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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

Text

forever, i choose you

desc: he’s always been everyone’s second choice, in every aspect of his life. george weasley just wants to be someone’s first.

word count: 3.9k

pairing: george weasley x muggle!reader

warning(s): idk you might cry, i sure did but what else is new. loneliness/discussion of sexual content/idk

A/N: i still have no motivation to write and/or read. and it’s the absolute worst. but i wrote the bulk of this story back in december/the beginning of january, and i figured maybe i’d try and write the ending and publish it and see if it’ll spark any inspiration in me. i’m real, real, real sorry if i haven’t gotten to your fics to read (i’ve got them all saved!) i just don’t know what’s wrong with me atm and it’s THE WORST. also it might evoke more emotion if you listen to this while reading this lil fic. thank you, to all of you, for your support and patience, always.

disclaimer: i do not give consent for my work to be posted on ANY other platform.

Seven-year-old George Weasley watched with wide eyes and a goofy grin as his father twirled his mother in the family space of their normally bustling and loud home. But tonight, the Burrow was quiet. Everyone was already sound asleep, his five brothers and his younger sister. George should be too, but he just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sheets and kept groaning, and it wasn’t long before his twin brother Fred threw a few pillows at his face, and eventually, George decided to get up and go for a stroll.

He hid strategically on the staircase so his parents wouldn’t see that he was still wide awake at nearly midnight, and he watched as they swayed lightly to the music emitting from somewhere in the house. It was light as a feather, the music, a small piano tune that echoed through the lower level, its sounds traveling effortlessly up the stairs of the home. Mr. Weasley dipped his wife and Mrs. Weasley giggled like some of the young girls George had seen in the village, kind of a nervous giggle, and he watched her blush. He saw his mother placed her head gently on Mr. Weasley’s chest and they both closed their eyes, and George wondered if they were happy to have a moment of peace without their seven children running around causing mayhem.

He wondered if they danced like this every evening, after everyone had already gone to bed.

George noticed a weird sort of feeling in his chest; he wondered why his heart was hurting. Was it because there was something wrong? But then he realized that wasn’t the case, for the aching in his heart came from his pure desire to find exactly what his mum and dad had -- a love like none other, with seven children, a home with multiple stories, and more treacle tarts than one needs.

He vowed in that moment, as he watched his parents from the staircase and tapped his foot quietly in rhythm with the music, that he’d find love like that one day.

He wanted someone to choose him first, just like his parents chose one another.

He brought his hand to his chest, as if to calm his rapidly beating heart, for the sheer idea of finding a love like theirs filled him with such excitement that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Seven-year-old George Weasley laid in bed, ignoring the soft snores from his twin across the room, his eyes wide with wonder as he dreamt of the woman he’d dance with one day.

Twelve-year-old George Weasley wasn’t ready to date. He was only twelve years old! He much preferred to dream.

He knew when he looked at the girl across from him that she wasn’t the one, lovely as she was. He adjusted his Gryffindor tie and cleared his throat and focused on the Potions assignment in front of him. It wasn’t exactly a date, was it? He was in a Potions lesson with his classmates, and Snape. But when the cute blackhaired Hufflepuff approached him and asked if he’d like to work together on the next of Snape’s ridiculous concoctions, Fred poked his brother in the ribs and winked, as if to say, If you don’t partner up with her, you’re a right prat.

And so George did what he thought was gentlemanly and he said yes. He could tell by the rose pink colour that flooded her cheeks that she was smitten with him, and that she’d asked him to be her partner because she was smitten. And he had to admit, she really was quite cute and very, very kind.. and rather smart for her age as well. And he knew that she’d make some man very, very happy someday. It just wouldn’t be him.

He did what was asked of him. He measured out the correct amount of powdered Griffin claw. He made sure he and his partner had enough salamander blood for their strengthening solution. And he smiled back at his partner, though his heart and his mind were still with the girl he’d dance with one day.

The Hufflepuff tried her hardest to capture his heart, but it belonged to someone he had yet to meet.

She wasn’t the one that felt like home.

-- -

Sixteen-year-old George Weasley didn’t understand why all of his classmates wanted to snog people and move onto someone else without so much as a blink.

So many people were pairing off and lasting less than a week before moving onto someone new. George rattled his brain for answers, he searched the eyes of his classmates for explanations, but he couldn’t understand why people would want to hop from one person to another. Didn’t they want to find love, a love that’s long lasting and pushes boundaries and moves mountains and weathers the storms it meets?

But perhaps, he worried, maybe that’s where he was going wrong.

Maybe, in order to find what he truly yearned for, he needed to be reckless and love without really loving.

Maybe he needed to search less, in order to find her.

And so he decided, with much persuasion from Fred, that he’d ask that pretty brunette Ravenclaw to the Yule Ball, and he’d dance and drink firewhisky and maybe he’d even kiss her, if the courage he tried to summon stayed with him throughout the night.

And maybe if he did all those things, he’d forget about the one his heart desperately craved.

And for a little while, he really did forget. Perhaps he could get on board with this “love the one you’re with” mentality. Maybe he could just be in the moment without worrying about everyone else. Maybe he could kiss girls without feeling anything, maybe he could date casually, maybe he could be like everyone else his age and not think about weddings and marriage and having children.

“Georgieee,” the Ravenclaw slurred on the dance floor. She tugged on his tie and pulled him close. He could smell the firewhisky on her breath and his heart began to pound when she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Dance with meeee.”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more than this. He’d always wanted more than this.

George begrudgingly agreed and caught Fred’s eye from across the dance floor. The elder twin threaded his brows together and pushed the air with his hands, as if encouraging his younger brother to go for it. The Ravenclaw dazedly draped her arms across George’s shoulders and he sheepishly looked down toward his feet, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“George Weasleeeeyyyy,” she slurred again, hiccoughing in between giggles, “I said dance with meeeeeee.”

He tried to fight it, tried not to think of what he always did, but he couldn’t help it.

This girl was not the one. He could tell, because there was no love in the way she said his name. There was no true feeling in the surplus of kisses she kept pressing to his jawline, and there was no warmth radiating from her -- not the kind that mattered, anyway.

He knew, as he placed his hands gently on her waist and swayed with her to the music, that this was not what love felt like. This is not what home felt like.

He danced anyway, even though it was not the kind of dancing he’d seen his parents do all those years ago, and he allowed himself to think about what the rest of his classmates weren’t -- the person he’d hold in his arms, who’d be the mother to his children, who’s kisses would send him spiraling, who’s embraces would become all too familiar in a way that would comfort him in the darkest of times.

He allowed himself again, to dream of true love.

-- -

Seventeen-year-old George Weasley was sick and tired of waiting for the one.

It sounded kind of dramatic in his own head, seeing as he was only seventeen, but he’d known now for ten years exactly what he was looking for, and ten years seemed like a lifetime.

It didn’t help that nearly all of his friends had gotten over their casual dating scene and were now all enthralled with their significant others. He felt so painfully lonely, though he’d never admit it to a soul. He could hardly admit it to himself.

One evening, he shot up from the couch and out of the common room in a fit of fury, for if he had to see Fred and Angelina snogging in the corner for one more minute, he was quite certain he was going to explode from disgust. He was happy for his brother, of course he was, but he didn’t need to see it. Not as often as that.

He found Ron sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny, Harry, and Hermione and plopped beside them all before engaging in exciting rounds of exploding snap. But as the night grew darker and he grew more tired, George noticed the undeniable chemistry between his sister and Harry and his brother and Hermione. Though they all hadn’t admitted to one another how they felt, George had found it obvious, and he politely excused himself before he tugged his jacket rather angrily around his shoulders before he walked out into the winter storm, just to feel the cold air numb his skin.

He walked out of the castle, over toward the owlery, through the treacherous amounts of snow. Anything to distract George from everyone who’d apparently been hit by Cupid’s bloody arrow.

Ever since he was born, it had always been Fred and George. What about George and Fred? Was it because Fred was older? And why were people always lumping them together? Just because they’re twins? George loathed that. They were individuals too. He was always second, in everything.

In getting hand-me-downs from his older brothers. In being referred to with his twin. In lessons when the professors would call out their names for attendance, because F came before G in the alphabet. And even when it came to love; all the girls always seemed to flock to Fred instead, because he was more exciting. More boisterous. Less shy.

The cold, winter air bit violently at his exposed skin, and he reckoned it hurt less than watching everyone around him find someone that chose them, all while he was still waiting for the right person to choose him.

George Weasley didn’t want to be someone’s second choice.

He wanted to be someone’s first.

-- -

Twenty-year-old George Weasley didn’t know how exactly he ended up here.

He didn’t know how he ended up in a relationship three years deep, without having said “I love you” once and actually meaning it.

George thought he might’ve found her, his person, during his seventh year. She was beautiful and kind and everything he thought he’d hoped and dreamt of. Her soft touch, her yearning eyes, the way she curled up next to him in the dormitories late at night and held onto him as she slept -- it was everything, and it seemed to be perfect.

He thought that maybe, perhaps, she was it. But even so, he found himself waiting, still, for that feeling… the one on the staircase he’d felt so long ago.

But the pain of realizing that she wasn’t who he’d been searching for was more heartbreaking than the pain of him asking her to leave.

He’d been looking at her through rose coloured lenses and had been ignoring the truth that was right in front of him.

He should’ve left years ago, when that Gryffindor girl began to make backhanded jokes about the shop, and his dreams of becoming a business entrepreneur, claiming that she was only joking around.

He should’ve left when that girl showed up late to the grand opening of their shop, nearly a year into their relationship.

He should’ve left when he held her in his arms, and still didn’t feel comfortable beside her.

His heart ached for it, what he’d felt on the staircase at the mere age of seven. And perhaps he’d become so desperate for it, that he took something disguised as true love.

But the truth was that he knew, deep in his soul, that this Gryffindor girl wasn’t the one. He’d just chosen, outright, to ignore it. Perhaps if he could forget that idea that “the one” would smack him square in the face with an overwhelming sensation of knowing, he could have learned to love her, even when he hadn’t had that smack in the face moment when he’d met her all those years ago.

But it hadn’t happened, had it? He hadn’t grown to love her. Not truly, anyway. And she hadn’t grown to love him. Not in the way he wanted to be loved, at least.

Because it was more than just heated kisses and lazy days in bed and all things physical that he wanted.

It was about love. Pure, blinding, unadulterated love.

He stood frozen solid in the middle of his tiny flat and watched as that Gryffindor girl grabbed her coat off of the hanger and raised her hand slightly before slipping silently into the dimly lit hallway for the very last time. And George poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat near the window, looking up at the stars, expecting to feel sad at her departure, but in fact, he didn’t feel sad at all.

He felt hopeful.

He hadn’t found the one yet, but he knew she was out there, getting to him as fast as she possibly could.

Though his brothers had urged him to come to the pub and meet someone else, George didn’t fancy the idea of doing that. He was over that entire scene, just as he was in school when everyone was pairing off and moving on immediately. He didn’t want something fleeting, and he didn’t want something meaningless.

He wanted something true.

-- -

Twenty-three-year old George Weasley was certain that he was never going to find that feeling ever again, for as long as he lived.

While all of his friends were out at the pubs, meeting people and fooling around as if feelings weren’t involved, George was walking aimlessly through the streets to work. He was constantly dealing with the haze above his head, waiting for it to lift. He was turning down girls left and right and ignoring his brothers’ insistence on dating casually again.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time on people who weren’t going to reach out and trace circles onto his chest in the middle of the night, or who weren’t going to dance around the kitchen in his clothes while cooking dinner, or who weren’t going to look at him with eyes so tender, it would render him useless for days to come.

He’d been waiting sixteen years to find his person, the one who would choose him everyday over everyone else, and in hindsight it didn’t quite seem like a long time. But as he cried silently to himself every few nights in bed, feeling the empty space next to him and yearning for the one who was meant to be there, sixteen years felt like a lifetime.

He thought for a long while, that maybe she was in another country, or maybe she was an auror or something, fighting her way through the monsters of the wizarding world.

He’d thought for a bit that perhaps he just hadn’t met her yet.

But as the days dragged on and he found himself lost in crowds, searching face after face, looking for hers, he truly felt as though all hope was lost.

And so George paced back and forth in the kitchen of his flat, biting at his nails and pouring himself hefty glasses of wine, keen on ignoring everyone’s attempts at getting him to come out.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe because he wasn’t out there, sleeping with people whose names he wouldn’t remember come morning like everyone else, he was just going to be alone.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for him. Maybe not everyone finds true love. Maybe his parents had just gotten lucky.

The dull ache in George’s heart grew stronger, and for the upteenth night in a row, he laid in bed and gripped the covers and cried himself to sleep, his tears sliding down his cheeks the same way the evening rain slid down the window terrace.

-- -

Twenty-four-year old George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he felt it.

That feeling. The one from the staircase as he watched his parents dance, all those years ago.

Heart pounding, chest rising, hands freezing.

It hit him square in the chest without warning, nearly knocking him over though his feet were rooted into the ground at the spot, smack dab in the middle of that cafe in the middle of London.

Someone was playing a slow, soft piano tune coming from the other end. People were filtering in and out, asking the man in front of them what exactly he was staring at and why he wasn’t moving. But George Weasley stood where he was, not taking his eyes off of you.

You were reading furiously, flipping through pages of a book gripped tightly in your hands, as though you couldn’t devour the plot fast enough. George watched with admiration as a gentle smile tugged at your lips, as your eyes scanned the words quickly, as you tapped your foot on the ground, in rhythm with that slow piano.

He watched with dazed eyes and parted lips as you finished the end of your book. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue and clutched the book tightly to your chest, overwhelmed, clearly, by the end of the plot. George’s heart soared so high at your passion that he found himself struggling to hold back the I love you that was pressing behind his lips.

You immediately took a long sip of your tea and placed your finished book back into your bag, only to pull out another and immediately immerse yourself in the next story. George laughed to himself, stunned that you were so intent on falling into someone else’s storyline, if only for a little while, that you hadn’t dared take a break from one book to the next. You merely jumped right in.

He wondered if his overwhelming feelings called out to you like a signal of sorts, because just as he was working up the courage to walk over to you, you looked up. You searched the room for a moment before meeting his gaze and suddenly, the world around you both stopped.

George found himself wanting to know everything about you. He itched to devour up any and all information you’d be so kind to provide to him -- your name, your favorite color, your birthday. He wanted to know what book you’d just been reading, and what about it had moved you so much to the point of tears. He wanted to know everything, but deep in his soul, he also knew that he’d have years to learn it all.

In fact, he’d have the rest of forever.

Your eyes went soft and George began to feel the steady pounding of his heart increase, and to his amazement, he noticed a gentle smile tug at the edges of your lips.

And he smiled back.

He’d been right all along. That feeling of finding the one would smack him square in the face. He wondered, as he peered at you now, biting down on your bottom lip and looking toward the ground, why he’d ever doubted himself in the first place. And he wondered when you looked back up at him once again and raised a hand to say hello, if you’d been smacked in the face with that feeling too, just like he had.

He resisted the urge to pour his heart out to you, right here and right now. He’d have time.

Perhaps today was just about having today, and recognizing that you were everything he’d been looking for since that evening on the staircase.

He’d tell you this one day.

-- -

“And what does… Lumox mean again?”

George laughed and squeezed your hands. “You mean, Lumos?”

You bit your lip in embarrassment and laughed, too. “Yes! Lumos. That’s the one that produces light, right?”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. You two were seated inside a bustling restaurant in Diagon Alley, and he wondered if people passing by realized just how cozy you two looked together. “You’re more brilliant than most witches I know.”

You cocked your head to the side with an air of confidence and batted your eyelashes at him. “What can I say, Georgie? I may have been born a… Mugglie… but maybe I was meant to be a witch.”

George had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t get over how painfully adorable you were as you attempted to pronounce these wizarding words and learn spells and charms and things as he taught you all things about the wizarding world. You took his wand and pointed it at your wine glass, pretending to transfigure it. You couldn’t, of course, since you weren’t a magical being. But George didn’t mind. He could watch you pretend all day long.

In all his years of studying magic, he’d never felt anything quite like this.

BONUS, just because i hate feeling sad asf:

Thirty-two-year old George Weasley rocked his redheaded daughter back and forth in his arms, until he was certain that she was sound asleep again -- her mouth open wide as she began to snore softly when he placed her back into her crib.

He peered up at the clock on the wall and blinked a few times before 4:32 a.m. came into focus. Exhausted, he made his way back into his room before sliding into bed.

And there it was again. That feeling.

You turned over in bed to face him, squinting in the darkness as your eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before you. Groggily, you reached out and traced your fingers across his jawline. His heart nearly stopped. “Is she alright?” you asked sleepily.

George grinned softly and leant forward before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He whispered, “She’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Though your eyes were already shut, you reached out again and took his hand in yours before bringing your lips gently to his fingers. “Okay.. I love you.. G’night..”

But you were asleep again before George could respond, so instead he pulled you closely to him and began to gently trace circles on your bare shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, and listened intently for the beating of your heart that had fallen into sync with his.

Tears pushed at the edges of his eyes, but he slowed his breathing and reminded himself, again, that there was no longer an empty space beside him in bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given up hope, but perhaps giving up hope was what made finding you so much sweeter.

If only he could tell seven-year-old George what he’d find when the time was right.

And in the darkness, as the rain pattered on the rooftop of his house and he felt your embrace tighten around his body, he whispered into the silence, “I love you, too.”

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spiltscribbles · 3 years ago

Note

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

FROM THIS LIST | Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face.

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk.

It’s a decade and a half later— as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least, to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly, searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand.

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice.

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors.

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even.

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital.

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin.

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?”

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped.

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #ILU Victoria!!!#also to anyone side eyeing the buy me a coffee plz do not judge me #i am so searing embarrassed about it #rip #just it's there i guess #calls;jalksdgjaeowifjsadlkgh #look away from me #!!!#lmfao #spilt ink

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sassycassie-s-writing · 3 years ago

Text

Want You Back

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-11/T- (little violence, little blood)

Original Idea: Exes-to-Lovers is kinda an underrated trope, when it’s done right.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is... 2,833 words. I wish I could say I’m sorry for it being long but I’m not. Have fun! @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“Oh shoot—hide me!” I hissed, ducking behind Daisy. She looked at me in confusion before glancing around the party.

She rolled her eyes. “Girl, you haven’t dated Jason in like a year. Can’t you at least try to be civil?”

“Oh trust me, I’d love nothing more than to be civil. Honestly, I’d love nothing more than to get back together with him. I thought we made each other happy. But he kept so many secrets and I can’t be in a relationship with someone who can’t be honest with me. We broke up so… explosively that I’m not sure we can speak nicely to each other,” I replied. “Just… block his view of me while I sneak into Jessie’s room, okay?”

Daisy heaved a heavy sigh. “Fine. But hiding from him won’t do you any good.”

“It’ll do us both a world of good if it means I don’t have to talk to him.”

Daisy did as I asked and blocked Jason’s view of me until we got to the stairs. I bolted up them two at a time and ducked into Jessie’s room. The door had been closed but unlocked. Once I shut myself inside, I leaned against it and sighed.

The bookcase in Jessie’s room was more meant for displaying knick-knacks than holding books, so a quick glance at her collection revealed nothing worth reading. I sat on the floor next to her bed, on her fuzzy pink rug, and stared at the screensaver on her computer monitor—a bunch of bubbles floating around and bumping into each other, changing colors.

