#mels knows death can’t touch her the way it can them. so she won’t let it dance with anyone but her.

[quietwingsinthesky]

little amelia pond with her missing tooth and mels with at least one band-aid always stuck on her somewhere and rory following them both around with his first aid kit, the one the doctor gave him after seeing the child one that he had before that was more toy than anything

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Little Bones 1

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series); harassment, general creepiness

This is dark! (biker) Thor x chubby!reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: You’re a city girl stuck in a small town, but Birch isn’t as sleepy as it seems.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown and When the Weight Comes Down

Note: So, I’ve made some positive changes in my life. I am working away at original work, I’m drinking more water, I’m taking my dog on big walks and being more active, and I’m doing my best. So, I was struck with an old yearning to return to Birch. I’ll be updating here and there as I feel and won’t be pushing myself like I did before because I realise how unhealthy and stressful it was on me.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 1: It gets so sticky down here

A city girl in a small town. What could be sadder than that?

In the city, life went fast. In a place like Birch, the days dragged by as if to remind you of how helpless you were beneath the unyielding and inevitable tick of the clock. The hand wound around and around as you waited for what would never happen. The dreams of your childhood eroded beneath the rolling years leaving trail of crumbs you could not follow back to the beginning.

A woman just beyond her prime trapped in an antiquated career. The empty aisles between the shelves full of books bespoke of a bygone era. The forgotten library at the far end of the main street rarely saw a new face and those familiar were fewer by the day. The staff had thinned to three of you; Melissa was older than you with a daughter nearly your age and Colin was close to retirement if not well past.

You got on well enough, as well as you could given Colin’s faulty hearing aid, and Melissa’s wandering mind. They meant well but they shared the lethargy of the old small town. 

You weren’t nostalgic for the smog or the flashing lights of the city, but there was no life to this place. Only the impending reach of death rattling closer in the roar of the motorcycles and the rumble of the old railroad that ran through the middle of town.

The air nipped at your cheeks as you approached the library. A morning of yawning had you craving a latte from the bakery and the quiet girl behind the counter cheerfully steamed the foam before handing it over. Everyone in this town was familiar, everyone knew everyone else, and yet, you still felt like an outsider.

You felt the heat of the cup through your glove and you looked up as you sensed two figures by one of the thick columns of the library façade. Melissa stood chatting with her daughter, hugging her sweater around her as she’d left her coat inside. You peeked up at the grey sky as snow threatened at any moment with the mid-November bite.

As you thought to pass them and leave their conversation uninterrupted, your name drew you back.

“I was just telling my daughter,” Mel began as she waved you over with a chatter of her teeth. “About that podcast you mentioned. She loves those old Hollywood stars.”

“Oh,” you blew the steam away from the lid of your drink as you neared, “It’s alright. The stories are worth the narrator’s schtick.”

“Yeah? I’ve been closing at the bar and I like to listen to something once it clears out.” Mel’s daughter said. “You wouldn’t mind giving me the name?”

You told her the title of the podcast and helped her find it on Spotify to follow for later. Mel shivered and stood closer to her daughter who was bundled up against the onslaught of Birch’s blustering winter. You knew about her too. 

She was friendly but you saw in her a cynicism more common to city folk. You got along but you were weary of her associations. The local club of crass bikers were neither subtle nor savoury. In the city, it was easy enough to ignore the patch and all that came along with it. The seedy figures were distilled by the broader population but not in Birch. There, the club was the town.

“Mom, you can’t stay out here.” She poked her mother’s arm. “It’s too cold.”

“Little better in the library.” You grumbled and sipped your latte. “The radiator’s broken again.”

“You mean Colin broke it trying to fix what wasn’t broken,” Melissa shook her head, “and I’m fine, dear. I’ve spent more than fifty winters in Birch and been through worse than this.”

“Yes, but you were younger then--” Her voice dwindled as she turned her head to listen to the distant roar of exhaust.

You followed her gaze and noted the way her forehead creased at the noise. She swallowed and turned to watch as a dark rider turned onto the main road from the highway. It was the man who kept her entwined with the club, the one who marked her latent authority over all others. The only one who outranked her.

She swore and looked over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother touched her arm. It was a telling and surprising moment. Her expression read of all the disgust you felt for the bikers.

At least a dozen bikes followed the first and Bucky raised his glove hand to signal the others to slow as he pulled up to the curb just before the library steps. You backed away as his breath clouded around him and he waved Mel’s daughter closer. He craned to kiss her as she bent, her fingers picking at her jeans as she did, then he nodded his greeting to Mel.

“What are you doing?” He asked tersely.

“Can’t I see my mother?” The daughter challenged and the biker scoffed.

