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deliciouspeachpirate · 4 years ago

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Affectionate Newsies Headcanons Part 2

A/N OH MY GOSH I CAN’T BELIVE HOW MUCH THE FIRST ONE BLEW UP I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT!!!! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read/like/reblog it, and to those of you who left something in the tags or commented, I legit just stared at my screen smiling for the longest time, thank you all so much!! I hope you guys like this one too, and please let me know if you have requests for anything! The next one will include Spot, Specs, and Elmer (as requested by a lovely anon!), and I should have it up by Wednesday. As always, please feel free to request, and let me know what your favorite part was or if you want me to expand on something! Enjoy, and have an awesome day/night!

Race: Race is definitely one of the most affectionate newsies. Like Jack, he is constantly hanging off of someone, playfighting, knocking off caps, etc, though he is typically a bit more rough than Jack. While Jack’s conscious aim is to make sure the boys know he loves them as well as having fun, Race playfights and steals their stuff for the chance to mess with his brothers and annoy the crap out of them. He normally means well of course! He also likes to run up behind someone and lift them off the ground randomly, whether they are in a conversation, trying to sell, Race doesn’t care. Random tickle attacks are also very common, but Race CANNOT take what he dishes out, he will literally collapse on the ground and die. While Race is extremally rambunctious and is always shoving someone around, by the end of a long selling day, he is exhausted and pretty much just wants to cuddle with someone until either they all go to Jacobi’s or he randomly gets all of his energy back and leaps up to go run off some steam by annoying everyone before bed.

The major downside to Race getting all cuddly and cute when he is tired is that that he is also VERY whinny. He typically stumbles into the arms of the closest newsie, buries his face in their chest, and starts whining gibberish at them. While he will and has dragged every single newsie to the couch to cuddle at one point or another, his favorites are Albert and JoJo. JoJo absolutely loves it, and it works out well because he also just wants cuddles at the end of the day, but Albert is mildly annoyed by it. At this point the only thing he does to fight it though is groan a bit before he settles down and just lets Race have his way. Race’s all time favorite cuddle partner is, of course, his very own personal teddy bear, Spot Conlon! Its not common that he can be in Brooklyn, so when he is and the two of them can be alone, they will not stop touching each other for any reason. While he is not the best at comforting someone when they cry, often freaking out over what to say, resorting to humor, and sometimes making it worse, he is one of the littles first choices to go to if they have nightmares. He just holds them and lets them cry until they fall back asleep, sometimes humming gently to them (but don’t tell anyone!) Race loves his friends immensely, but sometimes has a hard time letting them know, so he resorts to annoying them.

Albert: Albert is one of the least affectionate newsies. He grew up with several older brothers (he still helps provide for them and his father) and never really had personal space before, so he treasures it now that he lives at the lodging house. He is fine with someone knocking shoulders with him or a punch to the shoulder, just as long as people aren’t hanging off him all the time. The boys know he doesn’t like to be touched that much, and they respect that most of the time, but sometimes someone will still put their arm over his shoulder without thinking. When that happens, Albert pretty much just lets it slide, but will nudge them off/step away if they don’t get off of him after a minute. He’s fine with Race touching him pretty much whenever though, especially because he knows that Race will respect his boundaries if he ever asks him to stop, even if it is a bit annoying at times! He will often through his arm around Race, but not really anyone else. While people often see Albert as closed off and have a hard time getting past his resting bitch face, he has a huge soft spot for the littles. He makes a point to check in with each of them everyday, often walking around Manhattan to see how their selling is going, if they need help, and to make sure they aren’t getting distracted. Everyday when he is finished selling and goes to the circulation desk to turn in his bag he always waits until each of the littles has made it back until he goes home. He can often be seen walking with a gaggle of littles following him, fighting over who gets to hold his hand or be carried next. He always makes sure that they are eating well enough and has been known to go nearly a week without food in the winter to make sure they all had something for dinner before Jack realized what was going on and stepped in. Albert also helps tuck them in at night, especially when Jack is at the theater late or is extra busy. The most physical affection Albert shows is normally a side hug or clapping someone on the shoulder if they’ve had a rough day, got into a fight, etc. (Crutchie was very surprised to get a full on hug from him when he got back from the Refuge) Albert doesn’t show his love for his friends the same way most of them do. Love and family are very hard concepts for him to grasp, as his brothers never treated him well, his mother left them for a young business man, and his father has been borderline abusive ever since, all while saying they loved each other. The only time he has ever said he loved one of the newsies was when Race got really sick one winter and it didn’t look like he was going to make it. The two of them have never spoken of it since. The most common way Albert shows his love is by noticing small things his friends like such as a certain seat at Jacobi’s, Finch’s favorite birds, or that one sandwich that Elmer likes and trying to clue them in when its available. He tries to be very subtle though and denies it if someone calls him out on it. Another very common thing for him to do is to tell the other boys to take a break if they’ve been selling a long time in the sun, if they are clearly stressed, or obviously sick. Albert saying to take a break is about the closest thing to an “I love you” that you can get.

Romeo: Our favorite hopeless romantic is pretty high on the scale of how affectionate the newsies are, but still not near JoJo and Jack’s level. Its not uncommon at all for him to walk up and give someone a hug, but he normally does it at the end of the day as people are getting back after selling as opposed to any other time. He is often a tired cuddler, but more often than not he is just pouty when he’s tired. One thing that is very common for him to do is to wrap his arms around someone and lean his head on their shoulder as everyone hangs out at Jacobi’s at the end of the day. His all time favorite thing to do is run up and grab someone’s hand while they walk and start swinging their hands inbetween them. The people he does this most often with are Les, Elmer, Crutchie, and Specs. Les and Romeo always end up swinging their hands as hard as they can and have been scolded by Davey several times for almost hurting someone. Elmer normally starts skipping with him, swinging their arms and seeing how fast they can go while keeping their steps in time, both of them sporting the dumbest gins the whole time. Romeo thinks its funny to do it to Crutchie because he is somehow almost always surprised (never opposed to it though). After his initial startled jerk, Crutchie normally just smiles at him, squeezes his hand a few times, and keeps walking. Specs is of course his favorite. Specs always gives him the warmest smile that makes Romeo melt every time and brings their intertwined hands up to place a kiss on the back of Romeo’s hand causing him to squeak and blush. Romeo also likes to hold hands with Jack, but Jack changes it to putting and arm around him while skipping down the sidewalk. One of the main ways Romeo shows affection is by randomly complementing/fliting with the boys. Most of them find it mildly annoying, but put up with him randomly popping up to tell them that their shirt really makes their eyes pop, and wow Finch, you should wear short sleeves more often. His other favorite thing to do is steal people’s hats. If their is a fight going on at the lodging house over a hat, 9 times out of 10 Romeo is the one who started it. He has gotten in trouble with Race a couple of times by stealing his cigars, but he knows Race wouldn’t actually hurt him. He and Race are very close, and Romeo often ends up climbing down from his bunk and slipping into Race’s below him. Ever since Romeo became a newsie he started seeing Race as an older brother, and while they’ve only acknowledge it once or twice during a midnight heart to heart and Race sometimes acts like he hates him by day, the two of them always look out for ad love each other very much.

#newsies #newsies headcanons #affectionate newsies #race higgins #albert dasilva #romeo #hope you all like this!

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gxrcias-gothgf · 5 years ago

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Darling- (Albert DaSilva X Higgins! Reader Imagine)

Requested: Albert, Race, or Davey with #2 and #5 "These walls are thin people." "I was so focused on being mad at you that I forgot what it was I was mad about." @luv-ya-hun

I decided to use Albert but I incorporated both Race and Davey into it

Warnings: mentions of injury and mad Albert

“Hey darling. I’ve got some time before I have to go help Davey and your brother on our project. How are you doing?” Albert said as he walked into the room.

“I’m good. What did they say about your shoulder?” Y/N set down the folded shirt in her hand and stepped away from the laundry basket.

“The doctor said I should be able to play again in two weeks. It’s only a slight rotator cuff tear,” Albert told Y/N as he sat on her bed. He smiled up at his girlfriend who’s face held a blank stare.

“That’s your third injury this season alone Albie. Maybe you need a break,” Y/N sighed as she sat next to the boy.

Albert grabbed the girl’s hand in his and sighed. “You know it’s a part of the game.”

“Is a stupid game worth you getting hurt every other week?” Y/N asked looking up at the boy. Albert’s head snapped up from looking at his hands.

“It’s not a stupid game.”

Y/N shook her head as she sighed. She just wanted Albert to take care of himself for once. She was always seeing him get hurt whether it be from baseball or getting in a fight to defend one of his friends. Somehow Albert always had some sort of injury that caused Y/N to worry about him.

“You know I want you to have a successful career and be happy. But if you don’t take a break I don’t think you will. You could injure yourself permanently. I don’t want to see that happen to you,” Y/N’s voice got quieter as she finished speaking.

“I can’t just quit on the boys. It’s our senior year. If I quit, then I won’t get scouted. You know I need a scholarship if I even want to think about college,” Albert moved his hand around trying to help prove his point.

“You already had scouts watch you play! If you keep getting hurt there won’t be a scholarship for you!” Y/N raised her voice and stood up.

“These walls are thin people!” The two heard the voice of Davey yell from the other side of the wall.

“I just hate seeing you hurt,” Y/N softly said after a moment of silence.

“I have to go work on the project. I’ll see you later,” Albert said before walking out the door and slightly slamming it.

Y/N sat on her bed and ran a hand through her hair, sighing. After a minute of sitting in silence, the girl went back to putting her laundry away.

“She expects me to give up on baseball because I got hurt. It feels like she doesn’t support my dream,” Albert said as he walked into Race’s bedroom.

“She doesn’t like seeing you hurt. She loves watching you play baseball Al. She absolutely loves it but she hates that she watches you get hurt. All Y/N wants is for you to be happy,” Race explained as he opened a bag of chips.

“Can we just work on the project now,” Albert said as he turned to the notebooks on the desk.

The next couple days the couple didn’t spend much time together other than lunch with their friends. Even then Albert barely said more than a few words to the girl. Their friends knew something was wrong with the two but didn’t ask. At this point Albert couldn’t even remember why exactly he was so upset about Y/N being worried about his well being.

“Let me just say, if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something and I eat one of you, I’m sorry,” Y/N said as she quoted Peter Parker while her and Davey sat on the couch.

“I do not want another single pop culture reference out of you for the movie do you understand?” Davey said as he gave Y/N a deadpan look as he put emphasis on the word movie.

“I’m trying to say something is coming,” Y/N gave a sarcastic smile before turning back to the screen.

After a couple minutes, there was a knock on the front door and Davey got up to get it. The tall boy opened the door to see Albert there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. Davey smiled and opened the door wider and stepped out of the way so Albert could walk into the living room.

“Hey darling can we talk?” Albert asked as he sat next to Y/N on the couch.

Y/N looked up at the boy and nodded before grabbing the remote to pause the movie. The boy handed his girlfriend the flowers that he was holding. She softly smiled at the boy before he started talking.

“I’m sorry. I was so focused on being mad at you that I forgot what it was I was about. I know you just want what’s best for me. I’m going to be taking it easy for the next couple weeks okay?” Albert explained as he laced his fingers with Y/N’s.

“I’m sorry too. I feel like I was being inconsiderate about what you want. I love you Albie,” Y/N smiled.

“I love you too darling,” Albert said as he kissed the girl’s forehead.

Y/N leaned in and pressed a kiss to Albert’s lips and squeaked when he tickled her sides.

“These walls are thin people!” Race yelled from the hallway when he heard his sister squeak.

“Alright you can come out of the hallway now Racer! You too Davey!” Y/N raised her voice and laughed as the two walked into the room and hopped on the couch next to the couple.

#newsies #newsies live #albert newsies #albert dasilva #albert x reader #albert dasilva x reader #racetrack higgins #davey jacobs #higgins reader #newsies imagines #newsies x reader

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chameleonwritess · 5 years ago

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Feels Like Home (Ch 1)

Myriad of Stars

Not-So-Secretly in Love

Feels Like Home (Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3)

Forever Starts Today (Epilogue)

Extras:

Infirmary Duties

Fandom: Percy Jackson

Pairing: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace

Nico's summer has been amazing thanks to Will but he isn't ready to face the following year when it ends. He knows there are going to be a lot of changes this year and that frightens Nico. Luckily, Will is there for him through everything.

Word Count: 7446

Read the whole Myriad of Stars series on AO3

Chapter 1- Demigods and Parents

Nico di Angelo was pretty sure that he’d had the best summer of his entire life.

Minus almost being destroyed by Gaia, of course, but he was grouping that with the rest of the year which had, quite frankly, been dreadful.

Still, as soon as the impending threat had vanished, Will Solace had stepped into Nico’s life and suddenly everything seemed to make sense. Nico had found not only a place where he belonged and could be himself but a person with whom he belonged and could be himself with. As the son of Hades, that in itself was a miracle Nico had never seen coming.

The fact that Will was attractive, funny, caring, utterly charming and the most infuriating demigod Nico had ever met just made everything so much better.

Of course, summer didn’t last forever, though. Nico knew it didn’t and yet he’d somehow hoped it would, causing reality to crash down around him during the last week of the holidays.

“My mom’s picking me up from Camp next week,” Will announced very suddenly one afternoon whilst the two were sitting inside Nico’s cabin, playing with some of Nico’s old mythomagic cards for the sake of nostalgia and because the two of them were huge nerds.

Nico’s eyes snapped up immediately.

“You’re going home?” he asked in a slightly strangled voice. So much for concealing his emotions.

“Not exactly,” Will said. Nico raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what that was supposed to mean.

“Meaning?”

“Well, I go to school but not properly,” Will started to explain, “We need a healer at Camp all the time and now that Lee’s dead, I’m the best healer we’ve got.”

“How does that work, then? I thought school was a full time thing?” Nico asked. He knew he’d been to school in Italy but the memories were very faint. He hadn’t even thought about going to school since; he’d always been too tied up in monsters, Titans, giants or whatever else was deciding to destroy the world.

“It usually is. My mum has a special agreement with the headteacher, though. I go to school for a few weeks each term so that I can collect all the work and then I return to Camp so that no one dies from falling off the lava wall or getting a leg sliced off in Capture the Flag,” Will explained.

“So you won’t be gone for long?” Nico checked. Will chuckled.

“Why, you gonna miss me?” he teased, nudging Nico’s leg with his own. Nico rolled his eyes.

“I was just thinking about how peaceful Camp would be without you. No Jackson bugging me, no Grace bugging me, no you bugging me,” he said wistfully.

