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themonkeycabal · 4 years

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The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Episode 1 SPOILERS

If you need to blacklist, I will be tagging all things as #tfatws and/or #tfatws spoilers

My roommate keeps calling this The Falcon and the Snowman. I'm not entirely sure it's accidental.

I was going to watch at midnight and then fell asleep. Betrayal. I will not forgive this, brain.

Bucky Barnes character development. Sam Wilson character development. Six full episodes of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson. When we watched Civil War, did we think we'd actually be lucky enough to get a buddy idiot cop movie? Let alone six hours of it? #blessed

What are we expecting here? I have no idea, honestly. I think all the clips we've been seeing are from the first couple episodes, so they've hidden any sort of plot from us. We know Baron Zemo's around with his stupid purple ski mask and burning hatred for superheroes and probably specifically for Bucky who he tried (and honestly kind of succeeded, before then ultimately failing dramatically) to set up. And Sharon Carter will turn up at some point. OMG guys, Sharon Carter character development!

I'm just here for the buddy bickering and badassery.

SPOILERS BELOW

New World Order: Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes realize that their futures are anything but normal. *Realize*? lol

Also, it's tagged as "science fiction, action-adventure, buddy" Awww.

Aww, Sam looks sad as he gazes at The Shield.

"How's it feel?" "Like it's someone else's." "It isn't."

That's right, Sam! Listen to that voice. That's yours now, baby.

We're just going to roll right into a mission. Rescuing a Captain Vassant, whose plane fell out of contact shortly after take off, from the ridiculously named group LAF, somewhere over Tunisia. Sam's got to keep LAF from doing bad things and the US Military can't be seen doing anything blah blah blah, violation of treaties, yada yada. And Sam's all "blah blah got it". We're on the same page, Sam and me. Nobody wants to hear it, Briefing Exposition Guy.

We will have a Lt. Torres on the ground following along and offering helpful commentary as they go.

Sam is warned to be subtle as he falls backwards out of the cargo plane in very dramatic fashion and then swoops off on his brightly colored wings. lol

Sam gets to the captain's plane but the pilot is dead and a shady LAF guy is piloting. Oh no. Hey, it's Batroc. Last seen getting his ass kicked by Captain America in "CA: The Winter Soldier". He makes some jokes about their prisoner - presumably Captain Vassant. Awful cocky for a guy with a history of getting stomped on, you know.

Anyway, he's about to get his ass kicked by a Captain America again as Sam breaks into the plane. You might just be using wing shields now, Sam, but you're Captain America in my heart. Also, hey, dumb bad guys, don't open fire with an automatic weapon inside a plane or the ricochets might kill your pilot. And his body will slump forward and put the plane into a steep dive.

Batroc distracts Sam while the bad guys gather up Vassant and jump out of the plane with him. They have wingsuits, but Sam has, you know, wings. And like a jet pack. Don't hit the canyon walls, Sam!

Somehow the bad guys have waiting gunships. Did they expect to jump out of the plane over this canyon? I can only assume. Red Wing takes care of one of the helicopters. Man these guys are a pain in the ass. They wing suit into one of the many many helicopters that just happen to be right in the right spot. They're racing for the Libyan border. Then Sam shows up, they throw Vassant out the copter again — this guy is having the worst day — and glide into another chopper.

Man ANOTHER gunship? The hell? They're causing serious ecological damage to this canyon, what with all the zillionty missiles they're firing at Sam. How strapped is this thing?

LT Torres is trying to keep up, and you know, trying to get Sam to not fly into Libyan territory and cause an international incident or some such. Sam is struck by inspiration and not by a missile. But, the missiles are following Sam and Sam is following Batroc's chopper. Sam zooms through the open doors of the chopper, knocks poor Vassant out of the chopper AGAIN (but then catches him), and LAF blows up their own helicopter. Alas, Batroc escaped.

Sam saves the day and LT Torres is like super excited. Don't break your humvee, Torres.

Torres and Sam stop by a tea shop in Tunis, or somewhere. Sam's trying to fix his tech that got a little shot up and Torres buys the tea. A man comes up and thanks Sam for saving his wife. It's sweet. And then Torres gets up and wanders about a bit with his phone as he exposits about LAF. Is Torres about to become a pin cushion? Only instead of pins it'll be bullets? I'm not feeling good about his continued health. He's too cute and earnest.

Oh, he's looking for some sort of hidden, augmented reality tag on the walls. A red handprint, id'ing some group that calls themselves the Flag Smashers. Bad guys are really scraping the bottom of the evil name barrel. Anyway, they think the world was better during the blip. Nothing says better like mass failure of infrastructure and probably world wide famine. They want a unified world without borders. I have big doubts the world would be a borderless utopia during a blip-like event. Power vacuums invite trouble, seldom unity.

Anyhoo. Sam kind of agrees with me, "every time something gets better for one group, it gets worse for another".

Torres will track the 'online chatter'. But he's also heard some wacky things about Steve Rogers, conspiracy theory stuff, "they think that he's in a secret base on the moon, looking down over us". LOL. What? Is Steve a moon angel now? or Santa Claus? "You didn't like fly him to the moon?" Sam assures him that's all very much silly foolishness. Steve's in Boca working on his tan.

Sam's back in D.C. giving a talk about Steve at the Smithsonian's National Air & Space museum. "And he mastered posing stoically". Hey, I have that picture. Also, RHODEY! Hi Rhodey!

"A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after 5 years away. Sending the world into turmoil." Again. I know this was meant to come out before WandaVision, but timeline-wise this works better.

"We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we're in. Symbols are nothing without the women and men that give them meaning." Sam holds up The Shield. "I don't know if there's been a greater symbol." Aww, he's retiring the shield. He hands it off to museum people and they put it in a display case. I think Rhodey has some thoughts about this. I suspect Rhodey maybe doesn't agree.

Sam and Rhodey wander through the Cap exhibit and Sam's talking about how when he left (or got snapped, it's not like you had a choice about that, Sam), his nephews were babies and now they're little men. Awww. Rhodey says Sam should bring them to D.C., he'll teach them how to fly, "the right way". lol.

Rhodey says it's crazy to think nobody will be carrying the shield. Sam points out they went 70 years without, so like …

Rhodey wants to know why Sam didn't take up the mantle. BTW, this is a cool exhibit, marvel peeps. Sam says it feels like it belongs to someone else … Steve. Rhodey says everything's broken. Allies are enemies, things are torn apart. People are looking for somebody to make it better. Having made his pitch, Rhodey leaves Sam to stare mournfully at the shield. I think you're afraid to pick up the shield, Sam. Afraid you won't measure up. But, you can do it. I have faith. Also, Steve was kind of a disaster in his own way. He wasn't perfect, which was the point of Steve as a hero. Pick up the shield, Sam.

A fancy hotel, chatting people in the lobby, up to a mezzanine, a group of very Russian oligarch looking dudes and their security. And lo! A metal arm punches through a wall and the Winter Soldier, looking very Winter Soldiery appears and stabs some dudes in the neck. This has a sepia, dream/nightmareness to it. Oh yeah, it's his old shiny silver arm. Totally a nightmare/very bad memory. "Hail Hydra" and he kills the head Russian guy. The poor dude who was just chatting in the lobby is caught trying to get into his door. He swears he didn't see anything, begs for his life and the Winter Soldier shoots him. Bucky wakes up, breathing heavily. Poor Bucky.

Glad he's in therapy. I'm sure goat herding in Wakanda was good and peaceful and all, but, goats will only get you so far. Also glad we've skipped the "wanted terrorist" part and gone on to traumatized hero.

I get the feeling he's not the best patient. He lies to his therapist straight off. Twice. lol. "You're a civilian now. With your history the government needs to know, you're not gonna … [therapist makes stabby motion]." lol (I love this actress by the way. She's been in everything for ages. She's great). "It's a condition of your pardon. So tell me about your most recent nightmare." "I didn't have a nightmare." She starts writing, Bucky objects and tells her she's being passive-aggressive, but he gives in.

He has a list of amends to make and three rules to follow. He crossed a name off. There's a Hydra pawn who's a senator, he helped her get into office. "After Hydra disbanded, she continued to use the power I gave her." Hmm. He tracks her car and listens in on her plotting to have a congressman killed.

* Rule number one: Can't do anything illegal.

He's hijacked the Senator's car and is remote controlling it, making it drive all out of control and freaking her out. He says he was collecting intel to give to an aide to convict her. Absolutely only did that. Not one illegal thing about that at all, no ma'am.

"Rule number two?" "Hmm. What was rule number two?" "Nobody gets hurt. It's a big one." "Then why isn't it rule number one?" Oh, Bucky, you're a jackass.

* Rule number two: Nobody gets hurt.

"I didn't hurt anybody. Promise." He totally broke a dude's hand and then punched him in the face, knocking him out. I mean, there's levels of 'hurt' I suppose.

"The whole point of making amends is to fulfill rule number three." "Of course I completed rule number three."

* Rule number three: "I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James 'Bucky' Barnes. And you're part of my efforts to make amends." He says to the corrupt senator he's just been terrifying. And then he walks away as a tac team pulls up. lol.

What I'm getting from this therapy session is that Bucky is a big fat fibber.

Also he's got a little black book full of names. Including, I see, H. Zemo. That's not going to go as smoothly as taking down a shady government fatcat, I think.

"So you did it all right, but it didn't help with the nightmares?" "Well, like I said, I didn't have any." Fibber.

People wanna help you Bucky and you can trust them. "I trust people," he mutters grumpily. She asks for his phone and he hands it over. Look, lady! Trust! Probably government mandated trust, but still!

"You don't have ten phone numbers on this thing." … I don't have ten phone numbers on my phone. :( "Oh, and you've been ignoring texts from Sam." Well …

"I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad." lol. Tough love from the therapist. I'm feeling a little judged myself, though. "You're alone." ALRIGHT DON'T RUB IT IN!

"You're a hundred years old. You have no history. No family—" "Are you lashing out at me, doc? Because that's really unprofessional." I love you Bucky, but you are a disaster patient.

Bucky relents. "I'm trying. This is new for me. I didn't have a moment to deal with anything. I had a little calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years." Get this man a goat farm!

"So now that you've stopped fighting, what do you want?" "Peace." A goat farm. "That is utter bullshit." lol "You're a terrible shrink." "I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies and I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone, that is the quietest, most personal hell." Get some friends, Bucky. "I know you've been through a lot. But, you've got your mind back. You're being pardoned. These are good things. You're free." "To do what?"

On the streets of Brooklyn. Bucky breaks up an argument between neighbors about trashcans. Hey, Bucky has a friend! Yori Nakajima who's probably like 80+. Did you babysit him back in the day, Buck? har har. They were going to meet for lunch, but some punk named Unique was putting his trash into Mr. Nakajima's trash can and just derailed the whole day. The horror. No joke, though, people get so nutted up about that. It's weird to me. Of course, I did also have a neighbor who never put out his trash for pickup and just snuck out at night before trash day and distributed his garbage into in other people's bins. Cheapass.

"Hey man, I'm Unique. Like Monique but it's got a 'u' in there for uniqueness." Yeah, you should have let Yori smack him, Buck.

Well now Yori is just not in the mood for lunch. Bucky tries to persuade him, but one grumpy old man out grumps the other. "But Izzy. We always go to Izzy on Wednesday. What if I buy?" "Fine. But no talking." lol. BFFs!

Yori is looking at the obituaries. "Look, nobody made it past 90 this week." Bucky tsks "So young, such a shame."

Bucky kind of smiles at the girl behind the counter at the sushi joint, Yori tells him he should ask her out. Bucky makes a "are you nuts, shut up" face. That doesn't stop Yori. "He would like to take you out on a date. Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle." You're a wild man, Yori!

She's down by it, though, and she and Yori hammer out the details while Bucky's like uh, okay, so wow, that's happening. "There's a dance to these things. You can't … you gotta warm up and I haven't danced since 1943."

Yori sees something and suddenly gets sad. His son loves red bean mochi. His son was a consultant, working abroad and he was killed. Oh. Oh Bucky, why you gotta … Yori's son was the innocent witness he killed at the hotel in his nightmare/memory. "I will never know what really happened to him." Brutal.

Delacroix, Louisana

Sam's on his way home. Wilson Family Seafood. Aww. His nephews are helping mom with the catch. "Blue for the snapper, orange for the white fish," Sam calls out. The boys run over to him. They do look like fine gentlemen. It's weird, Sam, I get it. I recently realized my oldest nephew will be 13 in May and it's like "no, he's only in kindergarten, what are you talking about?"

His sister greets him then tells him he's looking all sneaky. Sam deflects. Their boat has seen better days. The Paul & Darlene. Aww. Is that his parents names? "Baby being held together by duct tape and prayers." Just needs to float long enough for his sister to sell it. But Sam's all, uh I thought we were going to *discuss* that. Uh oh, family drama. "We did, and then you were off fighting Dr Space Cape or whatever (lol), while I was holding it together for five long years." Ouch.

Sam is not down by this selling the boat thing. His sister doesn't seem to think they're in a position to hold on to it. Also, she'd really like to not hash this out on the pier with like twenty other people around, Sam.

They get into more of an argument on the boat. The family biz is not doing well financially. Sarah won't let Sam help for some reason, and he makes some comment about the house and loans and she punches him in the chest. lol "I forgot how hard you hit."

Sam insists they can turn it around, consolidate loans. And she's all, been there done that, I've come to terms with this. He's a persistent little jerk. This is such a perfectly sibling argument. Notably he has moved himself out of punching range.

Aww, she wants to believe he can save the boat, but she has DOUBTS.

Back in Brooklyn. Bucky attempts his date. He turns up at the end of the sushi girl's shift and gives her flowers. "Well, if that's not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone's ever done."

They chat while she tidies. He tried online dating oh lol. It didn't take. She tells him "You sound like my dad. Wait how old are you?" "Hundred and six." Oh yeah, what a funny joke. Next she wants to know why he's wearing gloves. "I have … um … poor circulation." He grimaces at himself and glances out the window. Smooth as silk, Bucky. Smoooooth.

"Let's play a game." Now, I'm thinking like some weird dating word/get-to-know-each-other game or something. I don't know. But, nope, she means Battleship. lol. I like her.

The drinking game version of battleship. Bucky sucks at it. "You sure can drink." "Yeah, well." Super assassin, unfair advantage.

We're just going to rub in this whole The Winter Soldier killed Yori's son thing, as she says it's nice that he's spending time with the old man. Since he was all messed up after his son was murdered and how it was extra hard because he didn't know what happened. I'm not sure this is healthy, Bucky.

"There's no word for someone whose kids die." Okay, ouch, lady, jeez. Bucky looks like he wants to puke. Or crawl into a deep dark hole. Or something. "Because it's the worst thing that can happen." Bucky nopes right out the front door. So, maybe they should have played pinochle instead.

Bucky goes to Yori. Are you really going to tell this man you murdered his son when you were a brain-washed Hydra assassin? Yori asks how the date was, and Bucky sees a shrine to the man's son in the apartment. Poor Bucky. He makes some excuse about owing Yori for lunch and leaves. Yori's name is in his book of amends. :(

Back in Louisiana. Sam and the kids are packing up meals. His sister maybe wants to sell meals in addition to fish. Sam says they've got to get going to their appointment at the bank. She's says it's in an hour. Sam must be just the worst brother to live with "There's no such thing as on time. You're either early or late. Pick one." Man, no wonder he gets punched.

Switzerland

Lt Torres is walking down a street with an unusually large number of people just sort of milling around in the middle of the street looking at their phones. He's got his kind of hidden, recording. He stops a guy and asks if he knows what they're supposed to be doing. Oh it's the flag munchers, or whatever. There's a weird phony bird whistle and then people gather around a person handing out masks with red handprints on them. His decoy bad guy phone chirps and gives the order to run. A guy jumps out of a nearby building with two huge duffle bags (of money it seems) and walks off while the previously milling people become a seemingly panicked mob, distracting police and whatnot.

Torres tries to arrest the jumper guy, who appears to have some super strength as he kicks a policeman halfway across the street. Torres, you're cute, but not super bright. Torres gets body slammed and then stomped. He survives again, however, defying the odds.

At the bank. The account manager keeps giving Sam the side-eye as he goes through their paperwork. "Do I know you from somewhere." Sam's all modest, "I don't know. Do you?" And then he makes a little wing flappy move with his hands. lol. What a nerd. "Falcon!" Then he takes a selfie with Sam. Sarah is very done with all this. She tries to get them back on track. Account guy wants to know how Avengers make a living. Probably not looking good for your loan, Sam.

"Is there some kind of fund for heroes? Or did Stark pay you when he was around? My condolences, by the way."

Yeah, financially this is looking bad, my dude. "You have no income over the last five years." Well, but, he was blipped. I mean …

Alas, shot down for the loan.

Sam and Sarah argue on the street. Ah, Sam ran off to the Air Force and didn't deal with what was going on at home. Oh my, this is getting ugly. Speaking as someone who got disowned on account of a family business, let me just say, they're not easy. Nuh-uh.

"Half the boat's mine and so is the house. We're not selling our family's legacy." "You gonna do me like what when you know I'm right?"

I get it might be awkward to ask, but I bet you could have asked Pepper for a loan, Sam, and she would have given it to you gladly. Come on, man.

Later. Sam's working on the boat's engine, and it's not cooperating. In the cabin he looks at the family pictures on all the walls. He's having a rough day. About as rough as Torres who texts him to find a secure line and call him along with a selfie of his bruised and battered face. #important (lol, really?)

Sam watches the footage Torres caught and they chat about how Torres was supposed to be doing that stuff online and not getting his face kicked in in Switzerland.

Sarah interrupts and turns on the TV. Some guy is giving a speech about how everybody needs a hero. "We need someone who can inspire us again. Someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So on behalf of the Department of Defense and our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero." hmm, no comment. Except, you should have taken up the shield, Sam. Now it's Sam's turn to look like he's going to puke. What did I say about power vacuums? Somebody will fill them, whether you want them to or not.

This new guy looks like a goober. There, I said it.

credits

So … lots of setup. And very clear on the two guys trying to figure out where they fit in this world post blip and big wars. Both of them trying to fix broken families.

Plus a goober in a Cap suit.

So far so good.

#tfatws #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers

30 notes · View notes

vegalocity · 3 years

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I have to ask for another Jasmintea because I love your writing so Kisses 15 and 28 and Touches 24, please. Preferably in Sandy’s perspective but you can do Tang’s if you want

Affection meme

15. Soothing kisses

28. Neck Kisses

24. Whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

I don’t think we done any Jasminetea stuff where Tang is Just Some Guy, so i’m gonna do that here because it’s my favorite theory (like everyone else has some deep connections to the classic Pilgrims, Tang is just Some Guy, it’s hilarious)

@tigerseye46

He knew the way trauma worked, that sometimes, even long after you’ve processed and moved on, it can still hit you again. It’s one of the things he’d learned rather quickly after starting therapy. His therapist had wanted him to understand that first and foremost so he could better handle these moments as they came and not begin to think that he may be ‘getting worse’ or something along the same lines.

Thankfully he was always content with being the odd duck in his little family, new and old members alike knew that he preferred solitude. While he enjoyed company and would be as pleasant as possible, while he’d do anything for his family, he just preferred the quiet. Which meant that when those sort of relapses happened and a trigger made its way straight into his panic response he was alone.

Well… not ALONE alone granted at least Mo and the other cats were always there, but alone-ish.

There was no point in bothering the others with it. The kids would just be worried, He’d rather Pigsy not find out, Eldest brother…. Likely already knew, he’d poked into his brother’s web history when they were at Flower Fruit Mountain he’d spotted ‘Do I have PTSD?’ in his search history, so it couldn’t have been hard for him to put two and two together.

But Tang…

He really didn’t want Tang to know.

It wasn’t exactly a hope that had any real chance at turning out in his favor, especially since through some minor miracle Tang had somehow gotten it into his head that he was actually someone worth desiring, and now they were… a thing… then surely it would be coming out sooner or later.

He’d just more realistically hoped that it would be on his own terms.

Not like this.

Not with him sealing himself in the water tight shower stall on his boat, letting the water run with the drain plugged until he was totally submerged because the water in the harbor was too dirty too slimy, too full of pollution and invasive mollusk species, it wasn’t the way water was supposed to be, but the only way he could feel okay right now was if he let his gills open up and breathe so he had to make do.

It wasn’t ideal. When he had these specific bouts he’d much rather just take the day, sail out until land was just a speck on the horizon and the ocean water felt much more right, but he didn’t have the option today, he really didn’t want to cancel the date he and Tang were going to go on tonight, and that coupled with the fact that he’d long since given everyone standing ‘always welcome aboard’ invites, that meant that anytime within at least fifteen minutes of the assumed meeting time, Tang was going to just show up, and he needed to be ready.

So this and then whatever yoga he could fit in the time between him calming down and the assumed date time would likely help him stabilize enough that he could handle tonight, at worst he might not stay for a cup of tea when he brought Tang home like the gentleman he wanted to be (and both Tang AND Pigsy would playfully mock him about being) and he could then take tomorrow for himself and do his usual plan.

He knew better than to get frustrated, days like this were just part of the process, he should be glad His bad days didn’t usually try to bring out the rage that had (for the most part) become quiet.

Then there was a tapping on the glass, disturbing the water and making an echoey ‘thunk thunk’ that startled him from his meditation. He flailed and the water sloshed and swirled around him with his motions, as he turned in the direction of the threatthreatthreatthreat the noise.

Tang was peering in on the other side, eyes wide and curious.

“Did I come at a bad time?” his voice was distorted and muffled between the glass and the water but Sandy heard him all the same, his heart a panicked flutter in his chest when did Tang even get there? Why was he here so early? Or- or was he on time? Did he lose track of time? He couldn’t lose track of time like that! Not when he still wasn’t better, not when being outside the water made his skin too dry and his hair too stiff and his gills close up and notsafenotsafenotsafenotsafe-

He wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready yet! He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out he wasn’t better yet.

It seemed Tang quickly began to pick up on what was going on, much to Sandy’s equal relief and embarrassment, curious eyes turning sad for a moment, before the thoughtful gears began to turn. He nodded to himself and held up a hand.

-Before standing and calmly leaving him to his devices.

The part of him that was still screeching and refusing to calm insisted that it was better this way, but he still couldn’t help but miss the company, however brief it was.

Tang was always a bit… energetic… in comparison to Pigsy or himself (even back when they were young! (when Pigsy and Tang were young at least)) a bit of a thrillseeker even if he didn’t overtly appear as such. But he was glad that he at least had the good sense to just leave Sandy to his devices, perhaps fixing himself some tea and settling down with a book, allowing Sandy the time he needed before he was ready, honestly Tang was just such a great guy already it did quite a bit to settle his mind to be assured that he was going to be patient with him when it came to this, should it happen again (he hoped not for a long time, but his hands weren’t anywhere near done shaking yet so these ‘unsafe’ moods might start making themselves more frequent again.

And then Tang burst back into the room, shed of his outer layers and clad only in his undershirt and boxers and a stepladder, determined grin looking far too cute for the pieces Sandy was quickly putting together. It didn’t take much for his head to go above water so he could speak, he technically just hand to arrange himself so he was sitting on his knees instead of rear and straighten his back, and Tang had the look in his eye that implied this was probably going to be an ‘academic debate’ he’d lose--Several argument points and a fair few more rebuttals already on the tip of his partner’s tongue as he set the stepladder at the base of the shower and started attempting to heave himself over the edge of the shower walls--so he did so to both be able to speak and to better make a bit of room.

“Studies! Have! Shown! -huff huff- that! Acts! Of-!” A yelp cut Tang off as his grip nearly slipped and sent him backward, Sandy jolted, about to stand up to help but Tang regained his footing and held out a hand to wave him off as he finally was half tilted on the top of the glass shower wall, resting for a moment before trying to heave the rest of his body over the edge. “Where was I? Right, acts of solidarity are better for recovery in the long run than simply allowing the person who needs it to stew on their own.” And then with one final scrabble against the glass Tang braced himself and dropped.

And would have completely bashed his head against the showerhead if Sandy didn’t reach out and properly lower him onto the tile.

Instantly he watched his partner freeze up, stiffen and hands suddenly clamp around his chest as the temperature of the water hit him at once.

“Wow that’s cold!”

Sandy hummed and prepared to help him back out but Tang took a breath and dunked his head and shoulders underwater briefly to be properly soaked before resurfacing, pushing his hair back in a way that had no business being so pretty while Sandy was still in the middle of freaking out. “Much better.”

“Can you talk right now?” Quite the question. Talking while his gills were open was always a bit of a hit or miss situation. Sometimes it just made his voice sound a bit garbled, but if he had just surfaced from the water-

He held out a hand infront of his mouth and tested, and sure enough nothing but the faintest huff came out. So he just shook his head in the negative and smiled to try and relay a quick apology.

Tang hummed. “Yes or no questions then.” He was too good. He’d clearly researched this whole thing long ago and had been preparing what to do when the time came ever since, not coming out and saying so, but being prepared when the opportunity arose.

In a strange way it sort of reminded him of something Master would do… He really needed to get back in contact with Sanzang actually, But what would he say to him? Would master even recognize him after everything that had changed? Would he be upset that he’d tracked down Middle Brother’s reincarnation and hadn’t immediately gone to tell him? Or keeping the fact that Eldest Brother was starting to participate in the world around them again and hadn’t immediately gone to him and told him he was right in anticipating Sun Wukong’s eventual return? Would he just be upset with him for how long it had been since they’d spoken? They used to all be so close would the gap that would have formed be so wide and massive that they may as well be strangers again-

“Can I touch you?” Tang broke through his quickly spiraling thoughts calmly. Sandy peered down into the water again and saw him wringing his hands nervously.

He nodded.

“Just push me off if it gets uncomfortable.” Tang paused for a moment. “Not too hard though, Pigsy might say i have a hard head but I don’t know if it would handle collision with tile”

Sandy was able to get a quick laugh out of that, though it came out as silent as anything else with his throat and lungs full of water.

He opened his arms and Tang slotted comfortably inside. It was a bit awkward, since he had to make sure his partner could keep his head above water, but it was manageable, quickly Tang braced himself on Sandy’s shoulders and began to press gentle kisses to what exposed skin was above water.

And it was a bit embarrassing how quickly it was calming the raging storm in his mind. Just… the presence of another warm body against his but still cool and protected by the water around him, it made a shiver crawl up his spine but… in a pleasant way.

Tang pressed himself a little further against Sandy’s chest, mouth resting on the space between his cheek and ear. “I’ll shut up now.”

