#i dunno about the last two but it's kinda rings true to their characters? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avintagekiss24 · 3 years

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—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

#bad things happen bingo #buckybarnesbingo2021 #ssb2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #5k...holy god

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unfilteredaj · 3 years

Text

A night out (Rorschach x Reader)

(A/N- This is probably SO OUT OF CHARACTER and it's kind of dumb but I love Rorschach and wanted to write a self-indulgent ficlet)

(Warnings: EXTREMELY corny and self indulgent fluff, Cursing, mention of being followed/a stalker... nothing really that bad tbh.)

---

Rorschach wandered the streets of New York, the crisp chill of the night clearing his head more and more each second. Even though his friends had all been more than welcoming of his couch-surfing, he needed some time away from them. Time without the pressure of a case to solve.

His little bubble of quiet was burst by something odd, to say the least. A girl he'd briefly noticed a minute or two earlier strolled up to him, giving a wave and an excited "Hey!"

She threw her arms around his neck as if he were an old friend. She was wearing a small backpack over a hoodie with a band logo on it and looked no older than her early 20s.

Rorschach froze, confused. He obviously didn't know this girl.

"I am so sorry to just barge up like this but I'm pretty sure I'm being followed. Please just walk me to a bar or something." She whispered, sounding frantic. He looked around, seeing a suspicious looking guy a few hundred feet behind them. Rorschach nodded, playing his part and hugging the girl back. She looped her arm with his as they walked.

…

"What were you even doing out so late? Especially alone?” He asked after a few minutes.

"I dunno. I wanted to see the city at night, I guess. It was kinda dumb to go alone." She laughed, her tension melting. Her giggling strangely reminded Rorschach of the jingling sound her many bracelets and rings made. She un-looped her arm from his, thrusting her hand out for a handshake.

"I'm (Y/N). Thanks for helping me back there."

He returned her handshake, her fiery enthusiasm annoying and a little endearing at the same time.

"Just call me Rorschach." He said gruffly.

She flashed a toothy grin at him. "Pleasure to meet you. So.. where are we going?"

Rorschach shrugged. He didn't really have a destination. "You said to walk you to a bar..."

She groaned dramatically. "That would be so boring, though! A moody, mysterious stranger is far more interesting than a bar. I can't leave now. No way! You're stuck with me. Lets walk and talk a bit more.”

"Fine."

Rorschach let her lead, his own boredom convincing him to stick with this strange woman.

....

"Hey what's with that sign? It pretty neat, and the world IS burning... but why carry it around?" The girl asked after a few minutes of casual conversation that mostly consisted of her talking a lot and Rorschach giving small replies.

He shrugged. "Why deny the truth in the face of Armageddon?" He said rhetorically.

She chuckled, tilting her head at him. She broke into another grin. "Can I hold it?"

Rorschach looked deep in thought for a second, but before he'd thought about it for too long, she grabbed the sign anyway.

He huffed in annoyance and she just stuck her tongue out at him. But he didn't take it back. He instead watched as she twirled it around a few times and admired it.

"You are so weird. I like it!" She said matter-of-factly, handing it back.

Rorschach just rolled his eyes. He propped the sign in the opening of an alley, letting the girl take his hand and drag him along.

"How do you know someone's not gonna steal that thing? Or what if you don't remember where you left it?' She said

"I'll remember, trust me. Everyone knows it's mine."

He noted that she hadn't let go of his hand. He didn't think it meant much, and he didn't really mind, so he didn't pull away. She hummed absent-mindedly as she looked through random store windows.

A few minutes later, they came across an empty park, and the girl let go of his hand, making a beeline for the swings.

She sat, gesturing for him to follow. Under the soft glow of the park lights he could see her more clearly. Her face was flushed, her cheeks a bright pinkish-red from the cold.

“So what’s your story? Do you live here? In the city, I mean?”

Her question seemed innocent enough, but Rorschach knew the whole story seemed more sad than it actually was.

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that.”

The girl laughed again…. She was impossibly bubbly. But paired with her unassumingly pretty face, it suited her.

“And you?” Rorschach gave her an opportunity to talk more…listening was easier for him anyway.

“Oh! I’m just visiting for the winter. But…I kind of want to stay longer. There’s so much beneath the surface here… so much to see and do. So many interesting people.” She nudged him.

“Interesting isn’t the word I’d use. More like dangerous. Someone like you…this city will tear you apart if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

"....Do you really think the world is ending?" She asked after a long pause.

Rorschach shrugged. "Dunno. Probably. There's so much filth... Bad people doing fucked up stuff..."

"But there are still some good people.... You seem like a good enough guy. I mean, we've been hanging out alone for almost an hour now and you haven't tried anything suspicious. I knew my sixth sense was right."

Her eyes had the same glimmer as a kid telling a friend a secret.

"Sixth sense?" Rorschach asked, his interest piqued.

"Oh, You're suddenly curious for once?" She teased. "I have this sense about people. Like you, for instance. I can tell you're a loner. You think being alone is less complicated. You seem smart, and I think you're a good guy even though you're a bit rough around the edges."

He smiled a little at her observation. It felt strange, but good. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd relaxed like this.

Snow started to fall, a thick veil of white quickly covering the park.

(Y/N) tilted her head back to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"Let's go get hot cocoa!" She exclaimed, pulling Rorschach from his swing.

"Ok..."

She gripped his hand like an excited kid, pulling him into the nearest 24 hour diner.

....

She giggled as she reached across the table, gently brushing snow from his hair.

"Why?" he muttered, cringing a little.

"Sorry." Her voice retreated with her hand. The red in her cheeks had lifted to a slight pink, but now her cheeks blazed again.

"I'm not really... good with people..." He said. His face showed no shame or remorse. This was just a fact.

"I get it. But.. why help me earlier? Why let me drag you around town all night?" She asked

He stared a her blankly for a long while. Just when she thought he wasn't going to say anything, he answered.

"You needed someone....Maybe I did too." He shrugged, mostly talking to himself.

The Waitress brought them their drinks, And they gladly accepted the warmth.

“I can’t believe you didn’t get hot cocoa! Black coffee is for Cops and School teachers running on empty.” The girl laughed.

“You like me. Why?” Rorschach said suddenly.

“Hmm… I dunno. Helping me lose that guy was the first thing…” She Began. “but you seem so confident in yourself. Like you aren’t bothered by anything. But you have these walls up to keep the world out. You seem like someone who needs help coming out of your shell. And besides, don't think you mind the company, or you’d have dropped me off at a bar an hour and a half ago.”

“I don’t have many friends. I’m not friendly or outgoing. I’m kind of a recluse most of the time. But that doesn't bother you. You’re like a tornado of post-teen energy. I can’t really look away at this point.” Rorschach admitted. And it was true. For some reason, she intrigued him.

“You’re adorable. So angsty. Like a ginger Bruce Wayne… just without all of the annoying ‘rich boy’ machismo.” The girl smirked into her mug of cocoa.

It was a strangely fitting assessment, little did she know.

“Adorable?” He looked at his companion as if she’s just spoken another language.

“Oh for sure! It’s funny though. You've got this... weirdly charming look to you.” Her analysis sounded lighthearted and informal, but something in her eyes told Rorschach that it was genuine.

He guessed if he were someone else he’d like her too. She was nice, in an energetic, ditzy sort of way. And he did find her pretty. Before he could reply, (Y/N) had her face pressed against the glass of the window beside her, admiring the snow.

He took the opportunity to change the subject.

"You like the Snow?" He noted.

"I love it. I'm from the south... We never get to see it." She said longingly.

"Maybe if you stay in the city you could see it more often." Rorschach muttered.

Her eyes were practically stars when she turned to smile at him.

"You think I should stay? But I thought you said it was dangerous."

"That was when you didn't know anyone here. You know someone now."

He sipped his coffee, his eyes flicking away from hers for a few long seconds.

“It’s getting kind of late. Whaddaya say, handsome… walk me home?” She said hopefully.

“…Ok.”

They payed for their drinks, and ventured back out onto the icy sidewalk.

(Y/N) grabbed Rorschach’s hand again as they walked. And, once again, he didn’t protest.

She yawned, leaning against him a bit.

“I’ve had the best time. I’m glad I saw you earlier.” She grinned.

“Letting you drag me around town isn’t the worst night I’ve had…” he replied.

A few minutes later, they arrived at an apartment building.

“Well…this is me. Thanks for the nice night.”

She fished a sharpie out of her backpack, grabbing his hand and scribbling her number on it.

“If you ever find yourself bored and want some company, let me know.” She said.

“I will.” He said, his hand suddenly feeling cold when she let go.

After a few seconds of tense silence, she finally balled her fists into the fabric of his coat, bringing him down for a kiss.

It was quick, and sweet… the same as the night they’d just had.

“Take it easy, Rorschach. And call me.”

With that, she gave a small wave as she disappeared inside.

“What the fuck…”

Rorschach repeated the question to himself dozens of times on the way back to Nite Owl’s apartment.

#sorry if it’s super bad #but I FINALLY finished a oneshot #for ONCE.#so I’m proud #rorschach #watchmen

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exploring-in-space · 4 years

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Aching to Come Home

Robron Week 2020 Day 3: Criminal

Summary: After getting out of prison himself, Aaron meets Robert through a prison penpalship.

Note: This is a little bit of a cheat, but I think it still kinda counts haha also this is 100% a real thing, I spent a good chunk of time scrolling through a website about inmates wanting to start a correspondence!

Word count: 4300

In the end, it’s Aaron’s counselor who encourages him to start a pen pal correspondence with someone currently incarcerated. Aaron has just recently been released after spending a year long stretch for GBH, and he’s been seeing his counselor to transition from being in prison into society.

Aaron had heard of people striking up friendships and even relationships through prison pen pals. It was all a bit crazy if you asked Aaron. Still, one particularly bad day, Aaron sits himself down and scrolls the website his counselor gave him. Some are explicit in their desire to have more than friendship, making Aaron exit out of their bio pages quick enough.

Around the time Aaron is about to give up and tell his counselor to do one, he stumbles on a bio page unlike any of the other bios.

The man honestly looks like one of those white collar criminals that Aaron always hated. Especially given the fact his occupation before was an estate manager. But as he reads through the bio, he’s shocked to read that this man, Robert, is carrying out a life sentence. It’s not like other profiles were shy about stating the reason for being incarcerated (in fact, Aaron had quickly learned that some people are actively attracted to people depending on their crime…).

It’s just...this man doesn’t look like a killer. The picture chosen for the bio is not the typical kind of picture that others had posted. Most were pictures of them in the prison yard, or pictures from before prison. Robert’s wasn’t like that. In fact, Aaron couldn’t even tell if it was taken while he was in prison or if it was a pre-prison photo.

Aaron’s curiosity is too great and it compels him to grab a sheet of paper and start writing. He introduces himself and tells Robert he’s writing because he just got out of prison himself. He doesn’t know how much to put in the letter - Aaron doesn’t necessarily want to spill his guts to a total stranger, but he does share his age and why he’d been sent down. The letter looks sloppy with Aaron’s scrawl and he’s ready to just toss it in the bin and call this whole idea stupid and pointless.

But he glances at the site again, and looks at Robert’s picture. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but the piercing gaze of Robert’s eyes somehow convinces him to just send the silly letter.

So he does. Posts it on a Friday evening and Aaron proceeds to get hammered that night, trying to erase the embarrassment he feels at doing something so out of character. Monday morning, he meets with his counselor for his biweekly session. Tells her about the letter he sent and they talk about it for a while.

“What do you hope will come from this?” She asks, crossing her legs and sitting up to take a good look at Aaron’s reaction. He shrugs and picks at his fingernails to ease his nerves.

“Dunno.” Aaron finally answers with a sigh.

She looks at him thoughtfully before carefully uncrossing her legs and leaning forward. “I think you do.”

Aaron doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t press him any further. Lets the statement lie between them, and it works. He thinks about the letter for the rest of the day and well into the week. The picture of Robert’s face burned into his mind.

The rest of the week has Aaron working at the garage. Cain had offered his old job back when Aaron had gotten out and while it took a few days of Aaron debating it, he finally accepted the offer. It’s good to get under the bonnet of different cars. It allows him to not dwell on the letter he sent.

Weeks pass and Aaron doesn’t get a letter back. He stupidly checks the post everyday and gets disappointed every time there’s nothing. He’s not sure why he’s so disappointed. Maybe because deep down, Aaron knows the reason for sending the letter was because he wished someone had reached out to him while he was inside.

It’s around the time Aaron has given up on the idea that Robert would reply that he finally receives it. The front of the envelope shows a neatly written penmanship, the opposite of Aaron’s. Heart racing, Aaron tears the envelope to read the letter.

It’s short, but Robert thanks Aaron for the letter and tells him he hopes they can continue to send letters to one another. He asks Aaron a few questions about himself and offers that he’s from Hotten. It’s an unbelievable coincidence and it makes Aaron wonder if this was fate. He shakes the thought away, the idea too ludicrous to entertain. But he immediately responds to Robert’s letter, eager to share that he’s from Emmerdale.

After the initial lag in response time, Robert starts replying to the letters much more quickly. They can manage to get letters from one another in about two days’ time and Aaron starts to learn about Robert. They touch on some of the things on Robert’s profile: the fact he’s taking classes to get a degree inside, the son he has named Seb, his family that still live in Hotten. And things not part of his bio: the fact he’s bisexual, the worry that he’ll most likely die in prison. It’s incredibly intimate and personal and makes Aaron want to share his own secrets to him.

Aaron doesn’t ask about the reason for Robert’s incarceration - he doesn’t want Robert to feel as though that is his defining characterization. Aaron is of course still curious, and wants to know. But he also respects that part of Robert that remains private, they still don’t know each other that well, despite some of the secrets they divulge to one another. It’s after two months of steady letter sharing before Robert offers it to Aaron unprompted.

I killed a man because he raped my sister. I hit him with a shovel and he later died from it. I don’t regret doing it, I know if given another chance, I’d hit him again. But I never meant for him to die. I pled guilty before he died, hoping that showing guilt would mean a shorter sentence. I hope you don’t think I’m a monster. But I figured it was time you knew.

It’s concise, and it doesn’t beat around the bush. He lays it bare for Aaron to either accept or not. He thinks about Gordon...about Liv. And he knows he would have done something similar if Gordon had even thought about laying a finger on Liv.

The frank honesty makes Aaron want to return the favor. He quickly pulls some paper and writes about Gordon. It’s emotionally wrenching to write about it. Yes, he’s talked about it, and yes he’s testified about it before a court. But to actually write the words? It’s harder than Aaron could imagine. But he does it, and he sends the letter to Robert, more nervous than when he sent that first letter.

Robert's response comes the usual two days later. Nerves fill Aaron as he opens the envelope, afraid of the disgust, or even worse, the pity. But what's in the letter is neither, much to Aaron's surprise.

Thank you for telling me about your dad. You’re braver than I could ever be. Aaron smiles at the words, at the loopy letters of Robert’s handwriting. He talks a little about prison life and answers some of the questions that Aaron had asked in his last letter. But then, there at the end of the letter, written in smaller letters than the rest of the letter:

I want to hear your voice. Can we arrange for me to call you one of these days?

Aaron had never considered them speaking on the phone. Perhaps because it would make this relationship a little more real. He's successfully compartmentalized his letters to Robert and the rest of his life. He knows it's unfair, Robert has nothing else besides prison. Robert has never even asked for a photo of Aaron.

He’s given vague descriptions of himself, like about the time he had gotten a haircut and the barber butchered his fluff at the top of his head. But he knows that’s probably the extent of Aaron offering his personal appearance to Robert. At least Aaron can sometimes go onto that website and gaze at Robert’s face.

You’re braver than I could ever be. Aaron wonders how true that is when he’s hesitating so much to reply and accept Robert’s offer to speak on the phone. But he worries that maybe this correspondence is getting too serious, that Aaron could cross a line he once scoffed at. He likes Robert, quite a bit to be honest. He’s afraid if he accepts and speaks to Robert, it might awaken something Aaron’s kept buried for the past couple of weeks.

Despite all these fears, he still writes his mobile number in his next letter. They arrange for Robert to call Aaron on a Thursday evening, after he’s had his tea and Robert is free to make his call. He sits at his table, squirming and feeling excited and nervous at the same time.

When his phone finally rings, he scrambles to answer the phone, his heart hammering. “Robert?” Aaron asks when he picks the phone up, nerves coiling in his stomach.

“Aaron?” A breath Aaron had been holding exhales when he hears Robert’s voice. It’s soft yet rich. Its timbre sends a small shiver down Aaron’s spine. His voice sounds like it was made to say Aaron’s name.

“Hiya.” Aaron finally says when he realizes it’s been silent on both ends.

“It’s good to hear your voice finally.” Robert confesses softly, and Aaron doesn’t think he’s ever going to tire of this voice. He wonders why he even hesitated for them to speak on the phone.

“Yeah. Yeah, you too.”

It’s silent again, both of them missing their turn to speak, and Aaron starts to worry that maybe this was a mistake. That they should have just stuck to writing letters.

“So...ah, how are you?” Robert finally asks, and it’s tinged with awkwardness. They’ve traded secrets with one another and now they’re struggling to hold a real conversation. Tension that had been tightening in Aaron’s chest eases and he just laughs at the absurdity of it all. It’s infectious enough to cause Robert to laugh alongside Aaron. It becomes less awkward after their laugh and they pick up right where they left off in their letters.

The hour Robert gets is gone faster than Aaron wants it to be. He doesn’t want to hang up, instead, he wants to talk to Robert until his voice gives out. But he knows how other prisoners get when it’s their turn, so they both reluctantly start to say their good-byes.

“We should make this a regular thing, us chattin’.” Robert suggests. Aaron pauses slightly to consider it, but it has Robert quickly adding, “Along with our letters.”

“Yeah. I’d like that.” Aaron agrees with a smile that hadn’t left his face since they’ve started talking. They waffle about for a few more minutes, still not hanging up, before Aaron hears commotion on Robert’s end and the phone call abruptly ends.

Not that Aaron would admit it - he’s not that soft - but letters and phone calls from Robert start to become the best part of Aaron’s life. The little tidbits he gets to share with Robert and the fact he understands the fears Robert has while being in prison are some of the truest moments Aaron has ever been.

Chas comments on Aaron’s improved mood one day, cornering him in the back of the pub.

“What’s his name?” She prompts.

“You what?”

“The bloke that’s making you smile. C’mon Aaron…” She whines, and clasps her hands in a pleading manner.

“There’s no bloke.” Aaron lies, but his mind invariably wanders to the latest letter Robert had sent that sits on his table. She just rolls her eyes and shakes her head, muttering something about how Aaron never tells her anything and he just huffs a small smile. A secret smile. Reserved only for Robert, despite him never seeing it on Aaron’s face.

It goes like that for months, Aaron learns more about Robert’s family, who he rarely sees because Robert doesn’t want them to feel guilty about the fact he’s in prison, about Seb who is growing bigger every time Robert sees him and how Robert worries how unfair it is for a child to see his father in prison. Robert becomes a person who Aaron knows intimately, more than several exes he’s had before. It should scare him, this feeling of affection for a man he’s not properly met. But it doesn’t, he allows himself to feel this flick of happiness through the most unconventional way.

Until one day, Robert is asking whether Aaron would like to have visiting orders.

The question freaks him out. Not because he doesn’t want to meet Robert in person - quite the contrary - but because of the trauma he faced when he was in prison. The memories of Jason and his gang still haunt him months after being released. Robert’s question stuns Aaron and he ends up not responding to it. Days dissolve into weeks and guilt becomes the reason Aaron doesn’t pick up his pen to respond.

Robert calls one evening, and Aaron lets it go to voicemail, shame blooming into his chest. He watches his phone ring and sees when the voicemail notification pops up.