Why was Jason here? Jessie knew he and I fell out over a year ago. Did she invite him? Did her brother? That seemed more likely. Jessie probably didn’t even realize he was here.

No need to get angry at her.

I pulled out my phone. I had a few books on it. Kept them just for this reason. Hide from a party and make people think I was just on my phone. I didn’t trust reading fanfiction in public, so I only kept traditionally-published work in my phone’s files.

I’m not sure how long I read. A half-hour, probably.

I was startled by the door opening and closing. “Whew. Dodged a bullet there,” a familiar voice said with a sigh of relief.

I looked up in alarm.

Jason was leaning against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard.

I held still. Maybe if he didn’t hear me, he’d slip back out to the party after a moment and leave me alone—and we wouldn’t have to exchange words. I watched my phone screen dim, then shut off completely, while Jason just stood there.

He opened his eyes. His gaze landed on me. “O—oh,” he said. “I… I didn’t know you were in here.”

I nodded, slowly and once. “I figured,” I said flatly. Awkward. “Did… Jessie’s brother invite you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But… one of his ex-girlfriends from high school wouldn’t stop flirting with me. So I pretty much ran away. I thought this was a bathroom.” He gestured to the room around us. “Clearly, I was wrong.” He glanced at the door over his shoulder. “I would leave, but I don’t want that girl to come after me again. Think we can get along long enough to share?”

I pushed myself to my feet, tucking my phone in my pocket. “No need. Since I came in here to avoid you, I’ll just go back to the party—and you can stay here for the rest of the night, for all I care. I will say, though, the bathroom is the next door down.”

I moved to brush him out of the way to leave Jessie’s room, but he caught my wrist. “Babydoll, wait,” he said, voice soft.

I pulled out of his grip. “Don’t call me that. I’m not yours anymore.”

“I miss you.” His big blue eyes were giving me puppy eyes.

“I miss you too. But you know perfectly well why I broke things off. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about why he disappears all the time—and clearly can’t keep his story straight. I thought we were happy together, Jason. But when you vanish for hours at a time with no word and come back with lame excuses, how was I supposed to trust you? I doubt you were cheating on me but how would I know? And what else was I supposed to think?” I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push him away from the door—the man was 6’ and 225 pounds of muscle—but when I shoved he gave way.

I yanked open the door and shut it hard behind me. I stomped downstairs and back to the party.

“You see Jason?” Daisy asked. “He went upstairs a couple minutes ago.”

“We spoke,” I said shortly.

Daisy cringed. “Went that well, huh?”

“Part of me still loves him, but I’m definitely still ticked at him.”

She made a face. “Sorry,” she offered.

“It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Anyway. Have you even seen Jessie or her brother?”

Daisy looked around. “I said hi to her when we first got here… but no, I haven’t seen her since,” she said. I followed her gaze. A sea of people in a small suburban house outside Gotham was pretty crowded for a party, and it was hard to see if Jessie and her brother Robert were even here anymore.

“Me neither,” I muttered.

“Wonder where they went,” Daisy mused.

“I mean, with the amount of people here, I’m not surprised I can’t see them.”

“Yeah…”

Somewhere nearby, I heard glass shattering. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good,” Daisy remarked. “If Jessie’s parents find out someone broke something—”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence as a window crashed in right next to us. I shrieked and grabbed Daisy, dragging her away from the flying shards. Several of them splattered over my jacket and cascaded to the floor, but I was lucky not to get impaled by any of them. A dark figure in body armor landed on the carpet, holding a large assault rifle.

I put Daisy behind me and backed up a few steps as the music stopped. She was taller than me, but hunched over she could almost disappear behind me. At least, whoever the intruder was wouldn’t have a clear shot at her past me.

“I’m looking for Jessica and Robert Williams,” the intruder said, levelling his gun at the crowd. Someone screamed from near the stairs.

While the intruder’s attention was elsewhere, I snuck my phone out of my pocket and found Jason’s number. I sent a text as fast as I could. Get out of here. Shooter just broke in.

That was all I had the time for before slipping my phone back into my pocket like I never had it out. The intruder prowled around the crowd. “Jessica… Robert…” he singsonged. I held Daisy’s wrist behind me. “If you two don’t show yourselves in the next sixty seconds, I’m tearing up your friends.”

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced at the text on my watch. Jason Todd: I’m not leaving you.

I slid my phone out. You have to. At least call the cops.

The window on the other side of the living room shattered inward. Another dark figure swooped through and landed on the floor. My first thought was Batman—but as the figure straightened from his landing, I saw a red helmet glinting off the disco lights.

“Red Hood,” I breathed, in awe. I’d seen him a couple times. Imposing, tall, muscular. I’d only ever seen him from a distance. Seeing him up close was almost more terrifying.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you,” Red Hood said to the intruder, voice being run through some sort of ring modulator to disguise it, “that it’s rude to gate crash a party?”

The intruder growled, “Red Hood,” like an animal. My blood ran a little colder.

Red Hood stepped forward, completely unfazed. “Get out now, and this doesn’t have to get any uglier than it already is.”

“What do you care, crime boss, that I get up to a little trouble?”

“I care because everyone knows my rules. No innocents get harmed. Look around you. This place is full of innocent people.” Red Hood gestured to the party crowd. For a moment I could have sworn the eyes of his helmet lingered on me. But he was probably looking at the window. “Get out before I haul you out in a body bag.” He whipped one of his massive handguns into his hand, cocking it with the other in one practiced, fluid motion.

The intruder levelled the assault rifle at Red Hood’s chest. “Make me,” he spat.

Red Hood shrugged. “Okay.”

Bang! His handgun went off. I jumped. The intruder dropped to the floor, his rifle spraying bullets briefly toward the ceiling before stopping when he hit the carpet in a splatter of blood.

Red Hood looked around. “Everyone okay?”

A few scattered nods.

“Good. Get out on the front lawn. Wait for the cops to show up. They should be here any second,” he ordered.

The crowd rushed out the front door, bottlenecking and slowing down. Daisy included. I stayed where I was, staring at Red Hood. He noticed me not moving and came over.

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

I looked down, peeling my hand away from my right side to reveal the blood soaking my shirt. “His spray. It got me,” I said, voice hoarse. My head was light and fuzzy. Not from blood loss—not yet. More likely from the shock of getting hit.

His helmet tilted down and he looked at the wound. The ring modulator distorted his whispered swearing but I still figured out what he said. “We need to get you to the hospital. Like, ASAP. And I can’t take you on my bike. Did you drive here?”

I nodded. “My car—it’s the dark green Explorer half-a-block that way.” I pointed down the street to the left with my non-bloodstained hand.

Red Hood nodded. “Keys?”

I pulled them from my other pocket and passed them over.

He swung me up into his arms and left. The crowd had cleared the front door in the time it took us to talk, so he marched across the front lawn and headed for my car. I heard Daisy call my name, but didn’t have the mental strength to call back.

As he walked down the block, each step jolting my wound, he said, “Batman, I’ve got a GSW. Taking her to the hospital. There was a hostile at a party in the suburbs. I took him down and the GCPD is on its way, but I’m moving the wounded girl.” He paused for a moment, but I couldn’t hear anything. “Yes, it’s a girl. She’s got her car here. I’m taking her in that.” Another pause. “Copy that. I’ll check in later.”

Red Hood set me gently in the passenger seat and laid it as flat as it could go. “Just hold on, babydoll. Hold on,” he said softly.

I scrunched my eyebrows as he shut the door and circled the hood to get in the driver’s seat. Once he gunned the engine, I put my clean hand on the arm of his brown leather jacket. “Why’d you call me… babydoll?” I asked.

“Well, I don’t know your name, miss, and I thought it’d be more comforting.” The car pulled away from the curb.

“You just heard my friend shout my name.”

He swore again and sighed. “Fine. Just don’t freak out. You’ll lose more blood.” He pulled his helmet off with one hand. “Couldn’t see as well to drive with that thing on anyway.”

Jason’s tousled black hair, white streak at the front, puffed up a bit as the helmet freed itself from his head. I tried to sit up, but fire burned in my side and I flopped back down before I’d even moved an inch. “What?” I squeaked. “Jay?”

His eyes flicked to me briefly. Deep blue and… there was something melancholy in them. “Yeah, babydoll,” he said. “It’s me.” There was his sad smile. One I’d seen many times. “You haven’t called me Jay since…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but I remembered when I’d stopped calling him Jay and “my Jay baby.” It was about a month before I finally had enough of his excuses and lies and broke up with him.

“Is this… is this why you always disappeared for hours and came back with excuses?”

“And could never seem to keep my story straight? Yeah. I wanted…” He sighed. “I wanted to tell you so many times but Batman said it would only be safe for me to tell you if we ever got married. And even then you’d still be in danger. You made me so happy and it killed me to lie to you. Killed me even more to lose you. When you broke things off… I am not proud to admit that every criminal I fought on patrol that night went to the hospital with more broken bones than I usually leave. I love you. Still. So much so that this past year has been… empty. Without you.”

I cleared my throat of the tears clogging it. “I said to Daisy earlier tonight, when I first saw you at the party, that I’d love nothing more than to get back together with you. But I couldn’t if you were going to keep things from me again.”

“Don’t get my hopes up like that while you’re in shock, please babydoll. Because I don’t know if you mean it or if you’re babbling from the shock and have no idea what you’re saying.”

“I told you I miss you,” I pointed out.

“That doesn’t have to mean you still love me or want me back.”

“But I do. To both. Love you and want you back. You can be honest with me now. But, we can talk about it when I don’t feel like passing out from pain.”

He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Don’t you dare pass out on me. If you do, you might not wake up again. Stay awake, babydoll. Stay awake. Please.” His grip tightened on my fingers. I tried to nod, but I wasn’t feeling well. My vision was a little blurry and I was tired.

“I’ll try,” I said.

We kept driving. Jason had fallen into pensive silence.

“Alright. We’re here,” he said. He parked my car and put his helmet back on. Then he ducked out, circled the hood, and picked me up to carry me into the ER, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Just stay awake. I’ll come visit—as me—later, okay?”

I nodded. “I’d like that,” I said.

Automatic glass doors slid open. Someone yelped. “GSW,” Jason said, voice modulated again. “Right side. No exit wound.”

“Get her on a gurney!” a nurse called over his shoulder.

I hugged Jason tighter. “Thank you,” I whispered.

He nodded. “Of course, babydoll.” His voice was soft. Comforting.

He set me on a gurney, and I watched him stride out of the hospital as they rolled me away.

—

When I woke up after surgery, Jason was there. Alone. Blue jeans, red T-shirt, hair a mess, and dozing in the armchair. “You look like crap,�� I croaked.

He jolted and sat up. “Speak for yourself, babydoll,” he retorted. But he spoke gently. “Your family’s down in the cafeteria, getting some breakfast. I told them I’d keep you company. Your mom looked like she might murder me just for suggesting it, but I told her we made up enough to be friends at the party. So she—begrudgingly, mind you—allowed me to stay.”

“Just friends?” I asked.

He smiled and sat forward to run the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “For now. You said we’d talk about it more when you were feeling better.” He leaned back in the armchair. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Still not great, but the shock has worn off, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“I meant it, by the way,” I said. “That you can be honest with me now, so if you’re willing, we can try again.”

Jason met my eyes. There was hope in his expression. “Are you sure?” he asked.

I smiled. “Absolutely. I told you before: I miss you.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to my lips. The EKG monitor beeped a little faster as my heartrate spiked. I grabbed his shoulders as he moved away, and pulled him back to me. He smiled into my lips as I kissed him again.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He tilted his head for a better angle, and I pushed one of my hands into his hair.

The door to the hospital room opened. “What’s going on in here?” Mom demanded.

#Want You Back #Jason Todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #Red Hood #red hood fanfiction #red hood imagine #DC #DC Imagine #dc fanfiction #BatFam #batfam imagine #batfam fanfiction

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Note

Ashridge Pack Ashridge Pack Ashridge Pack Ashridge Pack !!!!!!!

Awww, Anon! Here’s a long-sh, male werewolf x male human snippet for you then. It’s later in the storyline than where we left off on Patreon, but not by that much... Bear in mind it’s an unedited WIP, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.

Ashridge is a background story that I’m working on, but don’t intend to publish on here. It’ll be a self-published novel when it’s done, and my former-Patreon folks in the Discord will get to read it first and beta it for me.

___

Luke glanced to his left and watched Sol down the remainder of his glass with a grimace. “You pick a shitty one?” he asked and heard Harry’s short inhale of surprise from his left.

Sol looked at him and for a moment his blank expression was impossible to read. Then, to his (and Harry’s) evident surprise, he cracked a smirk. “No, but I’m not downing a single malt.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a whisky snob?” Luke blurted and earned himself a sharp dig in the ribs from Harry.

“Name me one decent blended and I’ll forgive you for that,” Sol growled, though Luke thought he could see a playful glint in the wolf’s golden eyes.

He narrowed his own in thought and chewed on his lower lip. When he glanced up, he found Sol’s eyes locked on the point where his teeth sank into the soft flesh of his lip. The alpha did not look up until Luke stopped doing it. “I’m told Suntory Hibiki is nice, but I’ve never had it.”

If Luke had just told Sol he liked to drink silver nitrate on the weekends, the wolf couldn’t have looked more surprised. It only lasted for a moment, but it was written so clearly on his face that Luke had to laugh. Sol’s shoulder dropped just a little and he twitched his chin at the empty bar stool beside him. Without waiting to see if Luke was going to sit, he turned to the bar tender and said, “Two Hibiki 21’s, please. No ice.”

The pounding bass of the club behind them was not enough to drown out his deep, rough voice, and neither was it enough to mask Harry’s hiss through clenched teeth. “Luke, what are you doing?”

With a poorly-concealed grin, Luke leaned in close to Harry’s ear and said, “Having a drink with the best looking werewolf I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“You’re nuts,” Harry mouthed, wide-eyed.

Luke just grinned, but when he turned back after Harry had slunk off, Sol’s face was back to his usual thunderhead severity. “You know he’s just anxious I’m going to put my foot in my mouth and piss off the pack’s alpha, right?”

“I’m not pack alpha,” he growled, glowering down at his hands on the bar.

On a whim, Luke reached out and gently placed his fingers over Sol’s. He felt the wolf twitch, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, he looked up at Luke, and his pupils soared wide the instant he found Luke’s face. Taking that for a good sign, Luke smiled, hopped awkwardly up onto the barstool, and said, “Harry’s a bag of nerves, and he forgets how much time I’ve actually spent with you lot. I think he still expects me to be afraid of you.”

“You’re not?”

“Of you or wolves in general?”

Sol swallowed thickly, his sharp Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat worked. He still looked like he was trying to bore twin holes in the counter top with his eyes as he looked away and mumbled, “Either.”

“Nah. I’ve seen what happens when you lot get a belly scratch. I can’t be afraid of any werewolf after that.” He instantly wondered if he’d pushed it too far with a pseudo-dog-joke, so he added, “Honestly, Harry’s the biggest dork I’ve ever seen when he wolfs out in the evenings in front of Bake-Off with me.”

Something shifted in Sol’s demeanour at that. He took a long, slow inhale and then offered Luke the slowest, sweetest smile he’d ever seen on the man. “You’re good for him,” he said quietly. If Luke hadn’t been watching his mouth — well, more accurately the coarse, black, three-day stubble around it — then he might have missed it altogether.

“We’re not, like, boyfriends or anything,” Luke added as the guy behind the bar slid his whisky towards him. He took it but didn’t drink yet, holding it by the rim and idly swirling the amber liquid around as he watched the lights of the club reflect in its depths. “I mean, we share a flat and we’ve been best friends since I was about twelve, but I’m pretty sure he’s ace…” He coughed and added, “Besides, he’s not really my type.”

“Because he’s a guy?”

“Because he’s a twink,” Luke snorted and chinked his glass against Sol’s where it still sat on the bar. “I don’t tend to go for guys who are already built like me on the whole. It has been known to happen, but I’m more into…” he looked pointedly over at Sol and raked him up and down with his eyes, and then grinned.

Sol’s thick eyebrows rose slowly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sol nudged his glass against Luke’s and sipped it without speaking, so Luke followed suit. “Mmm,” he hummed as the spicy liquor rolled over his tongue. “I was right.”

“You were,” Sol smirked, still not quite looking at him. The way he leaned against the bar showed his biceps off to incredible advantage though in the tight, wine-red Henley and it made Luke’s mouth go dry if he looked at him too long.

“You dance?” Luke asked, shooting a glance over his right shoulder at the floor behind him where Max and Laura were quietly grinding against one another and Harry, Onita, and a number of others Luke didn’t really know were laughing and dancing together, heads thrown back, lost to the beat.

“Not on the whole,” Sol snorted. “I’m not great at it.”

“Who is?” Luke laughed, taking another sip. He only had a few more mouthfuls before it would be all gone.

“Fair enough.” Sol surprised him then by tipping his glass back and sliding off the stool.

“Thought you didn’t down nice whiskies?”

“I said I didn’t down single malts,” he said with his eyes flashing alpha red for a moment. “That was still a blended, even if it was a good one. Dance?”

Luke knocked his back and took the hand that Sol extended. His palm was warm and rough, like he spent his spare time in a workshop, and let Sol lead him out onto the floor, winding between people.

Luke had to duck beneath someone’s arm as they flailed, and Sol tugged him close to avoid it. Laughing, Luke let himself fall against Sol’s solid chest and he spread his fingers appreciatively over the hard plane of muscle. Sol’s breath caught visibly and his eyes flashed again. A moment later, his hands found their way hesitantly to Luke’s hips and he raised one eyebrow.

In answer, Luke grinned up at him and suggestively swayed his hips in a figure of eight that had Sol literally growling. Delighted, Luke threw back his head and laughed, moving more to the music. For a while, they moved like that, with Sol’s hands on his hips and Luke just moving, but before too long, Sol turned him so that his back was to Sol’s chest and he drew in a short inhale as Sol moved up behind him and nuzzled briefly at his ear and began to kiss down his neck, all the while keeping his hands on Luke’s hips.

#ashridge pack #werewolf #mlm #male werewolf x male reader #male werewolf #alpha werewolf #werewolves #mlm story #mlm exophilia #mention of alcohol #alcohol #tw alcohol

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eriklivesinmybasement · 3 years ago

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Stop Repeatedly Telling Artists/Writers to “Just publish already!”

I’m here to rant and vent about something, because I don’t know where else to do so.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever mentioned this on this blog before, but for the last two years or so straight I’ve been working on developing a webcomic. The characters of which are ones I actually created WAY back in the beginning of sixth grade, so this entire project is very near and dear to my heart.

Growing up, my parents always made it a point to support me in my art and writing, having no problem with purchasing me notebooks and sketchbooks (so many sketchbooks...), and occasionally proofreading some of the stuff I let them read (though I usually didn’t give them much to read, as I often kept it to myself because I was still such a young and insecure artist). And despite the bullies I encountered in my classes, it was always good to know I had their support. But then their support started to take on a different tone about two years ago when I officially went full steam ahead working on my webcomic.

Now, instead of the exuberant praise I had received from them years before, I was met with the response of, “Nice. When are you going to publish?”

