#like going off of. comic canon. it’s just something Too Far Down The Road. him getting remade | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notes-from-sarah · 7 months

Text

Graveside

Rating: G/K

Length: 6k words

Link on AO3, FFN

Summary: As Magneto lays his Anya to rest, he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. Years later, he visits his daughter’s graveside again, this time accompanied by Wanda and Pietro. Claremont canon compliant. 70s-80s X-Men canon compliant.

A/N:

1953 portion takes place after Classic X-Men (1986) #12, “A Fire in the Night!”, 1983 portion takes place after Vision and the Scarlet Witch (1982) #4.

During this period of the comics, Magneto’s real name was Magnus so that’s the name I use in this story.

I’m using my own approximation on the timelines because comicbook math doesn’t always add up.

Since Wanda’s powers are very inconsistent throughout the comics I’m doing my own take.

1953

“Magda!” Magnus’ voice cracked, the smoke and heat had scorched his throat raw. Magda didn’t slow down, didn’t look back. He wanted to run after her, to catch hold of her and make her understand. But her couldn’t leave Anya. Magnus dropped to his knees in front of her small body. He wanted to stay there forever, he couldn’t believe what had happened. It just couldn’t be real.

The inn continued to burn and in the distance others were beginning to be alerted to the fact. Magnus knew he needed to go. There was nothing left for him here. There was nothing left at all. Taking off his coat he wrapped it tenderly around Anya’s body as a shroud. The final embrace he could not give her. Her body was so small.

The smell of ash and burned flesh filled his nostrils and made him choke. Bodies, burning bodies. So many bodies. Day after day with no end in sight. Magnus had thought he’d put that all behind him, thought that the nightmare was over. Apparently there was no escape.

Lifting Anya into his arms, Magnus began to walk. Once, there had certainly been a Jewish cemetery in this city, but he could not count on that any more. He would have to make do. Being careful to avoid the citizens who were beginning to stream towards the still flaming inn, Magnus wove through streets and alleys towards the edge of the city.

Magnus wasn’t sure how far he walked or for how long. More than anything he wished Magda was here with him, he wasn’t sure he could do this alone. How could she leave him and Anya at a time like this? Did she really care so much for those animals that had caused the death of their daughter? Was his slaying of them really so monstrous? He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be hurt, to scream or cry or something, instead a familiar numbness settled over him. Magnus just kept walking.

The night was deep and dark by the time he made it to the edge of the city. In the distance he could hear a train. He kept going. He had to find a place where his little girl wouldn’t be disturbed. Out past the edge of the city, the landscape resolved into countryside. Farms flanked the road on either side and Magnus knew the farm houses weren’t too far away. He needed to go further.

Turning off the road he walked on. His thoughts beginning to fill with memories of Anya. She had loved her mountain town in the Carpathians. She was close friends with some of the other children of the village and they could always be found playing together under Magda’s watchful eye. She did all the things you would expect a child to do. She climbed trees and skinned her knees and elbows. She caught bugs and frogs and stalked birds through the forest. She would pick handfuls of flowers to bring back to her papa all summer long, dirt smeared on her cheeks, her hair full of twigs.

She was such a bright and beautiful child, she was every bit as eager to learn as he was. He would teach her the names of the flowers and trees and he had been in the process of teaching her to read. She was starting to understand the alphabet and would sit on his knee puzzling out a book while he was studying a book of his own trying to teach himself algebra or geometry. Magda would say they were quite the pair of scholars. Magnus had always dreamed that his daughter would have the education he never did.

Magnus shifted the small burden in his arms. Wasn’t it just yesterday that he had carried her like this when she’d fallen asleep on the train? She had been so excited for her first trip away from the village. She had seen a picture of a locomotive in a book, but their remote village was nowhere near any tracks. When she finally saw one in real life she was ecstatic. She had said “Papa, they do exist!” He had joked and told her a fairy tale about how trains used to be dragons a long time ago, but had transformed themselves so they could help people get from place to place very fast. You could tell it was true because the trains still had the dragon fire in their bellies. Anya, of course, had believed him. She believed everything he told her. Even the lies like “I’ll always take care of you.”

Coming to the edge of a river, Magnus began to follow its course. He had no idea what the river was called or even where he was, but none of that mattered anymore. He walked on, the dark pressing in on him. Anya was still afraid of the dark. Often, she would wake in the middle of the night and crawl into bed with him and Magda. Magnus didn’t much care for the dark either. Almost any hardship or indignity could be endured in the daylight hours, but come nightfall such things became unbearable. It was just the way of things.

Coming to a rickety bridge, probably one shoddily made for local use, Magnus crossed over the river and found himself in wilder country. Crossing an overgrown field Magnus paused, his senses flaring as he felt something nearby. This power that he had was alerting him to the presence of something metal. Reaching out a hand, Magnus called to the metal laying half-buried in the dirt. To his surprise, the object leapt from its resting place and jumped into his hand. It was a steel bar, maybe forty-five centimeters long and quite hefty. It must have fallen off some farming equipment, but Magnus realized it could serve a purpose instead of rotting away to nothing. Sliding the steel bar through his belt, Magnus kept walking.

Finally, Magnus came to a stand of trees. Anya always loved the forest, she spent much of her days playing in them when the weather was nice. He hoped she would like these trees, they weren’t her friends from the mountains but they’d have to do.

Magnus made his way with some caution now, one never knew what sort of animals lived in a forest. In the mountains he was always careful about bears and wolves and feral dogs. The night was even darker here, Magnus found himself navigating more by instinct than anything else. Thick pine trees overgrew the entire area with a smattering of broad leaf trees in the mix, the forest floor was carpeted thick with needles and his footsteps were practically silent. Picking his way through the untamed brambles, Magnus found at last what he had come for.

A tall elegant tree stood in something of a clearing. Its branches arched high over the earth and the clean scent of pine filled the air. This was a place that could be made sacred. Gingerly, Magnus placed Anya in a cradle of knotted roots at the base of the tree. Then, drawing the steel bar from his belt, he began to dig.

The steel bar was better than nothing, but the process was slow as he carved away the soil. He tried not to think about how Magda should be here to hold their child while he dug. He tried not to think about how she’d abandoned him, abandoned Anya. How she hadn’t even wanted to say goodbye to their daughter. He tried not to think about Magda at all.

Scooping out soil with hands and steel, Magnus began to see the resemblance of a hole. It didn’t need to be very big, Anya was such a little girl. The soil embedded itself under his nails and stained his skin with its rich black color. The smell of the freshly turned soil threw him back to his own childhood. The smell of soil and lime as he’d dug his way out of a grave. Thinking back on it now, Magnus wasn’t sure why he’d bothered. Why did he keep living when everyone else died?

Magnus struggled as his improvised tool began to strike tree roots. If only instead of a bar it was a blade, then it would hardly slow him down at all. He was strong and would not stop until the task was complete. The bar seemed to react to his thoughts. It twitched in his hand and a current of energy flowed between himself and the steel. He wasn’t sure how this magic power worked, but earlier that day when he wanted something all he had to do was think about it. So he did just that once more. Focusing his mind on the blade he desired, Magnus gripped the steel letting the current flow back and forth between himself and the bar. The metal began to morph, and within moments it now had a razor keen edge. Magnus was mystified. How had he come to do this? Was he really some sort of freak, a monster cursed with unnatural powers? He didn’t know what to think, all he knew was that he had to keep digging.

The first light of dawn was creeping up the sky when the melancholy task was complete. Deep enough to not attract animals, the small grave was unlikely to be disturbed. Magnus went back to the roots of the tree and picked up Anya once more. One last time. Sitting with his back to the tree he cradled her small body. He wanted to weep, wanted to shed the tears his little girl deserved. But he could not. The numbness inside him was absolute. It was just another death.

Reaching up, he unclasped the necklace he wore. It was a gift from Magda, a gold Star of David she had given him when they got married. It was very small, it had not cost very much, but he wore it every day. He pulled back the coat and laid the necklace on Anya’s heart. “A gift from your mother and me,” he whispered. Anya had so often played with it when he was rocking her before bed. He had promised her that one day when she was big he would buy her one of her own. He had promised her so much.

Tucking the folds of the coat around his little girl once more, Magnus sat and rocked her, singing her favorite lullabies for the last time. He remembered so long ago when his grandfather had died. His father and nine other men from the community had come to say the Kaddish at the graveside. It has to be ten people, he’d been told. This is how we support each other in a community, his father had said. He had no community, one else at all, the lullabies would have to do.

The orange slivered edge of the sun peaked over the horizon and Magnus knew he couldn’t put this off any longer. Rising to his feet, Magnus brought Anya to the grave and lowered her in as if he were laying her in her bed after she had fallen asleep in his arms. For a long moment he gazed on the small bundle before he lifted his arm and let the first handful of soil fall onto Anya’s body. Handful after handful he filled the grave with the black earth. It was the burial he never got to give his family, the burial denied to so many of his people. A part of him could still feel the metal of the necklace, even when Anya was completely covered. With each handful it seemed like a part of him was being buried, too. The love he’d had for his wife and child, the dreams he’d had of earning a college degree, the life he’d hoped to give Anya as she grew up. All of it gone. All he had left was the smell of burning and the taste ashes in his mouth.

When all the soil had been replaced, Magnus took the steel bar. Turning it over in his hands, he pondered if his newfound powers might make a suitable grave marker for Anya. He hated to think that one day he would forget where he buried her. That he would be unable to find her again. Focusing his mind and feeling that inhuman energy flowing through him, he pulled and stretched the steel this way and that until he had a solid plate, decently sized and roughly square, in his hands. Was there anything this power could not do? If only he had discovered it just a few days earlier.

Even a feeling of regret could not break through the numbness as he traced his fingertip over the metal. The power still charged through him and wherever he traced his finger, an impression formed in the steel. Carefully working in Hebrew, he wrote the appropriate inscriptions as near as he could. His own studies of Hebrew had been limited, but he wanted to give Anya the proper marker no one else in his family had received. In smaller letters at the bottom of the plate he repeated everything in Russian, hoping that if some Soviet found this resting place they might have pity on a little girl and leave her be.

The steel plate gleamed in the morning sun which shone between the tree trunks. Something bright and pretty for Anya, it was the best he could do. His final gift to his daughter. Lastly, at the top of the plate, he drew a Star of David. Then, as he sang Anya a final lullaby, he buried the edges of plate in the earth at the head of Anya’s grave.

Standing and brushing the soil from his clothes, Magnus looked at the final resting place for his daughter. He stood there a while wishing for some tears to come, but they would not. He couldn’t even give his daughter the grief she deserved. Maybe he was a monster. At last, he knew he had to go. He had to try and find Magda, talk some sense into her. He had to find her and leave this revolting country. Maybe it was time to go to Israel. Maybe, at last, he could find some safety there.

“Don’t be frightened of the dark, my dear. I will come back and visit you very soon.” With that, he turned and walked away.

1983

“I want you to take a trip with me today, please, it won’t take very long.” Magneto stood on Wanda’s doorstep, the cool early morning breeze tugging at his clothes, the sun only just up. Wanda was surprised to see him, he hadn’t exactly phoned ahead, but this was important.

“Come in,” Wanda stepped back from the door and waved him inside. She was dressed in a deep purple that suited her red-brown hair more than one would suspect. It struck Magneto once again how very much like Magda she looked. He also thought he saw hints of his own mother in her face, maybe even his sister. How foolish he must have been to be around her and her brother and not even recognize them.

Stepping inside, Magneto saw Pietro sitting on the couch, bouncing Luna in his arms. Pietro’s daughter had grown so much in the months since last he’d seen her. “Good,” Magneto said, “the both of you are here, that will save a trip to the moon.” Wanda exchanged a glance with her brother. Magneto knew they were both still wary of him after he had coerced them into being part of his Mutant brotherhood. For him, that had been another lifetime. He didn’t even recognize the man he’d been back then. That didn’t change things for them, however. They still didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame them.

“What is it?” Wanda prompted.

Magneto glanced between his two children. Only recently had they learned of their true connection to each other. Regret over missing so much of their lives stung at him. “I wanted you to come with me to visit the grave of your sister.”

“Our… sister?” Wanda said, clearly taken off guard.

“You never told us we had a sister,” Pietro said, somewhat accusingly. His deep frown reminded Magneto of his own.

Magneto crossed his arms over his chest. He’d been meaning to tell them about Anya from the start, he just never found the right way to say it. “She died a few months before you were born. Her name was Anya. Today is the anniversary of her death.” All those years ago he’d promised to come back, so far he’d never had the courage to do so. For years he’d tried to forget everything in his past, his human wife and daughter and life and just bury himself in being a Mutant. Maybe, he had thought, if he pretended that none of that happened, that none of that mattered, he could be free of all the pain that went with it. Since his rebirth a few years ago, however, he couldn’t pretend anymore. Who he was and what he had been through were as inescapable as time itself. He couldn’t run from himself any longer. It was time Anya’s papa paid her a visit.

Wanda came over to Magneto and took him by the arm, guiding him to the couch. “Why don’t you tell us a little more about all of this. This is the first we’re hearing of this sister.”

Magneto sat on the couch and looked between the twins. He wanted to tell them everything, how he and their mother had escaped certain death in the Nazi concentration camps and had built a life for themselves before he got selfish and everything went wrong. He wanted to tell them all the little stories about their sister, how much their mother and he loved her and what a good big sister she would have been to them. He wanted to say all those things and more, but when he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t quite come out.

Long ago, he’d felt nothing, now he felt too much.

Closing his mouth, he shook his head. “I don’t know how to say all there is to be said. Her name was Anya, she was only five-years-old. I haven’t been back since I buried her, I thought you might want to come as well.”

Wanda looked at her brother and some indecipherable communication passed between them. Pietro rolled his eyes and said, “Wanda, can we have a word in the kitchen?”

Wanda rolled her own eyes before jerking her head to the other room and the pair of them vanished through the door. Magneto didn’t try to overhear their conversation. Undoubtedly they were discussing if he was trustworthy enough to follow to who knows where. Certainly they were questioning his credibility or if he was lying to them to gain their trust. He knew he deserved such skepticism, he wished he might one day overcome it. Perhaps in the future he might be redeemed.

Pietro and Wanda came back into the sitting room a few minutes later. Wanda was being logical with her brother, saying “-Vision can watch Luna while we’re gone, it’ll be fine. He’s babysat before.”

“I know, I know,” Pietro said, holding up his hand to put a stop her persuasion, “I just hate leaving her, I miss her when I’m gone.” Wanda squeezed her brother’s shoulder encouragingly. Magneto was happy that they’d always had each other, even if he and Magda had never been part of their lives.

Wanda turned to Magneto. “We’d like to go with you.”

Pietro, ever the more surly of the two, added, “But if there’s any funny business, you’ll regret it.”

Magneto sighed. “Please believe me, Pietro, I’ve changed. I’m not the man you knew all those years ago.”

“That remains to be seen,” Pietro muttered.

Wanda, seemingly wanting to forestall any further comments from her brother, asked, “Where are we going?”

“The USSR."

. . .

It had probably been more than two decades since Magneto had used a passport or entered a country legally. He had long since given up thinking of himself as a citizen of any nation, and instead maintained that since he was a Mutant he was unaccountable to human law and practice. Today was no different. Using his powers to created a magnetic sphere around the three of them, he transported himself, Wanda and Pietro into the sky with his abilities. A journey that would normally take many hours could be accomplished in minutes, before long the three of them were touching down outside the Soviet city of Vinnytsia.

Magneto pointed to the city in the distance. “I came here with your mother long ago, I had an idea that I would earn a place at university and get a degree. I had such a desire to learn back then, I suppose that desire has not yet completely abandoned me. I thought I might be able to get back the education I had lost out on as a boy and maybe provide a better living for my family. Alas, it was not to be.”

Pietro looked around them, the mostly open countryside was carved into fields. “I don’t see any graveyards,” he observed.

“I was not able to lay her to rest in a graveyard,” Magneto said quietly. “The Nazis destroyed all the Jewish graveyards during the war, and the Soviets weren’t much better. I didn’t want someone to disturb her resting place. It was perhaps not a proper burial according to the traditions of our people, but it was what I could manage under the circumstances.” Magneto gazed around the horizon before finding the direction he thought he remembered and, motioning the twins to follow him, set off.

“Why haven’t you told us any of this before?” Wanda asked.

“I wanted to, but it is not always easy for me to discuss. When I think about what transpired, it is as if it happened just yesterday.” Magneto glanced down at Wanda. “I can still smell the fire.”

Magneto pressed on while the twins paused to share a look before continuing. Magneto wasn’t entirely sure where he had been on that night so long ago, but he centered himself and let his instincts guide him. That fateful day three decades ago was etched in his mind in sharp detail. Every thought and feeling flowed though him now as strongly as on that day.

The three of them walked through overgrown fallow fields as they wended their way deeper into the countryside. When Magneto saw the forested outcropping ahead he knew they had found it. He pointed to the woods and said, “There is the sepulchre where your sister lies. I can feel the marker I made her from here.”

“It looks peaceful,” Wanda said, gazing at the forest. “I can feel the quiet from here.”

Magneto glanced at Wanda and gave her a small smile.

Entering the shadow of the trees, the afternoon sun shone on them weakly through the boughs. A hush filled the air under the branches. Using his abilities, Magneto was able to feel the presence of the grave marker he’d laid. Treading softly, they came at last to the spot. Magneto knelt down and cleared the pine needles and other debris from the marker. With a flick of his finger the decades of rust and corrosion disappeared and the plate shone as brightly as the day he had laid it.

“Hello, Anya,” he murmured, “I’m sorry, Papa didn’t bring you any flowers.” Lowering himself to the ground, he kissed the steel headstone.

Wanda and Pietro knelt down on either side of him as he sat back up. Pietro ran his finger over the inscriptions on the plate. “What does it say?” he asked.

Magneto swallowed, his emotions beginning to throb in his chest and throat. He maintained careful control of his voice as he recited what was written. First in Hebrew, then in English. He didn’t even need to read it, he couldn’t have forgotten it if he’d tried. After living in Israel, his Hebrew was much better now than it had been then. Still, he stumbled over some of the words, unshed tears threatening to take control of him.

Wanda put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell us about our sister, Father.” It was first time she’d called him that.

Pietro nodded. “Yes, tell us what she was like.”

“She was the most beautiful of children,” Magneto began. “She was the true light of my life. She was every hope and dream I ever had for the future. Bright, curious, intelligent, kind, thoughtful. I don’t even know how to describe her. But you must know how I felt, Pietro, you must feel the same about Luna.”

Pietro gulped and nodded.

Magneto continued. “After your mother and I escaped Auschwitz, we settled in a village in the Carpathian mountains – on the Polish side. We eventually got married and we had a good life. I worked as a builder, I was quite handy and was able to build us a small cottage up there in the mountains. Soon enough your sister was born. She was such a nice, fat baby. I remember that well. I had seen so many starve and to know that she would always have enough to eat was a joy to me. After losing so many people during the war, I thought maybe Magda and I finally had a chance to begin again. We’d build a new family together and have a new life. One no longer stained by death and destruction. It was a dream that seemed possible then. Back in those days I’d never even heard the word Mutant. I thought I was human, like everyone else. If only I had known, what a difference it would have made.”

Wanda began to pick up fallen leaves from the forest floor around them. “Tell us more, Father,” she urged. It warmed Magneto to hear her call him father. It had been too long since he’d heard it.

“When your sister was five I had a notion that I might be able to earn a place at a top university here in the USSR. Such spots are difficult to achieve unless you are very intelligent, but I told myself that I could do it and your mother believed me. I uprooted our lives to come to the city where I might have a chance to get in.” Magneto now recalled the decision with a bitterness that leaked into his voice. If only he’d not been so selfish and delusional.

“The day we arrived, I went to find work. The entire city was still being rebuilt after the Nazis nearly destroyed everything so I knew I could get a job just about anywhere. When I returned to the inn where we were staying, it was on fire. When I went to rescue Anya from the fire, I was beset by secret police. They prevented me from saving her!” Anger flashed in Magneto’s eyes, the fury he felt then was still every bit as strong. “That’s how your sister died. She burned to death and I couldn’t save her. Watching her die, and like that, like I had seen so many others die, I couldn’t take it. Something in me broke loose and my powers killed all those around me save Magda.”

Wanda’s eyes went wide but Pietro merely said, “I understand.”

Magneto looked at his son, of the twins, Pietro was always the harder one to reach. “Your mother did not understand, I’m afraid. When she’d seen what I had done she ran from me and I never did find her again. She said that I was a monster and ran. She was so overcome she didn’t even stay to bury our daughter. I think a part of me has never forgiven her for that, but now I think I can understand it too. She was a good woman, Magda, but her life had left its scars.” Magneto ran his thumb over his sleeve where underneath he bore the Auschwitz prisoner tattoo.

“I didn’t know your mother was pregnant when she left me, and after I couldn’t find her I decided she was better off without me. It seems that all who love me are fated to a terrible end. Wherever she is, if she still lives, she is most certainly better off without me.” Magneto found himself thinking of Magda often, he’d never been able to find any more about what had happened to her but he hoped she was happy. Glancing between Wanda and Pietro he said, “Had I known of you two, believe me, I would have come for you. I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.” Magneto began to sweep his hands over the grave to clear the leaf and pine litter.

“Our adoptive parents were good to us,” Wanda said in a reassuring tone as she shaped her bundle of leaves into a small bouquet. “We were okay in the end and I can’t imagine my life without them.”

“And I am grateful for that,” Magneto said, giving Wanda another soft smile, “still, I regret all the time I lost with you two, and all the paths I’ve walked since your mother left me. I lost my way for a long time, lost who I was. I’m still not sure I’ve found it, but finding you and your brother makes me feel…” Magneto trailed off as he tried to put these emotions into words for the first time. “It makes me feel human again.”

Wanda leaned in and put an arm around Magneto. The demonstration brought tears to Magneto’s eyes. He ached to once more hug his Anya, to give Magda one last embrace before she left him forever. He wanted to say a proper goodbye to everyone who’d been ripped away from him. His mother and father, his sister, everyone he’d ever loved. Thirty years ago he’d knelt here alone, numb. Now, his children sat beside him and all the feelings he’d not been able to muster then came welling to the surface now. Covering his face with his hands, he began to weep.

Wanda and Pietro didn’t say a thing. Wanda just rested her cheek on his shoulder and rubbed her hand over his back. Pietro, somewhat hesitantly, patted Magneto’s back in what he must have thought was a soothing patter. Magneto struggled to regain his composure, but part of him was relieved to finally give Anya the tears she deserved.

Finally, Wanda spoke, “Father, I want to show you something.”

Magneto took a deep breath and lifted his face from his hands. He was unused to appearing so vulnerable in front of anyone, but he’d wanted the twins here for a reason. They deserved to know this part of their family’s story.

Wanda showed him the bundle of leaves she had and asked, “What was Anya’s favorite color?”

Magneto wiped away his tears and smiled as he recalled. “Yellow, it was her favorite because the sun is yellow and I always called her my little sunshine.”

Wanda smiled softly, her own eyes shining with emotion. “That’s beautiful. She sounds like the loveliest sister.” Wanda then raised her free hand and waved it over the brown leaves. Her red Mutant powers leapt forth and in the blink of an eye the bouquet of leaves transformed into one of yellow roses. “Now we have some flowers to leave for her.”

Magneto smiled, holding back a fresh wave of tears. “What a lovely gift you’ve made for her. I know she would be so proud of you.” Magneto turned to Pietro, “And you as well, Pietro. She would have loved to be your big sister. She would have taken care of the both of you so well.”

Pietro wiped his arm over his eyes. “Wait here,” he said, and with that he jumped up and sped off at top speed. Seconds later he was back, his arms filled with a huge array of wildflowers. In the space of a breath he’d arranged them into a lush wreath to frame the grave marker. “Sorry I never got to know you, big sister, I’m sure you would have been the best.” Together, he and Wanda decorated Anya’s grave the way Magneto wished he could have done all those years ago.

When they finished their task, the pair of them stepped back and looked at the beautifully decorated grave. “Is there anything you want to say, maybe a prayer or a poem?” Wanda asked. “I’m not familiar with the Jewish customs.”

