#just saw a really good post about irish names but it was long as balls so im not gonna rb it

[muirneach]

irish names r literally so sexy and cool and not hard to pronounce but u people are just cowards

[random-imagines-blog]

Post Red {Viktor Krum x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 3072 Summary: At a time when he should be focused on the game, Viktor Krum is distracted by you, his childhood best friend, and a blonde-haired boy who won’t stop flirting.

The Quidditch World Cup. You came just about every year, getting pretty okay seats with your best friend Viktor and his family. His parents and yours were good friends, which instantly meant that you were best friends. And with his father holding season passes to every Quidditch world cup, no matter where it was, this had become a yearly tradition. “I’m going to be on the Bulgarian team one day,” Viktor would always state as you watched the players fly. Bulgaria was always his favorite. Home country pride. It was yours too, but sometimes you liked to cheer for other times to mix things up. You would always grin and nudge him to point out something a player was doing, but not this year. This year, you were at the top of the stadium, standing next to the Minister of Magic in a special area, watching Viktor Krum play in Bulgaria versus Ireland. He was achieving his dream.

Every time that he flew past you, you jumped up and down, waving the flag of his team. He had become the star seeker of the team so quickly, it made your head spin. But you were nothing if not supportive. You used up your allowance to buy his merchandise, even though he could get it to you for free. It almost became a joke between the two of you, how you would always show up to his house wearing a sweater with his face on it, bright and smiling. You always made the joke that he was smiling on the sweater because it was the closest that he would ever get to your chest. He would make the joke in return that he was just smiling because he finally was looking at someone good looking - himself. He was actually very funny for a serious looking man.

You weren’t the only one high up in the stadium. Sharing a box with you was the Minister of Magic himself, and a man with his son. The boy was two or three years younger than you, you would assume by his size, and his hair was as silver as snow, just like his fathers. You had no interest in them. You weren’t here to make friends. You were here to support the best one that you had. But you did give a friendly hello and smile to the Minister, as it was better to have a friend in him than an enemy.

The other boy though, he wanted to have more than a friendly hello with you. He kept moving closer to the part of the box that you were occupying. He spoke to you with a very snobby voice, and though it would be considered rude and your parents would be disappointed in you, your direct reaction was to pretend that you didn’t know English.

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” He said, sticking his hand out to shake yours. “We’re here with the Minister of Magic. Are you here by yourself?”

Rather than shake his hand, because you honestly didn’t want to touch him for too long, you tapped yours against his in a high-five. “Ja, go fast!” You said, pointing at one of the Bulgarian Chasers who just flew past you.

The look on Draco’s face was worth it. But there was still a long game ahead of you. It could go on for hours. For days. Hopefully for the former though, because Viktor was a really good seeker. You had full confidence that he would get the snitch before it turned midnight.

Draco went and stood by his father for a little bit, and the two had quiet conversations. You didn’t pay him much attention. You were too busy watching the game. Even during lulls when it was just Chasers fighting over the ball in the middle of the pitch, you were intrigued. You didn’t pay attention to anything else - except for maybe making faces at Viktor when he passed by you on his way to catch what he thought was the snitch. He was darting back and forth so quickly though, it was hard to tell if he had seen you.

Since the World Cup was officially sponsored by Butterbeer, it kept being brought up to your box by people who worked for the Quidditch federation. It was enough to keep you warm as the game went into the nighttime. The skies seemed to threaten rain, but you didn’t care whether it fell or not. You were having fun, regardless of the weather.

The Irish scored the first goal. You booed, even though the others in your box seemed to be very supportive of the green team. You smiled apologetically at Fudge as he gave you an odd look, but didn’t pass a glance at the other two. However, the young boy came and stood beside you again, leaning over the box to look down at the people below in the lesser seats. He was sneering at them, like they had done something wrong by just existing there. That was worth a look to you at least. He caught your eye, and that sneer turned into a smile.

“Is this your first time at the Quidditch World Cup?” He asked. You shook your head, still feigning not knowing any English. “We come every year. But this is the first time that we’re in the Minister’s Box. So how did you get up here anyway? Who are you?”

He wasn’t letting up. You tried to look up at the players again, but the war for the Quaffle was going on in the middle of the pitch which meant there wasn’t much to look at right now. He nudged your side, so you finally answered, giving him your first and last name.

“Sounds exotic,” He said, which made you have to turn away and roll your eyes. Leave it to someone from England to think that your name was exotic, when it was commonplace where you were from. And not like he had the right to judge - what sort of name was Draco?

There was finally some action on the pitch, which took his attention from you for a little while. Unfortunately it was Ireland again, scoring the second goal of the game. Your eyes scanned the pitch to look for the familiar frame of your best friend and you saw him across the stadium. He was balanced on his broom, sitting on it in a way that made it look easy. Comfortable. You always admired how effortless he made it look to fly, while you were always hunched down, holding on with both hands until your knuckles had started to hurt. You waved at him when you thought you caught his eye and he smiled back at you. You chuckled as you heard a few girls in rows below you start to squeal because they thought that it had been at him.

“He’s overrated,” Draco muttered beside you.

“Krum?” You asked - before realizing this was very close to exposing yourself as a fraud.

“Yeah. He’s not even that good. In fact, I’m better than him. I’m the Seeker on the Slytherin Quidditch team. I got in second year, which is really rare, actually.”

You let his voice go in one ear and then out the other. This boy seemed to like to talk about himself an awful lot.

Ireland scored a third goal, and you groaned loudly, cutting off Draco in the middle of a sentence. “Oh, are you cold?” He asked.

Either he didn’t notice that you were shaking your head, or he didn’t care. He moved in closer to you and tried to put his arm around your shoulders. In your discomfort, you took a few hasty steps away, and ended up bumping into the Minister himself, stepping on his robes which almost pulled him down.

“I’m so sorry,” You said in horror as you realized what you had just done. You helped him to upright himself, and he gave you a wary look, like he should have expected this.

“It’s quite alright,” He said, but he did wander to the other side of the box, far away from you. You watched, feeling a bit bashful about what just had happened. At least, until there was a cheer from the fans. Ireland scored yet another goal. You sighed, and put your gaze back on the game. Viktor had moved since you had last seen him, and you began to scan for him once more, only for him to pop up not too far from you.

“I knew you spoke English,” Draco said from next to you. You almost forgot about the little twerp, but here he was, making himself known again. You never met anyone so infuriating before. He just couldn’t pick up a hint. “Come on, talk to me. Do you go to Hogwarts? I felt like I would have seen you there.”

“I don’t go to Hogwarts,” You stated. “You have not seen me before. And after this, we shall not meet again. Please, leave me alone.”

“I’ll be telling my father about your rudeness,” He said, finally turning away from you. You let out a sigh of relief. Maybe you could finally get into the game.

There had been a few close calls of Ireland getting the snitch. They were winning by quite a lot, and you could feel Viktor’s frustration from where you were standing. He kept looking at you, and you didn’t have much to offer him except for crossing your fingers.

“I think you should come to have dinner with us after the game,” Draco said, strolling back over to you after a while.

“The game could go on for hours, or even days,” You said, clenching the fence in front of you. You had never felt the urge to punch someone before but it was growing slowly and steadily. Something about his ferret like face.

“Well, we’re taking a break soon. We brought our new house elf. It’s an alright cook, it’ll do for the occasion. And you’re going to join us, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine here, thank you,” You said, scoffing at the idea of a break. You had no intention of leaving the game until it was over, even if that meant starving or peeing yourself. You were dedicated to stick it out for Viktor, at the very least.

He was flying not too far, eyes peeled for the stitch. But he looked at you. He was able to smile once more, but a hand grabbed yours and pulled you away from the fence. In your astonishment, you had let go. “Come on, we’re going to have something to eat.”

There was a sound of awe from the crowd at the exact same time that something went soaring by your head. You just barely managed to duck before it turned around and came back. A bludger. But how in the hell did it-

It went returning the way that it had come from, flying across the pitch. That was when you saw Viktor again, a little closer to you this time, holding a beater’s bat. He tossed it back to the beater, who went soaring after the bludger, while Viktor looked over at you. You put your hands over your heart as a thank you. He had always been a little overprotective of you, but right now, you were grateful for it. You were able to snap your hand away from Draco’s grasp, who was still ducking from the bludger attack. “I said I’m fine here. And if you, or your father, have a problem with that, you can shove it up your rear!” You shouted. The Minister overheard this part of the conversation and let out a little ‘oh my’ in surprise.

You didn’t even care. Enough was enough. If he grabbed you again, you would be telling everyone that you were being assaulted, and put him on full blast. Though he looked rather shaky after the encounter with the bludger, so you had the feeling he wouldn’t actually be bothering you again. You returned back to the fence so you could overlook the pitch again, and wrapped your hands around it so no one would be able to drag you back again.

-

The game finished with Bulgaria’s loss. You were disappointed, but it wasn’t Viktor’s fault. He still managed to catch the snitch, so he had done his job. It was the Keeper that you were disappointed with, and you would be bringing that up to him later.

You descended the endless flights of stairs, blending in with the crowd after the game - many were celebrating but there were quite a few who looked the same as you felt. Damn Ireland, you were thinking to yourself. And damn the Bulgarian Keeper! He hadn’t been able to do his job properly. Even Viktor would have done a better job, and it was his least favorite position!

You managed to veer away from the crowd to go to your own little campsite. Much like the others around yours, the tent was much bigger and roomier on the inside than it appeared on the outside, thanks to a little magic. You marched on through the flaps to go inside, and change out of your clothes. It had been a long game, and you had definitely sweated at least a little bit. You wanted to be much more presentable when Viktor would come along and join you.

The flap came open once more, and Viktor strolled in, just as you were fastening the button on your bottoms. He had perfect timing - now at least, maybe not so during the game. His jaw was clenched, you noticed, and he looked very angry. He’d lost games before, but still reveled in the fact that he had been playing. This was not a mood that just came from the game.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, watching as he walked past you to the armchair that was in front of the budding fire. Thank heavens for magic - a fire and a tent would never have worked otherwise.

“That boy who was touching you-” He said, sinking into the chair, and spit directly into the fire with disgust. “What’s his name?”

“Oh, we don’t need to worry about him, Vik. I think you scared him enough with the bludger. He wouldn’t even come close to me after that. Turned white as a sheet,” You chuckled at the memory, but his anger seemed to rage on.

“No, tell me his name.” Viktor demanded. You sighed, and walked to where he was sitting. The chair wasn’t big enough for the both of you, but it had rather wide arms and you planted yourself right there. You leaned your head against the top of his, the bristly growth of his hair tickling your forehead. “Y/N...”

“He was a stupid, petulant child who I am never going to lay eyes on again, Viktor Krum. Why did it make you so mad?”

“No one should be touching you. No one should be dragging you...” He said, moodily. He was staring into the fire, not at you at all.

“Tell you what. I’ll let you know his name after you calm down, how about that?” You suggested. It would take some time - he had a temper like a bonfire that would just keep on burning until the morning.

“Fine,” He grumbled. He said nothing more, and the two of you sat in silence, staring at the fire as it crackled, and listening to some of the cheers from outside. People were still celebrating the Irish win out there, and it gave everything a joyous atmosphere. “I’m not angry anymore.” He said after a few more minutes.

You pulled away from him, and took a look at his eyes to see if he really was in a post-red mood. He still looked grumpy but the worst of it seemed to be over. “His name was Draco Malfoy. His father is friends with the Minister, which is why I didn’t do much about it myself. You took good care of me, Vik. Just be happy that it ended the way that it did and we could move on with our lives.”

“If I see him again, I’m punching him,” Viktor grumbled. You shrugged, alright with that since the likelihood of it seemed so low.

“That is a price that he will have to pay then,” You smiled, moving back towards him and fell into his lap. Before you could try to get up, his arms went around your waist and started to tickle you in the way that he knew you hated. Fingers digging into your skin, it was a horrible feeling but the closeness that it brought wasn’t entirely terrible. “Vik - come on, stop...”

“I like it when you call me that,” He said, finally letting a smile come across his usual gruff features. You smiled in return, and lightly ran your fingers across his sculpted jawline, feeling the bone beneath his skin. His breathing hitched, and he held you closer, tighter.

You grew closer, until you could feel the heat of his breath on your lips. Viktor was so close - and you hadn’t realized until this moment that this was something that you wanted. You had always been friends, and your parents had teased since the beginning that they were planning your wedding to each other. But this was the first time that you had seen what they had been seeing.

Screams came from outside, and they were far from being the joyous kind. There was serious fear in the female voice that you had heard. And then came others. More and more screaming. The tent seemed to move as people were rushing past it. You could just see it through the crack between the flaps which acted as doors.

“Stay with me,” Viktor said, getting up immediately. You agreed to this without question, and when he offered you his hand, you took it. Whatever danger was out there, you were certain that you could face it together.

[fruitcoops]

SIRIUS/REMUS PLAYING WITH PUPPIES WHILE ANSWERING FANS QUESTIONS

Please know that if we ever met in person, I would literally lift you off your feet and hug you for suggesting this. My afternoon was filled with adorable puppy videos because of this!

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Can I have them?” Remus asked softly, staring at the person behind the camera with big, pleading eyes. “Please?”

“Do the introduction and then we’ll set ‘em loose,” Marlene said.

“Fine. Hey, everyone, welcome back to Lion Pride! I’m Remus Lupin and I’m here today to play with puppies.”

“And answer questions.”

“And answer questions,” he added. “Maybe, like, one or two in between snuggles.”

“You’re going to answer all of them,” Marlene said more firmly.

He rolled his eyes and took the lid off the jar of paper slips. “Can I have the puppies now?”

A door clicked open behind the camera and Remus lit up as four puppies tumbled into frame, racing straight for him. “Hello, babies!” he laughed as a tiny golden retriever jumped on his chest. “Oh, I love you so much. Come here, come here, let me give you kisses.”

“Question number one?” Marlene prompted as he began playing with them and rolling their toys around.

Remus sighed and pulled a question out. “What would I be doing if I didn’t become a hockey player? Physical therapy for su—ope, okay, you can have that one.”

The Irish Setter puppy growled playfully as they played a short game of tug-of-war until the paper tore.

“Oh no, it broke!” Remus exclaimed, giving the pup a scratch behind the ears while it chewed on the leftover scraps. “Yes, that’s all yours now. Next one: what is the best part about playing professional hockey? I get to do interviews like this.” One of the puppies, a medium-sized black one, began chewing on one of the laces of his Converse. “Excuse me—excuse me, young man, that’s my shoelace. Are you chewing it because it’s rainbow? Is this homophobia?”

“Remus.”

“Sorry.” He lifted the puppy into his arms and kissed his head. “Okay, munchkin, what’s next? What’s next? You’re so fucking cute, I just wanna squish you. Um, what’s the most common thing fans say when they meet me?” He laughed and the puppy licked his cheek. “Usually they look at me and go, ‘god, you’re tall’, which surprises people because I’m always around these gigantic guys. Do these dogs have names?”

“If I tell you their names, you’re going to get attached.”

“We have crossed, salted, and burned that bridge, Marley.”

“The one you’re holding is Mercutio, the red one is Juliet, the retriever is Pip, and the fluffy one on your lap is Lucie, after Lucie Manette.”

Remus’ jaw went slack. “They’re named after book characters?” he asked in a small voice.

“Yep.”

“Oh, no.” He reached out and pulled Juliet and Pip into his arms for a moment. “Oh, no, you all have to come home with me now. The next question is…would I ever do drag? Probably not, but I looked hot as fuck in eyeliner, so do with that what you will.”

“Which video was that?”

“It was the fear pong one, which I played with my fiancé and my friends James and Lily!” His voice pitched up as he turned to talk to Mercutio. “I did, buddy! It was so fun! Yes, it was!”

“Remus. Questions.”

“Right. What’s one of my weirdest or funniest fan encounters? There was this one lady, she was like forty-something, and she came up to me while I was at the post office and asks ‘are you Remus Lupin?’ and I said, ‘yes, that’s me’ and she’s like ‘from the Gryffindor Lions?’ and I said yes again and then she went—” He narrowed his eyes and nodded his head slowly. “—‘I knew you were gay. Good for you, kiddo’ and then left. It was the weirdest fucking thing, especially considering I had played, like, one game with the team by that point.”

“Are you serious?” Marlene asked.

“Totally honest. I never saw her again, either.” Juliet put her paws on the front of his Lions hoodie and began licking the edge of his jaw. “Hey, sweet girl, thank you for the kisses. Can I grab another question? No? Okay, we can stay here.”

Pip began yipping and Mercutio wiggled out of Remus’ hold, launching himself at the other dog with a tiny growl.

“Mercutio, no!” Remus gasped, scooting Juliet aside so he could put the two puppies under his arms. His hands were big enough to almost cover their whole bellies. “We’re not here to start fights, you two. Apologize.” They turned their heads to lick his cheeks. “I didn’t mean apologize to me, but okay. You’re so soft and warm, what the hell?”

“Next question?”

“What’s the craziest rumor I’ve heard about myself? A solid group of people thought I asked to be on the team, which isn’t true. I didn’t even know people were considering it until James and Lily’s wedding. Coach wanted it to be a surprise while he cleared it with the organization.” Remus shook his head and slowly petted Lucie as she napped on his thigh. “Is there a celebrity I’ve met that left me starstruck? Ha! Yes. There was a fundraiser a few months ago and Sam Neill was there, which I didn’t know until I turned around and he was about two feet away.”

“What did you do?”

Remus laughed and turned faintly pink. “Um, I made a sort of squeaking noise and he kinda chuckled, which was mortifying in and of itself. He goes, ‘hi, I’m Sam’ and I nodded because duh, he’s Sam fucking Neill, and then I mumbled something about Jurassic Park and he smiled and said, ‘son, you’re blocking the water’ and I just about died on the spot.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Sirius was standing next to me the entire time and silently laughing his ass off. I saw them talking later, and when were about to drive home he hands me this napkin and it has Sam Neill’s autograph on it.”

“He didn’t,” Marlene gasped.

Remus nodded. “He did.”

“That’s the smoothest move I’ve ever heard of.”

“It was incredible.” Juliet waddled closer and nudged a red ball out from under Remus’ knee, which he picked up and tossed before taking out another question. “Do I appreciate when fans come up to me in public or is it annoying? Oh, it’s never annoying. It’s a little weird if I’m eating lunch somewhere or running errands and someone tries to sneak a picture, though. I love all the fans and it’s super fun talking to everyone, so please just come over and say hello instead of failing to be sneaky while I’ve got pizza grease on my face.”

“Even if you’re on a date?”

Remus snorted. “Okay, well, use some common sense. Pip—babycakes, stop trying to eat the questions. There we go.” He settled the puppy into his lap and rolled the ball for Juliet again. “In a movie about my life, who would I want to play me and Sirius?” He paused and looked at the camera. “I would want us to play ourselves, but only because neither of us can act and it would be so fucking funny to make the absolute worst movie.”

“Come on,” Marlene groaned.

“I’m being a hundred percent honest right now! I think it would be hilarious. We’d be terrible.” Juliet pawed at his arm insistently until he grabbed the ball, but she wouldn’t let it go and they ended up playing tug-of-war despite the fact that she had no traction on the floor and kept sliding around. “Aren’t you a feisty one, sweet girl! What is the most memorable moment of my life that I want to cherish forever? This. Right here, right now.”

“Really?”

“I have two dogs on my lap, one under my arm, and the other slobbering all over my hand. This is the best possible place to be. Wait, hang on a second.” Remus carefully lifted Lucie up and laid down, settling her on his abdomen as the other three clambered over to flop on him. “Oh, yeah, this is the peak of my entire life.”

“You’re not going to say your engagement? Maybe the day you started playing for the Lions?”

“Nope. The engagement was incredible and one of my favorite memories for sure, but I was shaking in my skates.”

“Just read the next question.”

“Okay! What’s my go-to karaoke song?” He hummed for a moment, then laughed as Lucie scooted up to rest her head under his chin. “I think it’s probably ‘I Wanna Dance with Somebody’ by Whitney Houston. Lily and I did a duet of that a year or so ago, and it rocked.”

Pip began gnawing on the cuff of his sweatshirt. “Pip,” Marlene scolded; her foot appeared in frame until Remus waved her off with a smile.

“It’s okay, he can chew if he wants to. It’s an old sweater anyway, and it’s not even mine!” He scratched behind Pip’s ears. “No, it’s not, peach-a-keen! You can go nuts with that as long as you’re cozy. What is…my favorite behind-the-scenes Lions moment? Our groupchat, no contest.”

“Does it have the whole team?”

“Most of us, yeah. You have to earn your spot.” Remus looked over at the camera and Lucie put her head on his neck. “Looks like I’ve been banned from turning my head now, huh?”

“Are you comfortable?”

“Marley, there are very few things that would make me happier than I am right now. I’m being slowly crushed by puppies and I get to cuddle them for free.” He reached blindly into the question jar. “This is a two-part question. Do I prefer big dogs or small dogs, and how is Hattie doing? I love all dogs, but I think I prefer big ones because they’re always so much fun, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to break them if I move wrong. Hattie’s doing well! She’s almost eighty pounds and she’s at home with Sirius right now, probably getting snuggled within an inch of her fuzzy little life.”

“That’s the dream right there.”

“Tell me about it. Alright, sorry ladies and gents, but I have to sit up to get to the questions.” All four puppies made noises of protest when he started sitting up and he sighed, eyebrows pitching upward. “I know, I know, it’s really hard. Here, how about we…” Remus carefully gathered them until he held all four against his chest; their tiny faces looked out over his forearms and he placed a kiss on each of their heads. “Much better.”

“Can you get to the jar?”

It took a bit of maneuvering, but he managed to reach in. “Do you want to read it?” he asked Mercutio as the puppy tried to bite the slip. “No? Okay. What is my favorite thing about playing on the same team as my fiancé? That is an excellent question. My favorite thing is that we finally have the same schedule, so we can build in time to hang out more easily. It was hard to do that when we were doing different things.”

Pip yawned and the entire camera crew ‘awww’ed; Remus made a soft noise and nuzzled his floppy ear.

“I adore you,” he murmured. “I really do. Last question: What is my advice to those who want to follow their dreams? Oh, jeez.”

“You can take a minute to think.”

Remus crossed his legs and lifted his knees up so he could hug all the puppies at once while still looking at the camera. “The only reason I got big and strong is so that I can hold four puppies at once. Just thought people should know that. Uh, my advice to those who want to follow their dreams is to persevere. I never in a million years thought that I would get to play on a professional hockey team, but I worked really hard to overcome my injury and stay connected to the sport because I love it. If there’s something you love, don’t be afraid to hold on to it.”

“Wise words,” Marlene remarked. “Do you want to tell the fans where they can find the puppies?”

“At my house,” Remus joked. “But if that doesn’t work, they are up for adoption at Friendly Paws Animal Shelter, which is just south of downtown Gryffindor and has tons of adorable friends like these guys. Can I call Sirius real quick?”

“Sure,” Marlene laughed.

Remus gingerly lowered Lucie into his lap and pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing a quick number before putting it on speakerphone and setting it down to pick her up again. “Re?” Sirius sounded confused. “Aren’t you still with Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“…did something happen?”

“Nope, all good. Can we get another dog?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line. “Marlene, what did you do?”

“It’s just an interview!” she called.

“What kind of interview?”

“Baby, they gave me puppies,” Remus said gleefully, burying his face in Lucie’s fluff for a moment. “Like, really good puppies.”

A long-suffering sigh came through the phone. “How many are you holding?” Remus hesitated. “Sweetheart, how many dogs are currently in your arms?”

“Four.”

“Holy shit, Marlene! You gave him four dogs?!”

“They named them, too,” Remus added. “Pip, Juliet, Lucie Manette, and Mercutio. Baby, they named him Mercutio.”

“This was a recipe for disaster.” Despite his protests, Sirius sounded intrigued. “How old are they?”

Remus glanced up at Marlene. “They’re all six to eight months old,” she said.

Sirius blew out a slow breath. “So they’re babies.”

“They’re all up for adoption.”

“We have Hattie already.” Sirius was wavering. “But…she might possibly need a friend. Maybe.”

“You already love these dogs and you haven’t even seen them,” Remus said with a grin.

“The names are perfect! What was I supposed to do?”

“I’m going to sign the video off and then call you back, okay?”

“Okay. Don’t let go of the dogs until I get there, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Love you!”

“Love you, too.”

Once the call ended, Remus faced the camera with a smile. Juliet and Pip had already fallen asleep. “Thanks for tuning in, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe for more content. Endless thanks to Marlene McKinnon for allowing me to spend an hour holding tiny dogs. Have a great day!”

[angeli-marco-writes]

∘◦ ♥ ◦∘ Peter Parker - Everything Happens for a Reason ∘◦ ♥ ◦∘

A/N - I only wrote it a couple of months ago and due to the close nature of it, I haven’t uploaded it anywhere. I hope you like my first (10k) Peter Parker fic. I know that the timeline doesn’t make sense, but in all honesty, Endgame and FFH messed it up plenty so I just kinda placed this in no-mans-time. And I know the compound was destroyed during Endgame, so just bear with the fact that I’ve made it so that Strange and his wizards rebuilt it for survivors :)

Warnings - making out and shadows to sex, SWEARING, bad parenting, mentions of grief, mentions of injury and disability, angst, death of parents etc. Also, don’t read if you haven’t seen endgame because it’ll be spoiled in the first paragraph of this. 

Summary - Stark!reader x Peter Parker, post endgame. Months after the death of your father, your aunt, and the retirement of your uncle, you find yourself in a sticky situation, and to make it even worse, your childhood crush doesn’t even recognise you now. Then again, doing most of your growing up while half of the population is dead doesn’t exactly bode well for your love life nor your commitment issues. When things finally start to turn around while learning to live with a disability, will you still be taken away to live with your step-mother, or will love pan out at last? After all, everything happens for a reason. 

IT'S BEEN JUST OVER THREE MONTHS since the final battle, and therefore just over three months since you said goodbye to the only three role models you had for the most important five years of your life. Well, the three are debatable. 

Your dad had died, still holding your hand, after saving humanity like he always did, allowing the burden of the Stark name to fall onto you at long last. Your uncle Steve - tutor extraordinaire - had officially retired and moved away, and you haven’t seen him since the final goodbye, leaving you more and more doubtful every day you’ll ever see him again. And your aunty Nat let herself go, she pushed herself away from that cliff, and let uncle Clint live, to help give you a better life, but what Nat didn’t realise was that you lost them both that day, because Clint hasn’t been back since. He’s never coming back now from the trauma, the man who was more of a father than your dad ever was.

It was quite possibly the worst period of your whole life, but then again, when half of the world is destroyed before you’ve even hit puberty, you don’t really have much to hold it against.