“Hey!” Will complained, “we only bug you because we love you. Besides you were totally upset when I said I was going home after summer.”

“Was not,” Nico spluttered.

“Was too,” Will retorted.

“Not.”

“Too.”

“Alright, shut up, of course I was going to miss you,” Nico finally relented, shoving Will, who had decided to lean his body right over Nico’s, in the chest. It was suddenly dawning on Nico just how much he would miss Will, though.

Even before they’d started dating, Nico had still spent the majority of his time with Will and over the last month or so the two had practically been inseparable. Now he was going to have to go for weeks without seeing him. Nico already felt suffocated. Never had he expected to become so reliant on one person.

“Ha, that’s pretty gay,” Will smirked in retaliation to Nico pushing him. Nico inhaled deeply.

“I changed my mind, can you leave today?” he deadpanned. Will laughed and flopped down on his back besides Nico on the bed.

“I’m bored of mythomagic,” he stated.

“You get bored easily,” Nico shrugged.

“True, but I wanted to ask you something,” Will replied, looking up at Nico from the bed from what Nico assumed was not a very flattering angle on his behalf.

“Go on, then,” Nico encouraged with an unenthusiastic eye roll to accompany it.

“It’s going to be weird spending time apart after we’ve spent all summer together so I was wondering if you wanted to come over and stay at mine during the first weekend? My mom will love you, I can sense it, and she’s always happy to let my friends stay over,” Will offered.

Nico swallowed a lump in his throat. Meeting Will’s mom had not been something he’d ever even considered and being new to the twenty-first century, never mind just dating, made Nico panic a little that he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to act around a mother.

The only parental figure in his life was Hades and Nico doubted he could just nip down to the Underworld to pay his dad a visit and ask a few questions about his love life. It wasn’t really the father-son relationship they had.

“Don’t worry,” Will jumped in, noticing Nico’s hesitance, “it’s just an offer and I don’t want you to feel like you have to. I know you’ve probably not done anything like that before but just so you know, my mom is lovely. She’s the kindest woman I’ve met. She already knows I’m gay and will be so thrilled to meet you. I can already tell she’s going to love you.”

Nico raised an eyebrow. People didn’t exactly have a habit of ‘loving’ him upon first encounters.

“Really?” Nico asked, surprising even himself at how weak his voice sounded. Will sat up on the bed and placed his hands on Nico’s shoulders, forcing him to look into his dazzling blue eyes.

“I mean it. I’ve never disliked you and people say the two of us are pretty similar. She’s also one of the most stubborn people I know. When I was younger she’d keep me quarantined if I got a slight tickle in my throat so if you think I’m bad, wait till you meet her,” Will reassured Nico. He smiled slightly at Will’s anecdote.

“It’s hard to imagine anyone more stubborn than you,” Nico smirked.

“I’m not just Apollo’s good looks and charms, y’know,” Will teased, sending Nico a wink. Nico laughed at the action and allowed his head to fall against Will’s chest.

“I’ll think about it,” Nico agreed. Will wrapped his arms around Nico’s chest and kissed the top of his head.

“Thank you,” he said, “it means a lot to me.”

Nico still felt anxiety bubble up inside of him at the thought of spending a weekend with Will’s mother but after everything Will had done for him, this was the least he could do in return, especially if it meant a lot to Will.

He just wished it didn’t feel like such a big deal to him.

Will had to return to his own cabin before long (ever since it was confirmed that the two were together, the Apollo cabin had taken to threatening Will in order to ensure he returned back each night) and Nico was left to his own thoughts.

He knew how much Will’s mother meant to him. It wasn’t really school that Will was going home to- it was Naomi Solace. He always spoke so highly of her which just made Nico even more anxious. Normally, he didn’t care what people thought of him. The first time he’d realised he cared about what Will thought of him was when he’d begun to realise that he viewed Will as a little more than just ‘that annoying healer’.

Still, he hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to ensure Will actually liked him. Never before had he felt the need to make a dedicated effort to ensure someone didn‘t dislike him..

It was terrifying.

Nico also had literally no clue how he was supposed to interact with his boyfriend’s mother. The only adults he ever even spoke to were Chiron, Mr D, Hades and occasionally Persephone if he was in the mood for an argument. All of whom were immortal beings- definitely not mortal mothers.

Feeling Cabin 13 growing gradually stuffier as his panic increased, Nico stood up abruptly and decided he needed to take a walk outside to calm his nerves and get some fresh air. It was still half an hour until curfew so luckily, the cleaning Harpies wouldn’t be around to tear his flesh apart just yet.

Instead of wandering to Nico and Will’s usual spot, Nico continued further down until he was sat by the far edge of the canoe lake where few campers ever seemed to go. Nico himself rarely sat by this side of the lake, despite its proximity to the Hades cabin.

If Nico had been hoping for some brooding time to himself, though, he was severely disappointed as a tall, dark figure appeared from the darkness of the trees and made his way to Nico’s side. Nico had recognised him immediately.

“Father,” he greeted, sounding distinctly unimpressed with Hades’s sudden appearance.

“Hello, son. It’s been a while,” Hades commented. Nico looked at him sternly.

“You closed off the Underworld so I couldn’t enter,” he pointed out. Hades chuckled nervously, a sound that seemed utterly strange coming from the Lord of the Underworld.

“That I did. I apologise. It wasn’t to prevent you or Hazel from entering, I assure,” Hades said awkwardly. Nico let out a sigh.

“What is it that you want?” he asked. Whilst Nico knew he saw his Dad far more than other demigods saw their Olympian parents, Hades still only tended to appear when he wanted something from him. Either that or he was going to gift him a skeleton chef to go with his skeleton Chauffeur, Jules-Albert.

“I just wanted to catch up with you, Nico,” Hades said simply. Nico raised an eyebrow.

“That’s unnerving,” he commented. Hades sighed.

“I still can never tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” he complained. Nico shrugged. He wasn’t entirely sure whether he was or not, himself.

“Anyway,” Hades continued, “the Apollo sprout.”

Nico’s cheeks flushed, “Wait, this is about Will?”

“Oh, that’s his name. I couldn’t remember if it was Bill or Will. Yes. You seem… infatuated with him, correct?” Hades asked. Nico groaned and placed his head in his hands. The last conversation he’d ever wanted to have with his father was about his love life.

“Do you have to talk to me about this?” he asked.

“I’m not allowed to get involved with my son’s personal life?” Hades questioned. Nico nearly willed the ground to open up and swallow him. He was tempted to do it had he not known that Hades would just follow him anyway.

“Fine, yes, I’m happy with him. If you have a problem with it I don’t care,” he snapped. Hades looked almost taken aback.

“I have no problem. In fact, I’m quite relieved. He isn’t Jackson or Grace and he has a good sense of humour,” Hades said in an almost approving tone. Nico’s father’s words suddenly sunk in. How did Hades know that Will had a sense of humour?

“Have you been watching me?” Nico spluttered. If Hades skin hadn’t still been so deathly pale, Nico would have thought he was going red.

“Not exactly. I just like to check up on you sometimes. I noticed an abnormal amount of laughing so wanted to assure you were okay,” Hades explained. Now it was Nico’s turn to go red.

“Yeah, well, he does have a good sense of humour,” he mumbled. Hades nodded thoughtfully.

“Invite him down for dinner,” Hades suggested, “I’d like to meet him personally.”

“Please don’t threaten my boyfriend,” Nico begged, thinking how strange it was to refer to Will as his boyfriend in front of someone else for once.

“I would never. I simply want to get to know him better. If the Apollo sprout is important to you, he should be important to me, too,” Hades stated.

“He can’t eat food from the Underworld, y’know,” Nico added.

Hades glared at him, “Do you take me for a fool, Nico? I am well aware of that.”

“Of course, sorry,” Nico apologised, rolling his eyes, “I’ll have to discuss it with him. He- er- might be a little apprehensive about nipping down to the Underworld just for dinner.”

Hades nodded in understanding and if Nico didn’t know better, he would have said Hades almost looked hurt by his comment.

“I hear you’re going to visit his mortal mother,” he finally added after a moment of silence. Nico groaned again.

“Do you listen in to all of our conversations?” he asked, wondering exactly what his father had overheard.

“No. Just that one. I was planning to pay you a visit but noticed you were preoccupied,” he said. Nico flushed and tried not to think about what Hades had overheard or accidentally observed.

“I don’t know if I’m going to visit her or not, though,” Nico explained, “I’m… nervous.”

“Naturally,” Hades nodded, “my own relationship with Demeter has not been ideal over the years since I married Persephone.”

Nico didn’t point out that there may well be a reason for that. He also didn’t point out that Hades was definitely not helping his nerves calm down.

“Right,” Nico stated, “any helpful advice or were you just here to interrogate me?”

“I just wanted to see that you were happy,” Hades said, “I know it isn’t easy being my son. You deserve a good life.”

Nico had had this sort of conversation with his father before. Last time, he’d thought to himself that there was no way he’d ever be truly happy. Now he felt as though his old self really had been wrong. Life felt pretty great for Nico right now.

“Thanks,” Nico said, allowing a genuine smile to cross his face, “you don’t need to worry. Will does make me pretty happy.”

It felt weird to say so to his dad but it was the truth.

“I can tell,” Hades smiled in response, “I think the Harpies are coming. I should probably let you get back to your cabin.”

Nico nodded and got to his feet again. Hades had already turned around and was walking away back into the darkness.

“Dad,” Nico blurted out on impulse, before his father walked away. Hades turned around in shock. It was the first time Nico had referred to him as anything other than ‘father’ or ‘Hades’. “Thank you for checking up on me,” Nico finished.

Hades looked at him and gave a warm smile, something that looked so foreign on his usually cold and stern face.

With that, Hades vanished into the darkness and Nico was left alone again to clamber back up to his cabin before the cleaning Harpies swooped in to eat him for their dinner.

He’d made his mind up about what he was going to do- he was going to visit Will’s mom. Family was important, after all.

It was the last day of summer before Nico knew it and there was a very melancholic feel around Camp. Whilst some campers never went to school, instead staying on at Camp year-round like Nico planned on doing, there were an awful lot of people leaving for the year, some of them for good.

Percy and Annabeth were the first to say goodbye to Nico.

“We’re going to go to college in New Rome,” Annabeth explained to Nico when they caught him wandering past the big house, “but Percy needs to pass his SATs first.”

“It’s going to be a painful year of studying,” Percy added with a grin. Nico huffed a laugh. He couldn’t remember what going to school was like but from what he’d heard, studying was not a fun activity.

“Yeah, I don’t envy you,” Nico said. Percy shrugged.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back to visit soon. Probably sooner than I want knowing how things tend to go at this place. I don’t doubt that gods will have some new problem that needs fixing soon,” he added.

“Don’t you miss the days when you were told not to go on a quest and snuck your way onto it anyway?” Annabeth asked with a nostalgic sigh.

“I would gladly go back and smack my younger self. What was I thinking?” Percy laughed. Nico could sympathise with that.

“At least you didn’t go crazy and start raising dead spirits,” Nico pointed out. Percy laughed harder.

“True, true,” he said and before the three of them knew it, they were laughing about all the ridiculous trouble and near death experiences they’d had over the years.

Nico had never considered using humour as a coping mechanism considering laughing was something he rarely found himself doing, but as he found himself recounting tales with Percy and Annabeth, he realised the memories didn’t hold quite as much sting as they usually did. Nico absent-mindedly wondered if that had been partly Will’s influence on him.

“Remember the time I gatecrashed my own funeral?” Percy asked Annabeth. She burst into laughter again.

“I was about to go saying all this nice stuff about him and then he just wanders over like it was no big deal,” Annabeth said.

“Oh, Nico, what about that time you came over to my house on my birthday to tell me to take a swim in the Styx but got distracted by cake,” Percy reminded him.

“What was I thinking?” Nico asked with a laugh, “at least the cake was good.”

“Sally’s blue food is the best,” Annabeth agreed as Percy wrapped an arm around both her and Nico, squeezing them into a group hug. Nico reluctantly complied. He didn’t mind it anywhere near as much as he pretended to.

“I’m gonna miss you a lot, Nico. You’d better visit us in New Rome, too,” Percy said, “don’t pretend you don’t know me this time!”

Nico smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Hopefully this time you won’t be losing your memory,” Annabeth scolded as she gently smacked him on the arm.

“I never forgot you, Wise Girl,” Percy said fondly and Nico averted his eyes, already knowing what was about to happen. He scanned the inside of the Big House as he looked away, peering into the infirmary to see if he could spot Will. Will hadn’t said goodbye yet so Nico hoped he didn’t plan on leaving without doing so.

Percy and Annabeth didn’t kiss for long due to Nico’s presence which he was grateful for. He was also glad to notice that he didn’t feel any twinge of jealousy towards Annabeth at all anymore. Percy was just a normal guy to him now. A friend, even.

“I really am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you over the years,” Nico apologised. Percy shrugged.

“Don’t sweat it. I’ve caused you trouble, too. Besides, it’s what friends are for,” he grinned, using his knuckle to mess up Nico’s hair as Nico attempted to bat his hand away. Annabeth laughed.

“Look after everyone at Camp for us, Nico,” Annabeth smiled, “I trust you to make sure everything stays orderly.”

“As orderly as Camp Halfblood can get,” Nico pointed out as an appropriately timed fight broke out behind them on the volleyball court between an Ares and an Aphrodite kid.

“Don’t go breaking Will’s heart,” Percy added with a wink. Nico rolled his eyes and flushed red.

“Shut up,” he complained, “I will miss you guys, though. Camp will feel strange without you here.”

Percy and Annabeth smiled so widely at Nico’s admission that he almost regretted it. He regretted it even more when the two engulfed him in another huge hug.

“Goodbye till whenever we next see you, then,” Percy said. Nico nodded.

“Enjoy college,” he greeted. Annabeth smiled.

“Oh, he’s going to love it,” she smirked a little evilly. Nico chuckled and gave them one last wave as the two made their way over to the top of Halfblood Hill where they would undoubtedly be swamped with even more Campers wanting to say goodbye.

Camp really was going to be weird without Percy and Annabeth there. Nico had never really stayed without them there since the time he sent Percy off on the quest his sister died on. All of that felt like aeons ago to him, now.

“It doesn’t seem real, does it?” a familiar voice came from behind Nico. Will had snuck up on him and wrapped his arms around Nico’s waist which he’d usually complain about in such open view of all the camp but it was Will’s last day before he went home for a while and his arms were warm. It wasn’t because Nico actually liked when Will held him like this or anything.