“Of course,” he killed his engine and the others mimicked him in fine order. “I wouldn’t keep ya from her but you didn’t tell me you were going downtown.”

“You were gone.”

You listened to the conversation as you stayed close to the column, thinking of sneaking up the steps into the library before you heard too much. Your curiosity had you searching the crowd of leather jackets as their wearers tried to conceal their impatience with their boss’ impromptu halt.

Among them, a large man sat casually in his seat, his feet planted on the cold pavement as he rolled slightly back and forth. Strands of his thick blond hair were drawn back beneath his helmet into a thick braid as the rest hung around his shoulders. His patch was different from the rest, an old Norse symbol you didn’t know the meaning of. There were several others who wore the same cut, including a dark-haired woman who chatted with another golden-haired rider.

You tasted your latte again, it cooled quickly as the cold air battered the cardboard. As you sipped and sidled around the column, your eyes were caught by another pair. The very man you’d just been watching was now focused on you. You stopped, hoping like some frightened animal that your stillness would ward off his attention.

“Barnes,” the broad blonde man spoke as he finally looked away. “You’ve not even introduced me to your woman. I assume that’s why we’ve stopped.”

Bucky shifted on his bike and sighed. You hadn’t expected the man to have an accent. His voice was deep but the subtle lilt defined his tone as unforgettable. The dark-haired biker of Birch rolled his eyes before he pointed to his girl and gave her name, then to Melissa as he explained their relation.

You sidestepped around the column to the stairs of the library and turned away. You were stopped again by the same voice.

“And that one? The quiet one?”

You spun back slowly and looked at each biker, many unconcerned with conversation, as a few stared back at you or at the viking-like rider. Bucky shook his head and furrowed his brow at Melissa’s daughter. She hesitated before she gave your name coolly referred to you as just another librarian. She was trying to deflect the focus and you were thankful for it. You wondered at her own blatant spite for that breed of man.

“No one important,” Bucky grabbed his keys. “Come on, honey. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I can walk.”

“Get on.” He said gruffly and turned the keys.

The motorcycles thrummed back to life in a cacophony. You flinched and turned back to the library doors. Your lunch was almost over as it was and the cold was starting to make your head hurt. You heard the bikes tear off as you reached the door and you turned back to watch as Melissa ran up after you.

You held the door for her and paused as you watched riders tear away. The blonde remained and watched you with a smirk. He winked as he slowly rolled after the others and pushed off. You followed Melissa inside and pulled the door shut tightly behind you.

“I’ll finish the returns,” you slipped past her, “you should try to warm up.”

“Thanks, dear,” she rubbed her hands together as she neared the curve desk you all shared, “God, that man makes my skin crawl.”

“But your daughter--”

“She handles him as well as she can,” Melissa sat and logged onto her boxy PC, “she’s stronger than me, that’s for sure.”

You sat and chewed on the thought. You just assumed her daughter leaped at the opportunity to date the most powerful man in town. What else could a girl from Birch hope for?

“She doesn’t…”

“He keeps her safe, I guess,” Melissa muttered, “I don’t say nothing against it. I won’t, for her sake as much as mine.”

You lowered your lashes and turned to the stack of unscanned books. You took the first and opened the cover.

“I didn’t mean to-- I don’t really know anything about the… bikers.”

“Hope you never do, dear,” she said listlessly. “Those men, if you can call them that, are the lowest form of humanity.”

💀

You always took the same route home. It wasn’t very far. You lived in the studio apartment above Tammy’s, the clothes shop where all the local seniors got their outdated outfits. The store itself smelled like a retirement home but you were not often disturbed by the activity below. Like everything in Birch, it wasn’t very exciting.

Your walk took you past the diner and along the stretch across the street from the town’s sentinel, The Asp. The bar was the only place in town which always seemed to be bursting with life. You had an old Chevrolet parked behind the building but you never drove to work, only on your odd trip to the city to get away from the suffocation malaise of main street.

That day as you fumbled to get your earbud back in, you heard a whistle. You got a few comments now and again about your habit of blocking out the townsfolk and the town itself with your music. In the city, you didn’t just say hi to every person you walked by and you had little inclination to change that habit.

You kept going and the whistle came louder. You heard boots hammer across the street and you stopped as the earbud once more fell out of your ear.

“Eh, kitten,” you turned to the long-haired biker. A golden hammer hung from a chain and peaked out from the open collar of his jacket. He tucked his hands in his pockets as you faced him with blatant irritation. “We didn’t get to meet properly, did we?”

You stared at him and let out a foggy breath. You leaned on your left heel and shook your head with a scoff.

“No.” You said and turned back along your path.

“No?” He repeated and his footsteps followed closely. “I’m only being friendly, kitten. I’m not from around here and I’m just tryn’ ta make a few friends.”