He wished he knew how that little insecurity got its way into Tang’s head. The man was one of the most confident people he knew, (save Big Brother, but nobody could shake the confidence of Sun Wukong.) and he would show unshakeable he was under cruel words every time they were aimed at him, hell, his primary method of rapport with Pigsy was the both of them bullying eachother relentlessly (in their own words too!) but for some reason once they got romantically involved Tang kept making self-deprecating jokes about being ‘annoying’ and ‘talking too much’ and Sandy’s heart ached when he couldn’t help but wonder how many relationships Tang had been in that crumbled from his supposed ‘annoying’ nature.

Tang took then to take a gasping breath and plunged beneath the water. Sandy was worried for a moment, but then it seemed like Tang knew exactly what he was doing, quickly pushing aside the floating beard hair and wriggling his face in to get near his neck, and for a moment Sandy froze. His gills were still gently pushing and pulling the water through his system and even though he knew Tang would never (intentionally) hurt him his body stiffened as his face (Mouth, teeth, he knows how painful it is to have air blown into your gills he hates it he hates it what’s Tang gonna do he has him at his mercy now) came near such a sensitive part of his body.

Tang placed a gentle kiss on his neck, right over the topmost gill and pulled back out, taking a gasping breath upon surfacing.

“You know, today might just be a good day for one of those low energy ‘Stay in’ dates, wouldn’t you agree?” He was so good.

Too good for him.

But still Sandy nodded and Tang smiled at him in that handsome broad way again before taking another breath and plunging back down.

send me stuff!

#letters to vega #Jasmineteashipping #took me for fucking ever to figure out the scenario #lmk Tang #lmk Sandy #vega writes stories too

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ainosk8 · 4 years

Text

EP 10 ADAM WATCH

I’m not going to pretend Adam isn’t still the creepiest character on this show, but Tadashi...this was a choice

This ep was Adam-lite, but what this episode lacks in Adam it makes up for with Tadashi! Who is of course, integral to Adam’s story, so I’m focusing on him this ep.

We start with this lovely flashback summarizing Tadashi and Adam’s whole situation. Tadashi saw Adam suffering, so he introduced him to skating, which became “his lifeline”. But since skating is a broke bitch hobby, Papa Shindo had to put a stop to it. He took away the one good thing in Adam’s life, which Tadashi believes set him on the path to becoming the messed up, unhappy person he is now.

This is clearly why Tadashi chose “Snake” as his skating persona. As we see in the above screenshots, Tadashi beckons Adam to come deeper into the garden (of Eden), and partake of the Forbidden (broke bitch activity) which in turn leads to his downfall. His kindness led to Adam’s misery, and he blames himself.

Even though Adam was physically and emotionally abused by his aunts, had a distant but shitty father who denied him happiness, and was saddled from birth with the societal pressure that comes with his family name, somehow Tadashi believes it’s all his fault that Adam is That Way. Not to mention the fact that Adam is now a grown ass man who is responsible for his actions regardless of his past. Maybe it’s Tadashi’s servant instinct to cover for his master’s shortcomings, or it could be because he’s the only one in Adam’s life who gives a single shit about him as a person he feels compelled to try to “fix” him.

Realistically, I don’t know what Tadashi expects to happen after he “takes skating away” from Adam though. It’s not like some spell will be broken and Adam will suddenly 180 into a happy functioning human being. He needs therapy for that! Does Tadashi not think Adam will simply fire him and find a new butler who lets him skate? But I guess there isn’t much else Tadashi can do at this point.

Other than hit Reki with his car and drag him into...

According to my friend who has been to Japan, love hotels are super discreet and there are even places where you don’t have to speak to anyone face to face in order to check in (which, by the way seems?? not great??). So I get why it would be convenient for Tadashi when he’s trying not to let his little whoopsie trace back to Adam. But also...if LITERALLY ANYONE saw him, the optics of a grown man silently carrying an unconscious teenager into a private room with mood lighting and a rotating bed? It’s a bad look my dude!

Also, do I wanna know why he knows the location of the closest love hotel? He gets Reki there before he comes to, despite Reki apparently not having been hit very hard. Either this love hotel is mad close to the hospital or this is not Tadashi’s first visit.

Also he took Reki’s shoes off????

Anyway, it’s awkward but it allows the two characters to have this nice little chat about skating. Tadashi, clearly bitter over the way his love of skating ruined his relationship with Adam, tries to convince Reki to quit.

But Reki’s speech about how fun skating is reminds Tadashi of the fun he and Adam used to have together. In the end, Tadashi echoes Joe’s words about “all skaters” (himself included, I bet) being idiots, but seems to concede to Reki’s enthusiasm.

The choice of setting lends itself to a layered reading of this scene. You could sub in “love” for “skating” and it kinda sorta works.

What Tadashi lists off as the detriments of skating are rational points. It’s dangerous, you can’t earn a living off it, good instructors are hard to find, etc. He ignores what skating feels like. Which is the whole appeal.

Similarly, love isn’t rational or logical. There’s no guarantee that anything good will come out of it. Rejection and heartbreak are some of the most painful things anyone can experience. When you’ve had your heart broken, it’s hard to look at a happy new couple and not see two morons headed for inevitable pain. So why bother loving anyone?

Because love is an amazing feeling.

So maybe people are stupid to fall in love/to love skating, but maybe it’s okay to be stupid. Maybe it’s worth it to have had that feeling in your life, even if you wipe out afterwards. I think Tadashi is opening up to this idea. Idk if that means he’s going to back out of racing Adam, though.

Adam’s little remark at the end here is sad, but true for his experience with love. Love has never not been painful/complicated for him so he’s taught himself to embrace those painful elements of love, to be “fired up” by them. The man is truly just one big coping mechanism.

I guess he’s gonna challenge Reki to a beef....I hope Reki says no :/ But the next episode is titled “King VS Nobody” soooo :/// I wanna see an Adam/Tadashi skate before the show ends, and if the next episode is Adam being kicked out of his own damn tournament bc Reki uses the power of friendship on him I won’t get to see that. But the alternative is that Reki gets his ass beat again. Man idk

#sk8 the infinity #adam watch #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #kikuchi tadashi #sk8 meta

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 7/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Frustrated by his physical condition and his lack of connection to the Eye, Jon asks Martin to visit Hill Top Road with him.

***

Chapter 7 of post-canon fix-it is up!

Read on AO3 at link above or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters here.

***

Over the next few days, Jon continued to struggle. He remained insistent on going into the Institute every day, but even with Martin’s encouragement he had trouble finishing entire meals.

“It’s all right,” Martin told him more than once. “I know you’re trying. Just keep trying.”

Jon would nod. If they were at work, he would catch Martin’s hand between his, just below the edge of his desk, and Martin would quietly tell him about his morning. At home, he would lie back on the couch with his head in Martin’s lap. Martin would come up with something to talk about, unrelated to the entities or the archives or anything that had happened to them. He started saving up topics that occurred to him just so he could have them on hand: a movie he remembered, a funny reddit post, a weird bug he found in the stacks. It wasn’t like Jon really cared; he watched Martin talk more than he listened, anyway. He seemed contented, and that was what mattered. Sometimes he was able to eat more afterward, if he didn’t fall asleep.

***

“Are there still more interviews to be done?” Jon asked Martin one morning, late that week, as they were walking to the office.

“I don’t know,” Martin answered. “I imagine there are. I don’t think Tim’s followed up with any since the ones we did. And I think Sasha’s been around the office the whole time.”

Jon nodded.

“Wait.” Martin reached out a hand to stop him; they faced each other on the pavement. “You're not considering doing them, are you?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to do something different.” Jon took Martin by the elbow and urged him to keep walking. Martin sighed, but did as he wanted.

“Is it—” Martin measured his tone very carefully and started over. “Is it because what you’re doing isn’t working?”

The Eye, you mean?” Jon looked up at Martin. “No, that’s not why.”

“But also, it isn’t working. Right? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Jon confirmed. “But that really isn’t it. I’ve… I’ve run out of information. I’m just going further and further back, through anything describing events and people involved in all of it, and it’s pointless. There was nothing here before we came. Nothing real.”

“Yeah?” Martin asked, recalling that he had done most of the talking between them that week. “I assume you’ve looked into—well, let’s start with Jonah Magnus. What was his deal?”

Jon shrugged. “Him, Robert Smirke, Mordechai Lukas—I’ve looked into all of them. They all existed, they were obsessed with the same ideas and concepts, perhaps because of the pull from our dimension… but there was nothing on the other side of those ideas. Not here.”

“I see.” Martin nodded. “And you think the interviews will give you more?”

“Maybe. It’s the only evidence we’ve had of real connections with individuals. You met Oliver Banks. Tim’s discussions with his police contacts—it was Callum Brodie, by the way. They won’t officially release his name, but it was easy enough to find on social media.”

“So that’s what you want to do, then—look for avatars?”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “They pose the greatest threat, and I think they require the most—advancement in their patrons.”

Martin considered. “You’ll let me go with you?”

“I won’t even pretend I could manage alone right now,” Jon said. “I could go with Tim, I suppose, but he wouldn’t go if you said no. That means it’s your decision.”

“Jon.” They were coming upon the Institute now, and Martin stopped him one more time. “Can I ask—if you just let go of all this—what would happen?”

“What do you mean? Happen how?”

“To you. What would happen to you? Would you get better? Would you get worse? I know you don’t know, but—what does it feel like?”

Jon considered. “You’re right, I don’t know. But… it also doesn’t matter. I can’t just let go. I need to do what I can to fix it, whatever that might be. Don’t ask me to let it go. Please.”

“All right.” Martin had already assumed the answer would be something like that. “Then we do the interviews.”

“Thank you,” Jon said quietly, as Martin put his arm around him before walking into the building.

***

Martin asked Sasha if they could do the interviews. She seemed surprised, but was agreeable enough, probably because Martin was the one doing the asking—it provided an implicit indication that Jon was feeling well enough to go, and Martin felt a bit like he had lied to her just by asking. Tim was a little more skeptical when Martin asked him for the contact forms. He ignored Martin and addressed Jon directly across the office.

“You know, Martin and I could still go.”

“No,” Jon said. “It’s too—it’s better if I’m there.”

“You sure?” Tim tried again. “Look, I don’t really know what the issue is, but if you’re worried about Martin, don’t be. Frankly, he’s doing much better than you are, and we’ve—”

“That’s not it. I just want to be there myself.”

Now Tim looked back at Martin and raised an eyebrow, and Martin shrugged.

“All right then,” Tim said, and reached for a drawer on his desk. “There’s a couple that will bring you down toward Crawley, if I remember, and a couple more that are spread out up north.”

“Can I look at them?” Jon said. “I’d like to see what they’re regarding.”

“Knock yourself out,” Tim said, handing them to Martin.

There were no names they recognized, and Jon didn’t think any of them looked particularly promising, but Martin was able to get ahold of two of them and set up appointments for that afternoon. The discussions were frustrating for everyone involved. For one thing, Jon hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that things went very differently when people weren’t compelled to tell their stories, and Martin had to keep reminding him to be patient. For the same reason, it was hard to tell what was what; one of the stories might have been legitimately Corruption-related, but it could have also been a very bad case of health code violations combined with an active imagination.

“How did you know before if they were real or not?” Martin asked, as they were headed back on the train. “Like, in the beginning?”

Jon leaned back in the seat next to him with his eyes closed. “Well, when they were written down, there was the fact that I couldn’t record them except on the—on the tapes.”

“Right.” Martin frowned. “Obviously we’re not doing that again, but maybe we could try recording on our phones or something and seeing if it works?”

Jon gave a slight nod of his head. “Maybe. We don’t know if it will be the same, though. We don’t really know why that was. Maybe it was all Web, from the beginning.”

“True.” Martin turned it over some more. “Well, when you were talking to people directly how did you know?”

“I just did,” Jon sighed. “I didn’t think of it as anything more than a feeling until later.”

“And you couldn’t tell today?”

“No. Not even a hint.” Martin was relieved to hear it, although he opted not to share that with Jon.

They rode in silence for a while. Martin was surprised to see Jon had not fallen asleep when he checked on him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Jon opened his eyes and turned to Martin, then to the back of the seat in front of him. Martin prompted him again.

“Jon? What are you thinking?”

“Come to Hill Top Road with me.”

“What?”

“Come to Hill Top Road with me,” Jon repeated.

“Why?”

“I need to know if I can feel anything there.”

“Why there?”

“When we came here—” Jon stopped and thought for a moment. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s where the separation—the barrier between us and them—would be the weakest.”

“Then it sounds like we shouldn’t go there.” Martin turned in his seat, and Jon finally looked at him. “It kind of seems we should actively avoid going there. Like, ever.”

Jon took Martin’s hand in his. “I just need to know. You—you could be right. About the Eye. Maybe it’s not coming back for me. Maybe it’s done with me.”

Martin breathed out slowly, a careful, measured exhalation. “And what if it is done with you?”

“Then…” Jon paused again. “Then I need to accept it.”

“And if it isn’t?”

A little bit of life came back into his voice. “Then it isn’t, and like I’ve been saying, it’s better to know and get on with it.”

Martin wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept silent.

“Come to Hill Top Road with me,” Jon entreated him again. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Martin exclaimed loudly, and a woman two seats up across the aisle looked back at them. “Oh—sorry. Sorry.”

He waited until she had smiled and turned back to try again, more quietly. “Tomorrow? Really?”

“Yes. In the morning, first thing. Tell Sasha we have therapy.”

“If we go…” Martin sighed. “If we go and you don’t find what you’re looking for, will you—will you try to let it go? I don’t mean everything, we can talk to Tim and Sasha, we can do whatever you want, just—will you try to live without it?”

Jon considered, a troubled look in his eyes.

“I’m not asking for a promise, Jon—I don’t want one. I’m just asking what you’ll do.”

Jon took a deep breath. “I’d like to try. I think I would try.”

“All right.” Jon had won. Martin squeezed his hand, more to reassure himself than anything. “I’ll go with you. Tomorrow morning. I’ll tell them when we get back.”

“Thank you.”

Then next time Martin checked on him, Jon had fallen asleep.

***

Jon’s alarm went off the next morning right around sunrise, before Martin’s usual waking time. Martin was surprised by how much energy he seemed to have; he wanted it to be because he was feeling better, but he suspected Jon was running on fumes and willpower.

“Not going to shower first?” he asked, when Jon stepped out of bed and immediately went to the closet.

“No,” Jon answered. “I’d like to leave as soon as we can.”

“Well, you are going to have breakfast,” Martin grumbled, sitting up and trying to blink away the sleep.

“Martin—”

“That’s not debatable. I couldn’t get you to eat anything last night.” They had ended up taking a cab back from the train station, and Martin had worried for a moment that he was going to have to carry Jon up the stairs. “Use some of that energy to—go pour yourself some cereal or something.”

“Fine.” Jon started to leave the bedroom. “Do you want anything?”

“Nope.” Martin groaned as he started to stand up.

“Well, if I have to, then you should—”

“I ate dinner last night. And part of someone else’s dinner that I didn’t want to go to waste. And it is way too early right now, and—”

“Fine. I get it. I’m going.”

After Martin was dressed, he joined Jon to find him scraping at the bottom of a bowl of cereal.

“How full was that?” he asked, suspicious.

“Overflowing.” Jon regarded him from his seat on the couch.

“Really?”

“No. I don’t know, normal?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Martin sighed. “I’m still really worried, ok?”

Jon softened his gaze. “No, I’m sorry. I’m—I’m nervous. I just want to get this done.” He put one last spoonful into his mouth, and it made chewing and swallowing look extremely distasteful. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be,” Martin said. “Let’s go.”

The train ride out was long, and they had to switch to a bus line in Oxford. They barely spoke, but it wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable silence. Part of it was probably the early hour, although Jon seemed more awake and alert than Martin had seen him in days. He was probably anxious about what they would find; Martin was, at least, so it was easy to imagine Jon was feeling the same.

When they arrived, they stood together, side by side, staring at the front door. The house that occupied the property was the same as he had imagined it from when the other archive staff had visited it before the apocalypse. Apparently built as student housing, no one had ever actually moved in. The front porch was covered in cobwebs. Martin broke the silence they had maintained during the walk from the bus station.

“I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” said Jon.

“Yes, but—I mean I don’t want to go in.”

“I understand. You can wait for me out here.”

“No, that—” Martin looked down at Jon, who continued to stare at the house. “I don’t want us to go in. Either of us.”

They let the silence take over again. It went on long enough that Martin wondered if they could just stay on the front lawn indefinitely, if he didn’t say anything; it seemed like it might be the most reasonable option. Unfortunately, Jon did eventually speak again.

“Martin, I really do understand if you—”

“No. If you’re going in, I’m—I’m going too.”

“I am sorry.” Jon started to step toward the house, but Martin caught him by the arm.

“Wait. Where is—where is Annabelle? Where has she been?”

“What?” Jon asked, turning to look at him.

“I know we haven’t talked about it, and maybe this is a bad time to bring it up—but she came here with us, didn’t she? To this dimension.”

“Presumably, yes.”

“Where would she go, if not—if not here? I mean, even without what you said about it—just look at it. It’s got to be crawling with spiders.”

Jon furrowed his brow before responding. “She could be here. It’s possible.”

Martin’s pulse quickened. “Well then—wouldn’t we want to not be here? Isn’t that a good reason to stay out?”

“I’m not concerned.” Jon shrugged, leaving Martin in disbelief.

“Can I ask why not?”

“It’s just a theory, but—” Jon walked a few paces and sat on the front step. “I think—I think the entities are getting stronger, regaining their power, in the order that the fears evolved and separated from one another. The dates I’ve pieced together from Sasha’s notes, the avatars—”

“What?” Martin was dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“Right. When I—after I killed Jonah, there was a, um…”

“A statement?”

“Yes.”

“Of course there was.” Martin shook his head and moved to take a seat next to Jon.

“I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“It’s all right.” It still hurt every time he remembered Jon had gone up to the tower without him, and Jon knew it. “Go on.”

“They were born in our dimension. They grew there, as one being at first. Then, as animals and humanity developed and changed, and their fears became more specific, more distinct, so did the entities themselves. The Hunt, the End, the Dark—they were first.”

“I see.” Martin thought. “And we’ve seen Oliver Banks and now Callum Brodie. What about—”

“I suspect we want to avoid anything having to do with Daisy, if we can.”

Martin’s eyes unintentionally drifted to the scar that still stood out vividly on Jon’s throat before he caught himself. “And where does the Eye fit in?”

“Soon. If I’m right.”

“Ok.” Martin now realized there had been a deeper layer to Jon’s recent desperation. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I honestly thought it wasn’t important. But now—you brought up Annabelle, and—”

“Right. So where does the Web fit into this theory?”

Jon considered. “If I’m right—if I’m right—we have time. If she is here, she’s likely much weaker than I am. She would have more to fear from us than the other way around.”

Martin sighed. “Any chance we can just burn the place?”

“Tempting.” Jon grinned just enough for Martin to see it. “In the long run, though—”

“Yeah, yeah—it would probably just make things worse.”

“Shall we?” Jon asked, starting to rise to his feet.

“If you have to.”

“I do.”

The front door gave way at a light touch; the knob and deadbolt were completely useless. It seemed like the sort of place that had been broken into so many times that the owners had simply stopped replacing them. The inside of the house was at least as covered with webs and dust as the front porch.

“Well,” Martin said, “I hate this.”

“I don’t love it.” Jon reflexively reached for Martin’s hand. “Come on.”

They walked further into the depths of the house, which was quite large. There were multiple small rooms, which made sense for student housing, and a larger sitting room; it looked like there was a kitchen in the very back. He was so busy looking up to make sure he didn’t accidentally walk into anything, that he jumped about a foot when Jon stomped his heel against the floor.

“Jon, why would you—”

“Spider,” Jon said.

“Oh. Carry on, then.”

“Remember when you used to get upset with me for—”

“Don’t.”

Jon squeezed his hand, and Martin had the odd feeling that he was somehow more comfortable now than he had been for a while. They looked around them from what appeared to be roughly the middle of the floorplan.

“Should we go upstairs, or—”

“Look,” Jon cut him off, and pointed to the floor. Beneath the dirt and footprints of previous trespassers, Martin could see an unmistakable pattern in the wood stain that ran across multiple boards, beyond the edge of the room they were currently in. It gave the appearance of a long, dark, jagged crack. He may not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking for it, but he couldn’t see anything else now.

“Do you think that’s—where it is?” Martin asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jon started to pull Martin toward it, but Martin stayed where he was.

“Do you really have to stand right on it?”

“Just give me a moment.” Jon slipped his hand out of Martin’s before he had a chance to protest. Martin held his breath and gave him five seconds, then ten seconds.

“Anything?”

“Wait.”

Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. He was counting each of them.

“Jon—”

“Wait. Please.” Jon was growing tenser, more anxious.

A minute.

“Jon, I don’t—”

“I told you to wait.” Jon snapped at him this time.

The momentary sting was quickly replaced by concern; that just wasn’t like Jon. He bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he insisted on interrupting him, tried to convince him to leave, Jon might not feel like he really gave it enough of a chance—or worse, he might blame Martin for the failed attempt to find whatever power he was seeking. He’d be too kind to say anything, of course, but they would both know.

He decided to continue waiting, as long as he could make himself. He pressed his hand to his mouth as a reminder. The house was so quiet; it occurred to him he should have been able to hear sounds from outside, but something about the place seemed to be swallowing them up before they could reach them.

In the stunted silence, Martin had the sudden feeling they were not alone.

Before he could make up his mind to disrupt him again, Jon spoke.

“There’s nothing,” he said meekly.

“What?” Martin asked.

“There’s nothing,” Jon said again. “I don’t feel anything. I really thought—” He cut himself off, his expression a mix of loss and confusion and sadness, and Martin was filled with a deep, distressing pity for him.

“Hey,” he said, crossing to Jon, forgetting his trepidation toward the mark on the floor. It seemed meaningless now, nothing more than an ugly accident at the lumber factory. He pulled Jon into his arms. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll figure it out.”

Jon didn’t answer, but he allowed Martin to hold him, eventually letting the weight of his head fall against Martin’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said quietly.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “Part of me is relieved, I’ll admit, but I don’t want you to be miserable, Jon. Honestly, I don’t. We’ll do whatever we need to do to help make this better, ok?”

Jon fell silent again, and in that silence Martin remembered the feeling he’d had just before Jon had spoken.

“Jon—can we get out of here? Sit outside? We can talk there. On the porch, even. I just have this feeling like—like we’re being watched.”

“What?” Jon pulled away enough to look up at his face.

“Not like—watched, I don’t think that even feels like anything. I just mean—like, regular being watched. If that’s a thing.”

Jon concentrated for a moment, but quickly gave up. “All right. We can go.”

Martin felt a second wave of relief wash over him. It’s over, he thought to himself, at least for the time being. He released Jon from his grasp, turning him gently toward the door—the faster they could get outside, back to the fresh air, the better for both of them.

A few steps, though, and Jon stumbled. Martin, instinctively reaching to support him, assumed at first that he had stepped wrong or tripped over something—but that wasn’t right. Jon was heavy in his arms, and Martin nearly fell himself trying to stop Jon from hitting the ground.

Ok. Martin collected his thoughts as quickly as possible as he gently set Jon down. He’s fainted. That wasn’t great, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected, given how he had been feeling and his inability to eat. I just need to give him a minute and he’ll come around.

That wasn’t right either, though, Martin quickly realized, because Jon had stopped breathing.

Shit, shit, shit. He had taken a CPR class many years ago, but he hadn’t thought about it in almost as long. What were the steps? He knew Jon wasn’t choking, and he remembered something about checking for a pulse, although he didn’t remember if you were supposed to do that right away or—

Do something.

He reached for Jon’s neck, pressing two fingers against his carotid artery. He waited.

I’m doing it wrong.

He readjusted. Still nothing.

“Shit.” Panic started to well up inside him again. Breaths? Chest compressions?

Call for help.

He pulled out his phone and started to dial, but quickly realized he had no reception. He held it up, moving it around, even standing again to see if he could get a signal, but no matter where he moved he couldn’t get a single bar of service. He thought about going outside to try there, but couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Jon alone in this place.

Chest compressions.

He knelt next to Jon, placing one hand on top of the other the way he thought he remembered. He pressed the heel of his palm against Jon’s sternum, just inches away from the scar he had put there only months ago.

Don’t.

The scar where he had driven a knife through muscle and maybe bone—he didn’t think it was supposed to be so easy to do that, but the cracking sound—

Don’t, not now.

—the cracking sound and then suddenly it had been so much easier, the knife went in and there was that single gasp of pain, and then he’d pulled the knife out because he couldn’t stand to leave it in, but all the blood came with it—

I killed him.

Jon was dying. The tape unspooled; the tower crumbled around them, and Martin held on. Jon lay dead in his arms as the world disappeared around them, and he held on. He held on for so long.

God, it hurts.

“Martin—”

I’m so sorry.

“Martin, let go.”

Martin opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. His pulse was racing.

“Martin.”

He was sitting on the floor with Jon—Jon needed him to let go. He did, and Jon immediately took a deep breath. Martin still couldn’t quite remember where they were.

“You were dead.”

“No,” Jon answered, still breathing hard. “No, I just blacked out. I think I’m ok.”

“No. I killed you. There was—there was the knife—where did it—”

Jon, understanding, reached for Martin’s face. “Look at me. We’re at Hill Top Road. We came here together.”

“What?” Martin tried to remember, and eventually the details of their current situation came back to him. He looked around at the house. Jon was so pale. “Oh god. Jon, are you all right?”

“I think so. I think I just blacked out.”

“You weren’t breathing. I swear you weren’t breathing, and I couldn’t find a pulse—”

“Are you sure? Or were you…”

“I—I think so?” Although now that he thought about it, Martin realized he couldn’t be completely sure. “Maybe?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m—I’m ok now. I’m breathing.”

Martin looked around again. He hated this place. “Let’s leave. Please. Right now.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

It was harder to help Jon to his feet than either of them expected. His energy from earlier in the day had vanished almost entirely, and he leaned hard against Martin as they walked toward the door. The porch, which had previously seemed as dreadful as the house, now felt like a sanctuary as the sun streamed onto it through the support columns. It was almost unbelievable that nothing stopped them from reaching it, and Martin collapsed onto the wooden deck as soon as they did.

He made sure Jon had a relatively comfortable spot to lie, and then dragged himself to the steps, pulling his knees into his chest and blocking the light from his eyes with one arm. He stayed like that until he’d relaxed enough to reach into his pocket for his phone again. He had a little reception out here, at least. He scrolled through his contacts until he’d pulled up Sasha’s number.

“Hi Martin,” she answered cheerily. “Everything going all right?”

“Sasha, hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Listen, I’m sorry to do this—”

“Martin, I can barely hear you. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah—it is. Mostly.” He was too miserable to think up an actual lie. “Jon’s not feeling well today. I think—I think we’ll need the whole day off.”