When I first received this comment from them, I just kind of stood there and shrugged, saying, “It’ll happen. I’m just still in the process of figuring everything out right now.”

“Well, just so you know, the longer you keep this story under wraps, the smaller your audience is gonna get. Better get on it, sweetie.” They’d respond.

And that was how all of these conversations went from then on out. Every time I brought up my story or it’s progress, all they would ask was about when I was planning on publishing. And the comments were all something like this:

“Good work. Publish already.”

“You have a good start. Why not just get your work out there? You already have everything you need.”

“Stop dragging your feet and just do it!”

“So, are you ever ACTUALLY gonna publish any of this?”

And with every comment I got more and more frustrated. It’s not that I didn’t appreciate their support, as I know that in their minds that’s what they were doing, but the more they pushed on me to publish, the more and more convinced I was that neither of my parents understand the creative process and how it works. One of my college design professors this semester said something that really struck me, and helped me perfectly describe how I felt about the creative process.

He said (and I’m paraphrasing a little here), “Most people seem to have it in their heads that an artist, writer, designer, etc. can easily think up a story or composition, and then effortlessly translate that to paper, screen, or canvas like magic. When in reality, nothing could be farther from the truth. Every creative project takes planning, and the bigger the project, as is the case with stories, the bigger and longer the planning process.”

This is a perfect explanation of how art is made. Artists are not as spontaneous as people make us out to be, and a lot of our best projects start out as drafts, that we come back to off and on to see what works. And this is something I wish more people understood. It’s not that I’m never going to publish, and I’m not shooting for the unattainable standard of perfection, I’m just still in the progress of scripting everything out, and that may take a little while to do. I feel like my parents, and others, don’t understand how the unique process of developing a webcomic works.

And there are other reasons as to why I can’t “just publish already”. It doesn’t just have to do with the fact that I’m not done with the creative process yet, but I have other things going on in my life that require my attention:

I have a job, where I’ve recently learned I’m in the running for a promotion, which would lead to me working more hours.

I’m currently taking online college classes, and two of those classes are art classes with very time consuming projects I have to complete every week.

I go to church every Sunday, and typically try to make that a relaxation day (because mental health).

Monday’s are family days in my family, no exception.

I have a social life with old friends, and I like to talk to them off and on throughout the week.

And I have been going to counseling for a while now to try and take care of my mental health.

And sometimes life stuff just comes up. Stuff I can’t always predict, and will sometimes have to adjust my schedule to accommodate them.

I have a real, actual functioning life outside of my art. Believe me, if I could somehow be able to focus 100% of my attention solely on my art, I would’ve done so a long time ago. But as I’ve become an adult, I no longer have that luxury.

I know this is a pretty long-winded post, but I needed to rant about this somewhere. It’s been on my mind for a while, and this is legit the only place I could think of to write and post it.

#art #artist #artist struggles #artists on tumblr #artists of tumblr #writer #writers #writing #writers of tumblr #creative #creativity #creative process #art rant #just venting

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poliel · 3 years ago

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Adopted Egg

Yo, I wrote a thing based off the Adopted Egg AU!

While Boiling Bay wasn’t as bad as Sizzling Sands or Frosted Peak it was still pretty bad. All the lava made it too hot to be comfortable and the various aggressive and angry bugsnax made it a pain to traverse. But hey at least getting headbutted by a giant angry popsicle or hit point blank by a big scoop of seemingly frozen solid ice cream cooled Buddy off fairly well. And the ocean water was nice lapping around their feet as they wondered back down the beach.

Thankfully though their pack was full of bugsnax though, at long last they’d caught everything single one that could be found here now. Meaning they could finally head back to Snaxburg. … After a quick nap though because they’d been out and about for far too long. And dawn was still a few hours away so almost no would be out and about when they returned to town anyway. So they turned and started for the wreck Floofty had taken shelter in before they’d been convinced to return to town.

As they neared it, they slowed because… was that a skeleton? Shaking off the initial shock, Buddy picked up the pace, jogging the rest of the way over. Yep, it was a skeleton all right, nestled up deep in the shade and protection offered the wreck’s overhang. Its bones were a clean white, indicating it was fresh. The sand underneath it was a dark maroon, probably blood. But most intriguing of all was the egg it was curled around, lying on a little blanket, the edge closer to the skeleton marred with more dried blood.

Far too big to be an eggler even if this was an area they showed up in, the splotches of dark green and magenta on it made it pretty clear that it was a grumpus egg andthat it couldn’t have come from anyone in Snaxburg. Not that there’d been any real question about the latter given the skeleton curled around it. But… none of this really added up.

It wasn’t too terribly long ago that Buddy had been down this way and in this wreck, their sense of time was very off these days but it couldn’t have been much longer than a week or two. While it was perfectly possible a grumpus had washed up here on a raft or something, crawled their way up here and then died, presumably via injuries judging based off the blood, it wasn’t possible for their body to have rotted all the way to bones yet. And even if there was something around that could eat a corpse, the bones looked undisturbed and unchewed on in general. So… where had it come from?

They lifted their camera to take some pictures, being sure to get some from as many different angles as possible just in case they needed to look over the undisturbed scene again later. Then, careful of the weight of their full backpack, Buddy crouched down to get a better look. First, they poked skeleton and then leaned in to sniff it, learning nothing. Next, they pinched up some of the red sand and lifted it to their mouth. Gagging they turned their head to spit because while they’d definitely confirmed it was blood it tasted foul, whether that was because it was several days old or something else, they didn’t know enough to say, either way they regretted decided to taste it.

After shaking off their disgust, they turned back to look at the skeleton and its egg. They needed to investigate more but also… they couldn’t leave the egg out here unattended. It was possible it had already been left out too long and thus it was too late for it but they had no way to know that for sure right now so… with a sigh, Buddy picked it up before straightening. Holding it to their chest with one paw, they pulled Sprout’s buggy ball out of their pouch and then pushed the egg in there instead. While it was about the same size, the oblong shape making it a bit bigger, it was notably heavier, making its presence uncomfortably hard to not be aware of but they’d live.

They pulled their backpack off to shove Sprout inside for now. There was barely enough room for him and he didn’t sound happy as they zipped it up but he’d just have to deal with it for a little while because they had some more investigating to do.

Any evidence about the skeleton or how it had come to be there had long since been obliterated by the wind and sea, leaving the mystery disappointingly unsolvable. Buddy searched high and low all over Boiling Bay and then Shimmering Springs too for good measure and found a whole lot of nothing, not even any shed fur anywhere or more dried blood. There was a notable lack of snakpods that weren’t high up though, indicating it was likely the mysterious grumpus had found and eaten them before succumbing to their wounds and somehow rotting away to nothing but a skeleton.

It was nearing midday by the time Buddy decided to give up and drag themself back to Snaxburg. While they weren’t squeamish about skeletons or dead bodies in general, they’d rather not take a nap next to one if they didn’t have to. Besides they still had the egg and what to do with it to worry about.

The first thing they did upon reaching town was drop their backpack off in Lizbert’s hut. Almost everyone would be expecting food but they’d all have to wait a little bit longer. Next, they went to the research tent.

“There’s a skeleton out in Boiling Bay,” they said as they sidled up to Floofty at their work table. “It’s in the wreck you used to live in. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Floofty looked up from the lollive they were dissecting with a sigh. “No. Even if I had any use for a skeleton, why would I leave it out there? And if you’re implying I killed someone, you’d also be incorrect. You can check around town to confirm everyone’s still alive if you don’t believe me.”

“Nah, I didn’t think you had anything do with it. I was just making sure since it’s in your old shelter and not many of the others ever go out to there.” Also if anyone in Snaxburg was responsible for it in one way or another they were near if not right at the top of list of likely candidates.

“Good. Now leave, I’m busy.” They lifted a paw to make a shooing gesture at them before looking back down at their work.

Buddy would’ve gladly left to go take a nap somewhere but they still had the egg sitting heavy in their pouch. Floofty wasn’t a doctor but they clearly knew some stuff and thus might be able to determine if the grumpling inside was still alive or not, thus saving Buddy another long trek up to Frosted Peak to ask Eggabell. So they pulled it out, placing it gently on the table. “I found this next to it. I figure you might be able to figure out if it’s been left out too long or whatever.”

Floofty paused for a moment before putting their tools down and shifting their attention solely to the egg. They carefully picked it up to hold up and turn in their paws, examining it from all angles. “Hmm…” The looked at Buddy again. “You found it next to the skeleton?”

“Yep. It’s really weird. Clearly, they died recently but… only their skeleton and a bit of dried blood are left behind. I looked everywhere for more but… there was nothing.”

“That is odd. Very well, I shall examine the egg. Later I would like to look over the skeleton as well.”

“Awesome. I’m going to go take a nap.”

They were awoken by the sound of raised voices. Their own fault for choosing to sleep in Lizbert’s hut with not only the door ajar but the window open as well. It was still annoying though. They could move and sleep elsewhere or close everything or heck, even just roll over and pull a pillow over their head to cover their ear holes but… what was everyone fighting about?

“…totally can take care of it by myself,” Gramble was saying, his voice two steps away from having a protective growl in it.

“Yeah, right.” Cromdo scoffed. “You’re half-starved and go wondering around and often outof town almost every night, no way you could take proper care of it and the grumpling when it hatches.”

Ah, they were fighting about the egg. Not surprising honestly but… why was it so hard for everyone to get along?

“So I should be the one to have it,” Cromdo continued.

“Hell no,” Beffica came in next. “You just want it for one your schemes.”

“She’s right.” Wambus, the only one not yelling so his voice was hard to make up from in here. “Ain’t no way anyone here would trust you with it.”

“Gramble and I are clearly the best suited to take care of it.” Wiggle. “Having a little grumpling might be the exact thing I need to spark my muse.”

“Uh, no offense Wiggle,” Beffica again, her tone making it clear offense was meant, “but taking responsibility for raising a kid is kind of a huge deal. Doing it because you want to ‘spark your muse’ is the wrong reason. And you know I hate to admit it but Cromdo’s actually right about something for once, Gramble’s barely keeping himself alive. Adding on taking care of an egg and then eventually a grumpling is a bit much.”

“Exactly!” Cromdo again. “Wait what do you…”

Gramble interrupted with a growl. “I can handle it. An egg is exactly what I’ve always wanted and now I finally got a chance and I ain’t letting any of ya’ll take it away from me.”

Wambus’ voice came in next. “Assuming you can somehow keep it alive long enough on your own, you’re going to teach it not to eat bugsnax and then it’s going to starve to death then.”

“Buddy already said after they finish publishing their story they’ll come back with food supplies for me so it’ll be fine.”

“Can I hold it?” Chandlo surprisingly cut in next. “Just for a bit.”

“Sure,” Triffany said, indicating she’d been the one holding it before.

The argument resumed after that but Buddy stopped paying attention as they rolled over and pulled the pillow over their head, muffling the voices to be near inaudible. They were curious about how it was going to play out but not enough to stay awake any longer for now. They’d ask for an update on it whenever they woke up properly.

They woke feeling not well rested – such was never the case these days and thus not worth trying for anymore – but good enough to go about their day and pretend they were fine. After forcing themself out of bed, they weren’t around town, doling out the fruits of their earlier hunting and donating everything left over to Gramble’s barn. They then returned to Filbo who was doing his rounds around town.

“What happened with the egg?” they asked as they fell into step with him.

“Oh uh… Floofty examined it and said it’s okay. And then as soon as word spread about it everyone fought about who should take care of it. No one wanted to trust anyone else with it for one reason or another. Eventually Chandlo suggested everyone could just take turns with it. Which no one was happy about at first but then we talked about it some more and that’s the best way to do it for now since everyone was fighting about who was going to adopt it.”

“Interesting solution. Who’s all taking turns with it?”

“Gramble, Wiggle, Beffica, Triffany, Cromdo, and Chandlo. I wanted a turn too but… Beffica pointed that I tend to be a bit uh… clumsy so maybe I shouldn’t have a turn since I’d probably break it or lose it or… something.” He let out a heavy sigh, sagging a little before perking back up. “She’s right though so… I don’t mind.” He’d never told a more obvious lie. “I can keep updated on it through just doing my normal stuff around town.”

“Hmm… it was great talking to you. I have something I need to go take care of though.”

“Uh… okay. See you later,” he said after them.

Beffica was in Filbo’s hut again, snooping. She jumped and even squeaked a little, as Buddy tapped her on the shoulder. “Oh, hey Bestie,” she said as she turned to face them. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Buddy normally would’ve apologized but they weren’t very happy with her right now so they went straight to business instead. “You need to let Filbo have turns watching the egg too.”

“Uh… why?”

“Because he wants to.”

“But… he’s Filbo.” She gestured with her paws as if her point were the most obvious thing the world.

Crossing their arms as they stared at her, Buddy didn’t respond.

It took her a few seconds but finally she sighed and rolled her eyes. “Fine. If you think he can be trusted with it, I’ll talk to the others about him getting a turn too.”

“Good. Thanks bestie.” They lifted a paw to fist bump her turning to leave. They had tasks and stuff they needed to get back to.

Not even a full two weeks later and everyone in town had been scheduled into have a turn pouching the egg. Even Floofty and Snorpy, the two Buddy would’ve thought the least likely to want anything to do with it. And a few weeks later when they finally convinced Shelda to return to town it wasn’t long before she’d basically taken on a grandma role to the egg, having her own occasional turn with it.

Buddy was the only one who didn’t have a turn taking care of it. They were too busy running around doing stuff and working on their story. They’d hopefully be free of this cursed island soon anyway so there was no need for them to get involved with it much.

But seeing everyone start to get along around the egg was nice. There was still fighting and disagreements but overall everyone was trending towards being nicer to each other. It was more than Buddy could’ve asked or hoped for, hopefully it would continue into raising the grumpling once the egg hatched.

I'm ending it here because a lot of the other ideas proposed for the AU are pretty scattered timewise which would make it hard to cover them in this fic quickly and coherently. But know, post game everyone ends up living in one big house to take care of the egg and there's polyamory stuff and more eggs going on in the group.

#my writing #bugsnax #the journalist

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mdhwrites · 3 years ago

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My Problem/Disappointment With Amity’s Parents

So what the show has done with them is fine. It's fine. Totally fine. They're high society, capitalist jerks who will abuse one of their children for the sake of them having a proper heir and it works and it's been done before and it's effective. It made them perfectly fine villains of the week. It's a shame that it also means missing out on some potential with Amity's character and her fears and makes no sense in context to Emira and Edric. Let's talk.

So, we'll start with Amity and I want to say that a lot more of this part is subjective. I recognize that what I'm going to talk about would have been much harder to do with the show's format and likely taken more time and that it is in fact effective. Her parents make you feel bad for Amity and you understand why she is under such constant pressure and fear. But... What if that hadn't been then case? What if they were strict, sure, and pushed her to succeed, like any set of parents would, but weren't cruel about it? Especially now that she's older and needs to start figuring out what sort of Blight she'll be and experiment with how she interacts with others of all walks of life and not just the best? Suddenly, Amity seems less reasonable to be afraid because a slip up may come with a talk but not a grounding or worse unless it was genuinely egregious.

Except then we get her obsession with never screwing up. Because she never had before Luz. Because she is a perfectionist who was taught that she needed to strive to be the best no matter what and to never show weakness, lessons she took to her core and never learned the second sides of. This would lead to the same character we see but she's now that really smart kid who only identifies as 'the smart kid' and so the idea of relaxing and being something other than that is terrifying to them. The pressure is as much in their own heads as it is from outside sources. They perceive a threat of consequences for failure that are far beyond what would actually be there.

Instead, we know that the consequences for Amity are exactly what she thinks they are, if not worse. I mean, when it came to hanging out with Luz, she likely foresaw getting grounded, yelled at, or worse, but she likely never saw her mom ruining all of her friends' lives as an option. That sort of extreme just means that she needs to readjust her assumptions so that she's closer to the next time her mom attempts to kill someone over her lapsing in focus. That's not nearly as interesting because it implies that she would be much better off without parents. That she'd be able to be close to as healthy as she is with Luz, who makes her forget about that pressure and fear, if she were instead in an orphanage and entirely having to self motivate.

In short: It puts the trait as being something outside of Amity, rather than inside Amity. It's an element of her past, not her. And that's not as interesting to me nor as unique.

But I also mentioned Emira and Edric earlier, right? Because take everything I just said about Odalia and consequences and just yeet it into the nearest sun. After all, while we see the twins try to take steps while directly helping Amity to avoid getting in trouble, such as just asking Mittens to be quiet about it, they obviously aren't subtle people. Hell, one of the main ways of causing trouble that we know about is them SKIPPING CLASS. That's not something you just get away with. Either they are doing something as a trade off to get those teachers to never report them, and report them to very influential people who have heavy sway with the Isles' version of the PTA, or Odalia and Alador have some idea that they're doing this. Also, skipping class usually makes keeping up in class harder so unless Odalia is okay with Cs and Bs rather than straight As, it'd be reflecting on their report cards too.

So how do you make these two halves work? Well, in the case of everything we know right now, you kind of don't. You can headcanon a lot of stuff to make it work but if we just go by what we know, Amity has a genuine reason to complain because a couple weeks at most of her grades not being constant 100s got her double the workload and her friends ripped from her while Ed and Em get to do as they please without consequence. And, reminder, THEY'RE OLDER THAN AMITY. If you want to include them being high society, of status, that means Ed and EM are the HEIRS. Odalia gives more shit currently to her youngest daughter than she does to her oldest. If it's because Amity chose abominations, why wasn't Emira forced into abominations instead? Or was she just that bad at it? We don't know but it is a gaping hole that we don't have an explanation for and I really think it hurts the entire Blight family dynamic because you have to effectively look at it either as it being a somewhat normal, privileged family with the twins, or completely dysfunctional and cruel with the parents.

BUT! This is all just my opinion and, as I said before, all of this has been effective. I still love the twins, I hate Odalia, and I feel sympathetic for Amity because her life is so rough. This is just stuff that has nagged at my brain for a good while now and I wanted to share, especially since I hope it'll help you all consider what the interconnected relationships between characters means rather than looking at them only one on one because otherwise that's how you get the Odalia/Amity and Odalia/Twins disconnect. What do you all think?

And last note because I need to shill if I ever want to make this writer thing work out, if you liked this, maybe consider taking a look at my original work Little Miss Rich Witch which was heavily inspired by Lumity and my thoughts on the high society elements around Amity. It's being published chapter by chapter on Amazon's new Kindle Vella platform where you can read the first three chapters for free and there is a promotion going on to get 200 free tokens which will take you through at least the first 9 paid chapters of the story. It would mean a lot to me and I hope you have a wonderful day no matter what.

#writing analysis #THE OWL HOUSE #high society #Amity Blight #Odalia Blight

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cmtuckerly · 4 years ago

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25 Things I learned by 25

1. A dream isn’t the same as a passion. Publishing a book is a dream, but writing is a passion. You can’t take away passion.

2. Don’t expect to become an adult during undergrad. You’ll definitely grow, but you’re still figuring things out. You’ll make mistakes. Undergrad is when you can still have fun, do whatever you want, and not be answerable to anyone (rejoice in not yet having a supervisor or boss to report to). You can take whatever electives you want. You can choose to study for that midterm for as much or as little you want. It’s one of your last times to be chaotic (whatever chaotic means to you) before going into the workforce or starting grad school, where you have responsibilities have and to answer to a supervisor.

