the first unlocked door he found, and jumped in.

Spoiler alert. It was my car.

I was sitting in the front seat, fighting with Sam through text when the door opened. It was highly comical, watching this guy duck behind the bench seat, mumbling “oh God, oh God, oh God, please don’t see me, oh God.” I cleared my throat.

“Oh, I see you, buddy.” That’s the first thing I told him. The look on his face and the genuine yelp, made me laugh a full belly laugh, and completely forget about my fight with Sam. He apologized profusely, explained panicked what had happened and begged me to stay in my car just for a couple minutes so the guy can lose him.

Long story short, we ended up going out ourselves. I don’t know how to explain it… we just clicked immediately. Like, there was a connection. Him and his big words, his baby blue eyes, his steady, deep and rough voice… I knew right away that all I wanted was to spend time with him, learn everything he was willing to share with me.

I’m so glad to have met your Dad. He was, is and always will be one of the best, kindest, most humble and genuine people on the planet. He sees the world from such a beautiful point of view that contradicts my eternal realism (he enjoys calling me pessimistic.) He’s a genuinely great person, and I can’t wait for you to figure so out yourself, if you haven’t already.

Of course, it wasn’t all fine and dandy. Meeting his parents was hellish. Let’s just say, Chuck and Naomi aren’t… the best people. They tried really, really hard to stop us from seeing each other, and eventually, they completely disowned Cas. He doesn’t like to talk about them much. His brother, Gabriel is an asshole, but a loveable one, while his other brother, Michael, you probably don’t know about. And you shouldn’t. Let’s just leave it at that. If Cas wants to share that story with you, he’ll do it at his own time.

I’m sure there’s a lesson to be learned here. Something about, when finding your person, to keep them, fight for them, don’t stop loving them because everyone else is telling you (unless of course that person is toxic). But I don’t think I can give you solid love advice through a dumb book. Every relationship is different, and your Dad’s better at this than me anyways.

I don’t know exactly how long this thing is, by this point, but I’ve almost finished the pages of this booklet. I was really, really worried I wouldn’t finish it in time, but here we are. However many thousand words later, and I’m clueless as to how to wrap this up.

My life isn’t over yet, however it looks like it soon will be. I will confess to you, I’m scared, but most of all I’m angry. I’m angry at the world, at life and fate, if that’s even a thing, at God even. I’ve fought my whole life for peace and quiet, and right when I have found it, it’s being ripped from under my feet. Cancer fucking sucks.

No matter, my chin is up, and so are my fists. Winchesters don’t give up easy. I will fight this until my last breath, even if the chance of watching you grow up and being able to tell you everything I’ve written face-to-face, is nothing but a sliver. After all, impossible odds were always my favorite.

Sweetheart… I don’t know what to say. This might be the only thing you have left of me for the rest of your life, and it tears me up inside. Of course, I will not be able to write thirty five years of experience in a small book such as this, but this is a part of me, memories you can keep all to yourself. Ask Dad or Sam about any of it, I’m sure they’ll fill some gaps, tell you things I haven’t written.

I don’t want you to cry much, even though I’m not sure you will at all, given the fact that you’ve never met me. Either way, whether you feel or think anything of me or not, I want you to know that I love you so much. I’ve only known you for a couple of months, and, already, you’re the brightest ray of sunshine in my life.

I promise I will be by your side no matter what happens, through every milestone and hardship, I will love you from wherever I am.

Honey, please stay true to yourself. Never give up, no matter what curveballs life throws at you. There’s always reason to keep going, even if you can’t see it. Always keep fighting, ‘till your last breath, ‘cause you’re a Winchester and you’ve absolutely got this.

If there is something I want you to remember from the scribbly mess I’ve made, it’s this:

I love you. I’m proud of you. I believe in you.

Go get ‘em, tiger.

Bonus:

Tears streaming down velvety soft cheeks, dainty fingers gripping the book tightly, like her life depends on it, Hannah stares at the ceiling and groans at the mess she is. It’s the second time she read that last bit, and just as she thought she’d gotten over it, here she is, crying just as hard as the first.

She gets off her bed, pulling on her sweater sleeves. Feet in slippers, she makes her way down the corridor, knocking on the door, and opening when she gets an answer. Her fingers grip the doorknob, the other clutching the book, and she stares at the bed, watching as green eyes look up from his laptop.

“Why did you give this to me, you ass, you’re not dead,” she sobs, and Dean pushes his laptop to the side, arms opening wide to invite her in them.

“Aw honey,” he coos, a gentle, loving smile on his face. Hannah climbs on the bed and slides to his side, curling up in his arms. “It’s okay.” Fingers stroking her hair gently, as sobs wrack through the poor girl’s body. Dean almost feels bad.

Just then, Cas appears in the doorway, having heard Hannah’s cries. He sees the booklet clutched in her arms, her face buried in Dean’s neck, hidden behind her spring-curly hair. He makes eye contact with his husband, a knowing half-smile on his lips, as he leans on the doorway.

“I love you,” Hannah says, nose stuffed and running. “Thank you for not giving up on a relationship with me, even when you didn’t think you’ll survive.” Tears wet Dean’s eyes, as he presses a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I love you too.”

#dean fluff #dean angst #destiel #daddy!dean #destiel dads #supernatural au #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn angst #spn fluff #oc

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mushroommouth · 5 years ago

Text

The Good Mourning Part III

A/N: Haha, guess who’s not dead?

Anyway, happy we’re-done-with-January! Sorry this chapter is somewhat dialogue-heavy. There was a lot of resolution that had to be done and not much action to go along with it.

Additionally, there are some scenes missing/ things that weren’t addressed quite just yet. Some of them were removed for for flow purposes, and others. Well. We’ll get there when we get there.

Regardless, I hope you enjoy the finale of TGM!

-Skye (👻)

“Easy, easy—”

Aaron laughed and nudged his boss’s hand off his arm.

“I’m burned not busted. Besides, you’re the one a billion years old.” Aaron smirked and readjusted the icing bag. “I should be worrying over you, if anything.”

“Very funny. I’ll fire you any day now, I swear.” Aaron’s boss rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. “Besides, you got burned on your dominant hand. Look at this frosting work. It’s- actually, It’s fine. But you’ve certainly done a lot better.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just kind of hard to get a good grip. I’ll get the hang of it.”

“And your leg?”

“Again, I said I’m fine. What the hell is your problem? It’s been almost three months.” Aaron rolled his shoulder and sighed before setting down the icing bag. “Also, I can’t work when you’re looking at me like that. Just…really. What is going on with you, Stanley?”

Stanley sighed and rubbed his face before nervously scratching at his beard.

“I…I don’t know. I guess I never really had a family and– c’mon, you little shit. Don’t make me say it.”

“Aww, boss. You never told me you had a heart deep beneath that gross crusty old man act.” Aaron laughed.

“Yeah, yeah. Real cute. See if I sign your check next time, much less open up.” Stanley stormed across the kitchen to wash his hands. “You’re real charming, kid.”

“Oh don’t be like that.” Aaron picked up the icing bag and started gently swirling frosting onto each cupcake. “You know what I mean. When I was out, there’s no one else I woulda trusted to watch Tom ‘n the kittens…’n…I don’t know. If I could have my cat in here, with you guys and baking and all… I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

Aaron smiled slightly.

“Besides, you were there for me when I had no one and you hired me as a cashier, and then you gave me the chance at…this.”

Aaron froze before bursting out in laughter.

“Stan, are you-are you crying?”

“I’m just thinking about how terrible of a cashier you were.” Stanley sniffled and wiped at his eyes in the crook of his elbow. “You were friggin terrible. Got to me is all.”

He put gloves on and walked to stand next to Aaron.

“We lost almost as much money from you doing math bad as when you were out.” Stan grabbed a tray of red velvet and got started icing them. “We needed ya here. We were hit pretty hard without you. I…should have really kept my promise and made the big guy pay for it.”

“You mean Dan? I mean, they were hit pretty hard, too.” Aaron sighed. “I mean, literally, sure. He’s been in and out of the hospital since. I can’t imagine what his copay is, and if he didn’t step in front of it for me, I’d been finished for, I’m sure. But also… I dunno. I don’t really have a family either, but when I do it’s this.”

“You’re a good guy, Aaron.”

Aaron snorted. “You’re just saying that to make me feel good about myself.”

“Yeah, you’re kind of a jackass.”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah. No worries about losing the money though. People have been trailing in here non-stop because they thought we closed for a bit because something happened to you. Y’know, in your fragile, elderly state.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, it’s a shame the fire didn’t burn your hair off. You look like a frickin’ hippy.”

Aaron laughed harder. “Maybe for your birthday. You’ve only got so many left, after all.”

“Shame it didn’t burn your mouth off, too.”

They iced in silence for a moment before Stanley spoke up again.

“Hey, once we’re in the clear again and have enough money saved up, I think you gave me an idea for our next spot, Aaron.”

—

Cody cautiously opened the door.

“Hey Milo?” He asked. “Dad and Miranda want to know if you would rather have sparkling red grape juice or sparkling…red grape juice?”

Milo looked up from his project.

“…What?”

“We’re out of white, but the red are different brands.” Cody said.

“I… got that. I meant why, I guess.”

“Oh! Dad and Miranda, uh. Do this dinner thing on special occasions. They get Italian takeout and wine, light a bunch of candles and pretend it’s all fancy. They started getting the grape juice, so I feel included and junk.”

“Huh.” Milo picked up the duck tape. “Sorry, I…uh. Does this look right to you?”

Cody stepped into the room and flicked on the light.

“It looks like…holy cow, are you done?”

Milo held Jake’s guitar close, fidgeting with the neck.

“Almost, I think! The top part needs a little more tape and junk.” Milo set the guitar down gently on the bed. “How does it look?”

The guitar was, truthfully, an amalgamation of glue and tape, but it was the first time Cody had seen it in one piece in months. All the strings were fixed, the paint that could be reapplied was, and it seemed finally whole. Cody walked up and smiled, taking in the details of the guitar.

As soon as he looked up, though, the smile fell in an instant.

“Milo?”

“Hmm?”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“For more than two hours?”

“…That’s not fair.” Milo rubbed his eyes as if trying to wipe away the bags. “’Sides, look how far I got!”

“Milo, that’s cool and all, but—”

“Cody, you know this is important to me.”

“Yes, but at our age we need ten-to-twelve hours of sleep.” Cody sighed. “Milo…I’m worried about you. You’re all pale, and…you look like you’re starting to get sick. Sleep is–”

“I can’t sleep, okay?!” Milo balled his fists. “I tried. I really, really tried. I know it’s important. I just…can’t.”

Cody grabbed some tissues and sat down on the other side of the bed, trying not to jostle the guitar. He reached over and handed a tissue to Milo, who immediately began wiping away the rapidly-beading tears.

“Not like I can tell Dad, right?” Milo laughed dryly.

Cody forced a smile.

“Well, you can soon, right? That’s what we’re celebrating. Dan is finally getting his wires out. He’ll be able to eat for real soon and his teeth were all fixed and the surgery went well-he’s in the clear! It’s your last night with us with Dan hurt. Everything’s going back to normal.”

“‘Cept it won’t.” Milo muttered. “One of my dads is still gone and hasn’t made even a little bit of a sign to say he’s out there. And I saw the other- Cody, I don’t ever want to see Dan like that again. I…”

“Daniel Fuller, sit down!”

Dan whipped his head around from beside his hospital bed, looking dazedly at the IVs he ripped out and back up at Reese.

“Whhh…” Dan’s mouth felt like it was full of cotton. That felt correct given the circumstances, but he couldn’t remember exactly why.

Reese sighed and began walking across the room to guide him back to the hospital bed.

She forced a slight smile as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“…Welcome back to the world of the living.”

Finally, it clicked as Reese began putting back in the IVs. If Reese was here, then he was at the hospital. And if he was at the hospital…

“Whirrrrrr…is Ja’e?” Dan asked. “Mi’o?”

Reese frowned and looked to the other member of the room. Milo was looking back at Dan with wide, puffy eyes. His cheeks were streaked and stained with tears. He was holding something up with his sweatshirt, keeping it tight to his chest.

Milo stood up, taking a step toward Dan, wanting nothing more than to lunge at his dad and cry for hours. However, the movement seemed to remind Milo about what he was holding onto and he tensed up again.