“Did you say—is Jon ok?”

“He’s—” He looked at Jon where he lay in a patch of sunlight, eyes closed, taking shallow breaths. “He’s—I don’t know. He’s not great.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything?”

“No. We’ll manage.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but he had no idea what kind of help he could even ask for.

“You’re breaking up, but—please keep me updated? I’ll check in later.”

“All right.”

Martin ended the call.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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brawltogethernow · 4 years

Text

So the problem starts, the problem starts when Kaine agrees to go to a bake sale.

This little old lady put her hand on his face, see? What are little old ladies doing putting their hands on his face? Doesn’t she know he could snap her neck with a finger twitch?

“You are a good Catholic boy,” she says. “I know one when I see one,” she interrupts when he opens his mouth to protest, though he wasn’t yet decided which descriptor to zero in on first. “You are always at confession.”

Kaine may, possibly, have been using confession as a kind of no-papers-required stand-in for therapy. Or maybe a no-blood-shed-Aracely-isn’t-glaring-at-me stand-in for hurting himself.

He has enough brain cells not to say this. Barely.

“Thank you,” he says instead, and tries to pull away.

She leans with him. Her hands remain on his face.

“But I never see you anywhere else!” she says. “You must come to the bake sale. It’s on Friday.”

“Okay,” says Kaine’s mouth entirely without his input. He was born with an inbuilt structural weakness against little old battle axes. He attributes this to the ghost echoes of Peter Parker’s idyllic childhood.

“So what are we making?” demands Aracely as soon as he returns to the presidential suite. “Lemon bars? People on TV make lemon bars. What is a lemon bar?”

Sometimes, Kaine is more glad than anything that she's always eavesdropping on the inside of his head. Often, he’d cut off a limb, hell, all his limbs, to keep her out. He'd grow a bunch of spider legs again and then cut those off. He’s not sure exactly where this falls between the two extremes. But definitely closer to the negative side.

“Oh,” she says as if he answered, tipping her head. She’s turned around on the couch and sat up on her knees and braced her arms on the back of it to see him better. “You don’t know either. That’s okay, we can Google it.”

So they burn the kitchenette a little bit.

"We can rebuild it," says Arcacely. "We have the technology."

He definitely leaves her in front of the TV too much. But what's the alternative, bringing her with him more?

"Yes, it is," says Aracely like he spoke out loud. "And that is but one more reason why you should do that."

"Hell no," says Kaine, and books it out of the suite fast enough that he can pretend he didn't hear her shout, "Swear jar!"

He finds the maid who most often handles their rooms. He hands her a stack of hundreds for her trouble, then gives her a couple more because he can tell the exchange has scared her. He tells her the hotel can bill him the damages. And then he asks her how to get to the hotel kitchen.

Aracely appears, out of breath, as he finishes bribing his way into use of a stove. Her ability to do this is one reason among many why he doesn't own a cellphone.

"You could have just asked them," she chirps, methodically going through the room and opening, examining, and then closing every drawer. It's empty right now, so there's no one to stop her. "I think they would have just let us use the kitchen. The people here like you."

"No, they don't," corrects Kaine. "And who cares? It's not like we need to save money." He can just go hit more human traffickers if he runs low. And since he spends a lot of his time doing this even when he's not running low, he is in absolutely no danger of running low. He's pretty sure he could buy a yacht, or a politician.

"Success!" proclaims Aracely, and when Kaine turns around she's holding a clear plastic tub of brown powder over her head. There's a piece of paper laminated to the side with text printed on it that might be a recipe. "Brownie mix!"

"That is not food," declares Aracely of their creation. "No one is going to buy that."

Kaine leans over to examine it. It's kind of...grainy.

"Brownie sand," says Aracely. "Could we start a new trend?"

Kaine sighs. They should have known trying to quarter the banquet-sized serving on the tub was a bad idea. They have clearly miscalculated on some ephemeral measurement level. They've angered the baking gods.

"Are there baking gods?" inquires Aracely.

"Why don't you ask the Catholics," says Kaine, and tugs her away to tip the cleaning staff again.

“This is good too,” says Aracely, presiding over the storebought tubs of those weird shitty grocery store cookies that are mostly icing that they brought instead.

“I don’t even know how I got here,” says Kaine. “What are we doing here?”

His nose twitches. He’s not sure if one of them still smells like burnt lemons or if he’s just imagining it. He does know that he’s avoiding anything lemony for a long time.

The woman who got him into this sidles up to them shortly after they set up, looking very pleased to see him there.

"Always good to see fresh faces," she says, and winks at him.

She continues to talk in a way that stays steadily one step to the left of him feeling like he has a firm grasp on the conversation. Possibly that's because he's overthinking things and doubting whether he's correctly interpreting a single word she's saying. What even is "the congregation", in this context?

He looks at Aracely.

She shrugs.

Is it a list. Do you have to complete a set of tasks to qualify. Are there membership cards?

Aracely shrugs a little more beffudledly. Her reeducation via television and following a vigilante around active crime scenes must not have taught her about this.

The bake sale is to raise money to fix the air conditioner. This means that the building is the same temperature inside as it is outside. The best description he can come up with for the response the people in the room are having to the sweltering temperature is "cheerfully miserable".

Other than that it's...weird. Festival-ish? It kind of plucks the strings of memories that don't belong to him of May Parker presiding over neighborhood events with an endlessly gentle iron fist, but it also doesn't. He also kind of feels like he is impersonating someone who is actually supposed to be here. But that's nothing new.

There is a big confused snarl in Kaine's chest made mostly of other people's experiences that he can't even begin to interpret if he pings himself about the concept of "God". He thought that might be a problem if he just walked in here and...socialized.

It is not. No one is asking him about God.

"What do you think about the setup this time?" a woman with a thin mouth and long, spindly fingers demands. Her lipstick is the same shade as Annabelle's hair and her turtleneck suggests a total lack of concern for the wet Houston heat that Kaine finds honestly terrifying.

"The--?" he starts to answer.

"It's definitely for the best they didn't decide to hold it in the basement again," she continues, saving him from answering her not-really-a-question. "I mean, why? The lobby has all these lovely windows."

She gestures. Kaine nods along, his adrenaline spiking more than it ever has for any interaction with a werewolf or a most dangerous game type with a knife.

Thus follows a brief interaction where Kaine hums or nods when appropriate, and in return learns that she's very invested in the greater accessibility of the lobby, she plays piano on a volunteer basis for the church, and she knows he's "one of Marie's injections of fresh blood" but doesn't seem interested on calling him out for not belonging here.

"Do come to the community breakfast tomorrow," she finishes, buys two cookies, and leaves.

The emotional aftermath is akin to having weathered a near-death experience.

Aracely has found an older couple to speak Spanish with and is chirping away at the same blistering clip typical of her English, but with a more fluid cadence that betrays it's at least one of her native languages. The in-his-head thing doesn't really go both ways, so he has no idea what they're talking about. Probably something he'd regret knowing. What if she is asking them about baking gods.

A guy in a priest...collar...thing...who Kaine hopes desperately is not the one he sometimes monopolizes, or, failing that, does not recognize him, has sprouted up to make polite conversation.

"Not a bad turnout today, eh?" he says.

"Good thing they moved it back into the lobby," tries Kaine.

The priest beams at him like he's repeated the secret code.

"So true," he says.

Kaine is totally mastering churches. This is great. He bets if it were Peter in his place he would have started a fight by now.

"I think that went well," says Aracely after they've retreated to the suite and she's curled back up on the couch with a bowl of...something. She stabs the contents of the bowl with a spoon. "We should definitely do that again. Socializing with your community is almost as important as scaring away all its drug lords!"

"They're not my community," says Kaine. Not just the Catholic church a few blocks away from the hotel, which he still thinks he prefers from inside an anonymous guilt box. Houston is not Kaine's community. He does not have, does not get to have, a community. (Aracely rolls her eyes in an incredibly teenagery way, projecting exasperation either at his answer or his train of thought.) "What are you eating?"

She salutes him with her spoon. "Brownie sand! It's very edible!"

"Ichh," says Kaine.

"It's good for you!" Aracely declares. She looks dubiously down at her bowl, and corrects, "It's not actively bad for you!"

"No more chocolate," says Kaine. "No more lemons. No."

"But maybe some more bake sales?"

"...Maybe."

"Yes!"

On AO3 (where the title and summary can be considered a bonus gag). Last year the GG Discord was talking about how the Marvel wiki categorizes characters by religious affiliation, which led to questioning why Kaine Parker was listed as Catholic. I reported back several months later after I read Scarlet Spider that it was because he started going to confession after being thrown through a church wall, which prompted gelpenss to pitch the mental image of Kaine showing up to one of the less cinematic things people do in churches.

#kaine parker #aracely penalba #scarlet spider #spiderman #spidey #marvel #w #fic #this corner of the fandom is dime-sized lol #i'll be real that i stopped editing this when i saw i'd accidentally authored a story with a church of exactly 1666 words like #that's too funny i'm sorry

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mka1098 · 4 years

Text

My Love is God

My Love Is God

Veronica x JD modern AU

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing; death; murder; depictions of violence and blood; mentions of sociopathy and insanity; sex

I have a couple of things to explain about this AU because it’s a bit confusing. This is also gonna be a mess since I’m trying something new here.

Backstory: JD and Veronica met in the lunchroom of their senior year when JD moved to her school. They met in a 7-11 and he was drawn to her and she didn’t push him away. They made close friends and he was so utterly in love with her. JD admitted his family problems to her and a lot of the deranged thoughts in his head. Veronica loved him a lot so she calmed him down and took him to therapy. It took time but he began to control his bloodlust and anger issues. Being 18, he moved out of his father’s house and found an apartment nearby Veronica’s home. JD became a normal teenager, more troubled than most but never wanted to do anything like bomb the school again. Veronica was his lifeline. She had saved him and helped him and he knew that. He fought his dangerous tendencies and continued going to therapy. One day, Veronica got into a huge fight with her best friend, Heather Chandler, who wanted her to get with one of the college boys at her party. It ends with them no longer being friends and Veronica humiliates Heather but reveals that Heather was too scared to even get close to kissing the college guy she was with. Heather is angered by this and hatches a plan to kill Veronica; she succeeds. And JD has just found out.

Go easy on me please; it’s my first time writing present tense and I’m very lost

My Love Is God

Heather Chandler hums to the mirror in her locker. Powdering her face during the passing period between the 4th and 5th period had become a regular affair. Her face got so oily; what a treacherous look would it be if people saw her face shiny? Biting her lip, Heather adjusts the red scrunchie in her hair. Ram has previously mussed it up in class and if not for her reputation; she’d rip hima new asshole.

“Heather.” A voice calls behind her. Her eyes roll back in annoyance; who the hell thought that they were good enough to address her?

“What in god’s name, do you want.” She says with bite in her voice. Her view catches on a darkened teen-boy. His long trenchcoat looked solely out of fashion and terrible for the nice summer weather. Her nose crinkled at his look. Face nearly covered up to the eyes, the boy stares directly at her. His dark brown eyes narrow into slits.

“I’d like to take this outside.” He says with a dead tone. Heather’s eyes roll. What was the point of entertaining some idiot’s needs?

“Look, I don’t give a fuck about what you like. I have people to attend to, so unless you have an upper. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” She snaps. His expression remains unfazed, much to her annoyance. He was supposed to cower and fade into the background. What a \\\ douche. She fluffs her ponytail and steps out away from her locker.

“If that’s what it will take.” He calls after her. Heather spins around, glaring at him harshly. If this kid was kidding, she was going to end him. Heather puts out her hand, accepting the offer. “One the condition… we take this outside.” He continues. His stare was burning into hers. Heather inwardly scoffs at that, she had a harsh look and didn’t appreciate anyone matching it.

Heather breaths in but finally caves. She was fresh out and in need. “Fine.”

The teen doesn’t say much to her on the way; he was taking long, stiff strides. His arms and hands were clenched into fists. Heather had become a master of reading body language. This boy had a plan, but clearly, was unsure about it. Heather spoke not a word. Her eyes scan over him like a hawk. His appearance did merit a reliable product, that was for certain. That terrible coat would be great for cover.

“Where are you taking me?” Heather demands. It had registered that she had not a clue his name minutes prior however, she knew better than to act like a fool and ask like a child. “I have places to be after this. Do not, make me late. You will regret up.” Heather says haughtly, giving no empty promises.

He stops suddenly, their surroundings were empty streets and a 7-11 in only the visible future. Heather growls harshly under her breath. “You want to know where we are? We’re here. Where it all began.” He spoke in a low tone. It was slightly raspy and very attractive if she were to be honest. Heather’s perfected blonde brow rose.

“I know your plan. I catch on quick. I get it, I’m hot, I’m a heather. I’m the Heather. If you want a quickie I take them in a closet. You’re just extra.” Heather says in a cackling tone. If only the other Heather were here; they’d love the show of embarrassing a loner.

The boy’s expression began to morphe, not into embarrassment, not into fluster, not even impression. Instead, his hand reaches up to the hood and it tugs the fabric down behind him. “I’m not interested in fucking you.” He says in a deadpan tone. Heather laughs in a wicked way. This boy was stupid, sure but amusing as well.

“That’s cute.” She says, putting on a seductive smirk. The boy scowled at her.

It was now she could see his features; somewhere in her mind, there was a face match. Perhaps his father was a movie star? His hair was messy and long; skater boy hot indeed. His jaw, sharp as ever. Wide nose, but not bad. His face sure matched his voice.

Heathers tsks approvingly. “I get what I want though. Don’t hold back.” She winks at him. He frowns harder.

“I’d like to talk to you about someone.”

Heather licks her lip. “Enlighten me.” Her voice having now a delicate flare to it.

The boy glares at her. “Veronica Sawyer.” He says in a harsh tone.

Oh. Her. She was a nuisance, to say the least. Heather sighs heavily and rolls her eyes. “Do we have to? Her funeral was last month. It’s kinda overrated.” She says mindlessly. His face tightens.

“You were the last to see her alive.” He accuses her. Heather’s eyes roll again; God, why he about Veronica? Heather was a hot bitch and in front of him. Besides, Sawyer was being a pain in the ass, not the mention a huge snitch.

“Not really The hospital medics took her in. They didn’t let me in.” Her lips purse into a pout. “It was unfortunate. I tried to warn her from stepping into the road. The cars were going oh so fast.”

The boy snarled at her. “Don’t act so innocent. You hated her. You were friends and then you hated her.”

Heather gasps dramatically. Sure it was suspicious but she had been playing it off so well! “How dare you! Do you even know how traumatic that was? Watching even ex, your best friend die! The therapy has finally stopped my self-blame.” Heather defends.

“Don’t even try and think that act works on me.” He growls.

Heather let out a high-pitched sobbed. “Why do you-”

“WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” He shouts at her. Heather steps back in shook. That was unexpected.

“I know you killed her.” a finger shoves into her vision. “I know because she was so scared of going. But she went anyway because goddamnit she just had to see the best in people and hope for the best. She went because she wanted things to be just a bit more okay with you guys. But she was so scared, she knew you were going to do something; I knew you were gonna do something. You pushed her in front of that car. And I know you cackled like a fucking witch while doing it.” The boy’s mouth sprouts word afterword; his fury was increasing more and more in the most obvious way.

Heather racks her brain. Who was he? Why did he talk to Veronica? That girl only had two other friends after Heather let go of… oh… ohhhhhh.

“So what.” She says with danger. “You as her pretty little boyfriend is now going to cry about it? Get over it, she was no big thing. I’m sure the sex wasn’t that good to miss it. We’re all long past; catch up.” Heather steps forward, her intimidation factor went higher and higher up. “Calm your tits JD. No one else is worried. Learn to read a room.”

JD’s face explodes into angry. “You dumb bitch. You’ve never cared for a single person in your life, have you? Well, let me tell you this. We were in love. So in love. She was the best person on this shithole we call earth. Veronica saw only the best and fixed anything she could. She never turned away from someone who needed help. She fixed me. She stayed with me. And you took the brightest light away.”

Heather let out a huge laugh. “Wow, dramatic. Definitely her little plaything. Love is overrated. She’s not anything anymore. Get past yourself and find a new slut.” She says with amusement. “Be glad she died painlessly. That was the best gift I could give her. Well, painless after she was dragged across the street, but still.” Her laugh fluffed and sugared; JD didn’t seem to apparatus it. How rude.

“She hated you. She pitied you. She almost wanted to take you to therapy like me. But in the end, she decided you weren’t even worth the effort.” JD says darkly. Heather’s expression quickly shut down. Had she heard him correctly.

“Very funny joke.” She attempts her easy-going tone of voice but the slip-up didn’t pass him by. His mouth twists into a grin.

“Denial. Now you know how it feels. Rejection, you’re getting a lot of frists today. Congratulations princess of the fucking school.” JD’s voice echoes all around her. Coated in a thick layer of sarcasm and condensation, he spits it out at her. “Veronica felt sorry for you. That’s why she joined your little club. Sorry for the little princess who no one really cared about. She thought, maybe I can help her. But you want to know what happened? She met you and realized… what mattered? Certainly not you. Why else did you think she took Duke to the doctors? Duke was meant enough to the world to be fixed and now she’s all brand new. Mcnamara got a personality, kinda. But Veronica thought anyone worth it, was. Too bad that wasn’t you.” His wicked smirk sears her eyes.

“You’re bullshit,” Heather growls. He laughs; the sound is demented.

“Am I? Or am I right?” He continues his speech. “My Veronica wanted to help people. She did. She helped me, she saved me. She saved Martha, Duke, everyone. Just not you. You’re not going anywhere. Everyone knows… don’t you?”

His words pound into her head. Like in a small tunnel, they echo and get louder. “Shut up.” She snaps weakly. Her ears were about to bleed. Her head began to scream. How long had it been going on? The looks; the pitying looks? The laughs, the condescending laughs that she should have been the one making. She was the queen of the school; she was going to the top of the world. Did everyone think she’d melt to the bottom? “Shut up!” JD’s voice didn’t stop. Their pace; increased. The volume; skyward.

“Veronica would have been here to tell me to stop; to tell me to go home. She would have said, breath a little and remember me. Her hand would have touched my shoulder and slowly she would walk me home and talk about anything she could do to help. She would have cleared my mind, given me my meds, and sang a song terribly to ground me. Veronica would have been here. But she’s not. Actually, even if was alive, she’d wouldn’t do anything of that. She’d probably dance around with me with a smile on her face saying, babe you’re doing great..” JD’s voice became mixed with wicked, deranged laughter. Like her own evil cackles, but much, much worse. The insane glint in his eyes was terrifying.

She sucks in a breath; one final one to perceive her dignity, her pride. “Veronica this. Veronica that. For the love of god, she’s DEAD! She doesn’t matter anymore, you fucking jac- oof” Heather fell forward. Had he punched her in the stomach? What a weirdo! Heather went to take in a breath, only to find she couldn’t. What the fuck? The pain was there in her body; it was growing exponentially fast. Her eyes trailed down and oh- oh- oh holy mother of fucking shit!

“DID YOU FUC-” She not longer had the ability to speak; not when there was a knife sticking out of her body. JD’s eyes stare down the crumbling girl.

His face, wide with a grin.

His hands, perfectly clean.

His insanity bared itself to the world.

“You fucking psychopath.” She growls her last words. The red liquid was leaving her body fast.

JD remains unfazed. His deaden look, his empathy free eyes. “Sociopathic tendencies, actually. Diagnosed. They’re actually not that dangerous. This? This the anger-management issue at work.” He smiles. “This is what it feels like on the other side of the killing.” He crouches down to meet her face to face. Heather musters the strength to growl.

“What do you... want me to say? Dear diary? My teenage angst bullsh- bullshit now has a body count?” She snarls back. JD laughs.

“No.” His voice, dark as ever. “You’ve never loved a person in your life clearly. And no one has ever loved you, not a surprise there.” He stands up straight, looming like a darkened villain. “Let me tell you something. I love Veronica Sawyer. She was going to be Veronica Dean. I love her. More than anything in this fucking shit-world. I’ll worship her till the end of time. We had the strongest love in the universe. She was a goddess; you shouldn’t have killed her.”

Heather’s eyes roll for the last time. “Dear god, this whole love shit you’re trying to pull on me is really annoying the last minutes of my death” She voices drily. JD crouches down to her again, lifting her chin with a rough tug.

“Our love was so strong; it could have killed dinosaurs. I’ll settle for killing you though.” He threw down her face aggressively. The blood letched out to the ground. She scowls for the last time.

“We could have made a pretty good murder couple.” She comments. JD laughs and steps away, removing black gloves to shove in his pocket. “Dear God, just kill me now.” Heather expresses haughtily.

JD laughs darkly. “Right you are my dear. Veronica and I… our love was god; it could have killed worlds. But she’s gone now. I’m left. So yes. My love is god.” Heather’s eyes began to feel heavy; was he slipping away farthing into the distance or was she dying faster? This was it wasn’t it? She grimaces.

“My love is god. It has killed you. Isn’t that just beautiful?”

Okay, I know it seems like I made Veronica seem like a Mary Sue and JD as this romantic guy. Let me explain things now that I have finished the story.

Veronica hated Heather C and after helping JD, she started helping other people but she chose not to help Heather C who clearly has problems

Veronica was actually kinda okay with the murder. There was nowhere to put this and I briefly mentioned it, sorta at least, but if she didn’t like the person she was fine with JD killing them. She wanted to curb JD’s bloodlust, but she had accepted it as part of him and never was fully like THIS IS WRONG. As JD said, she would have laughed with him as he killed Heather C.

Veronica was also kinda manipulative. I didn’t know where to put this but basically, Veronica started to isolate Heather without her even knowing. She’s not a Mary Sue, I swear it’s just not a long story

Heather C. had a lot of clear mental issues that Veronica literally just ignored and used to her advantage. She has such narcissistic behaviors, Veronica was able to get people to turn on her all while she thought she was the queen

People stopped caring about Heather C. Like they basically just made fun of her and were sarcastic to her. But with all of her mental issues and stuff, it twisted in her mind to make them think they were worshipping her. People shot her dirty looks or laughed at her, but she didn’t notice that.

Heather D. got help for her bulimia because of Veronica. She thus was given kindness and was not a huge bitch

Heather M. also became less of a bitch. She wasn’t one before, it was just she followed Heather C. around too much. Veronica helped her.

Martha had Veronica back and it helped her feel like she had a true friend and ended up saving her from her depression

VERONICA IS STILL NOT AN ANGEL I REALIZE THAT’S HOW IT SOUNDS

JD is possessive and Veronica has learned to live with it. It’s kinda unhealthy but not dangerous to her so that’s why she puts up with it. It’s directed towards other people

JD praises Veronica. She is the only thing in his life. She’s his mildly unhealthy but weirdly good fixation

JD is adamant he and Veronica will end up together. There is nothing else. It will happen in his mind. His head is still a little twisted, though better than before. He’s not trying to kill for baby reasons now. He’d kill for Veronica and that’s basically it

Veronica’s parents do not like JD but deal with him for her

Heather C. invited Veronica to a girl’s trip to bond a bit and make-up, then she pushed her into a street. Veronica didn’t want to go but she was too trusting and nice, like how she was in the movie and musical n trusting JD

JD goes on to flee the town and Heather C. Is discovered to be dead at the end of the school day

Now, I’m not totally sure what this is. It was an idea in my head and I needed it out. It’s not very good, It’s not the level of gore and blood I think my honestly messed-up mind needs to get out, but it can suffice Basically, I have my own mental problems, though I don’t know what they are currently, but they do give me a lot of problems. Writing is my healthy way of expressing them rather than screaming at my friends. That was my old way… not good. Anyways, hope you guys liked this story.

#heathers fanfiction #heather chandler #heathers fanfic #heather chandler fanfic #heathers #jd fanfiction #jd #jason dean #jason dean x veronica sawyer #veronica x jd

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 4 years

Text

Being Simon

Chapter 1: The Past

Chapter 1/2 (All chapters)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 8493

Summary: Simon's type of therapy is...unusual to say the least. He has the incredible chance to go back in time to fix what he regrets. However, things get more complicated when Simon meets someone very interesting in the past.

Read on AO3

AN: Ahahahaha I did it!!! I finished a fic! That's a big achievement for me nowadays tbh. This has taken forever because stupid fucking health, but I did it! Of course I'm not 100% good with it but I'm still proud. Being Erica is one of my fave shows ever and is severely underrated imo. Then I saw this post and was like "oh damn that would be great for snowbaz." Now like three-four months late, here we are! Big thank you to @carryonmylovelies as always. She has been a big support for me through this writing slump. I couldn't be more grateful for her <3

World basics: time travel therapy is a thing, no further explanation given, and going back in time to fix past regrets teaches patients how to live better in the present. Patients take over their past selves' bodies for a bit. Patients can return from the past either suddenly or by stepping through doors. So just imagine Simon doing that. Saying much more is spoilers.

I’m gonna post chapter 1 today, then chapter 2 sometime within the next week. Hopefully y'all like it!

———————————————

You know that guy who’s got it all? A perfect job, a perfect partner, wonderful family, a life that people are secretly jealous of? You know that guy, everyone knows that guy. Unfortunately, I am not that guy.

My name is Simon Snow, and I’m a fuck up. But I’m getting better.

“Mr. Snow, Mr. Snow!” Cassidy shouts, waving her hand, “I know the answer!”

“Cass,” I say, “what did we say about inside voices?”

She pouts and crosses her arms. “Keep the volume down for all those around.”

“Exactly. Now, try again.” Cassidy raises her arm with no added sound effects. I point my chalk at her. “Cassidy, what’s the answer?”

She puts her hand down, grinning wide. “It’s 42.”

I hold my hand out to her. “Nice job, Cassy, right on the money.”

She gives me a big high five. The feeling of accomplishment surges through me. God, I love this job. My old customer service work made me feel dead inside. Day in, day out, same old fucking garbage from garbage customers. It was just never something I wanted to do. Now I get to see a little girl smile, and I helped her smile. Yeah, little self centred, but I’ll take it.

“Patrick,” I say, “can you tell me how we can find 8 times 4?”

Patrick nods and starts rattling off the technique he’s come up with. It’s a bit odd and round about but all his. That’s what I love about kids, the strange and unique things their little minds come up with. It’s why I wanted to be a teacher in the first place, before I lost my way.

The bell rings and everyone's on their feet immediately. “Alright everyone,” I shout over the clamour, “make sure to finish chapter three for tonight. And get your worksheets done! We’re going to go over them with a fine toothed comb. Have a good weekend, kids.”