3. You don’t need to impress anyone with your life, especially not your friends or relatives. It’s your life and you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with the choices your make, not them. Their judgements and approval aren’t going to be what sustains you. It only matters whether you’re happy with what you do.

4. Age differences matter less when you get older. When you were 18, it felt weird being in the same class as a 19 year old. But when you’re 25, you’ll be working on projects with people who are 22, 33, and 50, and everyone’s opinion has comparable weight. You gain a lot of wisdom and maturity when you work with people outside of your age cohort. Also, stop putting so much stock into your 20s. After having a year taken away from my 20s due to the plague, I’m trying to tell myself that being young is more of a state of mind than an age range. Likewise, I find the label “old soul” pretentious as heck.

5. Living harmoniously with your housemates means that you should communicate clearly what your expectations are for the bathroom and kitchen. Tell your housemates to clean their own hair from the drain after they shower instead of letting everyone’s hair clog it up after a month. Tell your housemates to clean their food from the kitchen drain after they do their own dishes.

6. No matter who shames you, don’t feel bad about staying up til 4am and waking up at 2pm. In a way, sometimes it’s a privilege to have a school/work life that allows you to have a dysfunctional sleep schedule. Embrace it while you can.

7. Don’t feel regret for the mistakes you made or the things you didn’t do. You only wish you made a different decision now because you have hindsight. At the time you made that decision, you didn’t know any better and thought that was the best choice. Those series of decisions and mistakes you made helped form the person you are and the wisdom you have now. So why regret that things that helped make you you?

8. It’s okay to lie to your family and friends in order to make it easier to get some space to breathe. You don’t owe anyone your time or explanations.

9. ”Your vibe attracts your tribe”. Something I heard from a youtuber. There will always be at least one person out there who likes what you do, no matter how niche it is. You’ll always find an audience for your voice. Keep doing you.

10, Some deadlines are flexible and some rules are bendable. Don’t always do things by the book. Things will work out. They’ll be fine. Rejection also doesn’t mean you’re not good enough or not capable. Rejections means you weren’t given that opportunity, but it doesn’t mean you are incapable to learning that knowledge. It’s also why going to college and having a post-secondary education isn’t necessary for success. Likewise, don’t take failure so seriously. Learn from it, yes, but it’s not going to matter in the grand scheme of things years from now.

11. Don’t mistake being nice for flirting. You’ll make yourself too vulnerable that way.

12. Invest mental energy into something meaningful. Staring at someone’s instagram profile or a celebrity’s photos on google images isn’t going to change anything. Similarly, that trip to Paris you took, the fairy lights in your room, or the hipster cafe you spend your time in doesn’t make you more artsy or cultured. The great plague of 2020 taught me to re-evaluate and redefine what’s left of my personality when I’m stuck at home for a year.

13. My favourite form of therapy: wandering solo. Whether it be walking through a city, a summer music festival, hiking through a forest, driving, or going to a museum or art gallery on my own. There’s a lot of freedom when you’re alone and anonymous.

14. Go eat alone in that restaurant (when safe and appropriate). No one is noticing. And if they do, take pride in the fact that you’re more open-minded and confident than they are.

15. No one remembers the mistake or embarrassing thing you did in your meeting or presentation. People have better things to remember and think about in their lives.

16. Fate is just meaning that we choose to give to certain coincidences. It’s not real.

17. Meet-cutes don’t end in happily ever after like they do in the movies. But they do make for interesting stories.

18. Don’t expect to meet the love of your life at a cafe, bookstore, social dance night, or whatever special event. People are mostly there to work, find a book, practice their dance skills, and socialize with their friends. They’re not paying much attention to people around them.

19. Maturity is being able to have a celebrity crush and knowing that it’ll never work out in real life and being okay with that. It’s all about learning how to have a healthy balance of emotional attachment and emotional distance.

20. I think one martini gets me just as tipsy as 3 glasses of wine. I need to do more tests to find out though.

21. A good conversationalist and someone who has the same interests as you doesn’t mean they’ll be a good partner. There are lots of people who fit that criteria. That’s why we have friends.

22. Fake it ‘til you make it. Feeling unconfident? Pretend that you are! Shy? Pretend to be the charismatic person you always wanted to be. No one will be the wiser. All the world’s a stage. Everyone’s trying to act out the best versions of themselves. As a shy introvert, I’m always worried about stuttering and betraying to others that I’m not as knowledgeable or confident than I actually I am. But I find that it somewhat helps to think less about what people think of me and to think more about the effect that I want to have on others. By projecting outwards, I become a little less self-conscious and ruminate inwards less.

23. Spending a lot of time with someone doesn’t mean you’ll be friends with them. After pulling all-nighters for group projects and seeing my group members more than my own friends and family for 4 months at a time and then never speaking to the group again despite how much we’ve bonded during the group project, I finally understand why actors don’t always become close friends with their co-stars.

24. Read. Learn how to tell stories, whether visually, orally, or textually. You’ll learn how to think more clearly. Unplugging from your phone and computer for 2-3 hours to do this really helps.

25. Be creative, curious, open, and spontaneous. Make the most of a disappointing situation. Be positive. Everything is an opportunity, from being stuck in traffic to being stuck in a grocery line. Everything can lead to a story that can be told later. Drive aimlessly for an hour every weekend and notice how the landscape changes and how neighbourhoods shift. Be open to taking up new hobbies. Be open to reconnecting with an old friend over coffee, even if the homebody inside you wants to cancel everything.

#life lessons #20 somethings #25 years old #college student #positivity #inspiration #philosophy #introvert #infj #mbti #personality #college #grad student #uni life #college life #university

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pynkhues · 3 years ago

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Hi Sophie! I’m an aspiring writer and I had a question for you!! How did you go on about finding an agent? Also how does one find job postings related to writing? (Tv, etc.) I’m very inspired by you and how talented you are!!!

Hi, anon! Thank you for your kind words, and it’s so exciting that you’re an aspiring writer! I think knowing that you want to write really is the first step on a pretty incredible journey, and it’s one that it helps have to have tools on. Knowing how to ask questions, like you did, is a great way to start building that toolkit too.

Especially because your writing toolkit will be something you build, because there’s not really one answer to either of your questions. I really mean it when I say writing and publishing is a journey, and as a part of that, the pathways people choose to take (and the pathways available to them) often vary a lot, and are impacted by so many things, from where you live to the genre and medium you write in to the networks you have access to.

I’m going to try to answer that for you as well as I can here which I hope will be a useful starting point for you, but I will be contextualizing it a bit with the fact that a) I’m in Australia, which has a bit of a different industry to many parts of the world (in no small part because we have a very small population), and b) that I worked in the industry before I started having my work published, which did give me a jump start and a pretty good network of professional and personal support.

Okay!

So let’s jump in.

Behind a cut because this got a bit long.

How did I get an agent?

Well! I was rejected by four agents before I got one, haha, so that in itself was a bit of an adventure. It meant that I was effectively my own agent for quite a while (something that’s quite normal in Australia for reasons I’ll talk about later), which meant doing everything from pitching works to teaching myself enough legal vocabulary to negotiate contracts (not my strong suit honestly, haha).

The first two agents I ever spoke to were both agents that weren’t open for unsolicited submissions. This is an important term in the industry, because what that means is that they’re not reading any new writers who:

they didn’t invite to submit (usually this would be after you’d won a prize, or they’d read your short story or essay in a journal or magazine, loved it and got in touch)

didn’t come recommended by colleagues; or

didn’t come through their existing networks.

Does that mean you can’t get your work in front of them? It doesn’t actually. Usually when agents aren’t open for unsolicited submissions, they’ll still be interested in work. It just usually means they don’t have the time for a massive slush pile. What they frequently do in these instances instead is that they’ll attend conferences, festivals, workshops or events and do pitching sessions a couple of times a year. That usually looks like you booking a five, ten or fifteen minute window, generally for free (be cautious if they’re charging extra on top of your event ticket) and doing a verbal pitch of your project.

I’ve done a lot of these at various events in various contexts (it’s always hell, haha), but only twice to agents. Once was at the CYA Conference in Brisbane (which is a charged pitch but the money’s a donation towards the Children’s Book Council), where I pitched a YA manuscript I’ve since put in my bottom-drawer, and Emerging Writers Festival in Melbourne, where I pitched The Rabbits, which is my novel which came out in July with Penguin Australia.

Those pitching sessions went just okay. Both liked my pitches, but the agent at CYA had a full stable of YA authors and was more looking for middle-grade fiction, which meant my story skewed too old. She gave me her card if I ever wrote for a younger audience, but otherwise declined to invite me to submit. Again, this is frequently actually why an agent might be closed to submissions or they might reject your work even if they like it – they're just at capacity with what you're pitching.

The one at EWF went better and I was invited to submit my complete manuscript, but she told me that while she thought I was a good writer, she didn’t personally like my writing style and therefore didn’t think she could sell it. She did actually invite me to submit something else if I had something more commercial, but I really figured that if she didn’t like my writing style, she probably wasn’t going to like whatever else I sent her, so I ended up declining because I thought it would be a waste of both our time.

The other two agents I submit to were both open for unsolicited submissions so I didn’t have to go through events. In both cases, I did cold submissions, which just means we’d never spoken before, so when you do that you need to put together a query packet because - - well. They don’t know who you are, haha. All publishers and agents have different requirements for their query packet and these should be listed on their website (if they’re not, feel really empowered to email and ask – in all of my industry experience, they have always infinitely preferred you doing that to guessing. It shows you know the etiquette and want to get it right).

Generally speaking though, what you're looking at pulling together for a packet is usually:

A cover letter explaining who you are, why you’re interested in them being your agent (being familiar with who else they represent is a good thing to highlight), and what story you’re selling them on.

A one-page synopsis of your manuscript.

A writing CV if you have one, or another relevant CV (i.e. if you're pitching a non-fiction book on being a nurse in the pandemic, attaching your nursing CV so they can see you're legitimate is important).

And usually either the first 50 pages or the first three chapters of your novel.

You generally email that to them, it goes into a slush pile, and they’ll read through it when they get the chance. I got a personalized rejection from one, which is pretty lovely (getting a personal rejection instead of one that’s clearly an email template from agents, editors and publishers might sound silly, but they’re actually pretty significant. These are people who get thousands of manuscripts a year, and taking the time to write a reply usually means your work resonated enough that they want to give you that encouragement even if the answer’s still no), and the other, I never heard back from, and my follow up email was ignored. Less lovely, haha, but unfortunately not uncommon.

So yeah, I took a bit of a break from seeking out an agent then, which I could do in Australia. One of the benefits of having a small industry here is that there’s a very limited number of agents (we’re talking literally about 25), which means submissions outside of agents and agencies are pretty normal. My understanding in the US and the UK is that you’re not really going to get a look-in without an agent, but in Australia you can submit direct, having an agent just makes it a lot easier.

So I didn’t have an agent when I actually got offered my book deal. I’d submit The Rabbits to a few different publishers, it had been rejected already by a couple and was still in the slush pile at one when I submit it to the Penguin Literary Prize. It won (yay!), Penguin offered me a book deal, and when the news broke in industry news, I was approached by six different agents, including, hilariously, the agent who said she didn’t like my writing style, haha.

I ended up talking to a few of them, but I went with a fairly new agent who I’d known through industry work, and I went with her because she had a really strong legal background which is what I was personally interested in.

Because that’s an important thing to consider too.

Why do you want an agent?

I actually knew that I didn’t really need an agent to sell my work. I’d been doing that for ten years already, I have over twenty short stories and a novella published, I’d sold my book, and I’d sold the rights to a screenplay already on my own, so the ability for an agent to sell work wasn’t so important to me. What was important to me was having someone who had a background in publishing law (my agent actually worked in the rights team in-house at a top five publisher before she became an agent), and understood rights management particularly in digital rights and international rights, because it makes my head spin, haha.

So that’s why I went with her!

But how do you find agents?

You didn’t ask this question exactly, but I think this is a very relevant question. There are databases of agents and publishers out there – Duotrope is probably the best known and I know people rave about it. One of the things that’s useful about it is that it’ll do a bit of a breakdown listing what genres the agent reads, if they’re currently open to unsolicited submissions, and their requirements. Take a look at Ginger Clark’s page for example (she’s not my agent – she’s American for starters, haha – but I have worked with her before and she’s a gem. Her most famous client is probably Ursula K. Le Guin, but she reps tons of other people too).

So yeah! Duotrope’s really useful. It has free info but also a paywall for certain things, and I personally find it kinda difficult to navigate?

I'd actually instead just recommend you take a look at writers you like and admire, especially ones who write similar genres to you, and just Google who their agent is. They all have websites, so they’re a lot easier to find these days than they were. 😊

How do you find job postings related to writing?

This is a tricky one, anon, as it depends on what sort of jobs you’re looking at. If you’re looking for copywriting opportunities, outlets for articles, short stories, poetry or essays, publishers who are posting open calls for manuscripts, or even cultural production jobs, those are all pretty different things. SO! I’m going to answer this one a little more broadly.

Writers Centres are your friends. Full disclaimer, I worked at one for five and a half years, and have been a member of Writers Victoria since I moved to Melbourne. They’re incredible resources for not only opportunities, but workshops, pitching, professional and creative development, community, networking and advice. They literally exist to help you achieve your goals.

- Writers Victoria maintains a free calendar of Opportunities and Competitions, but publishes more in their quarterly magazine which is a member perk. They’ll also often share job opportunities through their social media channels. I also still get the free e-news for Queensland Writers Centre and Writing NSW too because sometimes they share different stuff.

- I’ve heard Gotham Writers in New York is good too if you’re in America, but really I’d just suggest googling where you live and writers centre and seeing what comes up!

- Similarly festivals. I’ve worked at Brisbane Writers Festival and National Young Writers Festival here in Australia (the latter’s on online right now if you want to check out their free program!) Sign up to your local festival’s e-news, follow them on social media, they’ll usually share stuff.

- Speaking of! Social media! Haha. Twitter is often good for sharing jobs, competitions and opportunities, but I find it can be a bit of a cesspool too where people bombard the hashtags with self-promotion, so approach with caution. I find Facebook groups are way better for it personally, especially as there are a lot of specialized groups that are focused in certain or on certain writers. I know there’s lots for BIPOC writers for instance, I’m personally in a few and recommend:

Binders Full of WRITING JOBS

Binger Full of Copywriters

Style Binders – Writers in Fashion, Lifestyle and Beauty

Binder Full of Editors Seeking their Freelance Writers and Vice Versa

If you’re in Australia though, I’d especially recommend:

Women in Arts Management Collective (particularly if you’re interested in cultural production work)

Film and TV Networking Australia

Melbourne Women in Film

Writers Victoria Members

Australian Binder Full of Women Writers

Australian Arts Amidst COVID-19

Young Australian Writers

I think most of these are searchable, so just have a look, but also google your city or state + writer and see what pops up.

Otherwise, as much as it sucks to say it, a lot of the industry is who you know, so try and find ways to connect and meet with people and forge your own little community. Go to events – festivals, book launches, book clubs, join Facebook groups and in particular, if there are journals or magazines that are made in your local area, go to their launches and the events they run, no matter how big or small, and just chat to people there. As you get more established, you can be more discerning about what you go to, but when you're starting out, these are powderkegs of community and connection, and they breed suppport and, if you find the right people, you'll grow and develop together too.

Being a writer can often be pretty lonely, but being a part of supportive industry really makes all the difference, and as an old mentor of mine said – creative karma is real. You support the people coming up around you, and you’ll not only be creating a better, more inclusive and welcoming industry, but an industry that supports you right back. 😊

#i hope this is a help anon!#let me know if you have any other questions #learn from my gruelling experience haha #writing advice #writing #welcome to my ama

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pocketreads · 3 years ago

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REVIEW: The Dead and the Dark by Courtney Gould

Thank you to Netgalley for sending me an eARC in exchange for an honest review!

To Keep It Short: This is one of those books you have to read before you die. (A TL;DR can be found at the bottom of this review!)

Summary: Logan Ortiz-Woodley, daughter of TV’s ParaSpectors, has never been to Snakebite, Oregon before, but the moment she and her dads arrive, she knows something is wrong. Teens are disappearing, some turning up dead; the weather isn’t normal. Worst of all, all fingers seem to point to her dads.

Ashley Barton’s boyfriend was the first teen to go missing, and now that the Ortiz-Woodleys are back in town, his ghost is following her. When Ashley and Logan team up to figure out who—or what—is haunting Snakebite, their investigation reveals truths about the town, their families, and themselves that neither of them are ready for.

The Dark has been waiting for far too long, and it won’t stay hidden any longer.

Note: This book releases on 08/03/2021!

THE BOOK:

CWs: homophobia (verbal), child death, murder, claustrophobia (buried alive), drowning, slurs Release date: 8/3/2021 Publisher: Wednesday Books Page Count: 352 Genre: YA Paranormal horror/mystery Is It Queer: Yep! Bi, lesbian, and gay rep in every direction!

THE REVIEW:

Guys. Oh my god. I feel like the only thing I can say right now is wow. Wow wow wow wow. I am so in awe! I finished The Dead and the Dark with a pounding heart, utterly blown away by how incredible it was.

This is one of those books that snags you from the very first line and never lets you go. The hook all by itself is mind-blowing, and I knew right then that this was going to be one of my favorites of the year. The prose is rich, pulling you in so deep you’ll be seeing a vivid movie behind your eyes. Admittedly, I found a few lines to be a little too familiar (“She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding”). And sure, for the briefest of moments, it removes you from the story. But I’m telling you here and now, Gould is such an incredibly talented storyteller that within a single heartbeat, you’re reeled right back in.

The atmosphere of this story was incredible. It felt dusty and dark and damp and cold and hot all at once (in the best possible way!) and I had a wad of excitement and anticipation lodged in my chest every second while reading. It felt like stargazing in a field at the edge of the woods by yourself only to… slowly realize… you’re perhaps not as alone as you might have thought.

That said, if you’re looking for a good scare, this might not be the best place to look. I wouldn’t say this is a horror as much as it is a suspense. Perhaps for a younger audience (think late elementary/early middle school), this might have readers squinting into the dark and cowering beneath covers, but the heart of this story rests in tension rather than true fear.

The cast of characters were all deeply relatable in their own ways, and I adored all of them from the second they were introduced. I love a somewhat pessimistic protagonist, which is what we get with Logan without being overbearing or exhausting. Ashley’s uncertainty and fear and confliction hit me right where it hurts. I wanted to wrap both of these girls up in a blanket and give them the tightest hugs they’ve ever had – I want to be best friends with them. And, of course, Alejo and Brandon… well, what’s not to love about a pair of mysterious ghost-hunting husbands? (Yes, it’s as perfect as it sounds.)

The main romance in this story is seen between Logan – an openly gay teen and the adopted daughter to the two aforementioned ghost-hunting dads – and Ashley, a girl from a small, close-minded town whose boyfriend, Tristan, has recently gone missing. Ultimately, the romance is not the primary focus of the story, but don’t get me wrong: it’s here, it’s queer, it’ll make your heart melt. It’s something of a slow burn, and it’s so worth it. Writing a relationship in which one character is not only grieving but battling her own internalized homophobia is not an easy thing, but Gould manages and handles it extraordinarily well. The romance, while still being soft and wonderful, was refreshingly raw and real. I miss them dearly already.