Dan looked at Milo worriedly. He moved to to get up again, but Reese gave him a stern look.

“That’s enough, Mr. Fuller.” She watched him as he hesitantly scooted back into the bed. “You were concussed something fierce, not to mention the broken jaw and fractured cheekbone. You are going to stay still until at least the swelling goes down so we can do surgery.”

That was right. He and Aaron went to Donna’s old house. The rest was kind of fuzzy, but Dan was pretty sure Jake ended up being there. Milo was left with Cody. And now Dan and Milo were both at the hospital.

“It’s weird treating you and not Milo. You’re usually the safe one,” Reese forced a faint smile. She looked at Milo for a moment and back to Dan. “I have to go do rounds, but I’ll be right back. Just- please. Stay still. There’s the call button if you need me.”

Dan absentmindedly touched the bandage around his face while looking over Milo carefully. Milo seemed beyond upset, but not physically hurt. Dan sighed in relief and sank back into the hospital bed. He closed his eyes without realizing it, and jerked back awake from the movement on the other side of the room.

“Dad.” Milo sniffled, holding on to what was in his sweatshirt in one hand and wiping tears and snot off his face with the other. “Dad, Dad, I’m so sorry. I couldn’t-“

Milo was cut off by Dan wordlessly cupping a hand (the free one, the other was resting with the IVs) on the side of his face, silently wiping some of Milo’s tears away.

“Mi’o.” Dan said again, this time quieter but equally as desperate. He looked at his son intensely, desperate to say more and comfort him but not about to test the waters with Reese any further.

They looked at each other for a moment before Milo ripped his gaze away. Without another word, he dumped the splinters of Jake’s guitar onto Dan’s bed.

To Dan’s credit, he didn’t scream or wail like Milo feared he might—or like what Milo felt like doing. In fact, other than a faint gasp, Dan was so quiet that Milo had to force himself to turn around from the comfort of looking at the wall.

Dan was holding part of the neck, eyes wide. Tears were pooling up and spilling down his cheeks, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He gently nudged one of the pieces aside, looking at the scope of the damage.

The only response from the anchor- the thing keeping Jake with them- was a pitiful and faint cyan glow before fading out entirely.

Dan tightened his grip on the piece he was holding and began to tremble.

He didn’t scream or wail. Instead he cried quietly, holding the remaining pieces of his best friend. Milo wasn’t sure how long he watched Dan cry. Milo cried too, sure, but it felt strange. Dan, Dan Milo’s father, Dan the strong, Dan the one who had to keep it together so long for both Jake and Milo.

Neither talked much except occasional choked off apologies or reassurances. After awhile, it seemed to wear Dan out significantly. He fell asleep holding Milo’s hand in one hand and the same piece of the guitar in the other. Milo gathered up most of the pieces with his free hand, trying not to wake Dan up.

And when Reese came back, she didn’t comment on the broken guitar in the bed or report Milo staying past visiting hours, sleeping by Dan’s side.

And when Milo woke up with an additional blanket on his shoulders, his father fast and deep asleep still from painkillers, he didn’t say anything, either. But neither forgot.

“-ilo? Milo?”

“Hm?” Milo shook his head of the memory, trying to clear it like an Etch-a-sketch.

“I lost you for a second.” Cody offered more tissues, and Milo was shocked to realize how many tears were streaming down his cheeks.

“Sorry, I thought I was done with…all this.” Milo scrubbed at his eyes and wiped his nose

They sat in silence for a moment. The only sounds were Milo’s stifled sniffling and the gentle hum of the heater.

“It’s…okay to be upset. It was scary.” Cody sighed. “But you can always talk about it, ya know? It’s been fun with you being here more– though the situation isn’t great– and I just wish… I don’t know.”

Cody scratched the back of his neck and looked away.

“Make sure to take care of yourself too, Milo.”

Milo was silent for a moment before picking up the tape again and pulling the guitar into his lap. He ripped off a piece of duck tape and firmly wrapped it around the neck of the guitar.

“I know.” He finally responded quietly. “‘Sides, even if I didn’t, I think you would- I don’t know.”

“Post a ‘Milo cringe compilation everyday until Milo eats like a human?’”

“I dunno, I’d have to be embarrassed first for it to be cringe.” Milo laughed. “I wasn’t eating like a human before, anyway.”

“What about a ‘Cody snitches and tells Tegan, who won’t leave it alone’ kind of thing?’”

Milo gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Nah, that’d be low. Even for me.” Cody leaned back before grinning. “Maybe…summoning an ancient god to hex you for your hubris until you get a full night’s sleep?”

“Actually, that’s your closest yet.” Milo smiled back. “But where’ll you get the tome?”

“Ah. Rats.” Cody snapped his fingers. “You got me there. For now.”

“You’ll find a way.” Milo yawned. “Always do.”

“Heh.”

The two sat in quiet for a moment as Cody watched Milo tinker with the guitar.

“I…think it’s finally sturdy.”

Milo gently handed the guitar for Cody to look over. Cody ran his fingers along the cracks and seems, before holding it as if to play. He then looked at it again before beaming at Milo.

“Milo, you did it!” Cody handed it back. “It looks great.”

“Thanks!” He took the guitar back and began gently picking at a piece of glue that obtruded above the crack it fixed. “All that’s left is tuning it, I think. I think.”

“Now would be a good time to take a break.” Cody got up from the bed. “Dinner’s been here and ready. I just came up here to ask about the grape juice.”

“I…either’s fine? I guess?”

“Does that mean you’ll come down?”

Milo looked away and held the guitar close.

“Milo-“

“I just need to tune it. I already found tutorials online.” Milo smiled tiredly. “I’ll come down when I’m done, okay? And that’s it.”

“…Promise?”

“I promise.”

Cody sighed and stood up. He hugged Milo briefly before heading to the door.

“…Your plate will be in the fridge.”

Cody stepped out of the room and headed to the kitchen. Cody couldn’t bring himself to meet Dom’s hopeful eyes.

“Milo’s not coming.”

—-

“-Then let’s hear how it sounds all together! If you don’t have a pick, for a gentler sound, strum your guitar using your thumb like this!” The grainy figure adjusted their camera slightly before demonstrating a simple thumb. “My dad taught me this trick when I was-“

“Yeuch.” Milo shut his phone off before the tutorial could finish and flopped back onto the bed.

He rubbed his eyes, wishing he shut the light back off when Cody left. He lay like that for a moment and counting his breath, hands gently pressed into his eyes until he saw the slightest bursts of stars.

Finally, Milo shot up and began flapping his arm nervously, trying to calm down.

“Okay, okay. Okay.” He took a deep breath and grabbed the guitar. “Dad, I dunno if you can hear me, but if this doesn’t work- if this doesn’t work, I’m going to take a break for a bit, okay? I’ll come back, but I’m beginning to think Cody’s right, and- okay.”

Milo held the guitar like how he saw in the video and took deep breaths in and out.

“Okay. On the count of three.”

“One-“ Milo lifted his hand shakily and held it just above the chords.

“Two.” He took a quick shallow breath, meaning to do the exact opposite.

“Three.”

Milo strummed the guitar. There was the sound of glass breaking and a bright cyan light engulfed his vision.

—-

The guitar was ripped away before Milo could realize what was happening.

It floated to the middle of the room, where it hovered before a figure formed around it. The figure, entirely blank other than vaguely humanoid, hesitated before quickly taking on their features. First was a neat burial suit, followed by tired eyes and a shock of blonde hair.

In a matter of seconds, there was Jake.

Jake collapsed to the floor, holding on to the guitar strapped to his chest like a lifeline, and took a deep and unnecessary breath. His hand moved from the guitar to grab at his unmoving chest. He gasped again before starting to get up.

“Dad?” Milo tried to blink some of the blotches out of his eyes.

“Milo-“ Jake started, but Milo had already jumped off the bed and bounded toward him.

Jake instinctively raised his arms to hold Milo in the embrace, but they phased right through Milo. The guitar stopped Milo from going through him entirely, which caused Milo to gently lay a hand on it as be began breathing faster and faster.

“Sorry,” Jake started. He cringed slightly at the echo effect of his voice. “I don’t think I’m all the way back yet-“

“Dad, I’m so sorry for fighting with you and saying you’re not my dad, and for making you feel like you can’t tell me stuff, and I’m sorry for taking so long to fix this and for the haunted house and for talking back to you and-“

“Breathe.” Jake smiled softly and got as close as he could to wrapping his arms around Milo. Milo shuddered for a second at the cold sensation rather than the feeling of touch. “Milo, you did so, so great.”

“But I- but I…” Milo trailed off and burst into tears.

The two stood in the mock hug for a moment, Milo’s hand not leaving the guitar. Jake waited until Milo’s breathing evened out somewhat into a quiet hiccup.

“You brought me back.” Jake reached up and held his hand as if he were cupping Milo’s cheek. “You put back together the guitar—that’s incredible! You’re incredible, Milo.”

“Yeah.” Milo sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Yeah! Take that, Cody! Sleep is for the weak!”

Jake chuckled.

“I don’t know about that.“ He cleared his throat. “Im fact, I think sleep might be up there in the whole ‘human needs’ thing. When’s the last time you slept?”

He sighed in relief as the echo effect dissipated, pulling back slightly to take in Milo’s expression.

“Boo, not you too.” Milo pouted. “Cody and Dad have been getting on my case nonstop already.”

“Well, they’re right. I…” Jake looked away. “How…is Dan doing, by the way?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s getting his stitches out today!” Milo smiled for a moment before his expression fell into confusion. “That’s why I’m at Cody’s. Uh, here at Cody’s. I guess.”

“Uh-“ Jake blinked in surprise.

“Did…you really were gone, huh?”

Jake scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor, still somewhat surprised by the realization he wasn’t in their house.

“Not gone. It was like-“ He shook his head. “I don’t know how to describe it, but not gone. And just now, Milo, you made the door to bring me back here.”

Jake held up the guitar and smiled.

“I could feel you, though. Whenever you touched this, Milo, I knew it was you. And Cody sometimes. But Dan…” He trailed off and the smile vanished entirely.

“I think he’s been having trouble.”

“Oh.”

“He missed you a lot.”

Jake laughed dryly and looked away again.

“Well, I missed him too. I missed all of you so much.”

Overcome with the need to ease the tension to the point he was nearly vibrating, Milo quickly replied.

“Not as much as Cody’s gonna miss his window!”

“What? Oh- oh my god.”

Jake stood up quickly to get a better look at the blown-out window.

“Did I do that? Or did you do that?”

“Definitely you. You know, this time.” Milo followed suit and peered around Jake to take in the scene. “You exploded before you came back. There was a bright light and boom, you knocked out the window. It’s…weird no one came up to check on the noise.”

“I will definitely make sure that gets fixed.” Jake walked over to sit on the bed. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair before absentmindedly fiddling with the tuning pegs of the guitar.

Milo hesitated before sitting on the bed beside him.

“…Was I close to doing it right?”

“You were really close. It just needs a little more tweaking, but I can’t say it enough-the fact you fixed this without me teaching you about the parts of a guitar, the way you fixed all the pieces together- you’re incredible, Milo. And I’m so, so proud of you.”

“Thanks.” Milo yawned. “I think it’s dumb that you can sit on furniture but you can’t hug me after being gone for like three months.”

“It has to do with affecting the environment versus affecting a person.”

“Hmm.”

“Environment comes first.”

“You sound a lot like Cody.” Milo scooted back so his back was to the wall.

“He taught me everything I know. Which is pretty ironic if you think about it.” Jake stopped tuning and looked out of the corner of his eye at Milo. “You never answered my question. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night, technically.”

“I can’t say it enough how proud I am of you for this and being brave,” Jake fully turned to get a better look at his son. Milo turned away. “But that’s not the answer I was hoping to hear.”

“I know. I just haven’t been able to with, you know, everything going on.”

They sat quietly before Jake grinned.

“When you were little-really little, you’d fall asleep right away if I played for you.” Jake turned his gaze back to the guitar. “You’d always sneak out of bed and say you were going to get a snack, or use the bathroom, or get a glass of water, but instead you’d go play with your toys.”

Jake looked around the room and locked eyes with a video game ghost plush in the corner. “Now, you sneak out of bed and come here if you can’t sleep.”

“What can I say? I’m a sucker for tradition.”

Jake laughed and Milo cracked a tired grin back.

“You should play.” Milo said. “If you want.”