“Bye, Mr. Snow,” they all parrot back. I wave them off, then start on my laptop. Being a teacher means having a lot of paperwork. (Or Google Doc work, I guess.) Everything is in mismatched folders and I have to scour them for my lesson plan draft. Unfortunately, I’m still not great at organization, but I’m working on it. I’m working on a lot in my life.

My phone rings. I look up from my screen, and notice there’s no sunlight from the windows. Holy shit, how long have I been sitting here? I quickly grab my phone. “Hello?”

“Simon!” Todd shouts. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Oh, uh, hi Todd.” Fuck, what did I do this time? “I-I’m still at work...”

He scoffs. “Of course you are. Shit, Simon, I’ve been sitting at Casper’s for an hour!”

My heart drops. I look down at my watch. It’s 6:34. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, love, I just totally lost track of time-”

“Yeah, I guessed that. I should expect that of you now.”

Well, that stings. A lot. I’ve felt like a screw up my whole life, so much so even my parents didn’t want me. Like they had some prophetic vision that their kid would be a no good moron. Therapy has started to rid me of those thoughts, but they still creep up every once in a while. Like now.

“I’m sorry, darling, I’m really sorry. We can go to my place, have take away-”

“No, Simon,” he sighs. “I just...I picked the day, the time, and the restaurant. All you had to do was bloody show up, and you couldn’t even do that. I mean...do you even care, Simon?”

A horrible, familiar pain goes through my heart. I can still hear Agatha’s voice all these years later. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. My thoughts get all muddled up, mixing up old fears and trauma with today.

“I do care, Todd, I really do. I just- I didn’t- I was- We can-”

“Please stop..” He sighs again. I can almost see him rubbing his pretty black eyebrows together. “Don’t stress stutter, it’s alright. Enjoy your work and takeaway.”

“Uh, could we reschedule?”

“No, we can’t.”

I gulp. I hate that I know what’s coming. “Are...are you too busy?”

“No, I’m just...I’m done. I can’t do this anymore, Simon. Hope you do well. I mean that.”

I slump in my chair. “Okay. You too. Bye, Todd.”

“Goodbye, Simon.”

He hangs up, but I keep the phone by my ear. My body feels too heavy to move and get out of this fucking chair. Once again, I screwed up my relationship. And the fact that it’s too familiar is even worse. This is what, the third partner I’ve lost in the last year? An abysmal track record. Before that I had been alone since uni, yeah, but I think it was better than feeling like this.

Slowly, I pack up all my stuff. Everything is quiet, like the world is in mourning for my latest lost relationship. Self centered as fuck but a nice thought. I sling my book bag over my shoulder and walk towards the door. It’s not even a shock when I don’t enter the foyer, but step through and end up in Dr. Margaret’s stony yet brightly lit office instead, complete with torches and pristine furniture. It’s like some medieval version of an IKEA showroom. Dr. Margaret is sitting in her chair with a book in hand, obviously waiting for me. Just another day with a super powered therapist who has her office in a pocket dimension outside of our reality. (That’s my theory anyway).

I speed walk forward and flop down face first on her white couch. “Hi to you too, Simon,” she says. I groan into the cushions. “Good day, huh?” I groan louder. “Tell me what happened or get off my couch.”

I move my face to the side, glaring at Dr. Margaret. She just keeps looking at me blankly from her large leather chair. Dr. Margaret has little time for my whining, something I usually appreciate. “Todd broke up with me.”

“You poor baby.”

I narrow my eyes even more. “Aren’t therapists supposed to be all sympathetic and shit?”

She scoffs. “Sympathetic when you’re not being pathetic.”

“My boyfriend just broke up with me, I’m allowed to be a bit pathetic.” I rub my very strained forehead. “I always get dumped.”

“Mhm.” Dr. Margaret picks up the notepad, the one I filled with my regrets the first day we met. It’s embarrassingly long, but a lot are crossed off too. “Tell me about ‘breakup with Agatha.’”

I groan, head falling back against the couch. “God, that’s one I’ve been waiting for.”

“Stop groaning and tell me.”

“Okay, okay, gimme a sec.” I sit up and put my elbows on my knees, rubbing my temple. Headache is coming. Though I’ve started to actually pay attention to my health and take care of myself now (thanks to Dr. Margaret), the headaches still happen sometimes. Especially when I think about this.

“It was 2003,” I sigh. “Agatha and I had been together for six years. Just before third year finals, Agatha broke up with me. I got really pissed at her. Turned into a huge screaming match. She said I didn’t care, and I called her an arsehole that never loved me.” I run a hand through my hair. Old stress habit. “I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was so unbelievably hurt. I knew it was wrong the moment after I said it, but I was too angry and proud to apologize. Agatha walked out. And that was the last time I ever saw her.” The words piece my heart like a knife. I feel like I'm about to shatter into pieces “We avoided each other all through finals. Right after graduation, Agatha moved to California for her masters. She wouldn’t take my calls, then she changed her number. So I gave up. Haven’t talked to her in twelve years. No idea where she is now and what she’s doing.”

Dr. Margaret nods thoughtfully, placing the notebook down. “What would you do differently? Try to fix things? Stay together?”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, god no. We weren’t good as a couple. But Agatha was one of my closest friends way before she was my girlfriend. I just, I want the breakup to not be so awful. That way we can stay friends. I want to keep her in my life. If I wasn’t such an arse, she would be.”

“Sounds reasonable. Let’s see if you can do it.”

A familiar chill hits me. At first it was terrifying but now I expect it. “Alright.”

Dr. Margaret nods, and the world spins.

———————————————

“You’re not hearing me, Simon!” Agatha screams. “I’m trying to tell you that it’s over!”

I stumble, blinking at Agatha and trying to focus on what’s around me. Dirty walls, Lady Gaga posters, a shitty desk I picked up off the curb. Yeah, this is definitely my uni apartment. And this is definitely Agatha screaming at me, trying to break things off and I’ve just been yelling. She’s so mad but I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.

“What are you smiling about?! Are you listening to me?!” She groans and shakes her head. “We’re done, Si. I can’t do this anymore. Goodbye.”

She turns around to leave and my pulse skyrockets. No no, not again. “Ags, wait! I-I am listening. Please, don’t leave!”

Agatha freezes, hand on the knob. She glares at me over her shoulder. “What?”

“I-I’m sorry for yelling, that was awful. Can we just sit down and talk this out? Please?”

She looks me over, probably trying to figure out if I’m being sincere. I know I am, but as far as she's concerned I was screaming my bloody lungs out a minute ago. Must be weird for her. Thankfully, she lets go of the knob. “Fine.”

I sigh in utter relief. I sit down on my shitty mattress (pretty sure I got this off the curb too) and Agatha follows. She’s tense, arms crossed. I fiddle with my fingers. The nail beds are all chewed up, hangnails surrounded by dark dried blood. Glad I broke that habit, but right now I sort of wish I still did it. It made me feel better.

“Are you going to say something?” Agatha asks, voice biting.

“Yeah, yeah, just, uh...” I rub the back of my neck. Words are getting fucked up again.

“You’re not going to change my mind, Simon. We’re through.”

“I know, Ags, I know. I don’t want us to stay together.”

Her eyebrows furrow. It’s really cute. I miss when she did that. “You don’t?”

“No, no, we’re not good as a couple. We don’t work well.”

“Oh.” Her arms fall into her lap. “Okay. Yeah, I think the same.”

“Awesome.” I turn towards her with a big grin. “But, uh, could we still be friends though? You’ve always been one of my best friends, Agatha. I-I don’t want to lose you after this.”

Agatha rubs her lips together, But slowly, she nods. “Okay, yeah.”

A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. I grin so wide it hurts. “That’s great! That’s so great. I-I just, I don’t want to lose you just cause our relationship didn’t work out.”

She looks even more confused, and I’m not sure why. “What do you mean ‘didn’t work out?’”

“Well, I-I mean, y’know, we just don’t work as a couple. We haven’t been happy for awhile because things have kind of...fizzled out, right?”

Suddenly, that infuriated expression comes back. She groans and stands up. “I can’t believe you, Si! You really haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said, have you?!”

I stand up too. “No, no, I have! You want to break up, and I get why, we’re not happy together. We’re not a good couple-”

“Because of you!” she screams. I stumble back slightly from the force of her words. “You fucked up!”

A horrible, upset, disgusted feeling takes over my whole body. Like my very soul is sicking up. I step towards her, reaching out. “Ags, I don’t know what you mean. H-How did I ruin things? Tell me what I did wrong!”

She shakes her head and backs away. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Si. If you don’t know by now, I don’t think you ever will.”

Agatha starts to stomp away. I chase after her. “Agatha! Ags, please, don’t-”

She slams the door so hard all my knick knacks rattle. I’m left in silence, except for the thoughts rattling around in my head. Fuck, what did I say? What did I do? I can’t think of anything I’ve done horrible enough to warrant such a response from Agatha. I pull at my hair and gnaw at my nail beds. I mean, this me already does it, so where’s the harm? Fuck, I don’t know what I did. I can’t remember!

Penny. I gotta go find Penny. She always has the answers. She’ll remember why I fucked up. I rush out the door and swing my way down the shitty stairs, careful to avoid the usual vomit puddles. I’m speed walking across the lawn towards Pen’s TA building when I spot familiar frizzy white hair.

“That was fast,” Dr. Margaret says, looking down at her book with a Starbucks drink in hand. She’s dressed in a horribly ugly orange tank top and boho skirt. Perfect for 2003. She needs to blend in with the time period, or at least that’s what she says. I think she just likes to dress up. “Saw her storm out. Looked really mad.”

“What the fuck was the point of this?!” I yell. I’m so angry, I can’t help it. My temper is something I need to work on but I really don’t care right now. “I still cocked things up with Agatha, so she still hates me, and all I’ve learned is that I apparently did something horrible that I don’t even remember because it’s been twelve bloody years!”

She takes a long drink from her large Starbucks cup. “Hm. Quite difficult. What’re you going to do?”

“Find Penny, I guess, She’ll know, right?”

Dr. Margaret shrugs. “Don’t know. You have a phone. Call her.”

Oh, right, phones are a thing. I dig around in my cargo shorts (god, I can’t believe, I used to wear these things) and pull out my old Nokia slide phone. I sneer at the thing. It was my first and shittiest cell phone. I thought I was so cool because my mobile slid out. I was such a prat.

I go to my contacts, and Penny is one of five. That makes me a little sad. I always liked people, but I was always bad at making real friends. I’ve gotten better now but past me barely had anyone. I click her number, and she picks up after two rings.

“Hey, Simon, what’s up?” she asks.

“Um, not much,” I respond automatically. Dr. Margaret glares at me. Right, I don’t need to push down my problems and pretend everything is okay. Penny’s my friend, she’ll want to help. “Actually, there’s a lot. Aggie and I just broke up.”

“Oh Si, I’m so sorry. How’re you feeling?”

“Not too bad. I guess it was inevitable. I’m more confused than anything. Ags said I ruined it by doing something, but I’m not sure what I did. Do you have any idea what she meant?”

“Uh...I really don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything. She doesn’t usually tell me things anyway.”

I sigh and rub my face. “Yeah, true. I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Pen.”

“Welcome, Simon. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up and shove my phone back in my massive pocket. Dr. Margaret is back to reading. “Well, that was no help.”

“Too bad. Maybe going to the source would be better.”

I frown in utter confusion. “You want me to go talk to Agatha again?”

“She knows what’s wrong. You don’t. Ask her.”

I put my hands on my hips. “You’re never this direct. What’s going on?”

She flicks her eyes to me, smiling slyly. “Don’t trust me, Simon?”

“No! I just know you always have something else going on. Nothing in therapy is ever easy or simple.”

“Know that. Taught you that.” She snaps the book closed. “Do what you think is best, Simon. Then live with choices.”

She stands up, book tucked into her hippie purse, and walks down the lawn. I huff, blowing a piece of stray hair out of my face. “You know I hate when you say that! It’s just pointing out the obvious! That’s lazy therapy!”

Dr. Margaret, the woman who has changed my life in so many ways, makes the “whatever” W sign at me. I chuckle and shake my head. Okay, well, this is probably some weird test (again), but Dr. Margaret has a point. Best to be direct. Maybe Agatha will have cooled down by the time I get there. I should do something nice. Bring her flowers, yeah, that’s a good idea. I look down at my cargo shorts, baggy Eminem shirt, and filthy knock off converse. Definitely need to change too.

I rush back to my apartment. It’s dingy and gross, but there’s a weird nostalgia to it. I should’ve put up more posters. (Why can’t that be a regret? That would be so much easier.) My dresser is bursting at the seams as usual. I throw my t-shirts around looking for something passable, but everything is dirty, tacky, smells like weed, or all of the above.

“Christ, how did I live like this?” I grumble, as if I wasn’t pretty much still living like this a year ago. (Minus the weed. Kicked that after uni, thankfully.)

Eventually I find a plain brown shirt and a pair of jeans with only one tomato sauce stain. Alright, I’m passable now at least. That’ll get Agatha’s attention just because it’s so out of character for who I am in this time. I open the old pickle jar where I keep all my change and scrounge together about 20 quid. Should be enough for flowers, especially before the 2008 crash. The exchange rate is the only thing I miss about the past, honestly.

“Alright,” I mutter to myself, slinging my bookbag over my shoulder, “decent clothes, okay hair, pocket change, bag to hold flowers. Let’s do this.”

I walk out my front door feeling confident, hopefully not too much. Can’t get a big head. Need to focus on Agatha.

“Simon, mate.” I turn around to see Rhys wheeling out of his flat. “What’s up? Heard a lot of shouting earlier, you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m cool, man. Agatha and I broke up and things got messy.”

He inhales sharply between his teeth. “Yikes. Sorry to hear that. Can’t believe she dumped you for that snotty prep.”

I stand ramrod straight, then spin around on my heels to face him properly. “What snotty prep?”

“Oh you didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!”

Rhys raises his hands in surrender. “Whoa, take it easy, man.”

Shit. Reel in your temper, Simon, don’t explode. “Sorry, sorry, mate. Just, what are you talking about with this prep?”

“Yeah, this preppy pretty boy Agatha sits next to in our romantic literature and creative writing classes. They’ve always got their heads together. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my business, but then you said you two broke up, so...”

“So you thought she told me, got it.” I rub my temples. Headache is coming back. “Do you know who he is?”

Rhys scratches the side of his head. “Yeah, think so. Tall, dark-ish skin, grey eyes, posh accent, even more posh clothes. Name starts with a T. Terrence, Terry, Tyler-” He snaps his fingers and points at me. “Ty! That’s it!”

My face scrunches up. “Ty? Ty what?”

“Dunno. Just Ty, I guess. Like Madonna. Dude thinks he’s better than fucking everyone just because he’s rich or something.”

My blood boils to a fever pitch. So Agatha broke up with me for someone prettier and richer. She said it was my fault because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. Mission failed, because I am fucking gutted.

“Thanks for telling me, mate,” I say, holding out my fist to him. He bumps his own against mine. “Really appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, mate. Come have a beer with us to commiserate?”

I chuckle. “Yeah, but you may have to remind me later. Brain like sieve.”

“Gotchu. See ya.”

“See ya.”

Rhys rolls down the hall towards Gareth’s. Right, it’s their weekly beer and footie night. I would hang out with them sometimes. I miss that. I should call them when I’m back in 2015. Right now though, I have a mission.

———————————————

Finding Ty will be pretty easy. I know when Agatha and Rhys’ creative writing class is, which is in a couple of minutes. (Rhys skipped a lot of class. Luckily he was a genius so he graduated at the top of our year. And Agatha never went to class when she was upset, so I know I won’t see her.) I run over to the building I know it’s in, a massive hall made from dingy grey stone and filled with caffeine addicted twenty somethings. Then I sit by a tree, waiting to see someone like Rhys described. Oh and when I find him I’ll- Well, I’ll do something. Not sure yet but it’ll be something!

Droves of zombified uni students pass me by. None of them look posh and preppy enough to be like this Ty dude. He sounds like such a twat. What the fuck does Agatha see in him? (Or did see in him, I guess. Time travel is weird.) Maybe Agatha is still with him. Maybe they went to California together. She talked about me going with her for a bit, but I was scared to leave England. I don’t regret staying, but I do regret the crushed look on her face.

The guy passes by me. He looks ridiculous, wearing oxfords, black slacks, and a goddamn tweed jacket with leather patches on the sleeves. It’s the preppiest posh shit I’ve ever seen. I can see his hands, curled around his textbook, and his slicked back hair. Dark-ish skin and ear length black hair. I’m on my feet in an instant.

“Hey!” I shout. He doesn’t move. “Hey, Ty! I’m talking to you!”

He finally turns around, and my heart stops for a second. Holy shit. This guy is beautiful. Like, super model on the cover of a high end fashion magazine gorgeous. He’s got cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and his eyes aren’t just grey, they’re green and blue mixed together. Like deep ocean water. And right now they’re staring at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

“Yes?” he says. His voice is smooth, strong, really pretty. “You called my name?”

I shake off my small gay panic (technically pansexual panic) and my anger returns. I glare hard at him. “Yeah, I did. My name is Simon Snow, Agatha’s boyfriend.”

His confusion quickly switches to stone faced boredom. “Oh you’re the boyfriend. Well, the ex-boyfriend now, according to the text Agatha sent me.” He tilts his head to the side, ocean eyes scanning me over. “I thought you’d be taller.”

My body feels like it’s on fire. This guy may be hot but he’s a total prick. How could Agatha dump me for him?! “Who do you think you are, huh? Flirting with someone’s girlfriend? That’s fucking low, you pathetic shit!”

He scoffs, putting on hand on his hip. “Very well spoken. If you’re done with your little alpha male display, I have a class to get to.”

Ty turns away. I’m ready to explode. I haven’t felt this angry in years but this guy is getting so under my skin. I grab his shoulder and force him to look at me.

“You don’t get to walk away, dick!” I roar. “Do you think you’re better than me?! Well you’re not!”

“I’m not the one shouting at a random stranger on the quad.”

“I’m shouting because you stole my girlfriend!”

“I didn’t steal her, you sexist shit,” he hisses. “She’s my friend. Are you the kind of arse to not allow his girlfriend to have friends?”

“No! And I’m not sexist! I just don’t like someone flirting with the girl I was with when I was with her, especially when you’re all...posh and shit!”

Ty scoffs again and leans forward. “Well, at least I don’t wear dirty jeans out in public. I have more self respect than that.”

My entire body explodes in a way it hasn’t in ages. My vision goes completely fucking red. I shove Ty, hard. Way harder than I mean to. He stumbles backwards, dropping his books on the grass. He looks at me in utter shock.

“What the fuck?!” Ty shouts. He then shoves my shoulders, and I stumble five steps back. Holy shit, he’s strong.

“Fuck you!” I shout back. I charge forward with all my might. Ty blocks me but that doesn’t stop me. I claw and push and pull at him, no clue what I’m doing at all. I’m just so angry and pushing it all at him. He pushes back just as hard. Neither of us will give an inch. We scrabble like a pair of cats. I can’t think, I just feel. I'm so angry and sad and worthless because...because....

Because I’m losing my friend again. And I don’t know what to do.

My hits get weaker and weaker. All the energy dribbles out like a melting ice cream in July. As I slow down, Ty stops pushing back. My arms fall down at my sides. His hands rest awkwardly on my shoulders.

“Uh,” he says, “are you alright?”

“No,” I choke out. Tears fill my eyes and cloud my vision. “No, I’m not.”

I break down, crying with heavy, ugly sobs. Everything is just collapsing in and around me. I really am losing Agatha all over again. It hurts even more this time. I’ve never fallen apart this badly on a regret. But everything from the past and present, losing all my partners in the past year then Agatha again, is just hitting me in one terrible mental blow.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Um...” I feel his hand move off my shoulder and slowly pat my head. “There, there?”

I snort like one of the kids I teach. I pull back, wiping the still flowing tears under my eye. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”

Though it’s a bit hard to tell, I think Ty’s face flushes. He crosses his arms defiantly. “Well, what the fuck are you supposed to do when a stranger attacks you then breaks down crying?”

I shrug. “Dunno, really. This is new for me too.”

Ty rubs the back of his neck, shuffling his polished oxfords in the dirt. I’m still sniffling like a child. “You want to go somewhere private? Where no one can see you?”

My eyes catch a couple of people glancing and outright staring at us. Or just at me. I nod vigorously. “Yeah, that would be good.”

Ty collects up the books I knocked out of his hands. He jerks his head to the side, and I follow behind him. Tears are still streaming down my face. They won’t stop no matter how hard I try. Ty leads us through a secluded area, past large trees and bushes, until we reach a completely hidden, beautiful ravine. Holy shit. Was this always here? I went to this uni for three years and I have no memory of this place. Either I’m super oblivious or getting old. (Probably both.)

We go past a couple more bushes until we come upon a ramshackle rainbow coloured bench against some trees. It looks handmade by some stoned out art major. The mess of cigarette and joint butts on the ground only reinforces that theory. Ty sits on one end of the bench. I take the other, but we’re still pretty close. It’s not very big. We sit in silence for a bit, save for my continued sniffling. Something bumps my arm. I look down to see Ty’s long fingered hand holding out a cigarette pack.

“Want one?” he asks.

“Smoking is bad for you,” I say automatically.

“Like you’re one to talk. You reek of marijuana”

“Fuck, really?” I sniff my shirt collar and get a whiff of weed. I groan, letting my head fall back against the tree. “Dammit. Thought this one was clean.”

“Unfortunately not.” He shakes the box. “You want one or no?”

I sigh and pluck a stick out of the box. Ty takes one as well, then pulls out a pristine silver Zippo lighter. He lights us both with one flame. I watch the paper crinkle and shrivel away into ash. I’m a bit nervous. Technically, I haven’t smoked anything in over a decade. Hopefully I can depend on past me’s muscle memory.

Ty takes a long, deep draft and breathes out a long puff of smoke. I try to mimic him. My lungs burn with the heat of twin suns. I wheeze out, thumping my chest. Ty throws his head back laughing, hair touching his neck.

“You must be a shitty stoner,” he chuckles.

“Yeah,” I cough, “never been great at inhaling.”

“Bring it into your mouth, then your lungs. Don’t do it all once.”

I nod, even though I kind of knew that. Just been awhile. I smoked a few joints but I preferred my old bong. But I try again, doing what Ty said. This time I only cough a little instead of wheezing like the world’s most pathetic dragon.

“There you go,” Ty drawls. He’s definitely mocking me a little.

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what bug crawled up your arse?”

I glare at him, and his face is completely unaffected. “The bug that Agatha broke up with me for you.”

He scoffs, flicking cigarette ash on the ground. “Your ex- girlfriend did not break up with you to be with me. We’re only friends. I’d never date her.”

“That’s mean, Agatha is amazing.”

Ty rolls his eyes dramatically. “It has nothing to do with Agatha. She’s wonderful. I just don’t like women.”

My eyes grow wider than saucer plates “You’re gay?”

He cocks an eyebrow. How did he get so good at that? Does he practice in the mirror? “You have a problem with that, Snow?”

“No, no, of course not. Just didn’t realise...”

“It’s not like I’m hiding it.” He gestures to his perfectly pressed button down, spotless navy slacks, and polished Oxfords. Okay, he has a point, most straight men don’t take such meticulous care of their clothes. 2003 closeted me had the excuse of being heteronormative as fuck, but 2015 pansexual me needs to work on his gaydar.

“I, uh, didn’t want to assume...” Usually a safe answer in my experience.

“How noble.” Ty takes a long drag. I still hate cigarettes, but the way his lips fit around the smoke plume is kind of attractive. “Agatha knows I’m gay. I told her after she almost kissed me.”

“What?!” I throw down the cigarette and shoot to my feet. The fire in my gut is back, along with the sense of utter worthlessness. I fucked up so badly, made Agatha so miserable, that she nearly kissed a gay bloke. I feel so awful and confused and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do, I’m just mad.

He rolls his eyes, again. “Sit down, alpha male, I said ‘almost.’ I’m not even sure she realised what she was doing, we were both completely pissed. She leaned forward slightly and I blurted out that I was gay. Then she promptly burst into tears.”

My heart feels like someone has reached inside and twisted every vein. My arms relax at my sides. “She...she was crying?”

“Yes, quite heavily.” He taps the cig with one long, graceful finger. (Does he play piano? He should.) “She said she was sorry, then blubbered for an hour about how conflicted she felt about wanting to break up with you.”

The impact of those words send me back down onto the bench. My whole body feels heavier than lead. “She felt conflicted?”

“Of course she did.”

“I-I thought this was easy for her. That our relationship was already going downhill, then I did something so bad she decided to end it. And then I thought it was because she found you, someone better than me.”

Ty scoffs. “My god, she was right, you are completely oblivious.”

I scowl at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You’re so blind to what you’ve been doing.”

“What’ve I been doing?!”

“You’ve been a terrible boyfriend!” he yells. “You’re forgetful, you miss things, you don’t pay attention to Agatha, and most of all you take her for granted!” He sighs, rolling the half finished cig between his fingers. “Ags says you don’t mean to do it, you’re just oblivious, but she’s still hurt. There isn’t one bad thing you did, Snow. You’ve been hurting her for awhile.”

Every word is slap to the face. My body literally aches with all the guilt I feel. Ty is right. I was an awful, awful boyfriend. Every missed date, every burnt meal, every stupid thing I’ve ever said, they all rush into me. Fucking hell. How could I have not seen it? I always had reasons, and they were always small things. But I guess a lot of small things pile up.

“Fuck,” I choke out. Tears make little wet spots on the dirt floor. I don’t know when I started crying again. God, I’m a mess.

“Please don’t cry,” Ty says, sounding almost sympathetic. “I only have so many cigarettes.”

That makes a laugh surprisingly fly out of my mouth. Yet I’m still picking at my nails, flicking away bits of my cuticle like I want to get rid of my pain. I’m nervously babbling before I even realise it. “My brain’s always filled with...stuff. Keeping my scholarship, keeping my job, working towards my future. E-Everything’s always been about my future, what I’ll do eventually, even with Agatha. She was supposed to be my happy ending after all the shit I’ve been through.”

“She’s a person,” he mutters, “not your goal.”

“I know that!” I rub away more tears. “Well, I’m learning. I dunno. I-I had a shitty childhood, okay? So I’m always waiting for things to get better. And I thought if I did well at school and found a nice girl, things would just fall into place. Turns out shit is more complicated than that.”

I laugh to try to break the tension, but Ty stays silent. I cautiously flick my eyes over to him. He’s still holding his cigarette. It’s burnt down to the filter. His face is stone again, yet I can see the slight tremor in his fingers. It’s miniscule but it’s there. I don’t think he’s okay, but I barely know this guy, I’m scared to ask.