A small pain lanced through Magneto’s heart. Of course they wouldn’t know such things, they were raised in a different culture. They had no reason to know the customs of their ancestors. “There are some prayers one might say, but I don’t really follow those beliefs anymore.”

“Then why don’t we make our own tradition,” said Pietro. “For this family.” Hearing that word from Pietro was like a balm to Magneto’s heart.

Wanda nodded. “Yes, something special from us to her.”

Magneto stood. “Last time I was here, I sang her her favorite lullaby. Will you sing it with me?”

The pair of them nodded. Magneto started, going slowly as he said each Yiddish phrase and waited for them to repeat it. It was a short song, the type you sing as you bounce your baby to sleep or sing with them before bed. Within a few repeats they had both gotten it and were singing it with him. Reaching out, Pietro took Magneto’s hand in one of his own, and Wanda’s in the other. Wanda took Magneto’s other hand, completing the circle as the three of them sang a lullaby for Anya.

When they left the graveside and returned to New York, Wanda invited Magneto inside for coffee and the three of them sat together, somewhat subdued, but between them now emanated a closeness that had not been present before.

A cry from the upstairs alerted Pietro that Luna was done napping and he darted upstairs to fetch her.

“Father,” Wanda asked, “do you have any pictures of Anya?”

Magneto nodded. “One, everything else burned in the fire. This one was saved because I always kept it in my wallet” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Magneto pulled out a photo in a clear plastic case. He gazed at it a moment before giving it to Wanda. “That’s your mother and Anya a few weeks before we left the Carpathians. They were my everything.”

Wanda took the photo as Pietro came back downstairs, Luna cradled in his arms. Wanda showed the photo to her brother. “She’s just a baby,” Pietro remarked, holding Luna a little tighter. “Just a little baby.”

Wanda traced her fingertips over the photo before raising it to her lips and giving it a soft kiss. “Hey sis, even though I never met you, I wanted to say that I love you.”

Warmth bloomed in Magneto’s heart upon hearing that. To know his children loved their sister made the distance between Anya and her siblings seem a little smaller. Made his life feel less like it was carved into pieces and made it seem possible that it was some sort of whole.

Pietro came to stand by Magneto. “Hey, um, Dad, do you want to hold Luna?” Holding her out he placed the baby in Magneto’s arms. Magneto looked down at the face of his granddaughter, her innocent eyes looked up at him as she gurgled and reached out to grab his nose. All three of them laughed and Magneto smiled at his family. He still had many amends to make, but the healing had begun.

#X-Men #Magneto #Erik Lehnsherr #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Magda and Anya #Wanda Maximoff #Pietro Maximoff #Family #6k words #Hurt/Comfort #Grief #Mourning #Child Death #Healing #AO3 #FFN

25 notes · View notes

elvenbeard · 1 year

Text

I have too many VP ideas HELP. I need to write them down somewhere where I'll find them again so here we go, what is a blog if not a notepad?

Done:

part one of an attempt at making a big edit - gonna be a set of four pics, revolving around Vince's Arasaka past and how merc life is honestly the same shit, just a different packaging (the project I mentioned earlier this week that I needed a lot of pics for XD it's also inpsired by a song that fits him so well that I've been listening to non-stop on repeat basically for two weeks now xD) ✅ done!!

the harness photoshoot: gonna make two photosets here too, one a bit more clothed than the other xD ✅done!! :D

Currently in progress/still need to edit:

A photoset of V through the years (inspired by several other's amazing takes on this <3) - headcanon/lore posts for the most important moments or timeframes in his life -> pics taken, still need editing and writing though xD

V showing Kerry some of his favourite places in the city and vice versa -> started this, but now I wanna write something for everything too and aaahh xD

Some pics to accompany the post-canon fic I spontaneously started writing -> have a couple taken already, need editing still

Part two of the big edit thingy from above: with more song lyrics that just hit the spot XD -> have a few pics taken but might scrap and redo them

Currently not started on these yet, but the ideas are not leaving my head and/or have been with me for a bit (some a lot more complex than others):

Dirtbike tour through the badlands, because hell yes - would like to incorporate this in a little fic somehow, post-canon but not too far in the future

Just V chilling with Nibbles in the penthouse garden - the grass may be fake, but I think it's been a while for both of them since they touched grass and they deserve some peace and happiness XD (might incorporate this in the same story/ time frame as the idea above - we'll see!)

V and Kerry hanging out, listening to music

Kinky Kings (I am tempted to change their ship name ngl xD but I think I'll keep it and do a cool photoshoot instead)

Some promotional pics (sorta) for Kerry's new album (potentially in black and white? I'm not sure yet but I'd really like to do a bw set!!)

Not really a big VP thingy, but I've wanted to do a headcanon post about Kerry's cyberware, what all of it is and does and when/how he got it/ had to get it - need close up pics for some of that though (and any excuse to look at Kerry for prolonged periods of time honestly)

V and Kerry on a bike tour through the city at night - no deeper meaning here other than "let's blow off some steam" "okay :3" *five minutes later* "okay, this is not what I had in mind o.o but still fun!" (also Night City at night <3 but I have no idea yet how to pull it off with traffic and all probably running me over repeatedly as I set this up, but we shall see xD gonna be an interesting challenge for sure!)

More photo stories with V and Jackie, but no concrete ideas here yet

A photo story/ fic with pics of "that one perfect morning" I mentioned in a oneshot once, meaning the morning after Boat Drinks - also ties in a bit with the "favourite places" idea) - I am also tempted to do this as a comic instead, but don't even get me started on my comic ideas and all that's in progress there... the day needs more hours!

Also I wanna do more spicy stuff :3c but no concrete ideas here yet (maybe I'll redo the window photoshoot some time because with the graphics update their reflections might look even nicer... we shall see though!)

Road Trip with V and Kerry!!

Just some nice aesthetic model-y shots with Vince because he's pretty xD

#cyberpunk 2077 #don't know how to tag this aaah #vp ideas #so that I actually find it again when I'm looking for it

23 notes · View notes

ectonurites · 2 years

Note

Do you think DC has any plans to make Kon queer (since they’ve been baiting TimKon since Tim has come out and Kon’s creator said he thinks he’s bi) or do you think canon queer Kon and TimKon are dead?

I don’t 100% think any of those things, tbh

I think right now the current solidified upcoming plans for Kon are far more Superfam-related (like, the upcoming new designs for the whole fam and stuff in Action Comics, and his solo book from Round Robin being him off on his own adventure in part at least bc of complicated feelings about how he fits into the Superfam nowadays based on the initial preview we got a while back) rather than… related to Tim or anything like that. Sexuality could maybe be a topic of discussion in the solo but my… vibe read, I guess (which isn’t based off much solid factual stuff but rather observation and intuition etc) is that there’s more character work to be done with just re-establishing him in the present day DCU and nailing down his status quo before shaking it up with something like exploring ‘hey what if he’s queer’.

any ‘baiting’ of TimKon in recent times (since Tim’s come out) has happened under Fitzmartin’s pen—and maybe that’s an angle she would like to explore with Kon and possibly has ideas/plans for down the road—but as of right now she’s not writing him in anything soon (since, again, the things he’s slated to appear in are Action Comics and his Round Robin book). I think it’s always like, relevant to remember that with something like DC where characters pass between different writers with different ideas and stuff, what may seem like something being hinted at with one writer could totally just… not be picked up on and continued by the next- especially when there’s different editorial teams the character is going between too. Things aren’t always as deliberate as we may want them to be.

But anyways, I don’t think it’s impossible for any of it to happen, i don’t think queer Kon or the possibility of TimKon are ‘dead’ or anything like that. but I also don’t really think of anything like that as being… solidly planned at this moment.

20 notes · View notes

emeraldiis · 3 years

Text

Cross Country Love Affair // Kentucky (Part 1)

A/N: life is life. shit’s tough yo, enjoy this chapter that took my slow ass entirely too long!

CCLA Masterlist

AO3 Link

Tag List (send an ask to be added!): @mantarini-i @luxoree

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Bucky makes your blood boil like no other man can. In a twisted turn of events, the two of you are stuck on a road trip from hell. This fic follows Bucky and the reader from Florida all the way to Washington state. Nothing like being trapped in a car for fifty hours to break the ice. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something like that.

Warnings: canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, alcohol use

You held your tongue until the state line for Kentucky flew by you on the side of the road. You’d figured it would be unwise to start an argument before you made it far enough away from the scene of the crime. But now, as the moon crept higher into the sky and your exhaustion peaked, you just couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Are we going to talk about how you completely ruined our chances at finding a motel room to sleep in?” You tried so hard to keep your tone even, but you couldn’t help the white hot fury that seeped into your voice.

“He was out of line,” Bucky said. His metal hand whirred as it tightened around the steering wheel, and you saw his jaw clench in the glow of the oncoming headlights.

You sighed heavily. “I could’ve handled it myself; I don’t need you interfering when it isn’t needed.”

“It’s pretty fucking ridiculous that you’re pissed at me for saving your ass.”

That was too much. “Saving my ass? You think I need saving from some dumb college kid?” Your voice was climbing in volume, and you knew that yelling at him wasn’t the answer. But fuck, you were tired, hungry, and just wanted a bed to sleep on. The only rest you’d gotten in days was broken up sleep in the passenger seat.

Bucky had no response for that one. Instead, he yanked the wheel towards the right lane, careening down a conveniently placed exit. You clutched the side of the door at the sudden movement and glared at him. “And now you’re trying to kill us both.”

Highway treelines gave way to an out of the way road, glowing yellow with the neon sign for roadside inn just a few hundred feet away. “There’s your fucking hotel,” he said tightly.

You were surprised at how quickly he’d found the place, but figured that Bucky had to be exhausted, too. He was probably keeping an eye on the exit signs while you sat there seething. “Do we have enough money for a room?”

“Yeah. We probably have enough to order pizza, too,” Bucky replied as he whipped the van into the motel parking lot.

You eyed Bucky skeptically. “I’m not sure sixty dollars and some change is enough for…” you trailed off in awe as Bucky dug into his pocket and pulled out an expensive looking wallet. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

The fucker had managed to snatch Matthew’s wallet while causing a scene. You were both exasperated and impressed; why couldn’t he have done that instead of letting you waste time hustling pool? “You couldn’t have told me you knew how to pickpocket before I got groped by that jerk?”

Bucky shrugged, already rifling through the wallet for bills. “I wasn’t going to take it unless he deserved it.”

Oh. That was surprisingly thoughtful, in a strange way. “Well, thanks,” you said. Not wanting to waste any more time, you threw off your seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Bucky followed you to the lobby, excitedly mumbling something about being able to afford two rooms with how much money that kid had on him.

The lobby was dimly lit and looked run down, complete with flickering lights and everything. If you weren’t confident you could kick Ted Bundy’s ass into next week, you’d be worried about some serial killer trying to traffic you. A tired looking teenager sat at the front desk, nose buried in a comic book. He jumped when the bell for the doors went off, and his eyes went wide at the sight of Bucky. Ah, shit. And here you were hoping to keep a low profile after Tennessee. “You, you’re, um,” he managed to stutter out in a cracking voice before Bucky shushed him.

“Listen, kid. I’ll give you forty bucks if you agree that you never saw us here.”

The teen swallowed hard and nodded. You half expected him to try to haggle, but figured that Bucky didn’t really look like someone you’d try to bargain with. Hulking shoulders and icy eyes that stared you into the dirt would be intimidating for someone who looked like they’d never been in a fight.

“How much for two rooms?” Bucky asked while sliding over two twenties to the trembling kid.

“I’m so sorry Mr., uh, Mr. Soldier, sir,” the kid squeaked, looking like he wanted to sink into his chair. “We only have one room available, and it’s a one bed. It’s seventy for the night.”

A sigh of disappointment left your lips, and you could see Bucky’s shoulders sag. It wasn’t like the two of you hadn’t shared a room before, but the fact that there was only one bed could pose an issue. Unless one of you was selfless enough to take the floor--which was a laughable thought--you’d be cuddled up close to your unwelcome white knight.

“It’s okay. We’ll take it,” you interjected before Bucky could complain. The look of weariness on his face reminded you of yours from the other day, and you empathized with the man. With how much driving he’d been doing, he kind of had a right to be irritable. That still didn’t excuse earlier, though, no matter how thankful you were that he’d managed to steal the wallet.

The kid nodded quickly and ducked down behind the counter to retrieve the room key. Bucky took it from his trembling hand and passed him just enough to cover the bill, then turned on his heel and stalked out back to the car. You hurriedly thanked the kid and rushed out after Bucky.

“Where the hell are you going?” You asked, watching from just outside the entrance as he threw open the door to the car and started the engine.

“To get food. And a change of clothes.” He had to raise his voice slightly to be heard across the parking lot.

You nodded, taking the hint that he wanted some space from you for a bit. Truth be told, you needed some privacy as well. Bucky would probably be gone a good thirty minutes, which gave you plenty of time to use all the hot water you wanted. You stuck out your hand and whistled at Bucky, who lobbed the room key at you. It sailed over the lot and you had to duck as it nearly took your eye out. When you picked it up from the pavement, you heard a chuckle that wasn’t quite low enough not to be caught by your trained ears. Fucker had done that on purpose.

“Ass,” you yelled, already walking down the building to your room number. Either Bucky didn’t reply, or you didn’t hear him, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Just a few more minutes and you would be nearly burning your skin off in the shower. You felt a bit greasy, and you were sure that you probably stunk a good bit. Not exactly ideal for trying to stay sane.

As the door to your room creaked open, your stomach sank when you realized that one bed was an exaggeration. It was more like half of a bed, with how small that thing was. Bucky’s massive figure would never fit on there with you without some squeezing. You groaned and mentally prepared yourself for the argument of who would crash on the floor; there was no way in hell you were going to spoon that jerk all night. You actually wanted to sleep, thank you very much.

Shaking off the momentary discomfort at the sleeping situation, you made a beeline for the bathroom. As you cranked the hot water up, it felt like you couldn’t get your clothes off fast enough. You peeled the sweaty fabric from your skin and tossed it to the corner of the bathroom; laundry could be figured out after you finally smelled human again.

The water felt orgasmic when you finally stepped into the tub. Hot streams coursed through your hair and down your back, and you could already feel the stress of the past few days easing from your muscles. The tiny bottle of shampoo that was provided with the room was not nearly enough, but you made do, scrubbing at your hair like a woman possessed. As you stood under the water, your mind drifted back to Bucky. It seemed to be doing that a lot these days.

Now, as content as you were with the best shower of your life, it seemed so silly to hate him so much. Sure, he was kind of a jerk, but he’d also been through a hell of a lot more than most people can even dream of. Granted, you had, too, but at least you hadn’t been used as a weapon for decades. You figured that maybe he had earned the right to be a little selfish. It was easy to chastise yourself for getting so worked up around him while he wasn’t there. Something about him being within fifty feet of you just made every single hair on your body bristle. You were far too tired to psychoanalyze yourself about what really pissed you off about him, so you opted to just shut off the water and wrap yourself in a fuzzy, white towel instead.

As nice as the shower was, it was still a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere, so the towel was not as luxurious as you’d hoped. It did its job, but when wrapped around your body, you found it just barely came down far enough to cover your lower bits. You could’ve pulled it down a bit more, but that would just leave your breasts exposed. Oh, well. It wasn’t like anyone was going to come barging in.

Figuring you probably had a little longer before Bucky returned, you gingerly scooped up your dirty clothes and stepped out of the bathroom. The AC of the room quickly chilled your damp skin, the towel not giving you too much in terms of warmth. You bit your lip and quickly scanned the room. Bingo, there was a washing machine and dryer tucked away behind a creaky closet door. Maybe you needed to give this place more credit.

You tiptoed across the carpet and threw your clothes into the washer. Deciding to wait to see if Bucky had some clothes he wanted to wash, you spun around to make your way back to the bathroom until Bucky brought the car back. You faintly remembered throwing an old shirt or two in the backseat, and had completely forgotten to bring it in. You’d just have him hand you something through the door.

Your timing was off, though. The second you turned to face the front door again, the sound of a lock clicking echoed throughout the small room. You didn’t have time to race to the bathroom, and instead stood frozen as Bucky strolled in with a few plastic bags in hand. He pushed the door shut and slid the deadbolt into place, then dropped his eyes onto your still-dripping form.

Honestly, you’d think he was a virgin with how quickly his cheeks flared red. Your own face flushed as well as you caught his eyes lingering far too long on your barely covered form before he spun around. “Jesus, why are you naked?” He cried out, pressing his forehead against the door.

“I’m not naked,” you said quickly. “I have a towel on, don’t be so dramatic.” Despite trying to act like it was no big deal, you were more embarrassed than you’d ever been, and you couldn’t understand why. You’d changed in front of teammates before--both male and female--so why was this such a big deal? Once again, Bucky Barnes had thrown your emotions into a tailspin.

Bucky was still facing the door. “I’d hardly call that a towel,” he choked out. His voice was strained, but you couldn’t place your finger on what emotion was creeping into his words. Anger, maybe? Or maybe he was just embarrassed, despite it being out of character. You shook off your bashfulness and rolled your eyes. If he wanted to make this weird, that was on him.

As you shuffled back toward the bathroom, irritation replaced your earlier embarrassment. He had some nerve making this awkward, you were partners for fuck’s sake! Seeing each other in various states of undress shouldn’t be weird; there had to be room for trust. You’d show him what uncomfortable really looks like.

Bucky stiffened when your footsteps continued on past the bathroom. “What are you doing?” He asked as you came to a halt right behind him, voice surprisingly timid. The obvious anxiety in his demeanor almost made you feel guilty for teasing him, but it was just so cute; you couldn’t resist. Your eyes widened a bit at the realization that you had just thought of Bucky as cute. You must be more sleep deprived than you thought.

“Relax,” you purred, standing on your toes and leaning forward slightly to bring your lips almost to Bucky’s ear. “It’s just a bit of skin, old man. Get with the times and don’t be such a prude.”

Just as you expected, Bucky bristled at your remark. What you didn’t expect was him whirling around to tell you to fuck off to your face. His sudden movement made you jerk backwards in surprise, and you teetered back as you lost your balance. Bucky instinctively reached out to catch you. His metal hand closed around your towel just as you grabbed at his arm for stability. Caught off guard and trying not to drop his bags, Bucky was left stumbling as well.

You crashed to the floor on your back, feeling the air leave your lungs from the impact. Luckily, Bucky was able to catch himself by letting go of the groceries and bracing an arm beside your head, saving you from being crushed. Your relief was short lived, however, as you noticed that in his attempt to catch you, Bucky had torn off your towel. You were left stark naked on the hotel carpet, Bucky hovering over you with wide eyes.

To his credit, he managed to keep his gaze locked on yours, not letting it drift down to your naked body. All bravado gone, you felt like crawling in a hole and dying. The humiliation of being caught under your sort-of-nemesis completely bare was something you’d probably never recover from. That, and the feral look in Bucky’s eyes was making you a bit nervous. It looked like there was something simmering just beneath the surface of his skin, begging to come out and lose control. You swallowed hard. “Can you please go get my clothes from the van?”

Your meek request seemed to jolt Bucky out of his stupor. “Y-yeah, I’ll, um, I’ll go do that,” he managed to say, then shot up from the floor like a rocket and flew out the door.

You sat there on the floor in silence, quaking slightly from the chill of the AC on your bare skin. It took a few minutes before you were ready to make your retreat to the bathroom, and as you did, a sickening feeling of rejection crept into your bones. Not wanting to psychoanalyze your feelings at the moment, you shut the bathroom door and resigned yourself to waiting patiently--and nakedly--for Bucky to return with your clothes.

#My writing #bucky barnes x reader #mcu #imagine #marvel #tfatws #ccla

40 notes · View notes

camilliar · 4 years

Text

recs for someone new to omgcp

[February 2021.]

Reading, or not reading, OMGCP fics has come up in a couple of conversations I’ve had recently with artists newish to the fandom (ie. @jovishark; @decafffff), who are making OMGCP art (!!!) but haven’t started exploring fic -- but maybe want to? Which of course reminded me that I’ve never bothered to make an actual, concrete recs list for this fandom. So, I mean. Here is one.

The approach is, what do I think about when I think about OMGCP fanfic? What comes to mind, what stands out to me? I have excluded some very popular fics. Some of these I just don’t think are very good, and others I do think are good, and/or I enjoy them, but I don’t see why you’d need me, specifically, to recommend them. I am thinking of a story like maybe i’m waking up, which I discuss below because I link to a podfic of it. It has a lot of merits, to be sure, but it’s the second-most-read fic in this fandom by hits, and it’s got thousands of comments, and it’s by an author whose work is relatively widely praised and circulated. I am not sure what telling you more about this fic will add to the conversation; if you want to find and read it, you inevitably will. I’m happy to, say, answer asks about these kinds of fics, or talk more generally about them via DM or whatever. Feel free.

Also, I don’t think there’s a point to pretending to be objective about fanfic; this list has a perspective and that perspective is mine. In this fandom I largely read stories that navigate the tension around Jack, Bitty, and Parse, in various permutations. This is not to say that I’ve never read fic about the frogs, or that I have no interest at all in other pairings, but I am by no means an expert on Dex/Nursey and can really only speak to the one fic about them that sticks out to me because it goes beyond being merely Dex/Nursey and does something else. This is just to say that I am sure there are great and interesting fics about other things and ideas--but I’m not the person to hear about those from.

Likewise, I’m not super interested in stories that really reproduce that which is already in OMGCP. I like Zimbits--albeit maybe not in the ways or for the reasons most fans would--but I do not really need to see endless iterations of the same story about them falling in love and being cute together. I don’t think these stories are bad or they shouldn’t exist or that they have no merit by default. Still, I don’t need fanfic to give me more OMGCP. I need fanfic to complicate, to comment on, and to transform OMGCP. Many people don’t work like this! Totally okay! But I can’t rec you fics that do that.

What I have noticed, however, is that over time there appears to have been a shift in how people do write fic for this fandom. (Other than, you know, increases and decreases in activity pending the status of the comic, pairings going in and out of vogue, and so on.) Early on, say during Y1 and Y2, the comic was about the group of friends having a cool time at college together; about whether the burgeoning attraction between Jack and Bitty would manifest and, if so, how; and, especially, Jack’s past coming into fuller view for Bitty and how it would have to be dealt with in order for a relationship between them to work. YMMV on how great the comic executed there, but as Y3 went on these themes increasingly disappeared from the story. I think this means a lot of fic written over 2015-2016 or 2017 has one kind of tone, and was written mostly around these questions; after that, it feels like a new crop of writers and a new crop of ideas started circulating, that is, either embracing Jack and Bitty’s canon relationship and accepting its relative straightforwardness in text--or deconstructing it, imagining what readers aren’t seeing, or how problems not dealt with in the comic would manifest later. People who have read my fic know which of these I’m mainly interested in exploring.

All of which is to say, looking at what I’m reccing here, when the fics were posted or when I first read them probably has a lot to do with why they stick out to me so much. Because there’s no real culture of fanfic criticism--and I mean that in the positivist sense of broad evaluation not explicitly for fault and merit but rather, for context--I think it’s really hard to keep this in mind. But I’m obnoxious and I can’t just be easy about things.

Fic recs

In alphabetical order, somewhat unsorted; if a stand-alone fic has a summary I’ve included it, but in other cases I’ve recced a couple of conceptually related fics or series, which I’ve tried to just describe or explain as opposed to copying the summary off AO3.

There are so many more fanfics I think are great and worth reading! In an ideal world I’d come back and add more later, or create a secondary list that’s more along the lines of “if you like this, read these,” or whatever. But, being realistic, this is a starter kit. I’m open to talking about fanfic.

- - - - - - - - - - -

7-0-2 by Idday; Friends in Low Places and Sorry for the Blood in Your Mouth; I Wish it was Mine by blue_rocket_frost | I’m not sure it would be correct to say that I don’t like Parse/Tater, or that I’m not interested in Parse/Tater. I’m not interested in Patater a priori; I think it could be interesting, with teeth. These fics stick out to me when I think about this pairing, because they feel different. Accusations of a preference for just linking any two white men who happen to be hanging around have validity, but because of what hockey is and how it works and who’s hanging around it, it’s not exactly a leap to imagine what kind of gritty spark the friction between two closeted NHL players would create. A little violence in your sex? A little sex in your violence.