Jake hesitated before adjusting the guitar slightly as if to play it. He got his fingers over the chord and before stopping jerkily.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Milo quickly added.

Jake nodded and played a few chords, expression falling to that of focus as he tried to get the feel again. After some more nitpicking with the tuning pegs, he began to tentatively pluck out more notes.

He looked back over at Milo and the bags under his eyes.

“You’re sure it’s not going to make you fall asleep?”

“I promise it’s not. I’m fourteen, remember?”

Jake’s grin came back with full force.

“Oh, of course.”

Without another word, he began plucking out a lullaby from a decade prior. The room was silent save for the gentle music, the house almost seeming to have emptied itself to make room for the sound itself.

Learning an effective lullaby after the much louder and angrier Problem Sons was tricky. However, it was nowhere as tricky as an energetic toddler—or, beyond that, losing Milo Sr.

Once Jake was comfortable enough repeating the chords of the chorus, he began to sing. His voice soft and hoarse from disuse and his eyes never left the guitar as the melody played.

By the time he was finished, he took a breath and turned slightly to gauge Milo’s reaction.

Of course, it was an unnecessary measure. Jake chuckled and stood up, slinging the guitar around to his back.

“You shouldn’t make promises you don’t think you can keep.” Jake whispered to Milo’s sleeping form.

He gently brushed the hair out of Milo’s face and kissed his forehead.

“Goodnight, Milo.”

The young woman shuffled in the room holding two mugs, still shaking slightly from the events that unfolded months prior. She offered a cup to her guest and took the other before sitting on the couch.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call,” she said. She took a long drink from the coffee and took a deep breath.

“You’re quite alright.” The guest fiddled with an unlit cigar. “You’ve been such a help for us. I’d love to return the favor any way I can, though I can’t say the same for your husband.”

“I know, but you’ll do it for me, right?” The woman looked up hopefully, holding her breath for the response.

“Ghosts are typically not something the Church helps with. Demons, sure-but ghosts?”

The priest set down the coffee mug and stood up, walking around the room and looking at the pictures that hung the walls. He stopped at the painted portrait of the Virgin Mary and sighed.

“Even if it was something we normally helped with, it’s been months.”

“I know.” The woman sniffled and set down her coffee mug to grab a fistful of tissues. “It’s just- I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m still scared of it coming back-it used this fire, and while it didn’t burn anything inside, it still was bright blue and real and- did you know the house that used to be here burned down? What if it was the ghost? We can’t afford to move again-what if it comes after us this time?”

“Calm down. Take a deep breath. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it.”

The woman obeyed, taking in a lungful of air and holding it until the priest spoke again.

“Your family has been in our church for decades. I cannot emphasize this enough- this is not something we can normally do. But-“ He sighed and scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I will do it for you, just for you, and just because it’s you.”

“Oh, thank you-“

The priest interrupted.

“I fully believe the ghost is no longer within this building. However, for your ease of mind, I promise I will track it down if it’s still on this plane and send it to its rightful place.”

He stuck the cigar in his mouth, chewing a bit at the mouthpiece while thinking. “Therefore, we need to know more about it. You said this place burned down before?”

“Yes. It was completely destroyed. The owner sold the property immediately after. We bought it from her and built the new house.”

“She might know something; I’d be happy to reach out to her and get this started. Do you happen to have her name?”

“I took out the house information as soon as I heard you were coming.” The woman responded.

She went to the dining room before returning with a handful of papers. She dug through them before coming across the deed.

“Oh! Here we go. That’s right.” She looked up and smiled at the priest, waving the sheet of paper.

“It was Ms. Donna Pierly.”

#ASJFKLSDHFLSADHGLSADKFLKSDAHGASBFKDSAKLFHSITESABFJLVFSSAIUFALSBJFKLSAJFHSDAHFLSDFJsd #ITS HERE #ITS HERE AND MY HEART HURTS NOW THANK U SO MUCH #I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE YOU AND I M SCREAMIN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #WHAT A GOOD STORY DUDE LIKE...SERIOUSLY #but also how dare you end it like that you MONSTER #friend art #fics #ghost jake #submission

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years ago

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🌀 Storm Coming (A SKET Dance Fanfic) Chapter 3: A New Determination

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Previous Chapter

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That night, I tossed and turned, unable to grasp sleep for more than ten minutes as a time. Kevin’s words kept repeating in my mind like a ghostly echo. Being in a foreign bed, in a foreign country certainly didn’t help, either. So much had happened in such a short span of time and my body wasn’t handling it well. I wanted to go back to Florida. I wanted the comfort of my eight-year-old mattress and the cheetah print comforter my grandma had given me for my twelfth birthday. I wanted my room, with its dark walls covered in anime posters and random things I thought were cool at the time.

More than anything, I wanted security.

I rolled over onto my side. The red digits on the clock shined through the darkness like angry eyes. It’s only two in the morning? It felt like I had been lying here for ages. My gaze moved to the window. The tan shade had been pulled down, covering all but a small portion of the glass at the bottom. From this angle, I could just make out the darkness outside.

I forced my eyes closed. I needed sleep. Without it, my anxiety would be even more out of control.

It felt like I was lying there for hours with my eyes closed, but I refused to open them, I refused to move. If my body wouldn’t co-operate, then I would force it to sleep.

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My eyes fluttered open but quickly closed at the bright light shining directly on them. Shit, why is the sun so friggin’ bright? I forced myself into a sitting position, glaring at the small stream of sunlight filtering through the uncovered section of window. Man, I really hate the sun. I glanced at the clock, taking in the numbers that glared at me. Seven-thirty… I guess five or six hours isn’t too bad.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the carpet soft against my bare feet. I stretched my arms above my head, stifling a yawn as I headed for the bathroom down the hall.

I tried to ignore the mirror on my left but it was huge and I found my eyes snapping to it like a magnet. My hair, as black a raven’s feathers, was sticking up in all directions and looked greasy even though I had taken a shower before bed. I briefly wondered if I had sleep-walked my finger into a light socket. There were bags under my eyes, a combination of stress and fitful sleep, my green eyes dull and tired.

I pinched my cheeks, tugging them away from my face before releasing. My face is round and chubby, like a soccer ball. My nose is big, my eyebrows are bushy. I glanced down at my body, poking my stomach that had the quality of jello. Most Japanese high schoolers are thin and pretty, aren’t they?

I hung my head, turning the water on as I washed my face. I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb in class.

My eyes widened. W-Wait a minute… I’m talking like I’m going back to school… had I made up my mind without even realizing it? I looked back at the mirror, surprised to see the determination in my eyes. I gripped the edge of the sink, my mind made up. I wouldn’t let this chance slip by me!

When I stepped out of the bathroom, the smell of eggs and bacon reached my nose, making my stomach whine. Kevin was at the kitchen sink washing the dishes. Two plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, rice, and toast were sitting on the living room table, covered by plastic wrap to keep them warm.

“Good morning…” I said softly.

He smiled over his shoulder at me, turning the water off and drying his hands on the dishtowel perched on his shoulder. “Morning, Sammy. Did you sleep okay?”

Not at all, but I didn’t want to tell him that, so I just nodded. He motioned for me to take a seat before pouring out two glasses of orange juice and setting them on the table before sitting to my left.

“Were you… waiting on me?” I questioned.

“Of course! A family should always eat together!” He smiled, sticking his index finger in the air.

Together? My brow furrowed as I carefully unpeeled the plastic wrap from the plate. I couldn’t remember a time when mom and I had eaten together. Rarely did we cook our own food because she was always busy and I couldn’t be trusted not to burn down the house, so we usually just ate TV dinners or canned food. Occasionally she’d bring home some fast food, but we usually took it and went to our own rooms. There were no set meal times – we just ate whenever we felt hungry.

When was the last time either of us had even sat at the kitchen table?

I glanced at Kevin, who clapped his hands in front of him (“Itadakimasu!”) before digging into the food. Judging from his joyous expression, he really loved food, both cooking and eating it.

He noticed my gaze and frowned, lowering his plate. “Do you not like eggs? Alissa didn’t say anything about food preferences. I should have asked, but I was a bit… blown away at the time.”

“Ah, no… no, sorry.” I bowed my head and took a spoonful of eggs into my mouth. W-What is this… I’ve never tasted eggs that tasted this incredible before. I didn’t even know eggs could be this good, I didn’t know that someone could change the flavor of eggs so drastically. Without hesitation, I began to shovel the rest of the food into my mouth.

Kevin laughed and I froze. The flavor of the food had made me forget he was there. God, I must look like a pig. “I’m glad you enjoy my cooking. It’s something I’ve always prided myself on.” He took a long gulp of the juice before setting it back down, his hand lingering on the glass. “I was really worried about it. Alissa let me walk into this completely blind. She didn’t tell me what food you like or dislike, she didn’t mention any allergies either. It’s pretty important, so I assumed you didn’t have any, but I chose eggs because the likely hood of being allergic to those is very low.”

I lowered my spoon as I glanced at him. I thought I had been the only one that was going mad with worry about this situation, not wanting to step on his toes or burden him, but… he had been worrying about it, too, he just hid it better than I did. We’re complete strangers living under the same roof… we’re on the same playing field.

“I… I don’t mind eggs,” I mumbled, shifting slightly. “I… I hate onions, but onion powder doesn’t bother me. I can eat onion rings, though… mom always said that was weird.”

“The cheeseburgers last night had onions on them.” He stated, softly. “But you ate them because you didn’t want to upset me.”

I nodded, taking the last spoonful of eggs.

“Well, no more of that. I want you to feel comfortable being honest with me, no matter what it is, and I’ll do the same to you. Is that a deal?”

I chewed, thoughtfully for a moment. “So… If I become… too much for you, you’ll tell me… right?”

Kevin smiled softly, resting his hand on my arm. “You will never become ‘too much’ for me. Did you know I’ve always wanted a child? But I wanted to wait until I was financially stable and had gotten married. That way, my kid would grow up with two loving parents in a stable home. I didn’t want my child to grow up in a broken home like I did.” He paused, his thumb rubbing over my skin. “I’m not sure what came over me that night, the night I met your mom. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, the confidence she exuded.”

I studied his face as multiple emotions flickered through his eyes as he recalled the memory of that night.

“She was flirting with me all night and showed a genuine interest in me and my life. At one point, she even told me that she could picture us getting married and having a family.”

I held back a scoff at that comment. One thing my mom would never allow was for her to be tied down to a man. She loved the attention, but she refused to be in a relationship. There were always men asking her out, asking for her hand, but she always turned them down. To be honest, I’m surprised she kept me. I briefly wondered if she had tried to get rid of me but failed. I didn’t linger on that thought.

“I was a bit tipsy and completely smitten… After that night, I didn’t see her again, but we kept in contact over the phone. I tried to meet up with her several times, but she always had some excuse as to why she couldn’t see me. Eventually, I gave up on thinking we could have something, but I couldn’t bring myself to completely cut her out.” His eyes met mine and I saw the warmth and sadness in their depths. “I’m glad I didn’t because I might not have met you.”

My eyes widened as tears began to well up in his eyes.

“To think that I had a beautiful daughter all this time. I… I missed your first steps, your first words. I wasn’t there to comfort you, to protect you, to let you know that you were loved and wanted.”

Tears fell down my cheeks, matching the tracks against his own.

“I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me the most…”

I don’t know what came over me, but my body acted on its own. I flung myself at him, clutching tightly onto his shirt like my life depended on the contact. I sobbed into his chest, his arms holding me close. Even though he was crying, too, he still comforted me, telling me it would be okay.

“I-I-It’s not your – your f-fault,” I sobbed.

His grip tightened. “I promise you, Samantha, I will make up for the lost time. I will protect and comfort you when you cry. I’ll be here for you, always and forever.”

“I-I promise that I will… I will change!” And in that moment, for the first time in my life, I felt confident that I could change, that I would change.

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“You can do it tomorrow?” Kevin glanced at me and I nodded nervously. “Tomorrow works for us, thank you so much for this, Karamatsu-san. See you soon!” He hung up the phone and smiled at me. “Okay, he’s going to set up the placement test for you.”

I nodded again, feeling my chest growing cold as my anxiety started to grip my heart. Now that it had been finalized, I was beginning to have second thoughts. I wasn’t sure if I could do this. I wasn’t even that smart, there’s no way I could pass.