But here you are again, stuck in your room in the semi-rebuilt compound, grounded by FRIDAY while the step monster and child are at the lake house, living happily ever after. What the issue is, you don’t know. All you did was get a piercing... and be rude to Peter. And Sam. And everyone in the building- ok maybe she has a point, but hey, you’re grieving the loss of everyone major in your life, and you can barely do anything for yourself.

It’s like five years ago all over again. Everyone you’d grown accustomed to, your friends, your mom, your idols - even if they weren’t dead, they were lost for a long time - and your crush. The one and only Peter Parker. Much to your surprise, you got over most of the deaths pretty quickly. There wasn’t much to understand - they were gone and they wouldn’t come back no matter what, so what good would worrying and crying do? Obviously, as a young girl, this was the wrong response, so this is when Pepper got her name. “Don’t be so insensitive! Those were your dad's best friends, people he worked with for years. Those people were his family, and mine, and yours.”

You scoffed at her, the way you always seemed to do. “Yeah, ok. But my mum died, and am I making a fuss? No. She died for a reason, they all did,” and under your breath, you added “I still just need to figure that reason out.”

You held back from the obvious “they were my family too” bullshit, because your dad never believed that, even when you spent most of your time at his house with the Avengers instead of him. It wasn’t that you hated your mom or your dad, you loved them both equally and spent time with them both, but when one dies and one goes missing and spirals into lord knows what after going missing in space with a blue alienoid, everything gets a little complicated and stops making sense. Spending more time with your dad was scary too, seeing the intricacies of Avengers life in a capacity which you didn’t understand for a long time growing up. That only lasted for a year before he took off and made you be a tennis ball in a flawed game between him and Rhodey. Every weekend for five years you drove from the compound to the lake house. You lost out on a lot from that, and your dad didn’t even seem phased, because he had Morgan. 

But beneath all of the hatred that had made you so rebellious since you turned fifteen, there was something deeper.

Considering how stone faced and resolute you are and always have been, considering how harsh you are about the realities and never getting caught up in mindless emotions, no matter how much you claim that your grieving time was over the second that you pushed your dad's heart away, mere weeks after feeling his pulse drop as you laced your fingers with his, no one would believe that it was all a lie.

Every night since that snap more than five years ago, you’ve done the same thing. Make a cup of hot chocolate (an iced decaf latte if it was summer), and you’d take it to bed and just cry until you could no more and simply fell asleep. You weren’t even sure why you cried, because after all there wasn’t really any reason to. The world was moving on, albeit slower than before, and your life  was about as much locked into place as it could be with Tony Stark as your father, but the crying just felt obligatory. After ten, FRIDAY always turned off in your room, that was the agreement your mom had with your dad whenever you stayed there, although you weren’t sure why it made a difference, and it just stuck, so no one saw the pointless tears, no one heard, and no one cared. The only one who ever did care enough whenever you cried had been snapped away, and now he was back, you were just another repugnant face in the crowds, or so you’d guess with the way he looked down upon you.

 “It’s ok dad,” you said with a completely straight face, your hard eyes locked onto his, your entire being completely void of emotion, “you can go to sleep.”

He squeezed your hand with his forefinger and middle finger, very lightly, and he just croaked out his final words to you, “my beautiful Sloane, so brave.” So quiet that they were only decipherable to you.

“Life functions critical,” the Irish accent rang in your ears.

Pete had already said his goodbyes, but now it was Pepper’s turn as she wiped your dad's tears away. This time you should’ve been there for each other, a support for one another, after all, they were losing him together and were in the same boat, but sometimes even grief can’t bring people together. 

“Tony, look at me. We’re going to be ok..” she pleaded. 

Your dad's eyes moved from yours to hers, a sluggish movement that took the remaining life from him. He moved his lips to form two words that broke your heart, because you knew that they were directed at all of you, and they meant so much more than anyone else could understand. Those words were his attempt at making up for being such a shit dad. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Pepper kissed him. “You can rest now.”

You didn’t even look around to see anyone else’s face , especially not Peters or Peppers, because as soon as his pulse stopped and his skin slipped from your grip, his body cold, you knew that the chapter of your life with your father in it was over, so you pulled your mask back over your face, and strutted away, as far as possible. You ignored your limp completely, because with all of the numbness, it was like you couldn’t even feel the pain. Except you didn’t disappear, no way, you couldn’t. You watched as they all knelt for him, for the man who missed all of your firsts in life, who was absent when you needed a father and a friend and a leader, and even though you were chronically broken within, every terrible emotion gnawing at you, screaming at you to just feel something and express it; you didn’t. You suppressed it all, and walked away. And of no surprise to you at all, no one followed, or even noticed you were gone.

After all, Tony Stark died for a reason, and at least this time you knew what that reason was. 

 “Miss?” Someone’s snapping their fingers beside your ear, driving you mental but also snapping you awake from whatever dream that was, reliving the scariest day of your life. “Miss, you fell asleep at the table. We’re clearing it for dinner, please.”

You roll your eyes up at him, instantly recognising Pete’s voice, but you just don’t care. He doesn’t even know who you are. So you scoff, the way you did at Pepper so long ago, and you leave without a second glance.

“Are you a relative of Nat’s? I- I heard someone was coming over to stay...” his voice yells down the corridor.

“You can’t be serious Peter. You don’t recognise me at all?”

And with that, you snatch your water bottle from the edge of the counter with your spare hand and resolutely stamp off down the corridor, your feet loosely wading in your docs with your crutch assisting you along the way.

You’re leaving soon, so you won’t have to deal with him. But you still have another year or two of high school to compete with, and with your tutor gone - your dad refused to send you back to school after the snap, so it was left up to whoever wanted the job, and Cap wanted it a lot more than he did, so you spent your weeks driving from the city to the lake house after finishing the weeks tutoring, to spend time with your ‘family’ - and now, you seriously doubted that anyone else would want the job. Bucky is too hormonal and grieving the loss of his best friend, Banner is freaking you out, Clint is off the grid from another breakdown and it’s like he’s not even human anymore, Wilson is too busy with his new training regime and fighting Buck, and Scott doesn’t know the first thing about what you need to learn thanks to his ditsy persona. Which only leaves Pepper and Rhodey, and which forces you to go back and live in the lake house, away from the shambles of the rebuilt compound, all thanks to Strange and his wizards.

Maybe this is what you need, because now you don’t have to see Pete and get offended every single time he forgets your name and doesn’t have a clue who you are.

That night, you skipped your crying routine, and felt no better nor worse off for doing so. You simply dosed up on your painkillers and drifted off to sleep, filled with irritation and dreams of a mousey hero.

 For the next couple of days, you’d just gone about your business and avoided the funny looks from all of the other Avengers at your foul demeanour. None of them that were in and out of the rebuilt compound ever really took notice of you anymore, and you weren’t sure that any of them recognised you anymore, not with all of the piercings and hair dye and the crutches. After all, the last time most of them knew you, you were an annoying child who watched them work and ate dinners with them, and your dinners consisted of smiley face waffles and chicken nuggets. And besides, you were perfectly able back then, and you often had little friends over, or your mom would pop in to say hi on your way home. There’s no chance of that happening anymore. Bucky had recognised you, smiled at you, and occasionally made jokes about you being crippled together, so with any issues you could just turn to him, but this Peter thing annoyed you too much to talk about it, and you didn’t know why. 

Speak of the devil-

“Hey, can I sit?” He asks, standing just behind the sofa and hovering awkwardly.

“I don’t care,” you say, all of your words merging and slurring. You signal to the seat beside you yet far enough away for him not to be a bother, and he takes it.

“So h-how are you?” 

You watch him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye, because you can just feel his eyes on you, namely on your tits that had suddenly appeared in the last few years. 

“I’m fine thank you, Peter. It’s not like no one knows who the fuck I am and I’m living in a literal post war, dystopian, apocalyptic world all alone. How are you, Spider-Man?”

He blanches before your eyes, and you can physically see any words die in the back of his throat.

“I-I’m good.”

Everything stills for a little while, and the only sounds are what's playing on TV and Peter’s occasional swallows, making his Adams apple Bob in your peripheral view. He doesn’t dare look at you, and you can just sense his agitation, mainly from the way he fidgets and weighs the sofa cushions down weirdly with his weird spider legs. 

It only takes half an hour for you to wear down and ask him the burning question, his presence beside you enough to make your skin tingle in anticipation and anger bubble within, not to mention the girlish sense that overwhelms you, so contrasting to your dark clothes and self-given bridge piercing. 

“Why don’t you speak to me anymore, Peter? Do you seriously not recognise me?”

His eyes fall and his face turns sallow, and he stammers over a few consonants, unable to form any real words.

“I’m Tony’s daughter.” You announce, facing him head on. “Y/N Stark.”

Only after you’ve said that do you realise that he’ll have absolutely no clue what you’re saying, but you can see the cogs whirring in his head as everything is pieced together. His eyes lock onto yours, and they’re the one feature you haven’t changed about yourself in the years that he was gone.

“I changed my name last year, I used to be-”

“-Sloane Stark.” he finishes with you. 

He doesn’t take his eyes off yours, too lost in them after he’s been without them for so long. Something’s clicked inside, but scepticism overtakes him. You grasp your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the base of your neck, all the loose ringlets in different shades tickling your neck, but it reveals a thin, pale, bumpy scar on your skin; a thin and jagged line that runs from the base of your ear to the start of your clavicle. You’ve had it since you were 11, when Peter first became a regular at the compound and you began to play together, but then an accident happened, and Peter stayed by your side as you got the stitches, holding your hand. 

Finally, he cottons on, and you can see the tears welling up in his chocolate brown orbs.

“Sloane…”

He virtually leaps from his seat and throws his arms around you, completely overcome with all kinds of inexplicable feelings. Love seeps from his body into yours, he clings to you, and even buries his nose into your hair, taking a deep inhalation before sighing in contentment. Even when the average hug time has passed, he doesn’t release you, and keeps his arms wrapped like a koala around your shoulders, his body slowly getting closer and closer towards you and for some reason making you blush. Your arms remain limp around him, and your forefinger traces figures on his lower back, but you don’t squeeze him as much as you did when the surprise of his cuddle attack first hit you. 

He eases himself away, but still keeps his hand on your arm, a gentle and warm presence. 

It doesn’t hit you for a while that it’s the first hug you’ve received in months, and the first one from Peter in five and a half years.

“I’m guessing that you didn’t snap away like the rest of us then…?” he asks shyly. 

His spare hand immediately retracts and rubs the back of his neck anxiously, just the way he used to, but only now do you understand why.

“Nah, I didn’t,” you say, “Sadly I was stuck here in this shambles of an earth, dealing with everyone else's depression and having a little sister forced upon me. I couldn’t even go to school, it was awful.”

His face falls into a deep frown and he searches your face for any sign of your words being cynical, but he finds nothing.

“W-why did you change your name then?”

You shrug, for what feels like the hundredth time in his presence, “Sloane is an awful name, it means ‘raider’ in bloody Irish. None of my family is Irish, my dad suggested the name when he was drunk, and my mum couldn’t think of anything better. Y/N makes me feel like me.”

He nods understandingly and doesn’t push the matter, so you offer a half smile and move your attention back to the TV.

“Why did you change you?” he asks all of a sudden.

The question instantly ingrains itself into your brain, and makes your heart ache. Why would he ask such a thing? Doesn’t he understand what's happened? Why does he even care? But the last thought makes you sick to your stomach, because you know that he always has cared and he always will, he promised you that the first time he was babysitting you and you got all het up over something on the TV. Maybe a part of him knew that it was you all along but he just couldn’t broach the subject, or maybe he didn’t and he thought you’d been snapped away and you simply hadn’t returned. No matter what it was,you knew that you couldn’t blame him, but as his question bounced around your brain and repeated, you had no idea what happened, but you felt any compassion shrivel up, your heart grew cold, your demeanour turned harsh, and your kind response died in your throat. You look him dead in the face and straighten yourself up, your eyes devoid of all feeling.

“My mom died, all of my idols and my family and school friends died - Scott, Buck, Sam, you - and my dad was never the same again. I was left with him and the step monster who, who for the record doesn't even like me because of my mom, and Morgan came along, so they forgot about me, and I only stayed three days a week because the rest of the time I was stuck here with a depressed Nat and  counsellor Steve, and the latter had to teach me everything I needed for the finish of middle school and my freshman and sophomore years, which was hard in itself. Dad was so depressed, he wouldn’t listen to the words I said about the other Avengers, so apart from Steve tutoring me, I basically raised myself for two years, without friends or anything, and they were two of the most important years of my life . Everyone forgot about me. I was just turned fifteen and more adept at coping in this world than any adult I’ve known. I hated my name and what came with it, and I never really liked myself, that's always been the case. I hated my appearance and I had no one to make me feel nice when you died, because you always told me that I was pretty, just like a princess, and you kept me sane. Fuck, Pete, you held me together, and all of that faded when you died, because as soon as you were gone, everything else around me crumbled.” You inhale a sharp intake of breath, and move to stand, snatching your crutches from the floor. “Long story short, while all of you were gone, I grew up. I’m 17 now, I may be different to how you remember but at least I feel comfortable now. I really did grow up peter, and you need to start doing the same. My dad is never coming back.”

And just like the days before, you scurry off back to your room and bury any inhibitions beneath your pillow, leaving Peter in the living room, completely crushed and left to mull your words over alone while he waits for May to get home.

 Five days later, and you can’t take the silence anymore. Peter practically hides and runs for shelter each time he hears you approach, you saw the footage on FRIDAY’s cams. It really upset you for the first two days, but with each shy, rushed smile and fleeting glance he takes at you, each one that makes your stomach do little flips, they just remind you how cruel you were to him, how brutally honest, when Peter needs more time to heal than you do most likely, as your dad meant more to Pete than he did to you, and if anything then that's a reflection on Tony. He wanted a son. Maybe Peter feels guilty, mabe he’s sad, maybe he just straight up doesn’t like you, but whatever it is, you don’t fucking like it, so you’re preparing for the move in two days time. Far earlier than planned. 

With each piece of clothing you fold, with each piece of metal shrapnel you toss into your jewellery box, with each eyeliner you tuck away in a bag, you run everything that's happened in the past week through your head. You called Scott up to see how he’s getting on with Hope and Cassie, you spoke to Laura - no longer a secret - who just told you that Barton is in almost as bad a place as before, just without the machetes and with a lot more crying and whiskey, you spoke to Rhodey for an update on the lake house/new home situation and put all of the plans in place, but you did shut down his heartfelt offer to be another father figure, starting with a controversial suggestion to send you to therapy or rehab for your ‘lashing outs’, and you’d made amends with Sam who was surprisingly okay with your whole new thing going on, and he said he loved your vibe and gave hair dye suggestions, making you rethink your decision to leave all over again. Bucky had taken you shopping, hoping for retail to cure both of your depressive episodes, but it didn't really help even if the long, deep conversation over milkshakes at a nearby diner did help, and he cradled your head in his lap as you told him you’d miss him more than the others. He told you that you were being stupid about Peter and that the kid really likes you, but you retorted with a scoff, saying he’d never fancy you the way you fancy him.

Ah, yeah, that revelation, the one which makes you throw a sweater full force into your open trunk, sitting at the base of your bed. With a loud groan, you throw yourself dramatically down onto the bed and savour the soft comforter for one of the last times; after all, the place will probably be gone, along with the remnants of FRIDAY by the time you return, if you ever go. 

“Where are you off to?” Peter asks from the doorway, his voice inquisitive and startling you from your angered daze. 

He must’ve seen your bags half packed in your room, lying out on your bed beside you. You turn your head to look at him, your eyes thin and bullet-like.

“I’m leaving.” You snap rather viciously, and prop yourself up on your elbows. “The Cap’n has gone, and I’ve been out of school too long to go back. The Step-Monster needs to ‘tutor me’, and I need to teach the little brat.” You’re referring to Morgan, but Peter doesn’t seem to pick that up by the looks of his furrowed brows. He certainly looks relaxed though, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Why can’t you stay here?” Peter asks and You shrug, unsure how to respond. “I- I’m sure Mr Falcon would help teach you, or- or Wanda?”

Shit, Wanda. You’d practically forgotten she existed from how much of a recluse she was now. You should probably go and check on her or at the very least have a chat with her. She was dead for five years, just like Vis, but when she comes back she’s still not over him after months? Sounds fake but ok...

“Wanda has even less of an education than I do.” You retaliate with a foul attitude and an even fouler taste in your mouth, turning your back on him when you stand, and going back to your packing. You try your best to ignore his presence, but you can just feel him hovering metres away, itching to do or say something to you.

“Well then you can stay living here and enrol in Midtown High with me. We’d be the same year now and I could show you the ropes.”

Ok now you know he’s fucking with you.

“Peter, I can’t go to midtown.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve been out of co-ed for too long, let alone education, as I haven’t had any since like fucking February, and I’m too traumatised and crippled for them. How would that look eh? Y/N Stark enrolling for junior year after the death of The Tony Stark?” Peter goes quiet. “And anyway, it’s not like I have the brains, at all. I’m not smart like you, Peter. I’m as thick as two short planks. I got my mom’s brains and some of my dad's abilities. I can chuck on suits all I like, I can build shit all day, and I can play sports like no one's business; or at least I could.” Having your one ankle completely useless is a complete bummer, maybe even more so than losing everyone, because now you actually have to live with being this way. They don’t have to live. “But the second you give me a math equation, I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t you live with your mom then? Mr Stark said she doesn’t live too far out of state, nowhere near as far as the lake house.”

“My dads fucking dead Peter, he doesn’t control shit anymore” You find yourself shouting, your eyes burning into his with a fire of fury behind them. “My mom came back after the snap but she hasn’t answered any of my calls, and she fled the house when I turned up on her goddamn doorstep. She ain’t no option anymore, my authority is Potts.”

He gives you a sad smile but slinks away. No surprise there, last time he saw you, you were twelve years old and tugging on his trouser leg to get him to play basketball with you. You didn’t have anywhere near this level of anger, and you’d never have dared scream at him, let alone repeating the words that hit him like daggers mere days ago. 

 The next day comes too soon, and you’re just chilling , finishing up the last of your packing, and trying to ignore anything pushing you to stay. Why did your chat with Peter compel you to want to stay here instead? What is it about him that always brings you full circle, and makes you feel like that love struck child again?

From your mirror, as you’re adjusting your blouse and switching out your nose stud, you see Peter approaching, steadily advancing down the corridor. Twice he stops, and takes a step back, as well as turning and looking the other way as though doubting his decision to come into your room, but when you see his knuckles come in contact with the wood of your door, as he knocks gently, and the sound floats into your ears, making you turn around to see his meek smile with his head hung low.

“You can come in Pete,” you exhale, “I won’t bite your head off.”

He chuckles lowly and advances towards the bed. He gestures, and you nod, giving him permission and hobbling over to join him moments later. He seems flustered, you can tell me by the way he’s struggling to maintain eye contact and the manner in which his hands are convulsing in his lap. Seeing him like this makes you uncomfortable, and you can even feel bile rising in your throat. 

“Peter, I-”

“No, Y/N, please let me, I mean, I wanna talk.”

You smile and bow out, allowing him space to align his thoughts with his words, after all, you’ve known that it takes him a while to do that, but it’s necessary in any kind of emotional situation with someone as awkward as Petter; just the thought causes butterflies to flutter around in your stomach and windpipe.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, for nagging you and insisting, and for asking you those questions and trying to make you stay. I just, I really just don’t want you to leave. I was insensitive, and I should’ve recognised you beforehand.” You can feel tears pooling behind your eyes, and it takes all of your willpower to not let them fall. “I just want you to do as well as you can, and I wish you all the best, I just wish I could’ve gotten to know you better  before it was too late; ok Stark?”

His lips quirk into a smile, yet his voice breaks as he calls you Stark. It physically hurts to hear him say that, and you want to tell him that it’s okay, and he has every right to be upset and grieving, and you know you shouldn’t have shouted at him and gotten so defensive because after all he’s one of the only people you can let your guard down around. You just want to say that it’s not his fault, except you can’t find the words.

“Why can’t you stay?” He asks sincerely, even a touch of desperation there.

Your heart drops to your feet at his expression, and your next words come out as a hushed, pained whisper, your words slow and detached. “I have no reason to stay.”

He nods dejectedly, almost like he’s giving up on something, and he even moves to stand up while your eyes are glued to the way his muscles ripple with each movement, but halfway to being upright, he changes his mind and turns towards you.

The next thing you know, you feel the soft pressure of his thumb on your chin, followed by the pads of his fingers on the soft skin underneath, tilting your head up to look him in his gorgeous eyes, like molten honey in the soft sunlight of your bedroom. Just the sight of his lips slightly parted causes your mouth to go dry, but you don’t have too long to think about that, because all of your thoughts dissipate with the featherlight pressure and sweet, intoxicating taste of his lips on yours. His nose nudges your cheek ever so gently. It’s barely there, and over far too soon, it still makes your head spin. Christ, you’ve been waiting for that to happen for upwards of five years, and it was just as beautiful as you hoped it would be.

“How about now?” He inquires, a stark contrast of shyness and courage written all over his face.

“Why don’t you kiss me again and we’ll find out?”

You fist the fabric of his t-shirt and pull him towards you, leaving Peter shocked by the strength in just one hand, seeing as he finds his body hovering above yours just seconds later. He looks hungry, already ravishing you with his eyes as you kiss and kitten lick just below his ear. He holds his weight up but leaves no time to press his lips against yours, urgently, passionately. You moan a little at how desperate he is to get his hands on you, the way he knots one hand in your hair, splayed out on the pillow beside you, the way he’s senselessly grinding his crotch onto you. You don’t mind at all, especially not the breathy calls of your name he lets out when you knot your legs around his lower back to pull him closer. It's a primal desire that keeps you moving. His tongue glides across your lower lip, prying its way in, and you just let it happen, too caught up in the moment to do anything else.

“Pete, fuck…”

Your one hand slides under his shirt and runs across the ripples of his abs, you savour the way he tenses beneath your touch, the way the scars feel tenders beneath your hungry touch. You other hand threads into his soft brown locks. You pull gently and elicit the most perfect guttural groan from him.

“Y/N,” he almost pleads, and his lips move to gently suck on your jawline. 

You’re surprised that he isn't calling you Sloane, but you certainly aren't complaining. Your name from his tongue does things to you that you can’t even explain.

You dance your fingers from his hair across to his face, and push his cheek gently. Your eyes are thin, focussed on him, but Peter’s pupils are heavily blown with lust, leaving only a faint rim of golden brown around the edge. 

“You’re so perfect,” he rasps out, and your stomach coils in desire. Your face must look so pouty, so wanton, but you can’t find it within yourself to care.

“Fuck me, Peter.”

He looks like a deer in headlights momentarily, but gets over it quickly, attaching his lips back on yours and allowing his tongue to roam your mouth, savuring and swallowing every whimper and moan that escapes your pretty lips.You let your hand, the one still beneath his shirt, skim over his muscles to where his heart is, beating at a double pace, thrumming gently beneath your hand. It makes your ego inflate tenfold, knowing that you’ve gotten this flustered and needy.

Just as you’re really getting lost in the pleasure, Peter’s hand cupping and massaging your breast as his mouth works wonders on intoxicating you, you hear a rather loud cough from your doorway, and everything stops. You and Peter both freeze at the same moment, and you drop any stance, fully detaching yourselves to glance at who’s there.

“You kids should be careful, and next time, close the door.”

And with that, Bucky’s gone from view as quickly as he appeared, leaving you both with a mere glimpse at him in his sweats with a coffee cup in his hands, no doubt filled with earl grey tea being the old lady he is. 

In the heat of the moment, you’d both forgotten to close the door and turn FRIDAY off. And Rhodey can access all of the footage. Fuck. Oh well, you’ve already been caught once, why stop now?

You wrap an arm around Peter's shoulders and pull yourself up until you’re straddling his lap and upper thighs, eagerly rubbing yourself against the material of his jeans to try and get some kind of friction. He slides an arm around your waist, and you move in to kiss him, only for him to turn his head the other way. 

The moment couldn’t have been lost from Bucky’s playfully snarky comment, could it? You want nothing more than for him to kiss you again, earnestly, fervently, but he doesn’t even spare you a glance, not even when he pushes you from his lip and stands up with his head in his hands.

Apparently he doesn’t feel the same.

“Crap, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? Y/N…”

He even begins to pace, that’s when you know that he thinks he’s fucked up.

“You know why I shouldn’t have done that right, don’t you?” he asks, stuttering random syllables in no specific order, but you do notice that with each pace, he paces his way closer to your open door.

“Yeah,” you lie, but you’ll work that out tonight, “I get it. But it’s fine. And I need to pack…”

He smiles nervously, and with a few careless gestures and no words, he stalks into the corridor and closes your door behind him. You can hear him lettering a long-held breath out. 

All of a sudden, you feel completely sick to your stomach. Why would he do that? It was so God damn cryptic. One second he’s apologising, asking you to stay, pashing you senseless, and the next he’s keeping as much distance from you as possible, apologising, and treating you like a child.

That’s when it hits you.

He feels like he’s kissing the old you. You grew up without him there, and in the space of what was merely a nap to him, you grew five years older, grew tits, matured, changed every aspect about yourself, and developed a sex drive; whereas he didn’t change one bit, he’s still the same peter that he was when you were an aggravating child, crushing on him from afar and trying to be like him. He feels predatory at kissing you, because all he’s ever known you as is a child, and this is all new territory, a territory he’s too scared to broach because he can’t get permission from the man himself.

Maybe that’s why your dad had to die, so that you’d never end up with Peter, and that’s Earth punishing you for some godforsaken reason.

So you just lie there, far salty tears involuntarily dripping down your cheeks as you sit there and think. Will you ever just be fucking happy?

 Happy’s set to pick you up at noon today, and after a night of scarcely five hours of sleep, you are not in the mood for anyone and their funny business, especially not Peter, and you aren’t exactly peppy for the hour long drive to arrive there with the Bimbo and the Brat. Well, at least everyone has low expectations of you, so it shouldn’t be that much of an issue when you simply scowl at them and flip them off until you chuck yourself into the car and wave them goodbye for the last time. You’re not sure if the gravity of the situation has hit you yet, maybe you’re repressing it, or maybe it simply just does not bother you, the same way that most things don’t.

You don’t even bother with your appearance, and stick to black trackies and a cropped tank top, with a mildly colourful button-down open over the top. Seeing as your docs are packed in the ‘hide from Pepper’ box, you toss on your worn down black converse and begrudgingly throw your hair up in what you hoped would be a messy bun but ends up looking more like a lopsided half-up ponytail, so you snap the hair tie and throw it away. Hey, that’s an easy way to deal with the Peter issue. Snap him in half and chuck him in the trash where he rightfully belongs after yesterday. 