Remember when I casually mentioned the missing boyfriend? I think I could talk about the mystery here for paragraphs upon paragraphs, but I will once again bring it short with a holy crap. Once again: mind blown. The mystery was beautifully dark and twisted and so insanely clever. I was jotting down notes trying to work out what was going on (I did not succeed, but holy hell was it fun to try and connect the dots). Almost everything ties up so neatly… **** ** *** **** **** *** ******? But honestly, everything else was pretty concrete, so in regard to the final rating, I’m letting it slide! Nothing’s perfect, after all.

★★★★★/5 STARS

TOO LONG; DIDN'T READ:

PROS: Super rich prose, incredible atmosphere, wonderful characters & romance, top notch mystery! CONS: A couple cliche lines, a loose thread in relation to the mystery (nothing worth neglecting the story over, in my opinion)

This is easily one of my favorite reads of the year thus far! You don’t wanna miss it!

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razberryyum · 5 years ago

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So you’re done with The Untamed and want more, what now?

Reposting this since I’ve updated it with new info/links. Again, I entered the fandom via The Untamed so I’m by no means a MDZS expert, just tried my best gathering all the resources I can which I hope will help some new Untamed/MDZS fan out there. If you spot any errors, don’t yell at me, just let me know and I’ll correct it as best I can, especially for any future reposts.

READ THE NOVEL

Read the original web novel the show was based on: The Untamed (aka “CQL” or “Chen Qing Ling”) was adapted from the BL web novel, Mo Dao Zu Shi (aka ”MDZS” or Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation) by author Mo Xiang Tong Xiu (”MXTX”). Yes the novel came first, CQL is only an adaptation. In the novel, you get the uncensored romance of Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, where they are canonically married and living happily ever after. The novel goes full into R18 territory so please tread carefully.

All four volumes of the novel can be purchased from the original publishing site, JJWXC. The site’s in chinese but here’s a tutorial on how to navigate it and purchase the books: JJWXC Tutorial Link.

There’s also the option of purchasing the physical copies from Yesasia which might be easier but it’s also more expensive since they’re the middle man: Yesasia MDZS Link

It would be wonderful if you can support MXTX-laoshi by actually buying the books, especially since the cover art is so beautiful and the extra chapter volumes come with a lot of awesome extra goodies, but of course there’s also the option of reading the fan translations graciously provided by the Exiled Rebels Scanlations team at their site:

They translated all the novels including the bonus chapters in their own free time and are providing the fanslations for free so please give them some love for all their hard work.

WATCH THE ANIME (aka “Donghua” in Chinese)

Watch the anime based on the novel: The donghua was released before The Untamed. Two seasons are already available (23 eps total) with a third season in production and a special chibi version of the donghua in production as well. The Eng-subbed donghua can be seen using the WeTV app or on Youtube: YT MDZS Donghua Playlist

Grant it, the donghua is even more censored than The Untamed, but the donghua team still managed to sneak in some easter eggs (f.e. WangXian naked bathing scene in the cold springs from the novel...in The Untamed they were fully clothed) and more importantly, the animation is just gorgeous so it’s absolutely worth a watch despite the censorship.

READ THE MANGA (aka “Manhua” in Chinese)

Read the manhua which is ongoing and is being officially translated by WeComics, available on their app for free. Search under the name “Mo Dao Zu Shi”.

Unfortunately, the official translations are more than 20 chaps behind the raws and there have been complaints about the quality of the translations in the past, but I believe they’re starting to improve so since they’re official, it’s always better to support the official source.

The raw untranslated manhua can be found on the Kuaikanmanhua app. Other than being in Chinese, some of the chapters (f.e. the most recent ones) are behind a paywall, but here’s a tutorial on how to purchase the chapters, provided by @chiharuzushi on Twitter: Kuaikanmanhua Tutorial

The chapters are quite cheap...I purchase 1000 KK coins for 10 rmb ($0.14) and each chapter is only 68 KK coins so even if we end up with 500 chapters it’ll still be...er...quite cheap overall (don’t make me do the actual math). The most painful part is figuring out how to set up the Kuaikanmanhua account, but otherwise, if you can read Chinese or know enough of the story by now that you don’t really need to read the words, the manhua is definitely worth reading because it’s less censored than The Untamed and the donghua.

LISTEN TO THE AUDIO DRAMA

Listen to the audio drama, which is at this point the most faithful and LEAST censored adaptation of the novel we will probably ever get! Wei Ying’s voice actor in The Untamed is the voice actor for his audio drama counterpart. (Yes, almost everyone in The Untamed is dubbed by a voice actor, EXCEPT for Nie Huaisang. Ji Li, the actor for NHS, was the only one who used his own voice. Lan Zhan in The Untamed shares the same voice actor as his character in the donghua).

Each episode art of the audio drama is AMAZING. Google Translate works well on the site, you’d want to see the listeners’ comments cuz they’re just adorable and hilarious.

Official links on Maoer FM:

Season 1: Maoer FM S1 Link

Season 2: Maoer FM S2 Link

Season 3: Maoer FM S3 Link

The audio drama was supervised by MXTX-laoshi, the author of the novel, so a lot of love and care went into the production, and it shows. The audio drama is behind a paywall but I remember it’s relatively inexpensive. Here’s the tutorial on how to purchase the audio drama from the Maoer FM site: Maoer FM Tutorial Link

Ngl, it was tough at first navigating all that, Google translate helped, but once I figured it out, it was all so worth it because in addition to the MDZS, the site houses a lot of other wonderful audio dramas. There are also MDZS fan songs on the site that are near professional quality and oh so good.

Suibian Subs have kindly translated the episodes and their translations are available here: Suibian Subs MDZS Audio Drama

Show them some love too for translating the episodes, but please if you can, purchase the episodes so you can support the audio drama team which have done an amazing job.

There’s even a Japanese audio drama which the Chinese AD team helped spearhead, available on the MIMI FM app. Here’s a tutorial on how to purchase the eps (half of the first season is out): MIMI FM Tutorial

It’s in Japanese but just follow the pictures. I’m hoping that the Japanese audio drama will end up being the MOST uncensored version of MDZS since Japanese BL dramas are not afraid (and allowed) to go all the way to R18. XD

MORE THE UNTAMED CONTENT

Lastly, if you’re just thirsting for more Untamed content, there are two spin-off movies you can watch. The first one, The Living Dead, is kind of centered on Wen Ning and Sizhui post-CQL.

The second one, Fatal Journey, is focused on the Nie brothers, Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang, with a cameo by Jin Guangyao. It takes place prior to Wei Ying’s return from the dead.

Of the two movies, I definitely recommend Fatal Journey more. Both movies are available on the iQiyi app, which offers a one month free trial for first members. Each month afterwards for VIP is $6.99.

You can also go on the WeTV app for even more Untamed extras: WeTV put out a special edition cut of the show which tightened up the story AND features the original ending that was intended before censorship forced the production team to come up with the more ambiguous one we saw in its original run. It was a simple matter of rearranging certain scenes and getting rid of the separation part, but imho it really made all the difference to the ending.

There’s a ton of behind-the-scene cuteness that you can watch and also concerts with the cast in Thailand and Nanjing. VIP subscription to the WeTV app is $5.99/month and the Nanjing concert is for rent for 3 months at about the same price.

The show also put out two official soundtracks, one for the vocals and one for the score. Both are available on Amazon and iTunes. For Amazon though, you can search under “The Untamed” but they did this weird thing where the vocals one is listed as “The Untamed (Chinoiserie Music Album)” (wtf) while the score is just listed as “The Untamed (Original Soundtrack)”.

Finally, most of the male members of the cast took part in a fan meet and greet at the start of the show, before it became hugely popular. The entire meet and greet is available on youtube subbed: The Untamed Fan Meeting

That’s it for The Untamed and MDZS. If you end up liking the novel enough to want to read more by the same author, MXTX-laoshi has also written two other BL novels, The Scum Villain Self-Saving System (aka “SVSSS” or “Scum Villain”) and Heaven’s Official Blessing (aka “TGCF” after its Chinese title). Both have been fully translated by fans (but always try to buy the original if you have the means, as a way to support the author!):

SVSSS Translation: BC Novels Link

TGCF Translation chaps 1 - 24: Sakhyulations Link

TGCF Translation chaps 25 - End: Suika & Rynn Link

As with reading any BL novel (aka “danmei novel” for Chinese BL books), please heed the warnings and if it’s not your cup of tea, just exit out of the page and move on with your life. No big deal, right?

Anyway, hope all this info dump helps someone! If you’re brand spanking new to this fandom, welcome, and I’m so jealous of you! Would love to relive stepping into the world of MDZS/MXTX/danmei novels all over again since I feel like I’m already running out of stuff to read and I’m beginning to panic a little.

Happy watching/reading/listening!

#The Untamed #CQL #Mo Dao Zu Shi #MDZS #WangXian #MXTX

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duhragonball · 4 years ago

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Hellsing Liveblog Afterward

So, this is just a place for me to toss in some other Hellsing stuff I wanted to talk about outside the reading of Hellsing itself.

Okay so first off, I wanted to document this cool trivia I noticed about Rip van Winkle, the werewolf(?) with the musket that fires magic bullets. Her weapon is based on the 19th Century German opera Der Freischütz. The opera is based on a story published by Johann August Apel in 1811, and this writing was based on German folklore. The legend involves a marksman who makes a contract with the devil and receives seven magic bullets. Six will hit whatever the marksman wants, but the seventh is at the sole discretion of the devil himself. In Hellsing, the Major speaks to Rip about her own musket and reminds her that the opera ends with Zamiel, the devil, coming to claim his due. This is intended to foreshadow Alucard counterattack on the H.M.S. Eagle, where he plows through Rip’s defenses and kills her in gruesome fashion.

So I went back and counted all the times Rip van Winkle shoots her musket, just to see if there was any special significant to it. The first was when the old Nazi officers complain to the Major, and Rip shoots the Colonel’s cane before he can strike the Major with it. At least, I’m pretty sure that was the idea here. The cane breaks and everyone looks around and Zorin points to the lady with the gun to indicate who just did that. So that’s one bullet.

After assuming control of the H.M.S. Eagle, Rip van Winkle meets with the Eagle’s first officer, who betrayed the crew to Millennium in exchange for vampire powers. She then betrays him and his fellow traitors, killing them all with a single shot from her musket. This is where we first find out what her ability is. So that’s two.

The British Navy tries to take back the ship by sending a helicopter full of SEALs, but Rip destroys the entire team with another shot from her musket. So that’s three shots fired.

While Hellsing prepares their own response, the Navy tries again, this time sending a fighter plane to sink the Eagle with missiles, but Rip shoots down the missiles and the plane with one bullet. Four.

This is where I started to wonder if there was a particular pattern to Rip’s use of the musket. I’m pretty sure she just uses one bullet and can fire it as many times as she pleases, but she was literally singing songs from the opera and it seemed kind of superfluous to have her foil two separate attack by the Navy. The first one showed us that conventional forces wouldn’t get the job done, so the second one only makes sense if Kouta Hirano was just trying to add to the count.

Then Alucard arrives aboard a modified SR-71 Blackbird. At 85,000 ft in the air, he’s out of range, but then he nosedives onto the deck of the ship. Rip fires again to destroy the Blackbird before it crashes into them. Five.

Alucard survives the crash and wipes out all of Rip’s soldiers while she has a panic attack. Cornered, she finally gathers her wits and attacks Alucard. Her bullet hurts him, but he eventually catches it in his teeth, neutralizing her weapon and leaving her at his mercy. That’s shot number six.

I was hoping this shot would be the seventh, since the seventh bullet in Der Freischütz belongs to the devil, and Alucard caught this one in his teeth, but no. Then I remembered that the musket gets fired one last time...

... in London, when Alucard releases the familiars of all the victims he’s consumed over the centuries, including Rip Van Winkle. She fires the musket once more, but this time it’s Alucard directing the shot into the helicopters of the Ninth Crusade. Shot number seven is at the discretion of the devil himself, and “Dracula” is a diminutive of “Dracul”, a Romanian word for “devil”. Neat stuff.

Okay, so now let’s talk about Seras, because that’s kind of my jam. What’s the deal with this line? “Her existence is somewhat of a marvel. You could say it’s somewhat of a joke. Perhaps she herself has not even noticed yet!!”

That’s the Major discussing Sir Integra and Seras in Volume 5. He stresses that neither is to be underestimates, and I think he makes a good case for Integra, but with Seras he never actually comes to the point. So what’s up with that?

Of course, there’s the truth we saw in the final battle. Once she finally drank blood of her own volition, Seras became a full-on vampire and one of the most powerful warriors on the field. She destroyed the Captain quite handily, and he was the strongest guy Millennium had. But this seems a tad obvious? Why not just spell it out for Zorin. “Hey, our intel says she’s weaker than expected because she won’t drink blood, but that could change at a moment’s notice, and she’s still strong enough to take down a lot of our soldiers, so proceed with caution.”

I’m not saying the Major is wrong. He told Zorin not to engage, and he made the right call. I’m just wondering what the “joke” is exactly.

I think it might be one of two things. By the end of Hellsing, Seras demonstrates a similar level of ability to Alucard. Sunlight appears to have no effect on her, she can summon familiars like Alucard, and regenerate her wounds with great alacrity. I’m pretty sure she’d be about as hard to kill as Alucard himself, which Integra said was a product of Hellsing “enhancements”, rather than natural vampire power. Except Seras was never “enhanced”, she seems to have just inherited these “super-vampire” powers from Alucard when he turned her. The Major and Doctor may have anticipated this, and the “joke” was that Seras could completely upset the balance of their plans, except she’s too squeamish to drink the blood that would make this possible.

Or, the joke might be that Alucard turned Seras at all. He just sort of did this out of nowhere, and I’m pretty sure no one saw that coming. Millennium and Walter had been keeping tabs on Hellsing for decades, and not much changed until Alucard decided to add Seras to the group. The vampires in Millennium’s Last Battalion were all produced through the Doctor’s artificial vampire research, which was based upon intense study of Mina Harker, the last person Alucard turned into a vampire before he met Seras.

So from that standpoint, Seras represents a superior version of Mina, who represents the ideal that the Doctor was trying to achieve. At best, his finest artificial vampires could only be as strong as Mina Harker, and Seras got that way in one night by a twist of fate.

I guess there’s no way to be sure what the Major meant. I checked the OVA subs and dubs and they basically repeat the same line, so there’s nothing for me to triangulate there. And maybe it only refers to Seras being a joke in the sense that she was mostly comic relief up to that point. Even that badass moment she had against Jan Valentine’s ghouls probably didn’t impress anyone at the Millennium office.

Finally, I checked out Hellsing: The Dawn, and it really wasn’t worth the trouble. I couldn’t find any official English release, so I sort of gave up on it, but I finally ran across it last week and decided to check it out.

Basically, it’s only six chapters, and very little actually gets done in those six chapters. I’m not sure if Kouta Hirano is just running super late on the thing, of if he abandoned it completely, but my guess is he got this far in and decided there really wasn’t any point in continuing.

Let me break it down for you.

Chapter 1: Walter is sent to the Major’s facility in Warsaw, to destroy the vampire research. He jumps out of a plane with Alucard’s coffin.

Chapter 2: The Doctor reports on his progress to the Major, and they briefly discuss “She” aka Mina Harker. From what I gather, Mina is still alive/undead in 1944. Then Walter crashes into their facility and declares his intentions to kill them all.

Chapter 3: The Major is impressed with Walter’s power and offers him a place in his command. Walter refuses and the Major leaves him to die at the hands of the Captain.

Chapter 4: Walter fights the Captain, and Alucard finally emerges from his coffin in Girlycard form.

Chapter 5: Walter and Alucard fight the Captain, who now stands revealed as a werewolf. The Major somehow recognizes Alucard on sight and takes an interest in observing the battle.

Chapter 6: Alucard leaves to go hunt down the Captain’s superiors, leaving Walter to fight alone. Alucard then encounters Rip van Winkle and defeats her with ease. He seems like he’s about to kill her when some menacing figures approach from the shadows...

In other words, not a whole lot actually happens that we couldn’t have guessed from the original Hellsing manga. At the rate he was going, it would have taken Hirano maybe 30 or 40 chapters to actually get to anything truly juicy, and I’m not sure the audience would have wanted to wait around for that. The main problem is that we already know how this ends. None of the good guys or bad guys die, because they all show up in Hellsing 55 years later. The Major will lose badly enough that he has to evacuate the whole operation to Brazil, and that interests me because somehow he has to lose this battle, but not so badly that he can’t escape.

What disappoints me is that there’s really only three things of interest about this part of the Hellsing mythos: Walter’s decision to betray England, Alucard’s relationship with Walter, and the Major’s relocation from Euope to South America. The Dawn appears to gloss over all of these. The Major asks Walter to switch sides in their very first encounter. Walter refuses, but we know he’ll say yes later, so there doesn’t feel like there’s any conflict to this. So far, Walter comes off like a little shithead, so if he changes his mind at the end of this story it’ll seem completely capricious. I’d like to think the Major could say something persuasive to convince him, or Alucard could piss Walter off enough to push him into the Major’s arms, but none of that seems to be happening.

The Girlycard form is taken completely for granted. Al shows up and Walter immediately takes offense. He knows Alucard doesn’t normally look like this and he sees no reason for this new look. Al just says the same thing he says about it in 1999, that form and appearance mean nothing to him. Well if it doesn’t mean anything to Alucard or Walter, what’s the point?

The way I always imagined it, the Girlycard form had a lot of emotional baggage for Walter. I figured he met Alucard in this form, and they spent some time together hunting down the Major. Walter fell in love with Girlycard, even though he should have known better, and when Alucard finally abandoned the form, he knew that there was no way his feelings would ever be returned. And this would build resentment within Walter, making him more interested in joining the Major.

Instead, none of that seems to be happening. This is just one big long fight in one building. Hirano already threw his biggest gun at Walter, so there’s no buildup to the Captain. Alucard won’t fight the Captain, but it’s unclear what else he’s supposed to do instead. There might be a good story in all of this, but these first six chapters don’t encourage me. Also, they keep jumping over to check in on Arthur Hellsing in London. I don’t think this guy is Integra’s father, but maybe her grandfather had the same first name? He looks cool, but he has nothing to do. He’s like thousands of miles removed from the action, so anything he says or does just comes back to him talking about how tough and cool Walter is. So yeah, I think The Dawn is a huge waste of time, and maybe Kouta Hirano reached the same conclusion.

And... yeah, that’s all I’ve got. In May, I’ll be liveblogging another comic. Will it be as successful? Only time will tell...

#2021hellsingliveblog #hellsing #hellsing: the dawn #alucard #rip van winkle #seras victoria #walter c dornez

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dancingkirby · 4 years ago

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Shipping

I’m sorry, but it had to be done. Do y’all think this would work better as a Short Story, or just a oneshot on its own?

DAY 1

To celebrate the tenth anniversary of his ascension to the throne, Zuzu and Mai were off on a world tour. Azula had been left in charge of ruling the country. While Azula was glad that he was finally realizing that she wasn’t always thinking about world domination all the time, so far her regency had been extremely boring. Now, she was more than halfway through it, and absolutely nothing of note had happened.