“Hiya Aaron. Hope you’re okay. I haven’t heard from you. I hope I didn’t freak you out with my offer. We can forget about it if you want. I’m sorry.” Robert’s voice is sad, and Aaron’s guilt is all the worse. He’s made that beautiful voice sad.

Aaron lets the guilt fester for a few more days before he finally picks up his pen and finally writes to Robert. He wants to tell him the reasons why he hadn’t responded, why he sometimes falls asleep to Robert’s name on his lips. But instead, he just accepts Robert’s offer for visiting orders.

He has continued his biweekly visits to his counselor, and he tells her about the visiting orders. The visiting orders that now sit on his table, coming a week after Aaron accepted Robert’s offer.

“Are you excited to meet him in person?” She asks curiously.

“I think I love him.” Aaron confesses to her, wringing his hands, wanting to dig his fingernails into his skin and draw blood.

She doesn’t say anything at first, “Do you think he feels the same way?”

Aaron looks at her, and there’s no judgement on her face. It’s what he’s always appreciated about her, the professionalism of masking her emotions. He thinks of the letters, how each one seems longer than the last one, the phone calls where Robert sounds so animated talking to Aaron and the reluctance to hang up, and the sadness of his voice when Aaron didn’t pick up.

“I don’t know.” Aaron replies honestly.

The day Aaron is off to the Isle of Wight, Chas stops him. “Where are ya going?” She asks, eyeing Aaron’s overnight bag with barely concealed curiosity.

“Meeting some mates, that a problem?” Aaron snipes back. He’s still not told her about Robert, thinks she’ll disapprove and throw a fit. To be honest, he’s not really confided to anyone about him and Robert. If Adam had still been around, then maybe he’d know. But it’s a secret that Aaron wants to keep to himself because the last thing he wants is to share Robert with anyone.

“Fine, keep your secrets. But I’ll get it out of you one of these days!” Chas says with a harmless pout.

“Not likely.” Aaron replies, hoisting his overnight back over his shoulder and leaving before Chas can ask him any more questions.

He takes a plane down to the Isle of Wight. The flight is relatively quick, but he couldn’t justify driving the six hours. It gives him a short time to reflect on the path his life has taken. He once thought it was mad that people could fall in love with convicts, maintain actual relationships. And now here he is, six months after he posted his first letter, on a flight to meet someone who clearly means so much to him.

Nerves prickle at Aaron’s skin when he finally is admitted into the visitor’s room. He’s been on the other side of the table so many times, and it of course reminds him of all the bad memories that made Aaron turn to a counselor in the first place. But he tries to put on a brave face, and awaits Robert’s arrival in the uncomfortable chair.

It takes a few moments before prisoners start filtering into the visitor’s room. A few people have come out before Aaron shoots up from his chair when he sees someone who resembles Robert’s photo. His hair isn’t styled in a quaff like the picture, instead it falls a little flat. He wears the prison issued clothes and he looks older and more tired than he did in that fresh photo. But he’s still the most fit person Aaron has ever clapped eyes on.

“Aaron?” Robert asks hesitatingly, standing before Aaron. He's taller than Aaron expected him to be.

“Yeah. Hiya, Robert.”

A sigh escapes Robert, almost in relief or happiness. He grins and actually pulls Aaron into a hug, something Aaron had not been expecting.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to you.” Robert says when he pulls away. “You’re not what I was expecting, to be honest.”

“Disappointed?”

Robert’s eyes drag up and down Aaron’s body in a blatant way that makes the hair on the back of Aaron’s neck stand. Finally his face erupts into an arrogant smirk, “Not at all.”

Aaron flushes red, but takes the flirtiness in stride. They sit down and ease into a harmless conversation. Robert asks Aaron about his trip down, and then it morphs into less small talk and more of their usual banter and conversation.

At one point, Robert laughs at something Aaron says and reaches out to touch Aaron’s hand. Aaron immediately retracts his hands away from Robert, not wanting him to touch him. Robert’s smile drops instantly, a frown replaces it.

“Have I misunderstood us?” He asks quietly, the hurt palpable when all Aaron wants is to touch Robert’s face. The question, though tinged with sadness, dispels Aaron’s initial misgivings before coming down here: Robert sees something between them.

“No, not at all.” Aaron quickly reassures, placing his hands back on the table as a show of goodwill. Aaron hesitates, but eventually tells Robert about Jason. How he was relentless in hounding Aaron, somehow sussing out Aaron was gay, and the torment he faced in the year he was in prison. “I don’t want to give you any hassle.” Aaron finishes with a mumble.

Robert reaches out again and gives Aaron’s hand a squeeze, and this time Aaron doesn’t pull away. “Aaron. I’m in here for murder. Do you think I care what other people think of me?”

Aaron chews at his lip, looking at their linked hands with a sort of fascination. Eventually though, Robert does pull away, before any notices. Robert could talk a big talk, but the fact of the matter was, they both know they need to be careful.

When the guards give a five minute warning, Robert looks forlornly at Aaron, “I want to see you again.”

“I’m here for the weekend, can come back tomorrow, if you want.” Aaron tries to say nonchalantly, but he knows Robert sees right through him.

He smiles and inches his fingers to Aaron, but doesn’t dare to touch him. “I'd like that.”

Aaron visits again the next day, but the visit only serves to confirm Aaron’s fears: he wants more. The phone calls, the letters, the short hourly visits, it’s not enough. He’s promising to visit Robert in two months' time, but it’s not a promise that warms Aaron. He wants to see Robert everyday, lay next to him, trace his face, tell him his deepest secrets and fears, wake up to seeing a disheveled and rumpled Robert. He wants it all.

Life starts to revolve entirely on Robert after that visit. They speak almost daily on the phone, letters still being sent, and Aaron has made it part of his routine to go down to the Isle every other month. They have fights, of course they do. Robert thinks he’s being unfair to Aaron, making him ‘waste’ his life away on someone who might never get out. But if there’s one thing Aaron would admit about himself, it’s that he’s loyal to a fault.

Still, when about a year passes after Aaron first visits, his optimism starts to take a slight toll. How can he keep this up for another twelve years? Aaron wants more. Needs more. Hour long phone calls, letters, and the times he can get down to the Isle...it’s not enough. It can never be enough. Aaron is in love with Robert, but he’s not so much as even kissed him. The hugs they give each other when Aaron visits last a bit too long, but neither of them care. Aaron can’t even write the depth of his feelings to Robert, for fear the letter falls into the wrong hands.

He sometimes feels like a fool for ever penning that first letter. But how can he truly believe that? Meeting Robert, no matter the limited capacity it's been, has been the best thing that has ever happened to Aaron. But Aaron isn’t a patient person, and twelve more years of longing and wanting the impossible dismays him.

When Robert calls that evening, Aaron tells him as much. “I can’t keep this up, I want more.” Aaron whispers it. He knows the phone lines are tapped and he worries confessing this.

“I know.” Robert replies, voice just as soft. “But I’m appealing my sentence. My barrister thinks I can be out soon. They’re confident the appeal will come good.”

Soon. The word holds so much promise but so much ambiguity at the same time. Still, it may be enough for Aaron to hold on. “And then what?”

“Then...maybe, we can give this a proper go, if you want.”

“Then you come home, to me.” Aaron agrees, clutching at his phone uncaring about anyone who might be listening.

“To you.” Robert agrees faintly.

Aaron breathes out a sigh and he’s never felt more in love. It’s probably mad to even try to consider the possibility that Robert can get out early. But hope is a foolish man’s salvation, and Aaron has never considered himself smart.

In the end, it takes another year of fighting appeals and convincing a judge that the initial sentencing was too severe when it was involuntary manslaughter. But Aaron is next to Robert the entire time, supporting him through their letters and the visits down to the Isle. Their phone calls start to become less frequent as Robert speaks to his barrister

The year is filled with Aaron meeting Robert's family in Hoften, shyly introducing himself as Robert's boyfriend. Robert's sister, Vic, welcomes and cries when Aaron explains how the two of them met. He takes to Vic instantly, and he understands better why Robert did what he did. He gets to meet Seb, who is every inch Robert’s son.

But most of all, he gets to tell Robert he loves him in their own language. They’re both careful, but their love for each other is evident in every word in their letters, and the knowing looks and smiles they share when they get to visit in person.

The day Robert is finally released, Aaron stands in the front of the little welcome party that has congregated for Robert’s release. He’s holding five year old Seb’s hand with Diane and Vic standing behind them. Aaron’s heart is in his throat and nerves coil in his gut.

The minutes feel endless and they torment him, feeling as if time has stood still. But finally, finally, Robert walks out of the prison and he takes Aaron’s breath away. Robert is wearing civilian clothes, the first time Aaron has ever seen him in them, and acting on pure instinct, he drops Seb’s hands and rushes to Robert. Robert mirrors his actions and they meet in ght middle, embracing each other, pressing against each other, almost as if to imprint themselves onto each other. There’s tears falling down Aaron’s cheeks that Robert is wiping away, Seb is shouting in glee and Aaron soon feels Seb’s little arms wrapping around the pair of them.

Robert bends down and picks Seb up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Seb ducks his head into Robert’s neck and Aaron crowds father and son, petting Seb’s hair and looking into Robert’s eyes. Robert leans forward and finally kisses Aaron, and he melts. Seb wriggles in Robert’s arms, Diane and Vic are crying but Aaron doesn’t pay them a single mind, absorbed entirely of the feeling of having the love of his life kiss him for all he’s worth.

“I love you.”

Aaron’s not sure which one of them says it, but it vibrates between them and it’s the truest statement he’s ever known. He knows Robert will similarly have to go to counseling like Aaron, and he’ll have to now adjust to a world where people might judge Robert for the sins of his mistakes. But that’s neither here nor there, all that matters is this moment of feeling Robert’s lips on his own.

Despite the long road they may face, Aaron knows they can weather it, because they’re together and Robert is coming home to Aaron.

#robron week #rw2020 #robert sugden #aaron dingle #robron #robron fic #my writing #my edits #My stuff

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365days365movies · 4 years

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March 1, 2021: The Hobbit (1977) (Part 1)

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

When I was 9, my school let us read a very special book, originally meant for kids, but beloved by everyone. My folks and I went to Borders Books (FUCK ME, I miss Borders), and we got an illustrated copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit. I can’t find that book, but if I ever find it again, Imma buy it IMMEDIATELY, I tell you what. And...oh shit, it’s on Amazon for $12?

Well. I just made that purchase, I guess. But yeah, I loved that book when I was a kid, and this was during the same year that Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings trilogy began, with Fellowship, of course. And I wouldn’t end up watching those until a few years later, but I loved those too when I saw them. And I’ve NEVER seen the abridged version, by the way, I’ve only ever seen the extended editions.

Although, I can’t call myself a hardcore fan. I’ve never read the Silmarillion, for example. Although, weirdly, I wanted it as a kid at some point, so I was almost there. But no, I ended up getting into comic books hardcore instead, so I can’t tell you the history of Tom Bombadil, but I can tell you about at least one of the fuckin’ 87 tieles that the Legion of Super-Heroes has been involved in. I’m not gonna like it though.

...Yes, I will, who am I kidding, I love the Legion. Anyway, I’ve still always been a fan of the franchise, and I was extremely excited when Jackson announced that he’d be doing an adaptation of The Hobbit! Seriously, I WAS FUCKING PUMPED, you have no idea. I re-read the book, I was super-excited...and then Harry Potter changed EVERYTHING. Kind of.

See, Harry Potter’s development as a two films made from one book seemed to kick off a trend. Breaking Dawn and Mockingjay are the two that immediately come to mind, as does this film. However, to be fair...that’s probably a coincidence. Yeah, this film was originally developed as two parts, WAY before Deathly Hallows got that treatment. And even then, Jackson and Del Toro had difficulty breaking it up into two parts, and three ended up being easier. Still...the change from two-to-three does feel a little connected to that trend.

Anyway, in celebration of that decision, I’m gonna break this review into three parts! Yes. Really. I want to see if it works. And so, let’s talk about the other most famous adaptation of this book by talking about its creators.

Yup. Rankin-Bass did 2D-animated cartoons, too! And this was one of their most famous ones, dating back to 1977. But wait! There’s more! This was followed by Ralph Bakshi’s version of Lord of the Rings by a different studio. You know, this one?

Yeah, that one. It was only based on the first two books, Fellowship and Towers. But it was technically unconnected to the Rankin-Bass version. Which is why it was REALLY weird when Rankin-Bass came out with an adaptation of the third book, Return of the King, right afterwards!

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE. Because both of Rankin-Bass’ specials were animated by a Japanese studio called Topcraft, who’d actually worked with Rankin-Bass for years. But then, they went bankrupt a few years later, and was bought by Isao Takahata, Toshio Suzuki, and...Hayao Miyazaki. And it was renamed as...

So, this is a Hobbit adaptation produced by the Rudolph people and animated by the people who would eventually become Studio Ghibli. Well, uh...holy fucking shit. Let’s DO THIS BABY. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap (1/3)

As we’re wont to do in this story, we head to Hobbiton in the Shire, where we meet Bilbo Baggins (Orson Bean). A simple Hobbit in a simple home, with a happy and simple life. But one day, he’s approached by Gandalf (John Huston), who seeks a burglar to help with the mission of a group of dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield (Hans Conried).

We also immediately start off with two songs from the original book, and I have to say that I like them a but better in the Jackson movies, but they’re still well performed here. Anyway, after dinner, the true goal of their quest is given. Beneath Lonely Mountain, the ancestral home of the Dwarves, there was a kingdom ruled by the King Under the Mountain, Thorin’s grandfather.

Through reading the lyrics of the song “Far over the Misty Mountains,” Thorin tells the tale of the takeover of the Dwarves’ great golden hoard by the dragon Smaug. Bilbo is tasked to help the Dwarves steal back the treasure stolen from them. And, while he’s extremely reluctant to be a part of all this, Gandalf basically forces him to, the pushy bastard. And Bilbo’s Greatest Adventure now lies ahead!

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Speaking of, here’s the song “The Greatest Adventure”, sung by Glenn Yarborough, who is the living personification of vibrato. Fuckin’ seriously, this guy’s voice is ridiculous, but I love it so much. As the night passes underneath Glenn Yarborough’s hypnotically shaky voice, and uncertain, Bilbo stares out at the moon. Once it’s over, we’re on our way to the Misty Mountains.

Bilbo’s having a tough time with the long journey and rough weather, and it doesn’t get much better when they encounter a trio of trolls. They send out Bilbo to try and steal some mutton from them, but he’s IMMEDIATELY a failure, and also manages to tell the trolls that the dwarves are present. Nice one, Bilbo. The trolls catch all of the dwarves, although Bilbo manages to escape.

The trolls argue about how to cook the dwarves, but before they get to do anything, Gandalf shows up and summons the dawn, turning the trolls into stone and saving the dwarves. While they’re initially quite frustrated by Bilbo’s failure, he makes it up by discovering a horde of goods and weapons stolen by the trolls. This is also where Bilbo gets his classic weapon, Sting.

Gandalf, cheeky bastard that he is, suddenly reveals a map that he’s kept secret from Thorin, its rightful owner. Bilbo, a classic cartomaniac, is able to interpret the map. But there are also runes that they can’t quite read. And so, Gandalf brings them to his friend, Elrond (), who’s wearing a sick-ass glittery tiara that’s hovering off his head. How come Hugo Weaving didn’t have that?

Anyway, Elrond identifies the swords that Thorin and Gandalf grabbed as Orcrist, the Goblin-Cleaver and Glamdring, the Foe-Hammer, because FUCK YEAH, BABY, those are some fuckin’ NAMES! WHOOOOOO!

Anyway, he also points them in the direction of the mountain, and shows them hidden features to the map. They head through the mountains after this, and rest in a cave. Unfortunately, this cave is on Goblin territory, and the group (sans Gandalf, who’s disappeared to make out with Cate Blanchett or whatever) is quickly ambushed by a group of now-horned Goblins, who chant their song as they go “Down, Down, to Goblin-Town”. Which is a song that I love, unironically. It compels me to sing along.

The Goblins nearly kill them when they discover Orcrist in Thorin’s possession, but they’re saved by the sudden appearance of Gandalf with the glowing sword Glamdring. He kills the Great Goblin, and the group run out with the Goblins in hot pursuit. Well, except for Bilbo.

Yeah, Bilbo falls into a cavern below the mountain, and the dwarves think him gone for good. However, he’s miraculously safe on the ground, having landed in an underground aquifer, in which lives THE GREATEST CHARACTER IN THE MIDDLE-EARTH FRANCHISE FUCKIN’ AT ME I DARE YOU

And just so we’re clear, I’m not talking about the film version only, I’m talking about Gollum/Smeagol in general. Granted, I don’t want a film starring him or anything (coughCruellacoughcoughMaleficentcoughcoughClaricecoughcough), but I love this dissociative little dude so much. He’s one of my favorite fantasy characters in general, and is also maybe the best example of a sympathetic villain, in film at least.

OK, to be fair, I love Andy Serkis’ version of the character a LOT, like a LOT a lot, and it’s a great version of the character. OK, so what do I think of this version? He’s...interesting, actually. If I’m honest, I kinda like him. This is similar to how I always pictured Gollum when I was a kid.

I mean, listen to this description from the book, yeah?

Deep down here by the dark water lived old Gollum, a small slimy creature. I don't know where he came from, nor who or what he was. He was Gollum - as dark as darkness, except for two big round pale eyes in his thin face...He was looking out of his pale lamp-like eyes for blind fish, which he grabbed with his long fingers as quick as thinking.

I dunno, that does sound more like this version of Gollum to me, just saying. Anyway, while Gollum is off fishing in the water, Bilbo gets up on the shore, where he finds a little golden ring Not important, just a ring, definitely means nothing at all, NOTHING AT ALL, NOTHING TO SEE HERE.

The hungry Gollum (Brother Theodore) happens upon Bilbo, precious, wonders if Bilbo would taste good, and is basically about to kill him for his sweet hobbit meat, before Bilbo takes out Sting. Now afraid, Gollum offers a game of riddles. The two make a deal: if Bilbo wins at a game of riddles, Gollum will show him the way out. But if Gollum wins, precious will eat him raaaaaaaw and wrrrrrrrrrriggling!

The riddles commence, in a super-fuckin’-classic moment, and also ends with maybe the most bullshit moment in all of fantasy lore. After clever riddles with answers involving eggs, wind, and time, Bilbo’s last riddle is “What’s in my pocket?” The fuck, Bilbo, that’s absolute BULLSHIT!

Not that it matters. Bilbo wins, but Gollum goes to find his ring to show it to Bilbo before he takes him away. Thing is, though, that’s what was in Bilbo’s pocket, which Gollum quickly figures out, my precious. He’s about to kill Bilbo to get back his birthday present, precious, but Bilbo discovers the secret trick of the ring: it turns the wearer invisible, AND THAT WILL NEVER BE A BAD THING EVER.

Gollum thinks that Bilbo’s escaped and runs after him toward the exit. This, of course, leads Bilbo towards the exit inadvertently, and he follows Gollum, then jumps over him to get back. To which Gollum screams the following:

Thief! Thief! Baggins! We hates it! Hates it! Forever!

I hear you, buddy. I hear you. Well, once Bilbo escapes, he reconvenes with the rest, and shares his adventure in the cave, but leaves out the ring. And Gandalf seems to know, based on his dialogue. And I checked, and he figured it out in the book and Jackson movie, too. And I gotta say...WHAT THE FUCK GANDALF

I mean...DUDE. CHECK UP on that shit. Do you wizard job, man! If you’d been like, “Dude...you didn’t find a magic ring that turns you invisible, ight, because we’re FUCKED if you did”, NONE OF THE LORD OF THE RINGS WOULD’VE HAPPENED, AND BOROMIR WOULD STILL BE ALIVE

Everybody talks about the fuckin’ eagles, but WHY DO I NEVER HEAR ANYONE MENTION THIS SHIT? Gandalf the Grey: Middle-Earth’s most irresponsible asshole, I swear...