“I’m not interested,” you march onward and stop short. 

You realised if you went any further, you’d lead him straight to your door. You didn’t need him knowing where you lived. You veered off and crossed the street, he stayed close just like your shadow. You’d stop by the liquor store and wait him out there.

“Where are you going, kitten?”

“Can’t you take a hint?” You nearly tangled your own legs as you pivoted sharply. “I’m sorry for your luck that you’ve ended up in Birch but I don’t know you and I don’t want to know you.” You grasped the handle of the liquor store door. “Oh, and my name isn’t kitten.”

“I know your name. I remember it.” He grinned and you swung open the door. He caught it behind you and you let out a frustrated sigh as he trailed you inside. “It’s almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Do those work on the women where you’re from?”

You stared at the shelf of fruit wines and tried to ignore him. You were starting to build a real thirst for the bottles.

“I don’t meet a lot of women like you, kitten.”

“Would you stop it--” You blinked and stomped further down the aisle.

“Thor. My name’s Thor.” He offered gallantly. “But you can call me whatever you wish.”

“I could think of a few things.” You bent down to read the label of a wine from the Maritimes.

“Mmm, my thoughts run wild, kitten.” He purred and you looked up at him in confusion.

You swiped the bottle from the shelf and stood straight. His eyes clung to your ass and as you turned, they swiftly found your chest. Neither were well-hidden by your jacket, even as thick as it was. Your weight often deterred the whistles and the leers, but not this time.

“How many ways can I tell you to go away?” You hissed and move to step around him. He turned and watched you pass. He shivered as you brushed against him unwillingly in the narrow aisle.

“So, you got a man?” He questioned as again he tailed you to the counter. You grabbed a small bottle of Vodka from the rack beside it and dug out your wallet.

“Does it matter?”

He bent and leaned on the counter beside you and you ignored his attempt to look you in the face. You paid and took your change as the clerk bagged your purchase.

“To me, everything about you matters, kitten.”

You shot him a sharp look and took your paper bag. You hugged it close and glared at him as he straightened. “Stop calling me that.”

“Here,” he gripped the top of the bag, “I’ll help.”

“I’ll smash this bottle over your head,” you threatened. “Now I’ve told you to leave me alone.”

He chuckled and dipped his head. His hair slid down the leather and he scratched his thick beard.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I like to play.” 

He looked at you again, his blue eyes twinkling. You were startled as suddenly he ‘woofed’’ at you. You backed away and he kept close as is to chase you, ready to salivate like the dog he mimicked.

“Get away!” You shouted and raced for the door.

His barks turned to laughter and the bell announced your stagger out onto the street. You didn’t look back as you charged across the street and narrowly missed being mowed down by Linda Karling. You reached the other side as you heard the liquor store door clatter a second time. You sensed his shadow as you turned down a side street.

You walked until you were certain he wasn’t following. The cold blew up your jacket as you mapped out your way back. You could sneak around the back of the clothes shop and sneak up the metal escape. You peered back and forth, the old house just at the town limits nearly faded into the dimming sky and main street shrouded by brick walls.

“Hey,” a small voice surprised you as a woman neared, walking the same route as you. “Whatcha doing all the way up here?”

You stared at her dumbly. It was the woman who worked at the bakery. She hung out with the club too.

“Nothing, I…” You grabbed your earbuds and put them back in your ears. “I was listening to my music and got carried away.”

“Oh?” she chittered like a mouse. “No one comes this way. Only me to see my ma.”

You nodded at her and gave an awkward smile. “Mmhmm. Well, thanks. I probably would’ve wandered right out of town.”

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she said forlornly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“For your latte. And you always get the banana loaf when it’s on special and tomorrow’s Tuesday.”

You sniffed and rubbed your neck. You hated that. You hated that everyone knew you, that everyone knew what you did, and that they assumed they knew everything else. But she was sweet and you couldn’t hate her for never being freed from the prison of Birch.

“Oh yeah,” you squeezed the paper bag so it crinkled and pulled out your phone with your free hand, “tomorrow.”

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

The Best Man

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, a few curse words

Word Count: 2,560

Author’s Note: A fun part about getting older is that all of my friends are married or engaged now, and sometimes weddings bring up some insecurities. A more than a bit of venting going on here. This is my first time writing for the love of my life Marcus Pike and I’m very nervous/excited. 

Summary: When your best friend asks you to be the maid of honor at her wedding, you’re convinced that you’ll never find your own happy ending- until you meet a certain groomsman. 