“Percy and Annabeth have just always… been around,” Nico agreed, “I guess I can visit them but it just feels like they’re going away.”

“Jason and Piper are going to New Rome for the year, too, aren’t they?” Will asked. Nico nodded, hoping Will could feel the movement of his head against his chest.

“And you’re gonna be gone. Camp’s going to feel pretty lonely,” Nico pointed out. Will released his arms around Nico and grabbed his shoulders instead, turning him around to face him. His face didn’t look mad but Nico could sense a certain anger behind his eyes.

“That doesn’t give you an excuse to shadow travel off anywhere you like,” Will said, “you’d better still be here when I return each holiday.”

Nico rolled his eyes, “I know, I’ll stay here, I promise. I might go and visit Hazel once or twice but other than that-“

“Good,” Will interrupted him with a sigh of relief, “I think you have some visitors that want to talk to you, though.”

Nico turned around to see where Will was looking. Piper and Jason were stood at the other side of the Big House, observing the scene at a distance. Nico could already tell the two had been spying on them and sent a premature glare in their direction.

“Go on, I’ll wait here,” Will promised with a smirk. Nico nodded at him and made his way over to them.

“So,” Jason started, “this is it for a year.”

“Don’t say that,” Piper accused, “you can still come and visit us. Reyna, Hazel and Frank would want you to visit too.”

“I know,” Nico agreed, “I will do. I hope you both have a good year.”

“I’ll miss you, Nico. Stay safe at camp. We’re only an Iris message away,” Jason reminded him. Nico nodded and felt the beginnings of tears prickling his eyes. He quickly blinked them away but Piper was doing nothing to hide her tears.

“Aww, Neeks,” she sobbed and then threw her arms around him. Nico almost fell back from the impact but slowly embraced Piper back if slightly awkwardly.

“Don’t call me that,” Nico complained but there was no annoyance in his tone. Jason sniffed loudly and Nico glanced over Piper’s shoulder to notice that Jason too was getting teary-eyed. Nico lifted one of his arms and Jason took the invitation, enveloping Nico in a hug too.

As both Piper and Jason were taller than him, he found it difficult to breathe pretty quickly and had to stretch his neck to free his mouth.

“Guys, you’re kind of crushing me,” he spluttered. Jason and Piper released him immediately with apologies rolling off their tongues.

“We will really miss you,” Piper said.

“Yeah,” Jason added, “you’ve changed a lot in just the short space of time we’ve known you. I’m really glad.”

“Well, I think you know who to blame for that,” Nico smirked, throwing a look over his shoulder at where Will, as promised, was still standing.

“Take good care of him,” Piper said with a wink, “have you made up your mind yet?”

Nico took a deep breath in and nodded.

“I know what I need to do,” he said, “and Jason, Will may have helped me but you were the catalyst that set the reaction off. You accepted me when I felt like no one could and I- just- thank you,” Nico managed to stammer out.

Jason looked like he was going to cry again and before Nico knew it, he had been enveloped in yet another hug. Feeling left out, Piper joined in again, squeezing the two boys tightly.

“You really need to stop trying to kill me,” Nico gasped for breath, “There’s still plenty of monsters left to do that.”

Piper and Jason laughed as they relented their tight grip.

“Don’t die whilst we’re gone,” Piper instructed. Nico gave her a wry smile.

“I’ll try not to. Make sure Jason doesn’t get himself killed, too,” Nico said.

“I can look after myself!” Jason complained. Piper laughed and Nico gave a snort.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about,” he said dryly. Jason rolled his eyes and pouted before taking Piper’s hand.

“We’d better go and say our goodbyes to Percy and Annabeth before we take off,” Jason said, “we’ll see you soon, Nico.”

Nico lifted a hand in a half-hearted wave.

“Yeah, I’ll see you.”

And with that, he departed and made his way back up the hill to Will. This was his next goodbye and he knew this one would be the hardest even if he’d only be spending a short time away. Luckily, he had until that evening. Whilst most campers left in the afternoon, Will’s mom worked a day shift at the hospital so could only pick him up later on in the day.

“You okay?” Will asked with a concerned look as Nico approached. Nico wiped away any stray tears that may have been remaining at the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah,” he lied, “just going to miss everyone.”

“Aw, you’re such a softy,” Will teased, hugging Nico from the side, “help me clear up in the infirmary before I leave? It needs to pass inspection.”

“You’re the one inspecting it, you nerd,” Nico complained with an eye roll. His complaints ended when Will pecked his cheek and grabbed his hand, pulling Nico inside the Big House.

As soon as they stepped inside, Will switched straight over into Doctor mode, something Nico was pretty used to by then.

“I need all the thermometers back in the tub on the second shelf up and bring me some latex gloves whilst you’re there- someone’s left medical waste on the table,” Will instructed. Nico nodded and turned around to go to the back before adding,

“Is that a shelf I can actually reach this time?” recalling an incident only a week or so ago.

Will raised his eyebrow in response as he turned around with stethoscopes in his hand.

“I doubt you’d complain much if it wasn’t,” he said pointedly. Nico blushed and muttered a quiet ‘Shut up’ before marching into the back.

Nico was pretty sure Will hadn’t been the last person in here because the boxes were a mess. Will was such a perfectionist when it came to organising the infirmary that Nico knew he’d probably need medical attention himself if he came in and saw the state it had been left in.

With a sigh, Nico shoved the thermometers in the box on the second shelf and started work sorting through the other boxes, attempting to return everything to their correct place.

Nico hadn’t remembered about bringing Will the gloves until a pair of hands tickled his waist and caused him to make an embarrassingly high pitched squeal, dropping the packs of gauze he was holding.

“Sorry,” Will chuckled quietly in Nico’s ear, sending a shiver down Nico’s spine, “what’s taking so long?”

Nico picked up the gauze and stood on his tiptoes to put it back in the box before turning around to face Will.

The son of Apollo was stood closer than Nico had realised and his hands were still hovering over Nico’s waist, ready to pull him even closer. Nico’s heart caught in his throat as he felt his breath catch. Will still had an uncanny knack of taking his breath away. It was very infuriating.

“It- mess- decided to sort it,” Nico said intelligently. If he’d been hoping to disguise from Will how much his sudden presence and closeness had affected him, he was doing a pretty lousy job.

“What?” Will asked, having not understood Nico, not surprisingly. Nico took a breath in and tried to remember how to compose comprehensible sentences as he looked up at Will’s blue eyes.

“Someone messed everything up. I was trying to sort it out again because I know you don’t like it disorganised,” Nico finally managed to say without sounding completely stupid.

Will looked down at Nico with a soft smile on his face. Nico was glad that it seemed he’d actually done the right thing.

“Thank you,” Will said quietly, leaning down so that his nose bumped Nico’s gently. Nico’s breath was taken away once again as Will’s hands tightened around his waist. He wondered if there was such thing as dying from spending too long too close to your boyfriend. Nico at least hoped his father would take pity and resurrect him if that did happen.

After what felt like way too long, Will finally tilted his head and captured Nico’s lips. Letting out a sigh, Nico reached up, wound a hand in Will’s hair and pulled the blond against him hungrily. Will was far too much of a tease and Nico wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

Will didn’t seem to be complaining as Nico kissed him back harder, though, instead letting his hands move from Nico’s waist to his back, one of them slipping underneath Nico’s black t-shirt and tracing the bare skin on his spine. Nico shivered at the touch, despite Will’s hands being as warm as always. Will was permanently warm. Nico suspected it was because he was Apollo’s son but he didn’t really care- he only cared about whether those hands were touching him.

Nico pulled back to take a breath for a second but Will had other ideas, chasing Nico’s mouth with his own and pressing their bodies together again. Nico felt his back touch the shelves behind him and he removed his hands from Will’s hair to place them on the shelves and push the two of them off. He hadn’t just spent all that time organising them for Will to ruin it, no matter what his tongue was doing as it slid into Nico’s mouth and elicited a gasp from him.

“Don’t ruin my tidying,” Nico murmured against Will’s lips.

“Nico, shut up and let me kiss you, I don’t care about the tidying,” Will muttered in response, not giving Nico a chance to respond further as he kissed Nico again, the hot press of his lips making Nico finally give in and decide that the shelves really didn’t matter all that much.

He allowed Will to push him back against them this time as the taller boy’s tongue returned to his mouth. Whilst Nico did like to be the one leading the kiss, drawing small noises out of Will and leaving him a blushing mess, he definitely was not about to complain if Will wanted to push him up against a wall and kiss him senseless.

“Nico,” Will moaned lightly, the sound of his name on Will’s lips causing blood to rush straight to Nico’s cheeks and possibly other places he was trying hard to ignore. Nico just pulled Will’s lips back to his.

The sudden sound of a horn caused Nico and Will to jump apart in shock, Nico’s head hitting against the shelf above him and Will’s nose bumping into his a little harder than anticipated.

“Ow,” Nico said, not entirely sure his mouth was capable of forming any more than a sound at that moment anyway.

“I guess it’s time for dinner,” Will said breathlessly, “I can’t believe I didn’t manage to clean the infirmary.”

Nico rolled his eyes at Will’s pout.

“Don’t blame me, I was trying to help. Besides, you’re the inspector so it doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. Will scoffed.

“It’s basic patient hygiene, di Angelo,” he said, sounding scandalised, “and don’t feign innocence, you were being too distracting.”

“I was literally just tidying a cupboard,” Nico pointed out.

“Exactly,” Will teased, draping an arm over Nico’s shoulder as they made their way out of the Big House and to the mess hall, “distracting.”

Nico blushed and rolled his eyes.

“Catch me after dinner- I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye,” Will ordered. Nico nodded in agreement.

“Me neither,” he said. Will gave his shoulder one last squeeze before releasing Nico and going over to the Apollo cabin, now consisting of only Kayla, Austin and Will.

Nico sat himself down at the Big Three table that was feeling even more vacant. Percy and Jason had both left, leaving Nico alone. He hated sitting alone to eat. He never would have admitted it to Percy and Jason but it did really help having them there when they’d first suggested the idea.

When Nico sat alone to eat, it brought back memories. Memories of buying Happy Meals in desperate attempts to speak to his sister. Memories of sitting trapped in a jar, surviving only off pomegranate seeds and thinking that no one was coming to save him- he would die alone.

They weren’t exactly memories Nico wanted to dwell on, especially now that his life was looking up for once, but the scars ran deep and no amount of happiness would ever truly dispel the nightmares and feelings of hopelessness that occasionally threatened to overcome Nico.

Absent-mindedly, Nico wondered if it would be at all possible for him to convince Chiron that he needed to sit with other people to stop his powers from playing up. Maybe Chiron would let him sit with Will if the son of Apollo played his ‘I’m a doctor’ card.

For a second, Nico was tempted to raise skeletons right there and then but thought better of it. Will would be leaving Camp in about an hour, anyway.

Distracted from his own memory with thoughts of Will, Nico happily bit into his pepperoni pizza.

Despite Will’s promise that he would say goodbye to Nico before he left, Nico spotted the son of Apollo leaving his cabin with a packed bag and heading in the direction of Halfblood Hill- not in the direction of the Hades cabin.

Luckily, Nico had been paying attention so muttering to himself in aggravation, Nico shrugged on his aviator jacket to guard against the cool evening breeze and stormed out of his cabin, not caring that the door slammed shut behind him.

Due to Will’s naturally larger strides (curse his long legs), Nico had to jog to catch up and finally reached him just as he arrived at the top of the hill.

“Going somewhere?” Nico asked pointedly. Will jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Ah, Nico!” he gasped, “uh, sorry, I was going to come and say goodbye but, well-“ Will broke off with a shrug and Nico raised an eyebrow at him. With a glance down the hill, he spotted a woman with curly brown hair, blue eyes as clear as Will’s. Her face was smattered with freckles and she wore a smile Nico would recognise anywhere. She was Naomi Solace- unmistakably Will’s mother.

“Oh,” Nico muttered, drawing his attention back to Will. He’d felt a hint of panic rise up inside him at the sight of Naomi accompanied with the disappointment that Will hadn’t intended to say goodbye to him. Nico was going to be spending a weekend with just her and Will way sooner than he was prepared for.

A thought suddenly hit Nico as to why Will hadn’t been going to say goodbye and it was completely and utterly Nico’s fault.

“Oh!” Nico repeated in realisation as he grabbed Will’s arms, “Will, I forgot to tell you- I made up my mind. I want to visit you at the weekend. I mean, if the offer still stands.”

Will’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Why didn’t you just say so, you idiot?” he asked and before Nico could even respond, Will dropped his bags and picked Nico up, spinning him round. Nico had to try hard not to shriek in shock as he grabbed Will’s shoulders to steady himself.

Still laughing, Will placed him back on the ground and hugged him.

“Of course the offer still stands,” Will promised, “do you want to meet my mom now? She’s heard a lot about you through Iris messages.”

Nico didn’t even think before he answered.

“Yeah, sure!” completely forgetting to panic. Will grinned and grabbed Nico’s hand, picking up his bags again and pulling Nico down the hill with him. They were through the magical Mist barrier before Nico knew it and he was faced with the most daunting task of his entire life. Talking to Will’s mother.

“Will!” Naomi Solace squealed as soon as the two demigods stumbled past the magical barrier. Nico didn’t even complain when Will released his hand so he could engulf his mother in a huge hug.

He was easily taller than her, resting his head on top of her’s as he hugged her. Nico guessed she was about the same height as he was.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, “you haven’t been overworking yourself, I hope. If you have a single blister on your hand from over-healing then I swear-“

Whatever Naomi Solace had intended to say next was forgotten as she pulled her son in for another hug. Nico couldn’t help but smile slightly as he observed the scene, despite the panic still rising inside him. At least Will would be in good hands away from camp; Nico doubted he needed to worry too much about Will overexerting himself.

Still, if there was a monster-

Nico shook the thought out of his head quickly. Will had always been fine in previous years. He was going to be fine now. His scent wasn’t as strong as Nico, Percy or Jason’s anyway- he wasn’t a son of the Big Three.

“Mom,” Will whined in complaint, pushing her away, “I’m fine, honestly.”

Despite his complaints, Nico knew how much Will had actually missed his mother. He never shut up about it.

Just then, Naomi happened to look up over Will’s shoulder and her eyes connected with Nico’s. He felt his heart rate immediately pick up in fear. She was going to hate him already.

“Will, I think there’s someone you might be forgetting to introduce me to,” Naomi said, raising an eyebrow at her son expectantly in a way Will so often did to Nico whenever he forgot to look after a wound or help out in the hospital. Nico was already starting to realise exactly why Apollo had been so taken with her. She had a lot of similarities to her son.