A Sight Worth Seeing by sadtomato | A four-fic Jack/Bitty/Shitty/Lardo explicit BDSM series. Either you want that or you don’t. It’s nothing hardcore, and not properly a four-way, really; more properly a kind of voyeuristic round-robin. There’s a more open and egalitarian view of sex here than I really get from the characters in the back end of the comic. It’s an expansive, propulsive view of sex and relationships that’s really nice to see. I love Lardo's detached coolness, and Bitty as a smooth operator; if you’re looking for some kind of Dom/sub dynamics world, this really isn’t it, but it’s a lively exploration into the sexual dynamics in a group of friends that’s super close to the good-times vibe you get from Haus scenes in the first couple years of extras.

call me son (one more time) by Summerfrost, Verbyna, and blithelybonny | This is a series, incomplete, and you will love it or be massively put off by it. I mean that as a compliment. I love it. The premise is, Bob Zimmermann and Kent Parson have been having sex since Kent was, like, 19. Everyone in this story has been chewed up: by themselves, by each other, by hockey. Plainly, this is a pretty bleak view of what OMGCP, as a story, is supposedly offering. If you want fic that is dark and glamorous, treading the toxic melange of substance abuse, sex-as-sublimation, and so much money you can’t possibly throw all of it away without trying, this series has that sick-inducing shimmer to it. But, again, its strength is its examination of Kent Parson, textually and meta-textually, as someone to be projected onto. Bob, Alicia, Jack, and Bitty all impute certain feelings of their own onto him, displacing their own issues to a character who’s centralized in every fic but defies neat or total comprehension. Some critiques I’ve read of this series feel it’s too dark, and I’ve also seen it argued on FFA that an overwhelming amount of praise heaped onto these stories has made it tough for other writers to make headway in writing Bob/Kent fic. But I’m also not sure you could engage with Bob/Kent fic without going down this road at some point? I’m sure there are ways to scale it back, but ultimately it’s a story about how hockey’s violent, homophobic, old-guard gatekeeping has continued to set the terms for a younger and ostensibly less toxic culture. I fully embrace PWP fics that tread on the power dynamic without fully excavating it, but buried within any PWP is the fact that a 53-year-old man is ensnaring a 19-year-old, no matter how much the latter is, realistically, into it, and legally empowered to consent. Not to mention the dynamics of it being a 53-year-old man who is the father of the 19-year-old’s ex-boyfriend, and a 53-year-old man who is an eminence grise in the field the 19-year-old is trying to make a career in The sexual element--the vaguely incestuous nature of it--is making textual the subtext of how hockey works, actually: objectification of teenage bodies as older men’s capital.

Coach Z by thistidalwave | Just before the 2009 NHL Entry Draft, tp prospect Jack Zimmermann overdoses on his anxiety medication and is admitted to rehab. His future turns from a clear-cut road to the top into an uncertain path filled with therapy appointments, ignored text messages, a group of boys who aren't there to teach him a lesson about himself, and, of course, hockey. | I keep reccing this fic because it has 360 comments on AO3 but nobody, as far as I can tell, has ever read it; it never appears on rec lists. This isn’t the kind of fanfic I usually go in for, but I can’t help being charmed by it. This is a character study in the truest sense, a kind of Mighty Ducks-but-better view on what Jack’s time coaching peewee hockey might have been like. I have no interest in kids and my own aesthetic is maybe a little darker than this, but I admire this story because it injects vibrancy into a period of Jack’s life that OMGCP has left largely unexplored, and so has the fandom. We know nothing about what made Jack want to go to college, nothing about how he spent his days in between juniors and Samwell. It posits a very sympathetic and patient Jack/Parse dynamic, showcasing the exact kind of ragged teenage push-and-pull that would have led to the circumstances we see in Parse I-III. The outside perspective Jack needs is largely present in an OFC who’s not a love interest. Super unique, somehow both engrossing and low-key.

#dirtbags by angularmomentum | A series that is a Kent Parson/Claude Giroux fuckfest with feelings. I’ve long suspected that Parse is popular in part because he is the character who most easily elides OMGCP with the actual NHL, or rather, NHL fandom; I think he made it appealing to write OMGCP fics where the NHL is a factor. Case in point, this series, which is basically “what if Kent Parson was a real hockey player and therefore part of NHL RPS”? I have only read some NHL RPS, so I’m not the person to assess accuracy, but what I do know is superstar IRL hockey players take turns here as the caricature fanfic versions of themselves, and since Kent Parson is already that, it’s great how seamlessly he integrates into their social fabric. Rambunctious energy peppered with regret and loss, but ultimately this series is farcical, and it doesn’t take its sentimental ending too seriously--which, good.

fated to pretend by nighimpossible | 5 Jack/Kent fics that Ransom and Holster dramatically reenact for the Haus + the truth. | As a fic format, 5+1 doesn’t usually work for me, but this one isn’t just front-loaded with five too-knowing vignettes; it then wraps up by using its +1 better than you might expect. Sometimes I talk about economy of fic, and this one exemplifies it. A zero-waste fic.

go ahead and move along by originally | "Leave, Parse," Jack says. Again. Or: Kent finds himself stuck in a time loop. | Kent Parson is trapped in a Groundhog Day scenario on the day of Epikegster. I’m sure you can imagine, just from that, what happens. And yet I think this fic is super entertaining, reserving some key surprises. What this story is doing is something a lot, and perhaps even the majority, of great Jack/Parse fic wants to do: digging into the question of just why this can’t work in comic canon. Most often this is approached from the past, by writing teenage Jack/Parse deep-dives that examine their lives mid-juniors, or by writing AUs where enough circumstances are shifted that it does work, or via future fics that posit enough growth has happened, and enough things have changed. But this fic makes Parse live the same bad day again and again, testing multiple theories about just how dependent on circumstance and incident real life actually is. Another day, another tone, 10 minutes sooner, not at all--you just can’t know why it didn’t work until you exhaust every possible variable. I worry that this rec has sucked the life out of the story, though--it’s so fun!

I Saw a Life and Strange Lovers by @bluegrasshole | Most AUs in this fandom seem to retell the story in a new setting or with some big detail change, following OMGCP’s rhythm beat-for-beat. I think of this as, “It’s the plot of Check, Please, but” -- they’re doing high school football? They’re acrobats? They’re a/b/o? They’re in a DIY punk band? And so on. These two stories are not that! They’re both 1950s AUs, each deeply felt, and yet hugely different from each other. I Saw a Life is about displacement and fragmentation, two sides of a similar but incongruent social critique; Strange Lovers is a finely wrought social drama about coal mining in Nova Scotia in the 1950s, centered around historical events. I suppose a theme on this rec list is something like, “I don’t even like this, but” -- yes, okay, I don’t even like Dex/Nursey, but--! This fic is so overwhelmingly complete, the AU laid out so carefully that the story breathes with all the background details informing the writing that aren’t actually, in the story; you just know they’re below the surface. (With the exception of one investigation of Jack’s character in a short, separate fic.) I Saw a Life, meanwhile, really tests the limits of the notion that Jack and Bitty are soulmates--not by calling it into question but by asking, rather innovatively, how the setting and place of the comic itself activates that.

Les Hivers de mon enfance by staranise | What do you do when hockey is the language of prayer for your soul, and also the toxic thing that almost killed you? 2009: Jack Zimmermann takes a mental health year. God knows he needs it. | Here’s a fic by someone who’s no longer around so much, but she felt ubiquitous in 2016-2019 OMGCP fandom. Before any of that, though, she wrote this one lovely fic about Jack’s pre-Samwell recovery. The author is Canadian and really irritated by hockey culture, and I think this fic benefits greatly because she is clear-eyed about Jack’s being caught in an exploitative system; it’s hockey he’s in recovery for, in a way. There’s an epistolary element that works for me, too. I read this early on in my time in OMGCP fandom and it really stuck with me.

Lysistrata? I Hardly Know Her! (by which I mean everything) by @tomatowrites | It feels somehow like cheating to recommend OMGCP fanfics by my OMGCP BFF with whom I make an OMGCP podcast where we talk about OMGCP. You know the fics I really want to rec, like truly the ones that speak to some kind of shared depravity, are the ones where Jack is miserably mpreg for the second time and accidentally lets his kid see Kent Parson’s Long John Silver’s shrimp scampi promo spot, which obviously would get twisted into a self-hating three-way. How many times do I have to rec this fic? As many as I need to, is my feeling. If you don’t know, Long John Silver’s is an American fast-food chain that sells, like, fried pollock sandwiches; it is nautical-themed; I have never eaten there; I don’t know where there is one; I don’t eat fried fish. (Shrimp, on the other hand?) All of which is to say that it takes a real genius to investigate a premise that far out. And while a lot of people almost certainly will start reading this humanity’s depths-themed sex scene and back the fuck out, readers with refined taste will note that Kent, the point-of-view character, is right there with you, despairing that he can’t help himself. And so long as you’re in that story collection, honestly, you’ll love petite gems like Jack is transmasc, Jack and Shitty play hockey in 18th-century England, and oh, right, he’s from Georgia. Tomato holds the distinction of being probably the gamest author I know in this fandom, just really like fearless in her pursuit of any range of concept she’s pushed to. (I can push her to?) See, for example, a sublime bandom AU; Bitty is cancelled for buying a maybe-unethically exported Roman fragment of a youth’s torso; or, god, the masterwork that is this future fic series where Jack keeps relapsing and Bitty exiles him to their guesthouse. Do I think you need to read a fic where Bitty is snide about the teen prostitute whose baby they’re adopting? Yes, I mean, he would be snide, don’t tell me he wouldn’t. I could go on, but my main thing here is, if I have to pick just one, I’m going to pick this Lysistrata fic. The premise, literally, is that Bitty reads the Lysistrata and it gives him ideas. Like most of Tomato’s OMGCP fic, it’s a stripping away of the comic’s polite fiction that Jack and Bitty could possibly attain the ideal it reaches in the comic without some kind of messy, efflusive breakdown. Life is like that, you see! Tricky. Like a lot of people, although it’s tough to say precisely how many, I have always intuited that maybe Bitty is kind of a natural top? But obviously when you meet him, as a literal virgin, it’s hard to see how he’d go from zero to self-actualization so neatly. This fic floats a theory, and it has a fun little side plot for Whiskey, something I never thought about or needed before Tomato built it out herein. In conclusion, BONUS: Dex’s gay lobster novel.

only fools rush in and the light of all lights by decinq | This person wrote of the nature of the wound, one of the early, formative Jack/Bitty fics that was oft-recced when I was getting into the fandom in 2016. It forms part of a larger series that deals deeply with how Jack has been shaped by his struggles (? I hate this word) with homophobia and his own mental health. It’s a picture of the character as you might have imagined him much earlier in the comic’s run. The formatting is atrocious and he author’s flair is what Tomato would call “AO3 house style.” It’s a voice that works great for her writing. I think it’s at its best in these shorter fics; the former is about Parse and Shitty stumbling into a relationship almost accidentally; the latter, an eerie PBJ vampire fic. I had begun writing a fic where Parse is a vampire early on in this fandom, only to read this and immediately quit, because you only need one, and this one’s all I need. The Parse/Shitty rare pair fic shares its exuberance with hockey RPS when it’s good: here’s how fun it can be when you’re young, rich, and jocular. And I don’t even like accidental marriage AUs, they’re usually boring, so that says a lot. By all means, read the wound fic; read the entire series. But these are highly unusual.

OVERDOSE and Oomph and a little spin-o-rama by jedusaur | None of these are long, or plotty, and they’re all a little experimental. OVERDOSE is an AU set in a world where you know how you’ll die, but no details; Oomph, a little fic where Jack hears hockey pucks talking to him. This is the kind of stuff I used to think I’d find in fandom forever, coming out of Lotrips lurking in the 2000s: short, zany bursts of energy that surprise and delight. a little spin-o-rama peers at Kent’s character through the grim reality of being the hypertalented superstar stuck on a dead-last team. All three are sparse and stylish in a way that’s really smart, practically economical.

Sowing Season by @agrossunderstatement | Parse and Zimms, Zimms and Parse. Kent Parson's life, from the Q, through his early years with the Aces, to Jack's senior year. Canon divergent. A story of love, loss, moving on, regressing, hockey, and found families of all kinds. | Effectively a novel, digging into Kent’s personal history, mostly concerning his life in juniors but expanding into his present, overlapping with the plot of OMGCP. I think there is room enough for endless speculations on what went down pre-canon; this one offers a fuller life for Kent than nearly any others, digging into him as a whole person rather than as a satellite to Jack or the plot of the comic. Which isn’t to say that the Kent/Jack stuff isn’t dealt with here; it explicitly is. But the fact of Kent Parson’s life, if we can begin to imagine it beyond mere text, would exist before, after, and alongside Jack; he gets to juniors without Jack, presumably, and he is the captain of a hockey team without Jack, and Pinkerton lays the foundation of Parse’s character within a junior hockey that Jack also inhabits, more so that Parse existing for Jack, so to speak. And I’m not implying this latter tactic is wrong; I have certainly employed it, and others have employed it to great impact and effect. But, still, the title of this series tells you what you ought to know: Kent and his story are the potentiality of OMGCP, up to a point; seeds being planted. Young hockey players, similarly. The question implied there is, what will be reaped? And the answer to the latter, in a sense, that reaping is a sort of violence. Which makes this series sound pretty heavy, but it’s not -- more like, realistic.

(tell everyone) you were a good wife by @queerofcups | The biggest problem with pretending that he doesn’t know that Kent Parson is fucking his husband is that Jack can’t tell Kent how grateful he is. | The ne plus ultra of PBJ triangulation; I’ve been squealing to the writer about how good it is since August, begging for behind-the-scenes insights, and I’d only do that if I really meant it. The precarious social fabric stretched across these three chapters is fraying before the reader’s eyes. The details are delicious, and I don’t want to spoil them, but they sing in chorus with the plot. My favorite OMGCP fics, honestly, remove the romance narrative guardrails that keep things in the comic itself humming along. I think Dann’s take is to ask who in this comic has power and what they would end up doing with it. (Or not doing, from another angle.) At one point, early on in its telling, OMGCP looked like it was going to be a story dealing with the compounded traumas of hockey’s discontents. Then, of course, it wasn’t. This is a fic that steps back and asks what the fallout of that oversight would be. But that’s just the moldering core of this fanfic; it’s actually embroidered, like I said, with glittering detail. The color of the suit Bitty wears to his wedding is burned into my brain. The gray manicure of a woman Jack knows. The ingredients in a cake. This is one of those fics I still haven’t reviewed because the thought of stacking everything I could say about it into mere AO3 comments is inadequate.

when you’re ready by megancrtr | The Aces’ director of communications gets the call at 3:13 a.m. Jack Zimmermann has withdrawn from the draft. | “What happened at the draft” is so mythological it gets asked in the comic proper, and I’ve never counted how many fics attempt to answer this question--from Kent’s point of view, even--but it’s gotta be, oh, hundreds. This story replays the situation from the perspective of an Aces staffer who just wants to do her job, and gets at the jarring discordance between the plot of OMGCP in its quest for social justice and the business of actual hockey. Important context is that this story was written around the time the comic was playing out the end of Y3 and start of Y4, and Bitty pointedly asked Jack the question, “why can’t we?” This story reframes the question as literal, rather than rhetorical. A sterling example of fanfic being a gloss on its source.

BONUS, podfics

hockeyed up | There are many things on Jack's mind. Namely: hockey, hockey, Bitty, hockey, anxiety, hockey, hockey, anxiety, Bitty, hockey, hockey, anxiety, and hockey. | A fic read aloud by its French-Canadian author. Also a relatively early OMGCP fanfic; composed while the first semester of Y2 was posting, the story suggests a version of OMGCP that was in some ways more and in other ways less complex than what it would turn into not long after. The real power of this podfic, however, is that it’s read by the writer, so you can hear the intended emphasis in every line. Also, because she’s French-Canadian, Sophie’s intonation is what I picture when I read or write dialogue for Jack.

maybe i’m waking up | It’s almost funny. All he ever wanted was to play hockey, to play in the NHL, to win the Cup. This—Samwell, the team, the Haus—was supposed to be just a detour, but now it feels more like a destination he failed to realize he’s already reached.(Or: Jack signs with the Falconers, graduates, and leaves. It's the hardest thing he's ever done. What comes after is even harder.) | Don’t get too excited; this isn’t finished. A podfic of probably the best-known, most-recced fic in OMGCP fandom. Striking for its use of metatext woven into the story, this is one of several early longform Jack/Bitty fics that posits that maybe Jack has a lot more development to undergo before he can really, truly, be okay--or be okay enough to be with Bitty? To be honest, this story strikes me now as too long, but the parts in it that work are effective beyond that which fanfic demands. Meanwhile, this audio version only covers six chapters, but it’s so slick, so well-realized, so true to the story. Podfic as art.

my own dear friends | Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.) | There’s previous little Jack/Shitty in this fandom and a lot less quality BDSM,

the city’s ours until the fall | Kent has been, historically, good at this—forgetting about things until suddenly he doesn’t, and then it’s like the scar has never been there in the first place, just the wound. (Or: Kent Parson lets himself be happy, after all this time.) | I’ve never read this fic and I never will. I cannot imagine how, no matter how good it is, it could compare to the version that lives in my head, with Kent’s voice so totally realized. Vocal fry and pathos, a languid energy that I still think about when I think about Parse.

the model home | It’s going to be better, and that’s great, but sometimes Jack thinks, why can’t it be good right now? | j/k j/k, this is a self-reminder to finally one day review this.

101 notes · View notes

tuiyla · 4 years

Text

A Definitive History of Bubbline

With “Obsidian” coming out in two days, it really is time for a definitive history of Marceline and Bubblegum’s relationship. And by that I mean the tumultuous road that led us to “Obsidian” from a production and fandom point of view. For a list of Bubbline episodes, check out my Bubbline Guide (and part two) - which I need to update, I know I know. For this post, I wanted to highlight how far this pairing has come and what Bubbline means to queer representation in children’s cartoons.

This is less of an analysis and more of an overview with links to more information on specific incidents to keep it (relatively) brief. I say it’s a definitive history but it isn’t an exhaustive one, so do check out the links included to learn more about how we got here. I realize not everyone cares about these kinds of things but I think it’s important to know how hard Adventure Time’s creators had to fight. Bubbline is a pioneer ship in many ways but it doesn’t always get the recognition it deserves.

Initial Concepts

As is the case with much of Adventure Time, the initial concept of who the characters of Bonnibel and Marceline were going to be is very different than what we ended up getting. @gunterfan1992 explores this and other production tidbits in depth in his book so I do recommend checking that out. The short version is that these two were created to be opposites and with a Betty and Veronica type dynamic in mind where they would both be love interest to the protagonist, Finn.

This didn’t quite end up being the case but remnants of this concept are seen in “Go With Me” (March, 2011), the episode with the first on-screen Bubbline interaction. As Marcy helps - and sabotages - Finn in asking Bonnie out, she also becomes a potential love interest for him but she shuts him down immediately. So while Finn’s crush on PB continues, the notion that Marceline would be part of a love triangle is dismissed. Instead, this first Bonnie and Marcy interaction established that the two already know each other and there’s some bitterness in that past.

“What Was Missing” and the Mathematical Controversy

A potential preexisting relationship between the two was further explored in “What Was Missing” (September 2011) just a season later. The episode was written and storyboarded by Rebecca Sugar and eventual showrunner Adam Muto. Sugar was responsible for much of the character depth added to Marceline and later even played, quite aptly, her mother in the Stakes miniseries. It was Sugar who wrote the now beyond iconic “I’m Just Your Problem” based on personal experiences and suggested that Marcy and Bonnie be queer characters with a complicated romantic past.

“What Was Missing” was hugely important in how it hinted at a complex relationship through character interactions, Marceline’s song, and the last scene twist with PB’s shirt. The AT crew were supportive of the idea and sneaked in plenty of queer subtext, but this is where I have to point out that 2011 was a very different time and it’s thanks, in part, to Bubbline that things have changed. Autostraddle’s article from back when covers what is now known as the Mathematical controversy. Audiences picked up on the subtext and Cartoon Network was not having it. The popularity of the ship soared but the execs were not taking to queer implications kindly.

Great Bubbline Drought

So, the ship has sailed but controversy looms over it. “What Was Missing” s subtle by today’s standards but it was enough to keep Marceline and Bubblegum apart for two years on-screen. Each character went through wonderful development in the meantime, as did the show itself, but there’s a certain sense of bitterness to what came to be known as the Great Bubbline Drought. CN got so afraid of the potential backlash that they waited two years to have a new episode featuring the pair, “Sky Witch” (July 2013), by which point Sugar had left AT to work on her own show, Steven Universe. I’m happy that Sugar got to create her own show and push for even more queer representation, but it’s also sad that she never got to write more for the ship she pioneered.

“Sky Witch” still happened, though, and featured even more subtext, from PB’s side this time around. The shirt returned and there was hope as Marcy and Bonnie were seen hanging out together more often (”Red Starved” and “Princess Day”). Another controversy threatened to emerge in August 2014 when Olivia Olson, Marceline’s voice actress said that creator Pendleton Ward had confirmed a pre-show Bubbline romance. It was a messy ordeal with deleted tweets and questions about whether the two could get together again in the series. Fortunately, though, things changed in the three years between 2011 to 2014 and another Bubbline drought didn’t follow.

The Season That Changed Everything

It took another two years after “Sky Witch” but the ball was finally, inevitably, relentlessly rolling. “Varmints” premiered in November 2015 and three episodes later, the Stakes miniseries kicked off. What season 7 meant wasn’t just breadcrumbs and (not so) subtle songs anymore: suddenly, there were too many Bubbline moments to count. “Varmints” served as a follow-up to “What Was Missing” and a final reconciliation, and though Stakes was primarily about Marcy, it also developed her relationship with Bonnie. Afterwards, it became clear that Bubbline was heading somewhere.

It’s worth noting that the cultural context also changed between when “Sky Witch” and “Varmints” aired. In December 2014, The Legend of Korra ended with Korra and Asami beginning their romantic relationship, and Rebecca Sugar was making Steven Universe more and more explicitly queer by the day. Adventure Time started the ball rolling but now it wasn’t alone as a popular Western cable cartoon with queer characters. However, Bubbline was still very much subtext at this point, just with significantly more hope of becoming more.

Late Series Entanglement

But at what point does subtext become plain text? Bubbline fans sure did have fun with that question between Stakes and the finale. Bonnie and Marcy became near inseparable, with most of their major appearances involving one another from this point on. These included the meet the adoptive dad date “Broke His Crown” (March 2016), the Elements miniseries (April 2017) and the nigh on obnoxiously on the nose “Marcy & Hunson” (December 2017). In fact, all but two of Marceline’s major appearances from season 7 on included Bonnie - the exceptions being “Everything Stays” as part of Stakes, and “Ketchup”, which really wasn’t any less gay.

Bubbline moments really did become too many to count, with the vast majority of them having romantic implications. And with queer representation becoming more and more prominent in Western animation, canon Bubbline romance seemed like a question of when rather than if. I’d like to point out here how this was often frustrating, though. After the very rocky start, this relationship was thriving and was really basically confirmed, but that last little push to make it undeniably a part of queer history was still needed.

“Come on!” - The End and Beyond

The almost three years that passed between Stakes and “Come Along With Me” (September 2018) were much more tolerable than the Drought; after all, there was plenty of Bubbline content in the later seasons. The big question as the finale came was whether Adventure Time would fizzle out on its early pioneer of a wlw ship or follow through, once and for all. Almost four years after LoK ended and just before season 1 of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power dropped, Marcy and Bonnie had an emotional moment, kissed on screen, and ended the series together.