This seems like a good place to pause, actually. See you in the next part!

#the hobbit #the hobbit 1977 #rankin-bass #orson bean #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #john huston #gandalf #otto preminger #cyril ritchard #brother theodore #gollum #don messick #paul frees #glenn yarbrough #j.r.r. tolkien #rankin bass #hans conried

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mrsgreenworld · 4 years

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Sen Çal Kapımı Episode 16 aka Mistrust Is In the Air

Last week brought us another light and funny but, unfortunately, also a filler episode. Actually, for me, it turned out to be one of the most conflicting ones. I absolutely loved it while I was watching it live. I guess it's because the Haunting of Bly Manor / the Haunting of Hill House pulled out all of my insides and then ripped them to shreds so watching SCK was such a reprieve. This episode was even funnier and lighter than episode 15 which still had some lingering angst. I can declare episode 16 almost completely angst-free.

After having rewatched the episode with the subs I've got a feeling that the writers are trying to mess with some of my favourite characters and dynamics. I don't appreciate it. Still love the show, the cast, the characters. Just didn't enjoy certain writing decisions in this episode. Let's get down to it.

Now I'm going to break my habit and start with the one thing I hated:

❌☣️❌ Eda and Ceren: what the hell was that scene in the office when Eda spotted Ceren and Ferit talking and then tried to... do what exactly? warn Ceren? give some constructive relationship advice? support her?🤔

the first and the main problem I had with the scene was the energy - I don't know what caused it but it lacked the love and warmth that had always been there between all the girls; no matter what happened - even in that shitty situation with Kaan and when Ceren was the first to find out about the contract or even when Fifi and Melo finally learned about it - there was true girl power, they didn't allow anything or anyone mess up their friendship, they supported each other, tried not to judge and be understanding; so for me to see Eda so cold and kinda detached towards Ceren was a shock; maybe it would have been ok in a conversation with Pırıl or Selin since they're not friends but given that Eda was talking to one of her closest friends the way she spoke with Ceren was just wrong; moreover, Eda came off downright condescending; that's why Ceren's reaction was understandable in a way; I liked how she called Eda out on her lack of support;

if you think that your friend is making a huge mistake it's ok to show concern, it's ok to even say "hey, what the hell are you doing?" but you have to do this with love, you have to make sure that your friend knows - even if they mess up you will be there not with "I told you so" but with silent support; I didn't see that kind of love from Eda;

and while (as I have already mentioned) I partially understand and support Ceren's reaction I think it was a bit too aggressive;

and the way they parted with *itch faces just left a horrible aftertaste in my mouth 🤢 - THE *UCK THE WRITERS ARE DOING MESSING UP WITH MY GANG LIKE THAT???

The things I didn't like / was annoyed with:

❎ Selin: what's her problem with Ceren? have I missed something and Ceren stole her man?👀🤔 nope, don't recall anything like that happening;

Selin's channelling the kind of behaviour I really hate - she didn't give a shit about Ferit when they were together, was ready to dump him at the snap of Serkan's fingers and now when they're not together she's behaving as if Ferit has no right to even as much as talk to another woman; what's even more infuriating is that it's not jealousy because it would require having some sort of feelings and there are none on Selin's side; which brings us back to her ego and unbelievably self-centred persona;

her mistrust in Ceren as a lawyer also seems to stem from a personal dislike and Ceren's interactions with Ferit (at least it looks like that to me);

all in all this tension between Selin and Ceren is messing with the female dynamics because it's brought something the writers managed to avoid in the past - women being petty and bitchy towards each other;

❎ Efe: man, if he was just shady in the past, in this episode he was freaking snaky 🐍👀;

I understand that Serkan's attitude is unpleasant to say the least and there were moments when he was downright rude but in his case it's not being rude for the sake of rudeness; I think Serkan has excellent gut feeling; he didn't trust Efe even for a second from the very first meeting and his rudeness stems from this mistrust; Serkan is not a type of a person who's going to pretend to like someone for the sake of appearances, hypocrisy is not in his nature (which is one of the things I admire about our precious Scanner 😍❤️);

but back to Efe - yes, Serkan's not making it easy for him but he was like that from the very beginning and Efe seemed so nice, so friendly, so open to this partnership; all smiles and down-to-earth attitude; so what happened to his face in this episode? Serkan spat into his coffee?🙈😆🤣

I mean, really, have I imagined it or there was barely contained irritation and something even darker on his face?👀🤔 there was a small moment when he was moving a chair with a little bit more force than necessary 😬

I also don't like him getting so close to Eda; I still don't see anything romantic there but rather his malicious forethought is becoming more obvious;

also - was I the only one to think that a black rose he talked about with Eda was symbolic? here's what I have found about black roses:

"In the language of flowers, roses have many different meanings, with black roses specifically symbolizing ideas such as hatred, death, and despair"👀😳😱

ok, I am not calling him a Horseman of the Apocalypse quite yet but damn, he's gonna bring chaos, I am sure 😱😳😬

❎ Engin and Serkan: okay, these two dummies deserve the titles of the worst boyfriend and male friend respectively🤦

honestly, Engin forgetting about Pırıl's birthday shows him as careless and superficial; a man who claims to have been in love with Pırıl for years and who's also been friends with her for so long would have remembered such a small fact unless he's got a serious head trauma🧠🔨

as for Serkan, a character whose certain qualities have been constructed with remarkable consistency, forgetting about Pırıl's birthday is just ridiculous, unbelievable and completely OOC; sorry but that's just lazy writing🤷

it could have been avoided with just one line: "Yeah, it's Pırıl's birthday. I had Leyla send her flowers in the morning" - BOOM! that's it!

❎ Edser: yeah, I know, it's unprecedented for my babes to make it into this section 😬 but there were certain things I didn't quite enjoy;

1 - while the office scene where Serkan asked Eda whether or not she had accepted Efe's offer was humourous and funny it was also painfully immature; that's a conversation between two pre-schoolers not a conversation between two adults;

2 - Eda's conversation with Leyla where Eda asked about Selin; I smelled some jealousy and, honestly, I think it was completely out of nowhere; and Serkan's reactions to them talking also seemed kinda weird because he normally looks like that when Efe is around Eda; jealous of Leyla now?👀😆🙈

3 - karaoke bar scenes; Serkan's appearance was also kinda out of nowhere; since he was adamant about not going it would have been nice to see what had changed his mind; didn't like him telling Eda something along the lines of "we're broken up but I don't want to see you with Efe" - it's the type of "I wanna eat a cake and have it too" attitude that I cannot stand; I understand that it's hard for Serkan but he's made a decision, he's made this bed so to speak, now he has to sleep in it; moreover, discussing this with a clearly tipsy Eda - not a very smart idea;

a dance scene - while romantic and all it lacked logic and seemed a little bit like Serkan was taking advantage of the situation;

4 - a visual side of the flashbacks; they looked weird, as if I was looking through dim glass;

And finally the things I liked😏:

☑️ Edser: while immature and all I cannot deny that their kindergarten level fights are cute; it's better than them being petty, angry and cruel towards each other;

the beginning of the episode was just GOLD, with disoriented and doped up Eda and her calling Serkan "Aşkım" and his reaction like WTF?👀😳 and how when she said something nice he was like "ok, I should write that down and then remind you of this" - he's such a little shit😏😆;

there was also a moment when Eda cupped his cheek and I swear I saw Serkan melt, he was a breath away from nuzzling into Eda's palm and purring😹😻

them being in that house broken up, trying to maintain distance, avoiding physical contact - such contrast with the flashbacks where they couldn't keep their hands to themselves, where they were practically glued to each other;

I loved how the flashbacks were shown through Eda and Serkan's eyes - wherever they looked they saw ghosts of those happy moments;

the scene where they tried to talk and Eda asked Serkan to tell about a day he hurt someone, then a day he was hurting, then a day he was the happiest - so painful to see both of them clearly hurting; while Eda was openly crying, Serkan's eyes were red-rimmed and I swear I thought he was going to start crying too; it's so freaking hard for him to see Eda in pain 😭💔

another heartbreaking moment - a parallel scene when they both talked about their rings; I loved how they used the same, word-for-word reasoning for not taking their rings off; must be the soulmate thing😏😊💞

Serkan's inability to say no to Eda even when they're broken up is my gem; if one day they have a daughter her and Eda will have Serkan completely wrapped around their fingers😂😆🙈

in that last scene when Eda was leaving after her meeting with Aydan, when Serkan asked "Did my mother upset you?" - oh boy, could you maybe be less obvious? your love and concern are right there, on your forehead 🙈😆

☑️ Leyla and Erdem: I dunno I kinda ship them now🚢❤️ 🙈😂

honestly I am so over Erdem's obsession with Fifi; him and Leyla, on the other hand, look really cute together, both a bit cray-cray 🤪

the scene with them hangover in the office, wearing dark glasses - cracked me up; also has anyone noticed Erdem's cup with "Ciao" on it? a nice nod to Italy and maybe a bit of foreshadowing? Italy is not going anywhere; I feel like we're going to get the freaking time jump where Eda leaves to go to Italy 👀😬

loved the "I hate you / Our feelings are mutual" parallel with Edser

☑️ Aydan: this lady has a long way to go until she is in my good graces but I really liked that the writers decided to move her storyline forward;

I think lots of her unlikeable qualities stem from her traumatic experiences and in order to make her character grow and develop those experiences need to be addressed so I am all for this therapy thing; I just hope they are going to continue showing us the progress instead of just turning this into a one-time thing;

I actually liked that she reached out to Eda and asked her for help; while it might seem selfish I think it was clear that Aydan hesitated before calling Eda, she didn't want to trouble her, was embarrassed to ask for such a huge favour - that shows a sort of humility I hadn't detected in Aydan before;

☑️ overall mood and humour + I freaking loved that they addressed Serkan's OCD or maybe it's not really OCD, just a symmetry tick 🙈😆😂 we had snippets of it in other episodes and I have seen people wonder if that's Kerem's acting choice or something he himself does; now it's an official canonical part of Serkan's personality 😁🥳

And... that's pretty much it! Yay!

#sen çal kapımı #sen cal kapimi #sck #sen çal kapımı episode 16 thoughts #sck episode 16 thoughts #edser #eda ve serkan #eda x serkan #eda yıldız #eda yildiz #serkan bolat

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vanchlo · 4 years

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The Assistant / Chapter Thirty-Eight, “Almost There”

Clickable Links:

- Masterlist feat. all chapters and Character Surveys

- Inspo tag

- Playlist

- *NEW* Hecky Blurb from The Sex Bucketlist Fic Challenge (currently an extra chapter)

- Becky Character Survey #2

- Harry Character Survey

Word Count: 7.4k words

Warnings: None

SNEAKKKKKKKK PEEEEEK

“At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word.”

Music Inspo: Sweet Tooth by Cavetown (click to listen)

P.S. - Talk about the most perfect gif up top of happy lawyer Harry c:

“I have a million things to talk to you about. A million things we have to talk about. All I want in this world is you. I want to see you and talk. I want the two of us to begin everything from the beginning.” - Haruki Murakami

“So, Hare, ya think she’ll like it?”

“I bloody hope so afta all tha cleanin’ and buyin’ new stuff,” I respond with a tired sigh, crossing my arms over my chest, sure there’s still dust clinging to me in places.

“We didn’t do any cleaning, you goon, the cleaning company we employ did,” Myles chuckles, bringing warmth to my cheeks. “I think we did good, though- I reckon you did good, seeing as you did most of the work, mate.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, taking a good look at the office that’s sat unused since the remodel.

“When’s her orientation with you, did you say?”

“This Friday,” I answer him, my hand wandering to my mouth where I bite at my fingernail, inspecting the clean office. Even after all of the work that’s been put into it ever since she was hired, I still doubt myself if Becks will like it. Will she like the desk that I chose, or the Merlot colored sofa against the wall, or the chair that I splurged on? She’s going to be the one spending time in here, not me, and I really want her to like it.

“Have you asked her out on that date yet?” Myles questions, stepping forward to adjust the black modern desk lamp, even though I’m sure she’ll move things around once she steps foot in here. I want her to change it to how she likes, just how she likes. Wait, what did he say?

“My’, what tha fook are ya goin’ on ‘bout?” I chuckle, holding out my hand in question to help me talk.

“What, mate? You’re wasting precious time here, you’ll be thirty in a few weeks. I thought we’d have kids and they’d be best mates by now.”

“Oh, shuddup, thirty isn’t that old, and no, I haven’t asked her out yet.”

“And why’s that? You said you ran into her at the supermarket last weekend, and you met her for dinner and drinks the Friday before. It sounds like you had plenty of opportunities, and once again, you didn’t take them,” he almost groans, opening a box of black pens that he pours into a tall black mug with ‘Styles & Lawson’ written on both the mug and the pens. It was his touch, not mine. I know Becks will hate it, she’ll find it gaudy. “Y’know I don’t care if you lot date, just keep it behind closed doors, is all I ask. Keep it professional.”

“‘s too soon, My. I know ‘s already a lot fer her t’ be startin’ a new job, ‘specially her first official lawyer job. I want her t’ get settled in first befo’ I do anythin’, and overwhelm her mo’. And I know, I wanna do all o’ it right.”

“That’s fair, Hare, but you better hurry up. I was telling Rory about her starting, and when he asked to see a photo, he couldn’t stop talking about how pretty she is,” he comments, breaking the box apart before tossing it in the empty bin, giggling.

“My’, don’t bloody encourage him. Rore’s a prick, tho’, even he knows it. She’d neva go fer him, anyways.”

“Are you gonna tell him how you feel about her then, y’know, so he doesn’t try anything?” Myles continues, walking behind Becks’ ‘Autumn Cherry Mahogany’ desk, pushing in the chair as he does a once over.

“I reckon I should, if tha idiot keeps quiet ‘bout it, which’d be a bloody wonder in itself. Watch him try t’ gimme relationship advice, as if he’s had a girlfriend lately fer longa than two weeks.”

Myles chuckles at that, tapping a pen against the desk barren besides the lamp, pens, a desk calendar, and the phone. I laugh along with him, turning around to glance at the wooden shelves that look rather pathetic with the few law books claiming them, but that’s the last thing on my to do list. I reckon she’ll want to add some of her own, anyways.

“You’re really going to leave the walls empty besides that bloody shelf and clock? It looks sad in here.”

“I told ya ‘m gonna let her pick out some prints, and tha firm will pay fer ‘em. There’s no use in buyin’ sumthin’ that she’ll end up not likin’, My. Oh, and tha rug ‘s s’posed t’ come in t’morrow, as is tha new iMac that one o’ Asher’s blokes will set up,” I repeat with a roll of my eyes, forgetting the books and finding him straightening the violet-colored clock on the wall.

“The firm is paying for it, is that right? Jeepers, Harry, she’s making you all soft again. I can’t complain though, because it means you’re far nicer to me for a change.”

“Shuddup,” I giggle, plucking a new pen from her desk to launch at him. “Ya I dunno, she has tho’ and I don’t really mind it. I guess ‘m used t’ it, but it was hard in tha beginnin’.”

“It’s a good thing, really, I mean it. Oh, by the way, did you let her know she needs to frame her degree to hang up in here? Preferably behind her desk,” he questions, turning to point to the eggshell-colored walls that were painted months ago, the exact shade of all of our offices.

“Thanks fer tha reminda. ‘ll hafta text her ‘bout it, I forgot.”

“Yeah, you can thank me for a good excuse to text her,” he grins, his hands falling from the clock until his attention is captured by something else. “Also, why’d you buy a bloody plant? Does she even like them, or know how to take care of them?”

“I dunno, she mentioned once she likes succulents, and there’s a huge ass window right there t’ give it sun, so ya jus’ need t’ water it,” I snicker, pointing to the floor to ceiling window taking up the wall across from her door, like all of the offices. “‘s some kinda succulent, I can’t rememba. I figured she’d like it, but thanks fer yer bloody vote o’ confidence, Mr. Lawson.”

“You’ll get my ‘bloody vote of confidence’ when you fucking finally ask her out, Hare. ‘s been two years, mate,” he insists, flicking the light off as I step out into the hallway.

“I know, My, ya think I don’t bloody know that?”

“I don’t know, Harry, but y’know how I feel about second chances. They don’t come around again, and you got one, so use it wisely and quickly,” he tells me, wagging a finger at me as he closes the door before walking off.

“I know, but I don’t wanna screw it up,” I whisper in defeat to none other than myself, messing with the silver rose ring on my left hand, just as my eyes pan over to the frosted glass door. At the sight of her full name etched into the door, my heart does a jump, from nerves and excitement. “See ya soon, Becks,” I finish softly, patting her name carved into the glass, a bubbly warmth filling my insides with anticipation.

I dunno how much longer I can wait for her.

“Alrighty, then let’s start with’a tour. Follow me right this way, Ms. Holte,” Harry says, leading me out of his office and can I say, giving me a perfect view of his gorgeous bum. Now, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed a bit, I decide silently as I take a quick glance around his office.

“Please stop with the Ms. Holte thing, it’s weird,” I giggle, watching him close his door behind him, and he winks at me.

“What, how come? Yer a lawyer now, Becks, ya gotta be all formal.”

“See, that name sounds much better, doesn’t it?” I tease him, and he shakes his head with a grin.

“I admit it does, but y’know yer gonna hafta decide what ya want people t’ call you. Rebecca, Becky, Ms. Holte, etcetera. But fer formal proceedings, like during cases you’ll be Ms. Holte, so ya betta get used t’ it.”

“Yeah, Ms. Holte isn’t happening if I can help it, it makes me feel old. I’m not a bloody teacher or something,” I remark and he nods his head, his fingers getting lost in his curls as he stops.

“Very true. Well t’ begin our tour, yer familiar with this hallway as it’s tha main one. My office is behind us at tha very end, Myles is down and on tha right as y’know, then Rose’s ‘s on tha left,” he explains by pointing a long finger in different directions, the pink nail polish from last weekend almost entirely gone. I guess Harper needs to give him a touch up, or I could. God, I wish. “Rory’s office ‘s down that way t’ tha right o’ mine, as ‘s Jennings as y’know. Mick’s ‘s down tha way afta his, then Gwen’s, Tate’s, Holly’s, Connor’s- Y’know what, let’s jus’ go and say hi t’ ‘em, I reckon that’ll be easier fer you t’ make sense o’ it all. I was plannin’ t’ introduce ya t’ e’rybody anyways, so we’ll see who’s here t’day and not stuck inn’a case.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” I hum, unsure of how good of a job I’m doing masking my anxiousness, it’s hard to tell.

Evidently, I’m not doing that great of a job, because when Harry looks to his left at me, it’s fair game. “‘s okay, Becks, don’t worry. They’ll all love you too,” he smiles, patting my arm, calming me down and exciting me at the same time with his words and touch.

“God, I’m an open book, aren’t I?”

“Eh, I dunno really. I guess ‘m jus’ good at readin’ ya by now,” he responds with a short wink before stopping in front of another frosted glass door. After a short knock, the door opens and like every other time, I’m amazed by her fiery red hair. “Hey, Rose, ‘m not interruptin’, am I?”

“No, Harry, you’re not,” Rose answers, hanging onto her door, and I watch her eyes pan over to me. “Hi, Becky! I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you, love?”

“I’m good, thanks. How have you been, Rose?”

“Eh, I’ve been better, it’s not easy working for this guy. You should get out while you still can,” she answers teasingly, nodding her head over to Harry.

“Hey, don’t say that! ‘m givin’ her tha tour right now, ya don’t wanna scare her away already, Rose!” he scoffs jokingly, and quickly we’ve left him behind with our laughing that he doesn’t partake in.