“Oh!” Will seemed to realise as his eyes shone. He grinned and walked over to Nico again, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards his mother. Nico allowed himself to be pulled and stood there in shock. “Mom, this is Nico.”

“So you’re the guy Will won’t shut up about when he Iris messages me,” Naomi Solace said with a sly smile. Nico felt his cheeks heat up. He was supposed to say something now.

“Um,” Nico started, “it’s nice to meet you. Will talks about you a lot, too.”

“Oh, does he?” Naomi Solace asked, turning to Will.

“Pfft, as if,” Will pretended but his mom just tackled him in another hug.

“You big softie,” she teased, “you do love your old mom after all.”

“Mom, stop, you’re embarrassing me in front of Nico,” Will complained, attempting to flatten his hair again when his mom released him. Nico fought the urge to run his fingers through it. Will’s mother was right there.

“It really is lovely to meet you, though, Nico. I’m really glad Will’s found someone as good to him as you,” Naomi turned to Nico again, still smiling.

“Good to me?” Will huffed. Nico elbowed him.

“Thank you, Miss Solace,” he said, “I do my best to keep him in check.”

“Please, just call me Naomi. Or mom if you want- anything’s fine by me!” Naomi said. Nico thought he would have felt a little bit awkward calling her ‘mom’ but it didn’t seem like she completely hated him so that was a good thing at least. “I don’t know how you manage- he really is a nightmare.”

“Trust me, I know,” Nico smirked, surprised at how easily he was managing to have a conversation. He hadn’t messed up. He could do this.

Will was apparently not as pleased with his achievement.

“Nico! Mom! I didn’t introduce you to each other so you could gang up against me,” he complained.

“You should have expected this, really,” Nico pointed out.

“Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t even know us,” Naomi shook her head in offense.

“Mom!” Will whined.

“Sorry, did you hear something, Nico?” she asked in a sly tone.

“Nothing at all,” Nico agreed with a shake of his head.

“I changed my mind, you’re uninvited this weekend,” Will huffed.

“You agreed to come?” Naomi asked suddenly, turning to Nico excitedly. Nico had never seen anyone look so glad at the news that he was going to be somewhere.

“Oh, um, I-I’d like to if you don’t mind,” Nico stuttered. Naomi grinned.

“Of course I don’t mind! The more the merrier. I’m sure you’ll help me wind up Will, too,” she said.

“I wouldn’t ever pass up the opportunity,” Nico promised. The tenseness of first meeting Naomi Solace was slowly easing away and he felt his shoulders relaxing. He wondered what he’d ever been so worried about. Naomi was lovely and she shone just as brightly as her son. Maybe Will hadn’t received his sunny disposition from his father, after all.

“Right, I’m leaving,” Will huffed, folding his arms stubbornly. Nico nudged him with his hip.

“So I really don’t get a goodbye?” he asked.

“Will, were you really about to leave without even saying goodbye to Nico?” Naomi asked in shock.

“I wasn- no- I just-“ Will stammered.

“Yes,” Nico interjected. Naomi looked at him sternly.

“It’s a good job your boyfriend actually cares about saying goodbye to you, then, isn’t it?” she pointed out. Nico’s cheeks flushed at the words. It felt weird for Will’s own mother to say that. Weird in a not entirely unpleasant way. “Go on, I’ll wait in the car and I promise I won’t look.”

“Mom!” Will protested, “that means you totally will.”

Naomi shrugged her shoulders and took Will’s bag, taking them back to her blue Honda.

“So I’ll see you this weekend,” Nico said after a moment’s silence. Will smiled at him.

“Thank you. I know this isn’t easy for you but you’ve already done such a good job just talking to her. She really likes you,” Will said.

“All I’ve done is insult you,” Nico muttered. Will laughed and put his hand on Nico’s upper arm.

“I know, but you’ve made an effort to find something in common with her and talk about it. You think you’re bad at talking to people but you just did a really good job of it,” he explained. Nico chewed his lower lip as he considered Will’s words. He hadn’t even been thinking about it like that.

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded, “but I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’ll always be here if you need me,” Will promised in a soft voice, pulling Nico even closer to him.

“Your mom is watching,” Nico reminded Will although he wasn’t really sure he minded, Will’s closeness sending a frenzy of incoherent thoughts scattering around his brain.

“I don’t care,” Will said, his breath dusting over Nico’s lips. Nico didn’t care either as he closed the distance between them, raising himself onto his tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss on Will’s lips.

Will pulled away way sooner than Nico would have liked but it was still enough to leave his head feeling fuzzy and his lips tingling with warmth.

“Goodbye,” Will said.

“Goodbye,” Nico repeated, releasing Will’s top from where he’d grabbed hold of it to kiss him. Will smiled softly as he trailed his hand along Nico’s arm, releasing it, before walking away towards where Naomi Solace was waiting for him in the car. Nico smiled and waved as he watched Will go before turning around and heading back through the magical border and up Halfblood Hill.

He only had to wait until weekend.

#solangelo #percy jackson #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #willico #solangelo fanfic #my fanfic #fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #hoo #heroes of olympus #myriad of stars

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turtle-steverogers · 5 years ago

Text

Sand Dollars- a Ralbert War Story

heheh hi guys im in college now and im posting a thing hello

also i know I KNOW that fugitives and titanium need some love

they will GET that love, i promise

ok ok now for the lowdown on this story-

warnings: none for this chap, but OH BOOY will there be some warnings in the future. this is not a happy story

ship: ralbert, some kinda spalbert (but not romantic. its like,,,,platonic ish)

word count: 3228

editing: no, so plz excuse any shit

CHAP 1

June, 2006

Albert tugged at the collar of his uniform, inwardly cursing the stifling heat of the shaky boeing aircraft he’d been trapped on for the past fifteen hours. A thin sheen of sweat covered his entire being and he pushed a hand through his hair, wrinkling his nose a little at the short length of his regulation cut. He usually liked to keep his hair on the longer side when off-duty, framing his face and curling at the nape of his neck. And even though he supposed he should be used to the short, crew cut by now, he didn’t have to like it. Besides, the longer hair suited his face better. Or so that’s what he was always told.

The announcement of their descent echoed through the plane and Albert sighed, vaguely wishing he’d pissed one more time before the fasten seatbelt sign flashed on again. The eclectic mix of uniform service members that surrounded him began shifting around, readjusting their seats back to their original positions and stowing their tray tables.

Albert rolled his eyes minutely, realizing that he should probably do the same before some asshole called him out for it. Everything always needed to be perfect around these people. Dress right dress and all that crap.

But as much as all this shit gave him a headache, there was no place he’d rather be.

His circumstances growing up had been less than ideal. A dead mother at nine and an absent father at eleven had gotten him dumped into the foster care system with his two brothers (who he eventually got separated from and hadn’t heard from since. Which he definitely wasn’t still fucking devastated about. No, he was good at moving on and dealing with his shit. Yeah, very good). No less than fourteen homes later, he turned 18 and finally, finally, he was done being some fucking ward of the state.

But fourteen homes meant just as many, if not more, schools. And when you’re being shoved from household to household with nothing but a couple bags filled with clothes and other absolute essentials, you don’t really have time to do well in school or apply to colleges.

The National Guard had sounded like a blessing at the time. An absolute saving grace with health and financial benefits to last him a literal lifetime. He always had been good at listening to directions and taking orders, so he figured he’d be a perfect fit. And he had.

Those first few years between enlisting and basic training had been some of the best of Albert’s life. He’d made bonds to last him a lifetime, felt the thrill of having something that was his and he was good at. He had found purpose where he previously had none.

Then three planes had gone and crashed into the Twin Towers and Pentagon and everything went to shit.

Albert and one of his buddies from Basic, Sean (who went by Spot, but nobody knew why. Albert had asked once and Spot had just smiled and kicked him in the shin) were living in New York at the time, having moved into a little apartment on the Upper East Side. The morning of September 11 had yielded one of the clearest, bluest skies Albert had seen in his entire life.

He remembered waking up to a call from his squad leader, barely able to comprehend the situation through his killer fucking hangover. He and Spot really hadn’t planned on getting hammered on a Monday night, but sometimes life in your early 20s just happened like that.

The next four days had been a blur of smoke, sirens, debri, and dust. So much dust. It had taken weeks for Albert to feel like the damn stuff was finally out of his lungs and if he still thought about it too hard, a phantom tickle would creep up in his chest.

He tried not to think about that week too much. Spot and him had returned home around the same time, both in varying states of exhaustion and dissociation. They didn’t discuss what they had individually been through, but an unspoken understanding of the nightmare they’d both witnessed had led them into the same bed that night, the need to forget shrouding everything else.

Albert and Spot’s relationship wasn’t anything that could be truly named. They weren’t best friends. They weren’t boyfriends. They weren’t fuckbuddies. But they understood each other better than anyone Albert had ever known in his 27 years on this god forsaken earth. And in that understanding, the knowledge that sometimes you just need to feel good for a night went without having to be spoken. Feeling good didn’t just mean sex, though. They cuddled a fair amount too, which was strange considering how touch averse Spot was with other people. During their first deployment, though, several long days had led to quiet nights spent in each others arms, where they allowed themselves to forget the horrors they were subject to witness and just be.

They were basically inseparable. So when the heavens happened upon them and they were to be deployed into the same battalion again, despite Albert climbing through the ranks and surpassing Spot by a fair deal, he had silently thanked a god he hadn’t prayed to since eight years old.

Leaving home was easy, mostly because Albert didn’t have anyone to leave behind. Spot was already overseas, having left a couple weeks earlier while Albert finished up some things down at the Pentagon. While being deployed sucked, Albert at least had Spot to look forward to.

The plane jolted, tilting a little as it made it made its final descent into the Tal Afar Airport. Albert leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes and white knuckling the armrests. He was a fine flyer once the plane was up in the air, but taking off and landing fucked him upside down and sideways.

He was just beginning to count his breaths, clamping down the rolling waves of motion sickness, when a low voice spoke next to him.

“Are you alright, sir?” Albert cracked open an eye, glancing sideways at the person next to him, “Not a fan of flying?”

The guy looked...rugged. There was no other word for it. His black hair was cut close to his head, well within regulation and looking a little patchy at the sides. His wide set eyes were sharp and calculating, glinting with something like mischief that would unsettle Albert if he hadn’t seen that look a million times over in the mirror. He looked younger than Albert by a good few years and the lack of shadows in his gaze and on his face cast a look of innocence over him. Albert remembered those days- when naivety led him to a false sense of security. He had been untouchable; indestructible.

“Only take off and landing,” Albert said, clearing his throat and putting on what had to look like a strained smile. He pried his right hand off the armrest and held it out for the guy to shake, “First Sergeant Albert Dasilva. Good to meet ya.”

The guy had a firm handshake and he didn’t seem to mind that Albert’s palm was a little sweaty from nerves, “Private Elmer Kasprzak.”

Albert smiled, “First time in the Sandbox?”

Elmer smiled, looking a little self deprecating, “That obvious, sir?”

Albert shook his head, aiming for comforting, but still sounding vaguely choked, “I just know the look. Way too excited.”

“Oh,” Elmer furrowed his brow, looking like he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, “I’m just happy to finally be on the frontline, sir.”

“I commend you,” Albert said, wistfully, “It’s a brave thing to be doing with such a strong attitude.”

Elmer blushed, “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to tack ‘sir’ onto every sentence,” Albert assured him, “Some guys are really strict about that, so keep in the habit, but I’m not too picky.”

“Oh, okay s- uh, okay,” Elmer flushed deeper and Albert chuckled a little bit patting his knee.

The plane touched down with a jerk and Albert closed his eyes again briefly while it slowed. Eventually, it came to a stop and the fasten seatbelt sign flashed off. Albert reopened his eyes to see Elmer staring out the window, awe and apprehension noticeable through the look in his eyes and the crease between his brows.

“C’mon, Private,” Albert said, unbuckling and clapping the younger man’s shoulder, “we got places to be.”

XXX

Getting assigned last minute to a completely new battalion and then being shipped overseas two weeks later was not how Race suspected he’d be spending his first year out of West Point. He didn’t mind really. He hadn’t really had any true connections to his old squad and after his little incident with Oscar Delancey, a new start was appreciated.

That didn’t make the whiplash of deployment any less bittersweet.

His nerves hadn’t stopped twisting since General Kelly had informed him of his new assignment, going back and forth between excitement and paralyzing anxiety until his gut was furling with both simultaneously. But now that he was here, things were starting to settle within him. This was his life now and it was going to be his life for the next twelve months. Better get used to it.

He put the last of his shirts in one of his dresser drawers, casting a cursory glance around his side of the room, before eyeing his cheap, Walmart alarm clock. 09:45. The next wave of soldiers should be arriving soon and with them, his roommate.

A wave of anticipation rolled through Race’s stomach and he grimaced. He had yet to make any meaningful connections with his soldiers so far, many of them wary of having a new CO. But he was a people person and this alienation was killing him, even though he understood their hesitation. Part of him hoped that whoever his roommate ended up being wouldn’t hold the same vigilance towards him. Maybe he could even make a friend. Someone he could theoretically get a drink with. Completely hypothetically, of course. Drinking wasn’t allowed on base.

Sighing, Race grabbed his patrol cap, cramming it onto his head and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his desk. He bounded down the stairs to his trailer and made his way over to the coffee line, nodding his greeting at a small clique of soldiers as he passed. He only got a couple nods in return, and every single one of them wore matching, judgemental looks. Race tried not to take it to heart.

The line for coffee took forever and Race hummed a little to himself, toying with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket while he waited for the cue to move at a snail’s pace. Once he held his little styrofoam cup in hand, he ventured off to the smoking pit, draining his coffee along the way.

Soldiers were beginning to arrive and Race lit up a cigarette, watching with casual curiosity as groups flooded into camp. He eyed them, vaguely wondering who each of them was. Who he would get along with. Who he would despise. Who would despise him.

He quickly got overwhelmed again and stomped out his finished stub, lighting up another to kill a few more minutes.

An indiscernible amount of time passed and Race kicked his last cigarette to the dust, pulling back the sleeve of his ACU jacket and checking the time. 11:15. Damn, that coffee line really had taken forever.

Deeming his little break long enough, Race wandered back towards his trailer, heart rate kicking up a bit when he noticed that the door was propped open.

Steeling himself, Race climbed the stairs, knocking once on the door jamb, before ducking inside.

The person inside turned his head, peering up from where he was folding a few grey, regulation workout pants on his recently made cot.