A warm hand rested on my shoulder and I met Kevin’s warm eyes. “Don’t worry, you’ll do fine. I believe in you, now you just have to believe in yourself.”

Believing in myself was a subject I most definitely failed at, but… I didn’t want to let Kevin down. He had done so much for me in the short time I had known him, and he was so happy to have me in his life despite the trouble that I bring. I… I want to make him proud.

“I… I’m going to go study!” I announced, jumping up and heading to my room. I sat at my desk, opening my laptop, but I could only stare at the text entry field on the browser. What the hell am I supposed to search for? I typed in ‘placement test’ and got a bunch of results for college so I added ‘high school’ to the end. Several practice quizzes came up.

I clicked on the first one. Let’s see how bad this goes…

After about twenty minutes, fifteen questions and a bad headache, I finished the online test. I hovered the mouse over the results button but hesitated. What if I got them all wrong? No, I’m not a complete idiot, I had to have done decent… right?

I clicked the button and the results came up. Eight right and seven wrong. I winced at those numbers. Most of the questions I had gotten wrong had been math questions – my worst subject. I would be able to pass the test with this? I guess… even if I fail it’s not the worst thing in the world. I’ll still be allowed in as a first-year.

With a sigh, I grabbed a notebook from the drawer and began to search for free online study materials. I didn’t have much time, but I was determined to learn at least something before tomorrow.

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imagitory · 5 years ago

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D-Views: The Princess and the Frog (with guest input!)

Hi everybody! Welcome to another installment of D-Views, my on-going written review series focused around the works of the Walt Disney Company, as well as occasionally films made by other studios that were influenced by Disney’s works! For reviews for Disney films like Mary Poppins, The Little Mermaid, and Treasure Planet or non-Disney films like Anastasia, The Nutcracker Prince, or The Prince of Egypt, please consult my “Disney reviews” tag!

I’m super excited about today’s subject -- not only is its heroine my favorite Disney princess, but I also won’t be watching the movie alone! My darling mum, who has in the past helped me review Harry Potter and the Cursed Child, has graciously agreed to co-review this with me! We hope that you will join us on this magical adventure through the Louisiana bayou as we review...The Princess and the Frog!

In the early 2000′s, the Walt Disney Company -- especially its animation department -- was in trouble. Of all of the films done in the so-called “Experimental Era,” the only animated film that had made Disney a real profit was 2002′s Lilo and Stitch. The others, even if they did manage to receive favorable reviews, were all financial disappointments. The Emperor’s New Groove was fourth at the box office opening weekend behind movies like What Women Want and How the Grinch Stole Christmas and only grossed about 169 million dollars in theaters worldwide after costing 100 million to make. Brother Bear even now boasts a rather sad 37% rating at Rotten Tomatoes. And even if Atlantis: The Lost Empire hadn’t received such lukewarm reviews and been accused of plagiarizing several other movies (most notably Nadia: The Secret of the Blue Water, Stargate, and, as I’ve discussed previously, Castle in the Sky), it wouldn’t have changed the fact that it was released the same year as Dreamworks’ green monster hit Shrek. But no Experimental Era film did as badly as the last one -- Home on the Range -- which after its release in 2004 was so badly received both by critics and at the box office that it prompted Disney to write down the production costs and announce the closing of its 2D animation department for good.

But it didn’t close for good. In 2006, the new president and chief creative officer of the company, Ed Cadmill and John Lasseter, reversed the decision. The 2D animation department had one last chance to turn their dark destiny around, and in 2009, as Disney did after World War II with Cinderella and in the late 80′s with The Little Mermaid, it pinned its hopes on a beautiful, goodhearted princess.

The Princess and the Frog in some ways was Disney’s attempt to return to their Disney Renaissance roots. Its directors -- John Musker and Ron Clements -- had previously directed The Little Mermaid and Aladdin among others. The reinvented fairy tale story features magic, a theatrical villain, a prince, animal sidekicks, romance, and Broadway-musical-style songs. Even the advertising highlighted how much it wanted to remind millennial audiences of the films they grew up with, putting a spotlight on the music and beautiful hand-drawn animation, rather than the “adult,” meta humor that Dreamworks had used to advertise its films and Disney later used to advertise its next Disney princess movie, Tangled. Some production details leaked to the public, such as the title of “The Frog Princess,” the main character’s original name, and her profession as a chambermaid, also were edited upon receiving backlash, and still others (such as the use of voodoo in the plot and our black princess’s prince not being black) were just left as is. Despite all of the negative press that swirled around the project, there was also a lot of promise that Disney fans noted too, such as Dreamgirls supporting actress Anika Noni Rose being cast as Tiana, Pixar composer Randy Newman being chosen to write the film’s score and songs, and Oprah Winfrey being brought on both as a technical consultant and the voice of Tiana’s mother Eudora.

The marketing decision to focus more on nostalgic millennial adults rather than the new Generation Z is what I feel largely contributed to The Princess and the Frog not being the blockbuster Disney was hoping for. As much as I wholeheartedly believe that animation is not and has never been a children’s medium, the attitude that lingered around the public consciousness in the late 2000′s and sadly even today is that animation -- most importantly, 2D animation -- is for kids, and without the kids being just as excited to watch the film as their nostalgic parents, uncles, aunts, and older siblings, The Princess and the Frog was fighting an uphill battle, even if it was produced by a marketing monster like Disney. Even though the movie was handicapped by this bad marketing choice, however, I would still argue that The Princess and the Frog was a success. Even with that bad marketing choice, the racism-themed controversies that had swirled around its production, and the release of James Cameron’s blockbuster Avatar a week later weighing it down, Tiana costumes were selling out everywhere prior to Halloween that year. The movie still was #1 at the box office opening weekend, an honor not held by a Disney animated movie since Lilo and Stitch. It still made $104.4 million and was the fifth highest grossing film that year. It still earned pretty favorable reviews, earning an 85% at Rotten Tomatoes.

Sadly, because The Princess and the Frog wasn’t the big blockbuster that The Little Mermaid had been, Disney turned its focus more toward its 3D projects, and after the release of Winnie the Pooh in 2011 (the same weekend as Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2 -- COME ON, DISNEY, WERE YOU EVEN TRYING TO GIVE THIS FILM A CHANCE??), the 2D department did close its doors after all, and the studio went in a new direction with the release of Tangled. It’s a choice I lament Disney making, for as much as I’ve enjoyed most of the 3D entries to the Disney Revival, there was something so utterly magical about seeing The Princess and the Frog’s premiere at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank with my mother back in 2009. 2D animation is a beautiful art form, and it’s frustrating that Disney has turned its back on it so thoroughly after it got Disney to where it is now. The Princess and the Frog could’ve been the Great Mouse Detective to another 2D film that could’ve been a Little Mermaid and proved once again that 2D animation is for everyone, not just for kids, just as Little Mermaid did. But instead, the film that was the Revival version of The Little Mermaid was Disney’s first 3D princess film, Tangled -- and not to diss Tangled as a film, but it saddens me that it succeeded largely by playing to the public’s ignorant attitude that 3D animation is more “adult” than 2D animation and that the way to communicate that your animated movie is “for adults too” in your trailers is through using snarky meta humor rather than through artistry and complex themes.

With all this background out of the way...laissez le beau temps rouler! Let’s start the film!

Anika’s singing voice starting our film out is just a perfect introduction. Its pure, unassuming tone just ripples with sincerity as we are led into our introductory scene for our main character Tiana, her mother Eudora, and her absolutely hysterical best friend, Charlotte “Lottie” La Bouff. As we leave the La Bouff manor, we also see a touch of the “Lady and the Tramp influence” that Musker and Clements added to the production in the background design. Just by transitioning from the well-kept, affluent neighborhood in the dimming sunlight to the more run-down areas of town at night, we get a perfect, complete sense of the environment that our heroine lives in, all without any dialogue. And yet, as Mum pointed out, even the rundown areas are full of warmth and charm. Just like in Lady and the Tramp, they never look scary or shady, simply modest and maybe a little worn. On the note of charm, as well, I absolutely friggin’ adore Tiana’s dad, James. Considering how big of a role he has in the story, it’s really good that we see how big of an impact he had on his daughter through his good, hard-working attitude and love for his family and neighborhood despite not having much screen-time.

Once the “Walt Disney Pictures” banner floats by, we finally meet Tiana as an adult. As mentioned earlier, Tiana is my favorite Disney princess. Part of the reason why comes back to the fact that Tiana’s movie came out right before I started my first job (ironically enough at a restaurant in Disney World) and she inspired me to give 120% everyday, but the other reason Tiana speaks to me so much is because she reminds me quite a bit of Mum! Like my mother, Tiana is a very warmhearted, logical, and hardworking person who never sits on her laurels and is always ready to fix a problem, and it was really cool to see a Disney princess with the same kind of organized mind and stubborn work ethic that I saw in my mum growing up. That feeling I had watching Tiana’s story is one of the things that inspired me to write my Disney crossover story TrueMagic, where I wrote a character directly inspired by Mum. On top of all that, I realize that Tiana speaks a lot of the millennial and gen Z experience, having to save up a lot of money at two dead-end minimum wage jobs just to try to get ahead in a world where the cards are stacked against her. We even see her sleeping in the room she grew up in, meaning she’s still living at home as an adult to make ends meet!! Isn’t that relatable!!

I have heard others critique Randy Newman’s music, but in my opinion the score and songs developed for this movie perfectly set the mood of 1920′s New Orleans. The opening number “Down in New Orleans” is really well-paced with the medley of scenes introducing Tiana’s usual work day, Dr. Facilier’s vindictiveness and desire for Eli La Bouff’s wealth, Naveen’s playboy attitude, and Charlotte’s instant attraction to the newly arrived Prince. Of the songs, I’d personally cite Tiana’s “Almost There” and Facilier’s “Friends on the Other Side” as the strongest links, with “Gonna Take You There” as the weakest, but even if you don’t end up finding the songs catchy, I don’t think anyone can deny how well it suits the film’s setting.

Now admittedly, one critique you could give the film is its idealized, whitewashed view of historical race relations. Let’s be honest: in the 1920′s, a rich cotton baron like Eli La Bouff would not have visited a cafe on Tiana’s side of town and he would not let his precious daughter engage with Tiana as an adult either. As much as there were people who didn’t follow the common attitude that black Americans were somehow “inferior” to white Americans, if you didn’t follow that attitude, you couldn’t have expected to be very financially successful or influential in such a racist society, as Mr. La Bouff is. On top of that, Tiana would not only be facing passive prejudice when trying to open her own restaurant, like the kind the Fenner brothers express about her “background” -- she would also be likely facing active discrimination and potentially violence. As much as this film doesn’t truly represent the way things were back then, however, I would argue that the decision in the end benefits the picture, which clearly is supposed to be a fairy tale. This is a story where a girl kisses a frog, becomes one herself, meets an alligator who plays the blues and a firefly in love with a star, and both fights against and alongside people who practice voodoo. It may have a historical backdrop, kind of like Pocahontas and The Great Mouse Detective do, but it is still a fantasy. There are other films that aim to teach us about how things really were back then, so why can’t we have one where a young black American lives her own fairy tale in the iconic Crescent City? Plus, in Mum’s words, an integral part of this story is the pure, unlikely friendship between Charlotte and Tiana, which would have been close to impossible in a completely historical setting. To my memory, it’s actually one of the few times we see a close friendship between two female contemporaries in a Disney princess movie -- the closest we’d had previously were relationships like Aurora with the three fairies (which was more of a familial relationship) and Belle and Mrs. Potts (which...yeah, big generation gap). Even in films that came later, we have Elsa and Anna, but they’re sisters, not just friends. And Tiana having a friend like Charlotte ends up being pivotal in her eventual triumph.

Speaking of Charlotte and her friendship with Tiana, something I love about her is that she doesn’t just give Tiana the money she needs to open her own restaurant. Instead, because she knows Tiana has pride and wouldn’t just accept the money for nothing, Charlotte finds a reason for her to give her the money she needs by assigning her the task of making beignets for the ball she and her father are hosting. It’s something that reminds me a bit of my mum and her best friend, who also comes from a wealthy family -- like Charlotte, my mum’s best friend likes spending money on my mum, but has always known that she can’t buy my mum’s friendship. Both she and Charlotte know that you can only be a friend through expressing sincere caring, which is the mark of a true friend.