“Quiet down, Harry, she’s come back for seconds so she must know how to deal with you by now,” she quips, looking over to me with a blushing smile. Oh, I’m liking it better and better the longer I’m here.

“God, I hope so,” I joke, spending a nervous laugh at the end of my words and so does everybody else, although in a self-deprecating way.

“I’m glad you’re back though, Becky. It’s so great to have you a part of the lawyer team now.”

“Thank you, Rose. I’m really happy to be a part of it too,” I answer shyly, and when I look over to Harry he’s wearing that sunshine smile again that I’d gladly look into, even if it blinded me.

“Thanks fer yer time, Rose, we’ll be movin’ along t’ meet e’rybody else now. There’ll be a formal meetin’ her first day t’ properly introduce e’rybody tho’,” Harry says, patting her on the shoulder before we move on.

We make our way down the hallway, and then soon reunite with Jennings, which wasn’t the best reunion per say after how he treated me at times.

“Don’t worry, I told him he has t’ be on his best behavior ‘round you,” Harry comments with a warm smile, doing a good job at smoothing over any bumps I feel in the road, like he so often does.

A few of the lawyers were gone for the day, including Gwen and Mickey who I’ve yet to hear anything about or meet. I got to meet Holly, Connor, Tate, and Brien who were all very kind. It was nerve wracking, but they were easy to talk to, and it was neat to see their difference in ages, their characters, and their offices. As for those we missed, Harry said I’d meet them the next time when I have my first official day.

“And this ‘s Rory, which requires a bit o’ prep fer meetin’ him, he can be a lot t’ handle sumtimes,” Harry prefaces, stopping in front of the ajar door, but his face falls when he peeks in, saying it’s empty. “‘m not bloody surprised, I can neva find tha idiot when I need him.”

“Looking for me, Harold?” a voice calls, pulling our attention down the hall and towards the lobby. I can almost see where my desk used to be from here, almost.

“Oh, so he can call you Harold, but I can’t?”

“No, neitha can he, he jus’ thinks he’s funny. He’s prolly tryna show off fer you,” he comments, cocking his head to the side as he looks at this Rory fellow questioningly. “Y’know I don’t like bein’ called that, Rore.”

“And what do I care?” Rory replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as he approaches us, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Ooooo, who is this lovely lass?”

“Rory, this ‘s Ms.- I mean, Becky Holte, ‘ve told you ‘bout our new associate,” Harry explains, pointing his elbow to me as his hands sit in his pockets. Slowly with each new introduction, I’ve noticed Harry resume his professionalism, but it feels stronger whenever he says my name. It’s a little hard to get used to after all of the moments we’ve shared over the last two years, but I know that I’ll have to get used to working with him again, and all that it entails.

“Ah, so this is Becky,” Rory smiles, stepping forward to put out his hand as his eyes flit to Harry. With a confused look on my face, I take it and he shakes my hand with his other covering mine. My eyes race to Harry next with a question, but his are stuck to Rory’s with an annoyed expression. “I’ve heard loads about you, love. Welcome to the firm, we’re all happy to have you here working with us. I know Harry is especially.”

“Um, thank you, Rory. I’m excited to be here.”

He nods before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks and sauntering off, loud music soon coming from his office.

“He’s uh, different,” I comment slowly, looking over my shoulder as we walk away.

“Ya, he’s a prat ‘s what he ‘s,” Harry comments quickly, rubbing a knuckle along his hairy chin.

“So, you told your colleagues that you’re happy I’m back?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugs, saying it like he’s not sure of his answer either, but I take it and I run with it. “Perhaps very much so,” he finishes just as his steps cease in front of another closed door. I don’t get the chance to read the name on it, because quickly he’s opening it, and it’s already hard to tear my eyes away from him after he said that. Who do you think you are just saying that kind of stuff and not expecting me to freak out? It gets even worse when he finally meets my eyes with the cheekiest grin sitting there, waiting for me.

“Wow, this is a really nice office. It even smells good, like palo santo or something,” I comment, taking a step into the immaculate looking space. The room is lit up when Harry flips the light switch, bathing the shining desk in light, as well as the wine-colored sofa against the wall to my right. “Look at that view! Dang, whoever’s office this is sure is lucky. They even have a cute little plant on their desk, awe. Whose office is this, anyways? I don’t want to intrude, or anything,” I say, fawning over the cozy room and even how there’s two little tasseled pillows sitting on the sofa. When I bring my eyes back to Harry, he’s leaning against the door frame, arms and legs crossed amongst his tall body. In his eyes sits a tale that I can see he’s itching to tell, a sparkle in his eye.

“Consider yerself lucky, Becks, this ‘s yer new office,” he grins, his cheeks disappearing when the smile almost reaches his ears.

“Shut up!” I exclaim, my hands flying to my mouth as I look at the room in a new light, per say. “I get my own office? I didn’t even think I’d need one, since I’ll always be in yours. Harry, you shouldn’t have!” I sigh happily, hands falling as my eyes start to water.

“‘Course you’ll have yer own office, Becks. I mean ya, you’ll be with me in mine loads, but sumtimes we’re bound t’ get sick o’ each otha,” he says, lifting his crossed arms in a shrug as if they hold words as well. My head falls to the side as I look at him, telling him silently he’s stupid for saying that, and he giggles because he’s just too good at reading me. It’s going to be a long time before I get sick of him again. A very long time. “It’ll happen, I promise ya that. But sumtimes ‘ll be in partner meetings or sumthin’, and ya can do yer research and prep fer tha cases in here. Also, I wanted ya t’ have yer own space since ‘s no fun bein’ stuck in me office starin’ at tha same four walls all day long. And I know ya didn’t really have yer own space befo’ at yer old desk, and ya should’ve,” he completes eloquently, always knowing what to say and how to say it. I hope he can teach me how to do that, because I’m really going to need it. For more than one occasion, and both inside and outside of this firm.

I want to hug him so badly I can’t stand it, because the gratitude and happiness bubbling to the surface yell at me to, and he just looks so cute standing over there so proud of himself. The whole rule about being professional that stuck to me again the second I got off the lift comes back to me, and holds me back from surprising him with a bear hug. Boy, is it hard, and it gets even harder when I don’t see him trying to give me one, either.

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” I almost blurt out, wishing for that eloquent speech trait once again.

“Thanks, bug, I try. ‘m really glad ya like it, really. I have a few sites ya can look at when ya have tha time t’ pick out some prints fer yer walls. Oh, and yer welcome t’ bring in any books ya’d like t’ place on yer shelf and anythin’ else fer that matta, ‘s all yers. All of it,” and with the sunshine smile leaking through in those words, the first tear falls onto my cheek and I couldn’t even care. “Hey, don’t cry, bug. C’mere, come gimme a hug.”

“But I have to be professional, and employees don’t hug their boss.”

“Hush, li’l one. ‘m not yer boss anymo’, ‘m yer colleague,” he contends shrugging, removing an arm from where it’s crossed over his chest to wave me over to him.

“A mentee shouldn’t hug their mentor,” I continue, the next tear falling as indecisiveness buzzes inside of me.

“Rebecca Ann Holte,” Harry insists firmly, and this one triumphs all others. It hurts more than any other, brings back the most memories, and makes the happy tears come even faster. And shit, does it get me going. “Come ova here and hug me, now,” he giggles with a finger pointing to the floor, and I swear it’s the best song I’ve ever heard in this whole entire world, next to the very words he just spoke.

But I can’t get my feet to wake up and in a blink he’s moving over to me with that sunshine smeared all over his face. I feel it cover my body when his long arms come around me, pulling my face against his chest.

“I don’t like my full name,” I confess into his button down, hoping I’m not smearing my blubbering makeup all over it.

“I do, ‘s pretty . . but I like ‘Becks’ betta. Yer my Becks,” he hums from above me, running miles up and down my back with his large hands. His hugs that can fix everything and anything.

“I’m sorry I always cry.”

“‘s okay, bug, ya don’t gotta apologize. I know it means yer really happy,” he muses, eliciting a quick nod from me that sings a happy giggle from above. “‘m so happy ya like it, I worked so hard onnit coz I wanted ya t’ love it.”

“You did all of this?!”

“Well, with a li’l help from me friends, ‘course,” he titters, the sound heard under my ears and overhead. His name leaves my lips in an amazed sigh and he only laughs harder. “Think that means ya like it, hmm, Becks?”

“Yes, I love it, Harry. All of this,” I answer, finding handfuls of his silky blazer in my hands, and his peppery vanilla scent. Too afraid of ruining his shirt, I back up and let go of him, wiping under my eyes embarrassingly.

“Alright?” he hums softly, brushing the hair away from my face and behind my ear. Even just his finger brushing my ear gets me going. Good God, Harry. “Here, lemme look.”

I oblige after doing most of the work and meeting his eyes that I swear I could melt looking into, and I should know because I have so many times. The happiness pours into me at the thought of getting to do it day after day, for as long as I like. Kind of.

“Doesn’t look too bad. Ya still look like me pretty Becks, but don’t wantcha cryin’, haven’t even been here an hour, love.”

“Oh, you knew I was going to cry when I saw the office,” I laugh and his quickly falls behind, tickling my ears.

“Ya, I admit I knew,” he titters and I playfully push at his chest, suddenly kicking myself for ending that hug so soon, unsure of the next time I’ll get one. “Well, shall we keep goin’ with this tour, or ya need anotha minute, bug?”

“I’m okay,” I answer and he nods.

“If ya say so, Boops,” he chirps, brushing the tip of his finger against my nose cheekily. “C’mon, ya have plenty o’ time t’ check this place out. I wanna show ya tha new law library, ‘s a real treat.” I follow his lead, even with tear streaks down my cheeks, because I know that if I’m by his side I’ll always be okay.

Well, so much for that whole ‘being a professional thing’, huh, Mr. Styles? He sure threw that out the door just now, as well as a few more doubts I had about the way he feels about me. Goodness gracious, I’m in real trouble.

I can’t wait.

At moments throughout the day, I could’ve cared less that I was being paid for all of this, because being in Harry’s presence for almost every second was rewarding enough. I got to remember the dark little freckles smattered across his face, the tan ones peppering his nose you can see if you’re close enough, and how utterly happy I feel being around him. He quickly felt like the sun and I was the orbiting planet, constantly around him and hanging onto his every word. Luckily, I was able to do a lot of staring, since I’m familiar with the firm and could tune out at times. He still gave me the grand tour which was a little different at times due to the remodel. I realized there was a post room that I had totally forgotten about, although I’m not sure how.

Harry made it fun, like he always does, but I noticed that he was ‘Boss Harry’ today. At times, he kept the personal talk to a minimum when there was stuff to get done, especially after the scene that unfolded in my office. God, I can’t believe any of what happened in there, and I try not to think about it, because I know I won’t be able to handle it. I called him ‘Mr. Styles’ on a few occasions and I think he liked the sound of it too. Fortunately, for my sake, he only remembered my last name aloud a few more times, because I think we’re both uncomfortable with anything besides ‘Becks.’ But I wouldn’t want it any other way, and I quickly realized that, when that’s how he introduced me to his- well my new colleagues before correcting himself. He really is just the cutest.

“I didn’t dump too much on ya t’day, did I?” Harry asks with a sunny smile, falling down onto the sofa across from me.

“It’s debatable,” I shrug softly with an added laugh, my hand diving into the cloth bag sat between us.

“Hey, I did me best,” he pouts, pulling up his pastel slacks to get comfy, crossing his legs in front of me. Goodness, I really wish he wouldn’t, because it is the best and worst view I’ve ever seen. He looks too damn fine in those pants that hug him in all of the right places, fuck. Fuck me.

I’m sure you want him to, Becky.

Go away, demon, I’ve got this handled.

Pfffft, yeah right.

“I hope ya didn’t cheat while I was in tha loo,” he remarks, pulling his lips inwards to make a popping sound with his mouth, just like that part in Shrek 2 where Donkey does it in the carriage.

“I would not! I can’t believe you don’t trust me.”

“Oh, I trust ya, Becks, jus’ not when it comes t’ Scrabble,” he quips, dropping several tiles onto the thick cardstock board. I hold back a comeback comment as I watch him build off my word, forming one of his one.

H O T D O G

A devilish laugh leaves his cherry lips as I pluck my pre-chosen tiles from my rack. Meanwhile, he adds up his new points aloud and tallies them up.

“What kinda prints are ya gonna buy fer yer office, y’think?” he mumbles, the pen scratching against the yellow legal pad in his lap, doing one good thing, which is covering it from my prying gaze.

“I’m not sure yet, do you have any good suggestions?” I reply, turning over a D that had gotten flipped over, lining up my tiles from his G.

G O O D B Y E

“Nice long one, bug, and I dunno. ‘ve accumulated mine ova tha years, and they’re mostly prints o’ artists I love.”

“Yeah, I see that,” I respond, lifting my eyes to his spacious office that still surprises me with how different it does and doesn’t look from before.

As he said, more framed prints cover his walls. Before, he only had a Rolling Stones black and white picture above the sofa we sit on. Now, he has one of The Beatles from their Sgt Pepper launch party, a print of Mick Fleetwood and Stevie Nicks on the cover of Rumors, a smiling portrait of Cat Stevens playing guitar, and a moody photo of Simon and Garfunkel. The shelf above us is also brimming with new books, including biographies of previously mentioned musicians, and even Uncle-ing for Dummies.

“I like them. Maybe I’ll frame some favorite sheet music of mine, I have no idea,” I joke with uncertainty, finding his smiling eyes across from me, lifting from the pad of paper.

“There’s no rush, Becks, ya got loads o’ time t’ decorate. I jus’ wantcha t’ be at home in yer new office. I mean, ‘m still decoratin’ and ‘s been ova five years,” he comments, setting the pad to the side. “Don’t forget t’ pull new tiles, love.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for the reminder. It’s just weird, but in a good way, because I’ve never had my own office,” I say, reaching my hand into the bag and feeling the cool tiles once again.

“‘Course it’d be weird, ‘s sumthin’ new, but you’ll get used t’ it. ‘m sure you’ll figure out how t’ make it yer own, ya deserve it,” he exhales, his hands folded together against his mouth as he stares at the board intently.

“Thank you, you’re right . . The tiles aren’t going to arrange themselves if you stare that hard. You do know that, right?”

“Yes, Ms. Holte, ‘m well aware, thank you. Bloody hell, already feelin’ like we’re a hotshot coz we’re a lawyer now, are we?” he tuts teasingly, dropping his hands to his rack as he flits his eyes to me with a toothy grin.

“I am not, and watch the name, or no brownies for you!”

“Fine,” he sighs, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he contemplates his move, but his focus is lost when his phone dings.

I try not to intrude, but the look on his face feeds my curiosity, and when his expression does a three-sixty and then another, I can’t look away. He doesn’t share anything though, just types back a brief reply to whoever and returns his attention to the game board. I try to do the same, planning my next attack on the board, but it’s futile because the worry I feel for him creeps up again like it so often does.

“Got any big plans fer t’night?” he muses aloud, laying down the ceramic tiles he’s chosen to form a short word off of my E.

B A K E

“Nah, just finally finishing New Girl after procrastinating it for the last few years. It’s always sad when a show ends.”

“Ah, guess yer busy then, nevamind,” Harry comments, adding up my points aloud before jotting them down. Wait, sir, you can’t just tease that at me. Well, whatever that is.

“Mr. Styles, what ever do you mean?” I ask calmly, placing heavy emphasis on his formal name, one that started as a joke but now I’m liking it more than I’d care to admit.

He doesn’t say anything right away, because of course. He just busies himself by picking out new letters and organizing his rack of tiles. I forgot about my new word long ago, because if I’m honest at least to myself, as soon as the short-hand had reached the three on the clock, I was already feeling melancholy. Now, no fewer than fifteen minutes of my orientation day remains, and the aching in my chest has only kept reminding me that I have to leave him soon. Talk about distracting.

“I mean t’ say, my sista had t’ cancel dinna coz Harper’s sick. So, how d’ya feel about dinna and drinks round two?” he suggests, finally meeting my eyes with his that have a little bit more sparkle to them.

“I’d love to, Harry. Maybe I could get that motorcycle ride already,” I comment, flitting my eyes over to the metallic gold helmet sitting on the edge of his organized desk.

“Maybe ya could, Becks,” he chirps after seeing where I’m looking. That sticky smile winds its way up his face, and finds the hole in the armor around my heart.

Am I in trouble with this man, or what? Fuck yes I am, and I can’t wait to dive right in.

The January day could be warmer, but it could also be colder, and yet with Harry by my side I don’t even notice. We both ditch our bags in my car for the time being, and suddenly I question a few things, mostly the intelligence of this idea seeing as what I’m wearing.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I say, voicing my concerns aloud and I regret it immediately when Harry looks over to me quickly, the disappointment building on his face.

“Oh, that’s alright, we don’t hafta, love.”

“No, I’m talking about the motorcycle ride. I want to, but I’m wearing heels,” I shrug giggling and he nods softly, biting his lip as a thought buds in his eyes. “Oh wait, I think I have trainers in my car somewhere from that one yoga class I went to years ago.”

I hear his delightful laugh in the corners of my mind as I pop open the boot of my car, grateful to my past self for cleaning it once, whenever the last time that was.

“Y’know, ‘m I eva gonna be able t’ get ya t’ go t’ a yoga class with me one o’ these days?”

“Most likely not, if you want my honest answer,” I tell him and he chuckles, but I hear the sadness in it. It goes both ways, being able to read each other like an open book. We may not open ourselves to other people that way, but I think we had let the other person in long before we can remember.

“Here they are!” I exclaim once I locate the old black shoes, soon taking a seat on the edge of my silver car. Harry chirps a ‘good’ as he unbuckles the black leather box on the far back of the motorcycle seat, pulling out a matte black helmet.

I’m reminded of the bitter cold through the thin fabric of my black dress pants that I tuck into my long socks, although it looks dorky.

“Nice socks,” he jokes, lips sputtering with a laugh as I approach him.

“Shush,” I retort playfully, fastening the last few buttons of my long violet peacoat.

“Lookin’ good, Becks.”

“Oh, I know, very motorcycle chic,” I agree jokingly, taking the helmet from him that he holds out to me.

I slide it over my wavy dark curls, and lift my chin to the ceiling of the parking ramp to try and fasten the clasp. After several seconds of trying, I still can’t get it. I grow anxious when I hear the thrum of the engine come to life.

“Okay, I’ve ridden with Robbie on his bike so many times, and I can still never get these stupid helmets buckled. Can you help me, please?” I ask, my hands falling with a sigh to find him zipping up his bulky North Face, a gray hood from his sweatshirt falling over his back.

“‘Course, love,” he snickers, and I know he’s just enjoying watching me struggle. “Didn’t know ya were familiar with bikes, kinda disappointed ‘m not givin’ ya yer first ride.”

“If it’s any consolation it’s my first ride in years, and anything will be better than riding with Robbie. He’s scary on that thing.”

“Don’t worry, ‘m a good driver with anythin’ that’s not a shopping cart. Here, lemme help,” he says softly, his brown leather Chelsea boots echoing on the cement ground as he nears me. The closer he gets, the more my heart starts to race in anticipation for the next moment, and it feels like it stops altogether when I feel the guitar calloused pads of his fingers on my chin. “Lift yer head, please.”

“Yeah, I guess you were a good driver the few times I’ve ridden with you in your Rover.”

“‘Course I was, and ‘m jus’ gonna ignore how yer bein’ a sarcastic li’l ass ‘bout it,” he quips, pulling a laugh from my lips. No longer can I stare at the ceiling or the top of the helmet, and so I finally look to him through the partition although nervously. “Here, I think I almost got it,” he announces, a tune soon flowing from his lips that he hums. Again, it’s that same song that I can never figure out and it’s driving me nuts, but just hearing him hum it makes my heart slow down and relax. I don’t even know why, I guess because I’ve heard it so many times now, and he can relax me without hardly trying. When it comes to touching him, it seems to excite me in a nervous way right from the get go.