“I don’t know how to fix things with Agatha,” I sigh. “I’m bad at talking, bad at relationships, sometimes bad at friendships. It’s not like I want her back. I...I just want her in life. She’s amazing. I don’t- I can’t lose her again.”

“Again?” he says. My face goes bright red and my breath hitches. Fuck. Stupid time travel, screwing things up.

“Y-Yeah, we’ve had fights before, stopped talking for a while. I know this feeling, I hate it. I want her to be in my life and be happy and I don’t know how to do that!”

“Tell her that.”

I face him, blinking in confusion. “What?”

Ty sighs and flicks the butt onto the ground, crushing it beneath the toe of his utterly perfect oxford. “Tell her that. Say you’re scared and clueless but you want to still be friends, so you want to figure out how to do that. Be honest. What else are you going to do?”

My mouth flaps up and down. Fuck. It’s so damn obvious yet it never came to mind. I thought I needed something big and smart so Agatha would understand. But... “All I need to do is be honest with her.”

“Exactly.”

I smile for the first time since I got here. “Wow, can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“You do seem to be a bit thick.” His slight smirk and teasing lilt save me from getting angry. I scoff and shake my head.

“Yeah, well, you seem like a bit of a prick.” He scoffs too, but he’s still smiling.

We sit there in silence for a little. All I can hear is birds chirping and students in the distance. I feel calm. So calm I don’t want to get up for a while. I just want to catch my breath. Ty slowly tilts his head back over the bench.

“I haven’t sat down in awhile,” he says quietly, almost as if to himself, but too loud for me not to hear. “I’m always at class or studying. I don’t sit down and just...sit.”

“Well you haven’t really been only sitting,” I chuckle. “You’ve been helping me.”

“Would it be sad that this has actually been the most relaxing time I’ve had in months?”

“Uh, yeah, and a bit concerning.”

Ty laughs a little louder this time. His smile seems a bit more genuine, but his pretty eyes are a bit sad. It may just be his face. It looks like it’s designed for pouting. “I’m a political science and English double major getting ready for law school. My whole life is stress.”

I chuckle sadly. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It is. A nightmare I chose...” He spins the cigarette pack between two fingers. I know he’s just fiddling but it looks so damn cool when he does it.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re happy about that choice.”

His eyes shift over to me without moving his head. “Since when do you know anything about my feelings?”

I shrug, crossing my arms. “I usually know what sadness looks like.”

Ty sighs. He rubs his temple slowly with his elegant ring finger. (What is with my finger fetish today?) “Ever since I was little, it was expected that I follow in the family tradition. Get perfect grades, go to a good university, go to an even better law school, become a lawyer, then finally take over the family practice. It’s what my mother did. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want,” he scoffs.

I tilt my head towards him, but not too close to scare him away. “Well, if you could do what you want, what would you do?”

“I told you, it doesn’t mat-”

“Then pretend it does matter. What would you do for the rest of your life?”

Ty sinks further into the bench. It makes his stupid tweed jacket bunch up slightly, and he almost looks like a normal young adult. “Honestly, I just want to read books forever.”

I giggle quietly, and Ty glares at me with a now obvious flush in his cheeks. “Fuck off,” he snarls.

“I’m not laughing at you!” He doesn’t look convinced. “It’s just, when I first saw you, I never expected you to be a total bookworm. You seem too posh for that.” Ty snorts, keeping his arms crossed. He won’t meet my eyes. I lean closer, and he doesn’t back away. “Reading books forever sounds hellish to me, but it sounds like heaven for you. It’s a great idea. Why not do it?”

Ty’s glare somehow gets even more intense. His eyes are just slivers of beautiful grey. “Because I’m a responsible person, unlike you.”

The words hit me right in the gut. I scowl deeply at him. “That is beyond not okay. You don’t know me, you don’t know my life. So you don’t get to spew shit like that just because you’re pissed off. Got it?”

Honestly, I’m surprised how clear and articulate I’m being. A year with Dr. Margaret has made it a lot easier for me to stand up for myself in a meaningful way, not just with growls and punching. But still, it’s hard, and I did this so easily. I’ve really made progress.

Ty scowls back, but I don’t back down. I’ve always been good at standing my ground, thankfully. Slowly, Ty’s face falls and gets less angry. In fact, he looks a bit regretful. We slowly move apart again. He takes a few deep breaths before he finally speaks again.

“You’re right,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

“Good, apology accepted.” I lean my cheek onto my fist. “Seems both of us are having trouble with our futures.”

“Mine is secure.”

“But not happy.”

He rubs his lips together, like he’s chewing his words. “That doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? Why not do what you want instead?”

“Because I’ve already applied to law school!”

“Okay.” I put my back to the bench again, staring up at the sky through the trees. “Well, I’m nearly done with my maths and am about to start my teaching degrees. Then I've got a private school job lined up, but who knows? Maybe I’ll hate the job and quit and work at shitty customer service jobs for years until I decide to get my shit together and find an actually good teaching gig at a school I like.”

Ty’s dark brows furrow together. “That is extremely specific.”

I shrug, hoping my smirk doesn't say too much. “I don’t know, just a possibility.”

“Alright,” he snorts. “My life will be fine, it won’t go off the rails.”

He looks so sure and resolute. I don’t think I’m going to change his mind, and I don’t think it’s my job to. I can’t save everyone, something Dr. Margaret taught me. Plus I just met this guy. No matter how pretty he is, I don’t know him. (Wish I did.) Hopefully he can figure out his own shit.

“Okay. Your life, you can figure it all out.” I put my hands behind my head, leaning back, staring at the sky.

“Your life is going to be fine,” Ty says. “Agatha says that despite what you think, you’re smart. And I’m partial to agree. You have trouble with relationships, but who doesn’t? You’ve still got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll figure everything out too.”

I can feel my face turns bright red, and from the smirk on Ty’s face he can see it. I rub the back of my neck, trying to use my arm to hide my blush. “Y’know, I get why Agatha liked you. You’re weirdly nice and, well, really hot.”

Now it’s Ty’s turn to have his eyes go wide. He looks very cute. “Wow, you’re pretty forward for a straight guy.”

“Whoever said I was straight?” I smirk at him with one eyebrow raised. I hope I look confident and sexy and not just fucking weird.

“Oh.” His voice is almost a squeak. “I’m sorry I assumed.”

“S’alright, common mistake.” I look down at my stupid Nokia. “Wow, you’re beyond late for your class.”

Ty scoffs. “And who’s fault is that?”

“Okay, yeah, guilty as charged. You should probably get to it though. Need good grades for law school and all.”

“Yes, good point.” He stands up, and I follow, hands in my pockets. I both hate and love that Ty is a little taller than me. “But...it was nice to talk to you, Snow.”

“Feeling’s mutual, Ty. So, uh, see you around.”

I grin brightly, then turn around before I say something really stupid. I usually do in front of pretty people. Plus I need to see Agatha. That’s why I’m here, back in 2003. I’m not supposed to be chasing after a pretty guy who went to my uni ages ago. Even if he is like, really pretty.

“Simon.” His voice makes me stop in my tracks and turn back.

“Yeah?”

Ty steps forward and holds out a scrap of lined paper. “Since you’re newly single, and now I know you’re not straight, give me a call sometime? If you’re up to it, that is.”

My brain completely short circuits. Blows a fuse. Maybe every fuse. I just stare at Ty with my mouth hanging open for a bit too long. Ty starts to look genuinely concerned. But thankfully the synapses start firing again and I shake it off.

“Um, y-yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I would like that.” I take the paper. “Uh, thank you.”

“You’re most welcome. I hope to see you around as well.”

I watch as he walks away, and I’m mesmerised by the way his hips swing. Fuck, he is so hot. And he likes me. I honestly have no clue why but I’m not going to question it. I have to make sure to call him before I go back to 2020. But right now I have to find Agatha, so I carefully put the paper in the smallest pocket of my bag, then dash off towards Aggie’s dorm.

———————————————

I knock on the door softly, and there’s no answer at first. “Aggie?” I say. “I came here to say I’m sorry. I won’t yell, I promise.”

Still silence at first. I nearly leave, but then the sound of soft footsteps comes from under the door. The doorknob slowly turns and my pulse increases every second. Agatha is wearing her purple Watford lacrosse sweater, a pair of my trackies that I left behind last week, and blonde hair piled up in a bun. Her eyes are puffy and her cheeks are red. My stomach drops at the sight.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, voice low and flat. She sounds more tired than angry. For some reason that hurts even more.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry for how I treated you, Ags. Our relationship didn’t fall apart for no reason. I didn’t pay attention to what you wanted and took you for granted. I was a terrible boyfriend. And I’m really, really sorry.” I start nervously pulling at my hair. “I-I’m not saying we should get back together. We weren’t happy, and you deserve someone who will put you first. But I still want to be your friend. You’re one of my first and best friends. I’m not sure how to do that, considering I was such an shit boyfriend, but can we figure it out? Together?”

Agatha rubs her lips together, taking slow deep breaths. Her fingers tap against the door one by one. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or run or both. All are possible. But then Agatha nods slowly.

“Okay,” she sighs.

“Okay?”

“Let’s try to be friends again. I don’t want to lose you either.”

I grin ear to ear. “Okay, awesome, that’s great. I’m so glad you want to as well. I do love you, Ags, and I’m sorry I hurt you so much.”

“Apology accepted, Si, so you don’t need to do it anymore. Let’s just move forward, alright?”

“Alright, yeah, I’d like that.” I rub my neck and nervously gnaw at my lip. “Um, could I hug you? As a friend?”

She smiles softly. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile. Not just because I’m from the future, but I can’t remember the last time she smiled back when we were together. I hope I can make her smile more now.

“Yeah,” she says, “that would be nice.”

We both step forward and throw our arms around each other. I haven’t hugged Agatha in a long time either. Sure, we snogged and had sex, (though not very often honestly), but this is so much better. There’s no pressure or nerves. It feels normal. The most normal I’ve ever felt with her.

As we slowly part, we’re still smiling. “You,” Agatha pokes my chest, “need to study for your exam on Monday.”

I chuckle and nod, being silently thankful I’m not doing that exam again. Once was more than enough. “Yeah, I know. This felt more important though. You’re more important.”

She blinks in confusion. I can’t blame her. Past me was always too focused on my work so that I could reach the happy ending I always wanted. Future me is figuring out that there is no happy ending. There’s just life, and I have to make it what I want, not just wait for happiness to fall into my lap. I haven’t got it down pat but I’m getting there. That’s more than good enough.

“Well, I’m definitely glad to hear that,” Agatha says. “Call me tomorrow. We’ll go get brunch, okay?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Sounds great.” The voice in the back of my head reminds me about the small fact of time travel, and that when I go back to 2015, past me is only going to remember bits and pieces of this day. “But, uh, studying may fry my brain. So could you maybe call instead? And I’ll call next time?”

Agatha sighs with exasperation, but she’s still smiling. “Alright, that’s a valid excuse.” She presses a small kiss to my cheek. It’s completely platonic, and it feels great. “See you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, definitely.” I hug her tight one more time before I go. She gives me a kind wave before closing her door. I’m grinning like a mad man as I walk down the hell. I did it, I saved my friendship with Agatha. I’m so damn happy. Plus I met Ty.

Oh right. I reach into my bookbag, feeling around for my notebook. My hand curls over the rings of the spine as I push open the stairwell door. And I instantly fall face first onto the dirty public school floor.

“Mr, Snow!” Ms. Petty, the nicest janitor in the entire school, possibly in the whole world, rushes to me. “Are you alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

“Here, let me help.”

I take her hand and she hoists me to my feet. I still feel a bit dizzy, a small side effect of time travel I know all too well now. Ms. Petty keeps a hand on my back until I regain my bearings. “Alright, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”

“Okay, dearie.” She pats my shoulder. “Go get some rest, get your mind off work.”

“Right, yeah, work...”

Ebb gives me one last comforting pat and goes back to sweeping the hallway floor. I wave at her as I leave, hoping she doesn’t see the distress in my face.

Fuck.

———————————————

AN: Chapter 2 will be posted within the next week, i.e whenever I'm well enough to edit it lol. See you all next time!

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fanfiction #being erica au #time travel #time travel therapy #fluff #angst #first meeting #mysnowbazfic

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Best of Me -Chapter 47

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @ocfairygodmother

He takes the three oldest out to breakfast before school. It’s an attempt to kill two birds with one stone; spend time with them before heading to The Kimberley for four days, and to try and repair some hurt feelings. There’s still some lingering animosity being in those little bodies; moments when they remind of him the time he’d ‘taken mommy away and kept her away forever’ and how it felt like he was ‘gone for centuries’. It’s been almost seven months since he both took the McMann job and -regrettably- gotten his wife mixed up in it. He hadn’t realized at the time just how damaging that entire experience would be for the kids. Having both their parents away, and then sending them away with Ovi; staying in hotels and eating crappy food and travelling through four states before winding up at a stranger’s place in Oklahoma.

It had been done to protect them; keep them away from home and hopefully keep McMann’s people from finding them. But he’s never actually told them THAT. The nightmares caused by the knowledge of him going after bad guys had been bad enough. Telling them that the bad guys had been after them would have meant years...if not decades...of intensive -and costly- therapy. Ovi had tried his best to keep things calm and relaxed; attempting to convince the kids that they were on an adventure and trying to fill their days with new sights and new experiences. He’d grown up a lot in those two weeks. Suddenly responsible for four lives on top of his own; innocent little being totally dependent on him to keep them safe. But he’d come through; he’d done exactly what he’d been told to and had come back with everyone happy (relatively), healthy, and unscathed.

But despite Tyler's best intentions and efforts, it had negatively affected them. Especially HIS prolonged absence. Things weren’t magically better the moment they were reunited in the driveway at their old place in Colorado. Even with all the hugs and kisses and the tears of relief and happiness, the kids had been angry. Furious that he’d had the nerve to not only take their mother away from them, but that he’d stayed away for an uncharacteristically long time. For two weeks they all refused to sleep in their own rooms; five bodies all shoved into the queen sized bed in the master. They’d alternate nights when it came to bad dreams; no evening passing without one waking up kicking and screaming and sometimes wetting the bed or throwing up. Night terrors that consisted of the ‘bad guys’ coming to the house and either kidnapping them or doing horrible things to their mom and dad in front of them.

Once they moved to Australia things began to calm down. In the kids’ minds they were on the ‘other side of the world’, which put them far enough away from the guys that it may as well have been in another universe. And once the initial hostility of being uprooted from the old house and their old lives wore off, they had begun to thrive. Happier in their new home and in their new country.

He herds them into a smaller family restaurant in the downtown core; the fingers of one hand hooked in the back of both boys’ t-shirts, a hand on the back of Millie’s head. Always keeping them within a couple inches of him and his eyes constantly surveilling everything around them. Aware of every car that passes by or door that slams too loudly. Every pedestrian that walks past them on the sidewalk or lingers in store entrances or on front porches; defenses up when any time he feels as if someone is paying too much attention to them or comes a little too close. All of his senses running on high and his instincts sharp; his brain constantly processing everything and anything that happens around them. Functioning as both old Tyler and new Tyler; the two managing to coexist, at least temporarily. He’s confident in his skills and his abilities; he knows he’s able to keep them safe and that if a threat does arise, old Tyler will be one that reacts to it.

There’s an empty booth at the very back of the restaurant; enabling him to be able to sit facing the door. And the moment they arrive at it the bickering begins; who gets to sit next to the window, who gets to to order first when the waitress arrives, demands that no one orders the exact same thing because ‘that’s copying and copying is annoying’.

It’s surreal how drastically the direction of your life can change. Almost seven years ago he was standing in that squalid apartment in Dhaka surrounded by street thugs; mentally deciding in which order he was going to take them out in order to rescue Ovi. Now he’s breaking up fights over who gets to sit next to him and which napkin and cutlery belongs to who. You don’t know patience...true, unwavering patience...until you have kids. It doesn’t matter how much you pride yourself in how calm and collected you are while on the job; surrounded by tension and danger. Because nothing...and no one...tests your nerves and your sanity quite like a dramatic and ‘extra’ almost six year old and two five year olds who find it impossible to sit still.

After a brief game of ‘guess the number I’m thinking of between one and ten’, everyone is finally settled. The waitress coming to take their drink order and leaving them with menus and crayons for the kids to use to colour on the paper tablecloth. A victorious Tanner sitting between him and the window, and TJ and Millie across from them; as far away from each other as possible on the small bench. They’ve been at odds since leaving the house, bitter with one another after they’d fought over who would be the last one to kiss mommy goodbye.

Tyler watches his daughter from across the table; amused -and slightly disheartened- by how much older she suddenly appears courtesy of the sullen, if not overly dramatic, expression. Her elbows resting on the table top and her chin planted in her upturned palms; eyes narrowed as she alternates between looking at the menu and glaring at her little brother as he has the nerve to entertain himself by creating a pyramid out of coffee creamers. ‘Little brother’ doesn’t adequately describe the kid; he’s only eleven months younger but has three inches and fifteen pounds on Millie. He’s tall and solid; all torso and long limbs.

He wants to tell his daughter to stop being so much like her mother, but nothing could be further from the truth. That expression, that steely glare, that attitude...it’s all him. And he sees the look of disgust she fixes on him when he removes his baseball hat and runs a hand through his hair. The top is starting to come in; he’ll take the clippers to the back and sides while he’s away.

“What?” He asks, and places the hat and his sunglasses on the bench beside him. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re not really growing that stupid hair cut back again, are you?”

He smirks. “What if I am? What if your mom likes my hair that way? Tanner has the same hair cut. Doesn’t look stupid on him.”

“And it’s not stupid anyway,” TJ pipes up. “It’s a bitchin’ haircut. I wish I had it.”

Tyler reaches across the table to lay the tip of his index finger against the tip of Millie’s nose, pressing lightly. “Why so grumpy?”

“I’m not grumpy,” she mumbles, and pushes his hand away.

“You look grumpy.”

“That’s just her face,” Tanner says, not even looking up from the game he plays on his dad’s phone.

“Bruh,” TJ grins. “That was savage. But so good. And so true.”

“When did you become the mean brother?” Tyler asks, playfully digging his elbow into his son’s side.

“She called me a bitch baby last night,” he explains. “Because I didn’t want to go into the woods without Ovi with us. We’re not supposed to go in there without an adult. Without your mommy or Ovi. But she wouldn’t listen.”

“You went in there by yourself?” he addresses his daughter.

“I stopped her,” Tanner says. “That’s why she called me a bitch baby.”

“Even though he tackled her,” TJ chimes in. “In the middle of the road! It was awesome. He’s not very big, but he’s strong as hell. Like mommy. Small but strong. Mommy can pick up both of us. At the same time!”

“I’m not THAT small,” Tanner frowns. “I’m almost as big as you, Teej.”

“On what planet? I got tons on you. Like daddy does on mommy. Daddy’s like a giant and mommy’s just tiny. But she scares me more than daddy does. She yells louder. A LOT louder.”

“I’m not scared of mommy,” Tanner says. “She’s nice to me because I listen to what she says. You just ignore her and then she gets mad and we all pay for it. If you’d just listen the first time…”

“Daddy doesn’t even listen the first time.” TJ points out.

“And then he wonders why she yells at him,” Tanner retorts. “‘Cause he annoys her.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Tyler reminds him. “When do I annoy your mom’?”

“All the damn time,” TJ sighs. “And then she gets bitchy. Like Millie. But Millie is way bitchier.”

“I’m not bitchy,” Millie scowls. “You’re just a dick.”

“Okay...enough…” Tyler pleads, noticing both the amused and appalled looks nearby diners are giving them. “Can not act like a normal family for once? What did I say before we came in here? What did I say not to do?”

“No fighting,” Tanner says.

“No bad words,” his brother adds.

“And no annoying each other. Or me. And you’re doing both. So stop. Or I’ll leave you all here and make you walk to school.”

“Mommy would be so pissed,” TJ declares. “She’d be mad at you forever.”

“She’s always mad at me about something. And you…” he looks at Millie. “...you know not to go into the woods alone. You want a dingo to eat you?”

“I wish one would,” TJ says, and then holds his hands up in surrender when his father glares at him. “She said she saw some lady go in there and told her to stop because that’s part of our house but the lady didn’t listen.”

“What lady?”

Both boys shrug.

“I didn’t see sh…” TJ bites his tongue when Tyler stares at him pointedly. “...I didn’t see anything. Ovi went and checked but there was no one there. He couldn’t find anyone. He said it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going on our property.”

Tyler turns his attention to Millie. “What lady?”

“There was no lady,” TJ insists. “No one else saw a lady.”

“I’m talking to your sister, you mind? What lady?”

“I don’t know,” Millie shrugs. “But there WAS a lady. I saw her. Just like I saw that guy in the Jeep in front of Salena’s house.”

“That’s not even her name,” TJ says. “She was lying to us. The whole time. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Tyler frowns at him. “Excuse me?”

“A crappy thing to do. Sorry! It just came out. Maybe if you watched YOUR mouth around little ears….”

“How’d you like to walk to school?” he asks, then gives a polite smile and a nod of thanks to the waitress that refills his coffee and brings chocolate milk for the kids.

“You wouldn’t do it. Mommy would make you sleep on the couch forever.”

“I saw her daddy,” Millie insists, tone -and eyes- serious. “Remember how I saw that guy in the Jeep? Just like you did?”

He nods.

“Well I saw her too. Ovi asked me to get the mail so I did and that’s when I saw her and I tried to yell at her and stop her but she just ignored me. That’s why I tried to follow her and then Tanner stuck his nose in it.”

“Because we’re not allowed in the woods by ourselves,” Tanner informs her. “Daddy said when we moved there that we weren’t allowed because there’s bad things in there and we could end up hurt. Or dead. Do you want to end up dead? Because that’s how you end up dead.”

“That’s not how daddy almost ended up dead,” she points out.

“‘Cause the bad guys tried to kill daddy but didn’t,” TJ says. “Because Uncle Koen says daddy’s too stubborn to die. How do you know the lady wasn’t a bad person, Millie? She could have been a bad person and what would you have done? Nothing. She would have killed you.”

“Okay…” Tyler sighs heavily and runs a palm over his face. “...let’s NOT talk about bad guys and people dying. Or not dying. Just stop. What did the lady look like?”

“I still say there was no lady,” TJ grumbles.

“She kinda looks like Auntie Nik,” Millie says. “The same color of skin. Maybe a bit darker. But she had the same color hair and it was really long. She had it in a ponytail but it was still as long as mine.”

“You remember what she was wearing?”

“Of course I do. I notice things. She had on jeans and a black t-shirt and a green jacket like the one you have. And red shoes. Like purple ones that you bought mommy for Christmas.”

“Converse.”

“Yeah. Those ones! She had a pair of those on. She was kind of young. Maybe mommy’s age. Or a little younger.”

“Mommy’s old,” TJ declares. “She’s not young.”

“Don’t you EVER let her hear you say that,” Tyler warns. “And she’s not old. I’m older than she is.��

“Uncle Koen says you’re as old as Jesus Christ,” Tanner says. “The person. Not the swear word.”

Tyler smirks. “He did, did he?”

Tanner nods. “And mommy’s not old Teej.”

“She had all of us. She has to be.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s old because she had all of us. Just means her and daddy like to make babies. Doesn’t mean she’s old. Daddy’s old.”

“Excuse you,” Tyler nudges him with his elbow. “I’m only five years older than your mom is.”

“Your forty,” Millie points out. “That's super old. You have gray hair.”

“Because of you guys.”

“We don’t give your gray hair,” his daughter huffs.

“Mommy gave it to him,” TJ says. “‘Cause she’s a pain in daddy’s ass. That’s what he says all the time. That she’s a pain in his ass and drives him crazy. Right, daddy?”

“Don’t throw me under the bus.”

“You’re the one who said it! That mommy’s a pain in your ass. Uncle Koen said you’re lucky to have her. That she puts up with you. That tons of guys would want her and if you don’t, someone will take her off your hands and take her away.”

“He said that?”

“I don’t want some guy taking mommy away,” Tanner pouts. “I don’t want her leaving. She wouldn’t leave us, would she, daddy?”

“She would never...ever...leave you guys.”

“Then you better make sure no one steals her away,” Tanner says. “‘Cause I like the mom AND dad I have. I don’t want another mom or dad. That would suck, having another dad. He’d probably be some loser that doesn’t do cool stuff with us like you do.”

“He probably wouldn’t let me surf,” Millie adds, and sips her milk. “Or take us camping and fishing. And he’d probably be mean to us. And to mommy. You can’t let someone take her, daddy. I don’t want another dad. I want you.”

“No one is going to steal your mom away,” he assures them.

“The guy at the grocery store likes her.” TJ says. “The one that drives the Mustang and has the man bun. The one that called her a MILF. Whatever that means.”

Tyler frowns “Someone called her that?”

“The guy at the grocery store.” TJ sighs. “Mommy told him to F off. ‘Cause he got too handsy.”

“He what?”

“He touched her butt,” Millie says. “He said it was an accident, but I think he meant it. Mommy told him to F off and that she’d tell her husband and that you’d go there and break him in half. Could you really do that? Break him in half? ‘Cause I want to see it if you do it.”

“Of course he can break someone in half!” Tanner exclaims. “He killed somebody with a rake!”

TJ frowns. “That’s our last name.”

“It’s also a garden tool, dumb ass,” Millie huffs. “And it wasn’t one person, Tanner. It was two.”

“How do you guys even know that?” Tyler asks. “Because I know mommy wouldn’t tell you.”

“Ovi was telling Uncle Koen and Nathan,” Millie replies. “We just overheard it. Is it true? Did you kill two people with a rake?”

“Maybe…”

“I would have liked to have seen that,” TJ says. “Are you going to kill the douche at the grocery store? For touching mommy’s butt?”

“Maybe I should.”

“Daddy could totally kill that loser,” Millie enthuses. “I think you should do it. Break him in half. Can we watch?”

“No one is breaking anyone in half. Or killing anyone. What is wrong with you?”

“But you could, right?” she inquires. “Break him in half?”

“Of course he could!” TJ exclaims. “Look at the size of him! 0ne of his hands is bigger than your whole head. And you have a big ass head.”

“And look how big his arms are!” Tanner adds, and attempts to wrap both hands around one of his father’s biceps. “Look! They’re huge! I can’t even put my hands around one! He could totally break that guy in half!”

“I wish you would,” TJ says. “No one touches mommy like that. Only you’re allowed. We can touch her too, but that’s different because she’s our mom. She gave birth to us. Me and you at the same time, Tanner. However THAT worked.”

“Everyone knows how babies come out,” Tanner informs his brother. “The doctor opens the mommy’s tummy and pulls the baby out, right daddy?”