Taglist Form - Masterlist

You weren’t proud of the feelings of dread that washed over you as you sat in the parking lot of the wedding venue. You’d been sitting in your car for just a little longer than socially acceptable, given that the rest of the bridal party had likely already gathered inside. You just needed to make it through the next two days, and then you could go back to your apartment, wrap yourself in a blanket, and wallow in your feelings. 

You thought you’d be better at ignoring the green-eyed monster that was currently threatening to ruin what was supposed to be a happy occasion. 

You’d dutifully sat through dress fittings, gave thoughtful opinions on flower arrangements and centerpieces and invitations, and meticulously planned the bridal shower and bachelorette party. It was your job as the maid of honor to make sure that everything went off without a hitch on your best friend’s special day. 

You were happy for her- so happy for her. You’d never seen her like this, and you knew that she and Greg were going to have the perfect lives together. A fairytale wedding, a beautiful home, a loving family with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever in the backyard. A cliche to be sure, but you couldn’t deny the pang of jealousy that Melissa had found her perfect match while you were still decidedly and hopelessly single. You buried those feelings down deep, enduring it all with a smile. 

It would happen for you eventually. 

Probably. 

Well, you could hope, right?

When you finally made your way inside, Melissa had already worked herself into a panic. The best man, Marcus, was nowhere to be found.

Mellissa had told you a little about Greg’s best man. You knew that he worked for the FBI, that he and Greg had been in a band together in his younger days, and that he was flying in from Washington D.C. for the wedding. His flight was supposed to arrive an hour ago, and then he would take a cab from the airport to the venue. 

Clearly, that plan had derailed at some point. 

“Greg, we only have the rehearsal space for another twenty minutes-” Melissa reminded him impatiently. 

“He’ll be here, Mel. I swear, the one time he’s late for anything…” Greg sighed, shaking his head. He pulled his phone from his pocket, presumably dialing the best man’s number again before holding the phone to his ear. The silence seemed to drag on forever as Mellissa glared daggers at her husband-to-be. “Damn it, Marcus, turn your phone on...” 

You tried to deescalate the situation, placing a calming hand on Melissa’s shoulder and quietly reminding her to breathe. With patience wearing thin all around, the last thing you needed was for Bridezilla to make an appearance today. 

“Why don’t we just run through the ceremony without him, and he can follow my lead tomorrow. All he really has to do is stand there and hand you the rings, right? Does that sound okay?” You looked back and forth between the couple hopefully, and they nodded in agreement.

“Good. Happy thoughts, you two. It’s going to be the most magical day of your lives, I promise.” 

You’d woken the next morning with a tension headache from hell, and it had stuck with you all morning. As calm as you’d made yourself out to be earlier, the case of the missing groomsman was still bothering you. 

As you and the other bridesmaids got into your places for the ceremony, you ran through your mental checklist. As long as Greg’s friend was standing up there at the altar when those doors opened, you had everything under control. You’d even managed to wrangle the flower girl, Greg’s rambunctious niece, into a somewhat poised state, promising her an extra piece of cake later if she would just keep it together during the ceremony and pictures.

On the other side of the doors, you heard the music start, and one by one, the bridesmaids shuffled through the doors. When it was finally your turn, you took a deep breath, smoothing your hair to the best of your ability with your bouquet-free hand and hoped for the best as you walked through the doorway. Three thoughts always stuck in your mind during these kinds of things: 

One, you really, really hoped that you wouldn’t trip on the hem of the dress and bust ass in front of all of these people, effectively ruining the ceremony and humiliating yourself in the process. 

Two, Am I taking too long? I’m taking too long. Oh fuck, all of these people are staring at me wondering why I won’t hurry up, aren’t they? This isn’t my wedding, I should just-

Three, you wonder what it might be like if it was. For a split second, your dress is white, your heart is fluttering, and the man of your dreams is waiting for you at the end of the aisle. 

Your eyes go there without really meaning to. Greg is there, of course, sweating bullets. Idly, you wonder if the photographer can fix that in editing. God, you hope so. Poor Melissa. 

Then your gaze moves slightly to the right, and the fluttering in your chest returns. 

Whatever lingering annoyance you had with the best man and his lack of punctuality was out the window now, his warm brown eyes melting your resolve in an instant. He smiled, showing off the dimples in his cheeks and you felt yourself returning it before your brain had time to interfere. Reaching the altar and planting yourself in your designated space, your nervousness has morphed into something you can’t quite identify, but don’t have much time to linger on. The flower girl is already making her way down the aisle, distributing the petals in the way you hand practiced repeatedly last night, much to your relief, and your heart is still racing long after Melissa walks through the doors. 