Somehow, I had forgotten how dark and long his eyelashes are as they flutter against his skin while he focuses on fastening the strap under my chin. His tongue dots across his lips at times until his bottom lip becomes trapped between his teeth, his thick brows falling in concentration. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anything cuter, but then the brisk wind catches his curls, again I’m uncertain.

“Don’t focus too hard now,” I tease him as the strap tightens under my chin. His features relax with a grin that doesn’t return a comment.

“There ya go, love,” he says, his warm vanilla touch falling away from me and he smiles as he pats the top of my helmet. “Oh here, almost forgot these.”

“What?” I answer, following him over to the bike as I lock my car, shoving my keys into the pocket of my coat. With his back to me, he plucks something from the leather bag of sorts and turns around, placing a pair of suede black gloves in my hands.

“Sorry, they’re prolly a bit large on ya, but ‘s betta than nuthin’,” he explains, and I only answer with a nod, watching him pull on a similar pair. “Ya still wanna do this?”

“By all means,” I agree aloud enthusiastically, stopping at the side of the gleaming black Harley. For some reason, it impresses me even more how the bike reminds me of how good he takes care of his things.

Now, I know I’m really falling.

“Hop on behind me then,” Harry instructs, swinging a long leg over the Harley to take a seat. My, was that a sight. I do as he says and settle onto the cushiony seat behind him, trying to ignore the bitter cold seeping in through my pants, but I’m sure he’s dealing with the same thing. “Ya warm enough, love?” he asks, raising his voice so I can hear him over the engine.

“Yeah, besides my bum, but what can you do?”

He chuckles with an agreeing nod, “Can ya find tha little footpegs with yer feet? Yer feet need t’ go on there and stay there, don’t wan’ ‘em touchin’ any otha parts o’ tha bike that’re hot.”

“Yeah, let me see,” I mumble, looking down and soon finding the little silver footrests. “Found them.”

“Good, now how does gnocchi soup ova on ninth sound?”

“Sounds great. I can’t remember the last time I was there,” I answer with a smile, wishing he could see it, and that I could see his. But I find that I can’t complain when I feel him grab my hands in each one of his, pulling them forward and around his middle to rest on his stomach.

“Neither can I, now that I think o’ it.”

“How come?” I wonder aloud.

“Dunno, jus’ wasn’t tha same without ya there, Becks . . . Gotta hold onto me, ‘kay? ‘s notta very long ride, but that way we won’t get too cold goin’ jus’ ova there. Ya can fold her hands togetha too, if ya like,” Harry instructs, and I’m uncertain how many of his words I just heard after the very thing he just did. Shit, can’t I get a warning when you’re going to touch me? I need to prepare myself for something like that.

“O-Okay.”

“Alright?” he asks softly, projecting his voice over the loud rumble of the engine.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” I answer, my eyes dipping to the space in between us on the seat that I can’t get myself to close, no matter how much I’d like to.

“‘Kay, we’re gonna leave inna sec then. But if ya need anythin’ just, I dunno, pat my chest or sumthin’ since it’ll be loud. I won’t go very fast tho’. Hopefully I don’t have t’ do too much t’ be a betta driver than Robbie.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” I comment and we both laugh before I hear the click of the kickstand lifting, and then the weight of the bike resting on its two wheels.

“Ready, bug?” he asks, sitting forward a little to settle his hands on the handlebars.

“Yeah!” I call out to him, grabbing onto the front of his coat and feeling him under my touch, but the shyness keeps me from feeling more of him. It always manages to keep me from getting closer to him, all throughout the last few years.

He nods in front of me and within seconds he backs out of the parking spot slowly, then pulls down the aisle with a rumble of the engine. Luckily, we meet few cars in the parking ramp and soon we’re joining traffic. Harry was right, he is a good driver and already a better one than Robbie on his motorcycle. I can’t keep count of how many times over the years he’s made me feel safe so effortlessly, and once again he’s done it, and it only makes me fall harder.

Harry’s long legs come to sit on the tarmac when we approach a red light, but it quickly switches to green and he turns, the engine purring beneath us. The wind whips past us, but the helmet helps with some of it and so do his borrowed gloves that do indeed swallow my hands. They’re warm and cozy inside, likened to the feeling consuming my chest in this moment.

I’m not sure if I’d admit it to him, but this is the most fun I’ve had on a motorcycle ride before, although again it’s not that hard to beat the past rides I’ve taken part in. Somehow albeit unsurprisingly, this makes me find him all the more sexy as he drives us safely through town and expertly. The only thing that could make it better is getting to rest my head on his back, or in the crook of his neck. Despite knowing he wouldn’t mind, I refrain. Louder in my mind is the desire to scooch forward and have my chest against his back, but that too seems too intimate and it kills me to stay away.

“How ya doin’, bug?” Harry calls over the noisy traffic and engine when we come to another red light.

“Good, thanks!”

“Glad t’ hear. Are ya warm enough?” he continues, the bike stilling when he places his feet on the road.

“Yeah,” I answer, never sure if I’m speaking not loud enough or too loud.

“‘Kay. Ya don’t hafta be so far away y’know. I don’t bite, Becks,” Harry comments lightheartedly. “Scooch closer t’ me, you’ll be warmer that way.”

I nod, again feeling stupid because he wouldn’t know the difference if I nodded or shook my head. I oblige and close the distance between us like I’ve been itching to do, soon feeling the warmth from his body against my front.

“There ya go, ‘s that betta?” he says, patting my knee, once again scaring me in a good way. I respond with a short affirmation and a comment about how warm he is, and his head moves up and down. “Good, you’ll help me stay warm too, y’know. Ya’ve always been like a li’l heater.”

I’m not sure if he hears my laugh, but I’m okay if he doesn’t, because this is all more than enough. It’s just enough to be with him, and now behind him on his bike resting against his back with my arms around his middle, I don’t know how I could ever have anything to complain about. But then I remember all of the things I want with him, and how they’re just an arm’s reach away and not again for nine days. I smile sadly against the inside cushioning of the helmet, assuring myself that I’m getting closer to that with every day that passes, and that not even a month ago I never would’ve believed where I’d be today.

“Almost there, Becks,” Harry tells me over his shoulder as he returns his feet in front of mine while the traffic moves ahead.

“Yeah, we’re almost there, Harry, after all of this time. Almost,” I mumble aloud, the words dancing across his back and taken away by the wind.

Maybe he heard me, and if he did I don’t care, because we’re so close. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks it too.

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astroellipse · 3 years

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rambling time :)

Hmmm I realize now why Urianger is actually leaving the party at this point. It’s to force Thancred to actually do something concerning Minfilia. He’s served primarily as her emotional support up until now, with Thancred... idk he gave her a headpat a couple of times. His optional dialogue there was “I will talk to her. When the times is right.” You dumbass the time has been right for an eternity.

Oh and now we get death baited again. I was genuinely afraid the first time that they really killed Thancred. He seemingly had enough death flags for it, unlike with Y’shtola whose apparent death came from nowhere. God... and the hiding his very soul stuff... I wonder if that’ll make a return later. Certainly is convenient, not to mention dramatic. But man this really was bait, he just like, turns up fine later. Kinda dumb ngl.

Wtf I’m tearing up about Minfilia prime again... god...

Oh... OHHHH I understand what’s going on in this vision now! G’raha is reading Count Edmont’s book, and this roegadyn man is Bigg’s descendant... Huh, that’s funny. Two of the stories from Heavensward got muddled. A hero rides in astride a white dragon to save a little girl... The WoL riding into Ishgard on Midgardsormr, and Vidofnir saving the little girl. Fun detail.

?? Did Emet-Selch just SMILE at the WoL? His eyes crinkled. Do his eyes crinkle anywhere else??? Nobody else even saw that I think it might’ve been genuine, even if it’s just to see that the WoL hasn’t fallen apart yet. Like, he smiles in other places. There’s the mocking smiles, and the one last genuine but sad one near the end, but I can’t recall seeing one like that.

Ah. I think this is it. He’s explaining the Sundering.

I love this line and the delivery...

His logic makes sense. It IS relative, in this case. It of course doesn’t excuse the killing of millions and whatnot... it’s simply that the Ascians can’t accept things as they are now. A world without Zodiark is wrong. I wonder if they’d ever accept things as they are now if they weren’t tempered.

It’s silly that the game first explains the true nature of Ascians nowadays in some optional dialogue... the unsundered Ancients can raise fragments to become Ascians themselves, presumably anyone... though only fragments of the Convocation of Fourteen can rise to their respective office, through use of those... memory stones, or whatever they were. I’ll get back to that eventually.

Oh. You can also ask about Emet-Selch’s true name here, and there’s foreshadowing that you may one day learn... mannnnnnnnnn why do they have to kill him though??? The Hades fight is cool, though heart breaking. They bring back every other character, even Asahi to an extent for godsakes... The trailer, iirc, had a voice over from him so... maybe... maybe if we get more into the WoL being Azem... I dunno. I want to hope.

Ohhghhg I regret eating right before this bit with Vauthry downing... meol... ugghyhhh the noises this is awful I can feel my stomach turning :( That whole business... it’s not surprising the story moves past it quickly. Still funny though that they never outright acknowledge that all that was literally cannibalism.

Ah. AH!!!! There’s the line!!!!

So... he recognizes Azem even now. Huh. And what follows... he thinks the WoL would have liked it, Amaurot or however you spell it. He’s being... nice. Oh. That is... a sly proposition. He’s suggesting that the WoL just let things happen, that if they survive they’ll become whole. Of course Emet-Selch would want that, to have his friend back...

And now we come to the silliest plot point in the expansion. Really? Just make a giant Talos? Just like that? Even with an entire nation’s people working on it organizing everything and putting together the materials and all should take an eternity.

Duuuude I hate Mt. Gulg. Also this stupid audio effect they have on Vauthry, the echo is too much it hurts to try and understand what he’s saying, even with the text.

Ohhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy gooooooooooood G’raha’s deception is so bad but... it still hurts....... and Urianger... this is the most intense he sounds in the entire game... that “Do not interfere!”. G’raha!!!! You idiot!!!!! Gggghg. OH MY GOD THAT’S HIS RING HAND! HE’S REACHING TOWARDS HIM WITH THE HAND THAT BEARS HAURCHEFANT’S RING.... UNINTENTIONAL BUT GOOD!!!!!!! And finally his hood..... god.... I’m gonna cry again I can nbarely type./.... his inspiratyion...... and HIM EMET-SELCH!!!!!!!! GGGGGGGGGHGFHGH NO. THIS SUCKS SO BAD@!!!!

Ohhhhhh this story is evil. That it should be able to make you feel bad for disappointing Emet-Selch....... I mean it’s true. You weren’t strong enough, and others pay the price.

Seeing all of this... I wonder if Endwalker will attempt to top this level of relevance the WoL has. Suddenly... they are the existential threat. I mean again I suppose they could if they let the WoL take on Hydaelyn’s power as Zenos suggests. I do still hope that happens.

Ah... and again his ring hand to touch Ardbert..... cute... Hey wait why isn’t the WoL allowed to have any real heart to hearts with any of the Scions. Let them be friends :(

... ... wh. Why have they said the same thing? Emet-Selch says to the WoL before they depart, mocking how the world would react to the WoL’s affliction, “There is no hope. We are finished. Mankind is finished.” And. G’raha says this to Urianger once he arrives originally, to convey people’s reaction to the final calamity that befell the Source. I... suppose... Emet-Selch was watching? But that doesn’t make sense, they discuss other information here he doesn’t know. It’s just to draw a parallel, then? Oh. I see. G’raha then expounds on it and makes it something hopeful.

Oh also. It would have made infinitely more sense for it to have been one of Cid’s descendants to assist G’raha in traveling back in time. I can only assume that SE knows their fans well enough to know there would have been a crowd upset at what that implies with Cid, with how much they play around with the rivalry between him and Nero. Very funny thing to notice.

I can’t get out of my head what must have been the WoL’s original plan to reach Emet-Selch... take an Amaro over open water, then just dive in and swim around until the find him.

Ohhggh... I love Urianger his apology is so cute... he’ll stay by the WoL’s side for as along as he is able, if they’re willing to forgive or at least set aside their displeasure... even if they’re a danger to those around them...

Ohh and Alisaie!!!! This is why ShB is so good they actually CARE about the WoL it’s so nice... Oh right, and Urianger actually acknowledges their poorly thought out plan and thinks it’s silly. I don’t remember this from the first time, that swimming that far would probably make them die from exhaustion anyhow.

I saved this as a draft when my internet was being stupid hoping closing firefox would help. It did not. Anyways i came back to close this up and also note. I have been playing GNB terribly wrong for a while now. You’re granted a bonus damage ogcd after every move of your cartridge combo, not just the last one. I’m so stupid I thought it was like, an option of which one to use, but no. GNB is confusing, the combos are like... barely combos you can interrupt them to do whatever and return to them later. I’m looking at the optimal opener and i can feel my brain melting how the hell do I remember this??? I mean I don’t have to yet, I’m not at 80, but jfc. Idk if I’m ever gonna be able to raid like, properly lining up skills during battles sounds too difficult for me. I have a pea brain when actually fighting things case in point that one raid where it makes you do simple addition and division. It made me think 6+4 was 12. It’s hard enough for me as is to not let too many ogcds drift, at least not too bad...

Anyways. going to keep playing but I can wrap this up.

#mmorpg hell

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awesomehoggirl · 4 years

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it’s wip wednesday so i thought i’d share a quick writing wip from my multi chapter fem howince fic which will maybe be done in 20 years ! it’s got 8 chapters and i am still on chapter 2 if this gets finished it’ll be a miracle. the fic is called eau d’bedroom dancing because i love le tigre and imagine how fantastic riot grrl vince would be ...

mentioning before hand that i write all my first drafts and oneshots with no capitals because i find it a lot easier but with this fic when i go back over i’ll put capitals in :) (also this is a section from chapter one not the opening)

—

her name is vincenzia mirabella lucie-marié le manteau rafflesia vaisseau-spatial noire (the longest name in the class, and the only one never written up on the ‘star student!’ chalkboard) but everyone refers to her as vince. she’s new to the school, and seemingly england, but her accent is pure south london. two teachers have quit because of her already. holly moon has never been so interested in a person in her entire tiny life.

oh, she’s read up on musicians, heard their stories, wished ever so slightly that her life would someday be just as interesting — did you know nina simone had seven siblings, that john coltrane was in the navy? but the weirdness that seems to just bounce off vince’s tongue beats every story she’s ever read hands down.

it quickly becomes apparent that she’s borderline feral: if the staff-room murmurs of the teachers are to be believed, she came from a ‘neglectful home’; if vince’s own word is to be accepted, she was raised in the jungle by a cast of rock stars, animals and french nobility. holly is sensible enough to doubt her at first, but before long (and after many demonstrations of her ability to talk to animals) she’s genuinely on board. they sit behind the ash tree at lunch time, out of sight from dribbling boys and disapproving teachers, and holly figures out that through half a chocolate bar vince can be coaxed into revealing all sorts about her unorthodox childhood.

‘dunno why you’re so desperate to know about my life,’ vince complains once, when asked again to tell the story about the great order of frogs and the backwards waterfall. ‘why can’t i hear stories about you for a change?’

‘all in good time,’ says holly, whose mother is a tax attorney married to a geography teacher. ‘plus, i know you love the attention.’

and so vince sits there and talks until she goes hoarse, or loses interest, or feels like changing the subject right at a crucial moment, or the school bell rings and they have to go inside. she talks about her house made of bus tickets and her animal friends, her french duke uncle who would come down on bank holidays and teach her table manners, about joining the jackals for hunts, about skimming the treetops in the claws of squabbling vultures, about the hoots and screeches of the monkeys as they chased her through the undergrowth on the back of a hippopotamus. and holly will listen breathlessly, trying to seem nonplussed when in reality she is clinging to every last word. (tell me again about the paper-mache tiger and the rhinoceros’ game nights. tell me again again again.)

because no matter how hard her sensible brain tries, she really can’t prove them wrong. vince is hopeless at all forms of spelling or arithmetic. she is genuinely flabbergasted when explained to that, in fact, biting and shoving are not always seen as ‘playful’ in the human world. she swears like a sailor (or perhaps a rockstar) would, until the little old lady vicar gasps, snaps her bible shut and refuses to read to the year six class ever again. idioms are beyond her, let alone algebra, and the teachers insist there’s no hope — but they can’t help liking her, despite it all. there’s something so genuine about her ever-present toothy grin, her bubbly demeanour, that they soon allow her to get away with anything.

and yet holly is her best friend. and the only person (maybe in the world) vince will tell her stories to.

‘once upon a time,’ she begins one lunch break, dipping holly’s generous sacrifice of a curly wurly into her pocket for later, ‘i was out with jahooli the leopard, who was my best friend — he’d give me rides on his back when i was really small, swattin’ the bloodsuckers away with his giant tail. he’d catch me fish in his big strong jaws, crush ‘em up so i could eat ‘em right, i was just a nipper, i’d not got all my teeth in yet, but he was a right sweetheart about that sort of thing. on the surface jahooli always seemed to be a reckless character, a real rough-and-tumble kind of cat, but i knew the reality: he’d lost his mate and his litter and he was gettin’ on a bit, i was all he had left in terms of fatherhood. it meant he did get a bit invasive at times, yeah, he could be real clingy. i didn’t mind though, see, i’m wise beyond my years, so i was quite good with all that stuff, i let him vent to me when it all got a bit too much for his poor leopard heart to handle. anyway, this one day he was lookin’ after me, on account of my foster father bryan ferry being away on tour. and it was a hot afternoon, this one. really hot.’ she sinks down on her heels. ‘the kinda hot that drenches you in sweat no matter how still you stand. the kinda humid that makes your palms slick and your eyelashes heavy. most of the animals were tucked away underground by midday, but the bigger sorts like me and jahooli, we couldn’t exactly join them. so jahooli said, why don’t we make our way down to the river?’

holly feels her spine prickle. it is eerie, the way her friend’s stories pull her in.

she follows vince along to said river, feels jahooli’s long speckled tail curling round her shoulders, bumping against her collarbones, keeping her close. feels the slick wetness of the air, feels the burn of her lungs as they work in shallow pumping gasps. breathes in the hot dark of the bush, the low chatter of the canopy. soon the lumbering gait of the leopard slows, the river is in sight — the banks are busy with boars, bucks and buffalo, sunning lizards and mice. slow-blinking crocodiles cruise in the shallows. vince is not afraid of them. (holly would be.)

‘is it true if you’re being chased by a crocodile you should run in a zig-zag pattern?’ she interrupts (not because the story is getting a little too tense for her or anything).

vince rolls her eyes, makes a face as if holly has asked her the stupidest question in the world (considering just yesterday she asked holly whether all numbers bite or if the three digit ones are just especially fiesty, they clearly have different opinions on what counts as a ‘stupid question’). ‘if a crocodile were to haul its fat arse out of the nice cool water just to give you a bit of trouble, you probably did something awful to deserve it. why? are you plannin’ to go pokin’ sticks at ‘em? cause if you are, insult their music taste, they’ll go absolutely mental. most crocodiles are obsessed with alice cooper, so there’s a good starting point, have that one on me.’