All you have for breakfast is an iced coffee, and justly so, no one dares even make eye contact with you. By ten, all of your bags are out in the hallway, and not a single personal affect is left in your room. You say a quick goodbye to FRIDAY, and hobble out into the living room, where you spend the next almost two hours either staring blankly ahead of you and ignoring what’s on the screen, or picking at your crutches while you analyse the previous day with Peter. No matter how much you want to hate him, you can't refute the way he made you feel, completely under his control, so willing and malleable, so eager and hungry and loved.

 Happy pulls up at 11.55, and you begin to help him load everything into the car, but get refused after two bags and therefore two trips downstairs after you nearly fall face first and your crutches slip from your arms. The rest is down within seconds by Sam and Bucky.

You said goodbye to Wanda a couple of days ago when you popped in for a chat, but she’d still made her way out here, so you give her a quick hug and wish her well, and you see that May has made her way out to see you off, but Peter is nowhere to be found which makes your cheeks burn with anger.

“I’m so sorry for now knowing who you were my love,” she tells you, running a hand through your hair, “Peter told me all about you before it all happened, he said you were such a cutie, and I know that he would’ve made more of an effort had he recognised you.”

You chuckle softly, hug her, and simply don’t reply. What are you supposed to say to something like that? Bucky and Sam appear back at the top of the stairs and advance towards you, knocking each other out of the way in a playful battle to hug you first. Sam wins by tickling Bucky just beneath his ribs, and bear hugs you, making you feel like a baby koala. 

“Use protection next time, and please, God, shut the door.” He whispers in your ear, making you jump away, your jaw slack, utterly aghast, but he just laughs at your expense.

“You told him about that?” you accuse Bucky, shoving a finger at his chest.

He raises his hands in surrender and even lets out a chuckle before cuddling you, his metal arm somehow a comforting presence around you. 

“Of course I did, Doll. It was too good not to tell.”

You swat him gently on his chest, but instead of pulling away just yet, you bury your face in his t-shirt for possibly the last time. 

“You two kids get along, or I might have to come here and whip your asses.” you glance between Bucky and Sam, making them laugh, but they nod nonetheless and step backwards to join May, allowing you to leave. You grasp your crutches and let your arms fall through the rests, your hands slipping around the handles like second nature, and you start to make your way out. Something that resembles hope begins to blossom in your stomach, so you muster all of your courage and take a fleeting glimpse over your shoulder, but much to your disappointment yet not very much surprise, he isn’t there. You feel something within your chest physically break, and with the pain all over your body, emotional above all else, stemming from betrayal, you wouldn’t be surprised if it isn’t your heart strings. Oh well, you tell yourself, and in recovery from bowing your head down in embarrassment, you hold your shoulders high with any remaining pride as you take the few steps to the door, ignoring the tears that begin to fall. Your tears are possibly the most confusing thing about this ordeal, you never cried before, not from emotion at least. 

“Stop- Y/N, wait, please Sloane…” you hear breathless shouts, followed by hurried footsteps on the linoleum. Instantly, you recognise his voice. “Please stop, I’m begging you.”

You halt your steps, and prop your crutches against the wall, but are slow to turn around, and even when you do, it takes you a moment to actually meet his gaze. His eyes hold all of the hurt he’s feeling. He hardly slept, you can tell by the red rims and deep, sallow bags. The warm chocolate colour is slightly murky, something of an anger in them, maybe even a sense of loss.

You can’t track anything more, because you take one step forwards, and he begins to virtually sprint towards you, his hair bouncing as he dashes across the floor and entwines his arms around you like vines, relentlessly squeezing you and ceasing to let go. He simply just stands there, glued to the spot, holding onto you, and once more you feel the tears well in your eyes. You’ve never been hugged this way, not by anyone, so you make the most of it and gently grasp his t-shirt to draw him impossibly closer, his scent enveloping you in a blanket of warmth and adoration. He moves one hand up to knot in your matted hair, and buries your head closer into his shoulder, which you welcome, even if you’re wetting the shoulder of his shirt with your tears. You lose count of the time until you let go, just savouring the way he holds you so lovingly, and you don’t particularly ever want to let go. All of the rest of the world has disappeared. But still, you both detach yourselves just a little, and you find your lips mere inches away from his perfect lips. Without another thought, something otherworldly takes over, and you find your lips planted together in the most intimate way possible. The tip of his tongue barely has to swipe your lower lip before you grant him access, and as you do, your mind and soul proclaim thanks to the gods. He tastes like heaven and cherry pie - his favourite - and he feels even better. The way his tongue dances with yours is like a massage, second nature, and God, you never want it to stop with how crazy he’s making your mind go, let alone the flock of butterflies fluttering around your stomach. His one hand shifts to the small or your back, and you find yourself wrapping your arms even tighter around Peter until your hands touch, and you have him held in place, in the most perfect position, the one where you know he belongs.

You separate, gasping for air and gulping as much down as you can in such a short amount of time before his hands are in your hair again and he’s kissing you just as sweetly, yet hotly, as before. The sensual way he gazes at you makes your insides turn to mush in seconds, and you have to look away even before he kisses you again because you fear you shan’t be able to keep his gaze if you ever want to leave this place with your heart intact. This kiss isn’t as long, you realise that as your hands drop to his waist and stay there lightly, feeling the skin above his hips rippling beneath his tensing muscles. His body shifts, as does his grip on you, and he starts to pepper kisses on your lips and cheeks, just small, precious pecks that keep your heart beating with joy and longing. Just the feeling of his lips kissing away your tears as he hovers above you makes you feel alive at long last, and he makes you feel more cherished than you ever imagined you could.

“You need to go, Happy’ll start honking for you any second.” he breathes, the softness of his breath running your eyelashes and allowing your eyes to flutter clothes, his freckles disappearing from your view for a second. Then, as if on cue, Happy's horn resounds. “I’ll walk you down.”

He looks so crestfallen as he pulls away from your and passes you your crutches, keeping a safe distance. And although you both know that everyone saw, it doesn’t matter, and no one says a word, they all just observe quietly, but you can tell that they’re smiling down on you both. You can still taste your salty tears mingled together pressing on your lips, the taste of just indescribably, distinctly Peter stuck in your mouth, a taste you never want to stop tasting. 

When Peter crushes, you oblige and scramble onto his back as he carries your crutches, and the walk down the stairwell to where Happy’s parked on the sidewalk is a silent one, but it’s still comfortable. There are so many things the two of you want to say to each other, but it’s too hard to express them given that you’re about to be shipped off somewhere that he’ll probably never make your acquaintance again, no matter how much he wants to spend all of his time with you. You’re more conflicted than you’ve ever felt, so stressed, so hurt, but at the same time you’re so happy that you got to make those memories with Peter before you leave, elated that you made up with him, pleased that you got to feel him kiss you one last time. 

When you reach the concrete, Peter gently places you down on your feet, and he puts your crutches into the open door at the back of the car and proceeds to stand nervously beside you, his hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. You have your head down, anxious beyond comparison, just staring at the gravel, until one of Peter's hands comes out from where it was and takes your trembling hand into his palm, his fingers slowly tangling around yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. He switches his gaze over to you and catches your eye. He smiles briefly before bringing your knuckles up to his lips. 

“I’ve fancied you since I was eleven,” you tell him, “That’s almost six years, that’s a long ass time.” a brief hint of humour creeps into your pained, quiet voice.

He just chuckles and rubs his thumb over your knuckles, making you smile, despite the pain of the situation. He speaks to you real soft. “I know.”

Your hand feels like it was meant to fit in his and sends a new sort of warmth shooting through your body, but it doesn’t last long before he’s helping you into the backseat of the car and reluctantly removing his nimble fingers from their grip around yours, and placing a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead for good measure, a kiss you’ll always treasure.

“Don’t,” you plead, feeling a sob suddenly choke your throat when all that’s left are his fingertips grazing yours. “Don’t let go, Peter, please.”

It’s difficult to remain stoic around Peter now, it’s like everything just completely pivoted the day he kissed you, and if you’re honest, you don’t want to go back. You don’t want to be the hateful girl you once were, just longing for him to come back. Now he is back, you don’t have to wait anymore, and he can help you be your old self again. If only he’d just hold your hand forever, and you could actually be together.

And then it hits you. You need Peter almost as much as you need air to breathe, and if he lets go, you’ll be lost, and it’ll feel like it did for five whole years, you’ll be lonely and isolated, and even in the few days that you’ve had him back in your life, that feeling has completely dissipated and been replaced with an albeit confused elation and a warmth of love. 

“I have to,” he whispers back his eyes already red, “I have to let you go. It’s what Mr Stark would want.”

He pulls away and closes the door in one swift movement, turning his back on you. You see his mop of brunette curls slip down from view when you peer out the window, hot tears burning your cheeks. You know he’s sitting on the side, his head in his hands, but you can’t look that far, so instead you listen to the soft purr of the car as it comes to live, and you let your laboured breath steam up the glass that your hands are placed on. As you begin to pull away, your final glimpse at your old home escaping you, you see Peter waving frantically and beginning to job alongside you, only stopping once you exit the driveway. Thanks to the tinted windows, you know he can’t see you, but you see him anyway and wave back before your pain overwhelms you. That happens the second he’s gone from your peripheral vision, and your chest caves in loud, wrenching sobs that’ll leave you in pain for days. 

Is this what it feels like to have your heartbroken? 

Of course it is, you know this, but all of the times you’ve felt it before, it still hasn’t felt this bad. You know that it’s happening for a reason, that God is punishing you this way for a reason, but no matter how hard you try, it just seems endlessly painful, and all for nothing. What could possibly be the reason for this?

You’re so locked in your thoughts that you barely realise that Happy has slowed the car down, and is looking over his shoulder at you, trying to bring you back down by asking how you are and how you feel. Did he not just see that display?

“If I was allowed to stay,” you slightly pant, your teeth gripping and your first clenching of their own accord, “then it could’ve been me and Peter. Just the two of us, the way it was supposed to be as I was growing up. But everything happens for a fucking reason, right?”

Happy just swallows and mumbles something incoherent before sliding the glass back over and starting up at another steady speed. You don’t know why you’re so... angry all of a sudden; you shouldn’t be angry, you should be upset and almost grieving, crying for the loss of an old home but excited for a new one. But yet, what’s the point in all of that? You’ve felt those emotions plenty of times in your short life, and you always thought you felt them for a reason, but where the ever loving fuck is that reasoning right now when you actually need it? 

Grieving has lost its effect on you by now, and your mind feels hostile from all of the thoughts whirring around. You’ve had the same thoughts every time someone died - every time you thought your dad died, when your mom died, when Peter died, when everyone else just turned to dust. Then you felt them all over again when your dad died, for real this time, but what was the point? Nothing good ever came of it… nothing except grieving for Peter. You felt the same way you do now, only now it's somehow worse, yet he isn’t dead. You grieved for him more than you did your own mother, because he cared, because he actually paid attention, because he told you that you were pretty for the first time in your life. He always treated you like a person, like an equal, even when you were just a clingy child, vying for someone's attention when neglected by both of your parents because they had better things to do. But even now, now he recognises you again, he’s treated you like an equal, maybe even put you on a pedestal after you were extremely terse and treated him horribly. He still kissed you and cared for you and loved you-

SHIT.

You love Peter. Surely that must’ve been obvious for a long time, but now you’re finally admitting it. You really, genuinely, wholeheartedly love the little shit. Your stomach churns with nerves, and your mind tells you that you’re insane, but your heart… your heart has known all along, despite how much you fought it, and it’s now telling you to go along with it. You’re so… overcome with emotions that you don’t even know where to start or how to react or even try to begin to suss them out to deal with them so you do what feels like second nature the past few days, and you begin to cry, unable to choke it down any longer.

“Turn back happy,” you plead, “Shit! I said turn back now Goddammit!”

“I can’t, Sloane, you know I can’t, bosses orders.”

His words just hurt you more, if that was even possible, and pile something new onto the burning pile of emotions battling for territory within your exhausted brain. 

“Happy, turn back right the fuck now, or I will scream until the glass breaks.”

When he does nothing, your sobs become harsher, and something in your throat snaps, forcing you to become hysterical. It’s something primal that takes over your body, a demon's force, because God knows you wouldn’t usually have this in you. You scream. It’s just a shrill sound to begin with, until your heaving chest and tears break through, and make it into a full hysterics game.

“HAPPY! TAKE ME HOME, TAKE ME TO PETER!” you screech, and you repeat the same words until you can’t breathe any longer, but even when your lungs fail you, your hands don’t. 

You clip your seatbelt undone and begin punching the glass. It starts off just to be the dark tinted window separating you from happy and the wheel that would allow you to drive home, but even though the glass begins to wobble, it isn’t enough, so you move to the windows, your knuckles and palms coming in contact with the night shaded glass again and again until they’re rattling and even beginning to crack, but the second you feel you can, you release the most bestial, guttural scream that you can muster, and punctuate it with a rough shove to Happy’s chair.

You want to stop, but with all of the loss you’ve been through, you just need this one thing, this one person, this one place to feel complete, and none of it’s happening. It’s unspeakable, indescribable the way you feel, the turf war that’s occurring all over your body driving you insane. 

“Just take me to Peter,” you finally beg after what seems like an eternity, collapsing completely into your seat, “I need him, Happy. I need Peter, please… please.”

You’re drained, dehydrated, hurt, and it doesn’t seem like that’s going to change any time soon. You’re driving away from the only happiness you’ve ever known to live in the arse end of nowhere with two people you hate, and so a void just takes over everything that previously embodied you, and you succumb to the emptiness, your last thought being of all the tears you’ve cried over one boy, the only one you’ve ever loved, and now you can’t even tell him that. 

It was hard to grieve for someone, only for them to come back, the same way it was hard to grieve for someone who never gave a toss about you. That's what you’re finding so hard about all of this. But now, none of that matters, because he’s gone.

Two months later

The doorbell to the house rings for the third time today, driving you utterly up the wall. First it was the postie with some kind of oversized parcel for Morgan, then it was Happy, here again to help outside and be a ‘watchful eye’ while Pepper is out grocery shopping, apparently since they still don’t trust you rough to take decent care of your own sister.

“MORGAN!” You yell from your place at the back of the house, knowing that from her spot on the sofa in front of paw patrol or whatever shit she’s watching, she’ll hear, “Get the fucking door!”

“Mummy told you not to say bad words, Y/N.” She shouts back, and you can practically hear the signature Stark smirk in her words, although it should be far too early for her to actually be making that face.

That’s one thing they got right with Morgan, though, at least she calls you by your actual name instead of fucking Sloane, even if Pepper does ‘accidentally’ slip up and call you by that awful legacy name from time to time when you really annoy her, say by breaking a vase or some china, or screaming at her using all of the profanities you can think of. She’s really regretting taking you in, now, because you’re simply that much of a handful that she had Happy and Rhodey actually build a quiet room for some respite. You’re still in the rebellious phase, and you don’t seem to be leaving it any time soon, although you have let the dye in your hair grow out and you haven't bleached it… yet, and some of your piercings have naturally closed over, although that was more so that Morgan wouldn’t continually take a metal detector to your face. 

Abrupt, your thoughts escape you, and you can’t catch the thread, because after multiple attempts of Morgan’s to click open the reinforced vibranium locks on the doors (Rhodey’s suggestion), and the shifting of a stool to allow her to climb to it, you hear a shriek and some mess of words that sound like ‘Peter’. But no, that's simply impossible. You’re imagining things in your annoyed state, knowing it would’ve been a lot faster and quieter if you just made your way over there yourself. 

“It’s for you!”

Now this peaks your attention. No one has been to see you in the whole time you’ve been here, nor have you ever gotten mail. No one comes to see you, so maybe your ears didn’t deceive you.

You leap up from your seat and begin charging to the door, running as quickly and carefully as you can over Morgan's toys, but you’re also careful to not aggravate your injury. One good thing that came from your time there - the only good thing - is that you were able to work with your dad's remaining technology and do intensive physio, resulting in your mobility improving tenfold, also meaning that now you can not only walk but kind of run without assistance. But that doesn’t matter as soon as you see the man standing in the doorway, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and an expression of pure delight on his puppy-like features. 

“Y-you can walk?” he blubs, his cheeks red with joy.

The flowers fall from his hands onto the deck, and your eyes fill with tears as your hands fly up to your mouth, only just containing your sobs. Your whole being is overcome with happiness like you’ve never felt before, and it seems like all of your depression since you left him has melted away, and a new you is born.

“You came back for me…” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear, and in response, he draws his lips into a tight line to contain his smile, and nods his head at you, soft brown curls falling into his soft eyes.

“Why are you sad, Y/N?” Morgan asks, and tugs at your shirt, but you don’t even realise, because the sight of Peter coming towards you is all that you can see and feel, and you begin advancing towards him too, until you collide in a heated kiss. Everything just seems like a tangle of limbs, a clash of teeth, and a battle of tongues. You’re too wrapped up in the feel of him, the passion of the moment, the intimacy of the kiss, that you don’t notice that Peter’s already got you picked up with your whole body tied around him. He tastes utterly delectable, the same as before, and his tongue feels incredible as it sweeps your mouth.

“Morgan-” you pant, “Go find Uncle Happy in the yard, now.” When she doesn’t move, you open your eyes to glare at her, stunned and traumatised into silence with her mouth slightly agape. You can’t bear detaching from Peter’s lips for even a second, so your words are all rushed. “Morgan get out now, I can see him there, in the yard, go!”

The little squirt smiles wryly up at you, but does as she’s told, and scurries off into the mass of flowers and perfectly cut grass. Seeing her gone, you let out a long held breath and smile into Peter’s passionate kiss. All of the love floods back to you, and you feel whole once again. But before you can get too caught up in the sappiness, Peter is already blindly stumbling through the house and kicking the front door closed behind him. Your fingers in his hair, you guide him to the couch.

As he kisses you so tenderly, even in the heated moment, you finally understand what everything was for. Every trial and tribulation in your life was teaching you, helping build you up for this very moment, where it all makes sense.

Everything in life has been for a reason, and that reason is this very moment. The thought makes you smile, but nowhere near as much as Peter’s own smile does.

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “A Litter More Than They Bargained For”

Hey there friends and shipmates! I’ve taken a couple of weeks off on the Self-Promo Sunday posts, but I was looking back through some of my older pieces and found this fluffy one shot offering from a couple years ago. (It was part of the amazing @cspupstravaganza event in 2019.) I didn’t make it any cover art before, so I’ve added that to it as well. Taking place sometime post- season six; Hope is present and a toddler, but Henry is still there as well. That makes it canon divergent future fluff, I guess? Apologies if you’ve read this one before, but maybe you’ll get a little smile from revisiting it.

Also available on both AO3 HERE and on ff.net HERE

“A Litter More Than They Bargained For”

One pet she could have handled. One pet would have been perfectly manageable. A single, sweet-natured, reasonably well-behaved small pet - maybe a cat or a rabbit or even a hamster - wouldn’t have really changed anything about their lives in the seaside house or their daily routine that much. In fact, she and Killian had already been discussing a surprise for Hope in the form of a kitten from the litter her mom and dad’s barn cat had recently birthed, completely charming their pre-schooler upon her first visit to them at her grandparents’ farm.

Somehow, instead, all of Emma’s best-laid plans had been inverted and overturned, as so often seemed to happen in their chaotic magical town. When they had gone into the station that particular morning, they had found a large, mud-caked, burr-riddled dog tied to the bike rack and whining pitifully upon first sight of them. Emma was too disgruntled at the culprit for figuring out that their whole three person department were soft touches for strays as she charged foward to untie the poor beast, to even realize that the critter was already rooting into her affection. Needless to say, rather than their intended adoption, they had managed to take in a shaggy, slobbery mixed breed almost as large as a Shetland pony, with at least some Irish Wolfhound in its ancestry, according to the shelter attendant.

Gleefully mimicking that last declaration in her toddler voice, Hope had leaned over out of Killian’s arms to reach for where the huge hound lounged panting on the exam table, tongue lolling and tail thumping happily as she babbled, “Wolfie! Wolfie!” and patted along the dog’s back and shoulders as well as she could.

The thick, scruffy grey fur covering the animal’s lanky form did indeed resemble a wolf to some degree, and Kililan chuckled good naturedly at the easy moniker their daughter had seemingly bestowed. “Well, it would seem our little love has already christened her, Swan,” he commented lightly.

Emma wasn’t fooled by the casual demeanor covering her True Love’s words. She felt her last chance of finding a more suitable home for a dog of that size outside the town limits (preferably with acres for it to run) fade as she realized that her husband, as well as her little girl, was already attached. Killian wanted this dog more than he would admit.

Reaching out to stroke the gentle giant’s head resignedly, Emma reluctantly admitted to herself that the poor stray really was a sweet dog, despite her astonishing proportions and the amount of extra responsibility she herself would no doubt be taking on. “Hear that, Wolfie?” she questioned, looking the dog in the eyes rather than either member of her family, whom she could feel nearly vibrating with excitement beside her, “I guess you’re as good as ours.”

Henry only confirmed the permanence of the decision when he got home from the high school after his editors’ meeting for the school paper. Though a dog had never been something he had particularly asked for - they had spent so many of his growing up years being flung from one realm to another, either trying to rescue some member of their family, or seeking the needed magic item to fight some new villain, that it hadn’t left a lot of time for house training puppies or taking one for leisurely evening strolls. Still, as Henry came up the walk and saw Wolfie stretched out on the porch, Hope cuddled against her side and Emma and Killian curled together on the porch swing, the way her nearly adult son’s face had lit up and he’d rushed forward in excitement had shown Emma that kids didn’t really grow out of loving dogs, no matter their age.

Ruby, or perhaps the irrepressible brunette’s inner wild animal, seemed to find their new addition, and the rather obvious name Hope had latched onto, especially entertaining. Due to Wolfie’s size, the Jones clan now ate outside at the patio tables when they stopped for breakfast on the way to drop Hope off at Ashley Hermann’s Pumpkin Seeds Daycare, and before Henry took off for class and they headed on for the station. Her mother’s best friend didn’t even try to hide the fact that she saved back either bacon, sausage, or ham especially for Emma’s pet each day, laughing when after about a week Wolfie came to her the moment she exited the diner’s front entrance, before she could even reach their table, and began nosing at her pockets for the expected bounty.

However, it was Granny herself who startled them with a matter of fact question about a month after Wolfie had joined their family. The diner’s proprietress had come out to wait on them herself that morning, a real nip in the air as November neared, and explaining that Ruby was lying in for a while after the full moon the night before. Her half-spectacles perched on the very end of her nose, eyes sparkling with every bit as much pep and mischief as her exuberant granddaughter when she neared their table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the chill and a pencil tucked behind one ear.

“The usual, Captain?” Widow Lucas asked with a playful nod to Killian, “or are you and your crew feeling adventurous this morning?” While awaiting their answer, she reached into her apron for her order pad, also pulling out a juicy ham bone for Wolfie.

“Here you are, darlin’ girl,” she continued, bending to offer it to their canine companion, much to Wolfie’s approving delight as she barked a ‘thank you’ and took the treat into her drooling jowls with an almost humorous care, then immediately dropped to hold it between her massive paws and began gnawing away.

When Granny stood to face them again however, a knowing smirk was painted across her face, taking their breakfast order seemingly long forgotten. “You don’t have a clue that dog is carrying a litter of pups, do you?” she asked, shaking her head at what she seemed to think was their dense naivete.

Crossing her arms, Granny watched a variety of reactions cross the four faces before her. Henry looked awed and curious, while Hope practically bounced on Killian’s knee asking, “Puppy? Puppy! We having a puppy?” 

Killian’s brows rose in surprise, and Emma was already shaking her head in disgruntled exasperation. “Really?” she sputtered, narrowly eying the diner owner as if she might be playing some sort of elaborate joke at her expense.

Then, plunking her head down to rest on her arms crossed on the table, she sighed as her daughter contiuned to chortle in delight and Henry and Hook laughed heartily, in spite of their manful efforts to hold back for her sake. “Why am I even surprised?” Emma muttered. “Of course, she is.”

***

From there, they learned that apparently the shelter owner did not have it out for them, but that it can be genuinely hard to tell when a dog is expecting until they are quite close to their due date. It also turned out that Granny’s lupine sixth sense had been right on the money. Within another couple weeks, they could see for themselves that Wolfie’s stomach was rounding and she was nesting in corners throughout the house, particularly favoring the warmth of the laundry room between the dryer and the wall. Seeing as how canine gestation was only eight or nine weeks from start to finish, and their mother-to-be was already showing, it was a bit of a scramble to prepare, knowing the litter of pups would soon be on its way.

As had become typical since Wolfie’s arrival, this too went well beyond what they had expected. On the night they returned from Hope’s Thanksgiving Play at the preschool to tiny yips and whimpers greeting them the second the door opened, the entire Jones family was stunned to discover eight small wriggling bodies jostling for place against Wolfie’s exhausted form where she lay curled into the mound of old blankets and towels they had created for her once her fixation on her laundry room nest become plain. Various rather wetly bedraggled and squirming balls of grey, black, white and mottled mixes of those three colors in coat greeted their eyes, prompting Killian to comment rather drily, “Well, now there are nearly enough of us to crew a pirate ship.” He chuckled, shaking his head, as he added, “Mayhap we can give them proper nautical names this time, rather than letting Hope call them the first word that pops from her mouth.”

“Paaa-pa!” their daughter protested indignantly, stomping her little foot on the linoleum tile and placing chubby fists on her hips. “I did not!” In her two braids, beaded headband, and fringed brown “Indian” dress from the play, she made more an adorable than a threatening sight as she intended, but Killian nodded to their daughter dutifully all the same. “My apologies, little lass. Of course you didn’t. I must have been mistaken.”

Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head at his mannered playfulness with Hope, though her heart warmed inside her as well, loving that their little girl had never known anything but a devoted, adoring, present father, who might have to be pulled back from spoiling Hope at times, but would never let her down or abandon her. The two of them could melt her every defense, just as Henry had always done. Even if it did sometimes leave her trying to be the voice of reason, Emma didn’t truly mind.

Henry, for his part, snorted inelegantly at their nonsense, crouching to pet a nervous-looking Wolfie on the head and scritch under her chin the way she liked. “Don’t worry, girl,” he mumured soothingly. “We won’t hurt them. You’re all safe here.”

Her son grew thoughtful for a moment, mulling something over, then looked up when he asked excitedly. “What if we did pick nautical names for them all? Like Jack and Jib and Scurvy?” He was grinning from ear-to-ear now, as his Author’s love of wordplay awakened - an expression Killian quickly mirrored.

“Aye, lad, those are great! And perhaps Scoundrel and Buccaneer as well?”

“Hey, hey, guys,” Emma broke in, trying to stop their now-steaming train before they got any more carried away. “Let’s not get too into naming them. The families who adopt them may not be looking for pirate dogs.”