Time always passes strangely during these types of things. The ceremony begins after you almost miss your cue to take the bouquet from her, and she shoots you a confused look over when it passes into your hands. As the officiant drones on and on about the bigger meaning of what is taking place here today, you find your arms aching as you try to hold both bouquets still. You wonder if you would be sore later from holding your arms this way for so long, and silently hope that everyone remembers not to lock their knees as you all try to remain frozen in place for the better part of an hour. 

Finally, the officiant arrives at the portion of the ceremony you’d all been waiting for, the vows. The words of love and commitment that made your insides all warm and fuzzy. The best part of any wedding, hands down. A guaranteed tear-jerker, and, more importantly, the signal that all of this would soon be over. 

“I, Greg, take you, Melissa, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, 'til death do us part.”

Oh, what you would give to have that... The thought brought a lump to your throat, the tears in your eyes somewhere between happy and sad. Longing. That was the word for it. You forced yourself to look away from the scene, giving yourself a moment of reprieve from your own insecurities. 

You didn’t mean to make eye contact with Marcus at that moment, but you found him looking back at you. The space between his eyebrows creased slightly as he noticed the pain in your eyes. 

Receptions always seemed to drag, especially when you were unlucky enough not to check the plus-one box on the invitation. The bridal party had gathered themselves at one long table for dinner, but the cake had been cut well over an hour ago and all that was left was smalltalk and dancing. Or, in your case, people-watching. 

You sighed, your chin resting on your hand as you watched the couple sway to the music. They looked like they were lost in their own little world, their foreheads touching as they spoke in hushed whispers that no one could hear but them. You couldn’t remember the last time that someone had looked at you like that. Actually, you weren’t sure that anyone had ever looked at you like that. 

“They seem happy, huh?” A voice said from beside you. You hadn’t noticed the chair being pulled out or the tall, tuxedo-clad body dropping into it, but you looked over your shoulder to find Marcus beside you. You hadn’t dared to speak a word after the ceremony or during photos, but you had spent a good portion of the evening mesmerized by the soothing sounds of his voice as he gave the speech for his toast. It was low and raspy and warm, like whiskey and honey, and it gave you goosebumps now that it was finally being directed towards you. 

“I would hope so,” You agreed quietly. “They did just get married two hours ago.” 

“Do you want to dance?” He asked, giving you an inviting, hopeful smile and holding his hand out to you. “No pressure, but I wouldn’t really be fulfilling my best man duties if I didn’t ask the maid of honor to dance.” You nodded gratefully, taking his hand and allowing him to help you up and lead you out towards the dance floor.

“Can I ask you something?” He wondered, his voice quiet at the pair of you swayed to the music. Marcus had, it seemed, become your unofficial dance partner for the evening. He danced like a dork during the fast songs, but the slow songs were where he really shined. 

“Go ahead,” You nodded. 

“Earlier you seemed kind of… down. Anything you want to talk about?”

“Was it that obvious?” You cringed. You hoped that Melissa and Greg hadn’t picked up on your moodiness. 

“I’m pretty good at reading people. Comes with the job, you know? Are you not a big fan of weddings?”

“No, I love weddings,” You shook your head. “Sometimes it just feels like… You know that phrase, ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’? Well, that’s the unofficial title of my autobiography.” 

A soft snort escaped his nose, and you narrowed your eyes at him playfully. 

“Excuse me, are you laughing at my misfortune?”

He raised his hands in surrender, temporarily pausing your dancing, and you immediately felt the absence of the warmth from your waist and hand. “Not at all. I’m sort of in the same boat, actually.” 

He took your hand once more, raising it above your head and spinning you before the pair of you returned to your swaying.

“The thing is, I’m happy for Melissa, I really am, but she’s never even wanted to get married. Not until she met Greg. But here she is, getting her fairytale wedding, while I couldn’t even find a date for tonight. I’ve always liked the idea of being married. The whole madly in love, growing old together, building a life with someone kind of thing. I know it’s stupid, but I really, really want it, and sometimes it feels like my life is always just going to be… this,” You explained, gesturing arbitrarily small corner of dance floor the two of you had cut out for yourselves. “Standing on the sidelines, watching everyone else find their soulmate and wondering what the hell is wrong with me.” 

“I know the feeling. I once watched Greg give himself a concussion trying to smash a beer can on his head,” Marcus revealed. “Not exactly a catch, but I guess there’s someone out there for everyone.” 

You laughed at that, the tension easing itself out of your shoulders. “A concussion?”

“I drove him to the hospital and everything,” He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the sound of your soft giggles. He gave your waist an encouraging squeeze, relieved that the sadness in your eyes had finally disappeared. 

“Alright, so we’ve discussed my deepest, darkest secret. Isn’t it your turn to make an embarrassing confession?” You asked teasingly. You were having more fun than you’d expected to have this evening; Marcus’ presence seemed to eclipse everything around you. 