Ever since The Princess and the Frog first came out, “Almost There” has been my work mantra, and every time I hear it, I just am full of drive and excitement. The animation for this sequence -- animated by senior Disney icon Eric Goldberg, who previously worked on the Rhapsody in Blue segment in Fantasia 2000 and was the supervising animator for the Genie in Aladdin -- is also pitch perfect, incorporating both Al Hiershfeld-inspired designs and an Art Deco vibe to envelope us in Tiana’s fantasy. It’s one of the kind of artistic risks that Disney used to do more often, like the Pink Elephants sequence in Dumbo, the fairy’s gift sequences in Sleeping Beauty, and the Zero to Hero sequence in Hercules, and you just don’t see this sort of highly stylized song sequence in most of Disney’s newer films. The only one that comes to mind is the “You’re Welcome” sequence in Moana, which ironically enough also featured Eric Goldberg drawing all of Maui’s “Mini-Maui” tattoos! Those sorts of stylized musical numbers is something I’d love to see more of in the Disney Revival, because it gives the film in question such character and can bring an already great song to new heights.

Naveen is a character who I could’ve very easily disliked upon first meeting him. Obnoxious, selfish, and/or vain characters -- such as Lightning McQueen from Cars or even Kuzco from The Emperor’s New Groove -- really tend to rub me the wrong way, unless there is something in the character at the very beginning that makes me want to see them improve themselves. Fortunately our main prince is saved for me because we see that along with his vain, shallow, playboy attitude, he also expresses a great love of music and living life to the fullest. He doesn’t ignore his responsibilities as a prince just to be rebellious or lazy, but because he is so in love with New Orleans and its culture. He isn’t an angry or willfully condescending person: he immediately starts dancing with regular New Orleans citizens and is enthralled with the moves of a tiny street entertainer. And just as Tiana represents the millennial experience through working multiple jobs just to make ends meet, Naveen expresses a different kind of millennial experience -- that of being so sheltered by one’s privilege that, once you’re on your own, you’re incapable of sustaining the life style you’ve become accustomed to and are led by society to believe you should be able to achieve. At this point, it’s still easy to feel sorry for Lawrence, Naveen’s resident “Peter Pettigrew-look-alike” manservant, though that impulse quickly disappears after we see his interactions with our villain, Dr. Facilier. Speaking of which...

Just as Tiana is my favorite Disney princess, Dr. Facilier is my favorite Disney villain. Voiced by Keith David, the man who previously gave life to Goliath in Disney’s Gargoyles, the so-called “Shadowman” is -- in Mum’s words -- just “deliciously evil.” His voice drips with cold charisma, dipping into rich bass tones but never sounding groggy or lacking in energy, and the animation -- done by Bruce W. Smith, supervising animator for Oscar Proud from the Disney Channel show The Proud Family -- just fits David’s line-reads like a glove. Although Lawrence briefly provokes Facilier, effectively foreshadowing his true viciousness, the witch doctor largely puts on a theatrical persona that entices even the most jaded viewers in with his song “Friends on the Other Side.” Mum brought up the wonderful comparison to Oogie Boogie in Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas, and just like Oogie Boogie, Facilier’s number feels very unscripted and spontaneous, and yet it’s still conniving. Even though the song is jazzy and oddly conversational, there’s this dangerous, sinister darkness echoing in the background, not just in the echoing voices of the Friends on the Other Side but in the lyrics with multiple meanings (”when I look into your future, it’s the green that I’ve seen”). Along with the theatricality, however, Facilier doesn’t forget to also be very intimidating as a villain -- the scene where he turns Naveen into a frog gets quite scary in its imagery.

Just as everything seems to have come up roses for her, Tiana is suddenly about to lose the restaurant of her dreams for good. But there is still hope -- or, at least...there’s a frog. Or a prince. A frog pri -- you get the point. Interestingly Naveen, while a frog, reminded Mum and me of two very different characters. Mum immediately thought of Aladdin, thanks to his charming, smiling expressions, while I immediately thought of another frog seeking a kiss from a beautiful girl: Jean-Bob from The Swan Princess. I personally think the second of those is a coincidence, given that Jean-Bob and Naveen really don’t have much in common excluding a flamboyant accent, but Aladdin’s influence on Naveen’s character animation is pretty reasonable. After all, Flynn Rider’s design was also influenced by previous Disney princes.

Not having seen this movie in a while, I’d forgotten about the “frog hunters” sequence in the middle of the movie until it came on screen. I know that Tiana and Naveen had to face multiple dangers before they reached Mama Odie, not just for dramatic storytelling but also to help cement their budding relationship...but I’m sorry, the characters of the frog hunters are just...uncomfortable. The stereotypical portrayal just comes across as very mean-spirited, especially when compared to the great respect for New Orleans culture in the rest of the movie. The scene does give Tiana and Naveen good character development, though, so it’s a flaw I can overlook to enjoy the rest of the movie.

Usually I don’t enjoy Disney “sidekick” characters as much as I do more developed main or side characters, but I will grant that as sidekicks go, Louis the alligator and especially Ray the firefly are among the better ones. Louis is kind of there for humor more than to advance the plot at all, which is a shame, but Ray becomes both ridiculously charming and central to the film’s theme of love when we see his romantic side in his song “Ma Belle Evangeline.” This song has special significance to Mum and me, all because of Mum’s little Russian Blue/Short-Hair kitty, Evangeline, or Eva for short. When Eva and her sister Ella (full name Cinderella) were being driven home from the pound, the two cats were absolutely beside themselves, crying and yowling the whole way. The only thing that quieted them was me singing songs to them, including songs based on their names -- Cinderella’s opening theme (”Cinderella, you’re as lovely as your name”) for Ella, and “Ma Belle Evangeline” for Eva. Even now, Eva knows that that song is her song, and she always relaxes whenever she hears it. The song sequence in the film also beautifully reflects Tiana and Naveen’s budding relationship, which has already affected them enough that they are starting to take influence from each other. Tiana has started to open up and have some fun, while Naveen is more able to acknowledge his shortcomings and takes more responsibility. They even see eye to eye enough that they stop Louis from telling Ray that Evangeline is a star, not a firefly. Tiana/Naveen is my Disney OTP mainly because of that influence that they have on each other. Both of them are such beautifully flawed characters, but they both also teach and encourage each other to be better people than they would have been on their own.

Tiana and Naveen learn that if they want to turn human again, they need help from Charlotte, who will be “princess” of the Mardi Gras Parade until midnight that night. Unfortunately, when Tiana finds Charlotte, she finds her about to marry who she thinks is Naveen on a float in the parade. Admittedly I kind of wonder why Tiana didn’t consider that it might not be Naveen, as earlier she saw a human Naveen dancing with Charlotte before meeting frog!Naveen and so should know there’s an imposter, but I suppose it’s just story convention, to have this kind of a pre-climax misunderstanding. It’s the same reason why Naveen is locked in a box on the float where he can interrupt the wedding, rather than being stowed away more securely somewhere else, or why Charlotte didn’t turn into a frog too after not being able to turn Tiana and Naveen back.

At long last, our climax arrives. After Dr. Facilier “lays Ray low” in a scene that makes both Mum and me cry out in grief, he corners Tiana in the graveyard, enticing her with the dream she’s worked so hard for in the hopes of getting the medallion that would allow Lawrence to impersonate Naveen and Facilier to steal the La Bouff fortune. But because of all of the character development Tiana’s gone through, she remembers what’s really important -- the people she loves -- and she outdoes the Shadowman, condemning him to be yanked down into the underworld by his so-called “Friends” for all time. The growth Tia’s gone through also gives her the strength and courage needed to put her dream aside and tell Naveen about her feelings for him. And because she’s a true friend, Charlotte shows no hint of bitterness about missing out on her “happily ever after” with Naveen -- instead she immediately is supportive of her friend and tries to fight for her happiness, to the extent that she looks over the moon when Tiana and Naveen get married as humans. Even Ray, who Mum wishes desperately had been able to make it, achieves happiness by finally becoming a star beside his beloved Evangeline. As our film comes to an end with a reprise of “Down in New Orleans,” we’re left with a sense of triumph and optimism...two things that embody our newly crowned princess beautifully.

The Princess and the Frog is a movie that, in Mum’s and my opinion, should receive much more appreciation that it has. Financially speaking, it only did about as well as The Great Mouse Detective and Lilo and Stitch in theaters, but it still has left a lasting impact. I still see plenty of little girls dressing as Tiana in the parks, and I still hear about young black women and girls who have found validation and comfort in the first African American Disney princess. Even I, who share a complexion with white bread, find Tiana an engaging, brilliant role model in today’s world -- in Mum’s words, she embraces the idea of success being half inspiration and half perspiration, but she also learns the virtue in disregarding the chase for success when it comes at the cost of your values. She learns how to love, how to grow, and how to change, while also encouraging the best from those around her. The Princess and the Frog also features what I would argue is the best Disney animated villain since the Disney Renaissance, a soundtrack that embraces its setting to the Nth degree, and a prince who grows just as much as his love interest does while they are together. It’s not a perfect film, but no film is, and Mum and I hope that like other Disney films that didn’t make much money on their initial theatrical releases, we as a Disney fanbase can make this movie a cult classic and give it the love it fought so hard to earn and so rightfully deserves. Look how it lights up the screen -- ma belle Princess and the Frog!

#d-views #disney reviews #mum and tory watch together!!#disney #the princess and the frog #reviews #opinion #analysis #oh boy here i go

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stormquill · 6 years ago

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One Equal Temper | chapter three [V/Reader]

As hell itself wreaks havoc upon your city, an angel lands on your doorstep—one who doesn’t seem to realize he has wings.

Author’s Notes: Follow the blog @one-equal-temper.

Notes: Touch-starved V time? Touch-starved V time.

V stares at the violin.

He stares at it for a very long time.

The instrument was beautiful: 4/4, full-sized, made from a polished, glossy brown wood which was now reflecting light from the early morning rays. There were no fingerprints or nail scratches along its neck, nor was there any wear on the chin rest; the only indication it had ever been touched at all were the three strips of masking tape spaced out near the end of the neck, marking basic finger positions for a beginner.

Whoever owned the instrument had been learning how to play.

Griffon flew into the vacant apartment where V had taken refuge.

“You were right,” he said, perching along the balcony railing, “broken locks on every floor. Must’ve turned the whole damn building upside-down looking for that thing.”

“But why waste the time?”

“Only you would figure someone doin’ you a favour is a waste of time.”

“Cruelty knits a snare and spreads his baits with care.”

“Or—here’s a crazy friggin’ thought—maybe they were just being nice.”

V lifted the bow from the violin case. On instinct, his fingers fell around the end of it in perfect positioning, his hands full of memories that did not belong to his body. “Perhaps returning here was not such a good idea.”

��You’re killin’ me, V, you know that?” Griffon scowled. “May I remind you that you’re the one who hasn’t told the human why we’re here, yet? Who’s really ‘cruelty with a snare,’ here, huh?”

V tensed. At once, Griffon could feel him bristling, a sudden rush of static in the air that whipped the demonic familiar back to humility.

“Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve?” Griffon gave an apprehensive little chuckle. “Sorry, boss. Didn’t mean anything by it. You and me, we’re in this together. I’m behind you whatever you wanna do. Even if that means not showering for another week.”

Keeping silent, V twisted the screw at the bottom of the bow to tighten it. He retrieved the chunk of rosin from a pocket inside the violin case, and glided the small amber brick along the now-taut length of horsehair strings.

From the moment he was given life, V had conceptualized himself as half of a whole, the opposite side of Urizen’s coin that minted the currency of Vergil. Every waking moment was dedicated to a paradox, righting wrongs that were somehow both his own, and not his own. But you, in all of your panicked, twitchy, lone-survivor glory, ended up showing him a kindness he hadn’t come to expect of anyone before or since.

Such gestures were afforded to the living, and living was not the reason for V’s existence.

(What would you think of him if you knew the real reason he knocked on your door?)

Your unexpected gift was based on the ghosts of his memory, an unintentional parallel to the contradiction of his own reality—V knew how to play the violin, but at the same time, he had never held one in his hands.

You said you missed music.

Could he give you that much?

Standing at the balcony, V rested the violin on his shoulder and drew the bow across the strings, adjusting the pegs every so often until the notes of his scales felt proper.

“Soundin’ a little flat there, Shakespeare.”