But her husband and son were already on a roll, adding Barrie (in a nod to the Englishman who had created Killian’s literary counterpart) and Doubloon to the list of potential puppy monikers, and not paying her words the slightest bit of attention.

***

Finding homes for their doggie brood proved more difficult than Emma had hoped. If nothing else, it had worked out that they were being weaned just in time to join a family for the perfect child’s Christmas present. And, much as she had intended for them to have a quiet little tabby kitten padding after her through the house rather than a train of panting, yipping, running and tumbling balls of shedding fluff, the pups were sweet and incredibly cute. So she couldn’t understand how every time she thought she had someone poised to take one home, it fell through at the last moment.

With a sigh, she turned away from the sidewalk where old lady Hubbard was walking away. Still cradling Cutlass and Matey to her chest, one in each arm, Emma crossed the porch to sink onto the porch swing with a dejected air. She bent to press a kiss into each of their soft, fuzzy foreheads, murmuring what good babies they were and that it wasn’t their fault. Intellectually, Emma knew it was rather ridiculous to be trying to comfort two puppies who were now playfully rolling and tumbling in her lap, not the least bit concerned at the interview’s outcome. They really had been particularly good as their potential new owner had arrived to meet them; sitting calmly without barking or jumping up, sweetly licking the elderly woman’s fingers affectionately when she offered them, and looking even more adorable than usual with their coats freshly bathed and brushed, so black and silky that their fur nearly shone. All their neighbor had seemed able to focus on though was that they might get under her feet and cause her to fall. When Emma had spoken to her before, the older lady had seemed so anxious for some company now that the last of her many children had left the house, but once she had arrived to see the puppies, all she kept saying was, “I’m all alone out there. If I fell, I might lie for days, unable to get up, and no one would know.”

Emma shrugged her shoulders and ruffled the pups’ fur once again; annoyed, but not sure what to make of the situation. Standing, she was about to take the two little rascals back inside when Killian arrived home for the evening.

“They’re both still here?” he asked curiously, one eyebrow arched in question.

Something niggled at the back of Emma’s mind with his question, whispering that he didn’t seem especially suprised. Shaking her head in silent answer, Emma ushered man and dogs back into the house and headed toward the kitchen, where she still had all of the dog dishes to fill.

“Ah well, Love,” Killian replied, something about his voice just a shade too nonchalant. “Perhaps it’s for the best. As energetic as these scalliwags sometimes get,” he laughed and scratched Matey’s belly when she rolled over to bare it in supplication, “they might have proven a walking hazard to one of advanced years.”

Emma was about to question him further, shocked that Killian had hit on exactly what had stopped the potential adoption, but at that moment Wolfie and the other six of her offspring burst into the kitchen and set up a chorus of barks and howls for their dinner, toenails clicking on the floor and tails thunking against the cabinets. So it wasn’t until later that night, as she was speaking to her mother on the phone, bemoaning yet one more failed attempt at finding the pups permanent homes, that the niggling puzzle piece at last slid into place.

“Well,” Snow offered hesitantly, “I’m sorry it fell through, Sweetie, but you know Mrs. Hubbard isn’t all that steady on her feet these days…”

Suddenly, it all added up: Mrs. Hubbard’s unexpected concern with puppies tripping her up around the house, how Ashley had at first thought they might take one of the puppies, only to be convinced by someone that mice would be much more fitting for class pets at Cinderella’s daycare, and how Aurora and Philip’s second child, Hope’s little friend Rory, had suddenly decided she wanted a white Persian kitten whose hair she could put a pink bow in, “like ‘Rie from ‘Ristocats” Aurora had explained in her daughter’s own words when she’d called to tell Emma.

“Oh my word!” Emma shouted, startling her husband, kids, and the pile of dogs sprawled over them in the living room where they were watching tv. “It was you all, wasn’t it? My whole family has been working against me this entire time!”

Looking sheepishly guilty, Killian and Henry both wordlessly shook their heads in denial. Her mother floundered for a defense for a few seconds and then simply fled by ending the call. But when Emma’s eyes came to rest on her daughter, Hope merely grinned widely, a shameless glint of mischief in her green eyes, and nodded her head in confirmation.

“Why?” Emma sputtered.

“Then the puppies are all ours!” her toddler chirped happily, falling back against Wolfie’s shoulder with a giggle, to which Wolfie merely huffed at the impact, then nosed Hope a bit further from the edge of the couch, as if she had one extra pup to watch out for and was making sure the child didn’t fall.

“We’ll see about that,” Emma grumbled, staring each of them down in turn. But, when she flopped down on the armchair in the corner, trying to hold onto her righteous indignation, and Scoundrel came over to check on her, pawing at her leg until she picked him up, and then nudging his grey snout flecked with white patches into her armpit as he stretched out across her chest and promptly fell asleep, Emma was smart enough to know when she had lost the fight.

They were the family with nine dogs now - an entire seaworthy crew.

Tagging a few who may enjoy (or enjoy again!): @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @thisonesatellite @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @thislassishooked @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @ohmakemeahercules @scientificapricot @gingerchangeling @teamhook @revanmeetra87@resident-of-storybrooke @elizabeethan @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @donteattheappleshook @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89

[off-in-the-moors]

Joseph Kavinsky analysis, part 1

aka how did I get here and why is he the reason

Warnings: spoilers for the whole Raven Cycle, mentions of: drug-use, abuse, death, murder, homophobic slurs, xenophobia

Part 1 // Part 2

After finishing The Raven Cycle and analyzing every chapter, character and the overarching plot with my friend, we were left feeling empty. It's been few months, I kept looking-up more TRC related things, other people's opinions, look through fandom content and even read some post from the author's, now deleted, tumblr account, trying to find answers to why I'm feeling like this. Why the books seem to decline for me in quality as I kept reading? Why I can't see Ronan in the same light as the rest of the fandom? Why I couldn't like the author? And the answer was looking me in the eyes the whole time.

"Depending on where you began the story, it was about Joseph Kavinsky."

I loved his character from the moment we met him in The Dream Thieves and still think about him to this day. But why? In a way, Kavinsky is too familiar to me, from his attitude, through appearance to his voice. It’s like I knew him, and this isn’t surprising. I met/saw Kavinskys on the streets, I know Kavinskys, and I was a Kavinsky once in my life. Although I'm the opposed to him, I still sympathies with him and understand how it feels to be in dark places in your life. And I'm not the only one, many people adore him and don't deny his actions to be terrible. But on the other side, the majority of fans hates him and titles him "the worst/most evil antagonist of the series". But why? What about K makes him so polarizing? The simple answer is: the way he was presented and the function he played in the plot. Even then, K's whole arc in TDT was handled horribly and damaged the way readers will view, not only people like K but also themselves. This and also future posts, I’ll be analyzing everything relied to K, including his treatment after book's release by the author and what some deleted scenes and unused ending can shine on.

This is part 1 of a series of posts to come.

This part is about the narrative and characters views of Kavinsky.

Narrative and characters

Narrative is a powerful tool of telling a story, well crafted and coupled with character's internal-voice makes the reader view the story under different light. In a PoV of one character, one thing might bring-up different emotions and ideas, than the others. Exploring relationships and events differ, because everybody experience it differently. But problem begins when the narrative forces a reader to a opinion, without backing it up with reasons or giving a opposing one. In case of Joseph Kavinsky, before we properly meet him, we are told by the characters to hate him and the narrative backs them up in reasons to hate him. All the reasons given to us at that time, boil down to "I heard a rumor."

Gansey hates him, because "There was nothing about Kavinsky that wasn’t despicable" and "he thinks life is a music video". He doesn't want Ronan to associated with him, which is connected with him covering and getting Ronan's ass for the mess he made, having him project his anger and frustration he has with Ronan on to K, who part-takes in the same activities and probably with Ronan, is understandable. But I didn't expect much from a guy who: payed the school officials so they won't kick Ronan out; insulted Adam and throw Adam’s abuse at his face, just to instant of apologizing to him, make a pity party for himself (also having Adam apologies to Gansey for his rightful outburst isn't okay), is fine with having a romantic relationship with Blue while she's still with Adam, hurting him even further but makes it all about himself, etc. Him hating K, just because of his lifestyle, made sense. But were the line was crossed, was when he started to decide on other people's worth. Lines like "we matter" (on which I'll extend later in the post) or "Ronan is fixable and has a soul [Kavinsky doesn't]", were used not only to show what Gansey himself thinks of K (he isn't a human being to him), but also demonize K and make the reader not consider him an equal to the Gangsey (a teenage).

Blue hates him, because he's yet another Raven Boy. Her hatred comes mostly from her distance for them, rich boys with privilege to which Gansey gang is an exception (although two out of four are exactly the kind she hates, and she told Noah directly she wouldn't be friends with him if he was alive) (There can be made a whole post about Blue's hypocrites regarding Raven Boys, but this isn't it). She also talks about how she doesn't feel comfortable around K and "if she couldn’t forgive Kavinsky for always managing to make her feel so insignificant", which makes sense. But while describing him, she calls him "a import from somewhere else", not only lessening him as a person but also making a xenophobic comment, noting his long nose as one of the factors (you could say, she meant him being from New Jersey, but you don't "import" stuff from inside a country, you only "import" from abroad and K is Bulgarian, doesn't matter if he's an immigrant or just has Bulgarian roots). Later, while discussing what to do with K draining the ley lines, Greyman offers to talk to him, to which Blue asks him "can you make him feel worthless while you do?”. Yes, she asked a hit-man, who killed not only Niall Lynch but also multiple people (including three on pages, which was described in the case of the ones breaking into Montmouth) for money. (Yes, fans say it's fine he murdered Niall, because he was a dick and horrible father, but what we forget is that it wasn't a fast death. It was slow and brutal, having him bludgeoned to send a message to Declan. No "he was a weapon in Greenmatle's hand" can excuse it.). Plus, he beat-up and threatened Declan with a gun if he doesn't give him the Greywaren. "Making him feel worthless" can only mean the worst. Kavinsky was a asshole, but he didn't deserved that. Also Blue gives the idea to give Kavisnky to the Greyman instant of Ronan, which was shot down, but not because it's horrible, inhuman and they can't decide on someone else's life, but because they think Greenmantle's people will come back also for Ronan. They were ok, with K being basically a scapegoat so Ronan will live.

Adam just "hates that prick" and "looked at the table with a studied disinterest" when K approached their table at Nino's, those are his only interaction in anything Kavinsky related (In a part regarding the "original" ending, we'll see it wasn't always the case.).

Noah barely exists in the series after The Raven Boys and never comes in contact with K or gives any opinion on him, outside of "ducked his head down into his shoulders, but couldn't take his eyes off the newcomer".

Ronan's relation with K could be its own post all together and there already are some good post about it, but for this one, I'll only mention few things. He gives us a very "I hate him but I'm into this lifestyle" attitude. He races against K but doesn't want to have anything to do with him or he's "dogs". (Yes, Dream Packs canon name is "Kavinsky's pack of dogs" as Ronan calls them. Ironically, Ronan gets angry then Declan and K called him "Gansey's dog" but is fine when Gansey calls him "his dog".) He never thanked or acknowledged K saved his life from the Night Horror. He accepted K's help in dreaming-up the new Pig but afterwords ditches him without even a slit gratefulness (his motivation being remembering Gansey's words), and mocks that K thought there could be anything between them (friendship or relationship, it dependents how you interpret it), turning this into just using K to get what he wanted. And yes, what K did while Ronan slept (tracing Ronan's back tattoo with his finger) was unacceptable, if it really happened and wasn't just phantom-touch while falling asleep (if it was real, it can be interpreted as K acting out of his internalized homophobia, letting himself a moment of “curiosity”, but it still wouldn't make it fine).

Ronan and K insult one-another multiple times through-out the story but the difference is quite showing. K's insults are mostly homophobic, calling Ronan a "fag" or implying Ronan and Gansey are together. This is a typical teenage insults, but are also showing of K's internalized homophobia if viewed through "Don’t say Dick Gansey, man. Do not say it. He is never going to be with you. And don’t me tell you don’t swing that way, man. I’m in your head." and "It's a bomb. Just like you." scenes.

But Ronan, excepting the typical insults like "ball-sack", goes after who K is. "Bulgarian mobster Jersey trash piece of shit" or "Russian" (to the latter, K responded "Hey now, let's not make this ugly") are personal, referring not only to from where K's from, implying he's a mobster like his father and just calling him "a waste". Unfortunately, K's whole character is already one big stereotype of Slavs as viewed not only by Americans. But insulting someone for being "Bulgarian", something they had no control over, is xenophobic. (And for "Russian", as a Slav myself, let me tell you. Calling a non-Russian Slav "Russian" is a quick way to get on their bad side.) And if you're like "Ronan isn't xenophobic, because he's Irish" or "Maggie isn't xenophobic, because Ronan...", you have no idea how things work in Europe. This is the same argument as "He can't be racist, because he's black". TRC fandom is always ready to bring-up all K's sins and even enlarge them, but when in comes to Ronan, all his sins are either forgotten or excused.

One more thing I want to touch on is one of K's parties. After Monmouth got broken into by people looking for Greywaren (which Greyman broke into first), Gansey thinks it must be Kavinsky's doing, because of the fake ID left in front of the door. Him and Ronan go to K's party, he tells them, it's a substance party and asks where are theirs. As an answer, Ronan hits him in the face and throws through a car, just to show him his blooded knuckles with "This is your substance.". The rest is Gansey and Ronan not believing K, that he didn't trash their place, and a "different Gansey" throwing a Molotov cocktail at K's car. After that, they leave. But one thing isn't sitting right with me. The "This is your substance" is a beloved, may I say iconic, scene that is glorified by fans and cited as this "Ronan is so cool and K soo deserved it" thing.

Here's the thing. K is in full right. It's his party, on his rules. Gansey and Ronan just came from nowhere, probably for the first time, so the rule is stated for them. And Ronan's response? Physically assault K. Even if he's angry about the apartment, still he shouldn't just assault him. And Gansey does nothing. And one more thing: K never hits Ronan back. Not in next chapters, not at the end. Never.

Before the chapter ends, we get probably my most hated line from this book:

"Closing his eyes, Gansey leaned his head back on his seat, chin tilted up, throat green in the dash lights. There was still an unsafe sort of smile about his mouth — what a torment the possibility in that smile was — and he said, “There was never a time when that could’ve been you and me. You know the difference between us and Kavinsky? We matter."

We matter. And he doesn't. I could talk about this line and how damaging it is to people who see themselves in Kavinsky, but instant I'll say, why I hate it.

I have anxiety mixed with being introverted and back-in-the-day I felt isolated from my classmates, desperate for friends but only had toxic ones who dropped me so the popular girls would talk with them, just to be friends with me again after some time, bullied to the point of breaking multiple times, and hating myself for not fitting in, unable to connected with my peers in anyway. The line "we matter" echos my worst fear and thoughts from that time. "Everyone matter, you don't". I was too young to even have those thoughts, but they were always there. In the back of my head, like a recurring nightmare.

Just the idea, someone can say with confidence that someone, anyone, doesn't matter, makes me sick. No one has the inside to what's going on in someones life, to what thought are plaguing their head. Everyone's life matter and to say something like this in a book targeted to 12-18 year olds, who are at there most vulnerable stage, is not only irresponsible but enraging. Gansey is saying this about a guy his age, who is drug-addicted and self-destructive, because he doesn't like him and wants Ronan to stay away from. No one calls him out on it. Not Ronan, not the narrative. Nothing.

Until the kidnapping of Matthew and the paradox/question "did the tattoo tracing scene happened?", Kavinsky did nothing to earn hatred from the reader. He was living his life, being a stupid, reckless teenage boy with a power to get everything he wanted. Ask yourself a question: "If you had the power to pulled anything* from your dreams, wouldn't you go crazy with it? Maybe in a very selfish way?"

*  Throughout TRC and CDtH, we see no limit to what a dreamer can pull-out. From a pen or working car, living creatures (animals, copies of real people or purely made-up) to abstract things, like a word with power to animate the dead or an apocalypses.

Yes, K's dreaming drained the ley lines, causing Cabeswater to disappear. But did K knew about it? He knew that he needed to wait for it to recharge before dreaming more things and he did just that. The over-draining was cause by preparations for this Fourth of July party (dreaming many copies of his Mitsubishi) but same did Ronan’s dreaming (but Cabeswater acts as weird gatekeeper, so Ronan seems to be forgiven). But did he knew about Cabeswater? Or furthermore, Glendower? We can't confirm or deny it, but considering K isn't from Henrietta and probably is there only for school, he's there for about 2 years. Would he be interested in some random forest or some Welsh King, which just idea of him being in America is so far fetched to believe in?

No. All he was interested it, was parting and wasting himself away.

We don't get any other or opposing opinions on Kavinsky, only the ones given by Gangsey. They are the outsiders looking in, not having any inside, just rumors and their shallow observations/interactions. But we don't even get any "inside", not from other Raven Boys or even the Dream Pack (who are barely characters). After K's death, the only thing we get is Gangsey's not caring or being glad K's gone. Aglionby is silent and Henrietta, doesn't even acknowledge Fourth of July's Party even happened (but to be honest, the town feels like a theater stage than a living place). The only mentions about K that gives some idea someone noticed anything, was his name alongside Whelk’s and Dittley's in the newspaper at the end of BLLB (but this plot point is never mentioned again).

[potionsprefect]

Before We Met

Pairings: Blaine Hayes x Jennifer Monroe

Word count: 1.1k

Summary: Blaine’s volunteer work is interrupted by a Pictagram post

Set before the events of Foreign Affairs

Category: fluff

Punching the photographer was probably not the wisest move Blaine Hayes had ever made in his life but he would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant the media would back off.

He knew being the first son of Ardona would bring its fair share of attention and pressure but there were boundaries that should not be crossed and that one photographer went too far that night. As punishment, Blaine’s father made him volunteer at the local animal shelter.

He wasn’t expecting to enjoy it as much as he did. The furry animals were always excited to see him and he looked forward to going back every few days.

That day, Blaine finished his day at the prestigious private school in Ardona and made his way back home before he headed to the animal shelter.

“Dad?” Blaine called out as he walked into the large home. There was no response. “Just another day then.” Blaine mumbled as he tossed his bag down and changed out his uniform. He knew he had to be presentable for the animal shelter as no doubt the photographers would be there.

He headed out the door, down the street and rounded the corner where he saw a line of the press on the other side of the road. When they spotted him their cameras instantly went off. Blaine rolled his eyes as he headed into the shelter.

“Welcome back Mr Hayes.” Charles Grech, the owner of the shelter greeted him.

“Pleasure to be here Mr Grech.” Blaine smiled.

“Your service is always welcome here, although most 16 year olds usually are hanging round the local parks chasing after girls.” Charles chuckled.

“I appreciate your thought however my time is much more useful here.” Blaine chuckled.

“Any woman would be lucky to have you.” Charles smiled as he handed Blaine an ID badge.

Blaine took the badge and pinned it to his t-shirt before heading towards where the animals were.

Two excited golden retrievers bounded towards Blaine, their tails wagging and tongues lolling.

“Hey Hettie, Miles.” Blaine patted each dogs head. “Have you been good today?”

The dogs barked happily.

“That’s good, now where are your friends and why haven’t they come to see me?”

Blaine followed the two dogs to where the other animals were allowed to play with the volunteers.

“Blaine! So good to see you!” Pierre Laurent, one of Blaine’s friends shook his hand.

“We thought you wouldn’t show up today.” Another voice said. Blaine turned around and saw Antonio de Luca, another good friend pat him on the back.

“I dread to think my fathers reaction if I missed this.” Blaine laughed.

“We would’ve found a way. Besides, it’s not all bad being here.” Pierre said nodding towards behind Blaine. Blaine turned around and saw two young girls cuddling the rabbits.

“Think I could get their number?” Antonio grinned.

“No way Tony. If anyone’s the smooth operator here it’s me. Girls love a French accent.” Pierre ran a hand through his hair.

“I think Italian is way better.”

“Actually the Irish accent was voted the sexiest in a poll three months ago.” Blaine turned his attention away from the girls and looked at Pierre and Antonio.

“Well that’s you out the equation.” Pierre laughed.

“True but you two don’t have a chance either. Now there are adorable animals that need to be played with.” Blaine winked as he directed his attention to the dogs by his feet.

The two men shrugged and grabbed the food by their feet and held it out to the dogs who happily tucked in.

“Wanna play fetch Hettie?” Blaine chuckled at the golden retriever. The dog barked happily. Blaine stood up and threw the ball has hard as he could. The dog chased after it and brought the ball back.

Blaine continued to throw the ball for 10 minutes before Hettie decided she had enough and laid down to take a nap. Blaine made his way to where the rabbits were when he overheard some of the other volunteers.

“Did you see her latest Pictagram post?”

“Yeah! She’s so pretty isn’t she.”

“She is. I wish I look like her.”

“Don’t be silly Charlotte! You’re just as, if not prettier than her!”

“Oh please. No one is as stunning as Jennifer Monroe. That girl could get hit by a bus and she’d still look amazing.”

Blaine froze at the name Jennifer Monroe. He had heard that name before, usually followed by a few Anglo Saxon words that should never be repeated. Blaine knew her country and Ardona were not on the best of terms but personally, he never saw anything wrong with her.

He had never met her so he couldn’t form an overall opinion on her. But he had to go along with not liking her in front of others because no one in Ardona liked Rutherland. If you did, you were considered mad.

Blaine didn’t follow Jennifer on Pictagram but he wasn’t a stranger to the odd stalk every now and then. She mainly posted about the work she did in Rutherland at her school and in the community. Being the first daughter of Rutherland obviously kept her just as busy as Blaine was being the first son of Ardona.

Blaine pulled out his phone and opened Pictagram. He searched her name and pulled up her profile. He clicked on the latest picture.

Blaine smiled at the post. She really was pretty. He had heard many stories about Jennifer Monroe but they never seemed to add up all the time. Like him, she was a child of a powerful person, trying to navigate their way in the world in the shadows of their parents. It wasn’t easy being compared to your parents. Blaine knew he and Jennifer had a lot in common.

He was almost tempted to like the post but knew there would be backlash if he did. It was so easy nowadays to find information online and Blaine knew within minutes of liking the post, his dad would find out about it through the media.

It wasn’t worth the risk... this time anyway.

Blaine put his phone back in his pocket and continued with his volunteer work. Once he had tried out all the animals he safely tucked them away into their shelters. Blaine said goodbye and left the shelter.

He walked down the street and pulled out his phone again, staring at the photo of Jennifer. From news reports he had seen about her, she was a shy but passionate person, who at times found it harder to fend off the press. As long as you don’t punch them, Blaine thought.

As Blaine greeted the security at his house and made his way onto the grounds, he put his phone away. There was no doubt this wouldn’t be his last visit to Jennifer Monroe’s Pictagram page.

Maybe one day, their paths would cross and he could tell her just how stunning she was.

— — — — —

Jennifer went and punched her local rival after this, if you know you know 😉

Decided to branch out from Open Heart and write some FA fanfics because I’m bored. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future FA fics

[drethanramslay]

Chapter 1

Pairing: Cassian X MC (for this chapter)

Warning: Light swearing and check out this post to know how we are gonna go about this mini series 😊

Word count: 3K

Taglist: @choices-love-affair @miyakokurono @openheart12 @trappedinfandoms @noboundariesplease @nooruleman @madampugzalot @sekizincimektup @dailydoseofchoices @choicesfanaf @choiceskaavya @junggoku @flyawayboo @whatchique @vampiregirlsblog (let me know if you want to added or removed from the taglist 😊)

Songs: Heartless by The Weeknd

I love parties.

What is not to love? The free buffet of food, drinks and woman can make a guy’s day. I had got off work and was hella tired but, at the same time, I was in a celebratory mood. I had just returned from the Caribbean, finishing another WITSEC case, with the witness returned to his family. The reunion was so emotional and the mom made me sit down and eat with them.

There was so much love there and it made me feel like an outsider. I’m still unfamiliar with ‘love’ as a concept. Be it, familial or romantic. It’s foreign to me.

My mom died from a robbery gone wrong when I was just 8 years. My dad raised me after my mom died. He used to be so busy and I think I know why. He was grieving and he threw himself into work so that it could reduce the burden on his heart. But, he didn’t make me feel neglected. He loved me and I often used to think of him as a superhero. The Sunday’s where we would play ball in the park are one of the many good memories I have of him.

He passed away when I was 13 years and it was the worst phase in my life. I don’t know why, but nobody was ready to adopt me or foster me so I was thrown into an orphanage.

It was hell on earth.

The kids there were so primal and aggressive. Regular fights would break out and I swear they were so crazy that it seemed like one of the kids would die. I had to sleep with an eye open all the time.

It was a very dingy and dark place. Water supply and living accommodation sucked. But at least, the school I went to was good. At the age of 15, I swore to study so hard that I could get out of the country.

I mean, Kenmare had its pretty sites and wonderful views but when it’s dark, all the monsters come out.

I got into the army as soon as I graduated high school. It wasn’t much but at least I didn’t have to go to bed with an empty stomach. I started saving up money by doing odd jobs so that I could collect enough to get into a university in the States.

So, I slogged my ass and got a scholarship to Boston University. I packed my bags and never looked back at my fucked up childhood. I worked on re-inventing me. I was no longer the scrawny and scared 16 year old, but I was the 20 year old heart throb, Cassian Keane.

I always wanted to get into law enforcement. Think of it like a tribute to my mom. I don’t remember much but I can remember some memories. Like how she loved baking and singing songs as she worked in the house. I do remember that she loved me so much.

But, the one thing I’ve learnt is that, you should learn from the past but not hold on to it. I wouldn’t have ever moved on if I kept on crying about how life treated me.

Just shove it in a safe and don’t open it.

As the lift soared to the terrace level I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head of all the thoughts running in my head.

The lift dinged and I opened my eyes.

Show time, Keane.

——————————————————————————————————–

It was a high profile party. I did see a couple of actors and CEO’s of various companies. They were all chatting animatedly and drinking expensive champagne in crystal flutes.

A band was playing lively music which could be heard through the speakers and the entire terrace was decorated with fairy lights. I was on the 60th floor and I could clearly see the sun glinting over the the bay, making the water sparkle and glimmer.

In short the area was sophisticated as fuck.

And I couldn’t help but feel out of place. I usually play off all my discomfort with my nonchalance but still no matter how much I pretend, I know that this is not my scene.

I took the overpriced whiskey which the waiters were serving and my eyes roamed around the party, observing the people, the place and the closest exit. It had become like a second nature. Observe, map the area and stay alert.

As my eyes wandered, it locked on to the most gorgeous blue eyes I had ever seen in my life. She was standing there chatting with a friend. Her luscious shiny brown locks fell over her shoulder as she laughed at something the other person said.