He was wearing his ACU pants and boots, but his jacket had been discarded and with a quick glance around, Race found it draped over the back of his desk chair. The guy was attractive- a sharp jawline accentuated by his pale skin and dark red hair, which was trimmed attractively, fading up the sides. It was as if the guy knew from experience how to make the most of the look without pushing regulation. His arms and chest were muscular, highlighted by the stretch of his tan, liner t-shirt.

A charming smile stretched across the guys face as he straightened up, crossing the small expanse of their room and holding out a hand, which Race took firmly.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva,” He said, his voice smooth and a little gravelly, “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Race smiled back, “Lieutenant Antonio Higgins,” he said, hoping he sounded a lot more confident than he felt, “I’m honored to be working with you and your squadron and I’m looking forward to getting to know everyone.”

Albert dropped his hand, turning back to continue unpacking his things. He only had one large duffle and two small carry on bags and suddenly, Race felt self conscious about his two duffle and impressive assortment of other luggage.

“Honestly, we’re just lucky that you were available to serve with us, sir,” Dasilva said, straightening his shoes by his closet, dress right dress, “Everyone was really bummed and pretty panicked when Lieutenant Morris fucked up his leg, so it’s great that General Kelly was able to get you on board so quick.”

Race crossed to his side of the room, tossing his cap back onto his cot and slumping into his own desk chair, “I was pretty eager to get overseas, but I wasn’t expecting it to happen so quick.”

Dasilva hummed, sounding a little surprised, “This is your first deployment?” He asked, looking over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows a little.

“Yeah,” Race said, ducking his head a little as he flushed, “Just got outta West Point last May.”

Dasilva whistled, looking impressed, “You musta done damn well if you’re already a Lieutenant,” he said, smiling a little challengingly, “and add the fact that Kelly sought you out directly,” he shook his head, bemused, “Damn, sir, you’ve got quite the rep.”

Race wrinkled his nose, “My so called ‘rep’ ain’t really getting me anywhere with your men.”

Dasilva shrugged a shoulder, waving his hand dismissively, “Don’t take whatever they’re doing to heart,” he said, “They’re all still upset about Lieutenant Morris. He was a great Lieutenant and a lot of the guys are still feeling his absence. They’ll warm up to you, sir.”

Race grunted noncommittally. He knew that Dasilva was trying to make him feel better with his little pep talk, but the knot in Race’s stomach only grew. It seemed like he had pretty fucking big shoes to fill.

“Aha!”

Race was pulled out of his spiraling worries by Dasilva’s voice and he looked up to see him holding a toothbrush and toothpaste.

“Finally found them,” Dasilva said, triumphantly. He waved them a little in Race’s direction, “I’m gonna go freshen up. That fifteen hour flight always makes me feel grungy as shit.”

Race nodded his acknowledgement, watching as his new bunkmate exited the room and traipsed down the steps, leaving the door open behind him. He could see him greeting other soldiers with a level of enthusiasm and charm Race could only dream to match. His jealousy spiked even further when he got equally happy greetings in response.

Blowing out a measured breath, Race flipped open his notebook, toying with the pristine patch on the front as he vaguely studied the Arabic terms he’d been practicing on the plane ride there.

He was pretty good already, if he said so himself, with an impressive language proficiency score of 3+ under his belt. But solidifying knowledge was always beneficial, no matter one’s skill.

A few minutes later, Dasilva bounded back through the door to their trailer, finally easing the door shut behind him. He stuck his toothpaste and toothbrush back into his little hygiene kit and tucked the thing neatly into the top drawer of his dresser.

Race kept his eyes on his notebook, not entirely sure how to progress with their conversation. He was out of his depth- usually being the loud and confident one, but somehow rendered socially inept in this completely foreign environment.

Dasilva didn’t seem to notice his internal battle, though, and a moment later, he spoke up.

“You fluent yet?”

Race startled a bit, looking up, “Almost, I’m still working on conversational communication, but I’ve got all the basics in the bag.”

Dasilva grinned, seemingly not jarred by the sudden change in language, “That’s good. Already something you have over Lieutenant Morris. With him, we almost always needed a terp on site.”

“No need for one of those here,” Race said, switching back to english.

“Obviously, sir,” Dasilva agreed. There was another lull in conversation, but Dasilva didn’t seem uncomfortable, “Do you like running?”

Race felt his stomach flip excitedly, “Yeah, actually, I love it. Did track all through middle in high school. That’s actually where-” He cut himself off hastily. Dasilva did not need to know about his little adolescent nickname that he still used unironically. Not yet anyway.

Dasilva gave him a funny look, but didn’t push, “Great. I go running every morning with one of my buddies before call. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“That sounds nice,” Race said, “I’d love to. Who’s your buddy?” He added out of curiosity.

“Sean Conlon,” Dasilva stated and Race hummed, recognizing the name, but not having a face to put it with, “He and I go way back.”

The weight of the words seemed to hold something heavy, but Race returned Dasilva’s courtesy and didn’t push.

“Sounds like a good guy,” Race said, “What time should I wake up?”

“We usually go around 04:45,” Dasilva said, leaning back into his regulation pillows, “You’ll probably hear my alarm anyway.”

Race nodded, “I’ll set one on my clock, too, just in case.”

“Good plan.”

A knock at their door had both of them exchanging a curious look. Race stood to get it and found a taller man with straight, cropped brown hair and a rigid nose standing at ease outside the door. He smiled cordially when Race looked up at him and offered him a hand.

“Lieutenant Higgins?” Race nodded and the man shook his hand firmly, “Excellent. Captain David Jacobs, it’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, sir.”

“General Kelly would like to see you over in his office,” Jacobs continued, sounding a little warmer. His eyes flicked over Race’s shoulder to Dasilva, who hastily stood at attention.

“First Sergeant Albert Dasilva, sir,” Dasilva said, his voice hardening as he saluted.

“At ease, soldier,” Jacobs said, “Pleasure to meet you.”

They all stood in silence for a short pause, before Race awkwardly turned and grabbed his patrol cap.

“General Kelly requested for me now, sir?” He asked Jacobs.

“Yes,” Jacobs confirmed.

“Alright,” Race placed the cap on his head and looked back to where Dasilva was still standing, “I’ll see you later, Sergeant.”

“See you, sir,” Dasilva smirked, “Good luck.”

Race resisted stating that he’ll need it as the trailer door swung closed behind him.

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag! and if you were on my tag, but changed your username, please let me know!

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @localfakeitalian @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

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#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #davey jacobs #Jack Kelly #spot conlon #war au #sand dollars fic #hehe #uhhh #please yell at me #yeah...#college is wild and this happnened

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rimalupin · 7 years ago

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Hey Rima! How would the suitors react if the Princess gets a really short boy cut?

Hiya, Rizos! 😄 Awww, I love this ask! Yes, Princess, you rock that short hair!!

Side note: I’ve always wanted to try getting a short haircut (like, think of Haruhi Fujioka from Ouran High School Host Club); however, I’ve never really rocked haircuts between my chin & shoulders, so I don’t think I could pull off super-short hair… 😅

Anyways, let’s see what our boys have to say about the Princess’s new ‘do!

Alyn: “Hey, is it just me, or do you look different? I’m kidding: of course I noticed your new hair, silly.” *Thinks you look sososo cute. Ruffles your hair WAY more often than he used to.*

Sid: *Thinks you’re hella badass (I mean, he knows that you’re a badass, but with that new ‘do you seem 10000x’s more badass than before)* “New hair, new flair. Lookin’ fierce, Princess!”

Albert: *He hadn’t seen you in a while, so he was quite surprised when he saw you with your gorgeous new haircut!* “It’s quite a daring hairstyle, Princess. But I’m not saying I don’t like it: in fact, it’s quite the opposite!”

Nico: “You look absolutely adorable! I hope you aren’t ticklish though~.” *Now that your hair is short, Nico tests out potential tickle spots on your neck and the backs of your ears whenever he gets the chance. 😂*

Byron: “Your hair: it’s different. Then again, you always look radiant, no matter what.” *He’s pleasantly surprised by your new haircut. He wonders if your neck ever gets cold, so he makes a note to buy you a shawl/scarf that matches with your favorite outfit.*

Rayvis: *He’s so surprised by your new look that he almost didn’t recognize you! But he likes you regardless of what you look like~.* “You can change your hair as much as you want, but please don’t change who you are. Why? Well, because I like who you are.”

Louis: “Wow, you look wonderful. Then again, you’re always wonderful to me.” *He gives you a TON of tips on how to care for your short hair. He even offers to wash it for you occasionally (But it’s really an excuse for him to touch your hair even more, LOLOL. c; ).*

Giles: “What a lovely hairdo! However, I suppose we’ll have to find new ways to style your hair. Mind if we start now?” *Your shorter hair doesn’t stop Giles from combing out its tangles if there are any? and/or trying out new hairstyles whenever he gets the chance. He suddenly becomes VERY conscious whenever he brushes his fingers against your now-exposed neck (LOLOL #sorrynotsorry about blushy/flustered Giles~. xD)*

Leo: *He gives you a thousand compliments once he sees you with your new ‘do. Like his brother, he ruffles your hair A LOT, especially when you’ve accomplished something and/or when Leo’s feeling ~extra flirty~. :P* “Daaang, Princess: looks like you’ll be turning more heads than just mine tonight! But seriously, your new hair suits you really well~.”

Robert: “The last time I saw you with short hair was when I tutored you. You were quite adorable back then, and you look remarkably gorgeous now.” *He loves that your shorter hair allows people to see more of your beautiful face! He wonders how your hair will look with a barrette that he secretly bought for you~. ;)*

#midnight cinderella #midcin #headcanon #headcanon by me #ask #rizosrojizos #suitors react #princess w/ short hair #alyn crawford #sid arnault #lloyd grandier #albert burckhardt #nico meier #byron wagner #rayvis harneit #louis howard #giles christophe #leo crawford #robert branche

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your-brother-crutchie · 7 years ago

Text

Spot Conlon for Prom Queen

Race decides that he wants to run for prom King and Queen so, because it would make his boyfriend happy, Spot throws himself into it, ‘Tommy Bracco for Prom ‘Queen’ 2013,’ style.

It was almost the end of Race’s senior year and he was completely ready to graduate and leave high school behind him. There was no risk of having to leave his boyfriend behind for university because Race wasn’t planning on going anywhere and there was no point asking if Spot was going elsewhere. Would Spot Conlon ever move away from Brooklyn?

Although everyone knew the two boys were dating, and had done long before they’d technically 'come out,’ no one ever saw them doing anything even remotely couple-y. Spot Conlon, self-proclaimed king of Brooklyn, had far too much pride to be seen holding his boyfriend. Race didn’t mind. It wasn’t like Spot was ashamed of him, he just knew that Spot had a lot of difficulty with letting people in. Letting the others kids at school see the tender way he let his fingertips skim over Race’s cheek behind closed doors was just a little too intimate for him.

It was lunchtime and the halls were empty, everyone spending the summer afternoon on the field with their friends. In a rare moment of trust, Spot had allowed his arm to hang limply around Race’s hip and was tolerating his sandy curls tickling his neck.

When Race turned to glance at the lockers to his left, he caught sight of a poster for prom King and Queen, advertising one of the school’s most well-known couples. Although he knew Spot would hate it, Race was immediately set on his decision.

“So, Scotty, I have an idea.” Pausing gently in his tracks, Race steered Spot to the left, ever so slightly, to the wall beside the poster.

Spot smirked slightly as he followed Race eagerly, obviously thinking that this was leading to the rest of lunch spent kissing in the empty classroom beside them, and pressed him against the wall gingerly, “An idea? That’s dangerous.” Rolling his eyes as his boyfriend’s mind immediately ran to something physical, Race nodded and peered over his shoulder to make sure that they were alone.“

He gently passed his thumb under Spot’s eye when he saw that the hall truly was deserted, “Very funny.” Race shot Spot a pained smile before allowing his face to settle again and going back to focusing his attention on his thumb’s path on his boyfriend’s face, “I was thinking, we could go for prom King and Queen?”

It seemed that Spot was unable to hold back his laughter as Race pouted, directing his eyes to his shoes instead, “I hate to break it to you, Tonio, but you can’t exactly run for prom Queen.”

Race simply smiled, happy for the use of his real name before deciding to go along with his day without fighting back. He swept Spot along beside him, taking his boyfriend’s arm and placing it back around his waist.

If anyone knew Race, they’d know that he was planning something. Therefore, it was no surprise that Spot was staring at him, “I know. That’s why you’re going to.”

For a long moment, there was silence.

For a long moment, Spot stood stock still, his arm retracted and hanging limply at his side.

“What?”

Turns out, Race was not joking.

Spot was stood in the middle of the hallway the next day, seemingly bemused that the steady stream of kids were avoiding both the king of Brooklyn and his partner. He stood with his arms folded as he watched his tiny boyfriend struggle to attach the large poster to the wall on his own, not that his 'tiny’ boyfriend was any 'tinier’ than he was.

Turning to look at Spot once he had given up on the top corner, Race gave an exasperated sigh as Spot tilted his head at him, turning instead to where Jack stood beside him, “A little help from you instead, perhaps?”

Race’s exasperation only grew as Jack simply dropped his hands into his pockets and walked away, probably to find Crutchie but also probably because he loved being fucking annoying. He turned back to his poster as he saw Morris Delancey coming down the hallway with his girlfriend, discussing their own running plans.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as Spot heard that there was a possibility of losing to a Delancey, Race felt his hand taking the tape from him to fasten it to the wall.

From then on, Race really started to see a change in Spot. Suddenly, this was a competition and he really bloody wanted to win. If anyone asked why he cared so much, Spot would say it was all about beating Morris but Race and the newsies all knew that it was also partly because Spot was absolutely and completely whipped to a point where he would literally do anything to make Race happy. Spot would have caved and helped him anyway.

Spot truly threw himself into the competition, getting Specs and Albert to help by flanking him at all times and the other newsies to hand out badges and flyers. He might have even pressured Katherine into putting it in the school newspaper, despite it probably going against all of the rules.

None of the teachers really knew how to approach the subject, deciding to just leave it instead, as no boy had ever run for prom Queen so seriously before and they hadn’t expected Spot Conlon to be the first.

Race was truly speechless.

This was a completely different Spot and, although he’d been trying to get him to open up for years, he wasn’t sure if he really liked this change.

Prom night came around pretty quickly.

Race had spent hours in stores to find them the perfect matching suits and they had taken pictures outside of Spot’s front door with his mother. Unsurprisingly, Race’s mother had wanted nothing to do with his prom date and his father didn’t even know that he was gay. The only reason that his mother hadn’t told her husband was that she knew he could kill her son for it. She may not want him to be 'queer’ but she, at least, would rather him alive.