“Sometimes, I guess. That’s not how you guys got out, but…”

“How come TJ got to go first?” Tanner asks. “How come I didn’t get to go first?”

“I have no idea. It just worked out that way.”

“And how come I was by myself?” Millie inquires. “Why didn't I have a partner?”

“Because your brothers are twins. You’re not. You were alone.”

“You couldn’t have given me a twin? Like asked God or whoever or whatever?”

“That’s not how it works.”

“I’m so confused,” she sighs. “I don’t even know HOW I got in mommy’s tummy, never mind how I got out. And I couldn’t even have company in there? That’s some bullshit.”

The waitress chuckles as she arrives with their food. “You’ve got your hands full here, dad.”

“You think? And this is them behaving.”

“It could be worse,” TJ says. “There’s two more of us at home. A baby brother and a baby sister. Like, a baby, baby. Like tiny. Really tiny.”

“She sounds like a kitten when she cries,” Tanner adds. “‘Cause she’s so small. And she looks like mommy. We look like daddy. Not Addie though.”

“How do babies get out of a mommy’s tummy?” Millie inquires. “Daddy won’t tell us.”

The older woman laughs, then pats Tyler on the shoulder. “I think I need to bring you an entire POT of coffee.”

****

“How come we don’t get to come?” Millie asks, as they walk hand in hand down the path at the back of the school, the boys already running off to play soccer with friends. “How come we have to stay here but you and mommy get to go away?”

“Because sometimes, moms and dads need to be alone.”

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to go and play with your friends?” Tyler nods in the direction of a group of girls gathered on the playground, calling to Millie and waving her over.

“No. I’d rather stay with you. I can see my friends whenever. And when you leaver, I won’t get to see you for a while.”

“I’m not going to be gone that long,” he reminds her, and tightens the elastic holding her braided ponytail together.

“Long enough. Remember when you said you wouldn’t go away again? When we were at our old house and we had to go away with Ovi and then you were home when we got back? Remember?”

“I remember.’

“You said you wouldn’t go away again. And now you’re going away. And you went away two weeks ago! To visit Uncle Koen.”

“I was gone for one night.”

“Still,” she sighs as she lets go of his hand, then crosses her arms over her chest and she looks up at him. “We still miss you. Even if it’s just one night. You said at our old place that you wouldn’t go away again.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

Because that was for work. This is because your mom and I need some time alone together. Adults sometimes need that. And mommy and I? We desperately need that.”

“Why?”

“Look, when you’re married and have kids, you’ll understand. But right now, you’re only five…”

She glares up at him.

“..almost six, and you don’t need to know how or why or any of that. Just mommy and I need to be alone and that’s all that you need to know. And we’re going to go and be alone and we’ll be back on Tuesday.”

“Why so long?”

“It’s four days. That’s not long.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. And I told you, this is different. Back then was about work, and this is about spending time with your mom. Adult time. No kids allowed.”

“You’re not going to bring me back a baby brother are you?”

He chuckles. “That’s not how it works, kiddo.”

“Are you and mommy going to MAKE me a baby brother? ‘Cause I’d rather a puppy. Or another sister. Please not a brother.”

“We can’t make you a brother OR a sister. We can’t make any more babies.”

“How come? If you made five of us already, how come you can’t make more?”

“Because we can’t.”

“You’re only allowed five? Is that a rule? You can’t have more than that? What if Addie had had a twin? That would have been six! And what if Austin was still here? Does that mean Addie wouldn’t be allowed to be here? Because she’d be number six.”

Tyler frowns. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m curious about the world. Mommy says I’m a free spirit. I don’t know what that means, but it sounds cool.”

“I think your mom’s right.”

“So if Austin was alive, I’d have an older brother right?”

Tyler nods.

“Better than younger brothers. Older better are better. Would he like me?”

He runs a hand over her hair. “I think so. He’d be a lot older than you, though. He’d be sixteen.”

“Do I look like him?”

“Kind of. I guess. I dunno.”

“I bet I’d like him. I had a dream about him the other night.”

Tyler arches a brow. “You did?”

Millie nods. “We were surfing together. I didn’t even know who he was at first because I’ve never seen a picture of him. I only know what you told me about him. But said who he saw and that he was my older brother and that he was there watching me. I was kind of scared at first. When he said that. But then he smiled and he ruffled my hair like you do, and everything was okay. I knew he wasn’t there to scare me or hurt me.”

He merely nods, fighting back the tears that threaten and swallowing around the lump of emotion that sits in his throat. It isn’t so much grief anymore; he’s moved on with his life and became a dad again and can’t imagine NOT having Millie or her siblings in his life. It’s more her view of what happened. It’s innocent and it’s pure and she has no idea that if Austin were still here, she probably wouldn't exist.

“Mommy gets sad when I ask about him,” Millie continues. “Even though he wasn’t hers. I think she’s sad for you. She said that he was still here, I probably wouldn’t be. Or any of us kids. That you and her probably never would have met. Is that true?”

“It’s a possibility. I like to think I still would have met her and fell in love with her and married her. And had all you guys.”

“Do you ever wish that he was still here and we weren’t?”

“You know what…” Tyler scoops her up with one arm and settles her on his hip, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “I would never...EVER...wish that in a million years. Because I love your mommy and I love you and your brothers and sister. I can’t imagine NOT having any of you.”

“Do you miss him though?”

“Sometimes. I used to miss him all the time. And then you came along and I got to be a dad again and it made a lot easier to deal with. And if weren’t here? I’d be pretty sad. I’d miss you a lot.”

“How much?”

“A hell of a lot.”

“I’d miss you too. I always miss you. I wish you weren’t going away. AND taking mommy with you. Won’t you and mommy miss us?”

“Of course we will.”

“Won’t you be bored without us?”

“I think your mom and I will find things to keep us busy.”

“Like what?”

“Like things you don’t need to know about.”

“How come there’s so many things I don’t need to know about yet?”

“Because you’re just a kid. And mommy and I are adults who do adult things. And you don’t need to know what those are.”

“Please no babies,” she begs.

“I already told you…”

“I don’t get why you can’t have more.”

“Amelia…”

She giggles and pulls his baseball cap off, then puts it back on backwards. “Daddy…”

“I’m not telling you where babies come from or how they’re made. But nice try though.”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.”

He laughs. “I think there’s more of your mom in you than people realize. This lady that you saw…”

“I DID see her. She was real. I swear.”

“I believe yo. And when you get home from school. I want you to tell the neighbor about it. About what you saw and what she looked like, okay?”

“Don’t make me talk to her,” Millie pleads. “I don’t like her.”

“I know you don’t. But I still want you to tell her. Please? For me?”

“Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll do it for you. But only for you, daddy.”

“Thank you,” he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Bell’s going to ring soon. You better go.”

“No. Not yet,” she wraps her arms tightly around his neck, clinging desperately to him when he attempts to put her down. “I don’t want you to go yet.”

“I’m only going to be gone for four days,” Tyler promises. “And no bad guys. Just me and mommy.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“And you’ll come back Tuesday for sure?”

“For sure.”

“I’ll miss you, daddy,” she pulls back and kisses him as she holds his face in her hands. “I’ll miss you so much.”

“It’s only four days,” he reminds her.

“I don’t care if it’s one day. I’ll still miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He lays a hand on the back of her head and places his lips against her brow.

“You’ll bring mommy back, yeah?”

“No. I’m going to leave her there with her new husband.”

Millie frowns. “That’s not nice. You’d miss mommy if she was gone.”

“I would,” he agrees. “I’d miss her more than you could ever possibly understand. Now go. Go and see your friends.” He sets her on the ground, then shrugs her backpack off his shoulder and hands it to her. “See you Tuesday.”

“For sure Tuesday?”

“One hundred percent for sure.”

“Okay,” she says, and then wraps her arms tightly around his legs before scampering off towards the playground.

“Hey Amelia!” he calls to her, and she stops and turns to look at him. “Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle!”

A wide, brilliant smile spreads from ear to ear, and he can see those blue eyes sparkle from her stands. “I won’t!” she promises, and then hurries off to join her friends.

****

“You’re worried aren’t you.”

Briefly looking away from the road, he glances over at her as she sits in the passenger seat, watching him intently. Their flight leaves in half an hour; hiring the same old SASR buddy that he’d recruited when he’d gone to see Koen. It’s safer that way if someone is keeping tabs on them; no paper trail, no names on flight manifestos, no record of them ever boarding a flight and heading to The Kimberley. Once in Broome he’d rent a vehicle under a fake name and pay by cash. Anything that has to be done to keep someone...anyone...off their trail.

They’d be wide open targets there; the land vast and barren and unforgiving. And while he’d have the upper hand both knowing the landscape and having the confidence to use it to his advantage, it’s still not a fight he wants to engage in. Guys like Mahajan don’t just send one person, they send an army of them. If he was alone, he wouldn’t think twice about engaging. But when there’s someone else relying on you to keep them safe, it’s a whole other ball game. It raises the stakes; makes everything much more dangerous and dire.

“You’ve been really quiet,” Esme says, as she retrieves a pair of aviator style sunglasses from her purse and slips them onto her face.

True to her word, she’d managed to track down a yellow tank top and a pair of tattered and torn jeans shorts; almost identical to the outfit she’d been wearing when he’d first laid eyes on her. She’s changed since then. They both have. The piercings long gone and her hair six inches shorter. She’s curvier now; hips wider, breasts fuller, ass and legs thicker. She’s carried five babies inside of that little baby, after all. HIS babies. And she’s more beautiful now that she had been back then. And he’d never thought that would be possible.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’ve been like this since you got back from your time with the kids.”

“I’m fine. Just haven’t had much to say.”

She’s used to it. Even after nearly seven years he’s very much the strong and silent type at times. But there’s usually something behind it now; no longer quiet because he’s busy building up walls to protect himself.

“This isn’t your normal quiet,” she remarks. “How you get when you’re not feeling chatty. This is your ‘thinking too much’ kind of quiet. I know you, Tyler. Your different moods. I know your different forms of quiet. It’s all in your face; on your face. I’ve only spent nearly seven years trying to sort them all out.”

He smirks. “Anyone ever tell you that YOU think too much?”

“You’ve only been telling me that nearly every day since we met. I know something’s wrong.”

“There’s A LOT wrong,” he reminds her. “A hell of a lot.”

“I’m not talking about all of that and you know it. Did something happen this morning? When you were with the kids? Did you see something? Hear something?”

“I’m just quiet. Nothing happened. I took them for breakfast, dropped them off at school, that’s it.”

Fuck. He knows full well that he should tell her about what Millie had seen. It will only come back to bite him in the ass somehow. The truth always gets out. Always. Whether it’s a week from now, a month from now, even years from now. He doesn’t even know WHY he does it. Why his initial reaction is to always keep things from her. Whether it’s that overwhelming and sometimes all consuming need to protect her from anything and everything or the fear of putting too much worry and stress on her plate. Or maybe it’s just an old habit he can’t shake; years of bottling shit up and letting it eat away at him.

But instead of just fessing up, he brings up the first thing that comes to mind.

“Did you know our kids know I killed someone with a garden rake?”

Esme laughs. “What?”

“They brought it up at breakfast. About me killing two people with a garden rake.”

“Well I know I didn’t tell them. I try NOT to talk about what you did for a living. Or what you DO for a living. I’m so confused. Do we talk about it in past or present tense?”

The way she cocks her head to the side, the way her eyes are slightly narrowed...that’s all Tanner. He’s seen that expression so many times on their boy. Usually reserved for when someone has said something so incredibly stupid that he can’t wrap his head around it. Millie’s insanely smart, but he’s even more so. He’s brilliant and he’s crafty and he’s sneaky in that ‘under the radar, no one will ever expect it’ way. There’s a lot of his mother in that kid. A hell of a lot.

“It’s what I do,” he reasons. “It’s what I’ve gone back to you. It’s what I am.”

“It’s not who you are,” she gently argues. “It’s part of who you are. There’s a difference. Is that what’s bugging you? That they’re starting to realize just what you do? They were going to find out sooner or later, Tyler. And all they think you do is go and get good people away from bad people. That’s the extent of it right now. And they know sometimes you have to hurt the bad people. Sometimes you even have to kill them,” she shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“They’re kids.”

“They’re smart kids. Insanely smart. All three of them. TJ has the dumb ass act down pat, but he’s a smart little bugger. When you actually sit down and talk to him, he’s like talking to an adult. He has shit in his head that blows MY mind. He’s like you; he keeps it all under the surface and uses it when he has to.”

“Is that some roundabout way of calling me a dumb ass?” he teases.

“You are far from dumb. But people underestimate you, too. They always have. They see the muscles and the tattoos and the scars and they immediately think bad ass. That you’re all brawn and no brains. Yet you’re both. And THAT’S what makes you dangerous.”

He grins. “I’m totally the guy your parents told you to stay away from when you’re growing up, aren’t I.”

“You so are,” she laughs. “You’re my father’s worst nightmare. He would have warmed up to you once he got to know you. He would have at least given you a chance; not like everyone else. But I would have brought you home and he would have seen the hair and the ink and all the scars and he would have shit his pants.”

“Is it wrong that that makes me as happy as it does? Knowing I would have successfully corrupted his little girl?”

“You did a good job of it. Corrupting me. I was a good girl until I met you.”

“Like fuck you were.”

“I was! I was sweet and innocent and…”

“Sweet and innocent girls DO NOT bang a guy they just met. I’m sorry. They just don’t. I love you, but there was nothing sweet and innocent about you when we met. You had your tongue pierced.”

“Lots of girls have tongue pierced. It’s cool. It’s edgy.”

“That’s not why you got your tongue pierced and you know it.”

“Maybe I was holding out hope on finding a guy that would let me use it to its full advantage. And then you showed up and boy, did you let me use it to my advantage.”

“I miss that thing. I think you should get it done again. Just because.”

“Yeah, I know what your ‘just because’ is. Maybe for your birthday. We’ll see.”

“That would be the best birthday present EVER. The gift that keeps on giving.”

“I’m already the mother everyone avoids at the school. Why not add something else to the list of things that make me stick out like a sore thumb. Why is everyone so uptight there? It’s a public school, for fuck sake. They act like it’s some posh private school. And they’re scared of you.”

“Good.”

“I hear the teacher made a play for you. At the bar.”

He frowns.

“What? You didn’t think I’d found out? Koen told me. That she tried to get on your dick. She’s lucky I don’t go there and beat her ass. I mean, it’s flattering that everyone thinks my husband is a hottie and totally fuckable, but don’t actually try.”

“Like the guy at the grocery store? The one with Mustang and the man bun? Seriously, Esme? A guy with a man bun? Talk about downgrading.”

She laughs. “Chad.”

“Chad? He even has a douche name.”

“He is a douche. But he’s only twenty-two, so…”

“You’re a fucking cougar. Atta girl.”

“I can’t believe the kids told you about that.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it.”

“What’s there to tell? He grabbed my ass, I told him to fuck off, and then I told him I was going to tell my husband and you were going to show up and rip him in half. And he’s seen you and he thinks you’re totally capable of doing it.”

“I WILL rip him in half.”

“You’re not going to take a garden tool to him?” she teases. “Maybe a shovel to the head? Chop off his dick with a pair of hedge trimmers?”

“You know what…”

“What? What are you going to do Tyler? Nothing. Because you love when I tease you. When I ride your ass about things.”

He smirks. “I like when you ride me, all right.”

“That is NOT what I was talking about and you know it. I’m surprised you’re taking it so well. Finding out about Chad.”

“Chad and his Mustang and his man bun? Fuck. I’m going in there next week just to freak him out.”

“He’ll shit his pants. He’ll see you and piss himself.”

“Good.”

“I thought you’d be pissed. Which is why I didn’t tell you in the first place. But this? I like this. I like this side of you. The one that just laughs it off and doesn’t lose his shit.”

“You handled it. I’m impressed. You’re little but you’re not to be fucked with. Tanner is definitely your son.”

“He’s a tough little bugger. He’s not afraid of anyone. He’s a lot cagier than anyone thinks. He flies under the radar and surprises everyone. Maybe he’s the one that’s going to follow in your footsteps.”

Tyler frowns. “Why the hell would you want that?”

“You really think one of them won’t? My money was on Declan, but I don’t know, Tanner might shock everyone.”

“I don’t want any one of them being like me. Not that way.”

“It’s not the most horrible thing in the world, you know. If one of them does turn out like you. And I’m not just talking about looks and personality.”

“I know what you’re talking about. And I can’t believe you’d even say that, let alone be okay with it.”

“It’s not like you’re a serial killer. There’s worse things in this world you could be doing, you know.”

“I kill people. For money.”

“That’s not ALL you do, Tyler. It’s part of what you do. And one of them wants into it, we can’t stop them. It’ll happen whether we want it to or not. And if you think your kids are going to suddenly hate you or think less of you because of the job…”

“They might.”

“That will never happen. You’re their dad. What you do for a living has no bearing on how you raise them; what kind of father you are. You’re not the same person at home that you are on the job. All that matters to them is who you are when you’re with them. They don’t give a shit about anything else.”

He wants to believe that. He NEEDS to believe that. That when they're older, all they’ll remember are the good things; the times they spend together and that he was never afraid to show them affection or tell them that he loved him. How he’d tuck them in at night and read them bedtime stories and sometimes even fall asleep alongside them; tall, heavy frame way too large for their small beds, yet never complaining about the neck pain or the stiff back he’d wake up with. He hopes they remember that he TRIED. To be a good man. A good father. That they’re able to look back and say that they watched him treat their mother well; loving her with every fibre of his being.

But the reality of who he is...the things he’s done...it won’t be easy for them to accept. Not when they’re old enough to fully understand things.

And he thinks of Nik and her last ditch attempt to talk him out of settling down. She’d first tried when he’d found out that he was going to be a father again; making the mistake of confiding in her about just how scared he actually was. Not that he was having a baby, but that he’d only fuck things up again. She’d encouraged him to just cut all ties; convince Esme -only three months pregnant at the time- to go back to the States and live her life as a single mother. Telling him that he didn’t need the extra stress and worry while he was trying to recover; a baby would only be a burden he couldn’t afford and shouldn’t take on.

He’d refused to listen; he wasn’t abandoning her or their kid. He was going ‘all in’; they’d move in with one another and get to know each other and have the baby and raise it together. It wasn’t the conventional way of doing things. But they hadn’t started out conventional so why start being that way now? They’d make it work; they’d fall in love if that was in the cards and they’d have a good life and maybe even have more kids. It was the first time in his life -since Austin died- that he felt hopeful; he had a reason to live and not put a gun in his mouth or keep going on suicide missions in hopes of catching a bullet.

The last time she’d tried to ‘get through to him’ was the night before he got married. Asking him to meet her for a few ‘pre congratulatory drinks’ and then both propositioning him and trying to get him to change his mind. Attempting to convince him that this life -a husband, a father- wasn’t meant for someone like him. Someone who had the guilt and the regret and his kind of past. That being a family man AND a merc just wasn’t possible. Did he really want his children finding out years down the road just WHO he was? Did he really think they’d be able to accept that? Did he really think they’d love him knowing the truth?

“Tyler?” Her voice is soft. Concerned. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he gives a reassuring smile. “Just thinking about stuff.”

“Bad stuff or…?”

“No. Just stuff that doesn’t matter anymore and I need to let go.”

“About…?”

“About nothing important. Just an old conversation with someone. About where my life was and where it was heading. Just some shit they said that pisses me off now when I think about it. They weren’t saying it for me. They were saying it for them.”

“We’re talking about Nik aren’t we.”

He nods.

“She won’t stop calling. She won’t stop sending emails. I can’t avoid her forever. YOU can’t avoid her forever. I think she wants to make amends. And normally I’d say ‘fuck her’ and that she made her bed and know she has to lie in it, but I actually feel kind of sorry for her.”

“That’s a first. You feeling sorry for her.”

“First you abandon her. Now Kyle.”

“Okay first off, I didn’t abandon her. There was nothing to abandon. I used to fuck her. That’s it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been so good at it,” Esme teases. “She wouldn’t still be holding on as tight as she is.”

“Or maybe she can just leave me the fuck alone.”

“I don’t think this about wanting to jump on your dick. I think she’s finally gotten the picture that that’s NOT going to happen. I think she’s legitimately hurt. That you went and started your own business without at least telling her. Or giving her the opportunity to partner with you.”

“I don’t want anything to do with her. Tell her that the next time she calls.”

“I have an idea!” She clamps a hand down on his knee. “Why don’t YOU tell her? Nik is your mess, not mine. I’ve spent almost seven years dealing with her shit. I’m done. It’s your turn.”

Tyler sighs.

“Just call her and see what she wants. What’s the worst that could happen? She wants to work with you? Or just wants to reem you out for stealing her people? Just hear her out and hang up on her if you have to.”

“I’ll call her. When we get back.”

“And please call Yaz. He says he wants to talk to you. That he has an offer for you.”

“What kind of offer?”

“He wouldn’t tell me. Just that he had an offer and you needed to hear it. So call him too. So I don’t have to keep putting up with these people. Because I’m on my last thread of sanity and if I lose that last threat…”

“I’ll be the one paying for it.”

“Exactly! See? You get it. Only took you nearly seven years to figure out how things work. Happy wife, happy life, right? You’re catching on.”

“You and your fucking mouth…”

“You love me. And my mouth.”

“I’m not denying EITHER of those things.”

“I’m not talking about what I do with my mouth. I’m talking about what comes out of it.”

He smirks. “Sure you are…”

“Your mind is permanently in the gutter. Middle age suits you.”

“Fuck you and your middle age crap. I’ve still got at least fifteen years to go before I’m middle age.”

“Tyler, no one lives to be a hundred and ten.”

“You just watch me.”

“You know what? You’d be the one who would. You’d be the one that after getting shot, stabbed, hit with a shovel, hit by a car, everything else that’s been done to you and you’ve been through, that WOULD live that long. Somehow that makes sense. The one that should have died a long time ago ends up living that long.”

“I’m too stubborn to die.”

“I’ve never heard anything MORE true. I like hearing this kind of talk from you. Instead of the doom and the gloom. Instead of hearing you talk about not coming home and being stuck in Mumbai and…”

“Hey…” he reaches out and takes her hand in his, settling them on his thigh. “...let’s NOT talk about Mumbai, okay? For four days, let’s not talk about that. Or the job. Let’s just...I don’t know...talk about normal stuff. The weather and what we want to eat and things we want to do. I don’t care how boring it is or how stupid is seems. I just want us to be...I don’t know...normal.”

“Have we met? Neither of us are normal.”

“Okay, so our version of normal. I don’t want to talk about Mumbai or Mahajan or the job or…”

“If you didn’t want to talk about it or think about it, you wouldn’t have brought THAT,” she lifts the bottom of his t-shirt and nods down at the holster and gun on his right hip.

“Might have to kill a dingo. Wasn’t that in the wedding vows too? That I wouldn’t let a dingo get you?”

“That’s what hunting rifles are for. Not Glocks.”

“Just better to be safe than sorry. We don’t know who is out there. If anyone IS out there.”

“Do you think there is? Someone out there? Watching us?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’d tell me, right? If you felt that way?”

He nods.

“You know what’s funny? You’re the one that is talking about us ‘talking’ when we’re there. I’m the one that’s looking forward to the sex.”

He chuckles. “Well I’m looking forward to THAT too. Weird hearing you mention it first though.”

She laughs. “I can’t help it. There’s something wrong with my hormones. That’s all I’ve been thinking about lately.”

“And you call me ‘extra’.”

“I want to have all the sex,” she enthuses. “With you. All of it. Like dirty, raunchy, adult sex. The kind we can’t have at home because we always have to worry about kids interrupting us. I mean hard core sex. Like in Dhaka. Where I can make all the noise I want and no one can hear it.”

“Everyone in the hotel in Dhaka heard. They all knew my name and I never told anyone of them my name. So…”

“Remember the time the people next to us complained to the manager? The second night? I think they were just jealous. They wished they were getting dicked down that good.”

“I do miss that kind of thing,” he admits. “It’s a turn on. Hearing you.”

“You’re such a bad influence. I really WAS a good girl before I met you. I don’t know what got into me.”

“I know exactly what got into you.”

“Well if you weren’t so good at these things…”

“Isn’t that part of why you married me?” he chides. “Because I am good at those things?”

“One of the reasons. There’s a lot of them. Reasons. I really married you because of your hair, so technically I should have filed for divorce the second you made me shave it off.”

“I’m growing it back. Relax.”

“And you’re getting scruffy again,” she grins, and rubs her hand against his cheek. “You’re all sorts of sexy. No wonder I put out so much. And it’s going to be good for us. Getting away. And not just because of sex. Just to be alone together. Be able to relax and just...I don’t know...be together. We haven’t had that in a long time.”

He nods in agreement. “I don’t know if we’ve ever really had that. And no. Dhaka does NOT count.”

“That’s because you were getting paid to have sex with me.”

“In a weird way, yeah.”

“I really was whoring myself out to you.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just something someone said. It’s not important. What’s important is us and the next four days. And me NOT getting eaten by a dingo.”

He laughs at that. “I’ll protect you from all the dingoes, baby.”

“I know,” she smiles, and then rests her head against his shoulder. “You'll protect me from ANYTHING.”

He nods in agreement. It’s true. He WOULD protect her from anything. Anyone.

No matter what it costs.

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #best part of me #chris hemsworth character

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tropicalfreckles · 4 years

Text

Friends Again CH 4

MASTER LIST found here

B**TLEB*BES DNI

Summary: Lydia always wondered how everything worked with the ghost-born demon, including how he was able to leave the house without being sandworm chow.

WARNINGS: Spiders, Body Horror, Ommetaphobia

"Adam, Barbara, I'm telling you that this crystal would just bring such positive energy to the room!" Delia exclaimed while throwing her arms into the air in dramatic fashion. Barbara followed close on Delia's heels as the younger, deceased woman clasped her hands together.

"Delia I understand you're having another one of your 'inspiration episodes'. How about we just decorate the top of the fireplace with some of the crystals. Instead of having a giant one placed in the middle of the room?" A strained smile creased Barbara's lips as she tried to compromise with her friend. Adam gave a short nod to his wife's idea.

"I agree with Barbara. It would look a lot more balanced than just having it in the middle of the room." Adam motioned to the whole room as he gave a small smile to Delia. She looked them both over then peered to the fireplace.

"You know, I think you're right Barbara! It probably would get tedious walking around the crystal every time we need to sit on the couch. I'll need to look into which crystals I want to put up there." Delia rubbed her chin in thought. Barbara and Adam exhaled a breath neither needed to hold. Charles had been sitting off to the side and gave the two a subtle thumbs up. The older man's attention turned to the creaking footsteps of the familiar combat boots that came from upstairs. A soft smile crept upon him as he gave Lydia a nod.