He hummed thoughtfully, nodding. “Does it have to be embarrassing?”

“Maybe not embarrassing, but it can’t be boring,” You decided, your curiosity piqued. 

“Okay,” He agreed. “I told Greg that I was working a case and that’s why I had to catch a red-eye this morning instead of getting in last night.” 

“Mmm, I’ve gotta say. That is a bit boring,”

“Yeah? Well, it was a lie.”

“Oh? You’ve caught my interest. And what is your excuse for the stress-induced headache your tardiness caused me this morning?”

“I almost decided not to show up at all,” He admitted. “Made it all the way to the airport before I turned around and went home. Turned off my phone, completely unpacked… My fiancé left me for another man about a year ago, and I guess I still have some wedding-related issues of my own to work through. But Greg is one of my best friends, so… here I am.” 

“Oh, I’m…” You fumbled, not quite prepared for the level of honesty that he’d given you in his answer. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know-” 

“No, no,” He shook his head. “It’s okay. I just meant that… I get it. It’s like you said. A life, a home, a family… That’s everything I’ve ever wanted. I thought I did everything right and that clearly wasn’t enough, so I started thinking that maybe there was something wrong with me. But I think the truth is that she just wasn’t the right person.”

“Wow, Marcus… I know there’s an open bar, but I feel like I should buy you a drink after that. That’s horrible…” 

He chuckled, shrugging. “I was pretty relieved when I saw I wasn’t the only one here counting down the hours until I could leave and go home.” 

“So… do you still think the right person is out there, then?” You asked quietly. 

“Oh, definitely,” Marcus said confidently, squeezing the hand that was still clasped in his. His eyes were molten as they looked into yours with an earnestness that set your heart racing.  “Maybe they’re just running a little late.” 

Melissa glanced over her shoulder to look at the maid of honor and best man, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she turned back to her new husband. 

“You don’t have your wallet on you, do you?” She asked, the I-told-you-so obvious in her tone. 

“You don’t win the bet unless he asks her out,” Greg reminded her. 

“Greg, get real. You see the way they’re looking at each other. I want my twenty bucks, babe.” 

Greg glanced over at his friend, instantly recognizing Marcus’ lovestruck expression. He had to hand it to Melissa, she’s one of a hell of a matchmaker. 

“Double or nothing,” He countered. “I’m guessing…. A wedding within the next… Two years?” 

Melissa scoffed. “Bring it on. I’ll rig the bouquet toss and we’ll have that invitation taped to the fridge within the year.”

General Taglist: 

@theravenreads @marshmallowtraver @computeringturtle @adikaofmandalore @pascalisthepunkest @supernaturalcat7 @maythxthirstbxwithyou

Pedro Character Taglist: 

@coldlilheart​

[puckinghell]

Almost | Nathan MacKinnon

Summary: Every time Nate doesn’t tell you he loves you, he almost does. Until the clock suddenly starts ticking, and almost might not be enough. Words: 5.3k Note: I wrote this all at once and I couldn’t be bothered to read it after to make sure it made sense so excuse me if it doesn’t. We’re in the midst of a global crisis, I couldn’t buy potatoes in the supermarket cause it’s empty, and I don’t have my emotional support dumbass hockey boys, so you can imagine the emotional distress I’m under.

---

Nate isn’t very good at flirting.

He knows that, and he’s known that for a long time. Not only because he’s got pretty good self-insight, but also because his teammates have been telling him for years. 

In fact, the first time he went out with Tyson, back when he just came onto the Avs and going out was a big deal to him, Tys shook his head and said: “If you don’t learn how to flirt you’re gonna end up dying alone. With a Cup and enough gold to drown in, but alone.” 

Nate loves Tys to death, but he still thinks about that night sometimes and wants to kick Tys in the shin.

Because as much as he’s bad at flirting, he never really thought it was a problem. Surely one day a girl would come into his life and she’d like him so much she would do the heavy lifting, and he could just kinda cruise along. Or maybe one day, when the right girl would come into his life, it would all be easy, suddenly. 

Except.

He’s pretty sure that you are the right girl. He has been sure about that for the past two years, ever since you became friends. And yet, you’re still friends. Just friends.

Nate thinks he kinda accidentally put himself in the friend zone. At first he thought it was fine if you were just friends, because it would grow into something more naturally. 

But one day Gabe turned to him solemnly and said: “Once she’s put you in the ‘Don’t go there’ part of her brain, you’re not coming out of there, bro.” 

He’d waved Gabe off, but now he’s starting to think Gabe was right. 