‘so what’s—‘

‘oi, hush! do you want this story or not?’

holly shuts up. vince lowers her voice.

the jungle is sweaty now, the riverbanks a dripping piccadilly circus. jahooli has left vince’s side, gone to make conversation with ranbir the great panther, so she ventures alone to the water’s edge (the animals watch over her, they all like her, tiny and pink and strange as she is) and dips her feet in. the water is so clear and cold it hurts, but soon the pain ebbs and gives way to a calm coolness. she sits down, slides in up to her knees, lies back against the soft mud

the jungle is treacle now, bubbling and pooling, thick. vince soon drifts off and the leaves behind her eyelids are red. the stars are wheeling gulls, the air is thick with salt-spit, her eyelashes tangle and she slips down into the mud. somewhere else, the dulcet waves begin to lap. the elephants have arrived. jahooli and ranbir share a look before they approach, hackles raised (they are not mean-spirited creatures, but they do like to play a prank).

the jungle is long gone now, and vince dreams of strawberry ice cream. somewhere else, jahooli and ranbir wind around each other dizzyingly, teeth flashing slick and sharp. somewhere else, the elephants are fussing, distressed by their feline dance, their ashy trunks whirling as they back up their feet. pelts twist and brush together before the big-cats turn, open their jaws and let out a combined roar that wakes vince, sends animals scattering, splits the sky in two —

and the jungle rumbles. and the elephants charge.

#this is such a weird section for me to use as a teaser LMAOO im so sorry #vince noir #howard moon #howince #wip wednesday #primmy writes #the mighty boosh

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randomfandomfamily · 5 years

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So this is a post about what I think might happen during the sequel to the Sonic Movie.

This started out as a few thoughts , turned into a lot of ideas, and eventually manifested into… whatever this is.

Look, I have exactly zero self-control, and hyperfixation is an absolute monster at this time of all the time. So like… oops, I guess? Enjoy? Maybe? I dunno. Just gonna yeet this out there and scoot.

Warning: This is a really long friggin’ post. How long? Nearly 3,000 words of pure hyperfocused writing long. I would say I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’d believe me if I did.

I know everyone is freakin’ hyped that Sonic is going to have a pal for the sequel. If past incarnations tell us anything, it’s that Sonic and Tails are 100% going to click, no problem. And I don’t doubt that is exactly what’s gonna happen this round too.

But here’s the thing. The premise for pretty much all of Sonic and Tails’ meeting before now has been Tails looking up to Sonic and Sonic deciding he’s gonna look out for Tails. They see each other as total equals, of course, but a lot of it stems from Sonic’s confidence in his abilities. Tails admires him for it, and Sonic knows he can keep Tails safe because of it. It gives Tails more confidence in himself. And that gives Sonic more confidence in Tails. They give each other the confidence and reassurance that they need.

This Sonic? This Sonic is a child. And he’s pretty much always been a child, a teen of fifteen in most cases, but we rarely see any incarnation of Sonic acting like a child. He’s usually just saving the world, and when he’s not doing that, he’s saving the world again. But the Sonic in the movie genuinely loves being a kid. And confidence in his abilities? Not so much. He used them once on purpose, and only after he had nearly died.

He’s not the usual thrill-seeking, needs to constantly be on the move, adrenaline junkie that we’re used to. He lives in house. In a small town. With friendly people and no one to fight (anymore). And he likes it that way.

Because of this, the set-up for Tails and Sonic’s relationship is going to have to be different. It’s most likely going to rely a lot on Sonic just being excited to see someone from his home planet. He might not question how Tails knows him. He might not question how Tails found him. He might not question anything at all.

The first movie taught Sonic that he absolutely does not have to be alone in life. It is, in fact, the worst way to live your life. He learns that it’s okay to rely on people, and he didn’t have to do this alone. The first movie taught him trust.

Sonic relied on blind trust in the first movie and it worked out. He trusted Tom. And in true Donut Lord fashion, Tom not only helped, but he and Maddie had pretty much adopted Sonic by the end of the movie.

Tails comes along. A resident of Sonic’s old home. Tails is nice, crazy smart, seems super interested in his powers, and also doesn’t want to kill his parents. Great! Immediate trust for Tails, too.

Now like I mentioned it before in another post, but I’m willing to bet that Tails found out about Sonic through the Echidnas. Though I’m also willing to bet that it was one specific Echidna that told him.

Gonna intervene on the Sonic/Tails analysis to bring you some unscheduled Knuckles. In all of Knuckles’ lore, he is the last known Echidna. Now they might throw that specific part of his history out for this incarnation, but it’d be interesting if they kept it.

Super Sonic was nearly a part of the movie, but they decided the main focus of the movie should be Sonic the character, not Sonic the classic hero archetype. That doesn’t mean Super Sonic will never be introduced, it could still happen. The thing is, that requires Chaos Emeralds. And who was known for his connection to those? Exactly.

Y’all wanna see somethin’ neat?

We gotta map with eight planets on it and something that looks nearly identical to a Chaos Emerald in the corner. Rings are used by advanced civilizations, and Earth ain’t one of them. Ta-da. Seven planets. Seven Chaos Emeralds. And that that circle in the middle looks like a great place for a Master Emerald, doesn’t it?

‘Wait a minute’, I hear you protest, ‘the mushroom planet is uninhabited! Why would a Chaos Emerald be there?’

Sure it’s uninhabited. You know, unless it isn’t. What proof do we have that it is? Because Sonic said it was? Because he opened up a portal, looked through it, and saw nothing?

Look, Robotnik is a brilliant scientist, I’ll give him that, but no way in New Heckistan is he going to find a way to find a way home with mushrooms alone.

But say he stumbles across a poor soul who’s trying to protect one of the seven most powerful gems in existence. Say he steals that gem and uses it to find a way back (as a mad scientist do). Maybe he even stole the set of rings that the poor unfortunate soul had. After all, there were six more gems to find. Why settle for 1/7 of the power when you could have it all?

How long has Sonic been with Tom and Maddie now? Long enough for him to be enrolled in school? Long enough for them to fix the house and start repainting? Long enough, perhaps, for a mad scientist to start fixing the remnants of his busted ship and power it with an alien source? I mean, probably. He is pretty smart.

Actually, hang on. Maybe the planet is uninhabited as far as living creatures go, but isn’t Eggman (Robotnik’s nickname from Sonic) known for having two robot assitants? That’d be an interesting way to introduce them. And they’d know the other planets, and could open the portals.

So perhaps Robotnik finds a planet with another Chaos Emerald ripe for the picking. It’s protected by, oh let’s say… a tribe of Echidnas? All sworn to protect one thing. The thing he wants. They put up a fight, of course they do, but they don’t know who they’re up against.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s one left behind. Knuckles. Who had heard tales of a being that could harness the power of the Chaos Emeralds. His tribe had tried hunting him down years ago in fear that he might steal the power for evil. They had failed. Thankfully. Because it looked that being they tried to hunt down was going to be their only chance of stopping the psycho with the mustache.

So Knuckles confides in a local inventor that he knows. A clever little Fox named Miles Prower. He tells Miles that there is someone that could help them, but it was going to be difficult to find them.

If I’m right, and Tails did find out about Sonic through Knuckles, that explains his timing. If he was just tracking Sonic’s power, he could have found Sonic after the incident at the baseball field. But he needed a reason to find Sonic, and a scientist destroying a tribe of people for a gem seems like a good reason. Might also explain why he’s hoping he’s not too late. Who knows how long it would take Robotnik to find the other Chaos Emeralds? They had to get to them first.

Sonic meets Miles, nicknames him Tails, and they hit it off immediately. Sonic is more than willing to help Tails track down the rest of these things. No way in hell Tom and Maddie are letting him go alone, so they’re coming too.

Tails doesn’t think to mention that it was an Echidna that told him about Sonic. Tom and Maddie are kind of suspicious about it at first (I thought no one else knew about him? Who is this guy and how does he know?) but Tails seems like a good kid and Sonic trusts him.

They find the first Chaos Emerald (there are probably many shenanigans that ensue, but I don’t know what the other planets are like so I can’t predict them). No one really knows what they should do with it. Keep it with them? But what if they’re confronted by Robotnik and he takes it somehow?

So Tails tell them that a friend of his back on the island that could watch over it. Robotnik wouldn’t think to go back there because he already attacked it once. That seems like a solid plan, so they go back. Sonic is thrilled to be back. Everything looks the same as it did. Except for… that part. That part looks like a warzone.

Now, why is Knuckles not part of this mission too? Not sure. Maybe he’s injured after the fight. It’s very probable that he would be. So he’s injured, grieving, worried sick about the eight year old he just sent looking for the one person that can stop Robotnik.

He’s relieved when he sees Tails with a hedgehog, who he correctly assumes is the being who can control the Emeralds’ power. He’s even relieved to see the two humans. At least someone is looking out for the kid since he’s not able to.

You know who’s not thrilled? I’ll give you three guesses, and the first two don’t count.

The phrase ‘eyes glowing with rage’ is all too literal when it comes to Sonic. And he looks ready to explode on the spot. He immediately accuses Tails of betraying him, leading him to the people that killed the only person on the island that cared about him. He even throws in a spiteful ‘Miles’ because the name ‘Tails’ was only for friends.

Tails and Knuckles don’t have time to explain before Sonic takes off like a bullet. He’s out of sight in milliseconds, but you could hear the electric energy from a mile away.

Tom and Maddie decide to hear them out, because they obviously did need their help with Robotnik on the loose. Tails explains that Knuckles is the last of his kind and really isn’t much older than Sonic. He had nothing to do with what happened to Longclaw.

So Tom offers to go talk to Sonic (huzzah for fatherly life lessons), and Maddie offers to help fix up Knuckles as best as she can. Being a vet paid off in the weirdest ways sometimes.

While Tom explains what actually happened and that no one betrayed anyone, Knuckles and Tails have reluctantly opened up to Maddie.

Knuckles has been trying to keep up that rough and tumble attitude we know and love, but it’s kinda breaking down with this nice human wrapping his arm with the bandages she brought (because of course she brought bandages, she’s a vet and a mother) and asking if he was okay. He was not okay.

And Tails… well, where was Tails’ family? Did they know where he was? Any friends he could think of that might be able to help them? That ends in a solemn silence. Tails is family-less too, and his inventions aren’t always well received on an island that is almost completely organic. There was a very kind Rabbit mother and daughter that checked on him from time to time, but other than that? He was on his own.

Maddie makes a mental note to tell Tom that they’re adopting two more alien children and no it’s not up for discussion, they’re doing it (not that Tom would have argued with her anyway).

Tom returns with Sonic, who apologizes for accusing them of betrayal and murder. That’s when he and Knuckles finally realize they’re about the same age. (I’m gonna guesstimate Knuckles’ age at around 15/16). It’s baffling to the both of them.

When Knuckles heard about the powerful being his people had hunted, he had expected… not a teenager. And worse, it happened a decade ago.His people had hunted down a toddler and, apparently, killed his parent. He was a little more understanding of Sonic’s anger.

As for Sonic, Echidnas were pretty much cold-blooded murderers to him. He had never stopped to consider that there were also, you know, kids. And this kid had just lost… everything. He instantly feels terrible about his outburst. This guy didn’t even know who Longclaw was, much less what had happened to her.

But, emotional breakthroughs aside, they still have a huge problem and his name is Eggman. Or Robotnik. It really depended on who you asked. Either way, they needed to figure out which planet Robotnik was going to be at next. They decide to just collect the Chaos Emeralds they could and worry about Robotnik later.

Sonic gives Knuckles his set of rings, just in case. They have Tails’ so they should be fine. Off to the next planet to find an Emerald. It becomes clear that they’re gonna need a more efficient way of doing this, so Tails modifies the tracker he made for Sonic to track the Emerald’s energy instead.

It works, obviously, because Tails is a precious little genius. But no one stopped to consider how the mad scientist was finding the Chaos Emeralds. It makes sense that he would find a way to track their energy by using the one he found on the mushroom planet, but nobody thinks about that until Tails finds a way to do it.

Then they remember they just left Knuckles alone with a Chaos Emerald. They open up a portal to get him, but Robotnik is already there with a monologue about how how stupid they all were for assuming he wouldn’t return to this planet, he was the smartest individual, not just on Earth, but in the entire universe, and blah blah blah, psycho scientist banter, he’s Jim Carey and his blood is made of cocaine, you get the picture.

Cue rescue sequence for the resident Echidna of the group. They manage to get Knuckles and the Emerald away from the crazy doc, maybe even steal the ones that Robotnik has, Perhaps we even get a heartfelt response from Sonic because ‘you idiot why didn’t use the rings to escape, I told you to use them, we are not losing anyone else to this fight’.

And not to bring us to an abrupt halt right there, but as I’ve said earlier, we’ve got no idea what the other planets are like, so I can’t make any solid predictions. Though I guess you can’t call anything about this solid. It’s literally all speculation.

But, you know, they get the seven Emeralds somehow because teamwork. There’s probably a bunch of cool aliens to meet, some Chao maybe? That’d be rad. And, of course, tons of fight scenes because that’s what the Eggman vs. Sonic thing is all about. Who wins: A ex-government hired genius fueled by spite and pure rage or one Spikey Child and his Fam?

I’m thinking the final fight would have to take place one that circle in the middle, which I’ve already speculated could be a possible location for the Master Emerald. And that fight would. be. dope. I mean, it’s Super Sonic, for cryin’ out sideways!

Since the good guys always win the fights, Sonic and crew win. They probably wouldn’t kill him. Why would they? They’re the good guys. Knuckles very seriously considers it though. Like, Tom kinda puts a hand on his shoulder just to make sure he doesn’t because homeboy looks like he wants to shank the local nutcase, not that anyone blames him.

(this also serves a purpose for something else that always bugs me about Knuckles’ character, which is that he is very gullible when it come to Eggman, we see it all over the place with him. a scenario like this? eradicates that odd quirk in his personality without erasing any of his other good qualities. harmless pranks? sure, gullible as all get out. Tails and Sonic could even prank him at the end of the movie, and that’d be just the sweetest thing. but when it comes to Eggman? hell nah. nah nah nah, get that outta here.)

So they beat Eggman, maybe yeet him back to mushroom planet again–this time without any kind of tech. No ship for you, Eggy-Boy.

Then it’s time to go home. Here’s where it could go two different ways. Tails is going with Sonic, that seems pretty obvious at this point, and Knuckles could go back to Earth with them too if he wanted.

I don’t think he would, though. Being Guardian of the Master Emerald is an integral part to Knuckles’ character. And while, yes I would love to see him hanging out with Sonic and Tails more, I think this is something that will have to stay part of his history.

But if you think they aren’t inviting him over for Movie Night you are mistaken, sir. Knuckles is always invited to Movie Night. He doesn’t always accept, and that’s okay. They visit him too, just to see how he’s doing.

Sonic taught Knuckles and Tails to floss and that is a vital part of the sequel, shut up, yes it is.

And viola! Sequel! Oh, but of course we need a post-credit scene, don’t we? See Sonic being around the age of thirteen does have its benefits.

Because you see, that means we can give him two years of peace with Tails and his parents before before he’s fifteen, the age most Sonic incarnations seem to stick with.

Fifteen is old enough for a rival, right? Teenagers, you know what I mean.

And I’m not saying that Robotnik had the technology to replicate DNA and modify it, but I am saying… that he probably has that kind of tech laying around somewhere.

The government seems to fund the science department pretty well. And there’s a certain individual who followed Dr Robotnik around for a while, learning all his tricks. Mmmmmmmmmm-hmmmm. Agent Stone.

And I’m not saying Agent Stone is evil….

I’m saying:

What if Agent Stone created Shadow?

*aaaaaaand fade to black*

Now, if you made it this far… wow. Thank you! Like, seriously, holy shit. This was so long. I appreciate you for sticking it out with me. It took… a while to write. I don’t wanna admit the actual amount of time it took. But really, thank you for giving this a read.

#sonic the hedgehog the movie #sonic the movie #sonic the hedgehog #just #i don't have an explanation #this isn't even the first sequel i've written #it's rise of the guardians all over again #what am i supposed to do with these #they're just existing here on Tumblr #with no purpose #essentially useless #just like the dumbass that wrote 'em #idk what i'm doing #someone halp

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maddiefriendlovesbilly · 5 years

Note

can you do a ship prompt for polypie but like mission goes super wrong and one actually dies for like real and,,, sadnesss

(First of all, I just wanna apologize to anon for how long this took?? I kept forgetting to take my medicine because I was off my medicine,,,It literally only took a few hours to write I was just too busy procrastinating and being gay (also adhd but shh.))

The Asylum Case

Rating: PG-13, SFW

Ship: Poly P.I.E. (Ghost/Toast/Spooker/Colon)

Warnings: Lots of angst, Major Character Death, Descriptions of intense pain, Sadness >:3 (Tell me if I missed anything!)

Summary: Ghost recounts exactly how he got into his current predicament, which is dying.

Word Count: 1,829

They’re approximately 30 minutes into the investigation when everything, in Ghost’s humble opinion, goes to shit. “But every P.I.E. investigation goes to shit!” you say. Yes, that is, in fact, true, but Ghost has decided that bleeding out on the floor - very slowly, might he add, which is decidedly not fun - constitutes the creation of a new category of “gone to shit”. “But,” you say, “Why not just respawn?” and again, usually, Ghost would do just that - but there’s just one issue; he can’t. Let’s rewind.

They entered the decrepit asylum, joking and teasing and generally enjoying each other’s company - unsuspecting of the horrors yet to come. Once they were inside, the ghost wasted no time in introducing itself; it screamed its sob-story from nowhere in particular, voice bouncing off the walls and echoing down each corridor, all lined with empty cells. Ghost thought he heard sobbing from the one beside him, and so, using the keys the caretaker - who had been the one to call them to investigate, and who looked about as old and decrepit as the asylum - had given him, unlocked the door and (ignoring the disapproving sigh from Toast, and the alarmed yelps from the other two) entered. A girl sat huddled in the corner, long, matted, black hair cascading over her small form, blocking her face. Her tattered white dress hung loosely, and one sleeve slid from her small trembling shoulder as he approached and knelt down. A familiar dread washed over Ghost as he gently asked, “K-Katrina?”

Abruptly, the girl stopped shaking, before giggling once, twice, and then, neck cracking violently, her head shot up and she stared into his eyes with a wide, manic smile. He edged away, wondering why the others hadn’t entered, hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even made a sound since he’d approached Katrina, but he couldn’t look back, not now, because when he stumbled to his feet, backing away, she followed, neck craning oddly to one side. “Katrina-” he started, pleading, “Kat, hey, it’s me, Johnny! Remember?” He fumbled for the door handle, careening into the hall when it opened. No one else was there.

“Yessssss,” Katrina hissed, drawling, “I remember youuuu…” but she didn’t slow her advance; instead, she just kept hurtling towards him. As he ducked beneath a wild swing of her claw, he glimpsed it - the small, red, rope-pattern lines wrapping around her neck, exposed by its unnatural angle - and choked back a sob. “God, Kat, I’m sorry - I’m so sorry!” he heard himself plead. She didn’t seem to hear him, only muttered, “Johnny, Johnny, I remember, yes I remember Johnny. Johnny!” and took another swing. He scrambled back, gritting his teeth when a razor nail clipped his shoulder, and Katrina’s crazed grin widened. Something inside Ghost twitched at the sight, but he pushed it down, he didn’t have time to panic. “Toast?” he called as he scrambled down the empty hallways, “Spook? Colon?!”

No one answered, and Ghost felt his heart sink.

He fumbled with the keyring, detached it from his belt loop - which proved to be much more difficult while his hands shook violently - and jammed a key into the first lock he came across, throwing open the cell door and slamming it behind him, locking it back.

The old door’s hinges creaked dangerously with the force of Katrina’s hands slamming against it, and Johnny could only pray they didn’t give out under the stress. Slowly, the banging subsided and, hand over heart, he sighed in relief. Pulling out his phone, he hit Toast’s contact, and pulled the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. It clicked, and Toast’s blurted in a near-shout, “Sir, where the fuck are you?!” in the background he heard a short hysterical laugh, and Ghost felt one of his own bubble out past the tightness in his chest and the burning in his shoulder. “Just getting chased by a murderous vision from the past - you know, the usual.”