The intricacies of why a kiss was needed as a signifier of romance is a discussion for another day. But wouldn’t it have been strange after almost a decade of build-up for them not to seal the deal with a kiss? And to think it almost didn’t happen, as by that point it was so obvious they were together. Again, I direct your attention towards Paul Thomas’s book, he explains how it was storyboard artist Hanna K. Nyström’s call to add this final detail. Because, come on! Sometimes, you need to be as clear as possible, and that’s the case with queer representation in animation.

Since the finale, the comics have been continuing the Bubbline train - which are not technically canon but one can have fun regardless. In any case, the existence of Marcy and Bonnie’s relationship, of their queer identities, is not something that can reasonably be denied. It was a long road, and, make no mistake, an arduous one, but this is the story of a win. A win for storytelling and a win for wlw relationships.

We’ll Build Our Own Forever

So, there you have it, a Bubbline timeline of sorts. In March of 2011 we had the first on-screen interaction and now, in November of 2020, we’re getting a 45-minute-long special with the two of them as the central characters. They’re canonically in love, with King Princess covers of Bubbline songs and more. I tried to contain myself, for once, and not write too much. I think it’s important that people have a general idea of just how monumental all of this is and how, even just 9 years ago, “Obsidian” would have been totally inconceivable.

Some of this might have come as a surprise to you. It’s certainly not been easy to get to where we are now with Bubbline and it’s yet to be seen how open “Obsidian” will be about the relationship. I’ve been talking about Bubbline for years and attempted to chronicle their relationship many times so I’m happy I’ve finally done it from this perspective as well.

Adventure Time: Distant Lands “Obsidian” is streaming on Nov 19 on HBO Max. If you can, stream it so we can show that there’s popular demand for stories like that of an angry vampire and a despotic piece of gum.

#Adventure Time #bubbline #obsidian #marceline abadeer #adventure time distant lands #at #pb #my thoughts #definitive history of bubbline #there you have it folks #princess bubblegum

111 notes · View notes

tloujm · 3 years

Text

Part XXIV: Teeth and All

Author’s Notes: This one’s a lengthy one at 3232 words. I was very happy with this one and its following chapters; I was on a roll when typing ‘em all out which, with WIP’s, is a very successful feeling. I hope you guys enjoy reading as much as I did writing it! This is part one if you will of the aforementioned canon inspired chapters.

Genre: A six piece bucket of fluff with a side of angst

Summary: You and Joel convince the new kid to break out her comfort zone by going on a scavenging trip. You want it to be at the science museum because of it’s agriculture collection and because it’s kid friendly. The car that the three of you ride in breaks down, but that doesn’t stop you guys. The museum is a surprise for the kid and needless to say, she opens up more from the fun of it all.

Ship: Joel Miller x Fem!reader “It’s gettin’ late.” Joel huffed as he looked down at the deflated tire on the passenger side. “Our destination is only a block out; we have just enough daylight to make it. I say we head there on foot,” He sighed again. “and make camp, then we can scavenge tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” You nodded before slamming your door shut. Kiddo did the same as she left the back seat.

“Hopefully the place got a tool box somewhere. Maybe in the maintenance closet or somethin’. Matter-a-fact, I’ll walk back while y’all start scavengin’ and change the tire out, then I’ll drive up and meet y’all.” All three of you took your gear from the trunk and set out.

One day, Joel had the idea of taking Kiddo on a little scavenging trip to see what she was comfortable with. While all of the other kids played and learned skills, she still seemed withdrawn. He figured after a few months of her settling into Jackson, she would be okay with going back out into the world again. The two of you were going to be by her side the whole time and you reminded her of that every so often.

Joel arranged for the three of you to ride in a pick up truck just in case any one of you found something big to scavenge. The destination was a museum of science and natural history. He didn’t see the point of going to a museum, but you recommended the spot because of its possible collection of agricultural resources as well as the fact that Kiddo might find it interesting.

You were in the passenger seat reading the map for him while she was in the back reading a comic book when all of a sudden the car swerved on its own. He was able to quickly gain back control of it, but he was just as confused as you were as to why it happened. He pulled over and slowed the vehicle to a stop before asking if the two of you were ok. He looked back to watch Kiddo nod. During the following silence, the two of you figured out what was wrong. Air hissed from the back passenger side and if you stayed still long enough, you could feel the car dipping as well. Joel got out and walked around until he found the culprit. It was nearing the end of summer, but it was still hot, so you swung the door open to let in some air and watched as he assessed the damage.

His fists were placed steady on his hips. “Good news is that this is the only tire with a leak. Also good news is that we have a spare and a jack in the bed.”

“You can fix it so we can get there, right? I swear, this couldn’t have happened in like 5 more minutes ‘cause the place is like a half a mile down the road.”

“I know, I know it is. The bad news, though, is that I ain’t got any tools. Now, how am I supposed to get these lugnuts off?”

“Oh, you can’t just twist them off?” You offered, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head with a gentle smile. “It don’t quite work like that, darlin’.”

******

“Hey, darlin’, come look at this,” Joel whispered in a deep yet soft voice. “Where’s Kiddo?” He crouched down before looking back to find you two. Quietly he beckoned you forward. She followed suit and crouched down right next to him. “See it? Just through there. Look.” He pointed to a particularly lush section of the wooded area that the three of you were walking on the outskirts of. “Ya see it?” He looked down and asked her. He watched as Kiddo’s face transform from confusion to astonishment. He knew that she had finally seen it. “You ever seen a whole family of deer like that before?” She shook her head, eyes still focused on them. There were 3 baby deer, 2 does and 2 bucks. They were all lazily grazing.

“Let’s cut through here,” You began in a hushed tone with the map unfolded in your hands. “It’ll take us to the back end of the property, but we’ll get there a little quicker.”

Joel looked up at the sun growing closer to the horizon. “Alright.”

******

According to the map, the three of you were going to be approaching the museum’s garden any minute now. You assumed it was going to be hiding in plain sight given the garden’s overgrowth and its proximity to the woods. Your eyes were glued to the outstretched paper when you heard a loud gasp. You immediately knew it was from Kiddo. You followed her gaze only for your eyes to meet a life size rendition of a tyrannosaurus rex.

“Well I’ll be. Won’t you look at that.” Joel exclaimed.

You folded your map and put it away. “We’re here.”

A smile broke across Kiddo’s face as she ran up to the statue. It was hauntingly beautiful. Vines of leaves grew along the legs and wrapped itself up around its body. It stood in the middle of a large, deep fountain of water. The statue was nearly as tall as the trees surrounding it. A giggle even escaped her mouth as she ran up to get a closer look. Joel yelled out for her to be careful. His gaze scouted the area to make sure they were alone. You walked up to the information plaque next to the dinosaur.

“King of the tyrant lizards.” You read.

Joel walked up behind you. “That’s a big boy alright.” You continued to read more when Kiddo started to casually climb the T-Rex from its tail. “Hey now, what are you gettin’ up to?” She didn’t respond to him. “Kiddo, be careful! It’s gettin’ darker out. I need you to watch your step!” He shouted up at her as she quickly reached it’s neck. He was hoping that this verbal realization would compel her to turn around and get off, but she continued to walk closer to the head. You heard your husband let out an exasperated sigh. “Can you talk to her?”

“She’s already up there. I trust that she’ll be careful. Besides, what am I gonna say that you haven’t already?” You reasoned. Joel was beginning to get annoyed with your lack of worry and still wished that you’d say something. Maybe she’d listen to you. He looked back up at the girl with a backdrop of an orange and purple sky behind her. “Just don’t die up there, ok?” Was all he could think to say. He had meant for it to come out casual and lighthearted, but his voice broke at the beginning. He sensed a cloud of melancholy impeding as his chest began to tighten.

“Joel?” He looked back down and saw you place your hand on his chest.

“I’m alright.” He meant it, or at least he wanted to. He tried his best to push away the sad memories but he knew it was easier said than done. A childish bellow snatched his attention away from you as he looked back up to find Kiddo now standing on the dino’s head. She was smiling, teeth and all. You could only imagine how liberated she felt in that moment.

“She’s a courageous one, I’ll give you that.” You said proudly of her.

“You better not be thinkin’ about jumping. Just climb back down. I’ll meet you at the tail.” He requested. Even from that distance, the two held each other’s gaze. He was pleading and anxious; she was testing and teasing.

“Rooooaaaarrrrr!” She screamed out as she jumped from the T-Rex’s head.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Joel yelled out. The two of you could do nothing but watch and wait. Admittedly, you did not think she would go so far as to jump. Suddenly, her head popped up over the surface of the vaguely green water. She gulped in a deep breath before smiling. Joel finally let out a breath that he hadn’t known he was holding. She climbed out the fountain dripping wet and laughing to which he just shook his head and walked away toward the entrance.

“I give that dive a 10 out of 10, love.” You said to her in a hushed tone. He still heard you as you condoned the behaviour.

The three of you entered through the busted glass doors of the back entrance. The area was dilapidated and almost bare. To your left, however, you found a rack with a single hat on it. It was a wide brimmed, brown hat similar to what Indiana Jones wore. You doubted she knew who that was. Still, you called her over and dusted the hat off before placing it on her head. She gifted you with another smile. Joel took a look at her with it on and grunted before walking on by. You watched as she ran off into a certain direction before going up to him.

“Are you jealous?” You questioned lightheartedly.

“Hmm?”

“Of the hat? If you ask nice enough, I’m sure she’ll let you try it on.”

“I don’t want to try on the hat.” He responded matter of factly. He turned to you. “We need to sweep the place before we can lay our heads down anywhere tonight.”

“I agree.”

There was a bout of silence before he continued again. “What was that back there?” Joel asked.

“What do you mean?” You brows furrowed.

“Her climbing and jumping, you being so...nonchalant about it. We’re lucky she didn’t break anything, (Y/N).”

“I didn’t think she was going to jump, so yes we are lucky with that.”

“She could have slipped, (Y/N)! What would you have done if she died, huh? Her body just...just laying there in your arms.” He looked down at his own arms as the memories replayed in his head. It was too late for him to stop them. His adams apple moved as he gulped. “You gave me such a hard time about going camping because you were so fearful of the outside world---”

“That was not fear, that was caution!” You firmly asserted.

“Well, where was that caution a few moments ago? She was yelling at the top of her lungs. That could have attracted hunters and infected and Lord knows what else.”

“You were yelling too!” You brought up.

“For her to get off!” He countered. He took a moment to inhale and exhale. “The difference between the camping trip and here is that I planned it out. I chose the area, I checked the area, I prepped the area. I did it all not only to be safe, but to give you peace of mind. This area is new to us. We need to treat it as such.” He reprimanded you and, while logically you knew he was justified, you hated it. You decided to hold your tongue, however, until you got back home. You didn’t want to hash it out in a potentially triggering environment for him, especially with the kid around.

He shook his head while avoiding eye contact with you. “Maybe you were right, maybe you’re not ready.”

“Ready for what?” Your brows furrowed even deeper. You suspected what he had meant. “Ready for what, Joel?”

“Ready to be a parent.” He responded simply. You were taken aback at this point.

“You didn’t seem to think I wasn’t ready all those times you came inside me. You knew what you were doing!” Your voice raised slightly causing Joel to scan the room and see if Kiddo was of earshot.

“Where is she?” He heard you take in a breath to say more, but he cut you off.

“I saw her go that way a few minutes ago.” You began walking in said direction. You rounded the corner only to find two doorways and a dead end.

A scuffling sound emitted out of one of them. The two of you exchanged glances and silently agreed to respectively sweep each room. Your hand hovered over the gun tucked in the waist of your pants as you entered. They fell limp to your side when you saw that she was the source of the sounds. As soon as Joel was done with his sweep, he met up with you in the other room only to pause behind you. The two of you watched on as she made faces in the mirror with the hat on. He leaned against the threshold and watched on with a small smile on his face. He thought back to the times when he would beg Sarah to get out the bathroom so he could use it just because she wanted to make faces at herself in the mirror above the sink. It was at that point, he invested in a wall mirror to go on the back of her bedroom door for which both of them were grateful.

Joel beckoned them to leave the restroom. At this point, the sun was hanging very low in the sky allowing for a minimal amount of light to enter through the windows. The three of you broke out your flashlights and continued to sweep the building together. While you and Joel stealthily scoured the large exhibition room, Kiddo stopped to admire another rendition of a dinosaur. She flashed her light over its name displayed on the wall behind it: ‘Stegosaurus’. She walked up to the fenced display and placed her hat on its head. She stood back to proudly admire what she had done.

“What’s that there?” Joel flashed his light on her and the dinosaur. You followed suit.

“It’s exactly what it looks like.” You said flatly.

“Well, it looks like a hat on a dinosaur.”

“It’s a hat-o-saur obviously.” You responded just as flatly despite feeding into Kiddo’s playfulness. She smiled as she hopped up to retrieve her hat. His light followed her as she moved on to a triceratops. The stature of the animal was larger, so she climbed the short fence and placed her hat on its head as well.

“Hey, is this gonna be a thing?” He asked her, knowing she wouldn’t respond. “Please don’t let it be a thing…” He mumbled to himself. He watched as she began to climb the fence again and raced to meet her at the display. Being much taller, he simply reached over and slid the hat off the dino’s head. “Whoa, don’t wanna be on the business end of those horns.” She reached up to him to take it, but he laid it on top of his head instead. He gave her a smug smirk. “Mine now, Kiddo.” The three of you walked on into an adjoining exhibition room that displayed nothing but dinosaur skulls.

“My God, look how thick this one’s skull is.” You said under your breath. Still, Joel heard you.

He walked up next to you and shined his light on it at different angles. “Catch it in the right light and…boom! Tommy!” You stifled a laugh.

“I’m telling him you said that too.” You teased, trying to maintain a flat tone.

“Please don’t.”

“You’re his big brother, what is he gonna do?” You teased again.

“Exactly, he’s my younger brother, so he has more energy to beat me up over it.”

You decided to sweep a small room off to the side. It looked administrative. As soon as you gave it the all clear, a light bulb went off in your head. If he wanted to all of a sudden be playful and act like he didn’t just insult your maturity a few minutes ago, so could you. Silently, you beckoned Kiddo to sit on your lap as you sat at the desk. It didn’t take long for Joel to follow. As soon as his head peaked past the doorway, you picked up the long dead phone.

“Oh, hello. Sorry, the dinosaurs are busy right now.” You feigned a conversation.

“What are you doing?” He crossed his arms.

“Oh, wait! One of the dinosaurs just arrived.” You took the phone away from your ear and laid it against your chest. “Joel, it’s for you.” You smiled smugly.

“Very funny.” He said flatly. You couldn’t tell if it was his normal dry humor or if he really didn’t like the joke.

You giggled. “It was pretty funny, actually.” He watched as Kiddo doubled over in laughter before leaving the room. “Did you get it?” You asked him. “I know you got it.” You said to her.

“Oh, I get it.” His voice echoed in a playful tone that gave your mind a little bit of ease. The two of you moved on to the next room looking for him only to find a set of stairs. At the top, you saw him in the distance gazing at something beyond the fence he was standing by. You walked closer to reveal his line of sight. It was a part of the brachiosaurus display. The dinosaur was so tall that its head reached the second floor. Without looking back at you, he spoke. “Kinda looks like a giraffe, don’t it?”

“It does.” You agreed softly. In that moment, you found it incredibly hard to be mad at him.

The two of you were in Utah, just miles away from the hospital, from the Fireflies. You guys were inside this building, you couldn’t remember why anymore, but all of a sudden, you saw a giraffe staring at you through a window. A giraffe! You had to do a double take. What you did remember was Joel being upset that you didn’t respond to him when he asked if you were alright. You couldn’t help but be entranced by the colossal beast chewing on the leaves that grew alongside the building. You finally came to and asked him if he saw what you had. His eyes were full of astonishment the same way Kiddo’s were when she saw the T-Rex. He bravely approached the edge of the building, where the wall was no longer there, to pet it. He promised you that he would not scare it away and he kept his word. You remembered him telling you that it was alright as he motioned for you to join him. His large hand ghosted yours and guided it onto the giraffe's neck. It was the most intimate you had been with him. Your back was damn near pressed up against his chest as he continued to pet as well. Your eyes glanced at the sharp teeth of the dino and it made you think back to when the giraffe stuck out it’s tongue; it was so long. You laughed and looked back at him. He was smiling too, smiling at you, teeth and all.

He finally looked back at you to read your face. He could tell you were reliving the same memory as he. Kiddo’s approaching footsteps attracted his attention to her. He took the hat off and placed it back on her head. She let it sit there for a moment before giving it back to him with a friendly smile. Without words, he thanked her. He let his hands roam over the material for a moment before gently tossing it onto the Brachiosaurus’ head. It landed perfectly.

“I see the appeal.” His deep voice muttered.

#The Last of Us #The Last of Us 2 #The Last of Us II #the last of us joel #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou II #tlou 2 #tlou part 2 #Joel Miller #joel x reader #joel/reader #tlou joel #Joel Miller x Fem!Reader #joel x fem!reader #naughty dog

22 notes · View notes

sxveme-2 · 4 years

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Edited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Five: The One with the Tour

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2476

Scott Harvey was a manipulative man. He knew how to get what he wanted when he wanted and was never one to take no for an answer. He'd do whatever it took to ensure he had people wrapped around his finger so that he could snap his fingers and have what he desired in his hands at a moment’s notice. And Lily fell for that. She became the next in a long line of women who were eating out of the palm of his hand, all because he promised her the world. He promised her security, happiness, and peace. Instead, she got fear, chaos, and emotional trauma. The exact thing she was terrified of. He used her anxiety against her, used the fragility of her mind to keep her trapped in his web like a fly.

She was sort of thankful for Mary. she was a sweet woman, the two got along and were pretty amicable. Lily knew if she needed anything, Mary would help out, and vice versa. Because you can have a messy marriage, but keep a healthy relationship with the wrecking ball that destroyed the thin wall that still stood. Lily was grateful for Mary because she was able to open the blonde’s eyes to see what was going on. The web of lies that Scott had caught Lily in, like a spider, finding its next meal.

And every time she saw him, saw that sideways smile and forehead creases, all of the emotions he caused caught up to Lily in a ball, and took up camp in the middle of her throat, rendering her speechless for the majority of their brief conversations. Which is where we pick up, in the hallway of Scott and Mary's apartment building, Scott holding his daughter, Leila, in his arms. something Lily didn't believe she had ever seen her ex do with their son.

"Traffic was insane...sorry I'm a little late." Lily mumbled, her broken eyes darting everywhere, in an attempt to keep them from making contact with the deep-set hazel of Scott’s iris'.

"Don't apologize. I'll never complain about spending a bit longer with Hunter." Scott said, his voice still as soft as a marshmallow. Lily couldn't help but wince ever so gently as it floated into her ears, sending a rush of adrenaline and nerves to her heart, picking up its pace.

"Mom!" a young boy’s voice called before bursting past the older man, almost knocking down his mother, gripping onto her waist.

"Hey kiddo," Lily smiled, hand running through the blonde locks atop of her son’s head, smiling gently as he hid his face into her side. turning her attention back to Scott, she gave a weak smile, "Thanks for letting me pick him up early. my parents are coming down for dinner."

“No problem. Say hi to Abel and Alicia for me," Scott smiled, causing a shiver to run down Lily's spine. The idea of saying that Scott said hi made Lily sick to her stomach. Her parents despised the father of their grandson, for good reason. As far as the Osborne parents were concerned, Scott was a dead man, "See ya, buddy."

Saying a quick goodbye, Lily and Hunter found themselves back in the car as quickly as the conversation that just happened. Hunter was quiet at first, waiting for Lily to regain her composure for the second time that day. Her forehead rested on the leather of her steering wheel, deep breaths escaping her lips as her fingers wrapped around the wheel. A few moments later, Lily relaxed back into her seat, turning on the car.

"So Grandma and Grandpa are coming over?" Hunter asked, breaking the comfortable silence the mother and son had going on, "When did you find out?"

Lily tried her best to repress the smile the threatened to explode onto her face. She loved giving Hunter surprises. With everything the boy has been through, being able to see his face light up when he's faced with something unexpected was the only high she'd ever need. It was rare to see such extreme emotion out of Hunter, and let alone something as raw as the joy he gets with surprises. And this one that she had planned, it would go down in history. He would be talking about it for ages to come, for the rest of his life even. That's what Lily wanted, for him to create perfect childhood memories he'd be able to tell his kids in the future. To gather them up around the table at Christmas and pass stories around about how he and Grandma spent a day with Earth’s mightiest heroes and got to see where they worked. That was the goal of a parent, to make their child's days as memorable as they could.

"Oh the other day they mentioned it, but nothing was ever confirmed. I got a text this morning from Grandma about it," Lily hummed nonchalantly as she pulled out of the Brooklyn apartment complex, and turned onto the busy roads.

Connecting his phone to the Apple car play that came with the vehicle, Hunter spoke again, "That'll be nice. I know you miss seeing them sometimes. Long Island is so far away from Manhattan, why did you move away?"

Lily's smile grew wide, the dimple in her cheek creating a cavern of happiness at her son’s words. He was as intuitive as they come, and as observant as all get out. Truly, Lily believed herself to be one of the luckiest mothers in the world to be blessed with an angel-like Hunter. He was pure of heart and as sharp as a whip. He always picked up on Lily's microaggressions, and all of the small mannerisms she showed while in certain moods. She was never sure how he became as smart as he did, but doctors insisted it was because of her intelligence. That it carried on down to her son, and how he reflected her as a child. And Lily lived a loving and wonderful childhood, so hopefully, that too would relay to her son.

Reaching over to ruffle his hair, Lily let out a gentle sigh, "Well Hunter, I moved out here to the city with Auntie Gen when I graduated high school. I got into Columbia University, which was my dream school. So I came out here to study, while Aunt Gen was over in NYU, studying business. I moved out here for the opportunity, and I'm glad I did because you were the result."

Hunter let out a small noise as he acknowledged the story that his mother just shared while scanning Spotify for the best playlist. The two loved the eighties and nineties, so he settled on a premade group of songs from that era. The bass boomed throughout the car as the two began to belt out the lyrics to Billie Jean by Michael Jackson. It was moments like these when Lily felt most content. Just her and Hunter, living their best lives together as they sang to oldies but goodies. Being able to see his eyes light up whenever they passed a cool-looking building or when they saw a cute dog or one that looked like Joey. Her favourite moment though, the cream of the crop is when he sings. Though not a professional, he always looked so at ease while letting his voice dance through the car.

About twenty minutes into the drive, he caught on though, "This isn't the way home. Where are we going?" his voice rang, turning down the volume of the Lionel Richie.

She had to think quickly. If he noticed the slightest of hesitation in Lily's speech, the surprise would be blown, and he wouldn't be surprised when they didn't stop at home. So, she did what she thought would throw him off the most, "We've gotta hit a grocery store on the way home. Aunt Gen needs something for the cafe and this is the only place that sells it near here. Is that okay kiddo?"

Nodding, he turned the music back up. This meant that he believed what she said. If he didn't, he'd press on further. Interrogating Lily until he got the truth out of her. He would make a hell of a lawyer in the future, due to the strange ability he had of getting into people’s minds. He was like Scott in that way, but different at the same time. He never used it to manipulate, or use people, but to find out the truth. Get the answers. learn. That was Hunter’s goal, not to make people the puppets in his little game. he was curious, that was all.

Shortly after the small conversation between the two introverts, Lily took the turn that would lead them straight to the compound. Her aged eyes glanced towards the world that sat in her passenger seat. He hadn't noticed yet, and Lily was thankful. It would be more exhilarating if he didn't realize until they went up to the door. Knocking on the door and having someone like Captain America answer? Now that was something that Lily would love to witness. To see her son's heart swell at the sight of one of his heroes answering the door. She could only imagine what he would say, and couldn't seem to fathom how he would react.

Pulling into the parking lot, Lily stopped the car and turned it off, capturing Hunters’ attention. He sat up in his seat and glanced out the window, a confused yet intrigued look masking his typical stoic facial expression. Stepping out of the car, Lily gestured with her left hand to follow her up towards the doors. Hesitantly, Hunter followed along, his shoes making gentle noises on the rocks and pebbles below his feet.

"Where are we?" he questioned, hand slipping into the fragile one of his mothers, "and why are your hands always so cold?"