She was wearing a red number, which fit her like a second skin, making all the curves prominent. She had a great ass, not gonna lie. And her skin… It was caramel in colour and under the setting sun, she looked exotic.

In short one of the most beautiful creatures God had made on this earth. I just couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I could see the friend leaning in to tell something to her and at that moment her cerulean eyes met mine.

And it seemed like the world stopped.

People disappeared until it was just me and her.

She gave a confident smile and I swear my heart dropped.

She headed inside and I followed her, like a sailor to a siren.

It wasn’t really hard to find her among the crowd near the bar. Almost all eyes were on her, stunned by her sphere of prettiness. You really needed to be blind to ignore such a beauty.

By the time I reached her, I could hear the sleazeball of a bartender shamelessly hitting on her. The jealousy that I felt made me uneasy but, I shrugged it off.

What would I know about that anyway?

I saw the discomfort and the scowl on her face. She was struggling to keep him at bay so I decided to step in.

I mean, who doesn’t love a knight in the shining armor?

Smoothly cutting in, I spoke in a playful voice, “Did I hear that right? The barkeep’s giving away drinks for a kiss? Sounds like something the whole bar would want to know.”

The barkeep’s face turned red. “It’s not an open invitation.” He replied curtly.

“Or a welcome one for that matter.” The beautiful woman responded, her eyes swirling with anger.

“Then it’s only fair her drink should be free of cost to make up for the..” I leaned forward on my elbows and gave him a chilling stare. “…inconvenience.”

Grumbling he gave me the drinks and went back to his work. I turned to look at her, and gave her lopsided grin.

“You know, I don’t need saving.” She said as she leaned on the bar. I knew that she was going to say that.

I lifted my hands in fake surrender. “I just came here to get a free drink.” I had perfected the art of flirtation and with a little smoldering gaze,any woman could fall for me.

She giggled and took the glass from me, her fingers tracing the ridges if my knuckles.

“I must say, you’ve got great taste in uisce beatha. Most people around here think Irish whiskey is something they put in their coffee.” I said as I took a sip of the smokey whiskey.

“Thanks, I know. That’s why I ordered it.”

I chuckled lowly and shook my head at her feisty nature. She was something, all right. Clinking my glass to hers, I said, “Slainte. Here’s to you knowing exactly what you like.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder, and looked at me and I swear, it felt like she could see through my soul.

“It makes things much more efficient. There’s no point in wasting time when you know what you want.”

With that, she waved a waiter over and took a honeyed cream puff off their appetizer tray, grabbing a second to hold out to me.

“For example, I love sweet things.”

Smirking, I took the puff on a napkin and pulled it towards me. “Thanks. It seems you live in the right place. Though I’d prefer some hole in the wall fish n’ chips over the fancy stuff any day.”

And that’s the truth. The amount of money spent on this overrated cream puff could get me some delicious take out and cheap beer.

She bit into the pastry slowly, letting the tiniest bit of cream coat her lips before you suck your bottom lip to remove it. My eyes flickering on to the luscious red lips which were teasing me and slowly arousing me.

God, I want to bite that lip.

“I prefer finding the best of the best. The challenge makes it more enjoyable.” She gave a catty smile.

She is one vixen.

“Sounds like I could learn a lot from you.” I spoke in a husky voice and I saw her eyes dilate.

“Maybe. But right now I was hoping you’d tell me your name.” She asked, as she twirled her finger around the rim of her glass.

“Cassian. What’s yours?”

“Adira.” Her name just rolled out of your mouth like honey.

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful lady.” I took her hand and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. I heard the sharp intake of her breath.

She is so responsive… Wonder how would she responds when I have her naked underneath me…

“Well, Adira… it was lovely to meet you. I’ll let you get back to enjoying the rest of your night.”

I wasn’t actually going to vanish but, gotta keep the ladies wanting more.

But what she did next, surprised me.

She snaked an arm out, and slid her dainty fingers through one of my belt loops, using it to pull me closer to her. I raised an eyebrow and she just smirked.

“Not so fast. I’m not letting you go without a dance.”

Giving her my signature lopsided smile I help my hand out to her. “I’m starting to get the feeling that I couldn’t refuse you anything. Lead the way, Adira.”

——————————————————————————————————–

The phone rang at an ungodly hour and I groaned.

I reached all around and finally found it amidst the tangled sheet. The bed was empty and it wasn’t much of a surprise but it kinda made me crave her.

She was amazing and the sex we had was mind blowing. I think she is the first person to step a foot inside my house. And she definitely was the first person to whom I submitted.

There were so many 'firsts’ last night and that just made me wonder if that was the end of our story.

Maybe I might drop a text…

“Yup?”

“Hey Keane. We have a new case for you. How long will you be here in?” Tomas spoke into the phone.

“Is there coffee and donuts from 'Dunkin Donuts’?” I said as I sat up, rubbing my eyes and eyeing the alarm clock on the bedside table.

4:45 am.

“Obviously Cassian. What do you think I am? An immature?"I swear, I could hear Tomas roll his eyes through the phone.

Smiling, I headed to the washroom to get on with my morning chores.

"I’ll be there in ten.”

——————————————————————————————————–

I got my steaming hot cup of coffee and poured two spoons of sugar in them before stirring.

“What you got there, Marshall Keane?” A bright eyed police officer eyed my cup. “Is it Irish coffee?”

I threw my head back and laughed at the stereotype. “It’s black coffee. Rookie, just because I’m Irish doesn’t mean I am every stereotype you have seen in your life.”  I patted his back and headed towards my office.

It was definitely an upgrade from my cramped up desk. I could sit back and kick up my legs without anyone saying anything. I had my space and I could relax without anyone, figuratively and literally, breathing down my neck.

And I could see it in Tomas’s eyes, the itch to promote me. My back to back successes in the recent cases and the huge underground drug bust I led, it was no surprise. I just knew that he would give me a promotion and I honestly, could not wait.

I loved my job and took it very seriously.

I found Tomas standing in, through the window and I entered. “Good morning, sir. What’s up?” I asked as I leaned against my desk.

“Well, we found a person who witnessed the murder of Sean Kelly by the O'Connell’s.” He said as he turned towards me, face grave.

“Shit. Is the witness okay?” I said as I picked up the file he had kept on my table.

“Yeah… I made Miss Lockhart familiar with the gravity of the situation. She is going into WITSEC and this is your case. This witness could help us in cracking the case wide open and we can finally arrest Killian and Maeve.” As he stepped out of the office and I fell in step with him.

I opened the case file and found what all they had got on the redheads. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

“Your witness is in my office and you are the lead in this case. You both will be shifting to Nantucket for the summer until the heat dies down here and we can get enough evidence. Then, we will get her to testify.” We turned and walked down the hallway to his office and I saw Nwosu grumbling in his office.

“What’s up Nwosu’s ass?” I asked with an amused grin.

“That would be the witness. She cussed him out in front of the entire precinct. She is a feisty one, I’ll give you that. I will just check upon the living accommodation for the two of you.” Tomas said as he headed in the opposite direction. I chuckled as I knocked on the door.

“Miss Lockhart. This is US Marshall Keane. I will be working your case with Tomas.”

As she opened the door to his office the smile that was playing on my lips died down when I saw my witness.

It was Adira.

“Cassian? You are a US Marshall?” She exclaimed.

I immediately shut the door behind me and she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

“Shit. Adira I thought I would never see you again… Are you okay?” I asked.

“Y-yeah.. I just changed into the clothes they gave me and I- I dyed my hair platinum blonde.” She said as she consciously ran her hand through the silky short locks.

“You look magnificent.” I smiled at her, as I took in the floral dress and the new hairdo.

“And you look hot in that uniform. You almost make me wish I had stayed back for a round two.”

Crossing my arms, I leaned against the wall. “I was hoping you would have stayed back for much more.”

A pretty blush dusted her cheeks. She looked up through her eyelashes. “Your mouth is nothing but trouble, Cassian Keane.”

I was going to respond but the phone rang, breaking us from our reverie. I ran my hand through my hair, and patted the man bun, trying to get my cool together.

“Okay Adira. I have been assigned lead on your case. It’s my chance at a huge promotion. Tomas is my supervisor and if he found out we knew each other…”

Adira’s eyes widened. “He would take you off the case?!”

“Yeah. If we were involved in any way, I’d be considered compromised. And who knows when I’d get another shot at this.” I have her my best puppy eyes expression, hoping that she understood where I was coming from.

“I know this is a lot to ask but, can you keep our history a secret?”

Her eyes turned cold and suddenly it looked like I was looking at a different person. “I don’t think it will be that easy.”

My eyes widened. The hell?

“You purposefully hid the truth from me and now you want to act as if what we had was nothing? Don’t you think it seems a little too convenient from my view?”

“Adira- Fuck it was everything to me but your life and my job is on the line! Can’t you understand?” I said.

She rolled her eyes as she looked down on her manicure, bored. “Fine. I will believe you. I will keep your secret, but you owe me.”

Tomas entered the office with a cheerful grin. “Everything good? Did you both get acquainted with each other?”

With glimmering blue eyes she sent a smile towards Tomas’s direction. “Yeah.. Feels like I have known him for a long time.”

A startled choking noise emerged from me, which I quickly covered up with a cough.

And at that point, all I could think of was, how truly fucked I was.

How the hell am i going to survive this summer?

hello hello we back at it again😎

the first two to three chapters will be similar to what pb put up so that we can get a feel of the premise

like, comment and reblog:))

[crlmson-cloud]

SUSUMU NAKAMURA - THE KNIFE OF NEW YORK

‘It seems I no longer define who I am...

I was not meant to be him.’

> BASICS「基本」 → Susumu Nakamura [進・中村] → 31 → Shy and lonely → Homosexual → Manga Artist, but will become a music artist in the Marvel AU → Speaks Spanish, English, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese,  Italian and German → Nationality: Japanese/Irish → 5'9 before serum, 6'1 after > FACECLAIMS 「視覚」 [ PRE-SERUM MARKIPLIER  [ POST SERUM ] CHRIS EVANS

Videos taken of Susumu Nakamura at a manga convention, five weeks before he went missing. 

Experimental Copy of the Documents handed over by Susumu Nakamura, adapted by Angelo Sebastiani into a short story to tell of what happened. 

There were many emotions that Susumu was feeling within this moment. With his true self, he's finally managed to publish another manga, and Beijing was the first city that he was going to meet people at, finally. A chance to be with the fans, and a holiday from being a manga artist and book writer. And his husband needed a break from the modelling opportunities that he was getting. The name of the husband, you may ask? Nathaniel Huang.

A man of around the same age and popularity as the man that he's married. The love that he's had for years with him. Nathaniel, whenever Susumu felt that he was with him. He felt complete, well and truly, he felt complete. Susumu even based some parts of the manga around his husband because of the fact that Nathaniel inspired him so much with his manga. Susumu has done most of the manga however, being the one that's come up with the original ideas for the stories that are embedded within the nine hundred page behemoth of a book. But also within the intricate details of what happens throughout the story. Boarding the plane to Beijing from Tokyo. Susumu expresses his own fears of finding a hotel. Since everywhere may have been booked beforehand. The man looks down slightly and his husband reassures him that they'll find somewhere to stay for the night, even though the meet and greet was cheap and admittedly, a lot of people went through with wanting to meet them. 

* * * Five hours later, they manage to get to a hotel in Beijing as quickly as possible, before having to go into town square the following morning. Nathaniel looks longingly at a Captain America badge that someone was selling up at a market counter. Grabbing it, he decides to pay for it, as a present for his husband. Susumu thanked him quickly for the present and immediately wore it with happiness. Ever since the hero had gone missing, the popularity of his merchandise had been boosted in China. Meiguo Duizhang was becoming a staple of Chinese merchandise and strangely enough it had not been censored whatsoever when he went missing. Well, if he went missing, that is. The details were hazy upon the case of him. No one knew, and China, they were trying to find a new one in order to go through with trying to recreate him over and over. Even though the avengers originally promised that there would be another one if he was to ever step down. 'Wasn't your idol always Captain America when you grew up?' Nathaniel joked. 'Well, only when I found out the comics were being sold in Ireland.' Susumu responded, laughing slightly at what his husband had to say. 'But, yeah, I absolutely loved him.' 'Seems like the whole of China is going crazy over him.' 'Well isn't that obvious?' asks he. The Irish accent almost erupting from his voice as he asked. 'Hey-- calm down.' 'I am calm. What do you think we should do now?' 'Get something to eat, get some rest?' 'Sounds like a plan.' 'Quick question, babe?' 'Yuh-huh?' 'I'm just wondering, I have a meeting tomorrow morning, so are you good with just holding the panel on your own.' 'Yeah sure, I'm fine with that.' 'Alright, thank you.' Nathaniel says, hugging him tightly. A laugh erupting from his lungs slightly as he cuddles him. 'Stop crushing me with your hugs!' Later on within the night, they both had a romantic dinner and eventually, they both went to bed, cuddling together and eventually going to sleep. Susumu struggling more to go to sleep than Nathaniel. They decided to watch a film together, Susumu huddled up into Nathaniel's shirt. They kissed for a while, and they finally laid down. Holy hell he was excited. So excited for what tomorrow had to bring, so excited for whom he'd meet tomorrow. He eventually went to sleep with these thoughts within his head. * * * A few hours later, Susumu couldn't feel his husband by his side. He woke up, and only saw a bunch of black figures and Nathaniel in the background, instructing them all in Mandarin as to what to do with him. 'No! Get off me! I said get the fuck off me!' He shouts, they tried to bring him in but he continued to try to fight them off, that was until he felt a needle in the nape of his neck and was laid to rest once again through sedatives. What happened next, it's a much more darker story. He remembers these men trying to put him in a chamber, spraying him down with a lot of disinfectant before they started on him. Giving him his own clothes and then another injection to the back. China was obsessed with becoming the next power and this was one of the first ways of doing it. Susumu screams out as he feels himself getting pricked with needle. He felt himself grow larger with every injection that they made, and then they finally moved onto another part of him. 'Make him look like his crush, why don't you?' Nathaniel seemingly mocks him from the speakers. Susumu was shaking at this point, he still had a tan skin tone. His face was still all the same, still flawed. Still imperfect. He curled up into a ball and eventually was put to sleep yet again by sedatives. Although, the sedative didn't exactly work as intended. He felt everything, every single cut and prod that they pulled on him when they wanted to render him immaculate. How they changed his jawline, how they changed his skin tone. Everything. They changed everything about him. Up to the point where he was no longer recognisable as his normal self. 'Perfect...' Nathaniel says to himself as he looks down upon his quivering boyfriend in the corner of the room. Susumu didn't want to be perfect, he just wanted to be himself. 'What did you do to me?' He asks, looking up at his boyfriend. His voice croaking through. He had to stop himself from crying. 'I just wanted you to be more happy than you were before.' Nathaniel states to him. Shouting was then heard: 'No-- no why isn't the power fitting in with him?! You're saying it's his gene pool? What the fuck-- I've been trying my best to coax him into this for so long.' He shouts, lying to the people he's faithful to in the process. 'Only for it to fuck up because of his heritage?! I thought, I thought he could have fitted the genes. Give it to me! Give the fucking serum to me!' He hoped to wake up and see whether this was all a bad dream that he was having in his head. * * * Susumu eventually woke up in the hotel bedroom. He smiles softly as he begins to slowly think that it's nothing but a simple nightmare that he had. He gets out of bed. 'Nathaniel! Nathaniel, did you go for your meeting?' His voice hasn't changed in the slightest, it must have been a bad dream. he smiles even more widely. Relieved. 'Fuck he left, didn't even get to say good morning to him...' He then thinks to himself. Looking down at a table he notices a note completely in Japanese. 'Susumu, I've had a lot of fun with you over the past few years, but I've finally decided that we'd best go our separate ways. I hope you the best in the world and honestly, I really do hope that you feel happy. The reasons why I wanted to leave I'll disclose right here in this note. I no longer felt that spark that we once had back when we first met, I no longer felt that love for you that we once had. We both have such large differences, creatively and mentally that it's almost boggling as to how we got together. I'll admit, I'm so surprised that we lasted this long. I'm so sorry, Susumu. I loved you. I really did, but now I just can't keep that façade up for much longer. I'm so sorry. I hope you find happiness. Love Nathaniel xx' The man looks down at the note for a few minutes. Sitting back on the bed as he reads it, over, and over, and over again. He can't believe what he's seeing. He just wants to rip up the note. The feeling of being broken up with after a four year relationship made him feel sick to the stomach, he went into the bathroom, quickly, to get himself ready for his first meeting. He'll still be there. That's when he looked in the mirror. 'No . . . no . . . ' He lets out as he looks at himself. An arising fear beginning to grow and flourish within his body. He looked exactly like what Nathaniel wanted him to look like within the dream. Captain America. He has the brown, almost blonde hair, the chiselled jawline, the beautiful adonis like body that he had. He has everything about him. The only thing that Nathaniel didn't change about him was the beard. He kept that. The only thing that he kept about Susumu. When Susumu's fear starts to grow, he notices a shadow appear on the wall and break the mirror in front of him. He freezes for a moment. He was going to punch the mirror but that would be damage to property and he couldn't do that. 'Fuck--' He lets out as pieces of the mirror were all over the sink. He clenches his hand in anxiety as he wishes to fix the mirror again. Almost as if he could reset time, the mirror returned to its original state. No longer broken. Susumu looks down, noticing that there's still a piece of glass upon the tile floor. He picks it up and looks at the mirror. The mirror in reality was still broken. Thinking that he could get away with this, he changes his appearance to fit that with reality, although when he went out, a lot of people gave him strange looks, and some even called him by the name that he no longer wishes to be associated with. Meiguo duizhang. He went through with the meeting and a lot of people pointed out that he looked different to the profile photo that he shared of himself. Fuck this isn't working. The thought went through his head and thankfully, no footage of the meet and greet was ever posted on social media or was ever on the news. Susumu had to give back all the money that he gained, he hoped to give it to a charity that was about the poverty line. Helping those who were homeless. But now, there's no money. Susumu feels that he has no identity, nothing, he's left with nothing. His husband  fucked up his whole life. He got on the plane back to America and quickly set course for New York, on a panic flight. Not even knowing where he was going. He managed to get through to the airport through a loophole in the system. His fingerprint was still the same, and the Chinese airport checked everything. While it took a day or two, he had a new passport and he could get in. * * * Eventually, he managed to get back there and he walked through the alleyways in order to feel as if he was slightly safer, that's when he stumbled across a woman with a knife, threatening to stab and kill him if he didn't give her his money. The woman was caucasian, a ripe age and unfortunately had stumbled down into the black market and got herself into debt. She started driving the knife closer to his stomach. 'Give me the fucking wallet!' She screams out. A circle of darkness forms behind her and pulls her back onto the wall. Trapping her there. Susumu then quickly makes his escape and manages to get to his house, letting the woman go before doing so. He eventually stays in the house and he begins to break down completely. Curled up in a corner, taking deep breaths to avert the point of sensory overload. He continues to do this for around thirty minutes. Going into his room, he ends up making a mirage for someone else unintentionally. He looked out the window and created another vision of a car, completely totalled in front of a driver. The driver who witnessed it got out of his vehicle and went towards the wreck, only for the wreck to then disappear. Causing him to panic and run back to his car immediately. That's when he realises, that he can bend reality to his own will. 

[moonlightreal]

Fate Episode One

At long last, it’s tiiiiiime!

First: whitewashing bad.  Fact acknowledged.  Everybody else has said everything on the subject (ad nauseum...) so no reason to say it all again!

I’m diving in with questions.  The main one is “Will there be a good reason for Musa to be a mind fairy rather than a music fairy?” Dunno why that’s what I’m wondering the most, but it is.  There’s also “Is Fate!Stella truly an unholy union of Stella and Diaspro?” and “so what makes them fairies not witches/psychics/mutants?” and “So what’s up with Beatrix?  We know nothing about her, and as an Umineko fan I’m favorably disposed towards witches named Beatrice!” and also “They’re not really having sex are they?!”

I’m going to try and approach Fate just like I do every season of the cartoon, ready to celebrate the good, snark at the bad, enjoy many headcanons, reference random stuff, and have a good time.  Pretending I haven’t had my fannish heart nigh to broken by the state of the fandom and that I’m worried I’ll get hate for even posting this.  I’m’a try to start from zero to find my own answer the really big question… “Good, bad, or totally irredeemable?”

So… In which we discover a new world.

We start with… a night scene.  Not promising when “too dark can’t see” is one of my pet peeves!  An old fella comes out to check on his cute Irish sheep.  He passes through the barrier, into the dangerous forest beyond to look for a missing sheep.  Yup, he’s gonna be guest victim in the first five minutes.

Oh no!  Something has disemboweled a sheep and left it hanging in a tree!  Clearly there are leopards in the magical realm!

There is a great roar and an unseen but very large-sounding beast chases our poor shepherd!  The guy trips and falls just as he’s about to get through the barrier and is set upon and devoured by the unseen beast!  Blood spatters the rocks!

Opening! It’s the wings we’ve sen and some really beautiful music.  One point for the music.

Then a gorgeous flying shot of the outside of the barrier and Alfea. Whatever the plot turns out to be, the outdoor setting is beautiful. Music that seems to be both pop and edgy plays as we zoom in on the logo on the gate, and there’s Bloom coming in the gate.

And there’s Terra with her father and a tray full of plants.

And there’s Aisha walking by with her dreads

And there’s Stella taking a selfie with other students.

And there’s Musa leaning on her suitcase, headphones on, looking at her phone.  Another girl says something to Musa and she turns and replies and smiles.

And there’s one of the guys twirling a knife.  I’ve heard Sky starts out in a pink shirt so this must be Riven.  The camera comes back to Bloom as she gives him a doubtful look.  In the novelization she’s mentally labeling him an edgelord, and that kinda fits.  Any dude showing off his willingness to twirl weapons at a high school probably is best avoided—except the dudes here are training to fight so the weapons rules must be different.  I wonder if Bloom knows yet that dudes with swords are normal here.

Bloom gets a text to meet Stella at the gate.  She waits.

Camera pan to Sky talking to another guy.  Sky looks… Sky-ish.  Chris Evans style handsome, blond.  I’d’ve made him grow his hair to mimic cartoon Sky’s silly shaggy haircut, but points for making Sky look like Sky!  Minus points for not dying Riven maroon.  They could’ve made it work!

Sky is indeed wearing a pink shirt.  In the novelization Bloom thinks he’s wearing it “because gender roles were for the weak” which is a line I think is funny and intend to use in a story somewhere. There is no obvious hint in the show that Sky thinks gender roles are for the weak

Bloom’s tired of waiting.  She heads off.  Sky ditches his buddy to go meet her.  “Wow, you are so lost.  I’m impressed with your confidence in the face of complete ignorance.  Issue is, you’re overcomitted. You’re essentially running.  And now that I’m here you can’t possibly give me the satisfaction of turning around.”  he says, all in one go.  

I can’t decide if that’s jerkish or charming.  Maybe Bloom shares my weakness for men with accents because she decides on charming.

Bloom says she’s a fairy, giggles because that’s something she never thought she’d say, they’re standing in the courtyard of a college for fairies, Bloom’s from California, not the Otherworld.  So we get all that established.  Sky is kinda charming here and points out the specialists’ hall and fairy hall.

Sky: “I’d be happy to-”

Bloom: “Mansplain it?”  

So the writing team does know some modern issues!  Bloom says Sky seems like a mansplainer, which seems like quite a leap since she is new and he is helping her, in a friendly-sarcastic kind of way.  She’s giggling, clearly charmed.

Then Riven comes up, and he’s like a foot shorter than Sky, and Bloom escapes for some reason so maybe she wasn’t enjoying the conversation as much as it looked? Or maybe it was just the plot needs to move along.  Riven glomp-hugs Sky.  He’s got a great accent too.

Bloom must’ve left because she saw Stella, they say hello.  Bloom says she got impatient waiting and Stella says, “How very American of you”  So American stereotypes are known in magical worlds also?    

So, Stella!  Blonde, tall, zero Stella vibe.  Accent. Long pale coat and a satiny top with big chunky pendant.  She gets to her ring quick, “Portal ring, the only thing that keeps me sane in this place is the ability to leave it.  Your world may not always be thrilling but it beats this one.  There are seven realms in the Otherworld, each a different kind of boring.”  All spoken in a jaded monotone.  Ugh, what have they done to our Stella!

The girls walk inside while Stella speaks, the school is pale stone and arches and plants.  Other students are arriving, hauling suitcases, hugging.  At least some of them seem happy to be here!

Cut to the globe!  and it’s a magical globe, the water moves and there are lil sailing ships!  But the lands are totally blank, so it’s a cheap magic globe Dowling didn’t pay enough for the one with tiny forests too.  Alfea is in the realm of Solaria.

Maybe they shouldn’t have made Ireland = Solaria.  I’ve only been to England but we did not see the sun the whole trip!  Bloom’s in Dowling’s really cool office.  She spins the globe but the camera pans away before we see the names of the other realms.  Bloom’s talking nervously about seeing people updating their insta stories, expecting Tinkerbells, and the lack of wings.

Dowling: “We had wings in the past.  As we’ve evolved, transformation magic has been lost.  Tink was an air fairy, you’re a fire fairy.”

Dowling says classes tomorrow, learn to use magic slowly but safely… we establish Bloom is here to learn to control her magic so she can go home and not keen on ‘slow.’  Dowling says, ‘trust the process’ which immediately makes me mistrust her.

Then she gives a great lil speech: “Alfea’s graduates have ruled realms and led armies.  They have forged powerful relics and rediscovered long lost relics.  They shape the otherworld.”

But Bloom just wants to get done and go home.  She says, ‘I'm here because you promised you’d teach me control.” and Dowling says, ‘no, you’re here because you knew you have no other choice.” and Bloom looks betrayed.

Yeah Dowling’s sus.  

Next scene: Bloom showing her dorm to her parents over video call!  How does that work between dimensions?  Her folks look nothing like Mika and Vanessa, dad’s got a beard and silver temples, mom’s got big blonde curls.  Neither of them have burn injuries or the sort of freaked out vibe I’d expect from folks whose house was just on fire.

Roommate pan-around!  Terra puts potted plants everywhere!  Stella preens at the vanity! Musa headphones-and-laptop but smiles at Terra.  Aisha comes in with her laundry bag.

Bloom’s parents get suspicious about the timezone thing, they think Bloom’s in the Alps, and Aisha comes and covers for her saying it’s time for lights out.

Aisha intro!  She is wearing a pink and brown checkered dress that’s not super fashionable or flattering.  I like her blue braids though. Aisha does not seem to have the accent that many Alfeans have.

Bloom explains the “human parents, fairy daughter, I must be a throwback to an ancestor” thing.  Aisha looks dubious.  Then they mention Harry Potter!