“Are you injured?”

“She nicked me, but its nothing serious.”

“Don’t do anything dangerous,” Spooker said in the background, “A ghost said we can’t respawn here and we don’t want to chance them being right.”

“Where are you, Sir? We’ll come find you.”

“Er,” Ghost muttered, trying to recall where he was, “I’m in a locked cell right now, not sure what floor - I think it’s B-hall though, so first floor probably,” he paused, putting on a cheery, guide-like voice, “Just follow the sounds of screeching and growling, and you should see a crazy lady pacing outside the door,” he said peeking through the small, barred window. Katrina spotted him and slammed a palm against the door, snarling. “take a sharp turn there and - remember this step because it is crucial okay? - sock her right in the face.”

Toast barked out a sharp, brittle laugh, “We’ll do our best.”

“I’ll see you in a few, I’m gonna hang up now because I don’t want to attract too much attention - these ancient hinges don’t exactly appreciate the abuse we’re putting them through.”

“Alright Sir, be careful.”

And careful he was, but you can’t exactly count on ghosts to obey the laws of physics, or even manners, really, because out of the blue, there was the caretaker, and boy did he look smug. “What a lovely reunion between old friends,” he croaked, “It’s almost enough to warm my cold, dead heart!” then cackled wildly. When Ghost didn’t so much as blink in surprise, he sobered, snapping at him, “Why aren’t you surprised? Everything went perfectly, none of you suspected a thing!”

“Dude, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I hunt ghosts for a living; this plot-twist happens every other week.”

“Damn! Well, either way, you’re gonna die here, so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Dead men tell no tales and all that.”

“Again, hate to do this, but literally every case a ghost says something along the lines of “Ohohoho you’re gonna die anyway, so it doesn’t really matter!” and here I am, alive and only slightly harmed.” Another bang reverberated around the room, and Ghost shuffled uncomfortably but couldn’t look away from the immediate threat.

“Oh, uh, exactly how many cases have you done?”

“Dunno,” Ghost shoved his hands into his pockets, “I’ve been doing this since I was like, sixteen, and our schedule’s kinda all over the place because you can’t really predict when a ghost is gonna show up, but we get at least three to seven cases a week, and about half of them are real.” Another slam, followed by creaking and a final loud rattling sound.

“Huh, half, really?”

“Yeah, people are stupid.”

“Agreed. Speaking of stupid, you let your guard down.”

“Oh.” Things seemed to slow down, a sharp pain stabbing through his back. He looked down, watching three claw-like fingers withdraw from his chest, leaving three little holes all the way through. He collapsed, head falling to the side as he coughed wetly, tasting iron. Almost calmly, he watched as blood pooled around him, before glancing up to the doorway, where the door had been ripped open, and now teetered ominously on its hinges. Katrina loomed over him, blood coating her claws.

And that’s it, that’s how he got here. Seconds later, he hears someone shout his name, and he feels the caretaker’s presence vanish. Katrina glances back, but it doesn’t give her enough time to react before a bullet rips through her solid form, followed by another, then another. She screeches and stumbles back, blindly tripping over the lump of Ghost while trying to shield herself from the incoming bullets. He groans as she falls over him, kicking his wounds. The puddle beneath him ripples, blood traveling in tiny rivers through the imperfections in the concrete floor. Absently, Ghost notes that his sight has gone fuzzy at the edges, and black static is creeping in. Katrina lets out one last screech before disappearing, and as soon as she’s gone Toast, Spooker, and Colon all rush to his side. He smiles weakly as Colon pulls his head into his lap, eyes watery. The other two looked similarly panicked, and Ghost finds himself wheezing, “Hey, it’s really not that bad, okay? You guys can just carry me out of here and I can respawn.” Blood bubbles in his throat as he speaks, and he has to turn to the side to cough it up when it scratches at his throat.

The others glance at each other and Ghost frowns, confused. “What?”

“If we moved you now,” Spooker explains, chewing his lip, “you’d probably die of blood loss before we got outside. And I’m not a doctor but I’m pretty sure you have a punctured lung.”

Ghost’s brows furrow and he laughs sadly. “Sucks to be me I guess…” he ignores the liquid gathering in the back of his mouth, swallowing. “Anybody here magically know first aid?”

They all grimace, shaking their heads. “Ah, well, worth a shot,” he rasps. He feels a tear drip down, catching on his jaw. His chest burns; a hot-cold sensation that tears through him every time he breathes. He can’t focus his eyes anymore, but he looks at the blurry figures he knows are his closest companions - the loves of his life - and smiles, even as more tears follow and he chokes down a gasp of pain. Someone’s holding his face and speaking to him gently, and he can’t understand the words, but he thinks it might be Colon, so he looks up at him. At the same time as a pair of lips meet his temple, and then again and again, until he’s being peppered with kisses. He can feel the body under him shaking now, and through the white-hot burning and the growing ringing in his ears, he makes out stammered apologies and ‘I-love-you’s, and he feels it aching in his bones because it’s not their fault, he did this, and he wishes all the way down to his core that he could go back, that he could undo the pain he knows paints their faces, but he can’t - he’s going to die here, slowly, painfully. The ringing is piercing now and the black static has spread to cover most of his vision, and he thinks he might be screaming, or apologizing, saying goodbye, but he can’t hear anything over the ringing so it’s possible that when he tries to tell them “I love you too” it comes out garbled and incomprehensible. His throat is raw now so he must be screaming, and it’s all so loud until suddenly everything stops.

There’s no ringing, or panic, or crying, or pain. Just empty blackness and total silence. He can’t move, because there’s nowhere to go, there’s nothing here, there’s only void. That is, until the sound of a single raindrop, followed by another, then another, breaks the silence, and like waking up, Ghost blinks, and finds himself standing in front of a grave.

#jess writes #jess answers #venturiantale #johnny ghost #johnny toast #fred spooker #chris colon ghostie #venturiantale pie

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andersoncharm · 5 years

Text

Skype “Date” with Sam//March 27, 2020

Para: Skype “Date” with Sam.

Rating: PG.

Pairing: Blam BFFs. Mentions of Seblaine.

When: Friday Afternoon- March 27, 2020

Location: LeFay University(Boston)/Tokyo, Japan (Shibuya to be exact.)

Notes: A short self para where Sam teases Blaine over Skype and gets him thinking about things.

Warnings: Talks of futures and weddings and children.

“Sooo. When’s the wedding?”

Blaine jerked his head up from his text from Sebastian and focused his confused gaze on his best friend, Sam Evans. Sam was smiling, a goofy, big and toothy thing made sillier by the fact that Sam looked like Marvel’s Thor had wandered into a country western store. His blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail to display the weird mustache his oldest and best had decided suited him for his stay in Japan. Before Blaine could ask him what he was on about, Sam spoke up. “I mean you can hardly take your eyes off your phone. Dude, you should see your gross mushy, lovey dovey face. Like, get married already.” Blaine ducked his head sheepishly, shooting Sebastian an I'll see you in a few text, making sure to tell him he loved him before shoving his phone into his pocket so he wouldn’t be distracted.

“Sorry, Sam.” He mumbled and even though Sam was smiling and his tone was good natured and teasing, Blaine still felt bad. He and Sam never got to see each other face to face. It’d been going on three years since they were last in the same country and Skyping was a rarity. The whole reason for the call was to figure out the details for Sam’s trip back to America (Sam still didn’t know the month, let alone what day he’d be here) and all they’d managed to do was tease each other. “But, to be fair, I totally saw the mushy, lovey dovey eyes you gave Yume when she walked in not five minutes ago so I guess I’ll be waiting for my invitation to your wedding.” he rolled his eyes, trying not to smile as he adjusted his screen.

Sam, to his credit just shrugged. “We’d be the hottest husband and wife around. She’s the coolest person I know, next to me and then maybe you anyway. She’s like my other best friend, so it wouldn’t even be much of a change. Anyway, how are you, how’s the boyfriend besides sending you texts when it’s my turn to talk to you, Blainers.” Sam paused pursed his lips and rolled his eyes for dramatics at that statement. Blaine laughed and shook his head at the terrible nickname.

“I’m good, Sam. We’re both good. And it’s my fault. I messaged him first. Plus, you called me about an hour earlier than you said you were going to, remember?” The banter went on for another hour. They talked about Blaine’s dad and if it was weird to be taught by his parent. They talked about Sam’s anime drawings and his cool girlfriend and how they were getting on living together in the smallest apartment known to man. What it was like to live in Shibuya and if Sam missed living in America. All things they could talk about in text but, it was the next best thing to having Sam with him and it made Blaine feel good. And it was much needed. Sam was a reminder that they’d both gone through a lot (Blaine with his mom and Sam with his family's financial struggles) and both of them had come out good people at the end of the day. The conversation was finally directed to the visit when Sam’s brain somehow took him a completely different direction. As it always did. It was like he was on a loop and had looped back around.

“But, like, you do want to marry him, right? He’s like your world. And, I mean the next step is to live together, duh, but then you could ask him to marry you and that would be super cool. And then you could adopt a kid, or whatever two dudes do, I dunno, and you could name the kid after your best friend Sam. I’d even be cool with his middle name being David after your other, less best friend, David. And then you raise that kid and one day that kid has a kid and you two become grandparents and then you’re old together and happy and bam! That’s life, right? It’s, what do you say all the time? Romantic. And if I know you, and I totally do, so, I know you love romance. What’s stopping you two?”

“Wow. This is not what I thought we’d be talking about tonight.” Blaine smiled, shaking his head, his laugh light in his throat as he listened to Sam talk about what he thought the cycle of life should be for him. He tried not to visibly cringe at the name Sam David. But, he had to admit the rest of what Sam was saying sounded nice and admitting that to himself hurt a little. He hesitated, not sure how to approach this. Blaine’s life with Sebastian was all about the now. Sure they planned ahead like normal people but, who knew what would happen in a month, two months or two years from now. His intuition told him him and Sebastian were safe from the Council and Order for the time being but, for how long? Not long enough for Blaine to let himself really want either of these things too much anyway. Sometimes planning for the far future just hurt so he usually tried to avoid it.

“It’s just that when Seb and I first met he told me he couldn’t see himself getting married or having children. And I don’t know, I’m not even sure that’s what I really want. I mean, maybe, but, I’m just happy being with him now, you know?” He bit his lip, in thought, before giving his friend a smile. “Besides, I don’t have to marry him to love him like I do.”

And it was all true. Seb did tell him when they were first dating that he wasn’t into either thing. But, Blaine had been with him going on two years now and he could sense a change. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t ready to admit any of that to even himself. But, if Blaine asked him to marry him in a year, something in his heart told him that Seb would say yes. That it would please him. He wasn’t sure about the whole children thing. It was something Blaine didn’t even know that he might want until he met Sebastian and they had gotten the chance to grow together. But now he could almost picture their life ten years down the road and sometimes it involved little feet and big, candy sticky grins. But, the vision always went hazy and Blaine would always lose the fantasy before he could take it too far. He meant what he said to Sam though. He didn’t need to marry or have children to love Sebastian. He’d be happy and content to get to just be with him and love the rest of his life.

Sam’s confused and unsure face at his explanation upset him a little. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew when Blaine wasn’t being entirely honest. This would be so much easier if Blaine could really talk to Sam. Really tell him why he didn’t know if he and Sebastian could have those things. As long as they’d been friends, he’d struggled with this, now, it was worse than ever. A part of him thought Sam might actually know, his best friend was smart like that. He thought differently than most people, his busy, labyrinth brain would slowly work things out and it wouldn’t surprise Blaine a bit if he kinda knew. Sam said weird things sometimes. Comparing him to this comic book character or that. And he used to catch Sam studying him like he was waiting for him to do something magical. But, Blaine couldn’t tell him and Sam wasn’t offering up any information if he did suspect anything so he kept on their friendship like he always did.

“Oh, by the way.” Blaine perked up, attempting to use Sam and David’s friendly rival to appease his friend. “It’s very big of you to share the name of an imaginary Smythe-Anderson baby with David. I know how big the unnecessary competition with you and him is.” He laughed as Sam launched into a whole tirade on why he was the better friend. (He’d been around longer and through more with Blaine. Duh.)

An hour later they had to hang up the Skype session for the time being and Sam still hadn’t decided when he’d be coming back to America. The only take away from the whole conversation was that Sam would make the best Best Man and David would have to be the Ring Bearer in this imaginary wedding that Sam had concocted out of thin air. Sebastian wasn’t close to admitting that he might want to get married one day, and neither was Blaine but he couldn’t help but smile to himself, wondering if Blaine Devon Smythe-Anderson was too much of a mouthful while ignoring the pointed look Freya was giving him as he got ready for a night with his boyfriend and the hot topic of his whole Skype session. He tried to ignore the little nagging feeling that he shouldn’t even entertain the thought because it would only lead to pain. It pulsed through him almost as if mocking him, telling him the High Witch Council wouldn’t let them go that far. But, he pushed it down because he was happy and in love and had gotten to talk to and see his best friend for hours and they couldn't take away how he felt. At least not tonight.

/fin

#blam skype #blam bros #sam and blaine #self para #seblaine #seblaine witch rp

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motleyfuckingcruee · 5 years

Text

Rocket Queen

0.7: Unwanted Apology

Henley's P.O.V

It's been two days since that hectic night. Madeline and I managed to get home just before sunrise with the help of Duff and Steven. Luckily, they had a car and offered to give us a lift. Honestly, I don't know how it would've went if they hadn't gave us a ride.

Apparently, Steven gave Madeline his number. She's been calling him nonstop. The only reason I know that is because Jake calls me and complains about it.

"I don't know who she's talking to but it's getting annoying!" Jake told me last night.

I just laughed at him and told him to go to bed. We had school today, so yay. A fucking Monday. To be completely honest, I forgot about the threat that Hyde imposes.

That was, until Hyde came up to me after school, knocking me out of my thoughts from the past few days.

"Hello, Henley," Hyde says, venom in his voice.

I turn around, seeing how bad Hyde's face looks. I cringe at the sight. His face is swollen and purple with bruises everywhere. Damn, Duff sure did do a number on him.

"Hey," I say nervously. God, what does he want with me?

"I haven't seen you since the other night," He says, leaning against the locker behind him. "Tell me, how's your lover boy?"

I blush as I realize he's talking about Duff. His hazel eyes pop into my mind. I really want to see him again. "Uh, he's fine. You gave him a good scratch on his head."

Hyde laughs. "Good. The fucker deserved it."

I try my best to not let my anger flare up. "Duff didn't deserve any of that. I did. It was my fault. Besides, you right about all of it anyway."

Hyde huffs, looking down at his feet. "No I wasn't. I was already drunk and took out the frustration I had on you. You were right about Stephanie. I don't know why I went out with her anyway."

I laugh. "Cause you were lonely?"

"That had to have been it," He responds.

We both laugh for a few moments before growing quiet again.

"I actually came over here to apologize."

I sigh, looking at him skeptically. "I dunno, Hyde."

"I didn't mean any of that. I really did that. If anything, you're the most amazing girl I've ever met," Hyde explains, trying to get me to forgive his harsh words.

"Des mots saouls, des pensees sobres," I respond, grabbing the rest of my books from my locker.

"What?" Hyde laughs, shaking his head. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."

I laugh, shutting the locker door. "For one, it's French. And it means, "Drunk words, sober thoughts"."

"And what exactly does that mean?"

I sigh, clutching my books to my chest. I fake a smile at him. "It means, yeah, you might have been drunk, but you said those words because of the liquid courage. It gave you the balls to say it to my face. I'm sure you thought all of that about me. And I don't blame you." I sigh, looking down at my shoes. "It's all true." My eyes snap back up at him. I narrow my eyes. "You may have been right but that in no way means I forgive you."

I walk away from Hyde, feeling a headache form. In a way I wish that Friday night never happened. But then again, Madeline never would've met Steven. She really likes him. More than she's ever liked a guy before.

As I walk through the halls, I see my favorite pair of siblings plus Evangeline. Madeline's eyes are wide with happiness as she animatedly talks to Eva about something. I smile at everyone as I stand next to Jake. Madeline is telling Eva all about this awesome outfit she got last week. She's beyond excited about it, which is very peculiar. She's never this happy about clothes. I mean, neither am I unless it's a new Motley Crue shirt that Tommy sent me.

"Hey, Henley," Jake says from next to me, a huge smile on his face.

"Hello, Jacob," I respond formally, causing a smile to appear on his face.

He's quiet for a moment, listening to his sister's high pitched squealing about the perfect shoes she found before tuning her out. "What're you doing tonight?"

"Uh, well, I was probably gonna phone my best friend from L.A. Why?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to hang out or something?" He takes a glance at his sister who's full attention is now on us. "Just us?"

I open my mouth to answer, but Madeline screeches the answer for me.

"She can't!"

"I can't?"

"Yes! We have plans tonight, remember!" She responds, her eyebrows raising. She mouths the word "Stevie" to me without her brother or Eva noticing somehow.

I nod my head, understanding flooding my features. "That's right. Yeah we got plans. Maybe some other time though?"

"Oh," Jake says, looking rather put out. "Yeah, that's fine."

The bell rings, signaling the end of school. Madeline grabs my hand, pulling me out the front doors of this piss poor school. The girl is so happy she's nearly skipping after she links her arm with mine. I laugh at her, shaking my head. This is probably the happiest I've seen her. Stevie must be treating her right.

"So, how's you and 'Stevie" doing?" I ask, nudging her lightly in the ribs.

She giggles a bit at the sound of her new guy's name. "We're doin' awesome. In fact, we have a date tonight."

"Okay, that's nice and all. Don't take this the wrong way, but what does this have to do with me?"

"Because, Duff's tagging along so you are too," She responds, a smile still painted on her cherry red lips.

I laugh, side eyeing her. "When the hell was my Monday night decided?"

"Last night when me and Stevie made the plans," She says, shrugging her shoulders like she didn't just throw me into a situation I probably didn't want to be in.

"Thanks for telling me only hours before we're going out," I say, sarcasm thick in my voice.

"You're welcome," Madeline says, not phased at all. She takes a look at the watch that sits on her wrist. "We have an hour to get ready. You definitely aren't goin' out wearing that."

I look down at my outfit, instantly feeling offended. I'm wearing the newest concert shirt that Tommy sent me, my ripped up blue skinny jeans, worn out combat boots, and an oversized bomber jacket that I'm positive was Tommy's. I used to kinda steal his clothes when I'd go over to his place. What can I say? I like oversized things. Back to the point, I think I look great today.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's just, that's not really something you'd wear on a date."

I scoff. "This isn't my date."

Madeline smiles, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Don't act like you don't like Duff."

"'Like' as in I only spent one night with the guy, then yeah sure. I like Duff," I scoff, rolling my eyes. "I barely met him."

"I barely met Stevie," She says, nudging me.

I sigh. "That's cause you don't have problems opening up to people like I do."

"Maybe Duff could change that for you."

I smile at her hopefulness. Between the two of us, she's always been the more optimistic. No matter what she's always got her eyes set on the bright side. Completely opposite of me. I've always been very pessimistic. I'm always skeptical with everything. Hell, I was even skeptical when Madeline wanted to be friends with me. I still don't let her in on parts of my life-such as Athena and Tommy-but I have let her in on a lot. I'm constantly looking at the worst possible outcome. My mom claims that it's because of how I dress. I know for a fact that's bullshit because Tommy nearly dresses the same as me and he's the happiest person I know. Er-well- I guess I should say goofiest.

"Maybe," I say, for once letting myself feel a little bit of hope. Maybe he will be able to change that for me. I just have to be willing to take that leap.

"Anyways!" Madeline exclaims, unlinking our arms. She grabs my hand and starts to almost run, pulling me along behind her. "We have some getting ready to do!"

I laugh, letting her pull me down the empty street. I guess this date can't be that bad.