“It may require further tuning.”

V could sense your presence in the neighboring apartment. You were around the corner, hiding from him, and that’s where he thought you would stay...until several minutes later, when you emerged onto your balcony holding two mugs of steaming liquid.

As your balconies were only an arm’s length from each other, you reached over your side’s edge to hand him his cup. He took it, and the brief, gentle caress of his fingers against yours marked the first physical contact with you he’s ever had.

“It’s hot chocolate,” you said, shyly. “I remember you saying you liked chocolate, so...”

Another small token. Another kind gesture.

The feeling of your hand beneath his touch lingered long after you pulled away.

V came and went all hours of the day and night.

Military efforts to take back Red Grave did not seem to wane, in spite of their consistent, predictable failures. V helped as much as he could—clearing the most densely-infected pockets of the city, advising those in charge time and time again that traditional artillery would do nothing against the plague—but the armies continued to be sent in waves, as if throwing more bullets, more guns, more bodies at the problem would eventually prove itself a viable solution.

The stagnation was frustrating, but V couldn’t accomplish much by way of progress until Nero returned.

In the meantime, V strategically controlled clusters of demon spawn before the herds became too much for him to handle alone. He tore down creeping Qliphoth roots to prevent them from branching outside city bounds. He fought alongside military personnel whenever he found them, until they fell back or were wiped out trying.

Through it all, he cannot keep his mind from the memory of his fingers against yours.

The walk back to the apartment building became his respite, the six-floor climb up the fire escape as good a reprieve as any. Regardless of the day’s events, regardless of whether or not he had yet slept, he would go out to his balcony and pick up the violin, every morning without fail. Playing for you was like rousing a bird from its nest. You would be drawn out by his melody, curious and weary, and you would listen.

You would not ask him where he had been. You would not ask him where he was going.

You would just listen.

A routine was birthed within this small sanctuary, a routine that started with music and ended with you reaching out to him, a warm mug in hand—sometimes tea, sometimes chocolate, depending on what you could find.

He ignored the way his pulse would quicken whenever your hands touched.

You were an indulgence, he rationalized.

Nothing more.

Shadow was growing unsettled, V could feel it.

Due to the nature of their contracts, inactivity would sometimes cause his familiars to grow restless, especially if one was being summoned more frequently than the others. As of late, Griffon had rarely been dismissed; if he wasn’t at V’s side in exploration or battle, he was in the apartment, napping on a pet bed he’d found in the corner and claimed for himself. Naturally, this made Shadow jealous.

There was no danger in calling upon Shadow outside of battle to appease her agitation. Though she was far more primal of a demon than Griffon was, she never acted out of alignment with V’s motives—his familiars were extensions of himself, which meant they were always in-tune with what he wanted.

So, when the panther burst forth from her sigils and ran out to V’s balcony to leap onto yours, to say V was surprised was an understatement.

He barely had time to process what had happened before he heard you screaming.

“Holy SHIT—NONONONONONONO—”

In the moments it took V and Griffon to reach you, you had already been pinned to the ground—you looked horrified as Shadow stood on top of you, nuzzling her face against yours hard enough to keep your head pressed firmly to the floor.

“What is happening?!” you shrieked, your voice shaking with terrified confusion.

Griffon wasted no time laughing his ass off.

Having a fully-grown black panther charge through your sixth-floor window was quite low on your list of expectations, but it didn’t take you long to regain your bearings.

You sat on your couch as Shadow loafed in your lap, the feline familiar big enough to take up all the remaining seats. Within minutes, you went from a state of shock to burying a cheek right into her fluff, using the vibrations of her deep purring to try and alleviate your perpetual headache.

You could tell something was wrong with V, be it from how he hadn’t moved from your balcony, or the expression of deep concern he wasn’t containing as well as he would’ve hoped. He was emanating an aura of unease you’d never felt from him before. You couldn’t shake off the feeling you’d done something wrong.

“So,” you started, trying to lighten the mood and getting a mouthful of fur in the process, “any other familiars I should know about?”

“...perhaps in due time.”

Griffon chuckled. “Oh man, you’re gonna love Nightmare.”

“Nightmare,” you repeated. If the giant demon bird was named ‘Griffon’ and the giant demon cat was named ‘Shadow,’ you tried to imagine what nature of creature ‘Nightmare’ could have been. Your overactive imagination combined with your chronic headache shorted out your brain. “Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.”

Shadow chuffed in your lap. You jumped at the noise.

V kept watch from afar, leaning heavily against his cane.

There had never before been such egregious dissonance between V’s expectations and Shadow’s actions. Shadow existed in light of V’s best interests—she acted on what he wanted—and though you were blissfully unaware of the implications, being confronted by the sight of his own longing disgraced him in a way he didn’t think possible.

His familiars were extensions of himself, after all.

Instead of Griffon, V imagined being bold enough to have visited you first.

Instead of Shadow, V imagined himself spread across your lap, your hands through his hair, you smiling down at him as you were now.

Only then did V realize the depth of the problem.

V did not touch his violin the following morning.

In his entertainment of idle pleasantries, he had forgotten himself, and why he was here. His purpose in life was to reunite with Urizen to become whole again, to salvage what remained of Red Grave, to earn some semblance of atonement by purifying what he himself had poisoned. He was a splintered fracture of Vergil—he was not meant to have desires of his own, as he was not his own.

He was not his own.

V yanked the length of his silver cane from the demon’s flesh, tossing its mangled carcass aside with graceful ease.

From the break of dawn to the glint of twilight, he made rounds throughout the city, reminding himself with every battle what he was responsible for unleashing upon the world. With the demons’ current respawn rate, he knew his efforts were an exercise in futility, but he continued the onslaught without pause, until every demon type in existence blurred together in a bloody palace of blades and wings and carapaces.

He would find catharsis. Eventually.

As he felt his vision blur and his power begin to wane, V unearthed a massive nest of dormant Furies, crowded behind a hidden wall of rubble and debris.

“V,” Griffon warned, still trying to catch his breath, “I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours, but we’ve been at this all damn day. You sure you wanna keep goin’?”

V’s hand tightened around his cane.

This is why he was here.

This is all he was good for.

It was curious to see where his legs had taken him without him knowing.

Griffon’s talons wrapped tight around V’s shoulders as he carried him over the fire escape railing. Shadow supported V’s lethargic landing on the metal grates, propping him upright with her own body. All three of them were covered in blood.

“Up and over,” Griffon groaned, dragging V in through the open window. “C’mon, kid, on your feet—”

V collapsed into the hallway, falling into a tangled heap on the ground.

“—alright, close enough.”

Shadow hopped in after him, once more letting V use her as leverage to stand until he could right himself with his cane.

Whatever came next was a haze.

Footsteps from down the hall. Muffled conversation. Someone rushing to his side, slinging his arm around their neck to support his weight and help him find his footing again, like a bird on his wings for too long.

Of course it was you.

Who else but you?

The two of you made it to his bed, eventually, and V landed on the mattress with a heavy sigh.

“Are you guys hurt??” you asked in a panic, looking over the blood on all three of them.

“Don’t freak out, gravedigger, the blood’s not ours.” Visibly frustrated, Griffon nestled on his bed atop the nightstand. “Shakespeare bit off more than he could chew tonight and now he’s payin’ for it.”

“I overexerted myself,” V corrected. “I simply need to rest.”

Your brows drew together. “You want me to just leave you like this?”

“I will be fine.”

“Let me help clean you off, at least.”

“I will take care of it in the morning.”

“Look—I know you’re pissed at me, but you’re not going to get any proper rest passing out in your own filth.”

The frustration in your voice was sobering. From your point of view, he had slighted you, somehow—yet, you were still seeking ways to help him.

“What makes you believe I am upset with you?” he asked in concern.

Confusion flickered across your face as you spoke. “When Shadow came over yesterday, you spent the whole time standing on my balcony looking like someone pissed in your cereal. And this morning—I made you tea, but you didn’t show up to our...”

You stopped yourself, not knowing what to call it.

“Rendezvous,” he offered.

“...yeah.”

“I am sorry for misleading you,” he said, softly. “I assure you, you have done nothing wrong—my quandaries are purely my own. There was an urgent...dilemma that required my attention.”

“Did you figure it out, at least?”

V turned to examine you, seeing one side of you stained red from where you held him as you helped him walk. The moment you saw he was in trouble, you had no reservations about getting blood all over yourself, and even now, you had no hesitation in getting even more of it on you. You had no idea you were at the heart of his predicament.

You had no idea of the predicament in his heart.

In the face of every apprehension sounding alarms within his head, V stood resolute, and asked precisely what he wanted to. “May I be so bold as to request your assistance?”

You lit up in surprise, and you nodded.

You pulled the bedroom chair towards his bedside and took a look at what you were dealing with. Upon closer examination, he wasn’t so much drenched in blood as he was heavily splattered, like he was on the losing end of a particularly nasty paintball ambush. He didn’t seem to have any injuries, but you didn’t know what an overnight soak in demon blood would do to a person, and you had no intention of finding out.

“I need to take your jacket off,” you said. “Is that okay?”

“Such polite bedside manner,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but he was pleased to notice the shade of red he brought to your cheeks. With steady hands, you untied the string at the front of his coat; he could feel your fingertips brush against his bare skin, and the contact made his stomach flip.

“Can you sit up for me?” you asked, not having noticed a thing.

Still exhausted, V trembled slightly as he lifted himself on his elbows and gathered the strength to follow your request—then your hand was on his back, above his coat, helping him move upright. Your other hand tucked along each collar bone, sliding his jacket from his shoulders, one arm at a time. You removed his glove and unclipped his bracelets from his wrist.

Then your hands were off him, again.

You left the room and returned with some supplies: a large bowl of water, several small towels, and a flashlight you stood up on a nearby table to cast light towards the ceiling and illuminate the room.

You rolled up your sleeves and pushed your hair back before setting to work.

With V covered in his mess and his familiars as soiled as he was, the bedroom was thick with the stench of demon blood, rotten and strangely acidic—thankfully, it seemed to wipe away easily with a damp cloth.

There was a clinical detachment in the way you moved around him, aided by the fact you would not meet his eyes. Even so, V was painfully aware of every gentle motion your warm hands made against him, clearing bright red smears from the pallor of his skin. Cloth in hand, you made soothing, repetitive movements down the lengths of his arms, across his palms, between each of his fingers, careful and thorough. You moved down the dip of his collar bones and travelled across the width of his chest; you reached the hollows beneath his ribs and he wondered if you could feel his heart beating.

He could tell how hard you were trying to detach yourself from the moment, but your worry was obvious in your tenderness, your care evident in your gentle attention.

As his eyes drifted shut, he did something he hadn’t since the day he was forced onto this plane of existence.

He let himself feel safe.

Your every movement against him felt deliberate and reverent, as if the demon’s blood had vandalized his canvas and you were working to restore the artwork underneath. Even you, in all your modesty, couldn’t tear your eyes from the artwork spanning the length of his body, studying the maze of ink tangled across his skin as if he were a masterpiece.

He felt you work your way back up his neck. As you took a fresh cloth to the blood across his nose, you used your other hand to touch the side of his face, trying to turn him towards you. Keeping his eyes closed, he instead took it as an invitation to lean fully into your palm, until you were cradling his face in your hand.

When he finally glanced up at you from beneath his dark lashes, he realized you were holding your breath.

He felt you brush your thumb along his cheek to move his hair away from his eyes.

And in that moment, you were everything.

“I made the mistake of denying myself the possibility of new experiences,” he said, voice drowsy with exhaustion. “I feared having purpose outside of my calling would prove to be a distraction, and I feared it presumptuous of me to interpret your acts of kindness as anything more than gracious gestures. I hope for nothing more than to be wrong on both counts.”

Your heart was mounting beneath your chest. His words felt dizzying, even after you remembered how to breathe.

“I have been granted a short breath of time to rectify transgressions resulting from my selfish desires, but during this quest, ironic as it may be, I will dare to be selfish.” He held a hand over the one you had against his face. “If you would indulge me.”

You could think of nothing you wanted more.

You turned your palm over to hold his hand, threading a few of your fingers between his own. You hadn’t realized how tense he was until your acceptance seemed to make his whole body sigh, a breathless smirk tugging at the edge of his lips as he gazed at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Like the morning star arising above the black waves, when a shipwrecked soul sighs for morning,” he breathed, beaming. “No matter where I go, I am drawn back here, to you, like gravity.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“Thank you, starlight.”