Bloom; ‘Ravenclaw, sometimes Slytherin.’

Aisha; ‘Explains the lies then.  Gryffindor.’

Bloom: ‘Explains the judgment.’

Congrats, you both were jerks in three short lines. 9_9  But they’re smiling so I guess it’s friendly sniping.  

Bloom goes to see Stella, who’s holding up sparkly tops to herself. She’s also got this weird rainbow skirt that looks like gymnastics clothes not real clothes.  Stella’s changing for the party because people have already seen her in her clothes.  Bloom asks confused, ‘People expect you to wear multiple outfits?’ and Stella comes back with, ‘people expect me to care how I look.” In the same jaded monotone.

Before Bloom can WTF outta there like a sensible person Stella snaps her fingers and creates a ball of light.  Bloom gapes, but not nearly as much as I feel like she should.  The magic is beautiful, it’s all rainbowy and sparkly.  Bloom just hesitantly asks, ‘Can I ask, how exactly you..?” and Stella shuts her down with an almost kind, “I’m a mentor, not a tutor.”

But she does give a little infodump.  “Fairy magic is tied to emotion. God thoughts, bad, hatred, fear, the stronger the emotion the stronger the magic.”

And Bloom says, ‘Do you hate me or fear me?  You were looking at me when you did that.  And I’m pretty sure you don’t love me.” Smart cookie, Bloom!  Points to you!  We know it’s because Bloom was talking to sky, and that gives Stellla some emotions.

And points to Stella, she thaws out her voice and talks like a real person, ‘I don’t know you.  I’m sure once I do I’ll find something to love.”  She sounds rather doubtful about the last bit but yay actual emotion!

Then Stella goes over to Terra for her intro scene and I cringe because the novelization did Terra dirty and I’m not keen to see it on screen.  But it works ok.  Stella gently calls Terra on the number of houseplants and says the secret garden was better kept secret, Terra responds that wasn’t really the message of the book, Stella looks at her with amused patience and leaves Musa and Terra to continue the scene.  And I decide if there’s no infodump about how earth and the Otherworld relate to each other in this show I shall be cross.

Then Terra chatters on about her family and how she grew up at Alfea since her dad works here (she’s holding a 100% fake plant) and drops that Stella is a second year.  Musa asks why a second-year is in a first-year suite and Terra says it’s some administrative thing probably best not to mention.  But Terra totally knows the secret.

Musa’s eyes glow purple.  Magic!  But we don’t hear what she hears.  She starts putting her headphones on.  Terra goes on to say they should all not mention it to Stella, then interrupts another headphones-attempt to offer Musa a succulent, “They’re low maintainence, perfect for you, not that I really know you...’

Musa: ‘If I take it will you stop talking?”

Terra visibly deflates and Musa apologizes and grabs the succulent before finally getting to escape into music.

Aisha leans in to ask Terra if Alfea has a pool.  It has a river and Aisha’s been swimming—twice a day every day!  Terra says no pool, just the pond where the specialists train but nobody swims there, at least not on purpose.

And we immediately cut out to the pond, which looks pretty mucky, I wouldn’t want to swim there either!  Two specialists, a boy and a girl, are whacking away at each other with wooden swords on the shore.  They’re all dressed in black pants and tank tops, very Divergent movie poster except with the Alfea logo on the front. There’s a bunch of specialists training all around the pond and one does indeed knock their opponent in with a splash!  But we home in on Sky and Riven and I cannot get over how short and skinny Riven is compared to Sky!  And the fact that I’ve just been rewatching Lord of the Rings and Riven doesn’t look 100% not like Dominic Monaghan… sorry Riven’s actor, I’m sure in future episodes I’ll stop thinking you’re a hobbit!

Anyway, Riven’s teasing Sky about his crush on Bloom, says Sky always goes for the crazy ones and all redheads are crazy.  Sky puts Riven on the mat and Riven says he was getting high all summer and not practicing. Before Sky can give him a “big brother speech��� on that riven skedaddled because here comes the teacher with a different speech!

This show’s Codatorta, whose name is Silva and who looks very irish and I like him, does a little speech about how y’all gotta train, singles out a black guy I think is Dane and says, ‘even you will be able to fight like him.” and attacks Sky, who fights back.  They spar for a minute.

Infodump: “Sky’s father was Andreas of Eraklyon, that makes him a legacy.” Also, some of these kids are from families of specialists and some were selected by Silva based on their talent for combat and weaponry. “This place will seem like hell until actual hell comes.  We are the first line of defense, a certainty when the future is uncertain!’

Then Dane snickers about the whole ‘school full of kids with swords’ and Silva says it must be nice to be so ‘soft’ he can make fun. And Dane drops that the barrier exists ‘to protect the school from Burned Ones.”

As he says it, we cut to Sky going out through the barrier to smoke.  

Burned ones are gone.  But Silva saw one when he was a kid.  His father shot it but was killed by the Burned One’s poison.  Burned Ones are inhumanly strong and fast, and have a terrible poison, or disease that kills people who get away.

Sky looks over and sees the shepherd’s body.  Yikes!

Cut to the staff arriving to look at the remains.  Just three: Dowling, Codatorta, and Terra’s dad.  Is that the whole staff?  Who teaches? Could’ve been a wolf or a bear… Terra’s dad collects some gunk from the body and I think calls it “char residue.”

Dowling says, “She killed all the Burned Ones.”

She? This world’s Marion/Daphne, likely.

But the adults clean it up so the kids can party!  Our girls are gathered around the food, and they’re better dressed!  Aisha’s got her hair up and a blue hoodie, Musa’s got a little red coat.  Terra has not been blessed by the fashion fairy, she’s in some overalls it looks like, not flattering.  Terra is saying hopefully that maybe the shepherd died of old age and Musa’s ‘Yeah, that old age decapitation” is gentle ribbing not cruel.  

Aisha’s loading up a stack of cookies, says how much she eats and, ‘If I didn’t swim I’d be massive.” it’s not aimed at Terra , but Terra flinches.  Aisha heads off and Terra says something that boils down to, ‘Musa, you’re tuning out me in particular.” which, Terra you’ve known Musa for what, six hours?  Way too short a time to take it personal.  Musa says, ‘It’s a me thing, it’s not you.” and Terra just flusters and heads away.  Musa looks troubled but not sure what to do and puts her headphones on.

This is SO much better than in the book.  Not perfect, all the interactions between the girls have been very weird as if they’ve been given a script full of cruel catty lines and instructed to say them in a kind way, but at least they’ve tried for the vibe of “trying to be nice to people we don’t know yet and flubbing it” rather than “we are all terrible people” like I feared.

Terra meets her dad and tries to go to the greenhouse with him but he makes her stay to enjoy the party.

Cut to some grownup dude—Dowling’s secretary? Apparently searching for something in a desk that I presume is outside the headmistress’ office.

Beatrix… or possibly a gothed-up Bloom… comes to see Dowling and when told the headmistress isn’t in says, ‘I’ll just take a water, room temp, thanks love.’ and then when the door opens Beatrix greets Dowling with a simpering ‘I'm your biggest fan, I’m obsessed with Alfea...” and cascading apologies for swearing, with more swearing. Dowling and her secretary are as confused by this as I am but Dowling says Beatrix can study the history of Alfea in the library if she wants to.  I assume this is evil Beatrix slyly getting permission to hit the books.  Is Beatrix even a student at Alfea?

Cut to Bloom’s notebook, she’s already started taking notes about powers being linked to emotions, love hate and fear.  Great initiative Bloom, but are there no textbooks you could be reading ahead in?  

We get dumped back to a flashback: Bloom’s mom wants her to go out on a Saturday night, to a party or a movie or whatever teen thing.  All Bloom wants to do is go to antique sales apparently.  Bloom doesn’t want to be a “basic bitch” like her mom and her mom doesn’t want her daughter to be a “weird loner.”

Pause while I urban dictionary “basic bitch.”  Huh.  Not a term I ever heard in my circle of nerds.  

Bloom and her mom are awful to each other.  Back in the present Bloom’s eyes flame up as she remembers.  She decides it’s time to go experiment!  Right now!  Before even one day of magic class or one page of a textbook!  The idiot ball has entered play.

Night has fallen because of course it has.  Bloom runs into Sky at the party.  But she’s not looking to party, she’s looking for a place to be alone outside.  Sky directs her to beyond the barrier, because we’re about to have Plot.  If it weren’t for Plot I‘m sure Sky could’ve suggested a specialist workout area inside the barrier. Sky says there might be wolves or bears or “maybe something much scarier” and Bloom catches the idiot ball and says, ‘But no people?  Perfect!”

Sky offers to go with her but Bloom says no thanks in a “I think you may be flirting and I may be down for that in the future just not right now.” kind of a way.  Good character interaction!  Except Stella grabs Sky for a chat once Bloom heads out to meet the Plot.

Sky and Stella have an opaque exchange that really just establishes they have a past of some sort that everyone knows about because everyone stares—or at least Stella thinks everyone is staring.  I’m starting to feel weirdly sorry for this Stella who has none of her namesake’s sparkle and confidence.  Why does she think all the realms are boring?  Is she ever enthusiastic?

...wait, it’s still day!  Why was it night inside??  This show is weird about lighting.  Gosh Ireland is beautiful!  Where’s this castle they got to be Alfea?  Can I go there?  This FOREST!  It is a fully magical forest.  Aisha is swimming in the river, with goggles and a cap but Bloom heads into the amazing forest.  Good music here too!  Forests and magic and music, come on Fate you CAN be a good show, I believe in you!  Just put down the idiot ball and step away...  Bloom goes through the barrier and outside it sees a swirl of orange and white sparkles in the air.  She watches it and laughs and then hikes through a little more forest.

Finding a clearing Bloom calls her fire.  At first she can’t, then she looks through the pictures on her phone looking for emotion. “Pictures of my sad teenage years are not happy thoughts.  Noted.” She says with an angsty little smile.  Then there’s a photo of the burned out house.  She zooms in and stares at it taking in all the details.  And we get flashbacks to the line of fire racing towards her parents’ bed.

Fire! Bloom turns her handful of fire this way and that, delighted, then tries for two hands.  This is the scene from the trailer, playing with fire.  Good music here.  And good that Bloom thought the magic was neat… uuuuntil she realizes she doesn’t know how to put it out.  She freaks out and waves her hands around trying to blow out the flames.

Aisha comes to the rescue and says dumb things like, “You’re losing control.” and “If you get angry at me...” and Bloom does get angry and throws lines of fire right at Aisha.  Who looks terrified. Sensibly, but also has she never seen fire magic before?  She grew up in a magic realm, does she know nothing about how to help someone get control?  Is control taught to magical babies so teenagers rarely see someone wigging out?  But if magic is emotion then everyone will lose control sometime since we all get upset.  How does an emotion=magic society function?

Anyway. aisha pulls water up from the ground and puts out the flames.

Inside Aisha gives Bloom what for about losing control.  Including, “Is that American for sorry I almost set you on fire?”  Srsly, this show is Irish people and Italians stealth throwing shade at Americans!  *Laughs in January 2021* Bloom retorts that she went away from people to experiment for just that reason, and tells Aisha about not having had fairy parents or any magical experience.

Aisha responds with the story of flooding her school including the toilets and having to wade through poo.  (I also tend to call it poo, after watching Mike Rowe.  I wonder if they watch Dirty Jobs in the Otherworld.)

And Bloom tells her story.  Bloom isn’t a cheerleader, she likes antiques and staying home by herself, so she and her mom don’t get along.  Her parents removed her door, which is awful!  And Bloom got flamey eyes and sent fire straight at her parents while they slept. While Bloom sat on her bed in a rage trance.  Understandable level of fury after that fight.  And Bloom feels awful, also understandable. And she snuck out to sleep in a creepy warehouse to protect her parents.  Her folks didn’t know it was her of course, they don’t know about magic.

Aisha says that beats her flood story, but Aisha is also wondering about something.  “You drew on a good deal of magic without even trying. it’s hard to believe you’re from a dormant bloodline.  Is there any chance you’re adopted?”

Bloom laughs.  Then says she heard the story of her birth a million times, she was a miracle baby diagnosed with a heart defect but then after birth her heart was fine.

Aisha: “Oh god, you’re a changeling!” … ‘It’s barbaric and it barely ever happens anymore….”

Bloom has had enough and just says, “why would you even tell me that?” and leaves.  Musa comes over and asks Aisha what she said.  Aisha: “The truth.  Because someone’s been lying to her.”

Cut to Dowling, lookin’ sus!

This changeling thing had better be fully explained later.  Why was it done in the past?  Why is it considered barbaric?  What happened to the parents’ real kid?  I assume she died of the heart condition, but that’s a bigole dangling bit of Plot.  In the unlikely event that Fate goes for many seasons that baby will turn up with magic too or as a specialist or something. 

Dowling pours tea.  Then she telekinetically locks her office door and opens a secret passage!  Dowling is sus.

Back at the party, where it again seems to be night.  Dane is leaning on a column hangin out when here comes Riven with a flask!  He offers, Dane says no thanks, Riven says, ‘There are two types of first-years: pussies and aspiring former pussies.” and pours the entire flask’s worth of booze into Dane’s cup anyway.

Dane says something about, “It feels like less a binary choice and more like a spectrum.”  And points for the actor delivering this line like it’s a sarcastic comment on social juscice-ness rather than the large sign saying “Dane is not straight!’ that the writers intended.  Dane drinks, makes a face, and Riven bullies him into drinking the rest, tipping the glass so Dane chokes.

Terra rides to the rescue, “Bullying the first-years?  Can you be more basic?” and Riven says Dane was into it which he wasn’t.

Terra: “Thinks he’s some badass but you should’ve seen him last year he was just a tragic nerd in disguise.”

Riven: “And she’s just three people in disguise.”

Dane does call Riven out on that bit of nastiness but Terra just does a great lil speech and strangles Riven with vines.  Thought I’d hate that but I kinda liked it.  Go Terra.  Then she introduces herself to Dane, says that wasn’t a great first impression but Dane says he’s about to make an impression by throwing up after a single drink, and Terra hurries him away presumably to the nurse.  

Bloom google-imaged changelings!  Lotsa woodcuts, someone’s fanart entitled “horror of fairy babies.’  There’s more nuance to it than that…  Bloom looks at a family photograph.

There’s Stella, coming to be sympathetic?  Nope, she’s coming to conivingly advance the plot!  “You know there’s no shame in that, wanting a normal life, wanting to be home...”

When the girls get back Bloom is nowhere to be found.  Musa mind-reads that Stella is wracked with guilt,  They put it together, Bloom was talking to Sky and now she’s gone.  Apparently Stella did something nasty to the last girl who talked to Sky.  Terra is kinda straight up badass.  Stella confesses, she kindly loaned Bloom the portal ring so she could go back to “the first world” but to use it Bloom has to go deep into the forest outside the barrier to a door in a graveyard.

Portal’s super low special effects, Bloom pushes open a door in a cemetary, the ring glows, and Bloom walks into what must be the warehouse she hid out in.

It’s very dark inside both buildings but away from the cemetary it seems to still be day so we can see a Burned One’s shadow coming towards the portal.  Day and night seem to depend on location in this show, and anywhere you need a monster it’s gonna be dark!  Bloom seems to leave the magic portal open and we see her step out on the warehouse into a weirdly well-lit night on earth.

Real actual nighttime on earth.  Bloom walks to her parents’ house and calls them from outside.  Her dad’s surprised she called twice in one day.  This call her folks seem just worried and nice, not awful like they were in the flashback.  Bloom cries.  She can’t ask her parents about the changeling thing.  Her mom says very kind, ‘Your path isn’t like mine or your father’s but I can’t wait to see who you become.”  Bloom hangs up and cries and watches her parents in their house, then walks back to the warehouse to return to Alfea.

But first we get to see where she was camping!  In a little office in the warehouse. She brought a lot of stuff, bedding and pictures for the walls and everything.  She opens a notebook and we see that she was experimenting already, discovered she was fireproof, wondered if she had superpowers.  Then she senses something and looks out through an interior window into the rest of the warehouse.

Yikes! it’s a Burned One!

Bloom staggers back, trips, and drops Stella’s ring down a grate in the floor.

Bloom’s never heard of Burned Ones at this point but she knows a monster when she sees one.  She cowers, back to the wall. The Burned One breaks through the window and tries to grab her!

Bloom escapes into some kind of tunnel, I guess she opened the grate that the ring fell through?  It’s not totally clear.  There’s the ring, on the other side of a different grate or screen, Bloom can’t reach it, there’s lots of roaring, Bloom runs like hell!

And there’s Dowling!  She says, ‘don’t stop now.’ and gestures Bloom through the door back to the cemetery.  The door closes behind her.  Terra, Musa and Aisha are waiting to make sure Bloom’s ok. Bloom says the Burned One got the ring.

Stella, meanwhile, is on Sky’s bed when he comes out of the shower! Dressed, at least.

Sky is not interested.  “You can’t be here, Stell.  If Silva finds out-’   Sky goes for his trousers but Stella comes over and snuggles up to his bare back.  Sky is still not keen.  Seems Stella dumped him then went silent all summer and now she’s jumping in since he talked to Bloom.  Stella… comes out and says, “I got jealous. I did something really stupid.”  and she says, “I can’t sleep in a room where everybody hates me.”   For sending Bloom into danger to get home when that’s what Bloom wanted?  Not great, Stella, but hateworthy?  Did the girls all tell her they hate her or does Stella just think she’s an awful person?  And is Stella actually desperately unhappy or is she just trying to get in Sky’s pants?  Not sure what to take away from this.  Sky hugs Stella and tells her she’s better than she thinks she is.  

The others get back to the dorm and Aisha reassures Bloom that Dowling can take care of the Burned One.

Cut to Beatrix leaving her raid on the library with armfuls of books. She passed Riven, who’s smoking.  They say flirty things and Beatrix says she’s been “snorting the midnight adderall” to show that she’s a bad girl.  Riven offers her a puff but her hands are full of books so they do this almost-kiss so Riven can blow smoke into her mouth.  Erotic, also gross.  Is that a real thing people do? Riven asks Beatrix if she’s a first-year and she says “I’m lots of things” and walks off leaving Riven and the room he’s in, which has the most gorgeous arched windows with trees in them.  Is this place real?  It’s the same place the party was but now it’s night and these windows are glowing green with tree outlines in them. This has gotta be something the filmmakers added.

Pajama scene in the girls’ suite, Terra waters plants, Musa hops in bed with headphones on.  Terra does a needy little wave.  Musa reluctantly un-headphones.  Terra offers a speaker she borrowed from her brother so Musa can have her music without shutting other people out.

And I cringe so hard because just let people tune you out if they want! Communicate by whiteboard!  People not wanting to share doesn’t mean they hate you, it means they have their own thoughts they’re busy with!  Come on Terra, be better than your novelization self!

Musa calls Terra out on her fake-happy bullshit.  Musa can feel all of Terra’s insecurities and anger.  Seems like maybe empaths shouldn’t have to share a room!  What’s the range on mind reading?  How did Musa hit 16 without learning to tune stuff out or going mad?  But Musa says, ‘but if you want to know how I really feel...” and switches her music to a speaker, it’s guitar-y and nice.

Up in Dowling’s office, Silva says she should’ve killed the Burned One not left it chained up and knocked out in a shack outside the barrier.  Dowling needs to investigate this Burned One, see if there are more of them.  Then Dowling spills that Bloom is a changeling, from the time the last Burned One disappeared.  And she says, “Rosalind kept so much from us.  I’m worried about the students. The Alfea they know is very different from the one we attended.”  There’s something very “there was a war before” about the two of them.  Dowling may not be sus after all, though that may make her a terrible headmistress depending on how the next episodes go.

Montage of sleeping students.  Terra and Dane are texting.  Dane accidentally likes one of Riven’s sexy photos.  Riven’s pleased.  Sky and Stella are sharing a bed but after the last scene I can’t imagine they actually did anything.  Sky seemed pretty unseduceable.  

And outside a Mysterious Cloaked Figure passes through the barricade, finds the Burned One in the hut, and zaps it awake with lightning. It pushed back its hood… Beatrix!  So if she undid her too-tight braids she’d be Stormy?  So is Beatrix the villain?  I mean obviously she’s a villain but the threat of the Burned Ones feels... bigger than one teenager in Bratz clothes who has not got the presence of even one Trix much less all three wrapped up together.  But anyway she’ gets to be a doomful cloaked figure at the end of episode one.

Very pretty ending credits music. Listened to it several times.  I can’t understand the lyrics which is probably just as well.  Is it in irish or is it just sung in a way to not have clear lyrics?  C’mon fate, Irishness is a big thing you’ve got going for you, please milk it for all its worth!

I… I LIKED it!  Now my friends say future episodes get worse so I can’t get my hopes too high but this wasn’t awful.  None of the girls really had any vibe of their characters, only Bloom and Sky really look like Bloom and Sky.  The worldbuilding is lacking, I’m left with more questions than answers.

And oh god one episode was ten pages and about five hours.  I… I meant to do this with every episode but I’m not sure I can.  There’s so much to comment on it takes forever.  Maybe I’ll do each one in parts.  Or maybe I’ll abandon the writing and just watch the show like a normal person.  It’s a lot of fun to fine-toothed comb each scene but I’m’a be here forever!

[katsens-writing]

See You Again, Part 1

Summary: Peter’s current mission is starting to wear on him emotionally. Tony has a rough day.

Content: This part is emotional, angsty. Some language, alcohol/temptation to drink. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Word Count: About 2.9k

A/N: This story was inspired by a post I saw and an ensuing conversation I had. If you have not seen Far From Home yet, do not worry, this is spoiler-free. This part has a flashback within a flashback so apologies if it gets confusing! Thank you to @itsallavengers and @wisemanwhodoesntknow for the inspiration!

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     The cool night air blew gently past him. In spite of his suit, he could still feel it, and he closed his eyes, gently reveling in it. He opened his eyes with a sigh and looked out at the very familiar, yet somehow foreign city that lay out before him. He was in New York, perched atop the Brooklyn Bridge, looking across the river over at Manhattan. Upon landing on the bridge his eyes were immediately drawn toward the one building he always sought out among the skyline in every universe he visited. He didn’t even think about doing it anymore, it was as if his eyes were just drawn to it. The sight of it often brought him some comfort after a long night in an unfamiliar world and it had definitely been a long night tonight.

     He was told that the Spider-Man in this universe wouldn’t be in New York when he was there, but he was told he would need to wear his different suit anyway. When Fury first told him he would have to wear a different suit, he wasn’t surprised; he had already been expecting some kind of catch that would make him not like this mission.

     “Can’t you find someone else?” Peter asked Fury when the former director came to him. “Thor? Captain Marvel? Anyone?!”

     Fury explained to him why he couldn’t. He met Quentin Beck and listened to what he and Fury had to say. Fury even went so far as to mention his name. After they had finally finished, Peter looked Fury right in the eye.

     “I’m sorry,” he spoke, his voice firm. It took all he had to control his voice and keep it steady. His whole body was trembling with anger. He couldn’t believe Fury would dare use his name, trying to guilt trip him. “I can’t help you. You’ll have to find someone else.”

     He walked out of the warehouse unhindered and walked to the nearest block, wondering why he hadn’t grabbed his suit. He hailed a cab and gave the driver his address. Once he got back to his room, he found Ned sound asleep on his bed where he had put him after Fury had hit him with a knockout dart.

     Guess I’ll take the floor, he thought to himself. He grabbed one of the blankets off of Ned and snagged a dirty hoodie hanging off the end of his bed and dragged them to the floor. He shook out the blanket and balled up the hoodie before laying his head down on it. He pulled the blanket up to his shoulders and rolled onto his back, settling in.

     Just as he got comfortable, his eyes fell on something he had tucked up underneath his bed in the frame. He stuck his arm under it and tried pulling it out but it wouldn’t budge. He grabbed the frame of the bed with both hands and pulled himself toward it, sticking his head and shoulders under it. Using both hands, he managed to work the object out. He pulled himself out and sat up, holding a red, hardcover notebook in his hands. He gently brushed his fingers across the cover, clearing off the dust that had gathered, to reveal what had been engraved on the front of it in gold-foiled lettering. ‘Stark Internship Notebook’.

     He swallowed hard as he opened the book and flipped through the pages. He read through his old notes. Tony had given him the book to record anything he noticed about his suit and its upgrades so he could improve it. It ended up being half journal and half diary. Peter had used it to write down the description of criminals and villains he had encountered, as well as where he ran into them and what they were doing. Eventually, he started writing about the other people he had met too and the adventures he had. He hadn’t written in it since he came back from the Snap. He actually had forgotten about it until he had stumbled across it one day. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to open it, let alone write in it again, since then.

     Peter had closed the book out of guilt when he noticed the corner of something sticking out of it toward the front. He opened it to that page and found a photo of him and Mr. Stark that Aunt May had taken the day he met him. He remembered what Mr. Stark had asked him after he made it clear he knew he was Spider-Man.

     “Why do you do this?” Tony had asked him.

     After a moment, Peter looked Tony in the eye and answered. “When you can do the things that I can, but you don’t, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.”

     Peter blinked his eyes, fighting back tears as he looked at Stark Tower. “I’m doing it, Mr. Stark,” his voice cracked. “I’m doing what I can, but there isn’t much I can do. I just... I hope it’s enough.”

     Peter lowered his head and cried, his body wracked with sobs. He desperately wished he could talk to Tony, but he couldn’t. Quentin and Fury had warned him about interfering with the universes he visited. Changing even the slightest thing could doom the universe he was in. The way Quentin talked, that would be a best-case scenario. Because of that, Quentin and Fury wouldn’t tell him anything about the universes he visited beyond whether or not Spider-Man was there. It didn’t matter much anyway, Peter was never in one universe for more than a week or so. In spite of himself though, Peter was confused.

     “No interfering,” he scrunched his face, turning to Quentin. Something didn’t add up. “Isn’t that literally what you guys are planning on me doing?”

     Quentin had told him that he was only to observe and report anything that the monitors had picked up on. That was one of the other things that made this job really difficult- if he saw something bad happening, he couldn’t do a thing to stop it because he couldn’t be seen. He managed to find some ways around it, in spite of the risks. He witnessed a scrawny, drugged-out lowlife try and steal an elderly woman’s purse. He called out from the shadows, startling the guy into running off without the purse. Unable to step forward, he asked the woman if she was ok. Trembling, she just managed to nod before she turned and ran out of the alleyway herself, as scared as the would-be purse snatcher had been. It was a miracle Peter hadn’t given her a heart attack. He followed her from above, keeping to the darkened rooftops, making sure she made it to her destination safely. When he witnessed a mugging he anonymously alerted the police, hoping they would get there in time. It pained him, not being able to do more. He nearly slipped up a time or two but had managed to catch himself just in time.