When they got to the prom, they had spent a wonderful five minutes standing nonchalantly in the corner before Race had gone to find them drinks and came back to find that Spot was nowhere to be seen. Race had put up with it for a grand total of two minutes before he became annoyed that his boyfriend had ditched him on prom night. He was surrounded by his couple friends, Jack and Crutchie, Katherine and Sarah, and all Race wanted to do was dance with his absentee boyfriend.

Eventually, Crutchie was able to tear himself away from Jack long enough to make his way to the stage with Davey. Albert lowered the music as Davey tapped at the microphone, wincing at the high-pitched squealing and the groans from the other students.

As heads of the student council, Crutchie and Davey had been tasked with announcing the winners so Race knew that he was going to want his boyfriend next to him pretty damn soon.

Spot was still nowhere to be seen.

Admittedly, Race didn’t want to be the clingy boyfriend but he was a little upset that this could be his big moment and he was standing there on his own. His mother had always dreamed wanted him to grow up to become prom King.

“We know that this next part is very important to some of you. Therefore, we are deliberately going to make this painful as possible for you … And Prom King is … ” Davey took his sweet time in opening the envelope and allowed a comfortable smile as his eyes fell on Race, “Antonio Higgins!” Race knew that Davey wasn’t trying to make him uncomfortable with his real name, it was a school event, but he still squirmed, especially at his surname.

He stepped up onto the stage with a tight smile, accepting his crown with a bow and waving to the peasants as he scanned the crowd for Spot from his better vantage point.

Spot was still nowhere to be seen.

Race stood beside Davey, having accepted the friendly hand on his shoulder as Crutchie limped forwards to announce prom Queen. He didn’t want to bring it up but his friend hadn’t been walking so good recently and even the crutch didn’t seem to help the pain anymore.

“Now for the main event!” Holding the envelope up so that the crinkle of paper was caught on the microphone, Crutchie giggled before grasping at his crutch tighter when he lost his balance slightly. He breathed out shakily, looking down to where Jack stood at the front of the audience and mouthing an, 'I’m okay.’

Part of Race wanted to throw up at how sweet they were, part of him wanted to be the cute couple that everyone was cooing at.

“Your Prom Queen is … ” Crutchie pulled the piece of paper from his golden envelope and laughed gently, causing Race’s breath to hitch as the boy flipped the sheet to the crowd and announced, “Spot Conlon!” School event or not, Crutchie, the literal ray of sunshine, or not, Spot would kill anyone other than Race who tried to use his real name.

As if on cue, Race looked up to see the doors bursting open and Spot being carried in. Somehow, he had managed to blackmail the Delancey brothers into carrying him in on their shoulders. Race couldn’t hold his laughter back as the Delanceys begrudgingly took Spot to the stage, where he could collect his tiara, before depositing him in the middle of the dance floor.

For a few seconds, there was some intense eye contact between Spot and Race. The Italian boy was completely in disbelief. He was still slightly mad that he’d been left alone, even for this masterpiece, but most of him couldn’t help but applaud himself on the marvellous job he’d done on finding a suit that looked fucking perfect on Spot. He didn’t want to let Spot win but he was fighting every instinct in his body just by standing so far away from him.

Albert was yet to bring the music back up and there was silence in the sports hall as every pair of eyes was on them. Not once had Spot ever done anything remotely sweet. They could understand it when it was Race campaigning for prom King but seeing Spot standing in the middle of the empty dance floor, crooked tiara in his black hair, was something they’d never anticipated- much less Race.

After a pregnant silence, Spot held his hand out silently and suddenly Race lost it. He went running and leaped from the stage, stumbling into his boyfriend’s arms until his arms were around his neck and he was attached like a limpet.

As soon as Race hit Spot, Albert started the slow song and the couple easily settled into a relaxed swaying. Obviously, Spot was still checking that the people around them weren’t staring or judging but, for the most part, he was happy to hold his liquid boyfriend together.

For the rest of the night, Race and Spot danced insanely close together, with Spot’s arms around Race’s waist and Race’s head buried calmly into Spot’s neck. This was fine for the most part but eventually became a little too much, in an it’s-fine-on-the-slow-songs-but-the-teachers-had-to-intervene-when-they-started-grinding kind of way.

Every student around them was shocked because THE Spot Conlon was being a sappy little shit. He kept at least one hand on Race at all times and whispered constant compliments into his ear. He kissed him whenever possible, regardless of the people around them.

Even Race was shocked when he heard a gentle, “I love you,” ghosting over the shell of his ear. Spot couldn’t even say that easily when they were alone and in the dark, let alone in a loud room full of almost every kid they’d ever shared a class with for the last fourteen years.

“I love you, Antonio, and I don’t even care how much of a prat I look right now because you’re happy and that’s all that matters to me. I know that I don’t say this a lot but, seriously, I really fucking love you, Antonio.”

Race couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows as he rested his forehead against Spot’s, smiling slightly in his confusion, “Hey, Scotty, you feeling alright?” It wasn’t that Race didn’t know that what Spot had said was true, he knew that Spot loved him, it was just that Spot was never normally so affectionate unless he was ill.

Pulling away slightly before pressing another borderline inappropriate kiss to his mouth, Spot nodded, muttering that he was, “absolutely fine,” before going back to prising Race’s lips open with his own.

“Just promise me you’ll go back to normal tomorrow. I’ve kind of missed my boyfriend.”

The next morning, as if it was actually a surprise to anyone who knew him, Spot called in sick with a horrible flu.

#newsies #sprace #rowan writes sprace #spot/race #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #rowan writes #newsies fanfiction #fics

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alexanderwrites · 7 years ago

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Thoughts Roundup - Twin Peaks: The Return, Part 14

“We Are Like the Dreamer”

David Lynch famously said that he can’t stand people talking after they see a movie. That the movie is the talking. Despite the fact that talking about movies is pretty much my passion, I get what he means. Up until recently, i’d be scouring the internet for hours after each new episode, reading about every talking point, every theory and attempting to unpick every moment. I would do this immediately after watching each episode which, really, makes no sense. Yes, I still like to read reviews and give the forums a quick peruse, but I find that to get the most out of the show, I have to sit with the episode for a while, and see how I feel about it after a good night’s sleep, hence why I write these reviews a day after I see each episode. There is such a thing as too much and too soon, and reading pieces immediately after watching an episode is sort of like seeing the opening act after you see the main show. There is so much to take in and enjoy with each given episode that afterwards I just need to process it in my own way without getting external input.

Talking and writing about the show does have merit and is great fun, I just am starting to realise that I need to separate the show from the writing about the show. I mean, how can it not mess with your expectations, for better or for worse? “We WILL see X character next episode”, “The next episode will be the ONE where everything changes”, “This character from this episode will be the key to the whole mystery”, and so on. How would I feel about The Return if i’d never read a word on it? Part of me wishes I had, but then again good, thoughtful writing about The Return is so complimentary to my enjoyment of the show, and has made me appreciate so much more about it. I suppose my point is: writing, whether good or bad, has affected the way I watch and view the show, and so for the reviews henceforward, I will try and keep my points as individual and unaffected by other writing as possible. Ideally, i’d like what I say about the show to express how I feel, rather than attempt to sway the readers (all 2 of you) a certain way. So, after a good night’s sleep, little to no reading on the episode and a big, fuck-off coffee, let’s talk about...

. The FBI. The episode kicks off and wastes no time in getting straight into things. It’s with openings like these - abrupt and un-establishing - that remind you that this is from one long, 18-hour Script. The endings often remind me of this fact too. Absent are cliff-hangers and buttons, and absent are ‘previously on’s at the beginning of each episode. Instead, here’s Gordon, calling Lucy. It’s strange to think that they haven’t interacted in The Return yet, and even stranger to remember that Gordon hasn’t even been back in town. It’s strange, because they’re two of the funniest characters in the show, and Gordon is one of the most Twin Peaks-y characters, despite not even being from the town. They feel linked, even if it’s by one event 25 years ago, and they are still linked today - they just don’t quite know how, yet. Gordon’s call to Lucy is laugh out loud funny; I have a simple comedy brain, and will always laugh at things that are too loud. Hearing Gordon’s tinny yell pummel its way out the end of her receiver really tickled me, as did his unexplained, confused pause when Lucy told him of her trip to Bora Bora. Not a beach boy, Gordon? So, for a scene that wastes no time, it certainly wastes time, but beautifully so. Their interaction is a miniature reunion that finally links Gordon back to Twin Peaks, which has always felt like his spiritual home.

The Return has had a really interesting way of dispensing information, wherein waiting for a character to discover something that we already know is as gripping as us discovering information in the first place. And so, Gordon finally finds out about Laura Palmer’s missing pages, and how it indicates “Two Coopers”. You have to admire Robert Forster’s straight-face matter-of-factness in handling these topics. He knows it sounds strange, but to him, these are just strange truths that it is his duty to notify his colleagues and superiors of. I guess, as a Bookhouse Boy, Frank Truman has seen enough odd things in those woods to not be particularly fazed by them anymore.

. Tammy, God Bless you for saying “What’s the significance of the Blue Rose?” when asked by Albert which one question she should ask him about the first ever Blue Rose case. That is what we all want to know, and the last few episodes have given us more clarification of that than I ever expected. She could be seen as an audience surrogate, the newbie to whom everything is explained. But she is also smart, more proactive than the typical rookie, and she gives us the most perfect explanation of what a Blue Rose is: something which does not occur in nature. It’s exciting getting to hear glimpses into the history of the Blue Rose, but a bigger bombshell is dropped in this scene, one so inextricably connected to Dougie and Vegas that it’ll most likely have our FBI crew strolling down the strip by the next episode: Diane is Janey-E’s half sister. But, is she really? Whomever she is texting (which it seems is Doppelcoop), she tells them where the FBI are and that she’s getting them to Vegas. If this were her task, to get the FBI to Vegas, would it not be beneficial to her to speed up the process by claiming that she’s Janey-E’s sister? Who knows. Diane plays her cards very close to her chest, emotionally and informationally, and any time we get too close, we get a big fat Fuck You from her. For now, i’ll take her word for it, because I love the idea that Laura Dern and Naomi Watts are sisters.

. Monica Belluci has the secrets to the universe, or at least in Gordon’s head. “Who is the dreamer?”. It’s a damn good question, and I think what it means is “whose chess board are they all pawns on?”. Is it Doppelcoop, or is it forces larger than him? Is it “Mother”, or something we saw born in the atomic explosion? The show has always felt like a dream, and while I don’t believe it’ll all turn out to be a literal dream, the feeling is there, and it makes us wonder what version of reality we are seeing. It’s a thoughtful philosophical quandary, and one that clearly disturbs poor old Gordon, the sensitive soul. And next we have our Bowie cameo which is not really a cameo like the clickbait headlines tell us, but a scene from Fire Walk With Me, which, at this point, you almost have to have seen to fully appreciate The Return. It’s interesting that both Gordon and Albert hadn’t remembered exactly what Jeffries had said, and his “Who do you think that is there?” question regarding Cooper is certainly creepy in retrospect. Did Jeffries slip in and out of time, and see who Cooper would become? It feels like he is, if not a key to unlocking the mystery, at least a very important figure in the overall story. I don’t think there is a clear mystery that will ever be solved at this stage, and I think in a sense, it would be disappointing if there was one overall answer to everything. It would be too easy. Instead, lets just take each scene and surprise we get, try and contextualise them as best we can, and figure out what they say rather than what they literally mean. It’s too vague and too abstract for everything to be neatly explained, and really, wouldn’t that ruin some of the fun?

. The boy scouts Bookhouse Boys are heading to Jackrabbit’s palace, and there is something intrinsically melancholy about their journey, because it makes Bobby fondly recall his father. The woods they walk through aren’t the scary, foreboding woods we see in Twin Peaks at night, they’re glowing with sunlight and the home of happier times in Bobby’s childhood. That is, until they find a vortex to the Black and White World and the woman from the Purple World who helped Cooper escape back in Part 3, naked and unable to speak, and with skin still over her eyes. The scene of them exploring gave me serious Lost flashbacks, and like Lost, what comes next is confusing as all hell, yet fairly answerable.........I think. Andy, of all people, disappears to the Black and White Room, which looks absolutely stunning again. The set design throughout The Return has been terrific but perhaps a bit more modern and less stylised than some of Lynch’s other projects, but the Black and White room is a hit of that old school, Eraserhead style set design. The Giant names himself as the “Fireman”, which ties again to fire and electricity being a source of evil, and the Fireman as a pretty decent bloke, really. A window above Andy transforms into a cinema screen which gives him the weirdest “Previously on” the world has ever seen. From the Atomic Blast and the releasing of Bob into our world, to Laura Palmer being taken by the Angels, it is a stirring and haunting mirror into the darkness that summarises succinctly the nature of good and bad in the show’s universe. And now Andy - yes, Andy - has the secret to it all. It’s a hypnotic scene, and i’m increasingly blown away by how well The Return is blending the more abstract, with the linear narrative, to the point where the two cannot exist without each other. Like a blend of a wanderlust through the netherworld, and a real-world sense of purpose and duty, Andy takes the woman to the police station to protect her. He knows more now, and understands that she is in danger. From who? Mother, it seems, is still hot on her tail. His job has never been more important, and keeping her safe was as important as arresting the policeman earlier, a funny scene, the buildup to which seems to have played out almost entirely offscreen. I like it though - it reminds you there’s an entire world going on that you don’t necessarily get to see. The woman chirps and squeaks in her cell, desperately trying to articulate some sort of message. We cannot decipher her message, no matter how hard she tries to speak. So close, yet so far away.

. James has his first non-singing dialogue of the season, and though he doesn’t give too many glimpses into his life, we know that it’s his birthday, and that he’s a security guard at the Great Northern. And that above all, he seems happy. It’s hard to tell from what we see of him, but he smiles so much more easily than he used to, and his brooding seems absent. We’re not really thinking about ol’ forehead, because we’re thinking about his Security Guard buddy, a ‘cockney’ (that accent is maybe the scariest thing in the return yet) who has lots of lines to tell you that he is, in fact, English (Pubs? Check! Football? Check! Antiquated cockney rhyming slang? Check!). It’s weird and a bit goofy, but damn is it a story that hooks you. I love the idea that there are portals to the Other Places all over the world (the book hints that there are many), including in an alley in the East End of London. Does that mean Ian Beale is to discover one next? It’s such an incongruous image but kind of brilliant, and now we have someone sent specifically to Twin Peaks by The Fireman and given one very powerful hand. Arms and hands, man. The references to arms and hands being signs of power, possession, weakness and evil are so numerous, but they seem to be perhaps an entry point for non-human spirits? Then, James goes to check out a creepy noise (never a good idea you dumdum) in the basement of the Great Northern, where that odd ringing noise seems to emit from. It feels like he could die down there; it feels like he is dead down there. It feels like hell, and there’s more excellent set and sound design to thank for that. There is something very bad under every building in Twin Peaks...