Lily remained silent, simply walking up the stairs of the compound. Her neck craned to look down at the bewildered boy, who couldn't help but swivel his head around in an attempt to recognize his surroundings. But the only time he would have ever seen this place was maybe in pictures, so Lily was sure that she had gotten the surprise in the bag. That she was able to dupe the boy that could rarely ever be surprised. Now that would be an accomplishment.

Lily's free hand reached up and knocked on the grey doors in front of them, pursing and nibbling on her lips in an attempt to hide the mischievous and prideful grin that threatened to give away the present. She had been looking forward to this moment the entire car ride, hardly being able to contain the excitement that rushed through her veins at the idea of her son’s wildest dreams coming true. Well, his wildest dream would be to become an Avenger or any sort of superhero. But a mother could only do so much.

Voices rang out behind the door before it was swung open to reveal Sam Wilson. The man who had originally offered to take the eleven-year-old boy on a tour of the place, "Lily! you made it, was starting to get worried you two would bail on us," he teased, chocolate brown eyes readjusting to look down at the blonde boy beside Lily, "Hey Hunter, nice to see you again."

Her son’s hand had slipped out of her own, which caught Lily's attention. she looked down at him and felt her heart swell about a million times bigger than it already was. His smile reached ear to ear, cheeks growing to a rosy red and his pupils dilated to eleven. He seemed frozen, stuck to his one position on the porch step of the Avengers compound. Her frail hand tapped the boy on the back, urging him to respond and walk into the building.

"He's a tad awestruck it seems," Lily chuckled, taking his small hand into her own and walking past the threshold of the home, "It took me a bit to find this place."

"Privacy is key for us," a voice rang out from a bit away. Lily's eyes averted towards the sound and she spotted Captain America. The Captain America. Steve Rogers. Every girl’s dream man. He was even more gorgeous in person, and Lily couldn't help but feel choked up as she looked at him. The way his chest looked as though it was going to burst through the fabric of his shirt, or how she could see his sky blue eyes from eight meters away, "Glad you guys could make it. Picked a perfect day, everyone’s around."

"Why don't I take Hunter down through the compound so he can get the full tour," Sam grinned down at the beaming boy, "Will you be joining us, Ms. Osborne?"

Oh no. If she went, her mind wouldn't be able to handle it. The idea of walking around with her son in a place like this was already overwhelming. Feeling as though she should be able to do more to give him the luxury life he so badly deserved. Making him feel as though he was the king of the world. Not to mention, the entire place itself was a lot to take in. And with her anxiety already running high today, it would be better for Lily's mind and heart to wait out in the car or something. Plus, Hunter was with the Falcon, she had no worries.

"It's okay, you two go have fun, I'll wait in the car," Lily said, a tight smile pulling at the sides of her lips as she ran a thumb across her son’s chin, nodding for him to follow the superhero. And as if he was in a trance, Hunter followed Sam like a zombie, or may a dog following a treat. Either would work in this scenario.

"Oh no don't go wait in your car, come sit with us. I'm sure Bucky wouldn't mind seeing you again after your run-in yesterday," Steve smiled, making Lily's knees feel like they had miraculously turned into jello, "He's making blueberry pancakes for a part of the team."

Lily's mouth ran dry. Blueberry pancakes. Just like the ones she had gotten the day prior. The ones he had asked her about. Her cheeks grew hot as a magenta colour blush forced itself onto them, giving away the embarrassment and intrigue she had. It couldn't have been anything. He was just making blueberry pancakes. That's normal. It was an average thing for people to do. Especially when you've got nothing else to do. right?

"He knew you may have been coming, that's why he made them." Steve whispered as he offered his arm for Lily, beginning to lead her towards the kitchen.

So he did make them on purpose.

17 notes · View notes

batfamilysays · 3 years

Text

NUMBER NEIGHBOR

in which damian wayne meets his number neighbor

old draft of oc x damian

wc: 3468

GOTHAM CITY

TINSLEY'S APARTMENT

06:32 PM

Friday comes too quickly and Damian is nowhere near ready.

His lips are still busted open from the preceding evening’s scouting and his hairs grown out far too long, hanging in tufts right below his brow and curling the daintiest bit in a mess of matte black. Small dark rings kiss his tanned skin and tug at the lids of his jade eyes, dulling the color every so slightly to a muted green.

Nothing is right.

Every article of clothing in his wardrobe suddenly seems inadequate for meeting the girl he has been anxiously anticipating ever since he sent the text. He’d probably still be trying to decide on what garment to wear had it not been for Jason chucking a pair of jeans at him and telling him to leave.

Damian isn't dense, he recognizes he's quite aloof at first, he knows his demeanor is unsettling, so as he stood in front of her apartment complex, arm raising to knock, his mind begins to wander.

Was this worth it?

Was the prospect of her getting hurt enough to make Damian turn around, could that ever-growing cavity in his stomach be filled by someone else’s presence? Someone, he doesn’t care about half as much as Tinsley? Someone who didn’t fill it with maddening butterflies and a troublesome warmth. Or could perhaps Damian be allowed this? Allowed this small wedge of pleasure in a world that seemed to grant him nothing but iniquity and desolation?

Fortunately for everyone involved, he didn’t have time to decide for himself as the door swung open and a pair of arms encased his torso with enough force he stumbled back against the hallway’s stained walls and knocked his head against the plaster with a disquieting thud!

An instinct burned into him since childhood shouts, screams at him to push whomever this was away, and retaliate with tenfold that amount of brutality. Yet somehow he can’t quite hear outcries, they seem muffled against the vanilla and honey redolence that embraces him, filling that basin in his stomach to the brink with warm marmalade and crystalized sugar.

“Damian!” such a faint voice whispers, so soft the Wayne almost doesn’t catch it over his shooting heart at the close proximity with the girl he was only just now identifying as Tinsley Nolans, his number neighbor, ‘“Oh my god this is such a surreal experience.”

Hesitantly Damian returns the embrace, his hands engulf the shorter woman in his arms and the scent of her fragaria shampoo and conditioner saturating his senses in a wonderful mellow mix. Her hair blinds him and Tinsley couldn’t help but notice how delicately he was touching her, it was as though she was glass and he was a man destined to shatter it.

It was as though the lion had fallen in love with the lamb.

“You smell really good.” Damian says through a sigh, only belatedly realizing just how awkward that was after the words leave his throat, “Oh my god that sounds so creepy I didn’t mean it-”

“You smell really good too,” It wasn’t what Tinsley had planned to say but if it would make Damian less uncomfortable she was okay with scraping her original sappy speech - besides he really does smell good, “Like mint and smog.”

He knows the smokey fragrance is from the gas bomb he had used the night prior on a few of the riddler’s henchmen, but Damian lets that thought drift peacefully from his head as her hands began playing with the fabric of his shirt, her lips moving in small puffs as she says, “It’s really crazy to see you, it’s like I’m meeting my best friend for the first time.”

The reply he goes with is cheesy, but he can’t find it in himself to care, “I am seeing my best friend for the first time.”

Drawing away with a grin Damian allows himself this one self-indulgent act, allows himself to drink in the slightly shorter girl in front of him, her sandals adding at least an inch in height with their white chunky heels and strappy bases. Tinsley’s hair was laying in long strands across her shoulders, each perfectly curling at the end and crooking up at the base of her neck. A flannel was thrown indolently around her shoulders to add a bit of warmth to the grey cropped shirt and ripped black jeans and Damian couldn’t help but inhale at the peaks of bronzed skin that appeared with every movement she made.

Shaking his head Damian attempts to refocus on her smirking face, a smug look gliding across her eyes like koi fish swimming their deft routine. With the quick realization, he hasn’t said anything for a good two minutes, Damian quickly spouts out, “You look um-nice Ley,”

“You don’t look too bad yourself edgelord,” She adds a playful wink and loops their arms together with comfortable ease, almost as though she knows that’s how they’re meant to be, connected, “C’mon let’s go I’m dying for taco bell,”

Damian, without reluctance, permits his body to decompress, the tension and nerves seeping out with every warm glance she offered and the soft touch of her skin against his flesh, “I don’t know how you can stomach that garbage,”

“Tsk. Such a rich boy thing to say,” Stopping briefly to pop her head inside the flat Tinsley yells, “See you tonight!” To her mother - who roars a warning to Damian - and resumes dragging the much larger man down the corridor with her.

“I’d be careful with what you say, I’m the one with a license after all,” Damian simpers and extracts the keys from his pocket, wagging them in front of Tinsley face teasingly, satisfied with himself as she lets out a childish huff and pouts in a fashion he finds sinfully adorable.

“I regret telling you that wholeheartedly, besides I’ve got my redo in two weeks soo I’ll be the one driving you places, “ Tinsley snatches the keys from his arm and dashes down the hall, only turning back around for a second to stick out her tongue and wink, emitting a boisterous, “Race ya!”

With a playful roll of his eyes, Damian pursues her, knowing full well he can catch up to her with ease if he so chooses to.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he watches from behind as Tinsley twirls and titters as if a ballerina executing a routine only she knows of. Damian wasn’t religious by any means, but this - this was something eternal, something sacred. That carefree expression etched into her face as she reaches the end of the hall, those teasing insults she spews at him while walking to the elevator, the warmth of her skin against his own as she places the keys in his hands and climbs into the passenger side of the car.

It prompted a feeling to froth in Damian’s chest, a feeling he never wanted to be rid of, a feeling that made the pit in his stomach seem not so deafening after all.

GOTHAM CITY WAYNE MANOR 07:02 PM

Driving back to the manor was an experience - to say the least, and Damian found himself learning a few different things.

Firstly, She was a wretched singer, throughout the complete car ride her bellows of off-key glee songs left Damian to regret not insisting control of the aux.

Secondly, She really was awful on the road, she screamed every time the car went over train tracks and went on and on about being crushed by two trucks and becoming a truck sandwich if Damian ever got too close to other cars.

Lastly, Damian is absolutely smitten with her.

The sky had turned frigid in the half an hour it took to arrive at the manor, it lays across them like a white blanket of frost and punctuates each of their breaths with puffs of grey- something Tinsley took benefit of when doing her red hood impression with the mock smoke of a cigarette.

Damian walks up to the house, his hand interlocked with Tinsley’s for what he would never admit to being for anything other than warmth.

The manor really is quite fantastical, with noble pedestals of brown and beige driving up to the roof, complex patterns incised into the granite walls and alabaster steps, each window a darkened hue that makes them seem all the more ambiguous than Tinsley already thought them to be.

A key is fitted into the cold doorknob and Tinsley smiles as Damian yanks her inside, a small yelp leaving her lips as he does so with a probably unnecessary amount of force. Though, in his defense, he didn’t want to waste any time that could be spent inside with her instead of in the freezing night.

“I cannot believe you live here…” Tinsley allows herself to drink in the magnificent interior design, her heart swelling when she directs her gaze back at Damian, whose own eyes have been locked on her the whole time, the same expression coating his eyes when looking at her that she had looking at the structure, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Damian swears his heart skips a beat, and so he rather than confront the emotions and pressure fabricating in his gut he releases her hand and walks over to the couch, his back turned to the dejected expression Tinsley holds.

“Soooooo,” Tinsley trails off and plops onto the almost comically large couch, the pearly white cushion sinking under her weight and fluffing out around her head, “I’m still a firm believe we should order Taco bell and watch Twilight.”

Setting next to her Damian kicks off his converse, facing her with one eyebrow raised, “Ah yes cause I’m a well-known vampire fanatic.”

Tinsley sits up and punches his shoulder without any malice, her fist barely being felt through Damian’s thick jacket, “Ya know what buckeroo it’s good! Yeah, the acting is less than subpar but the story arc is great!”

With a swift flick of his wrists, he grabs her hands in his own, “Doesn’t an 18-year-old end up with a literal fetus?”

Though Damian may not have been the biggest movie watcher he had read his fair share of cheesy romance novels - for research purposes of course - and twilight was most certainly included in that list.

“That’s not canon!” She argues, twisting so she was on top of him, arms still pinned to his.

“Didn’t the author write it?” Damian easily flips them a second time, the urge to be tender overwhelming despite the usual harshness in his fighting. But this wasn’t a fight - not really - and he needed to get used to that. Because with Tinsley it never would be a fight.

Scrunching her eyebrows together in thought Tinsley groans, pouting out her bottom lip as her list of arguments ran out, so instead a simple “Shuddup!” would have to suffice.

It was only then did Damian realize the position they were in. Tinsley pinned under him, her brown hair a makeshift halo under the fluorescent yellow lights and casting a yellow glow to her face, which almost seems to radiate pure rapture as she beams at him, such heat and affection it makes Damian want to cry.

He’s a murder. And murders don’t deserve this. No matter how much he wants too.

Getting up Damian turns his attention back to the screen, face heating up as he flicks the screen on, “So what do you want to watch?

GOTHAM CITY

CITY ROOFTOPS

12:57

Wind ruffles through his matte black hair and the cold brings his jade eyes to tears, the stinging of wetness against his eyelids burning like chlorine and sunscreen on a blistering summer’s day. Everything seems to anger him nowadays, the way the sun sets far too late on the horizon, how it barely caresses the moon and instead engulfs it, not a bit of fragility in the proficient routine they continuously dance. Even his telephone appears to be in opposition with him, invariably buzzing to life with sweet texts from the one person he refuses to be in contact with but so desperately desires to.

Perhaps he was a bad person, Damian, had mulled over this thought all of last night, the words replaying in his head until they didn’t taste correct on his tongue or sound right for his ears. They reappear at the forefront now, when he is dawned in his vigilante attire and perched on Tinsley’s rooftop with the claim to be patrolling for crime when everyone knows that was most certainly not the reason for him being there.

Seven Days. For seven days Damian has ignored every one of Tinsley’s persistent calls and texts, the fear of falling too deep for a girl who could most certainly do better than him devouring every bit of his soul. Eventually, the calls had trickled out and the texts became sparse until she finally cut him off altogether. He wanted to blame Tinsley at first, wanted so badly to make their devastating separation her fault when in actuality it was all Damian.

He had been the one terrified of getting hurt. He was the one who was scared she’d leave him. He was the one who knew she could do better. He was the one everyone abandoned. He was the one no one wanted. He was the one who had fallen in love with a girl on the internet.

Everyone had tried to help in their own ways, Bruce had tried for days to figure out what was wrong, even threatening to take him off duty if he didn’t tell him. Dick had taken him out for ice cream in the hopes of cheering him up. Jason took Damian to shoot things, Duke spared with him to let him relieve stress, Stephanie had bought him cat toys for Alfred, Barbra had gotten him a fresh set of katanas, and Tim had sat down and just talked with him. In a way Damian couldn’t explain, this warmed his heart and filled the bits and crevices of the basin in this stomach (Especially Tim who - in a weird way - Damian was closest to)

None of the attempted persuasions worked though and eventually, Damian stopped checking the messages and the hole in his chest expanded tenfold, so large and opaque he was fearful it would swallow him whole if he didn’t find something to fill it, this would likely prove to be challenging seeing as though only two people had ever been able to completely fill the irksome hole.

His mother was the first and most prominent, but after using him for years she threw him out, discarding the son to his father after training him to kill and feel nothing but a wave of numbness. After training him to be a monster. His father hadn’t wanted him at first, he was the product of manipulation and abuse, why would anyone want that? But Bruce had to take him, despite his original wishes, and even if Dick assured Damian that Bruce did love him the youngest Wayne couldn’t find it in himself to believe that.

Tinsley Elowen Nolans was the second. But now that she was gone Damian felt as though the hole had grown in size, the only parts in him unconsumed by the darkness where the spots reserved for his family. He knew that if he had simply allowed himself to open up to Tim, Dick, Jason, even Duke that they could possibly fill the cavity. But he didn’t want their warmth. He wanted hers.

Except he couldn’t have hers.

He watches silently as Tinsley walks up to the building, fiddling with her yellow keychain to find the correct one to unlock the apartment complex doors. This was the usual routine she took, what wasn’t usual was what she does next. Damian quirks a brow under his mask as she takes out her phone and types a quick message, only understanding when his phone beeps with a message

TINSLEY

i miss you.

He shouldn’t have checked his phone, not when Tinsley was collapsing to the ground with quiet sobs escaping her lips. Her hair had been thrown into a lopsided ponytail and her mascara was starting to smear down her face with every trail of snot and whimper of inner torment. Damian wanted nothing more than to forget their fight, forget his stupidity, and jump down and make her forgive him, make her stop hurting, make her stop caring about him.

It was exceedingly critical for him to help her, comfort her. However, just as he goes to support her something pulls him back, maybe his insecurities, maybe the knowledge he was still in his uniform. Or maybe a sympathetic group of orphans who look at him with too much pity.

With a scowl Damian shakes Dick’s grip off his shoulder, turning towards them with harsh eyes, blinking away the small tears that had managed to form in his irises. A disgruntled cough leaves his throat and he adjusts the black fabric of his mask to cover his bleary eyes, “Tsk. What is it? Don’t you all have neighborhoods to patrol?”

“Bruce - I mean Batman,” Stephanie corrects after a glare from Cassandra, “Told us you refused to patrol any town but this one and

it seemed suspicious so Tim and I looked into it and that building,” She juts out a thumb to the sobbing girl and blue apartment complex, “Is not-so-coincidentally the same place Tinsley lives.”

Huffing Damian crosses his arms, “You’re right, it is a coincidence. Now shouldn’t you be swapping spit with that ugly bastard,” despite the words he isn’t trying to be malicious - he was just genuinely upset with the situation he has found himself in and is lashing out in the only way he knows how. (Okay and maybe he said it a bit to be mean)

“Robin we just want to help,” Barbra tries, dawned in her Batgirl suit, “With everything that’s gone down we don’t think it’s healthy for you to be ‘patrolling’ here. You’ll never be able to move on from Tinsley if you’re constantly seeing her.”

“Oh please he isn’t trying to move on, he’s trying to get her back.” Jason cuts in, rolling his eyes and clicking a finger against his red helmet, “Which is the right thing to do considering she made him less … well ... him”

“Red hood don’t be mean,” Dick scolds, a pitiful smile on his lips as he turns to Damian and engulfs him in a forced hug, “Whatever you need we’re here for you little D.”

“I need you all to leave me alone!”

Tim steps forward and pries Dick off of Damian, mumbling a barely audible, “He doesn’t want a hug, you’re making him uncomfortable” before turning his attention back to Damian, “Okay well anything except that.”

“Robin, what happened between you two anyway?” Cassandra finally asks, easing the question on everyone's mind with a few words, “You seemed so ... I don't know … happy? Though I have to admit I’m slightly relieved you aren’t gushing over your phone during training sessions anymore.”

“Black Bat, you straight up skip training sessions what the fuck are you on about?” Duke’s eyes go wide as Cassandra throws a knife at him, his hand shooting up and catching it with ease, “Okay damn girl.”

Cassandra snatches her knife back and throws a glare at the yellow-suited man, “Watch it Signal.”

“Can we please get back to Robin and his saga of love?”

Damian can’t help it, the tears push heavily against his eyes and finally break free from the trap of his green irises, small uneven blobs of wetness trailing down his face and plopping onto the ground with a deafening noise. It wasn’t that loud, but Damian's fuzzy head and fast-beating heart augment the noise tenfold.

Everyone goes silent, possibly from a shortage of anything to say, or perhaps from seeing such a austere boy collapse down into pitful bewailings in front of them. His legs buckle and the dark haired man fallsl to his knees, arm covering his face in pure agony as every text he ever sent replays in his mind, a broken record forcing him to relive what he’s done.

So much pain he doesn’t notice the same rag tag group of orphans engulfing him in a hug

TAGLIST !!!

@pretendthisusernameisgoodd @dickgraysonhasanicebutt @multiverseofwonders @emmaleilani96 @mcgonagalls-witches @pleasestophoney @kurosstuff @liltleaderofthelameones @water248 @blackrippedskinnybeans @evalynanne

#damian wayne x oc

9 notes · View notes

stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 4 years

Note

Top 10 favorite things about TFS?

Bold of you to assume I can narrow it down to just 10 things, but I’ll try my best.

Here’s a list of things I LOVE about The Final Season of TWDG, starting from #10 and working my way down to #1.

10. Rosie is best girl and doesn’t die

Listen, okay? If you give me a game with a doggo companion that I bond with only to have said doggo die for dramatic effect... you automatically lose 2 outta 5 stars on your rating. Case in point: Season 2.

However, tfs knew not to kill Rosie off for dramatic effect, knew it’d be cheap. Plus, Rosie is a sweetheart and I love that she helps Clementine come to terms with her past trauma with dogs and genuinely bonds with her. Rosie is best girl.

9. Over the shoulder camera/controls

They’re the best of the series, having come a LONG way since S1. Like, look... Don’t get me wrong. S1 isn’t unplayable or anything, far from it, but they’re not the greatest either. They’re pretty wonky at times, the fixed camera can get annoying when you’re moving around, and sometimes button presses don’t register. It’s definitely something I have to get used to whenever I go back and replay the entire series, and like I said, it’s not the worst controls in the world... but oh man, compared to TFS?

Have you ever played S1 and then jumped straight into TFS just to get a direct comparison of the two? Because I have and it’s jarring how much smoother, accurate, and overall better everything is in TFS.

Just... props, guys. Thank you for the over-the-shoulder, movable camera, thank you for the polished button prompts, and thank you for a run button that has Clementine go into a nice jog rather than a comical run or, eh... does nothing [lookin’ at you ANF... Javi slow].

It’s just so effortless to play. The most trouble I ever have is with doors but that’s a given- Doors make no goddamn sense in this series and I’ve given up trying to learn their secrets. Oh, and speaking of more improvements!

The shooting mechanic in this game is leaps better than in S1. Y’all remember the Motor-Inn shootout? The one that was such a frustrating pain in the ass?? So much death and anger...

I still die sometimes when shooting the walkers with the bow, especially the ones that are on fire, but it’s nothing compared to the shooting mechanic in S1, so the biggest THANK YOU for that one. It’s actually enjoyable to shoot stuff this time around.

8. Collectibles

You as Clementine get to pick up various collectibles to decorate her and AJ’s dorm with and it’s great. One of my favorite bits about this game is seeing Clementine wake up in this empty, lifeless room, and see it get brighter and brighter with every collectible you place throughout the game until you reach the final scene with AJ where the room is just FULL of life and personality. Like... it’s officially theirs. It’s such a good feeling!

And the devs totally didn’t have to add the collectible system in, but I’m so thankful they did. I’m one of those people who gets every single collectible every single time I play.

7. Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth

Y’know, I honestly can’t think of a better place for Clementine and AJ to end up than Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth. It’s awesome, I love it, what a great idea. I also love the sense of wonder when we step outside for the first time and see the inside of Ericson, as well as the others, walking around. Like even Clementine is taken back by it.

Because of course it makes sense for Clementine to end up in a school surrounded by people closer to her age rather than with a group of dumbass adults like in the past three games.

Here it feels like they’re all about on the same level. There’s no older person here belittling Clementine because “she’s just a child and doesn’t get it,” they’re just people, y’know? Hell, if anything, Clementine’s now the most experienced one!

The school’s great! I wouldn’t change a thing about TFS taking place here. The environments are beautiful and I love exploring the world.

6. Marlon as an antagonistic character/final confrontation

I have an entire Marlon character discussion/study so I won’t put too much time into this one, but I will say that I love Marlon’s part in tfs. I love him as a surprise antagonistic character, I love how chill he is in the beginning, I love the final confrontation at the end of ep1... I just really like Marlon, y’know?

Ray Chase gives a damn near perfect performance as Marlon, so much so that I wish he survived past ep1 just so that I could hear more of his acting. Marlon himself in an interesting look at a leader character hiding his shame and guilt while trying to maintain control over everyone [including himself] around him, only to be broken down when he’s found out.

5. James

I know people tend to be pretty split on James, but I personally really like his role in tfs. I love that they included a character who was apart of the Whisperers, and hell, if anything I’d like to know MORE about James’ past with them.