     Another thing Peter didn’t like was the schedule. He was going out strictly at night and sleeping during the day to reduce his chances of being seen. Peter stayed and watched the tower until the sky started to lighten. He glanced at the bridge below and saw very few cars. He would need to go soon before the morning traffic picked up, but he couldn’t bear to leave just yet. He waited until it was light enough to see the outline of the tower before he flew down to the bridge below and made his way home. ‘Home’ in this case was a little motel in Brooklyn. Fury insisted he stay away from Manhattan and Queens as much as possible, to better avoid anyone from this universe who might know Peter Parker or Spider-Man. It was weird, feeling homesick for a place he was already in. As Peter settled into his bed for the day, he closed his eyes and did his best to tune out the noise of the city below and the police sirens in the distance.

- -

     Across the city, Tony Stark awoke to the smell of coffee filling his room. He blinked his eyes and rolled over with a soft groan.

     “Good morning, boss,” FRIDAY’s soft Irish lit filled his room. “You have a busy day today, two meetings this morning and three this afternoon. Your first meeting is at 8:15.”

     “Move it to 8:30,” Tony replied groggily.

     “Sure thing boss,” FRIDAY replied.

     Tony rolled over and every muscle in his body protested. He slowly sat up, prolonging every little ache and pain as he inched his legs further over the side of his bed and his feet stretched to the floor. He got up and shuffled over to his closet and found the suit he got from Pepper years ago that he wore to most of his meetings.

     “Would you like to hear the morning news, boss?” FRIDAY asked as he pulled the suit from his closet.

     “No,” Tony answered shortly. Most mornings he would listen to the news as he got dressed, or at least he used to. He hadn’t had much interest in the news at all for quite some time actually, beyond the business reports, and even those he hadn’t listened to in a few months. FRIDAY didn’t ask any more questions after that, sensing his mood. Tony finished getting dressed and grabbed the mug waiting for him at the coffee pot on his way out. Heading toward the door, he passed a mirror and saw out of the corner of his eye that he had forgotten a tie. He stopped and sat his coffee down with a sigh before walking back to his closet.

     He opened the little cabinet that held all his ties and cufflinks and skimmed over them. He pushed the layers of silk aside as he looked through them before glancing to his left at the small mirror there. Immediately he thought of the perfect tie... and quickly closed the cabinet with a frustrated sigh.

     Leaving all his ties behind, he walked to the kitchen and found it empty with a note on the fridge.

Off to work. Don’t forget your meetings today. There’s a fruit bowl in the fridge and some granola bars above the stove. See you at 1:00.

                                                                  Love you.

     Tony ignored the note and walked over to the kitchen island where he picked up the morning newspaper. Without so much as looking at the front headline, he walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the elevator, dropping the newspaper in a recycling can on the way.

     “Take me to the office, Fri,” he spoke after the elevator doors closed behind him. Without a word, the AI started the elevator toward the floor. Tony glanced at his watch and sighed again. 8:35. Oh well.

     The doors opened and he was greeted by the receptionist for the offices. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” she smiled a little too cheerfully.

     Tony mumbled a reply and placed his empty coffee mug in her outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. He walked into the conference hall and sat own for a presentation from some new upstart looking for an investor. The kid had some great ideas but he was only half-listening. Part of him felt guilty for not paying more attention. She was really enthusiastic, her tight curls bounced a little as she moved around. She had obviously put a lot of effort into every aspect of her presentation; triple checking her sources herself, researching her one-and-only audience member and tailoring it specifically to him, she even had a working model of one of their projects. Try as he might though, Tony just couldn’t bring himself to care. Once the girl concluded her presentation and her assistant had handed him the brochure and business card, giving him a few extra of each, Tony thanked them and said someone would be in touch shortly. He excused himself and left the girl and her assistant looking lost.

     Tony’s stomach grumbled but he didn’t notice as he headed for his next meeting, this one with the director of a charity. He walked into his office and found the director already sitting there.

     “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” she rose with a warm smile and extended her hand. “Marissa Kanick, from the New York City Fire Safety Foundation.”

     Tony forced a smile as he took her hand and shook it. “Nice to see you.”

     “I just wanted to come by and thank you personally for your donation,” she started as she sat down across from Tony.

     My donation? Tony thought as he sat down behind his desk. I thought I made that anonymously.

     “Your generosity has helped us replace so many fire escapes all throughout the city and enabled us to update the fire alarm systems in every public school in Brooklyn and half the ones in Queens,” the woman continued with a smile. “As a way of saying thank you, we wanted to invite you to a banquet we are hosting for our donors. You should have already received the email with all the details for the event, but I wanted to come by and ask you in person if you would like to be the guest of honor.” She raised a hand quickly, raising her eyebrows. She had obviously done this before. “You don’t have to decide now, it’s not for another several weeks. Just something to think about.”

     “Uh, thanks. I- I will. Think about it.” Tony managed to say as his blood pressure rose and his jaw clenched slightly.

     “Wonderful! I look forward to seeing you there either way,” the woman rose to her feet with another dazzling smile and extended her hand again.

     Tony shook it and watched as the woman turned and left. As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned around in his chair. “FRIDAY, email the charity, tell them I won’t be coming to the banquet.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

     “Yes, boss,” the AI replied dutifully. Tony leaned back in his chair and sighed. After a moment he pulled out his phone and checked it. A text from Harley that simply said ‘call me.’ Harley never wanted to talk, he always preferred texting and, when he did talk, it was never just to chat. Tony ignored the text and saw a missed call from Pepper. He felt a little guilty again, but he just didn’t have the energy right now. He would make it up to her later. The office was quiet once again, and Tony had assumed FRIDAY had returned to sleep mode, but he was wrong.

     “Boss, if I may,” she spoke up and Tony let out a groan. She continued before he had a chance to object. “You don’t seem to be yourself today. Are you feeling ok?” The AI knew what Tony would say- and she knew the truth of the matter too.

     “I’m fine, Fri,” Tony growled.

     “Boss, I think you should get some rest, especially if you’re planning on going out tonight,” FRIDAY pressed.

     “Yeah, I’ll do that,” Tony snarked dryly.

     “Perfect. I’ve taken the liberty of clearing your schedule. The rest of your meetings for the day have been rescheduled for next Tuesday. Goodnight, boss,” the AI chimed.

     “Wait, what?” Tony started, bewildered. “Fri. FRIDAY!” Tony shouted. The AI had gone too far. She never did anything with his schedule unless she was told to.

     “What the hell d--” he stopped as his thoughts drifted to his missed call from Pepper. “Never mind,” he growled. He stalked to the elevator. “Take me home.”

     When the doors slid open he stormed out and went straight to his home office. He threw himself in the chair with a sigh as the anger dissipated. He checked his phone and tossed it on the desk with a scoff. Five missed calls. The one from Pepper, one from Rhodey, one from Harley, one from Natasha and one from May. He turned away from his desk and faced the wall behind him, covered in photos, newspaper articles, and awards. None of them meant a damn thing, not a single one. His eyes came to rest on a bottle of whiskey that had been sitting there since the day he took over the company and the crystal tumbler sitting next to it.

     He stared at it for a long time, lost in thought. It had tempted him time and time again over the years. When he almost died during the invasion, when the team split up, when he learned the truth about his parents’ deaths, when they finally won against Thanos... but today? Today he wanted it. He wanted it so badly he could practically taste it, feel the slow burn as he swallowed the smooth, amber liquid. He closed his eyes tight and turned away. No. Not again. Never again. He picked up the bottle and dropped it in the trash beside his desk as he headed for his room.

     The doors slid open automatically as he walked in. Tony walked over to his bed and sat down on it, kicking off his shoes. He had one hell of a headache and the light shining through the window was not helping one bit.

     “FRIDAY, do something about the light, would you?” he asked as he pulled his legs up onto the bed with a groan. “And tell Pepper not to wake me.”

     “Yes, boss,” FRIDAY answered, her lilt soothing to Tony’s ears as the windows tinted. Tony closed his eyes and settled into his bed, still dressed except for his shoes.

     “Goodnight, boss,” FRIDAY spoke softly as Tony drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

--- Next part   Masterlist   Buy me a coffee?

Taglist: (If you want to be added, just send me a message, it’s no trouble at all!) @xmarveled @parkerspicedlatte @myworstdays @bla-369

[abutterflyscribbles]

Generous Billionare

Based on the post about sending rich people wedding invitations in hopes that the secretary will send a gift without actually checking if the rich people know you

Sunny Elfsley never expected to be a billionaire.

As a college graduate weighted down with student debt and trying to raise money to record his own songs through a kickstarter, Sunny had never expected more than maybe being able to pay the rent on time someday. The only possible way he could imagine coming into a windfall was if maybe someone hit him with their car and had to settle generously. After long, long weekends working retail the idea of being laid up with half of his bones broken sounded almost irresistibly restful.

That Eve Day of Daylight Toiletries, who had started a small business making cotton swabs and worked it up to an international supplier of swabs, cotton balls, eyeglasses cleaning products, moist towelettes, and facial wipes, was even in the same gene pool as Sunny was never a possibility. Yet somehow she was from the same melting pot of family lineage as him. From the Irish branch that had fled the potato famine and ended up in Mexico. Somehow Eve and Sunny’s family trees could be traced back to those Irish refugees before splintering off and being absorbed into Mexico and the United States. The end result for Sunny was being the son of a Hispanic mother and African American father and inheriting a face-ful of vivid freckles.

An army of lawyers had summoned Sunny to an office building so upper-class he was afraid if he wasn’t careful he’d be arrested for being too near it. Instead he was told that upon the death of Eve Day he now owned it.

His first response to this was the thought that he could afford both food and new guitar strings that week.

His second thought was that he could afford to be a a hip hop star even if nobody actually bought his music.

Five years later his dream of making it big with his guitar had faded away to the memory of a youthful dream. The demands of running, heck, of even understanding, a billion dollar business had slammed him right into the floor and bounced him off a few walls. By the time he got his footing his was wearing tailored suits, had cut his hair, and had changed his name to Sunny Day to help with the company’s image. He was the rags-to-riches poster boy with the baby-face that you just had to trust.

Sunny wasn’t sure if he was happy about any of that. Or happy in general. He was too busy most of the time to consider things like happiness. Sometimes he stumbled upon the odd five minutes in a day where he would feel himself disassociating from reality and float out of his body to watch the back of his own head and wonder if anything was real.

During one such session he happened to glance away from watching his own back--he had been wondering what the board would say if he grew out his hair--and saw one of his personal assistants tidying away a file full of cards. He watched his hand idly reach out and pick up one of the cards. It was a wedding invitation.

He snapped back into his body with a sharp jolt. He didn’t have much family around, but surely they would have contacted him directly about a wedding or other family thing.

The names of the couple weren’t familiar. He grabbed another card. Not anyone he knew either. He looked up at his assistant in confusion.

“Do I know these people?”

“No, sir,” Pare replied, “Some people just like sending famous people wedding invites for kicks. Like, the queen of England, or football players. Nothing you have to worry about.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sunny laid down the cards and started to turn his thoughts back to the business of the day. But he paused and looked at the cards again. “Do we ever send replies?”

“Nope. Just file them.”

“Um. What if we . . .” Sunny picked up another card. It was cheap. Bought off a shelf in the craft aisle of a hobby store probably. There was a link included for an online registry. Sunny pulled up the link on his phone. Most of the requests were incredibly modest. The bride wanted a guitar.

“Pare? Buy them everything on their list. Then send them, um, I dunno, a really good sound system.”

“Wait, did a real invite get mixed in there?”

“Never heard of them in my life. Pare, I own three private jets. I can afford to buy out the wedding registries for ten--for a hundred couples.”

“But why?”

“Because I can? I guess? Buy out all the registries for the weddings that haven’t happened yet. Uh, hm . . . send some sort of super pricey gift basket to everyone we missed. Do that from now on. I get an invite you send an apology and the most expensive thing on the registry. And flowers.”

Sunny’s heart was pounding and for once it wasn’t from stress. It was exciting, playing Santa. He remembered his kickstarter that never got kick-started. He had the money to buy a recording company now. There were thousands of college graduates out there wishing somebody would toss them a few dollars for a dream. And Sunny had a few dollars. Right now he could go down to the subway and toss a thousand dollars cash into a busker’s open guitar case. He could surprise-cater breakfast for a store full of weary retail workers. They’d appreciate it more than any conference room full of businessmen ever would.

Sunny had always done the usual scholarships and donations to hospitals and community centers, but he’d never thought of being able to just do that sort of stuff directly. It was wild. It was fun.

It was lonely.

Some weeks later he was looking through the newest batch of wedding invitations. He found one that was absolutely encrusted with glitter and had turned the whole stack of cards sparkling. It made him smile. It was handmade and extremely cute.

A note fell out of it.

Dear Mr. Day, 

I am the sister of the bride and am sending this invitation to you without her knowledge, so if you think I’m pushy don’t blame her, please! My sister and her husband-to-be have been though some rough times and are finally recovering thanks to each other and their love. Things aren’t perfect yet and I was hoping that you might be able to give them a hand. It doesn’t have to be big, anything would help. They deserve a break. Thank you, I hope you’re doing well!

love,

Dawn

PS Come to the wedding! The music is going to be TERRIFIC

PPS Whenever I see you in ads I think you’re super cute!

This was the first time Sunny had been invited invited.

It was exciting, for some reason.

He buzzed for Pare to come in and tossed him the invitation. “What have I got going on that day? Cancel it. I’m got to attend a wedding.”

[frighthouseofalighthouse]

All weird asks!! They're so good!

Sorry this is a bit late, babe! I wanted to wait til I had the opportunity to answer all these uninterrupted!

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Coffee mugs! tbh I drink tea out of coffee mugs because who actually uses teacups? I mean my grandma has tons and I would use them, but the handles are so tiny and I am v clumsy so it scares me.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars!!! I’m too impatient for lollipops and plus they always get coated in saliva which just...drips down my chin since my mouth is already full.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Bubblegum! I love cotton candy but I can only handle a bit at a time tbh. Also I haven’t had bubblegum in almost two years bc of braces and I miss it so much I can’t wait to have it again.

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Okay, so even though I’ve always been homeschooled, when I was in elementary school we did this program with a ton of other homeschoolers where you could take actual classes and stuff. My teachers always said I was quiet and focused and studious, and you could always count on me to be lecturing everyone else on the instructions if they hadn’t been paying attention. (does any of that surprise anyone?)

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? GLASS SODA BOTTLES. nothing beats soda that’s been bottled in glass rather than plastic. You ever had orange cream soda from a glass bottle????? SLAPS ASS MY DUDE.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Pastel/boho/preppy/goth, my dude. I have so many sides to my fashion and aesthetic.

7. earbuds or headphones?

EARBUDS BC HEADPHONES NEVER FIT OVER MY EARS RIGHT. BUT EARBUDS WITH SOFT TIPS BECAUSE MY EARS ARE TOO SMALL FOR THE PLASTIC ONES.

8. movies or tv shows?

Tv shows tbh because even though I can binge 4 eps of 45 minutes each per night, they’ll hold my attention a lot more than a movie. It’s weird.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Thunderstorms/petrichor, also natural bogs. PEAT BOG SMELL FUCKING SLAPS.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

None. I liked trampoline time back when we took gymnastics, if that counts. I also liked jump roping and Irish step dancing.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Nothing lmao. I sleep til like noon and then I microwave something for lunch.

12. name of your favorite playlist?

My catchall playlist, Things I Love, my summer playlist, Summer Songs, my Gryffindor playlist, My Queen And Country playlist for writing, and my playlist for The Raven Cycle. (after I post this I’ll edit it and link them)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Keyring, a lanyard would like constantly detract from my outfit if that makes sense???

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Sour Patch Kids or Swedish Fish.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

Between The Grapes Of Wrath, The Great Gatsby, The Handmaid’s Tale, and To Kill A Mockingbird!

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Just fucking sprawled every which way.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

My grey converse if it’s comfortable out, my silver flip flops if it’s hot, and my fur-lined black combat boots if it’s cold.

18. ideal weather?

65-70 degrees, partly sunny, breezy, not humid.

19. sleeping position?

I need to sprawl to fall asleep, but once I’m asleep I curl up into a little ball.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Laptop and notebook ONLY IF I’m sure of myself, which isn’t often. But I do write dense, scribbled paragraphs on sermon note pages if something comes to me during church lmao.

21. obsession from childhood?

The American Revolution, weather, astronomy, and mysteries/ghost stories.

22. role model?

Idk tbh? Lately I’m just trying to define and live up to my own standards?

23. strange habits?

Pulling the collar of my shirt up to my mouth and sucking on it. Also being a perfectionist in my writing. I don’t do messy drafts. It’s all perfect by the time I write it, and I edit/spellcheck as I go.

24. favorite crystal?

Amethyst (my birthstone), bismuth, opal, and blue goldstone.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Other than nursery rhymes/kid’s songs, it was Light Up The Sky by The Afters, or California Dreamin’ by The Mamas And The Papas.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Find shade/a cool spot and read with a cold drink.

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

ALSO READ. And snuggle with thick socks and a cup of tea and play DS games all day.

28. five songs to describe you?

My five faves atm -

I Am Here // Pink

The Pines // Roses and Revolutions

Soldier, Poet, King // The Oh Hellos

Traveler’s Song // Aviators

Hymn // Kesha

29. best way to bond with you?

Share my interests about politics, history, books, true crime, paranormal, tv shows, and also be kind and understanding when I don’t text for long periods bc I don’t feel up to talking.

30. places that you find sacred?

The woods on the hill behind my house. Dense, deeply green, secluded woods. Hedge mazes. Old and crumbling castles. Anywhere beneath a clear sky and a full moon. Your heart when you’ve come to terms with your fears and made peace with yourself. Anyplace with historical significance. Bookstores on an autumn/winter day. Libraries.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

A kickass plaid, bruh. Also my leather jacket - once I lose enough shoulder weight to fit in it again.

32. top five favorite vines?

Fre shavoc ado, the one where the dog eats the butterfly, the Lin-Manuel Miranda one where he’s brainstorming, “what the FUCK kind of weather is this, and the dad and son with the saxophone and the oven door.

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“oh mood”

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

“WOW! It’s NatureStone!”

35. average time you fall asleep?

Right now it’s 4-5 am because I suck.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

I Can Haz Cheezburger, My mom used to look at the website with me when I was like 10.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

They both have pros and cons. :/ Duffel bags are easier to carry but suitcases keep stuff from getting broken better.

38. lemonade or tea?

TEAAAAAAAAAAAA

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon meringue pie!!! my stepdad made a really good one the other week.

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Nothing, since I was homeschooled. Same weird shit that always happens at home. Our safe word for when I got overwhelmed in math was “quokka” and we’d stop and look at cute quokka pictures.

41. last person you texted?

My gf :)

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

Jacket pockets because things are not only hard to fit in girls’ pants pockets, but if you put a chapstick/lipstick in there it starts to melt :(

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

BETWEEN HOODIE AND CARDIGAN. SO VERSATILE. SO COMFY.

44. favorite scent for soap?

Irish Spring soap or the blue Dial bars smells better and cleaner than anything to me.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy. It can take me a bit to get into it, but once I do, I love it. I only do sci-fi if it has rebellion and isn’t heavy on the sci. And superhero movies are great but a lot of the tropes are meh. Fantasy has a lot more versatility if you ask me.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Sweatpants/leggings and a soft, well worn tee.

47. favorite type of cheese?

Parmesan, white cheddar, or Muenster.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Raspberry!

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“do no harm but take no shit.”

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

A really poorly edited political ad on tv a couple years ago. There was weird jazz playing, flames in the background of an image of the Capitol Building, and then the top of the dome opened and this guy’s face was inside. It is the single funniest ad I have ever seen and I laughed for 10 minutes so hard I was like an inch away from passing out.

51. current stresses?

Passing my driving test next month, getting a job, figuring out if my math skills are okay enough to take the SAT or an equivalent test.

52. favorite font?

Baskerville or Georgia!

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My fingernails are short bc I picked them while reading earlier, my cuticles suck bc I pick at those two, and my pinky is obliterated and scabbed because of when I accidentally sliced through the nail with a razor while shaving the other day. So, not great, but I’m living.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

That kids can be really annoying but also really cute and hilarious if you can get them to calm down. And also that baby fingernails are surprisingly sharp.

55. favorite fairy tale?

The OG Princess and the Frog where it’s implied the prince and “faithful Henry,’ his carriage driver, fall in love and ride off together at the end. JACOB AND WILHELM GRIMM SAID GAY RIGHTS.

56. favorite tradition?

Every December, my mom and I drive around after dark at night and I play Pokemon and we rate everyone’s Christmas decorations based on tackiness.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

So isolated I was as a preteen/early teenager, my self harm, and the internalized anger over my abusive relationship and PTSD.

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Writing, puzzle solving, singing, and calligraphy.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Benvoli-no.” (I recently remembered I used to say that a lot and I need to bring it back)

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Dark, fairy tale anime with a lot of secrets to uncover and some dark woods.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

TV show - “I am the Bad Wolf. I create myself.” - Doctor Who

Movie - “It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. And I believe in love.” - Wonder Woman

Book - “If you never saw the stars, candles were enough.” - The Dream Thieves, by Maggie Stiefvater

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dean Winchester - Supernatural

Sam Winchester - Supernatural

Jack Kline Winchester - Supernatural

Charlie Bradbury - Supernatural

Gansey - The Raven Cycle

Blue Sargent - The Raven Cycle

Hermione Granger - Harry Potter

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Final Song // MO

Call Home // Heathers

I Am Here // Pink

Babylon // 5 Seconds of Summer

Shake It Off // Taylor Swift

64. favorite website from your childhood?

WEBKINZ AND THE OLD AMERICAN GIRL WEBSITE

65. any permanent scars?

Yes, I have several that remain from self harm, scars all over my left knee from being a clumsy child, and most of all a major scar down the center of my chest from heart surgery when I was a baby.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Rose, lavender, lilac, and dahlia.

67. good luck charms?

Not really???

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Olives, mushrooms, radishes, cottage cheese, and ranch dressing are all foul.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Martin Luther didn’t actually nail his 95 theses to the church door, he just kind of passed them around, which is a lot less dramatic tbh. Also light-up signs were first used in New York City in 1884.

70. left or right handed?

I’m left-handed!

71. least favorite pattern?

I think zebra stripes, leopard print, and houndstooth are super ugly.

72. worst subject?

Math for sure. Even science would be easier if it didn’t involve so much math.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

Wendy’s fries and chocolate frosty!!!

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

I think a 7, usually. My pain tolerance is pretty high because of a) years of self harm, and b) due to my PTSD my muscles are constantly tense and in pain anyway.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I was 4, and it had been loose but it fell out when I was trying to blow up an inflatable ball.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Fries or roasted potatoes that are charred and crunchy on the bottom. Chips are a close third.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

Idk, my grandma’s the one with the green thumb mania lmao. But She keeps a lot of violets and arrowhead plants in the windowsills!

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

NEITHER I HATE BOTH COFFEE AND SUSHI IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

Never had a school ID, but my temporary license photo is actually pretty good right now!

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

I really like earth tones for myself.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

THEY ARE THE SAME MF THING. Also I call them both, it just depends on what comes out of my mouth haha.

82. pc or console?

PC, I guess, though I don’t really game. I just watch my stepdad game.

83. writing or drawing?

WRITING. I cannot draw to save my life.

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts, talk radio is so annoying.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie, although I loved both.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology I guess??? Although again, I love both.

86. cookies or cupcakes?

COOKIESSSSS

87. your greatest fear?

Rejection, losing people I love, people secretly hating me. Also drowning, spiders, clowns, and guns.

88. your greatest wish?

To be a semi-successful author and work in a library/museum.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom and my gf.

90. luckiest mistake?

Almost dropping a knife blade first on my foot but it landed between my toes.

91. boxes or bags?

um boxes I guess? I’m really good at fitting things in tetris style.

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

FAIRY LIGHTS AND DIM YELLOW LAMPS.

93. nicknames?

Ell, Alexander, Ellie, Little Lion, and Nerd.

94. favorite season?

FALL FALL FALL FALL

95. favorite app on your phone?

Tumblr or Spotify. Two apps I couldn’t live without.

96. desktop background?

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

About a half dozen. Mine, my mom’s, my stepdad’s, my grandparents’ home number, my grandpa’s, and my grandma’s.

98. favorite historical era?

Both the American Revolutionary period and the Victorian Era (esp in Britain)

THANK YOU LOVE THIS WAS SUPER FUN

[taxesdeathtrouble]

so! about that hogwarts au

im gonna get housing/birth status (??? whats the word for that) done right off the bat

alex is a slytherin, as stated in my previous post (i’m gonna put it in the same tag: hogwarts au)

Molly is a Gryffindor, through and through. the second it was placed on her head the hat was yelling

Chase is a Hufflepuff, which i know is controversal but it boils down to boy needs a hug and people who care about him and he gets that in Hufflepuff

Nico is also a Hufflepuff and I’m right. her sisters one too but thats not my main reasoning my main reasoning is that she’s really loyal and a fucking awesome friend and she’ll go to great lengths to protect the people she loves. 

Karolina is a Gryffindor, but she was also a hatstall because she really really wanted Hufflepuff because her mother drilled it into her that it’s the only truly good house but the hat sees her potential and puts her in with the lions and she ends up ruling them all through her kindness and how willing people are to follow her

Gert is a Ravenclaw, she was a hatstall too but she really didn’t want to be Slytherin (’not that there’s anything wrong with Slytherin it’s a great house’ but it’s just not what I want’)

So Chase and Karolina are purebloods (well, chase is. karolina’s dad is secretly a mythical being but she doesn’t even know he exists so thats for another time) nico is a halfblood (me mum’s a witch. dad’s a muggle. bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out) gert is a pureblood that doesn’t know she’s a pureblood because her mother died when she was three-four and she barely remembers her- she has dreams sometimes where she’s flying on a broomstick with a dark haired woman who’s face she can’t see. the moon is bright, and they are both laughing in joy. she got adopted by the Yorkes, a well meaning muggle scientist couple who make fast friends with their new neighbors, the Hernandezes, a pair of wizards with a child of their own. when Gert is seven and starts making the flowers in the backyard grow like crazy and begins to float down the stairs every morning, Gene and Alice spill the beans that she’s probably a witch and explain about the wizarding world. they give them Neville Longbottom’s card because they’re personal friends (he and gene go to the same bookstore a lot and are kind of buddies) and he explains about the wizarding world and hogwarts and gives gert a bunch of books about their history which leads to an obsession with Hermione. Neville checks in a few times and Gert chatters nonstop and Neville is like ‘i know her, actually’ and Gert screams. anyways Molly gets adopted by the Yorkes when her parents are killed by a mysterious accident and she’s not a pureblood because her family was never obsessed with that purity bullshit but it does make her family tree kind of...........spotty, and other relatives hard to find.

now, on to the good stuff aka Plot

- the five of them meet near the beginning of first year

- gert and chase are friends first because they meet on the train

- by the way this is going to be gertchase heavy dont @ me

- so anyways they meet on the train, and gert sees this very pretty boy sitting alone in a compartment as she walks the length of the train looking for a place to sit for the trip

- and he looks really sad. this is because ten minutes before boarding the train his father had just finished a long, self righteous lecture on why he should ask the hat to be in Gryffindor because ‘that’s what house i was in and you should be like me’ which is the last thing Chase wants.