His hand was still wrapped in yours when he finally drifted off to sleep.

After some time, a beak gently nudged your shoulder from behind. When you turned around, Griffon’s eyes were shying away from yours, as if he’d just witnessed something he wasn’t supposed to to.

“We can take it from here, gravedigger,” he said, shrugging his head. “You go on, get some sleep.”

Your heart fuller now than it had ever been, you smiled back at him, not wanting to move your hand a single inch away from where it was now. “Would it be alright if I stayed?”

Griffon snorted, knowing he should’ve known better. “Yeah, kid. You do you.”

V was surprised to wake with you by his side. You were still sitting in the chair as you slouched over his bed, your arms and clothes still blood-stained from the previous night’s events. Griffon appeared to have preened himself and had stuck random damaged feathers in your hair throughout the night as you slept. Shadow was curled on the floor at the foot of his bed. Both of his familiars were fast asleep.

You hadn't let go of his hand.

As he stirred, you roused from your slumber, and the first thing you did was smile at him.

“Good morning, starlight.”

Your eyes lit up, but the tremendous guilt behind his own must have been obvious, as your expression fell at once. “What’s wrong?”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter.

“I fear I have not been honest with you.”

#v x reader #v x you #v dmc5 #dmc5 v #devil may cry #one equal temper

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puppyluver256 · 5 years ago

Photo

OKAY SO NOW I HAVE SOME DESIGN CONCEPTS FOR MY SFMxSPLATOON AU HERE YOU GO and now I’m gonna try to run down what this is all about outside of the braindump post that I kept adding onto.

Splat For Me - A Summary

The basic gist is that Habit owns a flower shop in Inkopolis and Kamal is his partner of both the business and romance types. Habit’s a shark, specifically a porbeagle (I’m gonna refer to him as a “Sharkling” due to working on similar logic to Inklings and Octolings), and Kamal’s an octo. The flower shop would have an in-game function kinda like a combination of the Crust Bucket (in that they have floral accessories that players could add to their hat/clothing for exp boosts, cash boosts, and temporary ability add-ons) and Salmon Run (in that you’d get another play mode where you fight weird enemies, more details below).

Sharkling Habit

I had a hard time makin him not look like Garbage so my efforts should be appreciated at some level. I know the only precedent for sharks in the Splatoon universe is Fuka Bottom of the Bottom Feeders (one of the in-universe music groups that AREN’T Squid Sisters or Off the Hook, look ‘em up), but they’ve got that “I’ve turned this shark vertically and am now looking at their mouth and underbelly” look to ‘em that I most definitely did not want, but I managed to make something more in my vision yaaaaay

Habit managed to get away from his nasty abusive parents before becoming a dentist in this AU (besides, being a dentist isn’t THAT lucrative when the dominant species doesn’t even have bones let alone proper teeth), so he’s not Dr. Habit here, he’s just Boris the flower shark. He’s gotten a lot of attention for his little flower shop, partly because the kids participating in turf war are getting some really good use out of the shop’s floral accessories and partly because they like coming around just to see Habit. S’not every day that you get to hang around vertebrates in this society, and they think his teeth are cool. Yup, that’s why I made him a shark, to make the too-many-teeth face not so unnatural. And being a shark, sometimes those extra teeth push themselves forward and knock out the old ones, which if still in decent condition never go to waste. The really nice-looking ones get turned into authentic shark tooth necklaces (after they’ve gone through a good wash, of course, don’t wanna give the customers his mouth germs), the others that don’t have any significant wear and tear get either ground into bone meal for his flowers or occasionally just shoved whole into the soil, with the erythronium responding to these treatments the best.

While there is some flower growth going on in the shop itself, most of the work there is keeping them healthy for sale and the major growth time for the flowers are off-site in various greenhouses that he refers to as Habitats. (before he had these set up, he was caught several times trying to grow flowers in the Kelp Dome and subsequently removed, took five times for him to realize that maybe he shouldn’t be doing that and also maybe don’t try to swipe a nearly-ripe artichoke on your way out gdi) They’re a bit more than just a normal greenhouse, actually; they’re self-contained areas that seem to be made with materials and techniques that are incredibly similar to Octarian technology. How’d he get ahold of that stuff? No one knows, not even Kamal, and he’s the most likely source of such tech who’d be close to him. One thing that is for certain is that he’s procured something that lets non-inking beings use ink-based weapons, and it’s been incredibly helpful given certain recent developments...

Turns out that his Habitats are starting to come under fire from some very tricky troublemakers. Weird little crafts somehow breaking in from the skies, piloted by...snails? Are they really snails? They certainly don’t look like the Super Sea Snails that everyone’s used to, they look more like the typical image of a UFO piloted by snail-like creatures (snailiens?), but they’re here and they’re hungry and they’ve got a taste for flowers. And Habit’s friggin’ pissed. That’s where the player would come in if this were a real game element: once you’d get to a certain freshness level, you’d make your way to the flower shop only to see Kamal manning the counter instead of Habit, and he’d suggest you go help Habit deal with his pest problem because you “look like you’re pretty capable with slingin’ ink”. After a tutorial where you learn how to deal with the big boy snailiens, you could join up with some other players and take ‘em on. You would, of course, be rewarded handsomely for your help.

Funny little image I also had in mind: he’s been known to get stuck in shark form at inopportune moments, and when this happens he’ll need someone to crack his back to make it easier to shift back into humanoid form. No one knows how to handle this unless they’ve done it at least once because no one else around him has booooones XD (also his humanoid form is prolly gonna still have green skin despite no part of the porbeagle being green because I don’t currently feel comfortable assigning natural skintones to any of the SFM characters who are canonically green/blue/purple/etc, unless their canon design makes it Very Obvious what natural skintone would be most likely, ie. Tiff)

Octoling Kamal

Kamal was significantly easier to work with due to my experience with drawing Octolings already hahaha

Kamal’s the assistant manager at Habit’s flower shop, which is basically a fancy way of saying he’s the only other person there who could legally be a full-time employee. He handles most of the logistics of keeping the shop stable, because as much passion the boss has for their work, passion alone can’t pay the bills and he’s often a tad too distracted to deal with the numbers and paperwork. They work pretty well together, even if they do both have a tendency to goof off on the job.

I seriously doubt that Marina and the various incarnations of Agent 8 were the only Octolings to migrate topside after the events of the first game, so Kamal was probably one of several who found a way out. I haven’t hammered this part out yet entirely, but I’m pretty sure that he would’ve been on staff for a weapons/tech r-n-d group before leaving at his first opportunity and grabbing some random gadget in the process. He hated the place he ended up emerging in because it was near a small town where everyone was so spread out and him being used to (not necessarily comfortable with, just used to) constant sounds at all hours made the silence of just the first night unbearable. So he tried to hop a train to any urban area that he came across but in his haste to get topside he forgot to bring any moneeeyyy, not even Octarian money just no money at all, left it all behind like a goof. He ends up freaking out to himself because even though he’s got a valuable Thing on him it’s not like the train people are gonna recognize it as anything but junk or even be able/willing to accept it as replacement for standard currency, then out of nowhere this huge-ass shark man just shows up and buys a ticket to Inkopolis for him? Okay, sure, he’ll take what he can get, even if the guy was all “u owe me a ‘favor’ ;-)” once they were on their way. And of course that’s how he met his future boss and bf. ;P

At some point Kamal gets a little jealous of all the kids having fun with the turf war stuff and kinda wishes he could try it out at least once, but of course that’s kid stuff and he’s got Adult Responsibilities to worry about... Oh wait, there’s actually an adults’ league? And Habit’s insisting on giving him time off to go try it and see how it is?

(also those flower seed bags say “bloomy” in one of the Inkling alphabets, and yes it WAS a “woomy” joke on my part)

Other details (to be expanded upon)

Putunia and Flower Kid are often seen at the flower shop, even though I don’t have any designs for them yet). Putunia is there so often because she’s Habit and Kamal’s adopted kid, and while she REALLY wants to get into turf war she’s far too young. (if you’ve ever seen the Inkling growth chart, she’s at stage 3 of growth) Flower Kid’s there because they are a part-time employee, often delivering products around town, but they spend enough time with their employers and Putunia that they might as well be their honorary child as well. They’re old enough to participate in turf war, they’re just not interested in doing so.

#splatoon #smile for me #splat for me #dr boris habit #kamal bora #putunia mollar #flower kid #au concepts #habismal #i guess?#yeah that's the tag pretty sure #i can't even say it's just implied it is Right There in the open #i kicked over a big ol' can of ship and it's spilling all over the floor good lord someone help me clean this up aaaaaa #sfw

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thecreativeangel · 6 years ago

Text

aut neca aut necare: VI

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

*Please don’t plagiarize my work, thank you :3*

Summary: You try once more to apologize to Peter (not successfully) and Spiderman thinks it’s a good idea to bring up your family.

Warnings: A hoe needs D E P R E S S O

Words: 3.1k wow i need a life

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

“Hi Peter. Sorry I got in a completely meaningless fight with you and brought up the death of your parents. We're cool, right?”

Yeah, that wasn't going to pass. You stared with half bleary eyes at the phone in your hand, a paragraph long text message highlighted in blue, about to be deleted. This was the fifth…sixth? Sixth attempt at an astounding apology that would make Peter so emotional he’d forgive you in an instant. So far, everything you wrote turned out to be shit. Every text was too long, too pathetic and clingy. And it became apparent to you that as of recently, your texts to Peter had to be perfect. Even before the fight you’d been double checking the spelling, triple checking to make sure there weren’t too many emojis.

Is adding a period too formal? Too strict? And yes, you knew very well why you were acting like this but refused to say it out loud.

After huffing through your nose, you pressed delete and half an hour’s worth of typing was gone. The sound of heavy boats cutting through water was really helping right then, to calm nerves and such. You closed your eyes and dangled your feet over the side of the warehouse. The tracker you'd put on one of Kim’s “henchmen” (could a high school student really have henchmen?) had been still for two hours now, and the video you could get on your phone was of the spider-tracker crawling up and down a man’s pant leg. The doors were locked. The live feed was silent, save for the man pacing; he was alone.

A boat horn rang through the night air, startling a cat that was sleeping on the fence down below. That reminds me, you thought. Haven't gone to Delmar’s in a while. Your phone screen’s light illuminated your face, the blank text box ever present. Okay, go simple. Don't be a dumbass. Straight to the point. I've got this. Your fingers moved nimbly by themselves, typing out the shortest thing you could think of.

“‘I'm sorry’ isn't enough right now, I know. See you at school.”

You hit send and watched the text until “delivered” appeared in small blue letters right below. Was that too up front? Probably. Was he going to forgive you because of one text, no matter how long? No. Never. You looked up at the stars and sighed, feeling a cold gust of wind flow past your cheeks. With the mask off, details about your surroundings were more clear. Everything was in high definition, but that made it hard to focus. Spidey was right; your senses were dialed up to 11, too much input and not enough capacity for storage.

Looking back down at your phone, you saw that “delivered” had changed to “read”.

Peter already saw what you wrote. He didn't bother to reply.

You made a high pitched scream at the back of your throat, frustration and shame warming your cold cheeks. I’m an idiot! Of course he still hates me- I brought up his fucking dead parents! I was the first person he opened up to after they died, and now I’ve gone and fucked up. You kicked your legs over the side of the warehouse and laid spread angled on the tin roof. This was the warehouse you’d been visiting for a few days now. Almost a week. It was only half a mile from where you saw the tall grey alien talk to Kimberly and her bosses. Sure, you should be more careful than texting while hunting down dangerous criminals, but after a few days of spending nightly hours on the roof, it had grown boring. Tame. The giant garage door was locked and from a tiny crack in the wall you only saw a giant, empty warehouse.

You were close to giving up when a car pulled into the alley on your side of the roof. A boy stepped out, loudly smacking on gum and locking the car equally loudly. Still laying down, you peeked over the side of the roof. He, a younger kid, by the sound of it, was with a girl. She talked quickly, nervously. A lazy grin slid across your face; Kimberly was never good at whispering.

“Spit that shit out before I make you,” she finally snapped. You heard a “whooey” sound and a wet splat, meaning he did as told.

“It calms me down,” he explained serenely, as if appeasing a toddler. “Maybe you should try it, since you’re so worked up. Maybe you’ll stop annoying dad all the time.”