I just find him and his whole “walkers are sort of people? kinda?” beliefs. Again, I know some people get annoyed with him because of his beliefs but I think he adds an interesting spin on the whole thing, y’know? Though I do love what a bitch he is if you don’t agree with him hahaha

James is a bitch and I love him, okay? I love his dumb walker mask, I love his dumb boyband hair, I love his whispery voice, and I love his backstory with the Whisperers and Charlie. I love this he’s trying so hard to be this pacifist that he ends up doing the literal thing he said he doesn’t want to do-- hurt people. Y’know... like attempting to kidnap AJ and threatening to break Clementine’s leg in the caves if he’s alive.

Which, by the way, that whole cave scene is a thing. It’s wild and I love it but not for the reasons the devs probably wanted. Like... it’s a little hilarious? I know it’s not supposed to be! But I can’t take James seriously when he’s walkin’ around his hands on his hips all huffy and puffy, okay? It’s just wild.

Anyway, I love James and wouldn’t get rid of him. Hell, I’m still waiting for my James with the Whisperers mini-series, Skybound.

4. Ericson Crew

There isn’t a single character from Ericson that I don’t like, or that I’d get rid of, which is rare with these games. Thinking back to the previous games, there’s always at least one person I could do without or that I didn’t like. I adore all of them!

The Ericson crew just feels closer than previous groups. For starters, they’re way more likable than most in our previous groups. Even when there’s tension [and boy is there tension at points] you still get the sense that they don’t hate each other, unlike in our previous groups. They do in fact love each other as a family and will do what they can to protect one another.

Plus, they’re all interesting. They’re troubled youth and I love all of them!

Aasim keeps a daily journal where he chronicles everything in hopes of learning from past mistakes to prevent future ones, he’s damn good with a bow, and he’s got a neat little soul patch on his chin.

Ruby is the tiny yet fiery medic of the group who adamantly believes in manners yet used to chase teachers around with pitchforks.

Brody is caught up in the twin mess with Marlon but she’s also shown to want an escape, a road trip where she and her friends can go see the beach, but she also suffers with anxiety and panic attacks and isn’t afraid to knock Marlon on his ass or swear at Clementine.

Mitch is a grumpy, tall boy who looks after Willy like a brother, knows how to make bombs out of manure and propane, and used to fight his neighbors because they didn’t like his face.

Omar is a sassy chef who has to have every ingredient just right otherwise he’s salty for a week and he can take a bullet to the leg like a champ.

Willy’s a goober who can climb trees like you wouldn’t believe and he made a bomb of his own in Mitch’s honor that completely wrecked the delta’s ship.

Tenn is a soft, naïve boy who draws and reads but isn’t afraid to stab a walker bitch if he has to.

Violet was sent to the school after witnessing her grandmother’s dead, she used to date Minerva who is now “dead,” has abandonment issues, tries to give off the appearance of a grumpy grump but like once she’s comfortable with you she’ll tell you her life story and do romantic shit like dancing and painting you a pin.

Louis was sent to Ericson because he was a rich brat who broke up his parents marriage because they wouldn’t let him take singing lessons and has felt like garbage ever since, using humor to cope and push people away, and keeps the façade on until someone’s willing to see past it in which he’ll finally bare his soul to you, name a song he wrote after you, and do everything in his power to keep you and everyone else safe over himself.

I just... Love ‘em all.

3. Clementine and AJ’s dynamic

To think that they almost killed AJ off, or kept him a minor character. That would’ve been a shame and an absolute waste because Clementine and AJ’s dynamic is super fucking good in tfs.

It’s actually a little baffling that AJ’s as good as he is, from his writing to his voice acting, he’s just great. And his relationship with Clementine is definitely one of my favorites to come from this game. It’s not perfect, but I don’t want perfect.

I love that AJ looks to Clem for guidance and I love the way our choices affect him, even when it’s a case of the bridge scene. Hate the bridge scene knowing that I gotta sacrifice a character I care about for another I love, but I can’t deny that I love how that choice is made. After everything, do you trust AJ or not?

Plus, their conversations are so well done, their chemistry is through the roof, and I wouldn’t change it.

Oh, and the barn scene? Gets me every time, even though I already know everything’s fine and gonna work out. Still gets me.

2. Clementine is Bisexual

I’ve talked about this in the past, but lemme just say that I love the fact that Clementine is canonically bisexual.

Doesn’t matter if you’re dating Louis, Violet, or no one, Clementine is still bisexual. The game confirms it through it’s text/subtext and Clementine’s actions that we don’t have control over, and the devs confirmed it. She ain’t straight, she ain’t a lesbian, she is bisexual.

I can’t express how happy that makes me. Just... 💗💜💙

And with her being bisexual comes her two great love interests: Louis and Violet. They’re amazing, and such an improvement over the previous game’s attempt at love interests... ahem, y’know... Kate.

1. Louis as a character/his relationship with Clementine

I mean... c’mon. Y’all knew what #1 was gonna be. Do I even need to explain? This entire blog is just me gushing about Louis/clouis.

Look, Louis is my favorite non-playable character across the entire series. Hell, even when you factor in playable characters, he’s STILL my absolute favorite. Like, even outside of his relationship with Clementine, I find him to be such a compelling character by himself.

Like I mentioned above, he came from a stupid rich family who gave him everything he ever wanted, but when his father wouldn’t let him take singing lessons, he literally worked for over a year to break up his parents marriage because “you get to be happy or you get to be rich, can’t be both.”

He gets sent to Ericson where the apocalypse happens, he never gets to make up with his parents, and he ends up using jokes and piano as a coping mechanism to deal with everything, falls into a cycle of being unreliable and the butt of the joke, and lives one day at a time without much thought for the future.

He puts on the happy jokester persona to push people away from knowing the real him and rarely shares much about himself. Hell, when Clementine does hunting and decides to take care of the walker with him, he actually does let down the wall for a minute to share his view on “this moment” before looking away like “Oof, shared too much-- HEY, GO CHECK ON AASIM :D I’LL BE OVER HERE :D FIXING THE TRAP :D and adjusting the wall ahem--”

It’s so interesting because you’d think that he’d be more open about his past with Marlon or the twins or whatever [like Violet is] but no, he doesn’t tell you shit about his past until EPISODE 3 and you have to work to get that story.

I just... I just love him. Could talk about and analyze his character for hours. And I love his relationship with Clementine. It’s just so good. The piano scene where they finally admit their feelings for one another?? That shit has my entire heart. Their entire relationship is my favorite. What else is there to say?

#asks #twdg clementine #twdg aj #twdg louis #twdg violet #twdg aasim #twdg ruby #twdg brody #twdg marlon #twdg mitch #twdg willy #twdg james #twdg tenn #twdg omar #twdg minerva

27 notes · View notes

popculturebuffet · 4 years

Text

House of Mouse: The Stolen Cartoons Review (Patreon Review)

Hello all you happy people! It’s Patreon Review Time. Since my 5 dollar or higherr patreons get 1 review a month, Kevin my 10 dollar patreon is using one of his to celebrate the 20th anniversary of House of Mouse by having me review a random episode a month. And for this month we’re going all the way back to the start with The Stolen Cartoons!

I already introed house of mouse back when I reviewed “The Three Cablleros” episode but for a refresher: House of Mouse is a 2001 cartoon about Mickey and Co running a club. Mickey is host, Minnie plans the show and runs the books, Donald tends to the VIP”s and co owns the club with Mickey, Goofy is head waiter, Daisy runs guest services, Horace is technical support, Clarabelle is a gossip monger with no clear actual job, and Max is Valet. The show was used to repackage shorts from the short lived show Mickey mouseworks, using the club setting as a wraparound and said club was attentend by all the various characters from the disney canon. It’s as awesome as it sounds.

The voice cast, which I didn’t intro thorughly last time, was equally awesome with all the actors for the characters at the time, all legends in the industry. Wayne Allwine as Mickey,who played the character from the late 70′s to his death, Russi Taylor as Minnie and the Triplets, who did the same and was also married to wayne, Tony Anselmo, who should be thorughly familiar to readers of this blog and donald duck fans as his voice since Ducktales, Voice Actress Tress Macneile as Daisy, likewise, Jason Marsden as Max and Voice Acting Legend Jim Cummings as Pete. All except Allweine i’ve profieled before on this blog in various other series, but Wayne, outisde of a very minor role in black cauldron, only voiced Mickey, and to me is the defntiive voice for the guy, though Chris is getting close.

The other notable members of the cast i havent’ covered are April Winchell, who while tremendous, I will save for an episode Clarabelle is actually in more, and Bill Farmer. I have a great amount of Love for Bill and like everyone here, he was a vertran of the industry by the time he showed up in this series. His defining roll far and away is goofy, who was, to my delighted surprise his FIRST voice audition, having studided PInto Colving’s voice well to the point you can barely tell the difference between the two, and having inherited the roll around the same time as Russi and Tony. He’s the voice of Goofy I and most kids from the 80′s onward have grown up with and is the best at the roll by far, having chances for depth and nuance Pinto wasn’t allowed with the Goofy Movies and other works. IN general he’s just THE goofy to me. He’s also the voice of horace and pluto, and currently voices Hop Pop in Amphibia which is super noteworthy as looking at his filmography like a lot of the sensational 6′s va’s he’s only voiced goofy or Pluto for most of his career. But hey like Tony, if you only do one charcter might as well be the fucking best at it. He also has a show on Disney Plus with him and dogs I need to watch yesterday.

So with our cast out of the way, and not much history to go into, join me after the cut and we’ll see how House of Mouse got it’s start and if it was a good one.

Breaking from my usual format for House of Mouse and doing the shorts as they come up int he main story for two reasons: The first is that the shorts are integral to the plot and the second is that there’s way more main story this time around than usual, likely to properly set things up.

So we open at the House of Mouse with Mickey Adressing the club and showing off the general premise of this being a club for all of the various heroes and villains of disney to hang out and what not. He also presents the house rules which are no smoking (Fair and should’ve always been a thing), no villianous schemes and no eating the other guests, all helpfully demonstrated as he says them. We also get to see the others in action: Minnie handling the schedule and the crew, Donald welcoming the guests, and Daisy running the desk and getitng brainwashed by Jafar into giving him a table. Max also is providing his job as Valet which surprised me because I genuinely thought he didn’t join the cast till season 2.. despite the fact he’s right there in the credits.. which are the same for ALL THREE SEASONS.

So things are going well.. so naturally that’s when Pete shows up to try and ruin things. Look he’s having a hard time after the divorce.. several years ago. Okay maybe he’s always just been a dick and that’s why he’s divorced in the first place. Point is he naturally wants to shut the club down, boot them out, and wreck up the place like any natural cartoon villian or real estate scum bag landlord. Pete just happens to be both because he can multitask. .and because it’s basically the same thing you just have to be animated for one of them. Thankfully whoever the previous Landlord was, i’m going with Shere Kahn given the setting, his roll in tailspin and the fact the obvious candidate, scrooge, would make no sense here given a later episode where he guest stars, wrote into the contract that as long as the show goes on, they can stay in business. Pete stews over this and naturally plans to stop the show while Minnie, in a cute bit, comforts a nervous mickey and just tells him to play some cartoons. So...

Pluto Gets the Paper: Wet Cement and Donald’s Dynamite: Magic Act I”m covering both of these at once. But as I said the animated shorts this time are one big sized one and two of the shorter ones to make more room for the story. Which is fair: this is the first episode, and thus needs to set up the premise. The series isn’t story driven but your first episode should still feel like one, ease you into the world and get you situated and THEN can do the normal format. It’s also in the episode’s favor as the heavier story focus meant a BETTER story than most season 1 episodes, on par with the two season 3 episodes i’ve covered so far.

The shorts themselves are fine. So far this is the only Pluto Short i’ve liked as it has a neat enough gaga: Pluto has to get the paper in wet cement. Why did the paperboy throw it in wet cement instead of in the driveway, I dunno but given this short is well.. short and just meant to deliver on some quick gags, I’m not going to question it. It’s the first Pluto short i’ve covered without any dog sexual harassment, i’m not looking a gift dog in the mouth.

The other short short played right after is part of a series where Donald ends up trying to get rid of a round bomb that shows up wherever he is....

It’s pretty damn funny, though being a huge Donald fan i’m obviously biased, but even removing my donald duck brand sunglasses, I will concede this was objectively fun.

But the cartoons stop as, true to the title, they’ve gone missing! Horace is found tied up, the cartoons are gone and Pete is obviously responsible. and hilariously so as the rope has his name on it and he says “I don’t know horace horsecollar” There are a LOT of good gags in this one, i’m leaving a lot out for time’s sake.

So Mickey and Minnie come up with a plan: Mickey sends the.. Quackstreet Boys.... to stall. Now it may shock you but I actually LIKE the backstreet boys. Not to an extreme amount but I did grow up with them, and even now find their music pretty damn good. No my issue is this parody is weak, mostly running entirely on the title pun. The most I can give them credit for is using the outfits from their second album cover. No I wasn’t kidding I did grow up with them. You saw that everywhere so even if I didn’t enjoy their music then and now, i’d know it. But it just feels really weak, like they had no idea what to DO with the boys and instead just slapped them in a lame parody. It dosen’t help i’m not a fan of the classic version of the boys outside of the comics, as I feel later productions should’ve had them actually be distinct, and it took until 2017 to pull that off with the reboot, something I fear may be undone in future productions. Please.. don’t.. you can have Cristina Vee voice them all, I don’t care about the voice I just want to be able to tell them a apart. So yeah I don’t like it but it dosen’t drag the episode down. Just something I wanted to have a moan about.

So they split up: Mickey, Minnie and Goofy go to shoot a cartoon while Donald runs the club. Naturally he rebrands.. but what really is telling is everyone boos him when he tries to mc.. just for not being Mickey. While Donald does have a massive inferiority complex here, desperately wanting to one up mickey.. with moments like this it’s hard not to see why> He’s JUST as big a star, just as talented , maybe not as nice but just as likeable. He even co-owns the club. But ironically only Mickey Himself, and Daisy of Course, treat him like an equal. To everyone else it’s Mickey’s world and he’s just the sidekick. It’s no wonder he spend sthe entire show desperately trying to outdo mickey: he doesn’t hate the guy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.. but he just wants to be loved too. Sure it’s part ego.

Mickey does return though with the new cartoon. And our only sizeable one so.

Hickory Dickory Mickey: This is a REALLY good one with a simple enough premise; Goofy wants Mickey to take him to the airport at 6am tomorrow.. which Mickey balks at.

Seriously i’ve woken up at 3-4am to go to the airport or on road trips. Waking up at 5:30 is pretty standard. Goofy also has good reason to ask as he once BROKE MICKEY OUT OF JAIL. And as seen up top the flashback is done in black and white AND with their old models. I just.. love everything about this and it had to have taken extra effort to make new models for the old models and thus extra money for a quick joke. So kudos best part of the episode. But with his hands tied Mickey is forced to take him and Goofy leaves him his clock which won’t stop ticking. So we get just.. nonstop good gags as Mickey tries to sleep with standouts being his trying to drown it out only to get the tick station, the tock station on the radio and the clock channel on the tv. He also tries to mail it and naturally it comes back thanks to a kangaroo when he ships it to Australia..a nd then get’s progressively batshit as he mails it to HADES (comes back in a puff of smoke) and to the 1920′s (It comes back in black and white with arms and legs). It’s just.. really damn good and I suggest seeking it out. I have liked other shorts better but this was a good one.

Pete still gloats as they’ll need more cartoons.. only for one to fall out of his jacket and Mickey to shake the rest out. We then get a fun chase between the two, SO many good jokes, my favorite being him dressing up as a dalmation only for Cruella to take measurements, before being cornered by the three and the elephant from tarzan who throws him out.. right next to pepper-ann and her mom “Don’t touch the villian dear”. Good crossover.. and another show that like House of Mouse is not on disney plus don’t ask me why.

So our heroes win, we get our usual sponsorship and unusually we see the guests leave, a nice bit I wish they did more. All’s well that ends well.

Final Thoughts: This episode was fantastic. It introduces the cast well, sets up our villian, our basic premise and while only having one major cartoon, uses that as a plot point and it’s a damn good one. A fantastic start to the series and frankly the best place to start if your curious about the show. I’d like to thank Kev for sponsoring this review. If you’d like your own review you can look at comissoin details on my blog or get one guaranteed every month by becoming a 5 dollar patreon. You get one guaranteed review a month, acess to my discord server for my patreons, and to pick a short when I do birthday specials. And contributing to my patreon gets me closer to my stretch goals, even one dollar helps. Next goal not only gets reviews of the super ducktales mini series, but also a darkwing duck episode EVERY MONTH. And with the plug done, i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#house of mouse #mickey mouse #donald duck #peg legged pete #pete pete #minnie mouse #bill farmer #daisy duck #2001 #horrace horsecollar #tarzan #pluto #max goof

14 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 10: Premonitions]

Several weeks and depressive episodes later...I’m BACK! 😃

And guess what: we’re officially approximately halfway done with BYCNL! (There will probably be nineteen chapters total.)

The Queen/BoRhap fandom is feeling extra quiet lately, so if you’re still out there I’d LOVE it if you dropped me a comment/message/etc to let me know! I appreciate you all so much and hope you are finding things that bring you happiness, fulfillment, and peace. 💜

Chapter summary: Roger makes a purchase, Freddie makes a friend, Y/N makes an unsettling discovery, John makes a bewildering request.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, babies (but not your babies...or are they?!).

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @loveandbeloved29 @killer-queen-xo @maggieroseevans @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @joemazzmatazz @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye @namelesslosers @inthegardensofourminds @deacyblues @youngpastafanmug @sleepretreat @hardyshoe @bramblesforbreakfast @sevenseasofcats @tensecondvacation @bookandband @queen-crue @jennyggggrrr @madeinheavxn @whatgoeson-itslate @brianssixpence @simonedk @herewegoagainniall @stardust-killer-queen

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 😊

“Roger, this is too much.” Your sandals click on the marble tile floor, a sandy gold like the beaches of Ostia. You peer up at the winding staircase, the Tudor-style diamond windows, the chandelier dripping with crystals. “This is way, way, way too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much,” he parries merrily. “And look!” He pulls back an armful of sheer white curtains that had obscured the backyard. “The pool has a slide!”

You smile because you have to; he’s so elated, so young. “Roger, baby, unless you’re planning to acquire a literal harem of women we will never have a use for six bedrooms.”

“Sure we will!” He counts on his rugged fingers. “There’s one for us, and one can be the guest bedroom for when my mother or your parents visit, and then there’s one for if Chrissie ever wises up and leaves that wanker Brian and requires a place to stay between husbands, and one for when John needs an escape from that mind-numbing domestic purgatory of his, and one for Freddie’s overflow cats...” Roger trails off. He’s lost track.

“That still leaves one unnecessary bedroom.”

He grins. “One for Roger Junior.”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s a wonderful home for children,” the real estate agent chimes, flitting around rearranging pillows and dusting off tabletops. “Plenty of space to spread out in, lots of bedrooms, fenced-in yard, security gate, spectacular school district...and such a lovely garden to explore! Does your wife garden?” she asks Roger.

“Girlfriend,” he corrects. “And no, she’s thoroughly useless in the agricultural department.”

You laugh and shove him away. “I have other talents.”

“You certainly do.” He growls as he grips your waist, inhales you, bites playfully down your neck and collarbones. The real estate agent raises her eyebrows, but politely averts her gaze and pretends to check if an artificial fern needs watering.

It’s the downturn of August, 1976. The sun is glaring and hot and spills in through the windows, setting the metallic flecks in the marble floor alight. It makes you think of the Yellow Brick Road, of fantasies built piece by piece into truth. John and Veronica bought a house in Putney, Brian and Chrissie a far larger one in Chelsea, Freddie and Mary a posh flat in West Kensington. Roger has his heart set on nothing less than a Surrey mansion. On the rare occasion that Queen has been home since the start of the A Night At The Opera Tour, you and Roger stay in his shabby—dodgy, you remind yourself—old apartment and pack boxes late into the evening, giggling over all the random and ancient relics you stumble across, sticks of Freddie’s eyeliner and dust bunnies tangled in strands of Brian’s spiraled hair, crumpled up spheres of paper with excerpts of songs scrawled on them, fossilized crusts of grilled cheese sandwiches beneath the couch. Queen is preparing for a brief UK tour at the start of September, including a free concert in Hyde Park organized by entrepreneur Richard Branson. Then it’ll be back to the studio to record their next album, a highly anticipated album, an album that will make millions regardless of what’s on it; and what’s on it, in your humble and musically unlearned opinion, is pretty goddamn great.

“Seriously,” Roger prompts, quietly now. “Do you like it?”

“Of course I like it. I love it. I just don’t need it.”

He grins. “I know you don’t need it. But I do.”

“That list of yours is getting awfully long.”

“You have no idea. We haven’t even started on the exotic pet collection yet.”

“There’s a marvelous koi pond out in the backyard,” the real estate agent says. “You could add turtles, and frogs, and all different types of fish. I can recommend sturgeon, they have such an alluring primeval sort of look to them, and the shimmer on shubunkins is just delightful...”

“You heard the lady.” Rog stretches his right hand like he does when his arm bothers him, when the bone that will never fully heal aches like something ancient and irredeemable, like hunger, like unrequited love: fingertips sprayed outwards, then folded into his palm, then outwards again.

“Rog...I don’t know.”

“Come on, baby! It has everything. Roman-style master bath. Bedrooms with mirrors on the ceiling. Space for my own studio. Land. Enormous refrigerators. You’ll have abundant room for John’s drawings.”

“Ohhh, now that’s true.” John is always adding to your collection, slipping you sketches as the boys scurry around getting ready before a show, during songwriting sessions that last long after midnight, when the band and its expanding circle of friends and family gather for birthdays and holidays. You don’t ask him about You’re My Best Friend, or, come to think of it, any of his other songs. You don’t ask him how he feels about his new life as a husband and father. And in return, John doesn’t ask whether you’re ever going to marry Roger, if you even want to, if you worry about what the future holds. It’s a loaded peace, but a comfortable one. A safe one.

“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Roger asks suddenly. “The girlfriend thing. The not-wife thing.”

“No,” you reply, smiling. “Of course not.” Roger isn’t someone who pens love letters, recites all the reasons why he cannot live without you, sings love songs. He rarely speaks of love at all. Roger is as he always is: all action, all energy, eyes forever looking forward. But he does love you; you’re sure he does. Everything he does bleeds with love.

“Good. Because there’s no one I’d rather acquire a harem and zoological park with.”

“Okay,” you relent. “But no lions or tigers or bears. I’m quite attached to your limbs, and you’ve come close enough to ruining them already.”

“Deal.” He taps the Canon that hangs from your shoulder by its strap. “We should document this momentous juncture. One day we can pull out the photo album and show Roger Junior. ‘Hey look kid, this was the day Mum and Dad bought the house you were conceived in.’”

You laugh, almost positive that Roger isn’t serious. “I can guarantee you that precisely zero percent of children would ever want to hear that.” Nevertheless, you ready the camera and hold it as far away as you can, the lens aimed towards you.

“Don’t forget to smile!” Roger trills in his high, victorious voice as he rests his chin in the dip of your collarbone.