"Did you need something, Lydia?" Charles set down the book that was in his hand as he stood up from the chair he had been in. Lydia jumped down the last two steps then looked up to her father.

"I just wanted to go on a walk around the neighborhood. I'll be back." Lydia began heading to the door after giving him a short wave. Charles briefly gazed down to his watch before turning fully to look back to her.

"You have your phone on you, right?" He inquired.

"Yes, dad. Don't worry so much." Lydia waved him off. The young teen gave her goodbyes to the others then made her way out the door. That was easier than she thought it would be. Well, it wasn't like she was going across town. Her dad had been a bit more protective of her ever since the events that followed their move to their new house. Always making sure she had her phone on her in case anything happened. She began to tread down the steps of their front porch. She made sure to be careful of her footing across the unruly grass that needed to be tended to. A gust of wind blew by as she felt the pressure whip around her back. Lydia shuddered while gripping onto her arms.

"Chuck must be the trusting type, huh?" Beetlejuice chuckled. The demon hovered nearby her and gave her a thumbs up.

"I mean telling my family I'm going out for a walk isn't really that suspicious." Lydia shrugged. "So.. about that stuff from earlier." Beetlejuice gave her a hum in response as the two slowly walked down the hill. "Did you actually go look for your dad? Or were you just being dramatic?" Beetlejuice wrinkled his nose.

"Well, yeah. I just wanted to make you feel guilty. Getting sent back to the Netherworld right now is not on my to-do list. Why the hell would I even go look for that deadbeat?" He grunted then kicked his feet to the ground to float away from it. Lydia jumped over a big rock jutting out of the dirt as she watched him.

"So what exactly were you doing there? Did you get in trouble at all for the stuff we did months ago?" Lydia asked. The demon crossed his arms, his eyes traveling away from her.

"They had me holed up in some shithole for two months in 'breather time' I guess. Time works a helluva lot differently in the Netherworld. It dragged the fuck on when they put me on paperwork duty. It was a temp job to keep me there for whatever reason. That's what I was up to for the last couple of months. I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled. Small streaks of reds, blues, and yellows bled into his green hair. Lydia decided it was best not to push the moody demon for now. She was curious why he seemed to be cutting her so short on details yet knew she had to let him open upon it in his own time. Lydia still found it odd to even herself she wanted to work things out with him. Like being around him at all. She figured it was just still wanting real closure with him. Would she keep up hanging out with him like this? She wasn't sure. It was just somewhere to start at least. Lydia moved to playfully punch at the older man's arm.

"Fine, fine. At least you're not stuck there anymore." She waved him off. "Now you get to hear that beautiful sound again." Lydia gave him a wicked smile, Beetlejuice lighting up to her words.

"Now you're talking. Let's go scare the shit out of some chumps!" He gave a sharp-toothed grin then shortly after moved behind her. Wrapping his arms under her armpits he then lifted her up into the air. He flew down to the bottom of the hill after making sure there weren't any breathers that would notice them. Lydia let out a small yelp followed after with a shriek of laughter.

"Don't you dare drop me!" She clung to his arms and gave a kick of her legs. Beetlejuice snorted.

"Please, you weigh practically nothing, Lyds. Thought you wanted to try that trusting crap out more. This is a good trust exercise if you ask me!" He snickered as he flew them over to the closest house then landed them both down at the side of it behind some bushes. Lydia gave him a small scowl when she turned to him as she fixed her dress.

"Give me a heads up next time at least. Asshole." Lydia scolded. She turned to look at the house next to them. Thoughts of what kind of scare they should go with began to run through her head. Should they just wing it? Or come up with a solid plan. Last time they scared together it all just kind of happened naturally. Maybe they should just go with their guts. It would be nice to blow some steam off doing this for an hour or two after. Therapy helped her with more things than she thought it would after slowly opening up. Though this was a thrill that really helped her let loose. Especially with the stress of school, she was going through at the moment. Beetlejuice seemed to notice her overthinking it since he gave her a hardy slap on the back. She grunted then shot him a glare.

"Don't overthink it, kid! Let's just see if the old bat is home first." He smirked at her. Giving her a signal with a wave of his hand the two approached the windows quietly. Beetlejuice phased his head through it then scanned the room. A light was on upstairs so that must be where she was. It would take a good minute or two for her to answer the door if they decided to get Lydia inside the more legal way. He couldn't exactly phase her through the wall as he could. If she was dead that would be another story. However, he wasn't planning on letting her join him on the side of the deceased any time soon. He could always just teleport her inside as well. He was so engrossed with his thoughts he hadn't even hear heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. He noticed last second when they echoed louder down the steps and made himself invisible once more. Phasing out he pushed Lydia's head down below the window so she wouldn't be seen.

"Hey!" She frowned then swatted his hand away. He hushed her as he narrowed his eyes. Shit, maybe it was the wrong house? Coming down the stairs instead was a man who was definitely younger than the old lady he saw here just yesterday. Either way, they could still scare him. He looked like one of those overly paranoid and religious types. An obvious comb-over on a very pale head. Khakis that made even the ones Adam wear look like they were in fashion. A pale-blue plaid shirt. This man was probably the dullest breather he ever laid eyes on. Which was saying quite a bit. Beetlejuice ducked below after taking note of which direction in the house he moved to.

"Alright, new plan. Either the old bag has another breather living with her or this is someone else's house. We can still work with this. Old bastard looks like one of those old testament fans." He snorted. Lydia crossed her arms.

"I don't remember him living here. I could've sworn it was an old lady, too. I remember dad talking to her more than once this year." Lydia looked up at the window then sighed. "I mean, it doesn't matter either way I guess. I want to scare someone today. Alright. So how do we get me in there?" She swung her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the front of the house. Beetlejuice stroked his chin.

"That's what I was mulling over. I could dress you up to look creepy. Go with the ol' ghost kid scare, teleport you in." Lydia's expression brightened at this new revelation.

"Wait you can teleport yourself places?" Lydia questioned. She couldn't help but let her curiosity peak through.

"Within reason, yeah. I still can't exactly go much further than this damn neighborhood at the moment when I'm summoned. Since the only graveyard around is the one on the other side of your house. I'd need to be invisible to look for another one to go through." He explained while periodically peering through the window. Lydia was intrigued by what limitations his powers held. Lydia tapped her hand on her thigh in thought.

"That why you didn't just up and leave for good? You're stuck here?" Lydia questioned, giving a tilt of her head. Beetlejuice clicked his tongue while his fingers flexed into the palms of his hands as he fidgeted in place.

"Listen if you want a rundown of how I work I'll give you the short version. When I'm summoned directly from the Netherworld I'm stuck with the breather that did it until I can get another sap to summon me. It's some complicated bullshit that goes along with my little shtick." He rambled on. Lydia crossed her legs while sitting on the ground now.

"I remember you saying before ghosts couldn't leave the houses they stay in. How the hell were you able to leave after I summoned you a week ago? Thought sandworms would be waiting out there for you. I actually wondered that when I woke up for my nap." She rested her cheek against her hand. Beetlejuice groaned. Why were kids so fucking nosy. He rubbed his hands over his face as he thought over his next few words.

"Yes, okay, yeah. Typically I can't leave the damn house. The normal way at least. I'm not really housebound as much as ghosts are since demons work on a different set of rules. If I walk out a door I'd be worm chow. If I however can see a graveyard within distance, or if there is one at least sort-of-nearby I can just fly out the window. It's like a way station for demons. I can travel through more when I'm not summoned. Invisible. I also can travel further distances when summoned if I left the Netherworld the way I usually do. However since you summoned me straight out of it; I'm stuck with you until once again, someone else says my name." He was standing now, pacing back and forth as he went listing off how things worked. "Once I leave the graveyard I can also go around to the houses in the area freely without worrying about those worms. I can't leave the neighborhood itself though." Beetlejuice huffed as his gaze traveled back down to Lydia.

"Sooo. What if someone who summons you after me says your name three times again. Do you just become invisible once more or go back to the Netherworld?" Lydia got back up to her feet. Beetlejuice frowned a bit.

"Honestly. Not too sure. I think I just become invisible again. What, you planning on getting Chuck or Delia to do that?" His face scrunched up as he got defensive again. Lydia shook her head with an annoyed sigh.

"No, I told you I wouldn't do that. I promised. So long as you don't try murdering me or my family then we're good." Lydia tapped a finger to her chin. "Okay. One last question then we figure out how to scare this guy. You said you can make me look all creepy. How do we do that?" Beetlejuice rubbed the palms of his hands together as he let out a wicked cackle.

"Leave that to me." A snap of his fingers and Lydia's dress appeared more weathered and tattered, her hair becoming disheveled. He gave another snap as a makeup kit appeared in his hands. He gently grabbed her face with one hand, as another arm grew out of his back to start applying the makeup while his other hand held the case. Lydia stared at the third arm growing out of his back. "Little makeup here, there. Make you paler. Gotta put more bags under your eyes annnd... few scars here." His tongue stuck out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated on his work.

"Done!"

Lydia pulled from him when his hands moved away. With a flick of his wrist, the makeup box was replaced with a mirror he promptly showed to Lydia. She moved the pads of her fingers over her cheek while gazing into it. She definitely looked a lot more dead. He somehow made her eyes look sunken in as well. He was pretty good with makeup to her surprise. She kind of wished he made her look more gruesome and mangled. Oh well, maybe for the next scare. She was getting as antsy as he probably was and wanted to jump into it already. Speaking of Beetlejuice, he seemed to be staring at her as if expecting something. Oh.

"It looks pretty good, Beej. I look creepy." Lydia grinned. Beetlejuice puffed out his chest with pride then held out his hand for her. She grimaced a little. He definitely hadn't washed his hands in ever. Definitely the same gross, creepy old guy she first met. Lydia could grin and bare this. Taking his hand she gave him a nod. He pulled her close.

"So I've never actually teleported a breather before. It might be a little overwhelming...even if it's just literally inside the house next to us." He gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Oh well. Let's just jump into it!" He turned to look inside of the window. Lydia was starting to have second thoughts about this. Too late, however, she felt a wind pressure engulf her as her other hand clung to his arm. In a flash of blinding light she felt weightless. Dizziness washed over Lydia for a moment as she closed her eyes tightly. A second later she felt a hand gently patting her shoulder followed by a quiet voice.

"Hey. Kid. You good?" Beetlejuice muttered. Lydia let go of him then grabbed at her head.

"Yeah. You were right. It was kind of overwhelming. I'm fine, though." She reassured him. Her eyes traveled around the room. They really were inside of the house. The teen couldn't help the rush of excitement bubble inside of her. She didn't feel like she could be in danger since having a demon as her partner was guaranteed her safety. Especially since he's saved her life once before. Though at the same time the thought of getting caught was kind of exhilarating as much as it was worrying. She gently patted the back of her hand against his arm.

"So what now?" Lydia asked in a hushed tone. She was smart enough to not let the person or possibly multiple people living there know of their presence quite yet.

Beetlejuice studied the house. The sun was starting to set more in the sky. Good, this could work for him. He quietly motioned for her to stay low and follow him as best she could. He moved to peer around the corner. First, he figured it would be good to start to get rid of the other lights. With a clap of his hand, the lights all began to dim and flicker. He had to make a good show of it to set the unease in for the occupants of the home. Then all of the light bulbs on the first floor burnt out. A surprised grunt followed by a short string of cursing followed suit. Lydia tried not to snicker while Beetlejuice giddily bounced in place. He rolled his shoulders then looked over to Lydia.

"Okay. I got him warmed up. I think he's the only one in here. So he doesn't think you're an intruder, I'll do some classic shadow scares to get him on edge before you come out. Do whatever comes naturally for ya." Beetlejuice turned to place his hands against the walls. Lydia took a step back to watch in awe as shadows shot out from under them. They bled up into the walls then scattered to the living room down the hall. Some peeled off of the wall to make inhuman long strides around. They were all shaped like him as well. As dusk began to set in all around the house the shadows became more inhuman in form then all slithered out of view. Lydia watched until the last one was out of sight. She then slowly started creeping down the hallway as quietly as she could. Beetlejuice had already phased through a wall off ahead of her. She could hear the pounding of her own heart. Her breath stilled. A panicked shuffling could be heard followed by some clattering of items in the other room. The man was worked up. Perfect for her. Lydia changed her expression the best she could to something eerier than slid her fingers along the corner of the doorway in front of her. Slowly she crept around the corner while jerking her body and making a low moan that echoed into a clicking sound.

"What in the name of Christ-!!" A terrified older man stood before her, a lamp in his hand that he gripped close to his chest. His eyes were wide as he trembled in place. Unable to make a move to even attempt an attack on her Lydia seized this opportunity to scream at the top of her lungs at him while dragging one of her feet behind her. The guy let out the loudest, blood-curdling scream he could muster then slammed the lamp on the ground. He started to run around to the other exit of the room only to body slam straight into Beetlejuice. Who appeared to have made himself noticeably quite larger. Spider legs were growing out of his back and he had multiple eyes opening over every visible bit of skin on his undead body. The man had fallen back onto his rear as he tried backing up from the demon while Beetlejuice dislocated his arms and made a swing at him. The guy just barely managed to dodge him before scurrying on all fours underneath a hovering Beetlejuice. Within seconds the two heard the front door slam as he screamed all the way out of the house. Lydia and Beetlejuice moments later both erupted in a gleeful fit of laughter.

"Holy crap! That was so much fun!" Lydia grabbed at her stomach as she cackled. Beetlejuice shifted his body back to normal as he wiped at a faux-tear.

"I think he legit pissed himself when you came around the corner and made those noises at him! It was great!" Beetlejuice held up his hand to give her a high-five, Lydia surprising even herself, reciprocated it. Both of them grinned wide at the other. "Ahhh shit. We should do some more!" Beetlejuice clapped his hands together. Before Lydia could respond, a repetitive pinging sound erupted from the pocket of her dress. Lydia heaved a sigh then pulled it out.

"I'd love to, however, looks like dad's telling me to come home." Lydia gave an annoyed huff. Beetlejuice frowned as he gave her a 'tsk'. He hovered over to the hallway then looked straight out to the front door.

"Well, looks like guy high-tailed it out of here. Think you can walk out the door. Sure you can't just skip curfew and act like a true rebellious teen?" He peered over his shoulder to her. Lydia considered this for a moment then gave a shake of her head.

"No can do. Normally I would, just... I don't want to get grounded and miss out on more scaring this week." Lydia shrugged as she walked towards the front door. Beetlejuice perked up a little.

"Scare more?" He smirked.

"Yeah, I only got a little taste of scaring again today. I want more." Lydia playfully shoved him then wiped the makeup off her face. "Oh. Could you change my dress back? I actually like this one." The teen grabbed at the edge of her dress and picked it up for emphasis. Beetlejuice snapped his fingers, the dress glowing then shortly after returned to how it once was.

"Alright. So. Same time tomorrow?" He grinned at her. "I'll skulk nearby to check in on you earlier in the day so we don't have to cut it short."

"Yeah, sounds like a plan. Tomorrow I don't have school either so it works." Lydia gave him a nod. She closed the door behind them when she walked out after making sure no one would notice her. "I'll meet you outside tomorrow. I don't want the Maitlands to see you on the roof." She held out her hand for him. Beetlejuice took it then gave it a shake.

"Deal!"

#beetlejuice #beetlejuice fanfiction #my writings #beetlejuice the musical #beetlejuice musical #beetlejuice broadway #beetlejuice bway #lydia deetz

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cdelphiki · 5 years

Text

Damian didn’t scream.

That was the first thing Dick noticed. Aside from his own internal panic of shit shit shit the kid’s been shot, of course. Even though it was just with a dart of fear toxin and not like, an actual bullet, it still got Dick’s heart racing just a little quicker.

But Damian wasn’t screaming. Dick had seen each of the other kids on fear toxin, as well as hundreds of random civilians. There was always screaming. Crying, shouting, screaming. And yet, Damian was doing none of that.

Keeping the kid in his peripherals, Dick finished taking out Scarecrow and tied him up nice and pretty for the GCPD. It was actually fairly easy, since he, too, was unnerved by Robin’s lack of screaming. The tiny little 10-year-old’s apparent lack of fear.

“Robin?” Dick asked as he slowly approached. It was clear Damian was hallucinating. At least, Dick thought it was. Since Damian had quit fighting and was standing there, stiffly. He just wasn’t scared.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, kneeling down in front of Damian as he did a visual scan of the boy, his hands hovering an inch or so from Damian’s body, afraid to touch him and risk setting him off, “can you hear me?”

In response, all Damian did was take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, through his nose. A move Dick recognized as meant to calm one down. To slow a heart rate and keep panic at bay.

So perhaps Damian was scared. Did he know what was happening then? And was responding accordingly? Staying calm because he knew none of what he was seeing was real?

Dick had no idea.

“Hey,” he said gently as he loaded a clean syringe up with a full dose of the antitoxin, “I’m going to give you some medicine that will make it stop, okay, kid? Can you hear me?”

Damian didn’t respond, so Dick very carefully grasped onto Damian’s upper arm, testing the waters to see how violent a reaction he’d have to touch. Considering normal Damian was quick to kick or punch, or as Tim had discovered the one time he ‘accidentally’ ruffled Damian’s hair, bite, Dick was preparing himself to defend against a ruthless, violent attack.

Instead, Damian gasped, almost inaudibly, as he shut his eyes tight.

“It’s okay, D,” he said as he gripped a little tighter, allowing him to stab the syringe right into Damian’s thigh. Straight through his uniform.

The boy didn’t even flinch.

But then Damian said, with an almost unnoticeable shake to his voice, “I’m sorry.” If one didn’t know Damian, it would have gone unnoticed. But Dick did know Damian. He’d been the primary caretaker…. Well that was probably actually Alfred. He was the one who got them to sleep and eat and such.

He’d been the primary emotional caregiver to Damian for nearly six months. Ever since Bruce died.

“What for?” he asked in as soothing a tone as the Batman gravel would allow, “You’re okay, you did nothing wrong.”

While he let the antitoxin run its course, Dick pulled out his batphone to let Gordon know Scarecrow was ready for pick up. The entire time, he kept his hand on Damian’s arm, making sure he stayed put.

The boy didn’t move. He didn’t try to pull away, even as his body began shaking, ever so slightly.

“Robin?” Dick said, pocketing his phone and looking back over at the boy.

“Please,” Damian whispered.

The hint of desperation in Damian’s voice was enough to make Dick drop the Batman voice all together. “Please what, bud?”

“I’m sorry. Grayson- I- I’m-”

“Shhhhh,” Dick said, running his free hand up and down Damian’s arm, trying his best to sooth the panic he could see rising in the boy. Why wasn’t the antitoxin working? It should only take a couple minutes, and Damian only seemed to be getting worse.

“Its okay. You’re okay,” Dick started to repeat, as he stood, “Come on, we need to get you home and synthesize a new antitoxin.”

“Grayson, please,” Damian choked out, in a painful sounding aborted sob. The poor kid was struggling not to cry, now, and that only seemed to make it all worse.

Dick wanted nothing more than for Damian to go back to not being scared.

Was he ever not scared? Or had the fear just become so intense that he could no longer hide it?

He didn’t even want to think about the implications of a 10-year-old being able to hide his fear so well, he appeared to have none while on fear toxin.

“What is it?” he asked softly, dropping back down to a crouch so he could brush his fingers across Damian’s cheek before checking his pulse.

“I apologize, I-”

His pulse was racing. At least 150bpm. “You’re okay kiddo, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

Just as a tear escaped out of Damian’s domino and down his cheek, Damian tensed up. He quickly swiped it away as his entire body went completely rigid, all trace of emotion vanished from his face. “It was a mistake,” he said stiffly, “I can be better. I promise. I will. Please.”

Dick let go abruptly, just so he could pull Damian in close, squishing his tense little body right into his chest. Because that’s what this kid needed right now. A hug.

A hug and probably a lifetime’s worth of therapy. But they could all use that, so Dick wasn’t really one to talk there.

“Don’t send me back,” Damian whispered, both unbothered and unnoticing of his new position being crushed in Dick’s arms.

“I would never,” Dick whispered back, wishing beyond hope that his words would penetrate whatever hallucination Damian was stuck in.

When Dick was tripping on fear gas, he’d watch his parents fall to their deaths. Then watch Bruce. Then Jason. And Tim. And Alfred. Babs and Wally. And probably Damian, now, too.

Tim, as far as Dick could tell, usually saw everyone he loved die. Everyone important in his life turn their backs on him and leave him all alone.

Bruce had usually witnessed each of them dying. Collapsed down onto the ground and cried for each of his children.

Damian, though. Damian apparently saw himself getting kicked out by Dick and sent back to the League of Assassins. He tensed up and waited for the blows to come, for Dick, or whoever Damian was seeing, to take their disappointment in him out on him physically.

His favorite little kid was so used to being hit that he didn’t even try to fight it. The same kid that fought everything. That screamed and bit and stabbed for a simple hair ruffle. For looking at him the wrong way.

“Oh, Damian,” he whispered, blinking back the tears that had started to well in his eyes. Crying right now would not be good. He needed to get them home. And with the sound of sirens growing closer, he needed to get them out of there soon.

Dick stood, only letting go of his grip on Damian enough to scoop him up into his arms and carry him, bridal style, to the Batmobile. He wrapped his cape around the boy tightly, as if the trembling mess of a child in his arms could be comforted by it.

Damian didn’t speak again. In fact, he seemed to completely leave his body. His heart-rate slowed down as his breathing became steady. The trembling stopped, and he just lay there, in Dick’s arms, completely limp as Dick continued walking them to the Batmobile.

With a deep breath, Dick tried to get the hand that was clamping down on his heart and making his entire chest seize to let up. There was nothing he could do about any of this until he got them home and made a new antitoxin. Until the fear toxin was out of Damian’s body, nothing he said or did would fix anything.

Once he reached the Batmobile, he opened the passenger door and carefully set Damian down on the seat, detaching his cape as he did so he could leave it wrapped around Damian. “I love you,” he whispered, as he pushed back Damian’s hair and planted a kiss on his forehead, “We’ll fix this, okay? Just hang in there, bud.”

- - -

It took far too long to synthesize a new antitoxin. Three hours. And that was with him and Alfred both working tirelessly on it.

Three hours Damian was trapped in the hellscape that was his mind.

After twenty minutes, Alfred had sedated him. Dick knew being sedated while on fear gas or toxin didn’t end the nightmares, but it would prevent Damian from hurting himself or someone else in his hallucinations.

Not that he had done anything more than tremble.

Dick hated to see him disassociate. It killed him to see. Because the kid was 10. He was 10 and strong and very capable. He could defend himself against anything, Dick knew.

Had his life really been so terrible that the only option he had when faced with his greatest nightmares was to just disconnect himself from reality? To pretend nothing was happening and go off somewhere else?

What horrors has he experienced, that this was his only option? That not even he could escape them?

Grayson, please.

And… had he been begging Dick not to hurt him? Or begging him to help him?

Once the antitoxin was finished and they’d given him two doses of it, Dick found himself sitting at Damian’s bedside. He held onto one of Damian’s hands, while his other gently traced up and down his arm, trying his best to be soothing and comforting, in the way Damian would never allow while conscious.

That’s how Alfred found him when he came down to check on Damian’s vitals some time later.

“I knew,” Dick said, laying his head down in his arm next to Damian, “that he wasn’t treated well. I knew his training was bad. But Alfred-” he had to pause, because his voice broke and he had to clear his throat.

When he looked up at Alfred, he noticed his vision was blurring, and he couldn’t even find it in him to wipe the tears away. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he whispered, just letting himself cry right in front of everyone for once in his life, “God, Alfred, how do we fix this? No wonder he doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, rounding the bed to place a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “I believe at this point, all we can do is be there for him. Remind him of our love and be patient with him. It is not as hopeless as you might think.”

“What if he never trusts us?” Dick said, sitting up and rubbing at his face, “Never believes us?”

Alfred just pat at his shoulder and said, “If we do not give him a reason to distrust us, he will, eventually.”

“He thought I was going to hurt him,” Dick whispered, turning his attention to his little brother’s face. To the peaceful, sleeping, baby face of Damian Wayne. “Whoever he thought I was, at least. He thought-”

Alfred just squeezed his shoulder.

“How could they? Alfred, how could they?” After pushing Damian’s hair back and giving him another kiss on the forehead, Dick laid his head back down, right next to Damian’s, and let himself feel all the pain Damian never indulged in himself. All the while, Alfred stood next to him, his hand still offering that comfort on his back as he cried.

- - -

Damian woke late that morning, nearly near lunch time. Dick had carried him up to the penthouse, so he’d be in a more comfortable environment when he woke. As much as Dick knew Damian loved the bunker, he figured waking up to a warm living room would be better than waking up in a dark, steel cave.

“Grayson,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, “What happened?”

Dick, who had been sitting on the floor, his back to the couch Damian was laying on, turned and smiled at Damian. His hair was a mess and he was rubbing at his face like a normal little 10-year-old, annoyed at being woken for school so early.

“Dami, hey pal,” he said softly, grabbing the remote and muting the television he’d been watching, “How are you feeling?”

After sitting up, Damian scrunched his eyebrows at Dick, in that way he always did when trying to decide what to share with Dick.

“Honest assessment,” Dick added, softening his face to convey to Damian that he wasn’t going to be mad about anything.

“Minor headache. That is all.”

Nodding, because that was probably accurate, Dick asked, “What do you remember?”

Damian took a long minute to think, his eyes narrowed before he finally said, “Patrol… Crane. We were fighting Crane, but then…. I- I’m not sure.” He looked at Dick, then around the room, as if he were checking out the environment to compare against the memories he had. Trying to figure out how he got from one place to the other.

“You got dosed with fear toxin.”

“Ah,” Damian said, the confusion on his face completely vanishing as he nodded, “That would explain it.”

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

“No.” The word wasn’t sharp, but it was quick to come, and Dick knew he probably had to accept it. It didn’t mean Dick wasn’t going to talk about what Damian saw.

“Okay,” he said, pushing himself up onto the couch next to Damian, “Can I have a hug?”

“Why?” Damian asked slowly, looking over at Dick skeptically. Not with fear, though, Dick was relieved to see. Just confusion and maybe a touch of disdain. Damian really did hate physical affection, didn’t he?

“It’s been a rough night.”

“Were you injured?”

“No,” Dick said, smiling again, “But the kid I love dearly had to be sedated.”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked away. But a second later, he leaned toward Dick, the only invitation to pull him in for a hug Dick was going to get.