. In an episode that has so many talking points to choose from, I think the one that most people will be talking about is Sarah Palmer’s. Her scene is so filled with dread, malice, then satisfyingly gruesome terror that I needed to pause the episode afterwards. It’s an horrific yet celebratory moment: the disgusting harasser gets exactly what we’ve been waiting for the whole series, and gives a sense of power and authority right back in the hands of a tortured woman. Yet, it is pretty clear cut evidence that Sarah is either not a person, or is a person who is, for want of a better word, darksided. Was she the girl who got a bug in the mouth after all? Is she home to spirits as Leland was? It’s hard to tell, but i’m all for the spirits if they cause her to bite a gross dude’s throats out. When Laura took her face...off at the beginning of the Return, there was nothing but light. When her mother did the same, a darkness peered out, as did a cheshire cat grin that takes a pretty high place on the Nightmare Imagery Shitlist of The Return.

. And we come to an end, with more ambiguous discussions at the Roadhouse. Billy gets a mention, and it is likely that he was the blood soaked creep from the jail cell scene earlier in the episode. “I can’t remember whether my uncle was there”, says one of the characters as she describes when she last saw Billy. She seems worried by this. It’s such a small and seemingly unimportant question, but it feels like the detail that makes her story not of this world. Having characters in more than one place at a time and having characters disappear and reappear has made us look out for any variation on this theme, and the Uncle’s both being there and not being there stands out. The talk of family members reminds me of the screaming car woman with the sick teenager from episodes back, who also listed members of her family, seemingly at random. What is going on in the families of this town? It feels so fucking nightmarish, and while I once didn’t enjoy these moments for their lack of direct connection to the narrative, I now appreciate them as miniature dramas, always unfolding under a shade of darkness, and expanding the universe of the show that you don’t really see. Tonight’s scene ties their drama to Audrey’s through the mention of Tina. How it’ll come together is to be seen, but the word I think most apt to describe it is Purgatory. It feels like these characters are stuck in a strange, haunted, endlessly unfolding narrative. Of abusive family members, of violence, lies and deceit, of nightmarish uncertainty and endless repetition. What would be really interesting would be to piece all these moments together to see what themes and motifs stand out, because like so much else, it feels like there is something pounding at us from beneath its surface.

That’s how I’d describe this episode. There is something underneath this episode, like the face beneath Sarah’s, or the language beneath the Blind Woman’s chirps, or the ringing sound underneath the Great Northern, that we get glimpses at but ultimately cannot decipher. They are brought out by fear, anger, necessity and desperation, and try as we all might, we may not discover what they all mean. Maybe it’s that we listen to the blind woman’s noises, that we venture into the basement, that we look into Sarah Palmer’s eyes, that is important. Perhaps the act of Andy listening to the fireman and watching those scenes unfold is what the purpose is. What matters most is not that the mystery is answered, but that we behold the mystery, and celebrate it. Isn’t that what all of life really is? One big, weird ass mystery that we’re endlessly trying to answer? We can watch the magician’s hands as closely as we like, but his hat will end up empty, and we’ll be left asking questions and wishing we’d just enjoyed the trick. Maybe we’re all in someone else’s dream, or maybe we are the dreamer - what matters most is that the question exists, and that we accept it. What more can you do than that? “What the fuck is going on in Twin Peaks”? We might never know, and that’s okay.

#twin peaks spoilers #twin peaks the return #david lynch #tv review

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elleberquist6 · 6 years ago

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Believe in Me - chapter twenty

Summary: Dan Howell is living at home while he’s saving money for college, which isn’t easy since his parents don’t understand him. Unlike them, he loves dogs, is a vegetarian, has no interest in the family business, and he despises the supernatural. He struggles to accept things that are illogical, even though he is a kitsune. Kitsune are foxes whose powers involve the ability to cast illusions, but Dan just wants to be normal. Phil Lester has just moved to London, where he works as a dog walker. When his path crosses with Dan, Phil is eager to get to know him. Unfortunately, Phil soon finds that being friends with Dan is far more complicated than he could have imagined.

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2286 Warnings: Slow Burn, Eventual Smut

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Kitsune fact: Foxes were considered holy animals since long before recorded history began in Japan. The farmers of ancient Japan revered foxes, which preyed on the mice and rats which destroy crops. Foxes have long been associated with Inari, the god of the harvest. Inari is said to use foxes as servants and messengers, and the majority of the foxes in his employ are the holy, white-furred kind known as myōbu. Myōbu statues are commonly found at Inari shrines. [http://yokai.com/myoubu/]

Phil woke to the sight of Dan tugging a black polo shirt over his head. As Dan’s head slipped through the hole and he adjusted his hair, he saw that Phil was awake and sat on the edge of the bed with a smile. “Morning,” Dan said.

“Mmmh, it’s so early.” Phil reached out for Dan’s hand and gave him a slight tug, hoping to encourage Dan to crawl back into bed. “Come here.”

Dan squeezed his hand, but he didn’t come closer. “I wish I could. I’m on the schedule at the coffeeshop today. I have to go.”

Phil frowned, realizing that he also had to go to work, but he was more worried about Dan. He looked okay – he wasn’t showing any signs of a hangover and there were no dark circles under his eyes, but Phil was still worried. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

Dan nodded. “Thanks to you, yes. You were really great yesterday.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Phil said with a smile. “Could I see you later?”

“Yes, please,” Dan said before kissing him goodbye.

Phil thought about the museum throughout the day, and he looked up the shrine that Adam had told him about on his phone while he was walking with Rotty in the park. It was everything that he had hoped, and Phil couldn’t wait to bring Dan there – this was the solution that they had been hoping for. He knew it.

Later that night, Phil was knocking on the door of the funeral home. Dan’s family had already eaten, but Phil had waited to eat dinner with Dan. They microwaved some leftover vegetable lasagna and ate while leaning against the kitchen counter, chatting comfortably. Phil waited until they were snuggled in Dan’s bed to ask, “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Uh uh.” Dan’s head shifted against his chest as he shook it. “Why? Did you want to do something?”

Phil was grinning because this was perfect. He had to walk Rotty tomorrow, but he could easily fit this into his afternoon. “Yes, could you meet me at the Victoria and Albert Museum tomorrow?”

The next day, Phil was scanning the crowd in the museum, looking for a familiar head topped with tousled brown curls. A warm breath tickled his ear. “Boo!”

Phil yelped and whirled around to see Dan laughing with rosy cheeks, and Phil pouted, “You scared me.”

Dan smirked, flashing dimples. “Sorry.”

Phil wasn’t really mad, so he reached out a finger to poke one of the dimples, and it faded under his fingertip as Dan’s broad grin relaxed into a warm smile. In the past couple days, Phil had noticed something change about Dan. With the revelation of all of his secrets, Dan had finally dropped all of his walls. Not only did Phil know him so much better now, but Dan was letting a soft and vulnerable side of himself show. It was absolutely adorable. He was gazing at Phil with chocolate-brown eyes, drinking in his features like he might never see Phil again, and Phil stood there silently with a smile on his face, enjoying the adoration.

Someone in the crowd bumped into Dan’s back, startling him. He looked around nervously. “Uh, Phil, did you want to move somewhere else? There are a lot of people here.”

“Yeah, I want to take you somewhere.” Phil grabbed Dan’s hand so that they didn’t get separated, and he dragged him through the crowd that was pressing into the entrance of the museum.

As they entered a quieter part of the museum, Dan said in a hushed voice, “Can I admit that I’m not that into art? Sure, I appreciate it, but more in a way like – whoa, I could never paint that! I have no artistic talent, so I’ve never bothered to learn anything about famous artists. If we’re here to see a painting, I won’t know anything about that sort of thing.”

Phil gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’re not here to see a painting. Just trust me.”

They continued strolling through the museum as Phil led them to the section on Japan. They passed lacquered boxes and ceramics without interest, but Dan stopped walking when he saw a suit of armor in a glass case. Phil stood at Dan’s side, admiring the samurai’s armor, which was fascinating. The intricately detailed panels of the armor were a deep blue and there were orange tassels on the shoulders – this was in sharp contrast to the scowling black mask that would cover the warrior’s face. It was a thing of beauty, but fierce at the same time.

Phil glanced at Dan, and Dan seemed to sense his gaze because he nodded and started moving again, allowing Phil to continue leading him through the exhibits. Phil started walking faster when he knew they were getting closer, dragging Dan behind him. Dan giggled in response to Phil’s enthusiasm. Finally, they were entering the room that Adam had told him about.

It took Phil’s breath away. This room had been completely transformed. It reminded him of the pocket dimension that Dan’s grandmother had made, where one moment he was standing in the rain and the next moment he was standing in a sunny clearing. This time, Phil felt like he had stepped out of a museum and into a shrine in the Japanese landscape.

On second glance, he saw that the grass, foliage, and even the stones scattered around the room were artificial. Even the brightness of the room was an effect caused by the skylight above them. The shrine was real, though. A cobblestone path down the room led to it, and the path was flanked by a dozen statues of foxes.

Phil looked at Dan with a grin, but then his grin wavered. The adorably soft and playful Dan who he had been becoming familiar with had once again vanished behind an expressionless mask, and he was holding himself stiffly. Dan looked like he didn’t want to be here. Phil asked, “Are you okay?”

Dan shrugged his rigid shoulders as he looked around the room, seeming in avoidance of Phil’s eyes. “Yeah, it’s just… is this what you brought me here to see?”

Phil swallowed heavily, since he sensed that he had done something wrong. But how could this be wrong if worshiping Inari could save Dan? He decided to keep going with the original plan, and if there was something wrong then Dan could just explain it.

Phil gave Dan’s hand a squeeze before he let go and started walking into the room. “I thought it would be fun,” Phil said hesitantly. “Adam told me about this place, and I…”

Dan looked at him finally. His lips quirked, but not enough to visibly be either a smile or a frown, but he sighed and started following Phil into the room. “I should have known Adam had something to do with this.”

Phil cringed at that response, and he turned away to hide his face. As he turned, he came face-to-face with one of the statues lining the path, and he paused to look closer at it. It was a simplified rendition of a fox carved in black stone. The fox was sitting upright with its tail in the air and ears pointed forward. Phil wondered aloud, “What’s in its mouth?”

Dan stepped closer to take a look. “A scroll I think. They’ve all got something either in their mouths or under their paws.”

As Phil walked past the other statues, he paused to look and saw that it was true – they were all holding something: a jewel, a key, a sheaf of rice, and the last fox by the shrine held a fox kit. Phil turned to look at the shrine. There was a low roof supported by red pillars – they would have to duck if they wanted to walk under the roof – and the pillars had Japanese characters written on them. The shrine didn’t have any walls, and he could see an altar, which was surrounded by smaller statues of foxes carved in white stone. All of the statues were unique with individual personalities.

As he walked closer, Phil focused on the altar and saw a bowl of rice sitting under a glass dome. Instead of walking up the steps of the altar, he knelt at the bottom and looked up because this seemed right – Dan was the one who should walk up those steps while Phil waited here. He felt Dan kneel beside him, and he looked at Dan with a smile.

Dan shook his head as he asked, “What are we doing here, Phil?”

Phil reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small handful of uncooked rice. He cradled the grains between his palms like they were precious and attempted to pass them to Dan. “Here. Take them. Leave them on the altar. This will save you.”

Dan continued to shake his head and didn’t move to take the rice. “No. What are you talking about?”

Phil lowered his hands. “This is the answer to your problem. You might not become a kitsune like your brother if you do this. You can become like the kitsune who follow Inari. All you have to do is worship him.”

“I can’t.” His stony façade was cracking, and Phil could see a turmoil of emotions behind Dan’s eyes. The first thing that Phil gratefully noted was that Dan didn’t appear to be angry with him. But Dan was afraid.

Phil put the rice back in his pocket so that he could hold Dan’s hands and give them a reassuring squeeze. “What is it, Dan? I don’t understand what’s wrong. I thought this would help.”

Dan returned the squeeze before glancing at the shrine and then back to Phil. “This won’t help,” he said. “I appreciate that you were trying, but I don’t believe in any of this nonsense.”

“Nonsense?” Phil parroted. “You’re a kitsune. But Inari is nonsense?”

Dan closed his eyes and took a calming breath. Then he said, “Yes. It’s nonsense to me. Just as nonsense as I find labels. I’m not someone who can be summed up by a label – a label that describes who I am, what I believe in, and what I do with my life. I’m me.”

Phil wrapped his arms around Dan’s stiff body, and he spoke with his face buried in Dan’s hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he felt Dan relax against him, and after a moment they pulled out of the hug. Phil gave Dan an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to make assumptions, and I really am sorry. Could you please explain it to me? I want to understand what all of this means to you.”

Dan nodded as he looked at the altar again. “I’ll try to explain… Actually, I think it’s pretty simple. I don’t believe Inari exists. I can’t see him, so I don’t believe he’s real.” Looking at the altar as well, Phil bit his lip. He didn’t want to upset Dan again, but this seemed so odd to him. Dan chuckled, drawing Phil’s attention back to him. “I can tell you want to say something. You can talk to me, Phil.”

Phil nodded. “It’s just… After meeting you and seeing all of these amazing things, I don’t have any trouble in believing that Inari is real. So, I was wondering why it’s different for you… and also, I was wondering why you aren’t willing to just try to believe, just a little bit. Maybe if you just try to worship Inari that will be enough.”

Dan gave him a sad smile as he shook his head. “No, Phil. I can’t do that. I’m not going to sign up for this religion. My religion is my own – I live my life by my values, and I try to be a good person. That’s all I can do.”

He gave Dan’s hands a squeeze. “I’m sorry. You’re right. That should be enough. I shouldn’t have brought you here. You are a good person and you deserve good things.”

“Thanks.” Dan looked at the altar again with a sigh. “It would be so much simpler for me if I could walk this path, but I can’t. So… I still believe that my life is going to end in a couple weeks, and I think the same thing would happen even if I believed in him, even if I left rice on that altar, and even if he’s real. If Inari is real, I can’t imagine that he gives a damn about me.”