You snap the photo. The flash bursts through the kitchen of the Surrey mansion, blinding you both. The artificial bluish light dissipates like smoke.

~~~~~~~~~~

His name is Laszlo, and he’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen...even when he’s not especially well-mannered.

Currently, Laszlo—an Eastern European moniker from somewhere in his mother’s comically vast family tree—is whimpering and squirming against Veronica’s chest as she pats his tiny back and sighs wearily. Veronica, ever the good Polish Catholic wife, is already pregnant again. Chrissie smirks triumphantly and puffs on a cigarette, her rings glimmering on her left hand, her dress violet and new and very expensive. Brian is lost in some deep intellectual conversation with Richard Branson, gesturing with his long nimble hands and nodding empathetically, his dark curls rustling in the breeze like the lithe branches of a willow tree.

“Thank god you’re here,” John calls as you and Roger approach. “Freddie is about to get this concert cancelled.”

“I’m about to make this concert fabulous, darling,” Freddie objects. “We need pyrotechnics, we need sparklers and explosions and fireworks!”

Mr. Branson shakes his head. “Can’t do it, Fred. The embers could travel and set the trees on fire.”

Freddie groans. “Tell him, Roger!”

Roger shrugs, grinning, resting his elbow on John’s shoulder. “I don’t know, maybe we shouldn’t burn down Hyde Park.”

“You’ll be under a huge orange canopy, right over there.” Mr. Branson motions with a sweep of his arm. “You can’t do anything aerial. Flashing lights, sure. Fog, sure. But no fire. No explosions. Oh, and there’s technically a noise ordinance, but we’re working out a deal so the city won’t enforce it on the day of the show.”

“Orange?!” Freddie squeals.

“How will the acoustics be in a tent?” Brian asks, troubled.

John smiles mischievously. “Yes, how dreadful if no one could hear the extraneous guitar solos.”

“I have a gong, Rich,” Roger says. “Everyone will be able to hear my gong, right?”

“Your gong?” Freddie whines. “What about my voice?!”

“I miss stadiums,” Roger grumbles. You exchange a knowing glance with Mary and Chris and Veronica, who is imploring Laszlo to take a bottle. Our boys are difficult, aren’t they?

“The acoustics will be fine,” Mr. Branson snaps. “The tent color will be fine. Everything will be fine. You don’t need any fucking fireworks. Please for the love of god just tell me what kind of sandwiches you want.”

“That’ll be an ordeal as well,” Chrissie quips, and you all laugh; even Laszlo perks up, stops wriggling, glimpses around the open green space with curious greyish eyes like John’s.

Some teenage employee carrying a tangle of cables trots over, sweat dripping down his flushed freckled cheeks. “Mr. Branson? There’s someone from the city here to see you.”

Richard Branson smacks his forehead. “Jesus christ. Okay, I’ll be right there. Hey, Steve, hey, have you seen Dom? Go find Dom and tell her to come over here, okay? Thanks.”

The teenage employee nods and disappears into a sea of bustling people ferrying equipment, fliers, chairs, messages.

“I’m so sorry about this,” Mr. Branson says. “These city bastards are out to crucify me. You’d think they’d be a little more grateful that Queen of all bands is willing to put on a free concert in their backyard, but alas. Hey, Dom, over here!”

He waves to a petite young woman with a glossy shock of black hair and olive Mediterranean skin. She’s wearing all yellow: shorts patterned with daffodils, a tank top the color of butter, a headband like a sunbeam. One of her trim arms is cradling a notebook; the other reaches out so she can shake hands with everyone. The gesture is courteous but somewhat unnatural.

“This,” Mr. Branson begins, “is my personal assistant Dominique. She’s wonderful, she’ll listen to all your pretentious tales of woe and do it with a smile, because she’s a true professional. Better yet, she’s going to ask you the tedious questions I was supposed to so you don’t have to wait for me to finish sparring with the city council. Okay? Okay. Have fun. I’ll be back.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Dom says placidly in a heavy French accent. So that’s why her handshake was off somehow, stilted and weak; the French usually kiss as a greeting. You choke back a snort as you imagine Veronica’s reaction to that. Mr. Branson stalks away muttering about litigious twats.

“Oh, aren’t you just darling!” Freddie circles Dom, admiring her outfit, her hair, her gold hoop earrings. He wafts his cigarette around flamboyantly, completely forgetting to smoke it. “The French are so tasteful, aren’t they? You simply must connect me with your stylist.”

“I would be happy to, Mr. Mercury. But regrettably, I am my own stylist.”

“Ahh!” Freddie exhales, enamored. Mary lifts Laszlo from Veronica’s tired arms and cradles him, tickles his nose, beams down into his fresh and inquisitive face.

Dom pulls a pen from her shirt pocket. “May I ask your sandwich preferences for the day of the show?”

She immediately receives four very different answers, and she raises an eyebrow, her pen hovering over the lined paper of her notebook.

“I’m so sorry about them,” Chrissie says, and Dom chuckles civilly.

“Ham and cheddar,” Freddie tells her, synthesizing the responses. “Bacon, fried fish, steak and onion jam...and something for Brian. Cucumber maybe. Could we get some cucumber sandwiches, dear?”

“You’re a vegetarian?” Dom asks Brian, jotting down notes.

“He’s morally superior to us in every way,” John sighs dreamily, and Rog and Freddie cackle.

“I’m not a strict vegetarian,” Bri clarifies. “But for the sake of the animals and the planet, I try to limit meat when I can.”

Roger adds: “And I order twice as much of it, just to spite him.”

Dominique leads Queen around the portion of Hyde Park where the concert will be held, runs through the itinerary, fields a litany of questions and complaints. And you decide that you like Dom; she’s professional and reserved, yes, but she’s also patient with Freddie, smiles at his jokes, compliments his black-and-yellow striped shirt (“We match, and you remind me of a...oh, what’s the word in English? That bug...it flies around buzzing...buzz buzz...a bee!”), asks him what he’s planning to wear to the show. She assuages Brian, listens to John, takes the time to chat with the women about children, makeup, homes, what it’s like to be in love with rock stars. But Dom mostly ignores Roger, dodges his grins, remains staunchly undazzled. And that would worry you—because Roger loves the chase, you know that firsthand—if he hadn’t already taught you how to trust him, how addictively flawless and exhilarating life with Roger Taylor could be.

When Laszlo begins to fuss in Mary’s grasp, you take your turn holding him; and he blinks up at you with eyes that are wide and clear and seeking, and you find yourself feeling like you always do when you’re around your godson: like maybe you have a stronger opinion about wanting children than you thought you did, like you can’t stop envisioning a baby with Roger’s eyes instead of John’s.

That evening—after leaving Hyde Park, after dinner, after drinks mixed out by the koi pond—as you doze in a sweltering bubble bath and steam curls through the air, you hear Roger’s voice floating from the kitchen downstairs. You rise out of the tub, towel yourself off, slip into a white silk robe as rivulets of bathwater slink down the back of your neck. You tread gingerly towards the kitchen, keep silent so you can hear, lurk in the shadows of the hallway with your palms pressed flat against the wallpaper.

“Hello, is Dominique Beyrand in?” Roger says into the kitchen phone. “I’ve been trying to track her down. Sure, I’ll wait. Thanks.” After a pause, he continues. “Hi, Dom! It’s Roger Taylor, from Queen. The irritating blond one. I was just wondering if you’d happened to stumble across my wallet since this afternoon, I seem to have misplaced it. Oh, you haven’t? Bloody hell. Well, thank you for taking my call. Aw, that’s so kind of you, I’m sure I’ll locate it eventually. I’ve got a terrible habit of losing things. Okay, thanks so much. Goodnight to you too. See you soon. Cheers.” He hangs the phone up as you step into the kitchen. His smile is bright and innocuous. “Hey, baby!”

“Who was that?” Your tone is similarly casual; or so you hope.

“Just Richard Branson’s assistant. That French woman Dominique. I can’t find my wallet and thought I might have left it at Hyde Park, but no dice. Oh well.”

Roger begins rummaging through the drawer full of business cards and address books, tapping his foot, humming to himself. And surely he isn’t trying to avoid my eyes. Your gaze skates over the marble countertop. There, by the refrigerator, just a few feet—a meter, you correct yourself to be properly British—from where Roger stands, is his black leather wallet.

“It’s right there, Rog,” you say, pointing. And now your voice isn’t so nonchalant.

Roger spins to check. “Oh my god, I completely missed it!” He snatches up the wallet with a celebratory chuckle. “I’m such a twit sometimes. You’re too fucking smart, you know that? You’re making me look bad.”

He rushes to you, takes your left hand, bites your knuckles lightly like he did outside Massachusetts General Hospital under dawn skies over two years ago. And then Roger whispers to you, nuzzling your neck scented with lavender soap and doubt.

“Let’s go to bed.”

~~~~~~~~~~

There’s a knock at the door. John is standing on the front porch of the Surrey house with his hands in his pockets and a vague sort of smile on his face. He’s in a black suit.

“Get ready,” he says. “Do your hair, throw on some earrings. Maybe the pearls Roger got you last Christmas. We’re going shopping.”

“Why do I need to look fancy to go shopping?”

John shrugs, feigning indifference; but the puckish glint in his eyes gives him away. Yet there’s something a little sad and weighty in them too, isn’t there?

Your own eyes narrow. “I’m onto you, bassist.”

He laughs as you tug teasingly at a lock of his downy hair. “You always are.”

John takes you to a dress shop on Bond Street where the corsets trickle with gemstones and the designers all have Italian names: Armani, Prada, Abate, Cerruti, Valentino, Biagiotti. He sinks into a leather chair just outside the fitting room and lights a cigarette, takes a long drag, points to you with the lit end.

“Go ahead. Go wild. It’s a blank check.”

“Really?!” You glance around the shop, your pulse racing. “But I don’t know the occasion. I don’t want to be underdressed or overdressed or whatever. Although I don’t think I’ve ever been overdressed in my life.”

“Yes, you can’t seem to shake those pragmatic service industry roots, can you?” Another drag. “You need a dress and matching shoes. Formal, but not too formal. Think a record company party. Elegant but exciting. Lots of sparkle. Slightly slutty, if you’re so inclined.”

“This is an unconventional bonding activity,” you tell John, trying to conceal your nerves.

“Love, this isn’t something you can fail at,” he says, gently now. “You’re going to look amazing no matter what. So just have fun with it. This isn’t a test. This is one of those adventures you’re always searching for.”

I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage; that’s what Roger once told you. But maybe you don’t always want to be quite so free, so unmoored. “Okay. But you have to swear to give honest opinions. I don’t want to show up looking like a wombat because you were too nice to say anything.”

John just chuckles to himself, shakes his head, devours cigarette after cigarette.

With the assistance of one of the shop employees, you climb into a pastel pink dress with a full ruffled skirt, an emerald green dress with an empire waist and loose sheer sleeves, a shimmering metallic silvery dress with a form-fitting silhouette. John nods at all of them, wholeheartedly approves, defers to your judgment. He periodically consults his wristwatch as he taps his cigarettes on the rim of an ashtray, and deflects your questions when you ask him why. Then you step out of the fitting room—balanced on gold heels—in a white dress with a hem that hits just above your knees, a halter neckline, a slim keyhole down the center of your chest; and John’s cigarette tumbles out of his fingers.

“That’s the one,” he breathes, soaking it in. Then he asks the employee to cut off all the tags and whips out his wallet. “Toss your old clothes and shoes in a bag. We gotta catch a cab.”

“We’re going straight to the party?”

“We certainly are.”

“What the hell kind of ridiculously lame party starts at 3 p.m.?”

John smirks craftily. “The kind of party we’re going to. Let’s rock and roll, Florence Nightingale.”

John gives the taxi driver an address and you sail through the streets of London, splashing through shallow evaporating puddles, squinting when sunlight ricochets glaringly off the slick pavement. The taxi rolls to a stop outside of a grand stone building with columns and intricate carvings of leaves and flowers. The sign outside reads: Kensington and Chelsea Register Office.

You turn to John. “Who’s getting married?!”

He just smiles, a deep harbor of secrets.

“It’s Fred and Mary, right? Jesus christ, John, you can’t wear white to someone else’s wedding, Mary’s going to strangle me—”

“It’s not Mary’s wedding.”

Slowly, your jaw falls open. “No,” you whisper in disbelief.

John darts out of the taxi, jogs around to your side, and opens the door for you. You gape up at him senselessly, struggling to remember how to form sentences.

“John...this...this is some bizarre and elaborate joke, right?”

“Nope.” He offers his hand, helps you out of the taxi, leads you up the front steps of the Register Office. Inside, everyone is waiting: Freddie and Mary, Brian and Chrissie, Veronica with babbling baby Laszlo, Roger’s mother and sister...and Roger, of course, in his best black suit and bleached blond hair and trademark guaranteed-to-dazzle (unless of course you’re Dominique Beyrand) grin. He flies to you and takes your hands in his.

“You look incredible, baby.”

“Roger, what’s going on...?”

“Don’t freak out,” he commands, and instantly your panic vanishes. There’s a pink rose pinned to his lapel. “I know we don’t feel like we need to get married. I know we agree it doesn’t mean anything.” Is that still true? “So don’t think that this is about trying to trap you or control you or bullshit white picket fences or anything. And of course you can say no, I won’t be mad, no one will hold that against you, we can find some other reason to party. But the simple facts are that I’m a British national with a mansion and a plethora of perpetual royalties and you’re an American here on a work visa, and the law gets a bit thorny in this situation. And I want to make sure you’re taken care of if something happens to me. That you can carry out my wishes. That you can stay here with the band as long as you want to. So, I’ve got your passport and birth certificate and everything else we need...and some overly-enthusiastic witnesses. Are you cool with signing a piece of paper today?”

“Of course she bloody well is!” Freddie exclaims, and everyone laughs. Mary is carrying a basket full of champagne flutes, Chrissie several bottles of pink champagne, Roger’s sister a tub of ice. Brian has been entrusted to chronicle the event with your Canon. Veronica is more giddy than you’ve ever seen her, even more animated than she was at her own wedding. Well, I suppose she doesn’t have to worry about any illicit pregnancies or condemnatory great aunts this time around.

“Okay,” you tell Roger. And you wish you weren’t beaming so broadly your cheeks ache, because it feels a little pathetic to be this happy about an admittedly meaningless wedding. But it does make you happy, your general aversion towards conventionality be damned.

You sign papers and you toast glasses and you giggle uproariously in the lobby of the Register Office with the best friends you’ve ever had, guzzle pink champagne, pose for photos, take your turn holding Laszlo, kiss Roger beneath the stone arch of the centuries-old building.

It doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, suddenly very aware of the missing weight of a ring on your left hand. It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything.

But you catch a few furtive glances between Chrissie and Bri, the twist of a frown on Freddie’s face when he thinks no one is watching, the distance in John’s shadowy eyes as he inhales champagne like air.

It doesn’t mean anything.

102 notes · View notes

gffa · 5 years

Photo

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW INCREDIBLY GOOD THIS COMIC IS UNTIL YOU REREAD IT FOR LIKE THE THIRD TIME AND ALL AT ONCE AND THINK ABOUT WHERE ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE COMING FROM AND WHAT THE HEART OF THE JEDI’S ISSUES ARE AND OH MY GOD THEN IT HITS LIKE A FREIGHT TRAIN. Okay, maybe that’s just me, but I reread this coming in one sitting again and it just smacked right into me how incredibly spot on this comic is about the main issue and what it’s doing to Anakin. The story is that there’s a war that’s been raging for centuries on a planet that has torn it apart, the Open and the Closed all want each other dead, no one even really knows who started it or why they’re fighting, only that nothing matters more than winning this war just for the sake of winning the war. There’s a Scavenger who is dropping kites in from the sky, pieces of salvaged art and culture, so that it might spark a memory of how they used to be more than this, but ultimately the Scavenger wants to furiously kill all the older members (and maybe even the Jedi sent to help them because he didn’t side with her and kill all the older Closed and Open) and “start over” with the younger ones, who say, wtf, no, whatever else is going on, this is our fight too. These are our people! Interspersed with this is a story about Palpatine strong-arming the Jedi into letting him spend an afternoon with Anakin to thank him for his help with Naboo, to help mentor him while Anakin’s rage is having difficulty getting it under control. Palpatine takes him to the Underworld, where Senators are gambling away and Palpatine spins a story about how they’re corrupt, if we could just make them slip up a little more, we could go after them, because the system is hampering us. Anakin nudges the dice (which is what Palpatine wanted him to do), then the Senator loses his game, Palpatine takes Anakin back and says, oh, if only I could do more. The Jedi can’t just wipe him out, even knowing he’s corrupt, and my hands are tied, too. Oh, if only there was some other path outside of the system. By the way, have you ever considered leaving the Jedi and coming to work for me? Anakin is considering leaving the Jedi, he fully intends to and has made those intentions to Obi-Wan known, who says he’ll respect it, if that’s what Anakin truly wants, but he believes Anakin is better off with them. In the end, Obi-Wan saves the day through calling in the Jedi, by saying there was a source of Tibanna gas on the planet, who cares if that’s actually true, the point was that he wasn’t on his own, that he was working to use and make better the system that he was working with, because they’d have died if they were on their own. Being part of something bigger is what saved them, what allowed them to give this planet any kind of chance at all. THAT IS EXACTLY AT THE HEART OF EVERYTHING THAT’S GOING ON WITH ANAKIN AND THE JEDI. Everything in this issue is designed to be an echo of what Anakin is going through, right down to how he thinks the Open vs the Closed are like the Jedi fighting the Sith, which is what Palpatine will also tell him one day in the future, that they’re both “evil” from a different point of view, that both want power, and it completely sidesteps that the Jedi and the Sith are not mirror images of each other (no matter how much marketing makes it seem that way sometimes), that the Jedi do not want to win a war just for the sake of winning a war, and it’s not about fighting the Sith because they’re Sith, but because they go around murdering people and oppressing entire planets, that you can’t say one side is “just as bad” as the other when one side is going around murdering entire peoples and planets on purpose, you can’t say it about the Rebellion or the Resistance or the Republic, because there are legitimate reasons to fight and real people being fought to protect. But it’s sure going to be a handy excuse for Anakin, who is going to strip context out of everything, when Palpatine is dangling the possibility of saving Padme in front of him, that Anakin doesn’t necessarily want to think that way, but if there’s wiggle room to justify what he really wants (saving Padme), then he’ll jump on it. But at the heart of this moment, the question is: Do you remain as part of the system that is deeply flawed because it’s the only way you can see to make any kind of actual betterment for people? Or do you leave the system all together, doing whatever you want, where you can act more directly against things that are wrong, but you have no weight behind you other than your own? Palpatine is planting the seeds in Anakin for the latter, that going outside of the system seems like an appealing idea for someone who feels he’s not doing enough, that the Jedi won’t just go in and clean up the mess. And Palpatine makes it seem appealing because he’s deliberately side-stepping the consequences that would happen if the Jedi did that, that we see incredibly clearly in books like Master and Apprentice or Queen’s Shadow that these methods would not work. Padme goes around the Senate in TPM and pays for it for years, in her inability to actually get anything real done. Qui-Gon is only able to help the people on Pijal because he’s part of the Republic, if he’d left it, the slaves would have been absolutely fucked and Czerka would have gotten away with it. He understands that, if they just take out one Hutt, in a few months, a new one will take their place and everything will be back to where they started. Obi-Wan’s point is that the only chance they have--deeply flawed and imperfect as it is (he says it directly when Anakin says “this entire world is just gone because that’s the system?”, “I don’t like it either. But, yes. The system is... not perfect.” “Then the system should change.” “Perhaps someday it will, Anakin.” THIS IS IMPORTANT FOR THE RESOLUTION OF THE STORY.)--matches up with exactly what Obi-Wan has always believed, that you work from within the system to change it, to make it better, because that’s the only thing that actually seems to work beyond just a few months at most. And it’s precisely what happens:

The Jedi could go storming onto that planet and separate everyone, but as soon as they’re gone, the fighting will resume. They’re only 10,000 in a galaxy of quadrillions and they have other people who need their help, too. The only way to get anywhere is to be part of the Republic, to have that weight behind them, to be allowed to negotiate in the first place (if you’re not part of the Republic, then whatever treaty you negotiate doesn’t mean anything because no one’s going to honor it, the Republic isn’t going to honor something they never agreed to, never gave anyone the authority to offer on their behalf, NOR SHOULD THEY, otherwise Cad Bane can just go in and make a fucking awful treaty and have that be honored, too), to use the system as best you can to make changes for the better, which ultimately Anakin agrees with, hence deciding to stay with the Jedi. But the seeds have still been planted and they’re definitely going to grow. Anakin’s desire to just go where he wants and do what he wants is going to be constantly at war with his desire to stay with the Jedi (with Obi-Wan) and his understanding that Obi-Wan has a point--as powerful as Anakin is, he’s not an entire system of government, that being part of something else makes him stronger, allows him a reach and an authority he would not have on his own. It’s not until he thinks he’s strong enough to be that entire government (and he’s deep in the grips of the dark side and his own fear at what he’s done to save Padme’s life) that he’s willing to truly step away from the Jedi. It’s not until Palpatine has engineered an entire war to completely overwhelm the Jedi’s attempts to change things (and there’s a very strong recurring theme in canon about how the Jedi keep trying to nudge things towards the better, keep trying to appeal for better decisions, and are consistently turned down--hell, that happens in this comic, when Mace tries to say no to Palpatine, who then strongarms him into being forced to agree) so that they’re too busy putting out tire fires and being in triage mode to actually make enough change anymore, especially when they have so little real authority themselves, as compared to the Senate and the Chancellor, that Anakin will be willing to step away. What Palpatine does here is masterful, he lets Anakin think that doing something illegal and outside the system (ie, a small taste of just doing whatever it is you want to do, when you want someone taken out) will lead to clearing away some of the corruption in the system, instead of addressing the far more complicated questions of how easy that kind of power is to abuse and why it’s actually a really awful idea to go down that road, even if you think you’re doing it with good intentions. The system should change, pretty much every single person is onboard with that. (Except Palpatine and the other corrupt Senators who benefit from it.) That’s not the argument. The argument is about how that should change--radical action or steady work from within and what each of those entails and when you’re stepping over a line that you’ll pay for (which isn’t about yourself, but about the good you were doing, the people you can help, if you’re allowed to help them) and how Palpatine just threw a giant ball of mud into the pond that is Anakin’s understanding of all of this, because he needs those waters muddy to turn Anakin towards him. To take all those good intentions and all that power Anakin has and continue to use it for his own ends, rather than Anakin actually truly helping anyone on a long-term basis. ALL WRAPPED UP IN A COMIC THAT ALSO HAS THE MOST GORGEOUS ARTWORK AND AN EXCITING ACTION STORY AND SERIOUSLY LOOK AT THIS COVER:

I went into this thinking, okay, I’m going to scream about Obi-Wan being amazing and Anakin’s star-struck face any time Obi-Wan does something and yell “I FEEL YOU, ANAKIN” and how Obi-Wan was planning to leave the Jedi Order with Anakin if that’s what he decided and just have fun. Instead, I got a comic that just fucking nailed everything about one of the central conflicts between Anakin and the Jedi in a way that wasn’t really even that apparent until I actually started thinking about it (and have been yelling about it a lot recently, as my understanding of the GFFA evolves) and how there’s legitimate frustration and grievances there, but Palpatine strips out context and twists everything around to get his own desired result and it seems perfectly reasonable until you stop to think about it and how he played Anakin perfectly. That it showcases how there aren’t any easy answers to this, only people trying to do their best within deeply flawed circumstances. THIS COMIC WAS SO FUCKING GOOD.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #jedi order #comics #meta #long post

790 notes · View notes

fullmetalscullyy · 4 years

Text

the way it was - chapter 13

we got some rich love

summary: what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

rated: m | warnings: no archive warning apply

chapter 12 | read on ao3

1914

'cause if we don't find money

then what we got honey is just enough

we got some rich love

Riza wasn’t one to complain, but her shoulders sagged in defeat when she noticed there were Military Police blocking her usual walk to Mia’s school. Normally, she wouldn’t mind, but she’d stepped in a puddle caused by the rain that had been pouring all day and her left shoe and left sock were sodden. She just wanted to collect Mia then hurry home into something warm and dry. Glancing at the police, she noticed how they were getting into rather heated discussions with other citizens, explaining firmly that the roads were closed, and no, it wouldn’t be opening anytime soon. Steering clear, Riza picked up her pace and walked around the blockade, hoping Mia’s school wouldn’t be blocked off as well.

Thankfully, it wasn’t.

Riza rocked back and forth on her heels as she waited for the classes to leave for the day. The raindrops pitter-pattered off her umbrella, making a soothing sound. Parents were milling about and chatting with one another, but Riza preferred her own company. She had Hayate with her anyway, and he was far more preferable than some of the other housewives here. Their pup looked up at Riza as he sat dutifully by her side, his tail wagging happily as his tongue lolled from the side of his mouth. Riza bent to scratch him behind the ears.

“Did you hear?” a woman nearby gossiped rather loudly to her friend. “Apparently it’s a serial killer.”

Riza froze in her spot. She felt anchored in place. What?

Hayate whined, nudging her hand gently with his nose to get her to pet him again.