The garage doors slid up, rumbling so badly you felt the tremors in your entire body. Their voices faded and before they did, you heard Kimberly retort: “Dad likes me better anyway.” So that’s Kim’s brother? The three menacing, scary hooded figures that talked to the grey alien were a...family? SERIOUSLY?

“Hey,” a voice hissed, poking your shoulder. On reflex, you blindly grabbed (an...arm?) and threw them away, fully prepared to then launch yourself at the target because if they wanted to fight then-

“Ow, what the fuck!” Spidey gasped, holding his bruised bicep.

“Shit- don’t sneak up on me like that!” you cried.

“Why-” he seemed to wince, rubbing the sore spot. “D’you always try an’ kill people when they do that?!”

“Well I was kind of in the middle of something!” you argued, glancing nervously over the ledge at the half dozen parked vans. “Friggin’ intense bad guy shit was happening and you just sneak up on me outta nowhere…”

“What’s intense is your grip,” Spidey murmured, rolling his shoulder. “Is that ‘cause of your powers or are you a gym rat?”

“Okay Mr. ‘I Can Stop A Moving Train’,” you said, putting a hand on your hip. "Not everyone knows how to control their strength.”

He snickered and plopped down on the ledge of the warehouse. “No seriously. Powers or its always been like that?”

“Uh…” you sat down next to him. “Powers I think. Dunno, I’ve always been able to slap a bitch who needs it.”

Spidey pouted under his mask. “Aww, am I your bitch?”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from cackling. “Say that again, but slowly.”

“Am I y- oh,” he laughed awkwardly. “Whoops. Welp, guess this partnership is terminated. Nice knowing you, I’m going to go kill myself now.”

The boisterous laugh finally escaped your lips, all thoughts of Peter leaving your conscious. Spiderman made a gun with his hand, held it to the side of his head and jerked his thumb back as if pulling a trigger. “Now that my sidekick knows I’m an idiot, might as well drop being Spiderman, right?”

“Sidekick?” you managed to scoff between giggles. “Please. I’m the dominant one in this relationship.”

“Kinky.”

The tips of your ears suddenly felt hot. “S-shut up!”

Spidey laughed when you shoved his shoulder, rolling your eyes under your mask. “That’s not what I meant, dammit! I’m like the biggest virgin you’ll ever- Stop laughing!”

He kept doing so but somehow, you felt lighter than you’d been a few minutes ago. Free. Like a kid. Which was odd, because this was a nightly patrol and Kim was right below- “We need to get down there.”

The lighthearted aura was sucked from the air. “Huh?”

“I’m supposed to be down there! I was going to sneak in and- and now we’re talking about bullshit when we could be doing something!”

“Oh-kay crazy,” he dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “I called the police, they’ll be here in less than an hour. All we have to do is make sure they don’t leave the premises.”

You frowned inside your mask, thankful that it didn’t change to show facial expressions like his did. How could this superhero, especially one who was known to deviate from law enforcement, sit here and wait for people to do work for him? People who were defenseless unless they were armed with a weapon, no less. You impatiently tapped a gloved hand on your thigh, ears perking up to the muffled arguing that traveled up a nearby air vent.

“Go patrol the city,” Spidey suggested, tapping commands into the sensors on his wrist. “Better that than sitting here and doing nothing. I’ll call you if I need backu-”

“No way,” you said sternly. “I’m gonna kick their asses myself if they try to escape. Not leaving.”

“Don’t- you shouldn’t hurt them, they’re just doing their job,” he said finally, after at least five minutes of thick silence.

“They’re dangerous-”

“So are you,” he fired back. You drew away, fingers tightening around the ledge in surprise. He must have noticed the outburst was uncalled for because he released a shaky sigh. “So am I. We’re dangerous, you know that- right? Only difference between us and them is that we aren’t desperate enough to go into that line of work.”

You bristled at that. “That’s a damn big difference.”

“Not a hard line to cross, though,” Spidey noted, ceasing his tapping of instructions. “People do shit when they’re desperate. For money, for safety, for family…” he looked away from the skyline horizon and turned to you. “I’d do a lot for my family, more than I’d ever tell you about.”

“Well,” you said frankly. “That hurts a bit. Thanks, man.”

“You’ve been getting more...reckless,” he said, “The whole fiasco with the United Nations-”

“I told you that wasn’t me!”

Peter said the same thing, about the United Nations. About the little epic failure you achieved in one night. He was wrong, though; you were framed, it was synthetic smoke. Who was trying to make you Public Enemy #1? You didn’t know and it was killing you. Maybe I should tell Peter about this superhero gig. He could help me deal with it, I guess, you considered the notion. That’d be a huge chip off my shoulder. Too bad I was a complete dumbass and ruined the friendship with one stupid fucking offhand comment-

“Okay, say it wasn’t,” Spidey said patiently, drawing you out of the stream of furious thoughts. “But you stole from that jewelry store a while back.”

“I stopped a potential robbery!” you said defiantly. “He was an idiot for trying to steal at Fifth Avenue- who the hell does that? A-and I only took one little diamond-”

“‘One little diamond’?!”

“Whaaat?” you whined, looking down at your dangling legs guiltily.

“What would your parents think?” Spidey asked, probably expecting you to open up more. Probably raising an eyebrow under his stupid mask. Good luck with that, bud.

“Okay, okay,” you immediately dropped the playful tone. “I get it, that was bad. Let’s move on please.”

“No, c’mon,” he pressed. “Everyone thinks about their family when they do bad shit.”

Your lips were pursed in a thin line and you felt your head tilt in a small nod. He would get no other answer right away, but he sure did try. “Do you...not have a family?”

No response. “Shit, I’m sorry. I assumed-”

“I have a family,” you forced out, and it sounded so disgusting to say that you prayed you’d never have to say it again. Spiderman did this thing where he leaned forward and turned his upper body towards you, cocking his head down and waiting for a continuation. You huffed.

“It’s a complicated situation, webhead,” you lifted one leg onto the roof and pulled your knee to your chest, letting the other one dangle. “S’not a big family anyway, so at least it’s not completely out of hand.”

“Dead relative?”

You shook your head. “Single mom.”

“Oh,” his hand patted your shoulder, a surprisingly welcomed gesture. “My best friend’s got a single mom. They’re not very close, though.”

“Good for them,” you said flatly.

Spiderman shifted awkwardly. “So maybe don’t...steal jewelry? For your mom’s sake?”

He looked at you for a reaction, even a tiny nod, and got none. “You really hate talking about her, don’t you?”

“It’s not- ugh, I dunno,” you hung your head lower. “If I talk about my mum for another second I’d probably start on a whole rant ‘bout how she utterly failed as a parent and, despite technically being there my entire childhood, is constantly ignoring her responsibilities-”

You opened your mouth to continue but choked on the words, realizing that the conversation was 90% you oversharing. “Anyway she’s an okay mum or whatever. Hasn’t done anything that bad. Very average.”

How else were you to phrase it to someone you met so recently? “Very average” was giving her way too much credit but it wasn’t abuse...anymore. In the past two years she’d gone from hitting you for being a disappointment to not caring at all. She didn’t yell every week, she didn’t slap you upside the head or box your ears. She tried to do Mother/Daughter nights but they always ended with her screaming about kicking you out while you wiped away tears. Frankly it wasn’t “caring” as much as it was random fits of rage but- it wasn’t physical anymore. You didn’t have hand shaped bruises anymore, nor split lips. You still had to be careful around your mum ‘cause hell, who knew if she was having a bad day. Who knew what she’d do if she had a bad day. But despite the bad days...she was still your mum. She always apologized after a week or so, told you she hadn’t meant it.

Spiderman was nodded slowly. “You’ve...got a lot to say about your mom.”

“Trust me, that barely covered my opinion of her,” you grumbled. “But what the hell, right? Not like I know you,” your hands felt clammy and hot from frustration.

“Don’t look,” you warned him briskly.

“What?”

“I need some air, don’t look at me.” Your fingers grasped the bottom of your mask and began to tug up. Chilly night air tingled pleasantly wherever it touched, almost making you sigh out loud.

Spidey’s neck must have snapped with how quickly he looked away. “Are you crazy?! Why are you taking the mask o-”

“Relax, I’m just lifting it a little,” you bunched the mask up on the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply for the cold, dry New York air. It rattled in your lungs yet you took another calming breath, glancing at Spiderman.

He was covering his eyes.

“You don’t have to-” your quiet laugh got his attention. “Don’t cover your eyes, dude. Jus’ don’t look at my face.”

“Uh, yeah,” he hesitantly took the hand from his face. “Gotta be cautious thought.”

“S’ just my mouth, Spiderboy,” you grinned at his awkward nature. “What- can’t handle seeing a girl’s lips?”

“Yes I have!”

You giggled at his voice crack. “Pretty sure you’ve a bigger virgin than I am.”

“I am not!”

“Oh yeah?” you quirked an eyebrow, knowing he couldn’t see it. “I’m making my ‘I-don’t-believe-you’ face, by the way. Seriously starting to doubt that you’re my age ‘cause…you act like a twelve year old. No offense.”

“I’m sixteen!” he defended and honestly, seeing him angrily wave his arms around without facing you was hilarious. And the suit sounded like it was frantically trying to adjust the voice modifier to his high pitched rambling. “I swear I’m sixteen, it’s fucking puberty-”

You put a hand up to silence him, smiling maniacally before pulling your mask over your chin again. “I kid, I kid. Mask is back down.”

If this were a cartoon there would have been steam shooting from his ears. Not like, angry steam. Flustered steam. Or maybe both. Either way, it was funny.

“I hate you,” he groused. “And my voice had to crack! God, that’s worse than when we met!”

A fresh bout of laughter erupted from thinking of that memory alone. Your cackles, once again muffled by the shitty mask, had to be stifled by biting down on the inside of your cheek.

“Pfft, ha! Oh-” you gagged on the words. “Oh that was fucking amazing! D’you- d’you remember when the kid was running-”

“Please no.”

“And you tried to grab him-”

“No, no you said you wouldn’t bring that up!”

“And he threw the bag of quarters at your dick! Ha!”

Spiderman groaned in agony. “Take the mask off so I can deck you.”

“Come at me scrub, I’m- shit,” your metal wristlet beeped, flashing the word “Urgent” in neon blue block letters. “Ah, damn. There’s a robbery near my place, gotta check that out,” owners of a small Korean place near Delmar’s are being threatened at gunpoint. You’d been there with Peter and Ned few times, and that made thought you somber again. “That’ll be a few minutes to get to.”

“You’ve gotta stop bugging the cameras,” Spidey said disapprovingly.

“Well some of us don’t have fancy Super-Conducting 4.2 Tera whatever to help us,” you answered snidely, projecting a small image of the restaurant's security camera view. “Fuck, you’ve got patrol too. Who’s gonna guard this shit?”

“I can stay here,” Spidey offered quickly. He’s not asking to swing me there? That’s...weird. Last time I checked he was the biggest Mom Friend I’ve ever met.

You paused at the ledge of the warehouse, eyes moving from the him to Queens in the distance and back again. “Are you sure?”

“Go!” he urged, shooing you away. “I can handle one night without a partner. S’ your chance to prove that you’re not evil.” You scoffed, wheeled around and raised your middle finger, falling backwards off the ledge with your arms spread like wings. Your body dissolving into a column of smoke seconds before hitting the ground. Spiderman didn’t call for backup that night and the ordeal was stopped with a few “magic tricks” of yours. The robber was easy to take down as he was stupid high and though you disappeared before they could say anything, you saw the restaurant owners talking to a local reporter with relieved expressions. You doubted the old couple would say anything bad, but being tentative never hurt anyone. Hopefully Spidey’s call sent a few officers to the warehouse.

Funny thing was: you hadn’t seen any police cars heading to the warehouse as you flew Queens. Not a single one.

A/N: idk why i got carried away with this. like on one hand...character background. on the other...character background that will cause some depressing shit vv soon

Tags: @everythingthatisrandom, @mcheung0314,@spiderdudeparker, @lou-la-lou, @4-a-m, @miss-glitch, @runs-with-sciss0rs, @lubrielx, @kaitlynthehuman, @b-lyn-k, @hotsocke, @therealwatermelon, @shipping-the-unsinkable-ship, @vivideley, @rosieredcheeks

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