Today had started out like all the others. She hadn’t slept great the night before because of the high winds that had battered Capital Island, and they hadn’t ebbed down very much by morning. She’d had trouble getting her hair to stay in its topknot while training. But the morning council meeting had proven as tedious as ever. Azula was paying the exact minimum amount of attention required as the ministers droned on about tax brackets; most of her brain was occupied on what she would have for lunch that day. Noodles were always nice, but she’d had them for two days in a row now. Anytime she ate any food on multiple consecutive days, there was always the risk of speculation among the courtiers that she might be pregnant. Never mind that she hadn’t even done any sex acts that could result in pregnancy for years…

The door to the meeting hall abruptly swung open. An out-of-breath messenger stood in the doorway, blushing deeply as nearly twenty pairs of annoyed eyes scrutinized him.

“You do realize that you are intruding on a confidential council meeting, correct?” Azula inquired of him.

“I’m t-terribly sorry, P-princess,” the messenger managed to get out. “But I was told that this needed your immediate attention.” Could it be…that something interesting was about to occur for a change?

“All right. What is it?” she asked. At her hand motion, the messenger climbed up to the dais and whispered in Azula’s ear.

“Okay. I’ll be right there. We will continue this meeting at a time to be determined later,” Azula stated.

So here she was on a tugboat, looking at the enormous cargo ship that had somehow gotten wedged into the Strait of Azulon. Azula turned to the old salt who was leading efforts to remove it and said, “Explain.”

“That ship is called the Agni-Given, Princess,” the man said somewhat stiltedly; it appeared that he was trying to rein in a sailor’s natural tendency to use copious foul language. “It’s one of the largest cargo ships in the world. Today, it was passing through the strait when the high winds pushed it off-course and into a sandbar. It also got tangled in some old nets from the Gates. We’ve been trying out dam…darndest to free it, but no luck.”

Azula took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly out of her nose. “And what have these initial attempts included?”

“We attached every tugboat in the harbor to it to try to pull it out, but it didn’t work, Princess. That fu…freaking thing is stuck deep into a sandbar. Next step would be to try to dig it out.”

“Explain how that would be accomplished.”

“Yes…well…”–the old man paused–“We ain’t sure yet, to be honest. The problem is that the place where the bow is stuck is seventy feet underwater. All of the excavating machines available were built for use on land. We was thinking of trying to get some of those new forklifts, try to extend their reach, and bring them out on boats, but…that would take time.”

“Forklifts? Is that the best you could come up with?” Azula demanded. She found herself imitating her brother’s famed nose-bridge pinch. This would not do at all. She needed an ingenue, someone who could design a whole new kind of machine if need be. And she thought she knew exactly where to find one.

DAY 2

It had been the end of a long day, without much progress being made. Azula was just about to demand that the larger, more comfortable boat they’d made ready for her today take her back to the harbor when, at long last, the other ship that she had been awaiting arrived. After this watercraft was tethered to hers, a figure came running down the gangplank, arms outstretched.

“Azula!” Sokka exclaimed. “How’s it going? We haven’t seen each other in forever…hey!” His attempts at embracing her had been thwarted by the princess grabbing his shirt at arm’s length.

“Not in public, remember?!” she hissed. Then, just as formally as if he were any old dignitary, she added in normal tones, “Councilman Sokka. It is good to see you here. I trust that your journey here was uneventful?”

“Yeah, except we had to go around the long way because of…well…that,” Sokka replied, gesturing at the still firmly-entrenched Agni-Given. “So how do you want me to assist, O Princess?” He did a little bow, and could not quite manage to keep a straight face.

“Watch it,” Azula reprimanded again. Whenever they encountered each other, she always needed to remind him that their relationship was a melding of intellects and occasionally flesh; romance had absolutely no place in it.

“I recall that you designed a vehicle that could travel underwater,” she explained. “Would it be possible to modify this concept and attach equipment for shoveling? Or perhaps even the capacity for finer manipulation to untangle the net remnants?”

Sokka took a few moments to consider as he beheld the enormous ship. Finally, he replied, “Yeah, I think that’d be possible. It’ll take a while to draw up plans and get everything built, though.”

“Very well,” Azula told him. “I suppose we shall have to simply endure each other’s company for a little longer.”

“’Endure?’ Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Sokka gave a wink that was obviously meant to be seductive, but in fact only made him look ridiculous. Azula elbowed him in the ribs.

They did, in fact, end up fucking that night, after Sokka had eaten what seemed to be about half of the palace’s food supply for dinner. They hadn’t seen each other in more than three years, and Azula was scrupulous about taking her contraceptive tea, so why not?

Sokka tried to kiss Azula after, but she didn’t let him.

DAY 3

Zuko had sent a message asking if he should cut his celebratory tour short and come home to help with this problem, but Azula quickly scribbled out a reply that they had everything under control.

Today was the day that Sokka would first meet with the team of engineers assigned to resolve this problem.

“And I’m sure that all of you will give him the respect that he deserves,” Azula told them in the most pleasant voice she could manage. Some of them were obviously pissy about being forced to consult with a man who was half most of their ages. Well, too bad. Anyone who tried to ignore him would be upbraided with the utmost harshness personally by her.

DAY 10

The manufacturing process had begun. Sokka informed her that he had dubbed this new invention the “shovelmarine.” He did not attempt to conceal his sheer glee at this horrible pun. Azula threw a pillow at him.

While the two of them worked by day and screwed by night, things were starting to get out of hand in the Harbor District. The plight of the Agni-Given had captured the imagination of the public, and kiosks had sprouted all over the piers selling miniature models of the grounded ship. It seemed that every single street musician in the city had composed his or her own ballad about the situation. Fan magazines had been established simply for the purpose of publishing the flood of stories and art that the more creatively-minded citizens had concocted. Azula had gotten a hand on one of these volumes, and her favorite story was a somewhat graphic recounting of a speculated liaison between the Agni-Given and the statue of her grandfather. Apparently, the statue was the dominant partner in this relationship…just as it should be.

This magazine had also included a drawing depicting her own activities with Sokka. She knew that she should be furious about this; that the culprit should be tracked down and executed, but she found it just too amusing. The picture was even surprisingly accurate, except that Azula had not actually handcuffed Sokka to her bedpost. They had improvised with the sash from her nightrobe instead.

DAY 16

“Okay, lets see what these shovelmarines can do!” Sokka said as the contraptions touched the open ocean for the first time. The two of them watched from the boat that was by now almost as familiar to Azula as her own suite of rooms at the palace were.

As it turned out, the shovelmarines (Azula had grudgingly accepted this terrible name) could do quite a bit. Over the next several days, they worked steadily at the problem. Finally, three weeks to the day after the Agni-Given had first gotten stuck, it once again floated freely, although it would be have to be drydocked to repair all the damage.

In his excitement, Sokka had tried to kiss Azula. She had initially resisted, but he had used his ultimate weapon: polar bear dog eyes.

“All right, but only once. And on the cheek,” she cautioned him.

DAY 25

Sokka had departed two days ago, and Azula hoped that he wouldn’t try to send love letters or anything stupid like that. He should know how it worked by now. Whenever they happened to meet, they would rekindle their affair for the duration of the visit, and then they went their separate ways until their next encounter. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to keep this up forever, but it would be fun while it lasted.

And today…Zuzu and Mai made their triumphant return from their tour.

“Wow,” said Zuko as the two of them stood at the harbor, observing as the last of the debris was carried away. “You and Sokka took care of that whole mess all on your own! Thank you, Azula.” At this point, he obviously knew from experience not to make any comments about her relationship with the nonbender.

“Why do you sound so surprised, brother?” Azula asked, turning toward him and raising an eyebrow. “It’s almost like I am, in fact, a competent ruler and don’t spend all of my days dreaming of bloodshed and destruction! Who would have ever guessed?”

“That’s not what…” Zuko began, but he could say no more as Azula caught him by surprise, got him in a headlock, and began inflicting a merciless noogie on him.

“Admit it, Zuko,” she crowed. “I’m awesome!”

“Okay, I surrender!” he squeaked out. “You’re awesome.”

She released him. “There. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? Now let’s go get some ice cream.”

And so they did.

#azula #sokka #fanfic #sokkla #sort of #keep in mind that this is a rough draft

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snowdice · 4 years ago

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Big Bang (Sort of) Editing Story [Day 38]

I started writing this fic while editing my Big Bang story, but am going to continue doing it for other things now that Kill Dear is out. I will write and publish 100 words of the story every time I finish doing whatever task I’m doing. If you’d like to block these proceedings, please feel free to block the tag proofread stories. I will reblog this post with the parts of the story I do today. Edited chapters are linked; everything else I’ve done so far is under the cut.

My Master Post Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

Not sure how long I’ll go. Maybe be an hour may be six. We’ll have to see!

Chapter 15

Patton strolled up to the doors to the royal wing, his arms crossed casually around his middle.

Kalani raised an eyebrow as he approached and gave her the most innocent expression he could. “Whatcha got there, Pat?” she asked.

“Hmm?” he asked, as his sweater squirmed. “What do you mean?”

She considered him for a moment. “Well, I see nothing suspicious here,” she said. “Do you Owen?”

“Nothing,” he replied without hesitation.

Patton grinned at them both.

Kalani leaned in like she was going to tell him a secret. “Who is it?”

Patton made a show of glanced around like he was hiding it from anyone passing by. Then he shifted around to pull up just the bottom of his sweater.

A small black paw reached out from the depths of his sweater and swatted at the air.

“Ah, I see,” Kalani said, reaching out to touch the little paw. “Hello, Mittens.”

Patton giggled as Owen poked the cat’s stomach gently through the sweater, making her wiggle a bit and try to bite him.

“Well,” Patton said. “I better be off with my totally normal sweater.”

Kalani nodded and stepped to the side, and Patton was free to head down the hallway to Logan’s room. Patton knocked on the door with their new extra secret knock and Logan all but ripped open the door. “I’m late. I have to go,” he said, darting past Patton.

Patton smiled, happy that his plan to be running a little late to come watch Virgil had worked so well, even though he felt a little bit guilty about it. He hoped Logan wasn’t late to his meeting, but he also knew that if Logan had noticed Mittens, he wouldn’t have let her into the room.

Virgil was already out of the closet, sitting on one of the chairs. Patton came in and smiled at him. Unlike Logan, Virgil’s attention was immediately drawn to the oddly shaped lump in Patton’s sweater.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” Virgil said.

“It worked on Logan,” Patton defended himself.

“Logan was about to rocket into space if you didn’t show up in 5 seconds,” Virgil pointed out. Patton just shrugged, and Virgil tilted his head. “What do you have?”

Patton grinned wide and carefully pulled Mittens out of his sweater. She did not resist this maneuver at all, simply purring. He held her up for Virgil to see. “Ta da!”

“A cat?” Virgil said.

“This is Mittens,” Patton said. He then turned to Mittens. “Mittens, this is Virgil. I thought I’d introduce the two of you!”

Virgil blinked at the cat. Mittens blinked back. Patton thought maybe he should have let them sniff each other from under a door before doing this.

He didn’t need to worry though, as Mittens started purring after a moment. “You can pet her,” Patton offered. Virgil looked up at him. “Just…” he said.

“She likes chin scratchies!” Patton prompted.

Virgil reached out a hand to scratch under her chin and that was the end of it. Mittens stretched out her chin happy to get the attention and Virgil’s eyes widened at how soft her fur was. It was a work of minutes before Virgil was sitting down on the floor and Mittens was happily kneading his thighs and spinning around in circles to make sure he pet every inch of her.

“I did not understand why people like cats,” Virgil commented. “All I’ve seen of cats is people coming back with bloody scratches from trying to pet them, so I never even tried.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Cats are just like people. If you’re nice to them, they’re more likely to be nice to you.”

Virgil’s hand paused briefly on the cat’s head, but then continued with the petting a moment later. Patton wondered what he was thinking about, but didn’t press.

“She seems to like you,” Patton said.

“Don’t know why.”

“Hey, don’t be mean.” Patton scolded.

Virgil hands jerked away from the cat he’d been petting and then were forced abruptly to his side in reaction. Mittens meowed, seemed very unhappy with the jostling as well as the sudden lack of petting.

“Sorry,” Virgil said, eyes wide. “What did I do wrong. I didn’t mean to be mean to her.”

It took Patton a moment to sus out what he was talking about and felt a pang in his chest when he did. “Oh, no honey. You didn’t do anything wrong. I meant don’t be mean to yourself.”

Virgil gave him a confused look. Mittens bumped her head against his chin and with a blink, he cautiously went back to petting her.

“Of course, she likes you sweetie, you’re a good boy.”

“I came here to kill the king. I’ve killed before.”

Patton smiled sadly. “I don’t think you ever wanted to,” he said. Virgil seemed to grow very interested in mitten’s ears. Patton scooted over so he was sitting beside him and carefully brought a hand up to touch the top of his head. Virgil sort of curled into him, pressing his face against Patton’s shoulder, but continuing to pet the cat.

“It’s fine. You’re going to be okay now,” Patton said softly.

Virgil shook his head against Patton’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Patton insisted. “You’ll be okay. You won’t have to go back.”

Virgil didn’t respond for a long moment. “You can’t keep me in Logan’s closet forever,” he said softly. “When his dad comes back, you’re going to have to turn me in.”

Well, that was true, but… “It’ll be okay. No one will hurt you.”

“The kings would be assassin?” Virgil asked skeptically.

“Thomas is nice. He’ll understand.”

“He’s nice to you. He’s nice to Logan. Maybe he’s even nice to the people he rules over, but what am I? An enemy assassin who would have slit his throat if I hadn’t gotten the wrong room.”

It…it did sound bad when he put it like that, but, but… “Thomas will understand,” he promised, hugging him tight. “He will, and we’ll keep you safe and I’ll introduce you to every single cat in the castle. In fact, we’ll get you a cat to keep as a pet if you want and he or she can snuggle you as much as you want. I’ll show you all around the gardens and introduce you to Mama and help you figure out what your favorite type of cookie is. You’ll never have to hurt anyone again and no one will ever hurt you again.”

Virgil drew away a bit and shot him a half smile. He clearly didn’t believe him, and it made Patton’s stomach twist a bit. Patton knew. He knew Thomas would be nice. There was no way he’d hurt Virgil. Virgil was just a kid and with Logan and Patton on his side, there was no way anything bad would happen to him. He could see it from Virgil’s perspective though.

“I like her feet,” Virgil said, touching Mittens’ little black paw that contrasted her otherwise white coat. Mittens purred and began kneading his legs again with those paws. “I’m guessing that’s why she’s named Mittens?”

“Yeah,” said Patton softly. “‘Cause she looks like she’s wearing mittens.” Virgil leaned forward to kiss her little head and that little action made Patton’s heart ache for him. He deserved so many kitten kisses. So many.

Patton was determined to make sure he got them.

Chapter 16

“Well done,” Logan complimented when Virgil looked up at him for approval. It was the first time Virgil was trying to make the protection charms without Logan’s instructions. Logan was of course still in the room in case he had questions and the boy had a written set of instructions next to him, but for the most part Virgil was doing it on his own.

“Now,” Virgil said squinting down at the paper next to him, “we wait for 35 minutes.”

“Fifty actually,” Logan corrected offhand, focused on his own potion.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Virgil said. He grabbed the timer and set it for the appropriate time.

Then, he stepped away from Logan’s nontoxic potion station. Logan saw him edge a bit closer to peak at what Logan was working on, though he was careful to maintain a distance. Logan wasn’t sure if this was because he’d been warned of the possible harmful substances Logan sometimes used at his experiment table or because he was worried Logan might not want him to approach.

Logan looked up at him. “You can come closer. Nothing here is very dangerous.”

Virgil nodded and walked over to peer at the boiling pot. “What are you making?” he asked.

“I am once again attempting to invent a potion that will reliably remove cat hair from surfaces,” Logan said, glancing over at Patton.

Patton looked up from the bracelet he was making and stuck his tongue out at Logan.

“I can never seem to find an adequate solution,” Logan said.

“The solution is to accept all parts of kitty love!” Patton insisted.

“Or maybe the solution is to exile you from my room for the rest of time,” Logan muttered. Patton chose to ignore him and go back to working on the bracelet.

“Do you want any help?” Virgil offered Logan.

Logan smiled at him. “I’m actually almost finished with this step and there isn’t much left to do but thank you.”

Virgil nodded. “Oh, okay,” he said. He shifted back and forth a few times.

“You’re well on your way to mastering this potion,” Logan said. “I was thinking that next I could teach you how to make a tracking charm. I marked a passage about it in the book on that shelf.” He gestured to one near the station Virgil had been working at. “Why don’t you go ahead and read that while you wait?”

“The…” Virgil said. “The green book?”

“Yes,” Logan said. “I left a bookmark in the correct page.”

“Um… yeah, sure. I’ll go… read that.”

Logan nodded and turned back to put the finishing touches on his own potion as Virgil walked away.

Logan finished up his potion up after a few minutes and covered it to let it simmer. He looked over to see that Patton had flopped onto his back, still working on the bracelet and Virgil had sat near to him with the book on his lap open. Logan walked over to them.

“What do you think?” Logan asked.

Virgil glanced up at him. “Erm,” he said. “Looks good.”

“Which option do you like better?”

“…The second one.”

“Really?” Logan asked, surprised.

“Uh… yes?”

“I’m surprised,” Logan commented. “I figured you would shy away from the ones that required a blood sacrifice.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “I… didn’t notice that. I would like to not do that one, please.”

“You didn’t notice?” Logan asked. “Half of the entire first page is dedicated to a discussion of it.”

There was a beat of awkward silence.

“Virgil,” Logan said. “Can you read the first paragraph on that page?”

He grimaced.

“You can’t read?!”

“Logan, tone,” Patton snapped when Virgil flinched.

Logan took a breath. “I am not upset that you cannot read, but what have you been doing for the past week when I have given you written instructions for the protection charm potion?”

“Not… read it.”

“How have you been making the potion?” Logan asked.

“I just remember the steps, and if I’m not sure I ask. You’re usually distracted enough that you barely notice.”

“If I had known this, we would have done a completely auditory explanation.”

“Sorry.”

Logan sighed. “You didn’t need to pretend, Virgil.”

Virgil blinked up at him. “Sorry.”

Logan just shook his head. “There is nothing for you to be sorry for. In fact, you are the one who is owed apologies from many people in your life for a multitude of reasons.” He knelt down to take the book from him. “Here,” he said. “For now, I will read this passage to you while we wait for the potions to finish brewing. Later we can talk about changing my lesson plans in reference to the potions as well as adding reading lessons into your schedule.”

“You… want to teach me how to read?” Virgil asked.

“If you are willing,” Logan replied. “It’s a useful skill to have and opens up many doors.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it,” Virgil said with a frown.

“If you can memorize an entire potion recipe from start to finish with inadequate vocal instructions, I’m sure you can learn the alphabet perfectly well.”

“Okay,” he replied sounding a bit doubtful.

“And once we get you to an appropriate level, I’ll let you read a book about stars I enjoyed in my youth.” He seemed pleased with that prospect, and Logan smiled at him. “For now though, let’s read this together.”