“Nothing bad is going to happen to you.” Phil was squeezing Dan’s hands so hard now that he might be leaving bruises, but he managed to get the brown eyes to shift back to his face. The eyes were shimmering, and Dan swallowed heavily as he stared at Phil. “I only just found you, so I can’t lose you now. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Forget Inari – I’ll save you. Believe in me.”

#phandom #phanfiction #dan and phil #dan x phil #kitsune #magical realism #illusion

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davidastbury · 7 years ago

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Dec 2017 part 2

L'éducation Sentimentale

Leonardo’s Madonna touched him with icy fingers and he moved away. Once he visited Italy and stood perfectly still in front of Primavera, by Botticelli, as she tossed flowers and smiled at him, romping and randy. Others called to him - Renoir’s sizzling nudes, golden girls in the river, water up to their hips, splashing and laughing.

But he remained loyal to his Tess. She haunted him - and although he was never without a copy of the book, he could not bring himself to open it.

Tess - the love of his life.

Lorna and the Russians........1965

Lorna knew and loved all the classic Russian novels. Who introduced her to them, and why she so much enjoyed the teeming mass of brilliant, eccentric characters was a mystery – but then, who can explain anything? She loved them with a childlike enthusiasm, not at all like someone who studied to pass exams, and least of all like a scholar. She pronounced the names ‘Lermontov, Goncharov, Gogol, Turgenev’ as if they were poems, and liked nothing better than to relate extracts from her beloved Dostoyevsky. For most of us Dostoyevsky is like wading through treacle, but Lorna could navigate the acres of dense prose and relate, with hilarity, the saintly foolishness of the characters – the cringing wrong choices – the suicidal embarrassments!

Her boyfriend told me that they were having a party for her 21st birthday and I was invited. On the afternoon of the party I called at their flat and gave her my gift – an illustrated boxed set of Pushkin’s ‘Eugene Onegin’. She tore off the wrapping paper and with a shout, threw herself at me. The top of her head was in my face – the hot head full of wonderful Russians – and her dark hair tickled my nose.

On the Train

Mother and daughter. Daughter about five or six. People look across because the mother, who is thin and pale, has an unusual and persistent cough. Her cough is like a voice – it seems to ‘speak’ from inside her chest. Just the hum of the rails and the woman’s cough and we all shuffle our feet and wish the journey would end. I feel embarrassed for her and wish there could be some sort of diversion. Her head is turned away, towards the window but I don’t think she is aware of the view.

The daughter keeps glancing up at her mother and then back at us, as if challenging us.

Winter Sunshine

I catch my bleak reflection in the Hugo Boss shop window; my long black coat, gloves and scarf - shivering in the thin British sunshine. I look as if all my winters have come together to stress their supreme dominance, but I will have none of it – and turn away towards a young couple near me. She’s in ripped jeans and jumper; he’s in jeans and t-shirt – one thick tattooed arm around her waist. My multiple layers and fear of catching a chill must look odd to them – and they walk away, heads together, enjoying the pleasures of love in a cold climate.

On the Train …. 1964

Sitting facing me. She was reading – a fat paperback. My guess was around a thousand pages, and it been read before - although she was only a quarter of the way through (looking at it from the wrong side, of course) the book had that sagging limpness you find in thick paperbacks when read more than once. It was fiction too, but I couldn’t get the title because she held it down on her lap – legs crossed – concealing the cover and spine.

She was interesting. Old enough to be my mother, although there was little about her to prompt a nineteen–year-old male to think of his mother. Her diet starved thinness (I don’t think she was ill) made me think of Egon Schiele’s drawings – gaunt and aggressive. Dark hooded eyes, concave cheeks, sharp jaw, wide mouth - her coat, a houndstooth tweed looked fabulously expensive, the sort that Jaeger used to do – it was unfastened, and I could see her black jumper and skirt.

So the train rattled along and we sat with our knees almost touching. Occasionally she looked up and glanced at the other people in the carriage – just a glance, but you could see that her eyes were incapable of moderation – she looked at us with indifference, as you might expect – but you knew that her eyes had only one other mode, and that was a lethal possessiveness. There would be nothing in between – you would mean absolutely nothing to her, or you meant everything.

She was a bit of a sensation – the air was frazzling around her – she was exotic – at least for the male passengers on a provincial railway train in the north of England. Perhaps the male passengers had ideas of their own – no doubt ideas they wouldn’t have wished to share with anyone.

Me … I just wanted to know the title of her book.

City Snow

When you walk quickly people often stop you and ask the way – you look like someone who is busy, purposeful, knowing what you are doing. I was stopped yesterday on Mosley Street by a Pakistani girl; she had walked down from Piccadilly, probably from the railway station. She asked me if I knew how to get to ‘Albert Hall’ and I told her that there wasn’t an Albert Hall in Manchester, but there is an Albert Square – ‘Yes, yes, yes’ - she said - ‘Sorry, that’s what I meant, Albert Square.’ I gave her directions, which were fairly straightforward, but she looked doubtful and couldn’t identify where to turn right. I said that I was going that way and I would show her.

We set off together. She told me that the guidance on her mobile was useless – it kept telling her to go down Market Street. I said that Market Street was not a good idea. She said that it might be okay for cars and I replied that it was pedestrianised – she laughed. As we walked into St Peter’s Square it started to snow.

Pakistani girls are marvellously polite – I’ve noticed it before – reminding me of how the English used to be. They give up their seats on trains if they see you struggling; they step back in doorways to let you go first. Or maybe it’s just me; maybe they are just nice to white-haired men of a certain age. This girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen – she was bright and wide-eyed about all the Christmas lights as we came into Albert Square. She turned to me – to say thank you - snow landing on her baggy beanie hat, and she looked so sweet, so endearingly cute in her puffa jacket and skinny-leg jeans – jeans efficiently ripped and frayed and showing her brown knees.

As told to me….

‘I’ll tell you this – I was always brilliant at job interviews. I was at my best at interviews. If I got to the interview stage, the job was as good as mine. It was just a knack – whatever it was, I had buckets of it.

Once I went for an interview with a firm who set up exhibitions. They were based in swish offices in Chelsea, and it doesn’t get better than that. They also had a warehouse or whatever in Hertfordshire, although I wasn’t told what that was about. They had advertised for someone to expand their client base and help take on new areas of activity. Their basic work was subcontracting from the big London galleries but they wanted to go into trade exhibitions and the like. I went for an interview and - with absolutely no experience in that line of work - got the job.

I arrived on the Monday morning start date and was shown to my desk. Everyone was so nice and decent to me – they couldn’t do enough to make me feel at home. They showed me where to get coffee and snacks from, showed me how the holiday list was drawn up, showed me how to use the trade directories, how to work the internal messaging service, how to work the heater, how to claim expenses, which taxi firm they used, they showed me the conference room and the rooms for entertaining clients, they showed me where the toilets were.

The boss came to have a chat with me and he was so nice and friendly, he showed me his office and introduced me to senior staff, all of whom shook me warmly by the hand. The boss said that he liked to think there was more to working for the firm than just…well, working. They enjoyed being together outside business hours – they socialised – they had meals together and drank together – they made up a cricket team and played in the villages league in Hertfordshire.

Everything was perfect. I’d cracked the dream job. Great working environment, good salary, great workmates and – to put the final crowning glory on top of everything – I was introduced to Charlotte, who would ‘help me get settled in’. Beautiful Charlotte.

Most of the morning was spent learning about how exhibitions worked and it was fascinating. At twelve I was told it was lunchtime. I walked out onto the street and then into Fulham Road - and never went back.’

Stella ...... (for Mo Amv)

Our birthdays were in the same week, so there was a little celebration in the classroom for both of us together. We were seven years old.

Stella was different from the other (bossy) girls - she was quiet, withdrawn, shying away from any sort of attention - as if the only thing she hoped from life was to be left alone. If I search through files I’m sure I have a photograph of her – a class photo – and she’s at the front with her waxy hair and ugly National Health glasses – squinting in the sunshine. She lived in a very poor part of town, just a few streets from where I lived, but the houses had no bathrooms, no lavatories (there was a row of sheds in the yard which were emptied by council workers). She seemed to have no friends, and she had no dad.

It was summer and Stella had been away from school for a few days. I found out that she was ill after having dental treatment at the ‘school clinic’. This was a building of great terror to all of us. It was right next to the parish church and sometimes, in summer when the windows were open, you could hear the screams of children inside – having their teeth drilled without any form of anaesthetic.

And then I saw her in the street. I invited her to come to my house and she nodded. All the way she walked behind me and I had to keep turning to see if she was still there. As we got to the house I went to her and held her hand.

My mother, no doubt surprised, was very gracious to Stella - she made small talk but was okay at not getting any response and she brought some drinks and cakes into the front room for us. We watched TV, not speaking and not needing to.

Manchester Nights

They used to meet in a city centre bar – both going straight from their offices – this was during the week but never on a Friday evening – she had to explain to him. He would order a whisky sour and a vodka and they would sit in a banquette away from the door but facing the street. Just a young couple happy together; perhaps in love - nothing very unusual in all this – nothing at all.

Manchester was an austere city in the 1960s; not at all like the place it is today. You didn’t go to Manchester to have fun; it was a place of business; of dark warehouses and triumphal banks. No one lived in the centre, no trees, no greenery at all, no break from the heavy orthodoxy of commercialism.

But it was nice in the bar where nothing distracted them from each other – except her eyes kept flickering across to the street – to the building facing them in the street. She was mesmerised by the huge sign in the yellow street light:-

J. & E.W. Kegan (Imports) Ltd.

She read it as JEW.

‘Who is Sylvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?....’

(Two Gentlemen of Verona)

Well, I could tell him! Sylvia Hulme was twelve and she always had a swarm of younger children around her. I was the same age and was part of a gang and we spent the long summer holidays playing in fields and woods near the lake. Somehow, one sunny day, our two groupings met up, and sat on the ground and talked. One of Sylvia’s friends organised the younger ones and although I couldn’t see them, I could hear them laughing and shouting – and then they started to sing nursery songs. Sylvia was very much the boss but she was also gentle and understanding; she spoke to everyone and used their names – she had a forceful personality.

I don’t know how it happened – was there a pretext, had words been exchanged, had I given an audacious signal or had we mesmerised each other? Whatever it was, Sylvia and I got up and walked together into the half light of the trees - the mushroomy smell – the moss and dampness – the sky no longer above and earth no longer below - if you get my meaning.

The next time I heard of Sylvia was through a friend who told me that she was having private lessons in book-keeping from the superbly named Mr Byron. Mr Byron was an early-retired teacher – a tormented Romantic figure, fulfilling the promise of his name – from whose house came an endless parade of seventeen-year-old girls, all paying their four shillings an hour to get good ‘O’ level results.

I was eager to make contact with Sylvia so I waited across the road, facing the iron gates of maison Byron. She was very beautiful and was amused to see me waiting. Yes, she was having lessons in basic accountancy and no, she didn’t like it. She had other plans – she was joining the Navy, although her parents didn’t know that – yet.

And that was it. I never saw her again, or heard about her. I went home, thinking about what she had said – she was going to sea – going to sea, sea, sea. And then THAT afternoon came back – full force. With the wet grass and the smells and Sylvia taking hold of me like someone who knew what she was doing.

And beyond our own breathy noises, how we could hear the children singing a clapping song:-

‘A sailor went to sea, sea, sea

To see what he could see, see, see

But all that he could see, see, see

Was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea !!!’

Angela and Bob in Highgate…..(1966)

Nice couple, early/mid thirties, living in a lovely house in Cholmondeley Crescent, Highgate. He a scientist; researching into genetics; she teaching pharmacology at UCL; three young sons. They went out a lot – all sorts of invitations and hardly ever declined. Bob used to go parties with his students, and would come home late and Angela was fond of the London art scene and dragged her husband to first-nights. Bob made no secret of being ‘close’ to some of his female students. Angela insisted that she must never meet them. That was the way they lived.

Bob was an unlikely ladies man. He was dull looking and despite following the trends of the day – and holding on tightly to the idea that he was still young – he somehow always looked a bit old fashioned. I think he would have looked old fashioned at any point in history. It’s hard to actually put a finger on what was wrong, but he looked the type who belonged in a Pringle jumper and wore yellow driving gloves.

Angela, small, blonde and nervous, was quite different, she knew how to dress. All her clothes had a boutique look – expensive boutiques at that, and she had just the right throw-away attitude to complete the image. She carried an air of trashiness that made her very attractive.

Angela was more complicated than Bob. She loved the company of young, long-haired, bearded, troubled young men. She didn’t find many such in the faculty of pharmacy at the university, but she did find them in art schools. The ones she liked best were those in various stages of despair – who had no confidence in themselves – who had paint or plaster dust in their hair - who were poor and weren’t eating properly – who had emotional difficulties – who drank too much – who needed a good hot bath and a clean shirt - who smoked drugs – who didn’t believe they had anything to offer a girlfriend. Angela would throw herself into action. She, the genius at making things happen – and having the money to throw at it – she who had an encyclopaedic knowledge of restoring the undernourished body – she who had dabbled in psychiatry (Ronnie Laing was a friend of hers!) knew how to soothe the damaged psyche – she who lived with four males, knew how the masculine mind worked – she with her perfect head-girl accent and Rodeo Drive clothing and jangle of ethnic jewellery, could make mountains move – she took intense pleasure in sorting these young men out, putting them on their feet, so to speak.

I sometimes felt it was the sanitised perfection of her home life that drove Angela towards its opposite. The ideal husband, with his simple promiscuity, the creative children with their wooden toys, the lovely house with the stained glass upper windows, the bright kitchen, the balanced diets they all followed, the sheer cleanliness, the sheer success of their lives.

What became of them? Twenty years later Bob was no longer mentioned in medical directories, so we can presume that he had died. Much later, Angela, then in her eighties, and having lived for years in squats, became one of the campaigners in the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ incident – following which she took the demonstrations to St. Pauls and City Hall in London.

New Year’s Eve

It probably hasn’t occupied the minds of the others so why should I bother? No one has ever mentioned it to me – it is over and done with. Not many of us left now; our ranks thinned by this and that. But in my thoughts I can put it all together; I can recreate the time and the place. I can tease out the smiles and the occasional stabs of kindness. I can recreate the sharp shadows and the way we shouted above the noise. And the easy rides of our laughter and the unease at what would happen to us.

And the cold night outside when we huddled like survivors and looked up at the clock. How you opened your coat and it was like a warm room. How we all moved forward into our unexpected successes, tragedies – and betrayals.

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