- ‘hey, mullet, mind if i sit?’ gert asks, flouncing in and plopping down without waiting for an answer, and chase, who’s never been called a mean name by a peer in his life, and certainly never by someone this pretty, is flabbergasted.

- ‘excuse me? i do not have a mullet’ by the way chase is british gert is irish the others i dont care as much but these are the ones i’m attached to because i’m writing something else where that’s their nationalities

- ‘uh, yeah you do, mate. the name’s gert.’ she sticks out her hand, and it’s covered in scribbles. chase takes it hesitantly, and says, ‘uh. my name is chase stein.’

- gert spends that entire first year trying to get him to stop acting like he’s a grandmother at tea time and talk like a normal kid because he’s literally never hung out with anyone his age before

- the way the rest of them became friends: gert decimates alex at gobstones, alex is friends with nico, nico is friends with chase because #puffsolidarity and karolina is friends with gert from like, day two of their first year when they both got detention (the story of which they will Never Tell) (they conspired together to let the frogs from the transfiguration course escape) (they got two weeks detention)

- when chase gets sorted into hufflepuff, he cries. years later, he still doesn’t know why.

- chase develops a big crush on gert in their third year, which is also around the time she decides she’s going to be an animagus (alex told her she couldn’t do it and she got so pissed at him they didn’t talk for a month but it did start her on that path so she’s not super mad anymore) 

- so for about a month she’s being secretive as hell and won’t talk, which she comes up with a variety of reasons for, ranging from ‘i’ve taken a break from talking so you all remember how funny i am’ to ‘i have a debilitating non life threatening illness so i can’t talk until the month is over even if i wanted to’

- chase totally calls bullshit, and he’s kind of upset with her because he JUST figured out he’s likes her and now she won’t even talk?

- when she finally becomes an animagus she doesn’t tell anyone because it’s technically illegal but the first thing she says to anyone is ‘hey, mullet, pass the eggs,’ to chase (because he’s thirteen and still has the mullet although she’s probably going to be calling him that even when they’re married) and he cries. she’s like ‘woah what’s wrong?!?’ and he says through tears ‘you’re (sob sob) talking to me (sob sob) again (sob sob)’ but he gets a hug out of it so the ribbing from the guys on the quidditch team is worth it

- speaking of quidditch

- oh wait right gert’s animagi form is a kitty cat which she’s pissed about because she wanted something badass but nope she’s a fluffy calico with glasses markings around the eyes (and a purple tuft when she dies her hair)

- anyways quidditch

- gert and chase are both on their respective teams, gert is a beater and chase is a chaser (haha) and later on they become captains

- nico is the announcer for the games and a common theme is her dramatically making fun of their sexual tension/basically being a couple without being a couple bullshit

- ‘oh and there goes yorkes hitting stein with the bludger again, now, we have to wonder how bad their little lovers quarrel was’ 

- in fourth year, there’s the tournament and the yule ball

- karolina gets picked to represent hogwarts, and she doesn’t win but she still ‘loved the experience!’

- she takes nico to the ball, and that’s how they get together it’s really cute

- so obviously chase was planning to ask gert to the ball

- but he gets nervous and waits too long, and he’s literally mid sentence about to ask her when this girl from Beauxbatons (abby, if you’ve read one of my previous fics) waltzes up all cool and asks Gert straight up ‘will you go to the ball with me?’

- gert looks at chase first, just for a second, then says, ‘of course!’ because she really didn’t think anyone would ask her and abby is really really pretty and nice

- so gert looks gorgeous the night of 

- she’s wearing this long, shimmery dress, and her long, dark hair is in ringlets, and chase is enamoured

- she asks his opinion first, because best friends and all

- gert: so what do you think?

chase, completely heartbroken that he’s not taking her to this dance but trying to be cool: you look nice :) 

- gert thinks hes being insincere tho and it kind of hurts her feelings

- the dance is fine until gert goes to get her and abby drinks and abby is making out with someone random and gerts heart breaks in two

- she runs out of the ballroom in tears, and chase, who’s been sitting at a table all night completely ignoring his date, to her annoyance, sees her leave. he immediately gets up and goes after her, and finds her crying her eyes out in an empty classroom

- ‘hey’ he says, sitting down next to her. ‘hi,’ she says, voice cracking, and he wraps his arms around her and she presses her face into his chest as she cries.

- and then she starts rambling. ‘so i just saw abby kissing on some other girl, and i mean, i knew this was too good to be true, but i didn’t want to believe it, you know? i was just happy someone wanted to take me, but i should’ve known when she kept calling me beautiful. liars don’t make good dates.’

- ‘what? gert, you’re, um, you’re beautiful’

- ‘pfft yeah right i know you think so, sure-’

- chase holds her face in his hands in a rare moment of fourteen year old boldness and says ‘gert. you’re gorgeous’

- ‘o-oh’

- he seems to realize what he’s doing and pulls away, and they don’t talk about it after, but gert gets the beginning of a crush that day.

- so fifth year

- gert and chase don’t see each other all summer, because gert’s parents drag her and molly to america for research, which is where gert meets tandy and ty, super cool american wizards and she posts a picture with one of them on insta and Chase gets mega jealous even if he doesn’t say anything

- gert cuts and dyes her hair with tandy and molly’s help but keeps it a secret so she can surprise him

- they text more than call because chase’s voice is in the midst of dropping and he’s embarassed

- and the whole summer he’s bored as hell so he just goes to the gym every day

- and he finally gets a good hairstyle

- so that first day at the train station gert sees him and literally doesn’t recognize him

- who is this broad-shouldered, deep-voiced beauty standing beside her? and staring at her like he can’t believe what he’s seeing?

- ‘gert?’ ‘oh my god, chase? you look............so different. so what do you think? of my hair, i mean.’ her brain’s a little wonky. chase is so attractive, what the fuck

- he reaches over and winds his finger around a curl. ‘it’s really pretty.’ his voice is soft and to her ears, intimate, and oh, fuck you, hormones, this is the last type of reaction she wants to be having to this.

- she blushes really red and chase is like hmmm this is new

- that whole year there’s something different underlying everything. they spend a lot more time alone, doing homework together or going out on their broomsticks or splitting off from the group when they go to hogsmeade

- coincidentally, they both also make prefect that year, and through a lot of twisting schedules around by the kids (nico and karolina make prefect and there’s a few other interhouse relationships so gert and chase get paired up) they do patrols together

- and there’s a metric fuckton of flirting

- they also start playing dumb magic pranks on each other around this time, so often one of them will show up to breakfast with green hair or galaxy freckles

- chase did the freckles to piss her off but, oh no, she looks so cute, this isn’t fair

- fifth year is also when gert’s anxiety starts to get bad, so there are a lot of nights where she roams the castle in cat form, still kind of pissed about the tuft of purple that sticks up

- on one of these nights, chase can’t sleep. and i mean really can’t sleep. so he puts on the little device he wired up to make teachers not notice him because im lazy and cant think of anything else and heads down to him favourite alcove where he can look up at the moon and the snow falling and just think.

- gert comes across him, still in cat form, and she still hasn’t told him, or anyone, that she’s an animagus, so she considers just walking away, but then chase sees her and is picking her up and babytalking at her and oh, this is so cute, she can’t leave now

- so she settles in his lap and he starts petting her, saying, ‘you’re so soft, yes you are, pretty girl, yes you are,’ because ya know. he thinks hes talking to a cat.

- and then he just starts rambling about his issues and hes kind of maybe vaguely talking about ‘this girl’ (gert) and he doesnt say that he likes her but if you listen closely its clear, and okay, gert needs to transform back now or she’ll fall asleep, and she’s been meaning to tell chase anyways.

- so she changes back and oh, she didn’t think this through, because she’s sitting in his lap in her- oh, shit- pyjama shorts and tank top and no bra, what the fuck was she thinking?

- chase screams, and gert slaps her hand over his mouth so they don’t get caught. ‘are you done?’

- chase is wide eyed as he nods, and gert takes her hand off his mouth.

- ‘so. you’re an animagus, right?’ ‘yeah’ ‘how long?’ ‘remember that time in third year when alex said i wouldn’t be able to do it and we fought?’ ‘oh my god’

- his arm settles around her waist, fingers brushing against bare skin where her shirt has ridden up, and they’re both staring at each other and thinking ‘what if we made out right now’

- but then they hear a loud banging noise and jump to their feet, running back down the hallway. gert turns into a cat midstep, and chase whisper-shouts ‘that is SO not fair!’

- they make it back to their respective common rooms, just barely, and neither of them are able to sleep the entire night because of what almost happened between them

- at the end of the year, at the train station, they share a very long hug and promise to see each other over the summer. their friends are definitely making fun of them in the background

- near the start of sixth year they’re still doing patrols together, and one night, out of the blue, chase kisses her. they end up making out for like, an hour, then go back to their dorms smiling their asses off

- but guess what? they’re idiots. so they don’t get together right then

- they don’t actually talk about it. but every night they’re on patrol together, guess who’s ignoring their duties to make out in some dark corner? them

- but during the day they’re kind of ignoring each other and everyone is so sick of it so one day nico shoves them into the room of requirement (which she definitely found really early on in her hogwarts career- hufflepuffs are particularly good finders, after all) to force them to talk to each other and locking the door.

- they kind of just stand their awkwardly for a minute until gert is like ‘wanna make out’ and chase, being chase, says yes

- so they do that for a while, and there’s a couch in this nondescript room because story reasons, so it gets a little pg-13 up in the room of requirement if you know what i’m saying

-but chase gets hit with this wave of i wish she was my girlfriend why isn’t she my girlfriend what are we doing and stops kissing her. he’s so tempted to just dive back in, just from how she’s looking right now, but he really, really needs to say something.

- ‘look, gert, i want you to know.........i have feelings for you. there, i said it. and i’m not comfortable with just messing around when i care about you so much- mph!” 

- Gert cuts him off with a kiss. she pulls back, and says, ‘I like you too, mullet.’ and then they make out some more and when they come out of the room of requirement their entire friend group is waiting outside the door with Bertie Botts and chocolate frogs waiting to see the results and they come out holding hands and everyone starts cheering dramatically, like, ‘FINALLY, AFTER SIX YEARS, I KNOW PEACE!’

- and they all live happily ever after the end

[anakinsbugs]

The Blogfather

New Post has been published on https://walrusvideo.com/the-blogfather/

The Blogfather

He wasn’t an Arsenal fan, but he was at the 1971 FA Cup final. I wasn’t born yet (I didn’t arrive until September of that double winning year), but he saw Charlie George score that winner and lie flat on his back on the Wembley turf to celebrate.

Like so many of his generation, he came to England from Ireland to find work in the late 1950s, and I’m sure my love of football came from him. There was always a ball, always a kick-around in the garden, or on the front lawn of the castle we lived in for a while (honestly, it was a castle).

Back then you could just go to a football match. Rock up on a Saturday, and pay your way into the ground depending on who was at home. He lived and worked in West London, and nominally he was a Fulham fan. He loved Johnny Haynes, but he was a huge admirer of Jimmy Greaves too. He liked players who could do things with both feet, and he went to matches all over the city, just because he could.

Some of my earliest memories are of him playing football. He started life as a forward (like my brother), but by the time I came along and he was togging out for the village team in Bishopthorpe (near York), he’d moved back to centre-half (where I played my whole life). I’d stand on the sidelines with my mam. I don’t remember the games or the performances, just the fact that I was there and so was he.

..

He was pretty strict when we were young. I think it was because he had very clear ideas about what young men should and shouldn’t do. They should look smart, for example, and definitely not wear jeans. They really shouldn’t watch Grange Hill, because those children were basically juvenile delinquents and didn’t respect figures of authority sufficiently.

He worked a lot though, so it was often drive-by stuff. He spent most his working life in the hospitality industry – bars, restaurants, hotels. Long hours, late nights.

Once, in the back garden, I was winding my brother up, as big brothers do. He reached breaking point and unleashed a wave of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. Dad, probably trying to get a bit of rest upstairs, heard everything, stuck his head out the bedroom window and it was the most trouble any little boy has ever been in before or since. I felt bad, and I bought Tim some Cadbury’s Creme Eggs to say sorry.

..

In 1996 he was away on a golf trip in Spain and fell ill. Cardiomyopathy. The prognosis was not good. He needed a heart transplant. In the mists of time it feels like it happened quickly, but it didn’t. He spent months and months gravely unwell, in and out of hospital, but in the end they took his actual heart out and put someone else’s in.

It’s basically a miracle, isn’t it?

When you think about it, it’s absolutely crazy, but as I said at his eulogy, it changed his life and it saved his life. He became a fierce advocate for organ donation. He helped found the Irish Heart and Lung Transplant Association, and he went onto to chair the European Heart and Lung Transplant Federation. He wanted to ensure as many people as possible could benefit from the incredible medical advancements, and the work carried out by doctors and transplant teams.

As you might imagine, that kind of thing gives you a new perspective on life. He was certainly mellower post-transplant, but it coincided with us reaching a stage of adult life where your relationship with your parents changes anyway. We did a lot of stuff together. Golf, pints, dinners, holidays, even the Arsenal.

I don’t know if the trip we took to London was specifically to see a game, or if it coincided with something else, but he came with me to the Emirates to see us play in the Champions League. We played PSV and a late goal from on-loan Chelsea defender Alex saw us crash out. Not exactly a stellar night on the pitch, but it was still a good one off it. We had post-game pints in The Tollington, he met many of the Arseblog crew, and he often talked about how much he enjoyed it.

He loved Arseblog and what it became. He’d read most days. He’d say ‘Some of those chaps on the Arses are a bit fruity, aren’t they?!’.  He even listened to a podcast, impressed and somewhat astonished with how often, and with such variation, Ian Wright said my name.

..

He hadn’t been well for a couple of weeks. I took him to the doctors on February 1st. She told me she was worried about his kidneys. Years of anti-rejection and immuno-suppressant drugs take their toll. Blood test results came back that afternoon. He needed to be in hospital.

I remember him waving to us from the ambulance before it pulled away, his big overcoat pulled tightly around him on a cold evening. Over the next couple of weeks he was treated for the infection, he was getting there, but slowly.

On Monday February 15th I got a phone call from a doctor. He’d been unwell, so they ran more tests. One of them was for Covid-19. It came back positive. We spent a year doing everything we could to keep him safe during the pandemic, and somehow he picked it up in the Coronary Care Unit of a hospital.

Yet over the next week, he didn’t really develop any of the major symptoms. On Monday February 22nd he called from his bed, we spoke about him coming home. He couldn’t wait to get back to his chair, in front of the fire, to watch golf and CNN. We wondered how strong he’d be, what care he might need. How we might have to adapt the house. Downstairs bedroom, stairlift, that kind of thing.

Then … day 10. Covid hit.

Did you ever get winded? It’s scary, isn’t it? Those few seconds where you can’t catch your breath. Imagine that all the time. He needed oxygen, then more oxygen, then all the oxygen it’s possible to give someone.

We were lucky in that we were allowed in to see him. We got to talk to him. That will always be a comfort, but seeing your dad on his own in a six bed ward, surrounded by and attached to machines, struggling to breathe is brutal. You want to help somehow, but you can’t.

We were clad in so much PPE, gown, masks, goggles, gloves, that he thought we were doctors at first. Maybe that’s why he told ‘them’ he didn’t want to die in hospital.

He died in hospital … in the early hours of March 2nd.

He’d been through so much. The heart transplant, he beat a lung cancer situation, he had an ongoing prostate cancer situation, but he couldn’t beat this. He was 84 and he’d lived a good life, but it doesn’t make it any easier to see someone you love die like that.

I’m not going to preach to anyone, but I can only urge you to be cautious. I know we’re all fed up with restrictions and life being the way it is. I know there is light at the end of the tunnel as vaccines are being rolled out, but this virus is still out there and it’s still dangerous. The most vulnerable among us are still loved and cherished family members and friends. Please don’t lose sight of that amid frustration, we all have a responsibility to each other. Someone’s age or their underlying condition doesn’t make them expendable.

Be careful. Look after each other. Each one of those statistics released daily is a real person, with many more left behind. Wash your hands. Wear a mask – at worst it’s a mild inconvenience, at best it saves lives, maybe even your own. Get the vaccine when you can.

My daughter, who I haven’t seen in person for over a year now, couldn’t get home for her grandad’s funeral. The funeral at which only ten people were allowed. That’s not how we do things in Ireland. There was no wake, no telling of stories about the one just gone. The laughs you have at events like that seem incongruous to the situation, but they’re a big part of how get through it.

Like so many other families over this last 12 months, we were apart at a time when we needed to be together. Just a couple of weeks previously my big cousin Adrian, a Gooner and only a few years older than I am, was taken by Covid too. He wasn’t elderly, he wasn’t high risk. I had to ring my dad in hospital and tell him, and while the staff in there were so lovely, he had nobody to share that grief with in person.

The support mechanisms we have in place to cope with things like this aren’t there any more. There are very obvious impacts of Covid on our lives, but there are malingering ones which I don’t think we’ll come to understand for some time yet.

..

Whatever nurses are paid, they deserve twice that, and more. They are amazing. They don’t need to be clapped, they need to be paid properly. You might not need them now, so perhaps they don’t register, but there will come a time when you will, and they will be amazing for you and your family too.

They shouldn’t have to fight for the compensation they deserve. We should be fighting for them. We should be angry on their behalf. Fight for healthcare.

Pay them properly.

..

My dad was an amazing man. Really funny, kind, generous, a good person who was the linchpin of our family, and we’re going to miss him terribly. He was well cool too, I mean, look at that 1960s shades/rollneck action he had going on.

I’m experiencing a lot of emotions right now, and it’s going to take some time to process, as they say. Today though, I just want to remember him in a positive way. A man who had a huge influence on who am I, someone who – when I think of him – makes me smile.

It’s absolutely shit he’s not going to be around anymore, and the circumstances of his passing were deeply unpleasant. It’s been a really rough few weeks, to be honest. However, he gave me the strength to get through this, and on this Arsenal blog I’m gonna take the owner’s privilege and set myself up with a tap-in to finish.

Love you Dad, and as a wise man once said, you were f*ckin’ excellent.

The post The Blogfather appeared first on Arseblog … an Arsenal blog.

The Article The Blogfather First Appeared ON : https://arsenalweb.co.uk

The Article The Blogfather First Appeared ON : https://gqcentral.co.uk

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Go to Source Author: Goldie

[zombizombi]

3 -- for the Kent Parson Birthday Bash

“Nobody is know,” said Alexei. They were having Thai food before he left for Providence after spending a week in Las Vegas. “I’m sure. Everyone think I’m the man on your instagram -- why you put those, anyway?”

“Well --” Kent flushed. Alexei was referencing some particularly ravishing photos of Jeff’s mostly naked body. “He looked good. I couldn’t help it. You saw that ass, obviously.” He took a bite of his pad kee mao. Alexei had green curry, but it was almost gone.

Alexei laughed. He had such a nice, warm laugh that Kent couldn’t help but smile in response to it. Alexei ruffled Kent’s hair a little. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “My abs better, but if people have to think I look like someone else naked, is not a bad choice. He looks good.” He swirled some of Kent’s noodles around a fork, stealing a bite.

Kent laughed. “I should put you both on there, keep people guessing.”

Alexei raised a brow. “What, not enough drama for you in last year?”

He had a point.

Coming out had been messy. Kent had known it would be, but he just -- couldn’t take it any more. He’d done it in the least flashy way he could think of, coordinating everything with the front office and keeping his therapist’s number on hand at all times. He’d taken all sorts of questions and dealt with a lot of homophobia, which was… exactly what he’d expected. And honestly? It hadn’t been as bad as he’d thought it would be. Mostly. He didn’t have to pretend to have a girlfriend anymore, for one thing.

And once one person caught Kent and Alexei having a friendly coffee together and posted it to Twitter? There was no convincing anyone that they weren’t madly in love. There had always been pictures of Kent and Alexei together, ever since they’d met at a training camp, and quick-thinking fans immediately tracked them down as “proof” of a long-standing relationship. The internet exploded. Kent’s call to Alexei, originally meant as an apology, took a twisting turn into a plot to cover up his real boyfriend with a fake one. 

Over the last year, Kent and Alexei had gone on some very public dates. They were seen at big-name restaurants in Vegas, took each other to the NHL awards, and made sure to get caught having pie in a bakery in Providence, just the two of them. It was fun and hilarious and, once they’d figured out that nobody really noticed anything if Jeff came along, too, their dates often included Kent’s actual boyfriend.

The more time he spent with Alexei, the easier it seemed to get. When he visited in Vegas, he stayed with Kent and Jeff, taking their guest bedroom. When the Aces came to Providence, Alexei always took them some place he really liked -- in addition to his one-on-one publicity stunts with Kent, of course. 

He never said anything about wanting to end their arrangement, despite the fact that it had been going on for a while. Alexei wasn’t actually seeing anyone that Kent knew of, and he always seemed content with his time with Kent and Jeff. They’d only staged one or two kissing pictures, nothing too risque, but both times Kent had come away with the feeling that they could’ve gone a lot further. He couldn’t deny that Alexei was just his type -- tall, dark hair, hot as hell. He was the kind of guy Kent wanted to climb like a tree, and the idea of seeing him in bed with Jeff only made it worse.

 That was the feeling he was going home with that evening. Alexei’s crushing hug in the airport stayed with him on the drive home. They had fun together, didn’t they? And they’d only gotten closer over the last year. Kent couldn’t help but wonder how much more fun they could be having. When Alexei was over to their house, they always laughed and stayed up too late and just generally… enjoyed each other’s company. They’d all fallen asleep on the sofa together more than once. 

Honestly, it wasn’t the first time Kent had considered asking Jeff what he thought about Alexei. They got along just fine, and Kent knew that Jeff was thankful for Alexei’s help in covering up their relationship -- not because they were worried about being out, but because they were on the same team. It was a PR nightmare. 

Not that Kent publicly dating a man from another NHL team was without its own problems. Still, it was easy to deal with, much easier than speculation about Jeff’s role on the team if everyone knew he was the captain’s boyfriend. It would’ve been even worse if everyone knew they’d been dating for three years.

Coming home, he tossed his keys down by the door. “Babe?”

“What?” Jeff’s voice came from the kitchen. “You back already? Have fun?”

“Mmm.” Kent found Jeff washing dishes. He slid his arms around Jeff’s waist, leaning his cheek against Jeff’s bare back. He smelled like Irish Spring soap, clean and comforting, and his hair was still wet. Kent closed his eyes.

“Miss me?” Jeff rinsed the last plate. “Not ready to replace me with Alexei?”

Kent laughed. It was a running joke between them, either Jeff’s being replaced or their adding Alexei to the relationship and sleeping in a giant hamster pile. “Never,” he said. Pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Jeff’s neck, he opened his eyes again. “But we can add him in if you want.”

Jeff laughed, too. “Yeah, all right.”

Wait, for real? They’d never discussed an open relationship seriously before -- at least, Kent thought they hadn’t. They’d talked about it in very casual terms, mostly in reference to Alexei. Jeff was fond of the term ménage à trois. “Are you joking?” Kent asked.

“Are you?” Jeff twisted in Kent’s arms. “C’mere.” He leaned down, catching Kent’s mouth with his. “I was wondering about that, myself. We say it often enough.”

Kent pulled back. “Were you?”

“You like him,” Jeff said, voice soft. He grinned. “Not as much as you like me, but let’s face it -- I’m amazing.”

Kent rolled his eyes. “I do not --”

“Yeah, you do. You guys have fun, he’s great. I like it when he’s here. Every time he’s come over, it’s chill.”

“And he’s hot,” Kent said.

“And he’s hot.” Jeff rubbed at the back of Kent’s neck. “It’s no big deal, babe. I just, y’know. I wanna have fun, too.” He paused. 

That was fair. 

“Does that make this an open relationship?” Kent asked. He wasn’t really sure he could stomach the idea of Jeff going out and finding someone else. That’s what an open relationship would entail, wasn’t it?

“Uh,” said Jeff, “no. That makes this an I’m okay if you want to look up polyamory and talk to Alexei specifically relationship.” He kissed Kent’s forehead.

Oh, good. “Cool,” Kent said.

Their bright idea to get that ball rolling was to have Alexei come by and spend more time with both of them. Kent made sure to imply that he wanted to see Alexei just because he wanted to, turning down any ideas of public places they could be seen. “Nah, we just wanna hang with you,” he said, careful to use the plural “we” instead of “I.”

Jeff opened the door, letting Alexei in. “Hey, man.”

“I bring you a wine,” Alexei said.

“Classy as fuck,” said Jeff, “okay. C’mon, I’ll put that in the kitchen and we can finish that episode of House of Cards we were watching last time you were here.”

“You don’t finish it already?”

“Nah, man, I waited for you.”

Alexei’s laugh melted the ice off Kent’s nerves. “You are too good to me,” he said.

“I get that a lot,” said Jeff.

The wine was a perfect match for the pasta Jeff had cooked.

“So,” said Kent, fidgeting a little. “I know, um. We’ve been seeing a lot of each other lately, and, uh. That’s been nice. But --” He paused, not sure of how to say it. How were you supposed to ask a guy if he wanted to date you and your boyfriend?

“Spit it out,” Alexei said, after a long silence. “You are like -- jumping beans?” He patted Kent’s thigh.

Jeff laughed.

“I just, um. I was wondering if we could, uh. If we could maybe not fake date any more,” Kent said. 

The smile slid off Alexei’s face. “Oh,” he said. He swallowed, pulling his hand away from Kent’s leg. “Ah. I’m sorry.”

Jeff frowned. “I think that came out wrong,” he said. “We’re trying to ask if you wanna date us. Both, I mean.”

Alexei stared.

“For real,” Kent added. “Boyfriend-style. Not fake dating, I mean. Like actual, real, all sleeping in bed together dating…” Alexei’s face was unreadable. That meant he needed to backpedal, right? Big time. “If not, it’s cool, so don’t --”

“Yes,” said Alexei.

“Oh,” said Kent.

“Cool,” said Jeff. “I get the left side of the bed. No debate.”

Alexei laughed.

( here it is on AO3 -- part of the @kentparsonbirthdaybash collection! )