“Okay,” Virgil said. Logan opened the book in his lap and started to read. He noticed that Virgil was leaning over to look at the page despite the fact that he couldn’t read it, and so he began to point to the words as he read. His reactions to the words on the page were honestly quite funny when Logan caught them. His nose would scrunch up in confusion every time he thought an instruction nonsensical, and he’d squint his eyes at the words as though willing the sounds and letters to connect in his head. Logan wouldn’t be surprised with his memory if he had parts of it memorized by the end.

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After a few minutes of reading, a light weight descended on Logan’s shoulder. Virgil had settled his chin on Logan’s shoulder to peer at the words. Logan did his best not to draw attention to this fact and shot a glare at Patton when he clearly noticed, sitting up to smile widely at them. Luckily the boy was sensible enough not to squeal as he oh so clearly wanted to. Logan pointed out a picture while explaining what the caption said and then giving a personal antecedent. Virgil touched the page curiously and asked a question about the story before laying his head back down on Logan’s shoulder. They continued in this way until the potion was finished.

Chapter 17

Virgil’s suspicion was growing. Logan and Patton seemed to have something planned. Luckily, whatever it was didn’t seem to be malicious, at least, Virgil hoped it wasn’t. He truly didn’t think that Patton had it in him to be so clearly excited about anything cruel. He also didn’t think Logan had it in him to be cruel, he was just was better at masking his excitement.

“What?” Logan asked innocently when Virgil gave him a pointed look the second Patton left to do ‘something’. Virgil would almost believe he truly wasn’t planning anything if it wasn’t for the way his lips twitched just a bit at the corners. Virgil glared harder.

Logan dared to laugh lightly at the expression on his face. “Come here,” he requested. “Patton wanted me to make you pick out a book for him to read to you tonight since, I quote ‘You’ve gotten to read him all sorts of stories the last few days.’ I attempted to explain that it was not purely for fun, but he insisted.”

Virgil grumbled, but wandered over to look over at the books laid out on Logan’s bed, settling his chin on Logan’s shoulder. “What do they say?” he asked.

Logan pointed to each in turn. “Five Dragons and a Flame. The End of May. A Stone in the Meadow. Or you can continue to read The Never-ending Garden.”

“I want to finish The Never-Ending Garden,” Virgil decided.

“Good choice.”

“Now will you tell me what you’re doing?” Virgil asked.

Logan just chuckled. Honestly, it was like he didn’t know that he had an assassin right next to his carotid artery. “Why do you think something is happened?”

“Patton’s a shit liar.”

“Be careful,” Logan said. “I might just have to tell him you said that.”

“Then I’ll tell him what you said when you accidently dropped the lavender into that potion,” Virgil threatened back.

“Hmm,” Logan said. “Truce?”

“On that,” Virgil agreed, “but you still need to tell me what’s going on.”

“It is a surprise. A nice surprise,” Logan informed him. He looked at Virgil’s face. “Don’t pout at me.”

Virgil had not been aware that what he was doing was pouting, but he did whatever it was harder.

“Patton would murder me,” Logan claimed, “but I suggest you try that on him the next time you have a chance. You will certainly get whatever you want.”

Virgil sighed and gave up, figuring he’d learn whatever the surprise was soon enough. He chose to flop down on top of the pile of pillows on the floor that had been laid out already. It was his fourth ever slumber party and the first had only been a week ago. He did not know much about slumber parties, but that felt like a lot.

Goodness, it had already been two weeks. He looked up at the ceiling. He felt safe here. He felt like he didn’t need to watch Logan’s every move as he organized things in his room, but it wasn’t going to last, was it? The king was set to be back in a week. Virgil needed to actually attempt to escape soon. He hated that fact. He didn’t want to leave, and he certainly didn’t want to go back. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d figure something else out, but no mater what, he did have to escape, and soon. He looked over at Logan who was slotting the books Virgil hadn’t picked back into place on the bookshelf. Not tonight.

There was a knock on the door in a familiar pattern, and Logan walked over to open it for Patton. Virgil sat up to shoot a confused look at the giant thing that Patton rolled in.

“Ta da!” Patton said excitedly.

Virgil blinked at him.

“It’s food,” Logan explained.

Virgil perked up immediately. That must be a lot of food if he needed that to carry it.

“I know you haven’t gotten a chance to try a lot of different foods, so I asked Mama if I could use the kitchen earlier today and made a bunch of different type of food samples for you to try.”

That sounded like literally the best idea in the universe. These people were very good at surprises and Virgil would not question them again ever for the rest of his life (or, well, the next couple of days he was around them before he tried to escape and either managed it or died a bloody and painful death).

Patton seemed to feed off of Virgil’s excitement, practically vibrating himself as he gestured to different parts of the cart. “We have a bunch of types of cheese and crackers, mini sandwiches, different smoked meats, six types of pasta, and every leftover I could find on this shelf. On this shelf, we have things with hot sauce, things with spicy dry rubs, curries, and things with a lot of peppers. I’ve ordered them by spiciness level so we can what you can handle, and we’ll only go as far as you want. Then this shelf is a bunch of types of cookies, mini cakes, pies, and ice cream!”

“We are not starting with the sweets,” Logan said firmly.

“But Lo!” Patton whined.

“We do not want to make him sick, do we?” Logan asked.

Patton pouted. Virgil honestly had no preference. All food was good food in his experience.

“Fine,” Patton said. “We’ll start with the cheese.”

They had him sit back in the center of the blanket pile and handed him little portions of things. Some of the cheese tasted weird at first and Patton would giggle at the faces of surprise he made, but Virgil managed to if not like, then tolerate almost all of them.

Then came the different sandwiches, some hot and some cold and all of the pasta and leftovers. Virgil eyed the plate of fettuccine alfredo long after they had moved on.

“You can have some more at the end if you still have room,” Logan promised with a fond smile. Virgil frowned at him. “You want to try all of the food, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you can’t eat an entire plate of fettucine alfredo.”

“Maybe you can’t,” Virgil said darkly.

Logan just rolled his eyes and passed him another plate.

Eventually they moved on to the next shelf full of what was deemed ‘spicy food.’

“Part of this is figuring out what level of spiciness you can handle,” Patton said. “So, tell us when it gets to be a bit too much and we’ll move on two the deserts. Also, milk helps wash the spicy stuff that so drink some if you need to!”

Virgil nodded and accepted the first dish on that rack.

Virgil, it turned out, liked what they called “spicy” food even though some of it made his nose run a little bit. It was kind of fun to eat them, honestly. Some of them hurt a tiny bit, but they also tasted really good. It was strange.

“I am impressed and horrified,” Logan said when he finished that shelf. “Do you… have nerve endings in your mouth?”

Virgil shrugged. “Well,” Patton said, sounding pleased. “Now it’s time for the best part! Assuming you still have room.” Virgil nodded immediately and Patton handed him a plate he’d covered with chunks of cookies he’d torn off. He ate every single one of those and then went through the rest of the deserts. Everything was fantastic and he’d like to investigate a few of the cakes once more, but…

He pointed insistently at the fettuccine alfredo.

Logan shook his head but handed it over. “How many stomachs do you have?”

Virgil did not care to respond, choosing instead to shove his mouth full of pasta.

When he was done with that, he laid back to relax and digest the food, feeling very content. Logan and Patton had also eaten a bit of the different dishes and were finishing up themselves.

“You good there?” Patton asked after a moment of Virgil just laying with his eyes closed.

Virgil nodded.

“Did you like your surprise?”

“Uh huh.”

“It seems he will not be doing any of the other planned activities for a little while at least,” Logan said. “So now might be a good time for you two to read,” he suggested. “I’ll get the rest of the food stored in case we want something more later.”

“Okay,” Patton agreed. Virgil didn’t open his eyes, but felt Patton settle next to him. Virgil rolled slightly, so his head rested against the side of Patton’s leg. A hand touched softly down on the top of Virgil’s head and Virgil heard a page flip. “So, let’s see. I’m not sure when exactly you fell asleep last time, but how about we start at the Troll Bridge?”

Virgil hummed his ascent.

“Okay,” Patton agreed as he started to read. “‘Melly stepped onto the bridge backwards while sticking her tongue out at Al, but Lydia’s eyes widened as a large looming figure stepped up behind her….’” Virgil listened happily to him read about the four children. He liked this book. He hoped they managed to finish reading it before Virgil had to go.

Chapter 18

They made it all the way to the big blowout between Al and Melly where Melly got mad and left the group to their fate in the magical garden by the time Virgil awakened completely from his food coma (he’d never actually fallen asleep, or at least he always responded when Patton asked) and squirmed around for a bit before sitting up.

Logan hadn’t been particularly interested in the story he’d heard many times before and was reading a book of his own on Patton’s other side, but he put a bookmark in his book when Virgil sat.

“Want to take a break from reading?” Patton asked. “We can do a bit more later, but we have more than just food and books planned for tonight.

“Okay,” Virgil agreed easily.

“Great!” Patton said clapping his hands. “We’re going to introduce you to the most fun sleepover party event ever!”

Virgil tilted his head.

“Dress up!” Patton said. “Also make-overs. We’ll do you first and then we’ll help you learn how to help pick out other people’s outfits and make-up. If you want to, of course.”

“Sure,” Virgil said with a shrug.

“Yay!” Patton hopped to his feet. “You stay here. Lo and I will get everything ready.”

He pulled Logan to his feet and over to the chair that was the perfect height for doing make-up.

They set up what they’d need for make-up and then Patton instructed Logan to grab the clothes of his they usually used for this sort of thing out the closet that Virgil wasn’t set up in while he grabbed the pieces he himself had brought upstairs and strew them over the bed so they could see anything.

Smiling happily, Patton looked over at Virgil who had stood up in the giant pile of pillows and blankets to watch him with intense eyes. He looked like he was memorizing every action Patton took as though expecting a test at the end. He was so adorable. A rush of affection and a touch of mischief hit him suddenly.

“Hey Virgil,” Patton said. Virgil looked over at him. “Can I tackle hug you into that pile of pillows?”

“Tackle hug?” he asked.

“I run over and hug you so hard that we fall into the blankets. I do it to Logan all the time without warning, but I didn’t want to confuse you.”

Virgil considered the offer for a couple of seconds. “Okay,” he finally decided.

“Great!” Patton did a little hop before launching himself across the room. He slammed into Virgil, who apparently had very good balanced because they didn’t immediately fall backwards, but then he seemed to remember that he was supposed to let Patton slam him into the pillows, and so he fell back on his own power.

Patton giggled when they hit the ground and drew back to look at his face. “I got you!” He leant forward to kiss him on the nose. “Oh wait! I should let you fight back.” He propped himself up on one arm and held out the other hand. “Pinkie promise not to hurt anyone if I let you use the 3rd setting again?”

“Pinkie promise,” he agreed with a grin, linking their pinkies.

“Great!” Without hesitation, Patton did the hand motion to allow the restraints to be in the third setting.

Patton was on his back almost instantly, but he didn’t even have a chance to think about worrying before Virgil pressed a kiss to his nose in a mirror of what Patton had done a moment before. “I got you,” he said proudly.

“So, you do,” Patton agreed with a laugh. He reached up on of his hands to card it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil leaned into the touch and then practically melted on top of him. “Virgil,” Patton laughed. “It isn’t nap time.”

He grumbled something unintelligible into Patton’s neck making Patton giggle more.

“Sweetie, please.”

Thankfully Logan saved him from the unrelenting cuddling by poking Virgil in the side. “I have finished preparing the stations for the makeover and dress up. You need to get up now.”

Virgil made a noise that sounded like a growl, but he did roll off of Patton.

Patton hopped to his feet and helped Virgil up before pulling him over to the piles of clothes. “We pick the outfit first, but you don’t put it on. Then, we do your make-up and hair based on it. Then, we get you dressed and do touch ups. Okay? Pick anything you want.”

Virgil looked over the options, eyes going a bit wide. “It…” he said. “It all looks really fancy and expensive. Are you sure you want me to touch any of it?”

“We wouldn’t be offering anything we didn’t want you to touch,” Logan said gently. “In fact, I insist you touch all of it. Beyond just appearance, making sure the texture of the fabric is agreeable is a large part of this activity.”

Patton picked up one of the pieces of fabric he knew was very soft and offered it to him. He touched it with careful fingers, his eyes lighting up at the feel of it. They had to continue nudging him into feeling the different fabrics, and he hesitated when they asked him to pick his favorite at the end, but eventually he shyly pointed at a dark purple dress.

Patton clapped. “Great! Ooo, I already have some ideas for make-up that will go with that.”

Virgil let Patton pull him over to the chair they’d set up and settled down on it.

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Patton hummed. “I think silver and purple make-up mostly?” he said.

Logan nodded and they grabbed a few things from the make-up kit. Logan let Patton do most of the make-up as he tended to be better at the more creative parts, but Logan was the one who gave him the fancy winged eye liner with purple sparkles because he was really good at them.

“You look fantastic!” Patton squealed when they were done. He held up a hand mirror for Virgil who studied himself in it for a long few moments. “Do you like it?”

“It’s really nice,” Virgil confirmed. Patton smiled and hugged him.

“Next hair. We have a lot of accessories. I’ll let you pick from the purple ones.”

He and Logan sorted through the jewelry box full of different hair accessories for the royal family and ended up finding three purple ones. Patton hesitated a bit over one of them, but Logan picked it up and set it in front of Virgil for him.

“Your choice from these three,” he said.

One was a purple feather with little hooks to braid into hair, one was a smattering of purple and silver stars that would weave through the back of someone’s hair, and the last was a string of silver leaves with purple tips that would wrap up the back of a person’s head from a bun.

Virgil thought for a moment and then pointed to the one made of leaves.

Patton glanced at Logan who took the hairpiece. “I’ll do your hair right for that one,” he said. “I know how it fits.”

He grabbed the brush and carefully ran it through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seemed to like the attention, leaning into the touch, and a smile flickered over Logan’s face. Logan started gathering the hair together to make the low bun that would be the base of hair arrangement. Patton honestly did not expect him to speak, but then he did as he started to secure the piece with pins.

“This was my Pa’s favorite hairpiece,” Logan said. “Not the father you came here for, but my other one. He died when I was six.”

Virgil went shock still. “I don’t have to...”

“I wouldn’t have let it be offered if I wasn’t okay with you using it,” Logan said.

Virgil didn’t move as he finished securing the hairpiece. “There,” Logan said when he was done. He picked up the hand mirror and positioned it so Virgil could see. “It suits you.”

“I…” Virgil said. His eyes were wide, and he clearly didn’t know what to say.

“Now,” Logan said. “I believe there are some other pieces of jewelry that would match this very well in the other room. I…” he turned away. “If you will excuse me.”

He turned away and exited through his bedroom door into the hallway. Patton watched him go and then turned to Virgil. “I’m going to go make sure he’s okay, okay?” Patton asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong, there’s just a lot of emotions.”

“I can take it out…” Virgil said.

“No,” Patton said. “I think he likes that you’re wearing it.” Virgil bit his lip. “He never really moved on,” Patton felt inclined to say. “This is… a lot for him, but I think it’s good too.” He leaned forward to kiss the top of his head, being careful not to mess up his artfully done hair. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to follow Logan out of the room.

Chapter 19

Thomas sighed in relief as the door to the royal wing finally came into sight. He was exhausted from his journey to Lamir for many reasons. Beyond just the physically taxing journey, he’d also had to deal with the emotions of loosing someone he had thought of as a friend while also trying to help her young daughter who had just had the crown thrust upon her.

Now he just wanted to see his own child and curl up into bed. He smiled at Owen and Kalani as he approached. “Is Logan here?” he asked.

Owen nodded. “The prince and his royal advisor are having a slumber party.”

Thomas smiled. “Of course, they are,” he said.

He said goodnight to the two guard as they’d be getting off duty soon even if he did manage to drag himself out of his room again tonight and walked past them into the hall.

He walked past the room where they kept the jewels, though was unsurprised to see that the room was unlatched as Patton loved playing around with the different jewelry and had probably left it open when he grabbed them. He was however surprised when his son’s room’s door was thrown open, as Logan usually couldn’t stand for the thing to be open with or without him in it.

Thomas didn’t think much of it however, and simply walked over to look inside. He was surprised when he didn’t see his son or Patton and instead saw that the only person in the room was a young boy that Thomas did not recognize. He was seated in one of Logan’s chairs and had his head tilted looking at himself in the mirror. He seemed to be trying to get a look at the ornament on the back of his head, and Thomas felt his heart seize a little bit when he recognized the hairpin.

He hadn’t recovered from that gut punch when the boy’s eyes drifted and met his in the mirror. There were a couple of long seconds where the two of them stared at each other in silence.

“Hello?” Thomas finally managed to get out.

Panic. There was suddenly horribly intense panic in the child’s eyes, the likes of which Thomas had never seen before. Thomas could only blink dumbly as he hopped to his feet like his seat was suddenly made of hot coals and then threw himself across the room to the opposite side from Thomas.

He looked around himself, back to the wall and considered Thomas with wildly spooked eyes. Clearly, he realized that he was pinned in Logan’s room by Thomas being in the door.

The boy dropped suddenly and disappeared under Logan’s bed.

“Uh,” Thomas said, confused and shocked and still a bit in pain from seeing that piece of jewelry in use. He crossed slowly over to the bed and bent down to look under it, moving the bed skirt slightly to the side. He saw a small shaking blob curled up into itself under the bed. “Um, hi,” he said softly.

The blob did not respond except to continue shaking.

Thomas frowned and settled himself onto the floor. “It’s okay,” he said softly. Had he been here stealing things? Thomas had to wonder as he wasn’t sure why someone here for legitimate reasons would be acting so terrified of being caught. Though, that posed the question of how he’d gotten past the guards, and why Logan hadn’t noticed him. “I’m not mad,” Thomas said. “You’re fine.”

The boy looked up briefly from his knees looking terrified. Thomas tried to smile at him gently, but that just made him hunch into himself more, his breathes coming faster. That wasn’t good.

“No, shh,” Thomas said softly. “It’s okay. I promise it’s okay.” He did not seem to believe him, and Thomas winced. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just leave him here but trying to talk him down himself didn’t seem to be working.

Luckily, a familiar voice spoke from behind him then. “Dad?” Logan asked.

Thomas looked back at him. Both Logan and Patton were standing at the door, a couple of pieces of jewelry in their hands. They seemed very surprised to see him.

“You… seem to have a guest,” Thomas informed them.

“I…” Logan said, beginning to edge into the room like he was expecting something to blow up at any moment. “Yes.” He got to Thomas and squeezed himself between him and the bed, putting a physical barrier between Thomas and the boy. Confused, Thomas took a couple of steps away without challenge. “That,” Logan glanced behind him. Patton had moved to the opposite side of the bed from Logan and Thomas and had gotten to his knees to look under it. “That is Virgil.”

Thomas blinked at him. “Virgil?” he asked.

“He’s… new to the castle,” Logan explained. Patton started speaking softly the boy, but Thomas could not make anything he said out. “Patton and I… invited him to a sleepover.”

“The guards didn’t mention anything,” Thomas said, sure that they would have warned him if there was a stranger in the royal wing.

“Uh, well, Virgil is… shy and we didn’t think you’d be back for another week. So, we snuck him past them.”

“Shy?” Thomas asked doubtfully. That was a lot more than shy.