So Dick did, squeezing as tight as he could without Damian protesting. “I love you,” he whispered, fighting back the tears again, because apparently he was a mess now, “So much, Damian. You have no idea. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

“Did I say something,” Damian asked slowly, not pulling away but not melting into Dick’s embrace either, “while incapacitated?”

“Not really. You were pretty quiet. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Damian nodded and whispered after a minute or so, “I know.”

“And you know I’d never hurt you, right? No matter what? Not as a punishment, not as training, nothing. I’ll never hurt you.”

“What did I say?” Damian demanded, shifting in Dick’s arms, turning his back a little more so his shoulder was resting against Dick’s chest.

“You didn't say anything.”

“Clearly I said something,” Damian said dryly, still wiggling in Dick’s arms until he was in a more comfortable position.

Dick had to stifle a smile at that, because not only was Damian allowing a hug, but he was basically snuggling down so Dick could just hold him. He was probably telling himself it was for Dick, but Dick knew he didn’t have that level of patience for unwanted physical affection. This was wanted.

“What do you think you said?” Dick asked, bringing a hand up to comb through Damian’s hair. To try and tame the bed head that had developed throughout the night.

The silence stretched, even as Damian reached up and grabbed Dick’s hand, pulling it away from his hair and back down around himself.

When Damian continued to stay silent, Dick asked, “Is this a fear you have, Damian?”

“No.”

And there was that word again. That lie. Because this time, it was said with less conviction. With hesitancy. And Dick knew that this time, if he just stayed quiet, Damian would start talking.

“I know it’s different here.”

“Good. Good,” Dick said, shifting himself on the couch, throwing one leg up on it, so he could lay back a tad more comfortably with Damian, “That’s… good.”

“I…” Damian said slowly, very softly, “I like it here.”

“I like having you here, Damian. I love having you here.”

As Dick started caressing Damian’s arm, just allowing the silence to envelop them, he realized. Damian had never mentioned liking being there. He’d never said anything about his preference of where he lived.

Like he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Didn’t want to admit to someone he even had a preference. It was always just ‘acceptable,’ the plans they made. Moving to the penthouse. Dick being his guardian and Batman. Fighting crime and being homeschooled.

‘Don’t send me back,’ he had begged.

“And no matter what you do,” Dick said, squashing down all the emotions that bubbled up at that, “I’ll never make you leave, either. This is your home, Damian, and you’re always welcome in it.”

Damian nodded and turned around so his face was half hidden in Dick’s shirt, so Dick let him. He pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch and over them as he pretended not to notice Damian cry his silent cry.

Carefully, Dick reached down to the floor for the remote and unmuted the television, allowing the sound of the Nature Channel take over the room, and he spent the rest of the morning laying there with his little brother. Just holding him and reminding him he’s loved.

#I made myself feel things #Dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Fear Gas #Fear Toxin #Robin #Batman #dickanddamiweek2019 #brother relationship #father son realationship #angst #emotional hurt/comfort #batfamily #batfam #batbros #c writes

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alindakb · 4 years

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Letters to my Parents - Sunday 23 April 1995 - by Alinda

Sunday 23 April 1995

Dear mom and dad,

On our last Hogsmeade weekend, I bought a ton of socks for Dobby. Draco and I figured he deserved them after giving me the Gillyweed. If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to perform the second tasks. Dobby thanked us and said it was nothing, that he had to help me save master Draco. Dobby also complimented my nails, he likes the green colour I like to wear. He says it suits me. And Draco agrees with him. Every weekend Draco fixes my nails after I’ve braided his hair. Blaise has started to complain we start to look like girls, always busy with our nails and hair. It was funny, Draco wanted to open his mouth and say something about it to Blaise, but Greg, Daphne, Millicent and Luna all told him to shut up and do his studies. Draco and I laughed at him when he gives them all an angry look and then turned back to his homework.

We have lots of homework during these Easter holidays, so all of us agreed it would be best to stay at the school and study together. We just get a lot more done when we can help each other. I don’t know how Hermione manages with all her extra classes. Draco and I have gotten extra homework and I have no idea when to do it all. First off, I’m back to somewhat more regular visits to Miss Davis. I see her once a month now, just to make sure I’m dealing in a healthy way with this bond thing and the TriWizard tournament. She doesn’t give me that much homework, but she does want me to keep a track of when I’m feeling down or overwhelmed with everything and what is happening at those moments to talk them over in our therapy.

And then there is the extra homework we’ve gotten from the Ministry of Magic. Draco and I passed all the tests with flying colours and it’s official now. We are bonded by the Corpora Anima Una bond. We’ve gotten all these extra books we need to read to understand what it all means. It also means we get special treatment in the case of injuries and stuff because it will affect both of us. I wondered if it could also mean that we have to take all our exams together, that would help me loads with potions. Hermione told me not to be silly and Draco told me I should just study harder. I need to go find me a new best friend and boyfriend that aren’t so against cheating. But well, that’s never going to happen because I love them both too much to let them go.

Hermione is reading all the extra books we need to read too. She finds the bond fascinating. It’s very rare and she wants to know all about it. I asked her if she could maybe write a summary of it all, so I don’t need to read it. But I’m sure you know by now that Hermione won’t do something like that, so I have no other choice but to read the material. The only problem is that they are old books, written by dull people, so I struggle to get through it. Draco sometimes tells me to skip chapters because they are useless.

I also need to tell you about our last lesson of Care of Magical Creatures before the holiday. Hagrid has shown us these funny little creatures named Nifflers. They have a flurry black fur and their paws look like spades. They are a big fan of things that sparkle. So they loved Daphne’s nails that she had painted with purple sparkling nail polish. And one almost bit Pansy when it went for her watch. We all had fun about that.

Hagrid had buried some gold coins in a patch of freshly turned earth and we had to go and find it all with the help of the Nifflers. Draco and I picked a cute Niffler that put its long snout in my ear and sniffed enthusiastically. I wanted to cuddle the Niffler all day and Draco just kept smiling at me. Said I was good with the beast. When Draco came close to kiss me on my other cheek the Niffler went for his rings. Draco pulled back and took them all off and hid them in his pocket.

Our Niffler didn’t find a lot of coins in the patch. I preferred to hang around us and get cuddles. And it kept looking at Draco’s pocket, as it knew that the golden rings were in there. We had a lot of fun during the class. Daphne asked if she could get one as a pet, but Hagrid warned us that they wreck houses and aren’t the best pets. Ron still was considering it, thinking out loud about all the gold he could find and how rich he would become. Draco told him that stealing wasn’t the best way to get rich.

In the end, it was Ron’s Niffler that had gotten the most coins and he won a large slab of Honeyduke’s chocolate. He shared the chocolate with Hermione after class. They were being all cosy and cute. No fighting or bickering at each other. And later Hermione told me that is when they got back together. It’s nice that they are a couple again. Now we just need to find a date for Neville (Luna thinks Dean would be perfect for him if he would just realise that I’m out of his reach for eternity) and Millicent and we’d all be paired up. Nobody joked about them getting together, even though they haven’t come out officially, we all know that they are both gay. Some other students do think they are a couple too, just because they are the only two single people in our group of friends.

Oh, and Hermione is on a roll. She’s looking into all the ways Rita Seeker could possibly be able to listen into private conversations. It’s taken her mind of the whole free the Elves business, so that’s nice. I suggested that maybe she had used Muggle bugs. But it turns out that electricity and radar and that kind of stuff goes haywire around Hogwarts. And then she complained that we should read Hogwarts, A History. Ron kissed her on the cheek and told her that there was no point because his girlfriend knows it by heart and he can always ask her. Hermione was blushing and pushed him away.

I think that’s all for now. It’s been a good couple of weeks and I’m doing much better than before. I write again soon.

Love you,

Harry James Potter.

#letters to my parents #drarry #harry in slytherin #easter #nifflers #AlindasStories

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pluckyredhead · 5 years

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Daredevil 101: What Happened to Milla, Part 1

For the past while in Daredevil 101, Matt has been somewhat rockily married to a woman named Milla Donovan. Sharp-eyed readers may have noticed that Matt is no longer married in comics continuity. What happened?

*sigh* “To the Devil, His Due” and “Without Fear” happened, aka Daredevil v2 95-105 by Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark. Aka an absolutely interminable parade of pointless cruelty riddled with dangling plot threads and misogyny. Yes, the team that gave us the masterful “Devil in Cell Block D” has now gone off the rails so hard that Amtrak is still working on the repairs. (Sadly, their run never improves, so strap in, I guess.)

Now, Milla is not exactly my favorite character, but very few things in DD history make me madder than the way she was written off. It’s so clear that Brubaker wanted to fridge her but realized he couldn’t get away with a fifth dead Daredevil love interest, so he figured out a different “fate worse than death” (hoo boy we’ll have to unpack that in Part 2). No price is too high for a woman to pay if it means Matt Murdock suffers, amirite?

And with that tempting introduction (?), let’s get into it!

Content Warnings: Ableism, sexual assault and implied threats of sexual violence.

We begin with Melvin, who is in jail thanks to having attacked Matt back when he was blackmailed into doing so. Specifically, we begin with Melvin in a room with a bunch of dead bodies he swears up and down he isn’t responsible for.

Matt and Foggy and most especially Becky Blake believe him and take his case, but just a few days later it happens again - Melvin is found surrounded by dead bodies and claiming to have no memory of what happened but that he didn’t do it. The psych eval doesn’t go well, in that, well, he passes:

According to the doctor, this isn’t Melvin being taken over by his Gladiator personality or an actual second person stepping in - this is just Melvin himself killing people. Which for Melvin’s legal team (and friends) is the worst possible option, of course.

Meanwhile, Milla appears to have taken up therapy:

Aside from what this story does to Milla and Melvin, part of what makes it so bad is the structure. This was partially due to a couple of company-wide crossovers that we’ll see marching through the book in a little bit, but also just lots of things being set up and then dropped without going anywhere. Here we see Milla in therapy, which is never returned to or discussed. The sinister way this is framed makes it clear that the person she’s speaking to is the villain of the piece, but the fact that he met Milla at therapy is never revealed or mentioned at all. Later in the scene he says something about how he hasn’t told his wife that he’s in therapy but he should stop underestimating her, which is clearly meant to get under Milla’s skin in regards to her relationship with Matt, but that kind of subtle manipulation is too interesting for this story and leads absolutely nowhere. And of course we don’t get to actually see Milla talking to her therapist, which would require her to have an interior life.

Which means we have an entire scene that could have been replaced with a single panel of Milla bumping into someone on the street that would have had exactly the same effect on the plot. And the pacing problems only get worse from here, folks!

Anyway. The state decides to move Melvin, but he escapes his prison transport - and attacks Matt, who’s been keeping an ear on things:

Melvin kicks the crap out of Matt and escapes, but Matt realizes that there’s something wrong with Melvin - it may not be the Gladiator taking over, but this isn’t his friend, either.

The next day, Nelson and Murdock receive a surprise guest: Lily Lucca, who you may remember as she of the Karen-smelling perfume who aided and abetted in multiple murders and lured Matt into a confrontation with Vanessa Fisk:

As you’ll recall, the perfume Vanessa gave Lily to entrap Matt with makes her smell like every man’s fondest memory [INSERT GIANT EYEROLL HERE], which is why Foggy’s falling all over himself here. But now she has a problem: even though she’s not using the perfume anymore, she still smells like it, which means men are constantly creepily following her around, getting into fights over her, etc.

This is...sigh. There’s an aspect of “female character is punished for using her sexuality” here that makes me super uncomfortable. Certainly 90% of comic book villains have some kind of monkey’s paw in their backstory (“I tried to make a cool suit of armor and now I have robot tentacles!” “I tried to cryogenically freeze my dying wife and now I am really cold all the time!” etc.), but there’s a way in which it’s weaponized against certain types of female characters that’s deeply gendered and often kinda rape-y. (I got this vibe with Debbie and Micah Synn as well.) Lily wanted to control men through their desire to her? Well, now they might desire her so much they’ll assault her! That’ll show her! I guess. Ugh, it just grosses me out.

Anyway, Matt reluctantly agrees to help her, or more specifically have Dakota help her, since she won’t be affected by Lily’s scent the way he and Foggy will. Even with this caveat, when he meets Milla for dinner she does not like this:

I think we’re meant to be reading Milla as not being entirely rational about Lily because she’s so jealous of Karen’s memory and Lily reminds Matt of Karen, but she’s not wrong. I have no idea if we’re meant to read Matt as being sort of a douche in this scene but if my husband was like “Keep your voice down” and “Don’t be so hyperbolic” I would walk out of that fucking restaurant.

Or run, as the case may be:

Matt distracts Melvin so that Milla can get away (lotta Ms in this storyline), then somehow quick-changes to Daredevil for a fight. Melvin knocks him out and Matt wakes up handcuffed in the back of a police car:

The cops are arguing because it’s the middle of Civil War, which didn’t touch the Daredevil book very much but Matt was firmly on the anti-registration Team Cap side, unsurprisingly. As an unregistered superhero, just being out in a mask made him a criminal. (They don’t do anything with the fact that his secret identity was basically an open book at this point, which would have been interesting.)

Anyway, The Mysterious Voice Speaking On A Frequency Only Matt Can Hear gleefully tells him that he left his wallet at the restaurant, which has his home address, which means Melvin knows where to find Milla. Of course, Melvin was one of Matt’s bodyguards when his identity was first exposed and definitely already knew where he lived, but whatever.

Milla is, of course, wandering around the apartment in nothing but a bra and panties when Melvin shows up, because Daredevil artists apparently love putting her in her underwear to terrorize her and this is the last chance they’ll have to do it.

Melvin takes Milla up to the roof to wait for Matt. I’m including this exchange, where Milla tries to talk him down by appealing to his better nature, because it’s basically her last moment as herself. Reminding others of their better angels has always been one of her strengths, and she deserves to have that highlighted before...everything else.

Matt shows up. Melvin throws Milla off the roof:

Matt miraculously saves her and returns to fight Melvin, but Melvin has pretty much given up at this point and it’s all over but the crying. He’s bundled off to maximum security, and that’s...well, that’s the end of Melvin. This storyline came out in 2007, and this sweet, interesting character who has been around since the Silver Age has been unusable ever since. So thanks for that, Brubaker.

Matt’s furious, and determined to figure out who did this to Melvin:

“What did your sensei say about fighting angry?” always makes me laugh. Also, why would you ever suggest Matt follow Stick’s advice, Foggy, honestly.

(Foggy is A+++++ in this storyline and it makes me mad that I can’t even enjoy it because he’s just frantically trying to salvage a steaming pile of shit the whole time. Also given the overall ableism in this story I’m a little :/ that he basically takes over being the functional adult like Matt’s incapable of it.)

Matt runs into another dropped plot thread here because he gets on the trail of a street drug that makes people angry, which, like, how would Melvin have even gotten that in prison anyway, especially nonconsensually? Also, every other depiction of this drug shows it putting the user into a senseless rage, but Melvin sure was able to find his old lair, put on his Daredevil costume, track down Matt, and kidnap his wife when the plot required him to. How very Guardian Devil.

Anyway, Matt starts tracking the drug to its source. Meanwhile, Milla shows up at N&M:

Yeah, from here on out Milla is all tears and hysteria. Sigh.

Foggy decides to take her home, and Lily tags along, even though Foggy thinks that’s a REALLY REALLY bad idea because a) she's upsetting Milla, b) she fucks with Foggy’s head, and c) every dude in the subway is going to be all over her. But Lily insists, because she’s...manipulative? Genuinely feeling guilty and choosing the absolute worst way to fix that? Flimsy plot reasons? Let’s go with flimsy plot reasons.

While waiting for the train, Milla pretty much loses her shit at Lily, and also the world in general:

“I don’t know what I’ve done to you” is pretty rich, Lily. YOU LURED HER HUSBAND ON A MURDER CHASE ACROSS EUROPE.

Meanwhile, Dakota is still trying to figure out where Vanessa got Lily’s original perfume from - and Matt has followed the drug trail back to the Enforcers, a bunch of goofy-ass Silver Age villains we haven’t seen in decades. (They are specifically named the Ox, Fancy Dan, and Montana. They are ridiculous.) They clobber him and take him to their leader:

LARRY CRANSTON. MISTER FEAR. He made the perfume. He drove Melvin insane. And he’s the reason behind what happens next:

Lily lives. The random bystander does not. And when Matt, having been literally thrown out of the window and into the garbage by Mister Fear, returns home, Foggy is waiting for him:

Next Time: Milla is taken into custody, and Matt searches for a cure.

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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luverofsupernatural · 4 years

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These Hands of Mine (10): Planning for the Future

This is the tenth (ah! double digits baby!) installation of the These Hands of Mine series ( Master List, Previous: 9-Morning After, Next: 11-It’s not as bad as you think)

Lead Up/Summary: Even if his brothers are having a spat, Jackie needs to focus on himself for right now. Or rather, his current self to have a better future self. Hopefully Chase or Henrik will be by soon though. Not exactly fun idling in a hospital bed all alone. Can't even twiddle his thumbs to pass the time.

Author tagging Note: I tagged some newer people in this one because I thought they might enjoy it. If you don’t want to though please tell me. I won’t be offended. And on the flip side, if you DO want to be tagged, Please tell me.

_________________________________

Chase was partially right, about the staff being better than Henrik. Mostly, it was the sheer fact that his doctor didn’t judge him for his injuries. Kept a positive attitude through all of it too. She’d told him what she did to fix him during his surgery, what her plan was moving forward, and what he would have to face over the next coming weeks. Even though he was “better” now than when he came in, it sounded like a long time before he could be back to normal. Whatever his new normal would be that was. Jackie sighed as he sunk into that realization. He’d finally said aloud he couldn’t be a superhero, but never let himself fully think about the aftermath of that.

“An important part of the recovery process is having a support system. Do you have someone around that could assist you while you heal?”

Genuine concern. It was strange to hear it, especially when he was the one usually concerned about everyone else. Unease slithered through his spine, but that was good. This was an emotion he dealt with daily, one that he’d condition himself to respond to in a better way. Flash a cocky smile, and just a dash of humour. “Like I’d let a few broken bones keep me down.” Didn’t seem to land though. Clearing his throat, he continued in a more appropriate way, “but, yeah, one of my brothers will be around to help me for sure.” Maybe Henrik would stop by soon. Jackie wasn’t sure if the loathing Chase felt towards the doctor was reciprocated, but at the very least, when Chase wasn’t around, Henrik had an opening.

“Good.” Just another thing to check off on her list. What was the next agenda item then? “I’m going to keep you here for a few days so that we can monitor for infection. And I’d like to get you started with some physical therapy soon. For now though, just try to relax. Watch some television, sleep, de-stress – Don’t over exert yourself. We’re working on healing for the long term, and overworking yourself right now can cause more harm than good. Now, do you have any questions for me?”

Questions? Maybe, was he actually going to be okay? Would he be able to ever use his hands again? What was he supposed to be asking even? Normally, Henrik just did whatever medical patching was necessary, and Maybe a quick explanation before he’d start“fixing” Jackie. Jackie’d never been curious enough to learn about what Henrik did. As long as he was near good as new a couple days later, it didn’t matter. Now he actually needed to know though. But she’d already told him her plan and long term goals. No doubt those details would change along the way, but he had a clear path for the next few days. And what he questioned — what he was concerned about, were long term things. Long term promises were so hard to make, and he didn’t want to put her in that position. “I got nothing doc.”

“Alright then. I’ll check in on you tomorrow, Jackie.” When she left, he half expected someone else to pop-in, whether it was a nurse or a brother, but no one showed up. A white noise kind of silence made its presence known — made it easy to put a pause on life.

Jackie’s mind was quiet, thoughts small, but he wasn’t tired. Since he could now think coherently, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to actually think about his future. Plan his recovery out, plan how to let his last brother find out, plan what to do if he couldn’t– maybe wouldn’t be a superhero anymore. Despite the necessity of all of that, the order to not stress, not over-exert himself danced around his brain. She was the expert on medical matters, Jackie had to admit that to himself.

So the task — or rather question — became: how much did thinking hurt, and how much would this specific subject matter add to that anguish? Breathing in a bit too deeply and being stuck by his rib, he decided to turn to a different subject matter. Something not so depressing hopefully. Depression... Chase. Had he actually been diagnosed? He’d seen a psychiatrist in the hospital, right? But after that? Was it just his three brothers checking in, wasn’t it? But they’d never made any schedule of it. They weren’t universally tracking Chase’s progress, and as far as Jackie knew, they never really talked to each other about how to handle this aside from those first few days. It was just a general agreement to monitor Chase, but Jackie had been severely slacking in those duties. Stupidly, of course. So wrapped up in his civic duty that he hadn’t been doing his brotherly duty.

He couldn’t change that now. The future was still in flux though. Maybe with all this new idle time he’d been forced into, he could take the opportunity to help Chase. If nothing else, they would have the chance to talk longer than just exchanging small pleasantries. Even better, it was a win-win situation! Help Chase with his problems and spend more time with his family! After all, he’d fought off death just to make sure he got back to all of them; he’d be damned if he was going to waste this time again.

Right, focus. Focus on Chase, form a plan, and implement it when he came back– if, he came back. Unfortunately, Chase had trouble controlling his anger (well, every emotion really), and that’s what got him into trouble. But, everyone knew that now. Even though Chase shouldn’t have been so rude and presumptuous, neither should have Jackie. Jackie never did like fighting with words in the first place anyway. But through all the fighting, they each had points; it was just... a poorly handled situation. Hopefully Jackie didn’t fatally jab at Chase’s heart – it was far too easy for his brother to catastrophize every conversation. Real smooth there, Jackieboy man.

Come on, focus. Plan. Spend time with Chase. Talk with Chase. Maybe don't confront him directly, but let him know he can talk to you. Safe environment. And right now, it’s not about you. So, just leave your trauma alone for now. His too. You can bring it up once he starts opening up. No Henrik either. Try and steer clear from anger, for the both of you. Fun. Keep things light and inviting. Maybe get him curious about things so he’s not stuck in a rut. Make it nice and fun. Fun. . . What topics were fun. . . or nice. . . This bed was pretty. . . nice. . .

Opening his eyes, the world had turned sideways, and Jackie was looking directly at Chase. Body heavy, like always, and mind still not tired. What was he thinking about again?

“Hey sleepy head!” Such a boisterous greeting. At least Chase was in good spirits now.

“Hey,” Jackie yawned, his voice still waking up.

“You were smilin’,” Chase commented, excitement pouring out of him into the surrounding air.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause as Jackie could hear wheels turning. “Reminded me of when you were little. Always had a smile on your face, no matter whatcha were doin’.” That brought him back. When he would just be goofing around with his friends, or messing about with Chase, or just going on his grand ol’ adventures. Now he could feel that smile creeping up on his face. “And hey,” the words interrupted the distant memories from fully surfacing, “I wanted to uh, um, apologize, for my behavior earlier.” Chase’s pace slowed down as he stumbled through his apology. “Iiiii,” stretched out as Chase’s eyes searched the room for the words, finally landing back on Jackie, “should have been focusing on you, and Iiiii...” he paused for a breath in and took an exceptionally long time to exhale. “I made it about my feelings instead. So, this is me. . . trying to be just here, for you. Whatever you need.” Mouth still open, it looked like he would continue. But, his eyes turned downwards, and his chest deflated, as he just looked down towards the floor beneath them.

Jackie wasn’t sure how long Chase would be able to keep things focused on only Jackie, or if he even wanted that. Nor if Chase really understood what Jackie was mad about. Not even mad — upset. And there was this pit feeling that even for that, there were deep things all tangled up with it. But, Chase was at the very least sincere, that much was obvious. Trying, which is all Jackie could ask from him at this point. “Thanks.”

An invisible force shattered, and Chase seemed to relax more, but not as dramatically as the feeling of it all. There was a place for Chase to respond, but that opportunity seemed to disappear as well, leaving Chase frozen in place for a moment. Placing his hands on the side of the bed, Chase rocked back and forth a couple times. “So, uh, I guess, what do you need, or, er, want. to do. Or, talk about.”

Jackie was never good at being idle, made him want to squirm if he sat too long, which is part of what made this last week hell. Talking – hell, socializing would keep him occupied. But looking at Chase, his mind was blank. What would they talk about? Him? No. He didn’t want that, and they’d probably get into another disagreement, or he’d break down. He’d have to talk with himself about all this – Actually talk, like out loud – before talking to someone else. So what did that leave. His brothers? Chase? Didn’t seem like a good choice since he had just apologized about making this about him, even though knowing his brother’s mental well being would have put Jackie’s mind at ease. Or, if he was struggling, give him something to focus on !– that was it! THat’s what he wanted to do. Have fun with each other. “Do something fun, I guess?”

“Well, we can always watch something.” God, they hadn’t done that in foreeever.

“Yeah, sure. How about an anime?” Jackie didn’t know what it was, the characters, the plot, the emotions, or the animation style, but they always made him happy. And when he used to watch them with Chase, Chase always seemed to be happy too.

“You find a new one?”

Well, he hadn’t had any time recently. But then again, there was a library full of anime Chase hadn’t yet seen. “Something new to you,” Jackie answered slyly. That gave him an idea for which show to pick. “It’s called ‘Seven Deadly Sins.’ It’s on Netflix.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh, . . .” What was a good explanation? “Uh, adventure party, uh, of knights, uh,” Closing his eyes and leaning his head back, Jackie tried to remember and think of what to say. “To uh, fight a great evil... Huuhhhh,” Jackie whined, unable to accomplish more than a vague description. “You know, just, like. Urgh, you’ll like it, don’t worry. Just give it a couple episodes to get started, ya know?”

Chase laughed a little through his smile, “Alright man,” turning away towards his chair. “Let’s see if I can remember the password then.” Oh, right. They typically watched on their TV. But that wasn’t here. Wait– Chase wasn’t that concerned. But he couldn’t have brought the TV all the way here, or known Jackie would want to watch something.

Plastic clashing against a hard surface broke his train of thought, directing him to the disturbance. Laptop. Of course! Man, his brain was slow to catch up with reality right now. Even with that mental handicap, it was easy enough to keep up with something he’s already seen. “Aahhhh oooookkkayyyy... aaaannnnddddd there!” Chase rolled a floating table around so that the supported laptop was now hovering over Jackie’s lap. Why was a table even like that? A long pole supporting the entire wood platform on one edge? Surely not just for holding laptops. “It alright if I ask questions during?”

No way to stop him. It was just one of Chase’s quirks — couldn’t keep his mouth shut during a show. “Just make sure subtitles are on so you can follow the plot.” Though, of course, that wouldn’t stop Chase from making predictions. But hopefully, he would read more than talk. Jackie physically shook the thought from his head. Nope, no, this was fun time. Fun time with Chase. Just be glad he’s hanging out with you. And try to relax. Just brotherly bonding time.

_________________________

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