Because in the beginning, sometimes, you’d look at him a certain way, or you’d say something, and Nate was certain you meant it in a flirty way. Was sure he saw his own feelings reflected in your eyes. But those times became less and less frequent and now, he can’t remember the last time you looked at him like that. He only knows that you talk to him about dates you go on, like it doesn’t break his heart to think about you with someone else. And you wrap your arms around him so easy and comfortably, like the butterflies in his stomach when you touch him have no right o be there. And you ask to sleep in his bed with him after late movie nights like the thought of it ever being anything more than sleeping has never entered your mind. Nate thinks maybe he’s missed his window, but he also can’t imagine not ending up with you. So he starts his quest of getting you to notice him in a different way.

--

It’s shortly after he made that decision that he’s finding himself in Gabe’s backyard, a bottle of beer in his hand as he stands next to EJ who is grilling steaks on the barbecue. Gabe’s summer barbecue is somewhat of a staple, for the Avs, and if he thought that having a baby would mean Gabe’s parties would come to an end, Nate was wrong. Gabe flutters through the backyard with Linnea on his arm like he’s never done anything else. He switches his own beer bottle with Linnea’s bottle of milk – or whatever she’s drinking – between people he chats to, and before too long he shows up next to Nate and EJ. “Looking good,” Gabe whistles, looking at the grill. “Nate, are you staring at Y/N again?” Nate swirls around to face his captain; he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at you, but perhaps he was, because he knows you’ve been talking to Josty for the past 15 minutes and he’s not entirely happy about the way Josty leaned into you while he laughed at something you said. “It’s too late, bud,” EJ says, his signature toothless grin appearing. “You’ve waited too long and now she’s going to think you mean everything in a friendly way.” “That’s not true!” Nate starts protesting, even though he knows EJ is just trying to rile him up; but he can’t really make his point because you choose that moment to come over to them. “Are you still not done?” you tease EJ, playfully bumping against his shoulder. “I’m hungry, EJ, can you not grill a little faster?” “Grilling is like art,” EJ grumbles, “you can’t rush it.” “That’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said,” you answer, your voice filled with fondness. “Ah, there’s Linnea! Can I hold her?” You make grabby hands at the baby and Gabe easily passes her to you, which, honestly, rude. “You never let me hold her!” Nate sputters, and Gabe shrugs. “That’s because Y/N is responsible and you killed the only succulent you had in your house.” “A succulent is not the same as a baby. I could take care of her.” Nate feels extremely offended, even more so when you giggle. “No offense, but if I had to pick someone to take care of Linnea, it would be Y/N, then Colin, then literally anyone else, before it would be you,” says Gabe. “Even Josty?” Nate whines, and at that moment, Mel steps in next to Gabe, putting her hand on his back. “Are we letting Tyson take care of Linnea?” she asks. “Absolutely no way,” Gabe is quick to answer, and you suppose it’s a good thing Josty isn’t here to hear that. “I was just saying I would let Y/N take care of our little girl.” “Oh, would you?” Mel excitedly grasps your shoulder. “Gabe and I haven’t had a date night in like, months! “Sure, I’d love to,” you answer truthfully. You slide your finger into Linnea’s hand, the baby making excited gurgling noises as she clasps down on it. She’s stronger than she looks. “Can I come?” Nate says suddenly. His cheeks are a little tinted, even though it’s not that warm outside anymore. “It could be like, a babysitting date.” “Oh, of course!” you answer. “That’s a perfect idea, Nate! Mel, we should set up a play date for Linnea with my sister’s baby!” You ignore EJ’s cackling laugh and what sounds like a low groan coming from Nate, instead follow Mel to the porch with Linnea in your hands to plan the play date. EJ slings his arm around Nate, grinning a little wickedly as he says: “So close, Nathan. Almost got her.”

Nate elbows him in the stomach loud enough to earn a disapproving tut from Gabe.