“Particularly of adults,” Logan said.

Thomas took a moment to let that sink in. “Oh.” He was… scared of adults. Thomas could imagine many reasons why that might be the case and none of them set well. “I see.”

“Hey, no, sweetie, stop that,” Patton said, sounding distressed. Patton had managed to draw Virgil out from underneath the bed, though they were both still mostly hidden behind it and Thomas had no question in his mind that if he went to step towards them, Virgil would be back underneath it in a moment. Currently the boy seemed to be clawing at his own head. “No, baby shh,” Patton said, trying to stop him from tearing the pinned in hairpiece out, Thomas realized. “I’ll get it out,” Patton promised him. “Just calm down and let me do it.” He sounded close to tears, and Thomas couldn’t particularly blame him with the way the boy was acting. “You’re hurting yourself, baby.”

He must know, Thomas realized. If Logan had known he was here, then he must have allowed him to use that hairpiece. He’d probably even told Virgil that it belonged to his dead father. Now he was probably terrified that Thomas would be mad at him for touching it, especially when he’d come in to find Virgil alone without Logan to explain.

Patton managed to get all the pins undone and placed the piece delicately on the bed before wrapping himself protectively around the boy and hushing him.

Logan was looking back at them as well. He looked between the puddle of upset on the floor and Thomas. “Could…” he said. “Could I maybe come and see you in a few minutes, Dad?”

“Of course,” Thomas said. “Of course, I’ll go wait in my room. Take as much time as you need.”

He was careful to move slowly as he stepped towards the door, so the poor thing didn’t notice him move and mistake it for him approaching. He closed Logan’s bedroom door softly behind him feeling even more drained than he’d been before as well as anxious and a bit sickened. He went to his own bedroom to wait for Logan.

Chapter 20

Logan let out a slow breath as his father closed the door behind him. That could have been very, very bad. He turned his attention to Virgil and Patton. Patton had curled himself around Virgil as much as physically possible and had tucked the boy’s head under his chin.

Logan slowly rounded the bed and knelt in front of them. “It’s alright,” Logan said, cautiously moving to put a hand on his shoulder. Virgil didn’t pull away. “I asked him to leave. It’s alright.”

Virgil tilted his head slightly too look at him. Logan rubbed a circle into his back as he slowly got control of his breath.

Logan smiled softly at him and reached out to touch his cheek with a gentle hand. “You… didn’t hurt him. You didn’t even try to hurt him.”

Virgil shook his head.

“Why not?” Logan asked curiously. “It was a perfect opportunity.”

“Promised Patton,” Virgil mumbled, and the idea that perhaps the thing that had saved his father’s life was a pinky promise just about gave Logan a migraine, but then Virgil ducked his head. “And it would make you sad.”

“I see,” Logan said, heart in his throat.

Virgil kept looking towards the floor, his eyes starting to fill with tears again. “Are you going to turn me in now?”

He was shaking and barely holding back a fresh wave of tears. Logan knew of course that no one would hurt him here if he turned him in to his father and the guards, but he also knew that Virgil would be terrified if he did so. He was already terrified. Logan didn’t want to know what he thought the fate Logan would be condemning him to.

“No,” Logan said before he could even truly think it through. “No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?” Virgil asked.

“Well, there wouldn’t really be a point, would there?” Logan asked. “The reason we planned to turn you when father got back in is because you posed a danger to him, but you have just demonstrated that is no longer an issue.”

“Really?” Virgil asked, sniffling a bit and Logan saw Patton’s arms tighten even more around him.

“We will have to figure out a better cover for you than just that you’re new to the castle, but I believe it will work fine. No one besides the two of us would ever guess your origin anyway.”

“S-so I can stay?” Virgil asked, “and you won’t throw me into prison or execute me?”

“I promise you were never going to be executed Virgil,” Logan said. “Even if we turned you in, but yes you can stay with us. We’ll figure out a backstory for you that doesn’t involve assassinations and you’ll have to keep up the lie, but I doubt anyone will question it.”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Virgil said, chocked up. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to go.”

“Well, you’re our friend now so there will be no going anywhere,” Patton said kissing him on the cheek. Virgil relaxed back into his hold, pleased with the affection.

Logan smiled at them both. “Can I see your wrists, Virgil?”

Virgil blinked but offered them and Logan tapped the restraints doing a quick incantation. They popped off after a moment.

“You’re letting me go?” Virgil asked, eyes wide.

“Of course,” Logan said. “We’re not just going to keep you prisoner for no reason.”

“That’s…” Virgil said, eyes watering as he clearly was trying not to cry. “You’re the best people I’ve ever met.”

“I wish that was not so clearly the case,” Logan replied. He slowly reach up and set a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to go speak with my father. Patton will stay with you.”

“Okay,” Virgil agreed, seeming a bit hesitant.

Logan smiled softly and leaned forward to gently touch their foreheads together. “I will be right back,” he assured. “We will finish our slumber party, though perhaps we will table the rest of the dress up activity for another night.”

He stood then, leaving Virgil in Patton’s capable hands to exit his own bedroom and cross the hallway to his father’s. He took a brief moment to compose himself before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” his father called.

Logan opened the door to see his father sitting on one of the armchairs in his room. Despite the almost disaster that had taken place a few minutes ago, Logan found himself smiling at the man. It was nice to have him home.

“Sorry about that,” Father said.

“It was more my fault than yours. If I knew there was a risk of you coming home today, I wouldn’t have left him alone.”

“Is he alright?”

“I believe so,” Logan answered. “Patton is with him and will certainly smooth out any lingering distress.”

“Good,” his dad said. “That’s good.” There was a pause and then he gestured at the seat beside his.

Logan settled himself down on it. “How was your trip?” he asked. “You’re back a week early.”

“Yes,” Father said. “The trip went better and worse than anticipated.

“How so?” asked Logan curiously.

“Well,” Dad said. “The purpose of the trip was to convince the new queen of Lamir, Cecil not to ally with Mocnejsi, but by the time I’d arrived there wasn’t really a risk of that.”

“Why not?”

“After investigation, it turned out that Cecil’s mother had been poisoned by an assassin from Mocnejsi.”

“Oh,” Logan said, mind already racing.

“They figured out that one of the young women who had been hired on in the kitchen for the winter had done it, and had learned her origin when they questioned her,” Dad informed him. “Considering Cecil was immediately approached for an alliance with Mocnejsi, their aim was likely to manipulate her going forward because of how young she is. Luckily, Cecil is a smart girl and has the help of her mother’s advisor as well as her own. By the time I got there, my only real role was to extend my condolences and reaffirm out alliance. I would have stayed longer, but the possibility that Mocnejsi may think to attack us in a similar way hastened me home.”

“That…” Logan said. “That is wise. I assume you are going to institute more security.”

“I am, yes,” Dad replied. “I would like your input on plans in the coming day.”

“Of course,” Logan agreed.

Dad smiled at him, “But for now,” he said, “I think it’s time you get back to your slumber party and I get to finally go to sleep.”

Logan nodded and got to his feet. He leaned over to hug his father perhaps a bit longer and harder than was strictly necessary, but Dad did not seem to mind at all. “Goodnight,” Logan said.

“Goodnight, son.”

Chapter 21

Virgil woke with something soft but kind of stringy in his face. That was weird. He didn’t know what in the closet would feel like that. In fact, as he woke more he noticed more things that he couldn’t sus out the origin of, particularly the warmth curled up against his side. Curious, he blinked open his eyes. Oh, right. Patton.

The soft stuff in his face was Patton’s hair and the warmth next to Virgil was the rest of the boy’s body. Patton had all but refused to let Virgil go last night after Logan had taken off the restraints and Virgil hadn’t minded the attention. They must have fallen asleep together in the piles of pillows and blankets on the floor.

Virgil brushed his hair gently away, internally (for fear of disturbing him) shaking his head at him. He’d fallen asleep hallway on top of an assassin. He had no self-preservation instincts. He looked at his wrists. It seemed no one had any self-preservation instincts. This of course, included himself as instead of running off when free in case they decided to turn him in after all, he had fallen asleep on the floor with Patton too.

He looked to the side and saw Logan was already awake, reading on one of his chairs. He seemed to sense Virgil’s eyes on him because he looked up after a moment.

“You can get up if you like,” Logan said. “He is a heavy sleeper and won’t wake up if you squirm out of his grip.”

Virgil frowned, unsure if he wanted to risk it.

“I have breakfast ready for you.”

Okay, Virgil was going to risk it.

He carefully squirmed out of Patton’s grip, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead in apology for leaving him before getting to his feet.

Logan handed him a plate of eggs and toast when he walked over and gestured to the chair next to him. Virgil sat there to eat while Logan continued to read.

Virgil ate his food quickly, and then glanced over at Logan once he was done. Virgil was honestly at a bit of a loss. Usually, they came and got him out of the closet only once they were ready to do something, but Patton was still sound asleep on the floor and Logan looked engrossed in his book.

Virgil fidgeted slightly, unsure what he should be doing or even if he should be doing anything. Considering Logan hadn’t given him any instructions, he should probably not do anything. He didn’t want to screw up the first day of… whatever this was now.

Logan glanced over at him after a few minutes. “Don’t forget about the potion,” he reminded.

Virgil nodded and stood, walking over to the closet since it would still be in there from the previous morning. It was about half gone now and it had gotten to the point where Virgil didn’t feel any immediate affects from it anymore other than some warmth. It basically just felt like drinking tea.

He said as much to Logan when he walked back over to him.

“That’s good,” Logan said, “it means it has been working. It has healed any damage it can from malnutrition. Any internal organs that were damaged should be mostly healed. You may even notice your eyesight getting slightly better. Your immune system should also be boosted. You will likely also find it is easier to gain muscle and while you likely will never be as tall as you could have been, you will likely still grow a few inches during your next growth spirt.”

Virgil studied his hands where they were sitting on his thigh now as though he could see the changes that allegedly had already taken place in his body. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” Logan replied, eyes already back on his book like it was some normal thing and not a huge kindness he’d bestowed on Virgil before even really knowing him. As though Virgil didn’t just owe him more than just his life going forward.

They sat in silence then for a few more minutes, before the was a soft sigh from the floor and Patton started to wake. He sat up and looked around. His eyes landed on both Virgil and Logan sitting together and he seemed to light up.

“Good morning!” he chirped.

“Good morning, Patton,” Logan said as Patton popped to his feet, “I have breakfast for you.”

“Thank you Lo,” Patton said, throwing his arms around Logan’s neck, and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Virgil presumed from the lack of surprise on Logan’s face that this was normal for morning Patton, not that the fact surprised him considering how night Patton acted.

He still managed to be somewhat surprised by the fact that Patton turned to hug Virgil a second later. Patton’s lips were pressed briefly to Virgil’s head and then he turned to grab the plate Logan had saved for him.

“So, what are we doing today?” Patton asked.

“I was thinking Virgil and I could continue our reading lessons if he is not opposed,” Logan said. Virgil nodded, happy with that prospect. “Other than that, I have no plans. I have already spoken with my father before the two of you woke. He is going to spend most of his day catching up on things he missed and said I could take the rest of the day off royal duties.”

“A whole day to relax then!” Patton said, happily chewing on his toast. “Reading sounds fun, but we should do something more active too.”

Logan hummed. “We can show Virgil the courtyard after the reading lessons,” he said.

It took a moment for it to register, but then Virgil froze. “Wait,” he said. “We’re going outside?”

Logan raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes.”

“So, we’re leaving your room?”

“Are you alright with that?” Logan asked cautiously.

Virgil nodded quickly.

“Oh,” Patton said at his enthusiasm. “I guess you have been cooped up a while, haven’t you?” He smiled sadly and turned to Logan. “Maybe we can do reading lessons in the garden.”

“That would be satisfactory.”

“Great!” Patton said. He looked over at Virgil. “If we’re going out, we should probably put your hair up and get you in some clean clothes.”

Logan nodded. “You finish eating, and I will help Virgil find something to wear.”

Logan found him an outfit, though it was a bit baggy on Virgil and the hem of the shirt went halfway to his knees. When Patton finished breakfast, he sat Virgil down and carefully worked a brush through his hair.

“Can I braid it?” Patton asked.

Virgil hummed his consent. Having his hair brushed and done up by another person was a lot more enjoyable than he’d anticipated. He’d liked it when Logan did it the night before, though he had to very firmly push away thoughts of where that led.

“Okay!” Patton said after a few moments. “You look good. Ready to go?”

Virgil nodded and they both led him out into the hall. He paused before they got to the door. “What about the guards?” he asked hesitantly.

“I’ve already given them the same story as I did Dad,” Logan replied. “They know you’re here.”

Virgil still hesitated.

��It’s okay,” Patton promised. “Here, hold my hand?”

Virgil took the offered hand immediately, and Logan stepped in front of them both. Virgil felt himself relax a bit knowing the prince was between him and the guards.

They led him to the door.

Logan greeted both of the guards at the door, and they said good morning back. Both of them glanced at Virgil curiously for a moment making him shrink into himself, but they quickly averted their gazes.

Patton pulled him past them without incident and soon they were in the small dining hall Virgil had passed through his first night here. He remembered how he’d snuck around at the edges of the room in the shadows with the aim to kill the king, but now he was being pulled through the middle with the prince having just wandered past the royal guards in broad daylight like it was nothing.

It was so strange, and Virgil still couldn’t totally believe this was happening. The retraced his exact steps back down the spiral stairs near the kitchen and out of the door he and the nice gardener had came through. He could even see the shed he’d been hiding in from here. With a blink, he remembered they were going to the garden, and he wondered if he’d see the man again.

For now, he just looked around them as Logan and Patton led him past the garden shed towards an area with many trees. Orange and yellow leaves were starting to fall from many of the trees.

They made a satisfying crunching sound under his feet as he was led to a tree. He had seen the group of trees when he’d first arrived here and had even thought about hiding amongst them instead of in the shed, but they’d seemed scary in the dark. They were pretty in the daylight, however, and Virgil found himself tilting his head to watch the branches sway in the slight wind.

Logan sat down under it and pulled out a book and some writing materials from the bag he’d brought. Virgil settled down next to him so they could both look at the book at the same time and Patton flopped down on the other side, immediately setting to work tying fancy knots in the yarn he’d brought with him. Patton shuffled slightly to the side so they bumped shoulders as Logan opened the book and started Virgil’s reading lesson.

Chapter 22

Patton bit his lip to keep from laughing or awing. “Do you like the flower, Virgil?” he asked.

Virgil glanced up at him briefly and then his eyes returned to the flower he’d found. “It’s nice,” he said.

They’d finished the reading lessons and let Virgil explore the garden a bit. He’d found a dark purple and yellow flower (a pansy, Patton thought) and seemed to be endlessly fascinated by it. He’d been staring at it for minutes now, almost as though he expected it to do something. Patton did not quite understand his interest, but he was still adorable.

Logan sat next to him and the flower, smiling at him softly. “I imagine you’ll enjoy the garden in the spring,” Logan said. “There are many more flowers then. Of all types. We’ll have to show you all of the best spots. Mr. Deknis has a particularly good eye for colors, and it is always quite beautiful.”

“Who is Mr. Deknis?” Virgil asked.

“He’s the head gardener,” Logan said. “He’s a nice man, though a bit prickly when it comes to his garden. We may see him today if he’s in this part of the garden.”

“Would he have been the multrum I saw in the gardening shed when I hid there?”

“Ah, yes, that would be him. I was unaware you interacted with anyone in the castle.”

“He caught me in his garden shed, but he wasn’t mean,” Virgil said, he tilted his head curiously at Logan. “Why…” he trailed off.

“Yes?” Logan asked.

“Why is he the gardener?”

Logan looked confused, “Well,” he said, “I guess because he wants to and is good at it.”

“No,” Virgil said with a frown. “I mean. Shouldn’t he… he’s…”

Logan seemed to think hard for a moment. “Right,” he said. “You’ve been under a blood compulsion. I’d guess you would have only worked with multrums in the military.”

“I guess I didn’t realize that they could be other things…”

“Of course, they can,” Logan said. “Their abilities don’t make them any less of people. Mr. Deknis likes to garden so he gardens.”

Virgil blinked at him.

“…Of course, all things considered, that may not be a familiar concept to you.” Virgil turned back to look at the flower instead of answering. “Right,” said Logan.

There were a couple of awkward beats of silence. Patton bit his lip and happened to glance up. “Oh,” he said. “Speaking of Mr. Deknis.” He gestured to the gardener who was coming up the path between the trees.

Logan sat up on his knees as Patton waved at him. He saw Patton and turned to walk towards them. “The two of you had better not be up to mischief in my garden,” Mr. Deknis called, his voice a bit gruff. He clearly did not see Virgil who had laid flat on his stomach to stare at the flower.

Logan rolled his eyes automatically. “We were just reading Mr. Deknis,” he said. “Your piles of dirt are safe.”

“No mud cakes?” Mr. Deknis asked skeptically still coming towards them.

“It has been a literal decade…”

Patton saw when Mr. Deknis was close enough to see Virgil.

He stopped in his track and looked down at Virgil who was already watching him a bit warily. “Hello,” he said, his voice a lot softer than it’d been a few moments before. His expression completely flipped in a moment to something very gentle when he saw Virgil and the cautious look on his face. Virgil did seem to have that effect on people.

“Hi,” Virgil replied.

Mr. Deknis looked at Logan and then at Patton and then back at Virgil. “This is our new friend, Virgil,” Patton offered.

“Hello, Virgil,” Mr. Deknis said with a nod.

“Virgil, this is the gardener Mr. Deknis.”

“He’s not nearly as grumpy as he sounds,” Patton assured.

“Well,” Logan said, “yes he is.”

Mr. Deknis shot him a look that only served to prove Logan’s point if Patton was being honest. Logan just smiled back. Mr. Deknis apparently decided to let it slide because he turned back to Virgil.

“It’s good to see you again,” Mr. Deknis said. “Are you feeling better?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m a lot better,” he said. Mr. Deknis considered him for a moment, clearly reading how true that statement was. Patton was glad he seemed satisfied with the answer.

“I see you’ve met these two.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said.

Mr. Deknis smiled slightly. “Be careful with this one,” he said, pointing to Logan. “He’s a bad influence.”

Virgil frowned in confusion. “He’s the prince,” he pointed out.

“And a bad influence,” Mr. Deknis repeated. “He’s a beacon of irresponsibility and mischief and he corrupts that one,” he nodded to Patton.

“I am completely responsible,” Logan replied.

“Need I remind you of the cucumber incident.”

“I was 8,” Logan said.

“I know how old you were,” Mr. Deknis replied, “and you are hardly any older.”

“I resent that.”

Mr. Deknis just smiled and turned back to Virgil who was watching the interaction with pure curiosity.

“I just picked a few more of those apples for Patton’s mom to make into apple sauce. Would you kids like some?”

Virgil glanced over at Logan and Patton.

“That would be nice, thank you,” Patton replied for them all, standing up. Seeing that, Virgil also climbed to his feet.

“It’s back this way,” Mr. Deknis said, inclining hid head back the way he’d came and then turning to lead them that way. Patton followed him. He glanced back to see Logan put his hand on Virgil’s shoulder and give him a gentle push to get him going. “So, what are you kids up to today?”

#proofread stories #not writing

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