Just be yourself. Don't let him believe you're something you're not.

Although, after that scary judge of character that night in the bathroom, I think he might already know everything about me.

TAGS:

All fics: @the--blackdahlia @sugar-content @sharon6713 @siliwanoel @charlyallise @lo-bells @lauravic @livingdeadharley @kawennote09 @ozzypawsbone-princeofbarkness @hllywdwhre @abbysdogcollar @nikkisixxwiththebass @waywardprincess666 @tommyleeownsme

@rock-n-roll-soul-frankie @unholy-brat @eak1996 @madsthegroupie @sinningsixx @kissyourrosegoodbyemotley

Duff: @daisystuffsstuff

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make-it-mavis · 5 years

Text

Fire Flower

Sequel to Sunflower

WiR fic (INTERNET AU) 3904 words Characters: Make-it Mavis, Red (friendly Turbo duplicate) Content warnings: Self-harm mention

Premise: Following their awkward encounter at the dance, Mavis bucks up the nerve to call Red and explain things, but ends up explaining more than she had planned to, and gives the boy just a shred of truth about her past.

_______________________________________

It had been three days since the dance.

Mavis had spent that time restless, looking for any idle distraction that still left enough room in her brain for her to come up with a reasonable excuse for her behavior. She crept around the social media district, wandered aimlessly in the towering Google fortress, and hunkered down in Buzzztube, puzzling over some of the things gamers and admins found entertaining, but sometimes still finding a good chuckle or two.

And the whole time, she did not receive a single call from Red, thankfully. His brothers texted her now and then, asking where she was, if she was okay, and saying how she should contact Red, because he was worried. As bad as that made her feel, she had to take her time until she was ready.

On that third night, she decided that she was about as ready as she was going to get. So she sat down on her hotel bed, sitting next to the lamp on her bedside table, the only light source in the room at the time. Holding her weird little rectangle ‘phone’ against her bent legs, she stared at her contact list, eyes locked on Red’s name (with a little sunflower ‘emoji’ next to it). Heart squirming in her chest, she took a deep breath and tapped the icon for a video call.

It started ringing. At first, all she saw was her own tired face, the yellow light of the lamp casting half her face in shadow. She stared into her own eyes, a warning to not screw this up, until her face shrunk into the corner, and she saw Turbo’s face -- well, a Turbo’s face. Red appeared to be sitting mostly in the dark himself, but she could tell he had a window open somewhere, because just enough sunlight glowed off-screen to illuminate his face. His eyes were bright against the darkness, and they were cautious, concerned, and… guilty, she noted unhappily.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. It seemed that they had frozen up at the sight of each other.

Mavis managed to speak first. “Hey, Red,” she said quietly.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Mavis,” he muttered. “Hi.”

“Uh…”

“So…”

“I’m…”

They paused.

Mavis sighed, willing to get it over with. “Red, listen. About the other night, I’m… really sorry. And I can explain--”

“No,” Red interrupted gently. “No, don’t do that. Don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry, and I am. I really am. I should have asked you first. I don’t blame you for running off.”

“Well, I don’t blame you for trying,” she objected sadly. “It’s not like I tried to stop you. I should’ve said something, I just, I dunno, I just got--”

He said along with her, “--caught up in the moment.”

That threw her off track, and she stared at him. He was smiling kind of ruefully. “I guess we both oughtta take care not to lose our heads, huh?”

She chuckled, just once. “My head’s been gone for years.”

“Really?” he smiled. “Then whose beautiful face am I looking at?”

That threw her even further off track. Her insides protested at the tiny hint of adrenaline. He was just too sweet. So much so, that he was almost intimidating to talk to. Mavis had never been known for handling sweetness gracefully, but she wanted to try.

At her pause, Red’s smile faded, and he combed a hand back through his hair. “Gnah,” he grunted. “Sorry. You’re not interested. I’ll back off now, I promise.”

Perfect, she thought, this is perfect. You can let him down easy, and then the friendship can turn awkward and fizzle, and that will be the cleanest way out you could possibly ask for. This is perfect.

On impulse, she said, “That’s not it.”

Dammit, Mavis.

Red perked up a bit, his eyes cautiously hopeful. “...Really? So-- so you mean…?”

Ignoring the voice of reason in her head, she avoided his gaze and told him what was technically not a lie.

“It’s just that I… Well, I haven’t told you this before, but… I’ve got some, uh, baggage when it comes to these things.”

Red was silent for a moment, in thought. Just then, he looked horrified. “Oh, no,” he breathed, “Did I trigger something awful?”

“Uh,” she shifted, feeling put on the spot. “I-- I guess you could call it that. Yeah. But it’s not so much that you tried to kiss me, it’s that, um… I kinda… haven’t wanted that kind of thing in a long time. I didn’t think I could anymore, and, um…”

Mavis held her words for just a moment, debating what to reveal. She wanted him to know the truth, but the truth was too much. But if she spoke just right, she did not have to lie to him at all.

Red just listened, his horrified face slipping slowly into soft sympathy, almost like he knew what he was hearing.

“My… last relationship,” she forced out, “ended… really badly. And I, uh, never wanted to even give myself a chance to go through that again. So, when I almost let you, uh… I just saw this… inevitable pain. And I panicked.”

Red’s glowing eyes fell downcast, and she saw the ghost of a sad smile. “I’m sorry. That’s an awful thing to go through. I’ve been through it myself.”

She tilted her head.

Seeing her expectant look, he explained, “Uh… well, listen… I used to date a lot. Often casually, nothing too serious. Not that I was exactly afraid of commitment, I just… I’ve always had a lot of love to give, y’know? And everything always seemed to end just fine. ‘Til I met the first person I wanted a serious relationship with. And we had one, for a couple years. I really did love that guy. He was--” he breathed a short laugh, “--he was pretty great. But… then…”

His smile disappeared, and his eyes suddenly seemed so distant, and Mavis thought to herself, there it is. Right in front of her was a glimpse into the pain she knew he had been hiding. She listened intently, motionless.

Until the fog in Red’s eyes cleared, and he smiled at her again. “Well, anyway… Point is, you’re the first person I’ve had any interest in since that relationship. You’re the first in… almost five years, by now.”

Mavis blinked, unsure whether to be flattered or guilty. Probably a bit of both. “...Huh.”

His smile grew, and that adoration showed in his eyes again. “There’s just somethin’ about you. You just-- You… wandered in from another world, and you… got this spark that just-- it makes me feel so…”

“Alive?” she suggested.

Red looked a little surprised for a second, but then he grinned just enough to show his teeth. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Exactly.”

Mavis could not fight a genuine smile. “Yeah, well. Right back at’cha, Sunflower.”

A small glow shone through the hot, black ache in Mavis’ heart, but it was not enough. It was all sweet, and in another life, it could have made her very happy. But for this one, it was just too late.

After a heartfelt pause, Mavis’ smile disappeared, and she spoke mournfully. “But, Red… you know that fire and flowers don’t mix.”

“What…?” he asked. “What about fire flowers? Just ask Mario.”

She might have smiled at that, if she felt better. “Don’t step on my analogies,” she told him.

“Sorry.”

“But seriously, Red,” she insisted, “you shouldn’t like me.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said, “and I can’t really help it.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I like what I know,” he told her. “I’d like to know more.”

“No,” she shook her head, “no, you really wouldn’t. It’s too much. You deserve better than me. That’s not self-loathing, that’s fact.”

“I deserve better than you?” he asked incredulously. “Are you kidding? Y’know what scares me about liking you? The fact that you deserve better than me!”

Mavis froze. “What? Seriously? How could you possibly think that?”

Red turned his gaze away from the screen, looking like he had backed himself into a corner. He was silent for a minute, only managing to utter, “I… just…”

Mavis took a deep breath. She could feel her insides quivering with emotion. Red could not be allowed to think that he was beneath her. He had to understand just what sort of rotting garbage he would be stepping down into if he messed around with her. She could hardly hold it in.

“No,” she began, her voice shaking. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t deserve someone like you -- I’ve never deserved someone like you, and you know why? I hurt people like you. I hurt everybody. That’s what I do. I hurt, and I steal, and I lie. That’s been my entire life. Thirty-seven years of hurting, stealing, and lying. You can’t even begin to imagine what I’ve done. If you get too close to me, I could take your heart in my hands and crush it into mush, do you understand that? I will hurt you, I will take what I want from you, and I will lie to you! And I don’t want--”

A lump in her throat choked her, and she trembled with the effort of suppressing the surprise flood of tears waiting behind her eyes. “I don’t-- want-- to do that!”

Before Red could respond, she threw the phone to the middle of the bed and tossed some of the blanket over it. Frustrated and sort of disgusted by her own emotions, she leaned back against the pillows and turned her face to the ceiling, gritting her teeth and pushing the heels of her palms against her forehead. The whole situation felt even more overwhelming than ever. She had sworn to herself over and over again that she would not let anything romantic take root. It would have been the worst thing she could possibly do. But then he tried to kiss her, and he confessed his feelings, and she sort of, maybe, confessed hers. Like an idiot.

All this time, she had her guard up. But she had been guarding against the wrong things. She knew that him being a Turbo might have made her weak to developing some level of feelings for him. She never expected to develop feelings for him because he was Red.

That just made things a thousand times more complicated.

From under the blanket, she heard, “Uh… Mavis? Hello? You okay?”

She sighed. “I’m fine.”

He was quiet for a second. “Mavis… you really think you’re a horrible person, huh? I mean, I know we’ve talked about before, but… that really is a problem for you, isn’t it?”

“I am a horrible person,” she corrected him. “By conventional standards. I’m nothing that a sweet ray of sunshine like you oughtta be messing around with.”

There was one small, modest scoff. “I’m no ray of sunshine.”

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met,” she told him plainly. “And I’ve lived nearly four times as long as you.”

“Wow, um,” he breathed, “thank you for saying that. It means a lot.”

She shrugged. “It’s just true.”

“But I’m not sunshine,” he told her. “I’d rather be called ‘Sunflower.’ Sunshine is always clean and perfect. I love flowers, but they are dirty. Hell, they grow out of dirt. They’re full of bugs. That’s a bit more like me. I’m not perfect, Mav. You only think I am because you don’t know the dirt yet.”

Mavis was absolutely burning with curiosity, but she left it. It was not the time to press him on it. “Okay, maybe not perfect. But you’re a good person. You oughtta be interested in good people.”

“Mav, I think I’ve told you this before, but it bears repeating. I don’t believe anyone’s innately good or bad. You think I’m good because that’s how I decided I want to be. Anyone can decide to do better. No matter how horrible they think they are. It’s never too late to start.”

That spiel was familiar. It was one she had mulled over several times already, leading to imaginings of what her new life could be like if she changed the set of rules she lived by. But always, it seemed impossible. He said it was never too late, but it sure felt that way.

Murderers did not suddenly become good people by smiling at strangers more.

“Ain’t enough good deeds in the world to tip my scales,” she said tiredly. “Honestly, it’s never bothered me before, and the only reason it bothers me now is ‘cause I--” she sighed. “‘Cause I know I’m just gonna hurt you. And lie to you. I actually give a shit about you, and I’m not used to that anymore. But I don’t think anyone can change enough to undo decades of bad.”

“Well… you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“Leave the past alone. All that matters is right now, and the future. And right now, and moving on, you can make choices you feel good about. Like, you don’t want to lie to me? Then don’t. Choose to be honest. Only you can make that decision for yourself.”

Mavis hugged her knees tightly. “...You want me to tell you the truth about something?”

“It’s not about me. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“What if I…” she spoke slowly, her heart pounding, “...told you that I’ve lied to you already? To hide ugly things?”

He paused. “Well… it’s not like we’ve known each other that long. It would be fair of you to not feel ready to share with a stranger.”

“We’re not strangers anymore.”

“That’s true.”

There was a pregnant pause as Mavis wrestled with herself. She felt steam swirling in her brain. Honesty was so dangerous. It could ruin absolutely everything, and traumatize the poor boy, and even herself. But the lies were growing heavy, and she was weary. If only she could have shed some weight, even just a bit… She searched and searched inside herself for something she could bear to reveal. Some honesty that still functioned in a carefully cut fragment.

She found it. It was risky, but she found it.

“Okay,” she said to him, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. “Do you want to know the truth about something?”

“Only if you’re ready.”

“I am.”

Mavis reached over the bed to uncover the phone and pick it up. She settled back in by the lamp, and looked at Red’s attentive, but tired face. After a pause, she showed him her left hand, specifically her stump of a ring finger.

“My finger was not amputated due to an incurable viral infection.”

She began running a finger down her rows of neat scars that ran sparse on her fingers, closer on her hand, and crowded down her forearm. “These were not self-inflicted,” she told him, before pointing to the scar on her cheek. “This one was.”

Red just watched, listening with a growing look of concern. She could see the questions piling up behind his eyes.

“What, uh… actually happened to my arm…” she told him slowly, “was… well, back in my arcade, there was this game called Hero’s Duty.”

“Okay.”

“And this game had-- It’s main enemy was this huge, mechanical bug thing. And there were thousands of them at a time, ‘cause they were constantly laying eggs, and, uh… Well, point being, around seven-ish years ago, someone accidentally brought one of those bugs into my game, and they multiplied, and multiplied, and just-- just ate everything.”

She could feel her heart beating faster and faster as the story went on. It was harder to recount than she thought.

“And-- and just before a beacon was put up to draw them away, well…” she looked at her striped arm. “One of ‘em kinda… bit me.”

Red waited. “Bit you?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Yeah. All this is one bite. Inside their mouths was nothin’ but rows n’ rows of spinning saw blades. So, you see here…” she pointed out a set of thicker, angrier scars just past her elbow. “Teeth.”

She swept her finger down the rest of the scars. “Saw blades.”

And she pointed to her stump finger. “Casualty.”

Red seemed at a loss for words. He just stared at the scars he could see, his eyes far away as he obviously pictured the attack. “God,” he breathed, “I’m so sorry you went through that. That’s horrifying.”

“Yeah, it was pretty wicked,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I lie to everyone who asks. Normally I love a gory story, but, ah, this one’s a bit hard to talk about. That was… not a good day.”

“No kidding,” he said gently. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to tell me. That’s gotta be a tough thing to remember.”

“Yep.”

His expression softened. “But… thank you for telling me. Seriously.”

Mavis scoffed the tiniest bit, her heart beat slowly beginning to calm down. “Ch’yeah. Almost like I trust you, or somethin’. Think a’ that.”

He smiled. “That makes me happy. I trust you, too.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna tell me some painful truth about your dark past, too?” she asked with a smirk.

Red’s brows raised. “Uh-- Well, I--”

She laughed, and it came out easy. “I’m kidding. Whatever. We’ve heard enough tragedy tonight, right?”

“Uh,” he chuckled nervously, “sure. Listen, I… I will tell you, someday. Just not yet. I don’t think I’m ready. Not-- not that I don’t trust you or anything, no, it’s just, um…” his gaze fell for a moment, “it really is tough to talk about.”

“Hey, it’s cool,” Mavis said quietly. “You know I get it. Whenever you’re ready, right?”

He smiled warmly, sighing through his nose. “Exactly.”

For a minute, they just looked at each other. Mavis was admittedly not sure what to say. She had already said a whole damn lot.

“So…” Red said carefully, “how do you feel? After getting all that out?”

Mavis considered that. She was shivering, and her heart still burned behind her ribs, but even though all she wanted to do was pace briskly around the room to burn off the adrenaline, she really did feel like some weight was taken off the massive load on her shoulders. She was not free of the mountains of secrets she had to keep, but she was more free in that moment than she had been ten minutes prior. It was a good feeling.

And, whether it was a good thing or not, she felt a bit closer to Red.

“I feel… lighter,” she told him.

“Yeah,” he sighed, almost in relief. “Feels good to get stuff off your chest.”

“Feels better when the memory’s less of a bitch to touch upon,” she smiled awkwardly.

His face perked up with concern. “Oh no,” he said sadly, “I’m sorry. You gonna be okay over there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “I’m like, a billion years old. I’ve done this song and dance before. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” he relaxed on the outside, but she was not so sure about the inside. “But you’re gonna take care of yourself, right? Order a sundae and watch videos of cars slipping on ice-- or-- what have you been watching lately?”

“No, yeah, I’m still into that.”

Red chuckled.

She added with a smirk, “And I was gonna do all that anyway, for your information.”

“Good. Sounds like a good night.”

They fell quiet. She looked at him there, all alone in the dark, probably super warm, probably smelled really good, as usual-- Ahem, she thought, mentally clearing her throat and getting back on track. She wanted to keep talking, but felt like she ran out of things to say. He seemed to be in the same boat. But neither of them made any move to hang up, either. Eventually, Red was the one to break the silence in a low, sincere voice.

“Wish I was there with you.”

Mavis felt her brain stutter. “Um… yeah, I, uh, kinda do, too.”

“Really?” he asked. “‘Cause I can be there in--”

“Not-- not tonight, though. But we should hang out again soon. I’ve had enough of this weird hiatus we’re on.”

He grinned. “Amen to that.”

“Tomorrow?” she proposed. “We haven’t toured obscure Tumblr tags in a while. Probably new stuff up.”

“That-- Yeah, that sounds great. I can’t wait.”

“Meet outside the site at midnight?”

“Uh,” he squinted. “I dunno if I can make midnight. Our admin’s been putting a lot of notes in Google Docs, so I think we’re in for a history paper tomorrow night. Three in the morning is usually their cut off, but I can give you a call if they turn off the computer sooner. That sound okay?”

“Sure,” she shrugged. “I got nowhere to be.”

“Awesome,” he grinned, and paused. “Okay. Yes. Great.”

Mavis smirked. “You excited?”

“To see you?” he laughed a bit. “Now, why would I be excited about that?”

“I bet I could guess,” Mavis snickered. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ you too.”

“Good!”

“Good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

“Um--” Red stammered through a smile, “So, if you say you’re okay, I’m gonna go, ‘cause, ah, I think the bros wanted to go for a run--”

“S’all good,” Mavis interrupted. “Go, go do your nerdy exercise.”

“Okay, Mav. Um-- look-- thank you for calling me. I was getting kinda worried.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And, and thank you for being so open and honest with me. I really, really appreciate that.”

Mavis felt a small dart pierce her chest. “And thank you for listening,” she said, smiling uneasily.

“Any time,” he said. “Any time at all.”

She just held her smile as long as she could.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” he said, sitting all the way up. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “And a bunch of times after that.”

“Can’t wait,” he grinned, combing a hand through his hair. “Okay, I’m gonna let you go. Goodnight, Mav -- take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. G’night, Red,” she paused for just a second. “Oh, and Red?”

He perked up. “Yeah?”

“How ‘bout…” she squinted through a sheepish smile. “Maybe next time… You let me make the first move. Yeah?”

Red’s eyes seemed to cloud over in this eager, love-struck sort of way at that. She had to think he got caught up in the images that request produced. Although he looked almost unbearably cute, her heart was already pounding from what a stupid decision it was to say that.

“‘Next time’, huh?” he asked dreamily. “You got it.”

“Cool,” she breathed. “Okay. Alright. G’night, for real, Sunflower.”

“See you soon, Superstar.”

She hung up.

For a few minutes, she merely stared at the black screen, glaring daggers at her own reflection. Dammit, dammit, dammit Mavis, she thought, thirty-seven years and you’re still the most monumental dumbass that’s ever lived.

“Ugh,” she groaned, tossing the phone into a nearby chair and flopping to mash her face into a pillow. It was definitely time to order that stupid sundae, even if she definitely did not deserve it. That usually made food taste better, anyway, in her experience.

At the very least, the ball was in her court now.

But knowing her luck, she would just fall in love with it.

#fanfiction #internet au #make it mavis #turbo (red)#just thought i'd tack something on the end #and it ended up longer than the first #oops

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