“He’s tearing up the city and the military is trying to stop him.”

Riza’s heart jumped into her throat because this was real. She’d seen the police closing off roads, arguing harshly with citizens and telling them they couldn’t walk a certain way.

“Apparently he’s targeting State Alchemists,” the friend replied. “Carol called me because she lives in the apartment above where it happened. The Flame Alchemist and the Strong-Arm Alchemist were there dealing with it.”

Roy.

She stood slowly from her crouch like she was in a daze, but her mind, her heart, and her breathing were all going a mile a minute. She needed to move. She needed to act.

Riza had to know if he was okay.

“Mummy! Hayate!” Mia grinned as she sprinted across the concrete towards Riza. She panicked when she spotted her daughter. Mia’s arm was flailing out to the side as she ran through the rain. Her hood was a little too big for her and slid over one of her eyes. In order to counteract her loss of vision, Mia never moved the piece of clothing. She instead opted to tip her head back and to one side, struggling to look out from underneath it to see where she was going. The goofy grin on her face matched her silly behaviour. In any other situation it would be comical, but Riza just wanted to get home.

Getting a grip on her emotions, Riza waved to her daughter. She couldn’t break down in front of Mia in a panic. She needed to be strong for Mia and figure out what was going on first. Hayate stepped forward to greet Mia, his tail moving like crazy as his best friend had finally returned to him.

“Hello, Mia Bear.” Her smile was forced but Mia would be too young to notice. “How was school?” she asked, turning and hurrying home after grasping Mia’s hand tightly. It felt like she was tugging Mia and Hayate along, but Riza’s mind was elsewhere at that moment. Riza was barely paying attention to Mia’s excited ramblings. It was drowned out by her mind screaming at her to get home as soon as possible and find out what the hell was going on.

There was no answer at Roy’s office. No one was there to tell her what was happening. The only thing she had to go on was the radio report informing everyone to stay inside their homes and not leave.

It did nothing to alleviate her worry.

Thankfully, Mia never seemed to notice her mother’s distress.

“Hey, Riza,” Rebecca greeted cheerily over the phone. Her body sagged in relief. She was glad she’d gotten through to someone. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you knew where Roy was?”

“Um, I think he’s out on a field mission right now,” she replied. There was the flicking of paper on the other side of the phone.

“Riza?” a disembodied voice asked Rebecca. It was a male voice, and one Riza didn’t recognise. “Riza Hawkeye?”

She reacted to her maiden name, clutching the receiver tightly. Who was this man? Why did he know her maiden name?

“No, sir,” Rebecca replied. Her voice was muffled and quieter. She was probably covering the mouthpiece and holding it away from her mouth. “Riza Mustang.”

There was silence before Rebecca spoke again.

“Sorry about that,” she chuckled, but it was slightly nervous. “Can you give me five minutes, Riza? Can I call you back?”

If she gripped the phone any tighter, Riza thought it might shatter into a million pieces. “Rebecca? What’s going on?”

There was a beat where nothing was said. Riza held her breath, praying her friend would come through for her.

“It’s nothing.” Her tone was sincere, and Riza told herself to believe Rebecca. “I’ll need to leave the office to find out what’s going on. I’ve just been informed there is a situation in the city right now, but I don’t know what it is. Can you give me five minutes?”

Of course. Rebecca always would help her out if she needed it. She always had.

“Okay,” Riza whispered.

“It will be fine, Riza,” Rebecca reassured her kindly. “Roy’s got a good team behind him, all right?”

Yes, but she wasn’t there.

“Plus, he won’t be beaten so easily. He has to come home to you and Mia,” Rebecca added.

Riza nodded. “I know,” she replied quietly.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Rebecca vowed, her voice determined.

“Mummy!” Mia called from their living room. “Can we play now?”

Walking back through, Riza spotted her with her favourite bear in her hand and one of her dolls in the other.

“I’m waiting on a phone call, Mia,” Riza explained, scooping her daughter up into her arms. Mia had pouted when she was told no but giggled when Riza lifted her. “But I promise we will do it after that, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied sullenly, playing up that she was sad they couldn’t play right now.

“Ah,” Riza admonished lightly, a smile slowly crossing her face. “Don’t laugh, now,” she stated, lifting a finger and slowly moving it closer to Mia’s face so she could boop her nose lightly. The corner of Mia’s lips quirked up for a second then dropped. “Don’t laugh, now,” she repeated, putting on a sillier voice. Mia was fighting the urge to smile now. This continued two more times, then Riza had Mia giggling in her arms.

“You’re the best, Mummy,” Mia announced after Riza set her down.

“How come, Bear?” she asked fondly, placing a hand atop her unruly hair.

“Because you can always make me laugh,” she beamed, looking proudly up at her mother.

Riza crouched and smoothed her hand over Mia’s hair, bringing it to cup her cheek. “I love you, my Mia Bear.”

“Love you too, Mummy.” Arms were wrapped around Riza’s neck tightly, just as the phone rang. Her happiness and joy were quickly replaced by fear and dread. Just what would await her on the other side of that phone?

“There’s a man in East City who is out targeting State Alchemists,” Rebecca informed her through the phone. That familiar fear and panic clawed their way back up Riza’s throat. “He was aiming for the Elric brothers who are under the Colonel’s command, then Mustang intervened. He’s out there trying to control the situation,” Rebecca informed her quietly. “He’s out there with Hughes, the Elric brothers, and Alex Armstrong, the Strong-Arm Alchemist. There’s a troop of Military Police out there with him, along with his team.”

Riza relaxed, but only slightly. His team was good. They’d look out for him. However, until she saw him with her own eyes, she’d never completely relax.

“He’s all right, Riza. They’re fine. I’ll update you if anything changes, but I don’t imagine anything will,” Rebecca reassured her. “I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, swallowing her tears so she could go back through and face her daughter while she waited for Roy to come home.

* * *

Riza almost crumpled on the spot when the front door opened and she saw Roy step through it. Abandoning her daughter during their imaginary bear fight – Mia wanted to pretend they were capturing a bear (her favourite toy bear) so they could tame it and make it her pet – Riza threw herself at her husband, looping her arms around his neck and giving him a tight squeeze.

“Riza?” he asked, bewildered. His hands landed on her hips. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“You’re okay,” she breathed, burying her face into his shoulder.

Roy was silent and still. Then, after a moment, he wrapped his arms around her body, understanding her meaning. “You heard?”

Riza nodded, pulling away to search his eyes. Her hands rose to cup his cheeks, then began to roam over his shoulders and down his arms, just to affirm he was real, and he was okay. “It was all over the radio. They told everyone to stay indoors. I was walking to pick Mia up from school when I saw the Military Police closing off roads.” The grip on her waist tightened. “I overheard women at Mia’s school talking about it. They said you were there. You dealt with it.”

Roy nodded slowly.

“Are you okay?” she asked desperately.

“I’m fine,” he reassured her. “I got a scratch on the arm, but nothing serious.”

Riza’s eyes instantly moved to scan his arms. He was in just his shirt but didn’t notice anything amiss, and she hadn’t felt anything out of the ordinary on her initial, panicked skim over his arms. After a second cursory glance, she spotted a slightly discoloured spot on his shirt, up by his bicep. It looked bulkier than the rest of his arm. She raised a hand to brush her fingers over it and Roy never even flinched.

“See? I’m fine.” His soft smile eased her worry.

Riza hugged him fiercely again. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t have a chance to call. Then again, I didn’t think the radio stations would broadcast that there was a serial killer on the loose in the city,” he added as an afterthought, his tone hinting on anger. In hindsight, it was a stupid thing to do. It would do nothing but instil panic in the citizens.

“It’s okay,” Riza assured him, turning her face up to meet him. A smile made its way onto her face, expressing her relief. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

That night, Riza had some news to share with her husband. However, it was quickly forgotten about in the heat of the moment. Her fear and worry had overridden everything, banishing the thought from her mind. As they lay in bed, she curled into him, her grip tight and unforgiving as she anchored him to her. It terrified her that she could’ve lost him today. It was only as she was drifting off that her tired mind jerked her back awake, reminding her of her news. Glancing up at Roy, she saw he was already asleep. It was always a struggle for him to fall into it, so she was loath to wake him. Instead, Riza had ghosted her fingertips over the bandage on his bicep. He was okay. He was alive, and he was here with her. He wasn’t dead, taken away from her by a serial killer.

He’s alive.

It was a mantra in her head as she drifted off once more, resolving to tell him her news in the morning. She wanted to wait for a better time.

* * *

Riza had been to the doctors herself the day before. She hadn’t started her period again. She thought it might have been from just a few weeks ago, however, the doctor confirmed she was a lot further along than Riza initially thought.

She was expecting baby number two.

Riza was desperate to tell him the next morning, but as usual, their home was a madhouse. Roy was rushing to get ready. His shirt was hanging open – the view very appreciated by Riza, but that wasn’t the point – and he had a piece of toast in his mouth as he fiddled with the belt buckle of his trousers. Riza just watched him, amused, and shook her head. However, her attention was quickly diverted away, because she had to get Mia ready. She was loving school in East City and had even made a few friends. She was practically vibrating with excitement as Riza buttoned up the top of her little polo shirt and fixed her cardigan in place.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Her baby girl had started school this spring. It just seemed like a month or two ago she was crawling around on her knees. When did she get so big?

“Okay, I’m off,” Roy announced, grabbing his briefcase from atop the kitchen table. He kissed Mia, cupping both her cheeks in his hands, making her giggle. “Enjoy school, Mia Bear. Be good and study hard, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy!”

“That’s my girl.” Then, it was Riza’s turn. “I’ll see you tonight,” he smiled, all his love for her pouring out of his eyes.

“Actually,” Riza interrupted, pulling on the lapels of his military jacket and tugging him gently back to face her. “Can we meet up for lunch?”

It was something they did often, and if Riza had to hold in her news any longer, she was sure she’d explode. That was the earliest she’d be able to catch him so she could tell Roy properly, rather than doing it as he was leaving in the morning in a rush. She knew his world would stop, and it would make him even later for work.

“Lunch?” Roy cocked his head, checking his mental schedule to see if anything clashed with her request. “Lunch is good. I can do lunch.” His excitement was contagious.

Riza kissed him in farewell. “I’ll see you at half past twelve?”

“Robertson’s?” he asked, naming her favourite café, and one she had frequented often when Mia was younger.

“Perfect. See you then.”

“I’m thoroughly looking forward to it,” he grinned. He turned to leave them both, giving a small wave. “Bye, ladies!”

“Bye Daddy!” Mia cried happily. “Oh! Mummy! I almost forgot!”

“What, honey?”

“I have a project due tomorrow.” Riza felt her stomach drop. Oh no. What could this possibly be? “We have to write our favourite things and a little bit about us on a piece of paper so we can tell the whole class about it.” Riza felt her body relax in relief. Okay, that was doable. “Can we do it tonight after Daddy comes home?” Her big eyes were wide as they begged her to say yes.

“Of course, Mia,” Riza reassured their daughter. Riza crouched low and placed a hand on top of her head. “I would love that, and I know Daddy would too.”

Mia beamed and clapped her hands. “Yay!”

“You need to get your butt to school too.” Mia nodded and dashed to pick up her rucksack at the front door. “What about your shoes?” Riza asked. Looking down at her feet, Mia rolled her eyes and shrugged her rucksack off, diving for her little school shoes by the door. Riza was frozen on the spot, amazed at how alike Roy she was. He did the same thing, when he forgot something trivial around the house, like boiling water for a coffee, or forgetting to retrieve their post from the box in the mail room. Then, he’d trudge downstairs dutifully to collect it.

Once they’d both walked to Mia’s school, Riza walked home and once in the door, she let the excitement of her big news hit her fully. Placing a hand over her mouth, she let out a happy sob. They were going to be parents again. A hand was placed over her stomach, and Riza grinned through the tears that had begun to fall down her cheeks. There was life growing inside of her. She felt the same joy she’d felt the first time she’d found out she was pregnant, however that was dampened by the fact Roy was leaving in a few hours to go and fight in a war that he may not return home from.

She smirked to herself, letting the laugh bubble out of her chest at the thought of his reaction to this news. These were happier times. He wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t going to do this on her own. She would do it with him by her side. That thrilled her and made her feel so much more relaxed about the whole process already.

* * *

“Sorry I’m late,” Riza rushed as she sat down at the table Roy had already picked out for them. “My schoolwork took a little longer than I thought it would.”

“That’s okay,” Roy smiled warmly at her.

“Our darling daughter told me right after you left that she had a project due tomorrow, so I wanted to complete all my tasks before picking her up from school.”

Roy’s face fell. “Oh no. What kind of project?”

“Just a little profile for them. It’s going on the wall of the classroom, and Mia will present it to the class as a short talk, just telling everyone about herself.”

Roy relaxed. “That sounds easy enough.”

“She wants to do it with both of us tonight after dinner.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Roy grinned.

Riza heaved a sigh, finally settled, comfortable, and warming up after being out in the cool spring air. The temperature had yet to pick up considerably, but it was close. There was no longer a light dew on the grass in their front garden in the morning. Riza was just glad it was no longer frosty. She wasn’t used to the frost. East City was warmer because it was nearer the desert, so she’d never fully experienced frost like it before. Her childhood home in the forests out East was also warmer and more humid, so the most she got was dew on the grass. Maybe that was why she was always cold nowadays.

“Better?” Roy asked with a knowing smile.

“Better,” she confirmed.

“I ordered you a tea instead,” he stated, picking up the menu. “I noticed you took one this morning, so I figured that must be what you were in the mood for today.”

No, she’d taken a tea because she couldn’t have coffee now that she was pregnant. It had left her with terrible heartburn the first time around. Excitement coiled like a spring in her stomach when she remembered she still had to tell him her news.

“Did you order anything to eat yet?”

Roy shook his head. “I wanted to wait for you.”

Riza nodded, unable to stop her own smile from forming as she perused the menu. She knew she would always choose the soup but liked to see if anything else might take her fancy that day.

“The usual?” Roy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Riza sighed and nodded. Soup sounded wonderful right now. Her hands were still cold underneath her gloves, so she wasn’t quite ready to pull them off yet. Soup would do just the trick to heat her up.

“Yes. The usual.”

Roy’s menu snapped closed with a grin, and he stood from his chair. “I’ll go and order it.”

While Riza waited her excitement refused to settle down. She was restlessly wringing her hands together when Roy returned, lost in a daydream.

“What’s up with you?” he asked, amused.

“What do you mean?” Riza asked, her attention snapping back to reality.

“You’re very jumpy this afternoon. Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine, I just… I have some news.”

“Okay, go for it,” Roy encouraged, pocketing the bill for their lunch and turning his full attention to her.

“I didn’t want to do it here, but I just couldn’t wait any longer.” All morning she’d switched between telling him at lunch and telling him when he got home. Riza eventually settled on the former because she couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Hey guys!” a loud voice greeted just as Riza opened her mouth. Maes Hughes was approaching them hurriedly with a grin. He even waved. Riza’s stomach dropped. Not now, Maes!

Roy groaned quietly beside her, but she knew it was good-natured. “Hello, Hughes.”

“How are you both this fine day?” he grinned.

“Fine,” Riza replied.

Roy shot her an apologetic look. “We’re good.”

“Excellent! I’m particularly chipper today and do you want to know why?”

“Something tells me you’re going to tell us anyway,” Roy replied, making Hughes laugh. The latter slapped his friend amicably on the back, and Riza noticed Roy winced. It was thoroughly amusing to watch the pair of them interact. There was a lot of respect for each other in their relationship, and Riza knew Roy loved Maes like a brother.

“My darling daughter has drawn me the most beautiful picture this morning! She’s a true artist,” he sniffed proudly. Riza was sure he was going to wipe away a tear at some point.

“That’s great, Hughes,” Roy replied, sounding less than enthused.

Riza nudged his leg underneath the table, shooting Roy a look to tell him to stop being a grump.

“It is great, Roy. Thank you! Oh, Riza, I haven’t seen you in a while. Let me show you all our photos from her third birthday party.”

Roy groaned louder this time and sat back in his chair, closing his eyes. Riza snickered, knowing he’d seen these about ten times already.

Although Riza hadn’t been able to share her news, and was slightly frustrated she needed to wait another couple of hours, it was a lovely lunch nonetheless. It was a joy to speak to Maes again. He was in town for this Scar case they were both working on, and Riza had to admit, she’d missed him. It had been too long since their last meeting.

Maybe it would be better if she just told Roy about the pregnancy at home. It wasn’t something she wanted to share in front of Maes. Not until Roy knew.

“Maes?” Riza managed to ask in between his constant gushing about his family.

“Yes, Riza, my dear?”

Amused at the added pet name, Riza smiled. He was obviously in a very good mood. “How would you like to come around for dinner one night?” Roy raised a questioning eyebrow at her, but Riza ignored it. “I feel like we haven’t properly sat down and talked in a long time.”

He cocked his head to the side in thought. “No, I suppose we haven’t. That was way back when Gracia and I lived in East City. Okay! Sounds great!”

“Bring Elicia and Gracia too, obviously,” Riza added.

“What about those Elric boys? Why don’t you invite them over too, Roy?” Hughes asked. “We’ve had them over for dinner a couple of times. I’m sure they would appreciate it.”

“Well, one will,” Roy muttered.

“That sounds like a great idea, Maes.”

His grin was wide. “Brilliant! This will be a lovely little dinner party.” He even clapped happily. “I will let Gracia know right away, and I’ll contact the boys. They’re heading to Liore right now, so I will see if they can manage it when they get back. Typical,” he rolled his eyes. “They only left yesterday.”

“Thank you, Maes.” At least that would give her a few weeks to prepare.

“Okay, I should get going,” Maes announced, checking the watch on his wrist. “I have a large stack of paperwork sitting on my desk, calling my name,” he groaned. “Half of it is because of all the havoc you cause,” he added, shooting Roy a pointed look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roy replied haughtily.

“I know you do. Anyway, it was lovely to see you again Riza. I look forward to dinner next week,” he grinned. He gave her a little wave as he left. “See you soon!”

Roy stood too. Riza opened her mouth to tell him, the reveal on the tip of her tongue, but Roy beat her to it. “I should probably get going as well,” he sighed. “Unfortunately, I have a mountain of paperwork too,” he revealed grimly.

Roy rounded the table, kissing her cheek. He crouched down to her level, eyeing her carefully. “Sorry for the rushed exit.”

“It’s okay,” Riza reassured him. “Go and save the world, Roy Mustang.” She patted his head affectionately, and Roy grinned. He lifted himself up to her level, kissing her lips.

“I’ll see you tonight.” With one last kiss and a longing gaze complete with his puppy dog eyes, Riza watched him leave with a little laugh.

Her smile fell when Roy was out of sigh. Now she had even longer to wait. The excitement, however, returned with a vengeance, and made her lips curl upwards again.

* * *

“You moan, but I think we should take this opportunity while we can. It would be nice to meet those young men. Plus, we – well, I – never really see the Hughes’, and we should make the most of having dinner with them. They won’t be around forever.”

“That man will outlive all of us, mark my words,” Roy stated, pointing his fork at her over the dinner table. “He’s far too stubborn, cheery, and good to die before any of us. Well, except you of course, my dear,” he grinned.

“Are you calling me stubborn?” Riza deadpanned, but inside she was laughing.

“Of course,” Roy retorted, and Riza snorted, shaking her head. Roy could be so dramatic sometimes and then ended up being kind of sweet in a weird, roundabout, way. “I knew you as a kid, remember? You were a nightmare.”

“So were you, city boy.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

“You two knew each other when you were little?” Mia asked, looking between her mother and father.

Roy nodded. “I visited Mummy and learned alchemy from Granddad.”

“That’s so cool!” Mia exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve known each other for ages.”

Child logic dictated they were both ancient in age compared to Mia, so her comment made Riza laugh.

“Yes, we have, Mia.”

“Do you think I’ll meet someone nice like that when I’m a bit older?”

Riza smiled, shooting a glance at Roy. “If you can put up with them for that long, and still like them, then I hope so, honey.”

Mia beamed and went back to eating her food, satisfied with Riza’s answer.

“What was it you wanted to tell me at lunch, by the way?” Roy asked, filling his mouth with food. Her stomach fluttered in response, excitement carving its way through her body anew. “Before Hughes rudely interrupted us.”

Riza paused, then set down her fork. Her hands were shaking as she placed them on her lap, but it was with excitement. “I went to the doctors a few days ago.”

“What for?” he asked. Riza said nothing, just let her excitement show, unable to hold it any longer. “Are – Are you –” he stuttered, unable to even get the word out.

Riza nodded in confirmation, letting tears form in her eyes. It felt like she’d waited years for this moment. Roy jumped up from his chair and circled the table. Mia jumped in fright and watched her father carefully, almost looking scared. He knelt by Riza’s chair, grabbing her hands and gripping them tightly in his. Wonder filled his eyes as he gazed up at her.

“Are you pregnant?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously.

He surged upwards and hugged Riza tightly. Her tears were already falling, but she laughed as he almost knocked her off her chair with the force of it.

“Oh my god,” he whispered in her ear.

“Mummy?” Mia asked in a very small voice. Both parents glanced up at their daughter. She looked scared, unsure about what was going on and why her parents were crying. Mia looked like she was going to cry herself at the sight of them. “What’s going on?”

“Mia,” Riza stated, standing from her chair. Roy let her go, and she approached their daughter, placing a hand on her head in comfort. Riza’s hand slid down to her cheek and cupped them both with a smile. “You’re going to be a big sister.”

Mia’s face contorted in confusion. Her head cocked to the side, pushing against Riza’s hands. Riza moved them to her shoulders as Roy placed a hand on Riza’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“A big sister?” Mia asked.

Riza nodded. “Yes. I’m going to have another baby.”

It took a minute, but Mia’s face lit up. A large smile spread across her face and then her mouth opened wide as she gasped excitedly. She bounced in her chair. “A baby?!”

Roy chuckled as Riza nodded in reply. “Yes, honey.”

“Oh, wow!” she exclaimed in wonder. “Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked desperately.

“We don’t know yet,” Riza smiled. “It’s too early to know. When we find out, we’ll let you know.”

“Yay!”

Mia threw her arms around Riza’s neck, clutching at her collar tightly. “Thank you, Mummy.”

“What for, honey?”

“I’ve always wanted a little brother or sister,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving me one. I love you.”

Riza hugged her against her body tightly. “I love you too, Mia.” Roy ruffled Mia’s hair fondly.

They had quickly finished dinner then celebrated their news. Roy had run out to the nearest supermarket and bought a cake for them both, much to Riza’s amusement. Then, Riza remembered at the last minute about Mia’s project for school, so they spent an hour working on that. They laughed and played along with her, going over everything about Mia that she wanted to include in her project. It tired her out, eventually, because she fell asleep on the couch and Roy carried her through to her bedroom. It was an incredibly adorable sight, and one Riza would never tire of.

Once in bed that night Roy pulled Riza tightly against his chest. His hand came to rest upon her stomach, making her smile.

“How did you manage to keep that a secret for so long?” he asked.

“It was a struggle,” Riza smiled to herself. “But I managed.”

“You’re a much stronger person than me. I would never have been able to hold it in.”

Riza chuckled. “I thought I was going to burst at lunch.”

“Oh my god,” Roy groaned. She felt his forehead touch the back of her head as it bowed. “And Hughes picked the perfect time to show up, as per usual.”

“It was all right,” Riza stated. “I like Maes. I’m glad we found the time to invite them around.”

Roy kissed her bare shoulder. “Me too. It will be nice to socialise again,” he chuckled.

“Work has kept you busy, huh?” Riza patted the hand over her stomach in sympathy before entwining their fingers together.

“It has. I won’t lie, things have definitely picked up recently after the Scar case. And if I get transferred to Central then it will only get worse.”

“Is it still the right direction, though?”

Roy nodded. “Yes. And now we’re going to have this baby…” His thumb stroked over her skin and she twitched, tickled by his ministrations. “Things are going to change, but for the better, I think. I hope.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, whatever happens.”

“With you by my side, I’ll never be steered wrong.” He kissed her temple.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai au #emma writes #the way it was

15 notes · View notes