--

Nate tells Sid about his plan during their monthly FaceTime session. “Good luck with that, dude,” Sid says, and it doesn’t even sound that condescending, coming from him. “What do you think I should do?” Nate knows asking Sid for advice on flirting is like asking a blind man for advice on how to see, but he’s getting desperate and he really, really doesn’t want to have to ask Tys. He’d never live that one down. “Uh,” Sid answers, and that’s about as much as Nate was expecting from him, anyway. “Maybe ask her out to dinner, or something?” Actually, that’s more than Nate was expecting from Sid, because that’s actually not the worst idea. Sure, you’ve gone out to dinner together many times, but it was always very clearly not a date setting; either the other guys were there, or it was at a MacDonalds – Nate doesn’t like to go to junkfood places, but he supposes if Tys was gonna leave any imprint on him, it would be his love for McFlurry’s – or it was just dinner at his apartment, wearing sweatpants and ordering Chinese while watching some dumb Netflix show. His chance to ask you comes quicker than he thought, because he’s still talking to Sid – about hockey, this time, something Sid does actually have great advice on – when you come barreling into his apartment. Your hair is wet from the rain and you shrug off your rain coat with a wave in his direction. “It’s pouring,” you tell him, “and I walked to work, so.” To anyone else, it would be a bad explanation, but it’s not the first time you’ve showed up at Nate’s apartment like this. You like to walk to work when it’s not too cold but sometimes the weather surprises you and you don’t want to walk back in the rain or the wind. Nate’s apartment is a lot closer to your work than your apartment, so it’s become a habit of yours to go to Nate’s on days like that and just hang out in his apartment until you either fall asleep there or Nate offers to drive you home.    “Is that Y/N?” Sid asks. “Hey, Y/N!” “Hi Sid!” you call back. “Nate, I’m gonna shower.” “Ask her,” Sid says, which is very pushy for Sid, who usually never tells Nate to do anything, instead just says “If I were you, I would consider” and let Nate figure out the underlying message. “Ask me what?” you ask Nate curiously, eyeing him up and down. He’s glaring at Sid as if Sid said something wrong, and when he looks at you, he doesn’t quite catch your eye. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me?” Nate asks. It’s a bit of a formal question for something you do at least once a week, but you shrug it off; Nate is a bit weird, sometimes, and you’re used to that. “Sure,” you say. “Let’s order Thai. Get my usual while I’m showering? I’m hungry.” Then you yell: “Bye Sid!” before making your way to the bathroom. Nate lets out a frustrated sigh and Sid sounds sympathetic when he says: “Almost there, dude. Just, next time, if I were you, I’d consider…” Nate is already not listening anymore.

--

Today is the day, Nate has decided. He bought roses, which EJ told him is lame and Gabe told him is great idea, and he cooked pasta, for which he used Sammy’s recipe. He’s not a good cook, but Sammy promised it’s impossible to mess up, and he thinks he did alright. He texted you this morning to ask you to come to his place for dinner. You replied with a sure :) and Nate takes that to be a good sign. He has a plan. When you walk in, he’ll take your coat, instantly changing the routine between you, because he normally stays on the couch when you open the door with your key. He won’t be wearing sweatpants, either, not even if he expects you might be; he’s wearing black jeans and a nice button up, and he’s even done his hair. Well, made an attempt to; it didn’t really work out and now it looks kinda the same as always, but hey, he’s really trying, here. Next, he’ll lead you to the table, which he’ll actually have set up, and at that point, surely you understand something different is happening, because a set up table is so different from his normal paper plates and Netflix. Then he’ll give you the roses and confess his feelings. He’s not really thought that part through too much, because every time he thinks about it he almost throws up. So. He’ll have to wing that. The problem, Nate finds out, with planning everything to perfection, is that when one thing goes wrong, the entire plan has to go out the window. Because half an hour after you were supposed to arrive, he gets a text saying sorry I’m late! Be there in 10 and he knows he’s gonna have to reheat the pasta, which Sammy said was not the point of pasta. But he’s not gonna kick off and cause a scene when you arrive, because he reasons it doesn’t really matter, in the grand scale of things. So he sits on the couch and waits. Finally, the door swings open and Nate jumps to his feet, ready to take your coat from you. Except, you’re not wearing a coat; you’re wearing his old hoodie and for some reason his breath hitches in his throat and suddenly he feels like his feet are nailed to the floor, unable to move. “Hey, sorry I’m late,” you call, basically running further into the apartment. “I came from the gym and let me tell you, I have got great news!” “News?” Nate echoes. You stop right in front of him, your eyes shining and a bright smile on your face. Suddenly, you lift an eyebrow, eyes catching on something. “Nathan MacKinnon, did you do something to your hair?” Before Nate can answer, you shrug and continue. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Guess what happened at the gym!” “What?” Nate seems to only be able to repeat what you say, so he decides to stick with that. “I got asked on a date!” Nate thinks if he had one wish, he would wish for the floor to open up beneath his feet and for him to sink through the building, all 7 floors below his apartment, and then down into the ground, until he could bury himself in the dirt. “A date?” You’re so hyped you don’t even notice your best friend is simply repeating your words, barely reacting in any other way. “He’s so hot, this guy, Nate! He comes to the gym every Thursday, just like I do, and we never talk but sometimes I catch him looking, and like, I look back, you know? And today he came over and he asked if I wanted to get a drink, but obviously I had plans with you and I would never blow you off, so I said we could do it tomorrow. I have a date tomorrow, Nate!” In your excitement, you reach forward and wrap your arms around Nate, pressing your face into his chest. His heart is beating fast, and you notice that he kinda just remains frozen into place, so you look up at him with a frown. “Nate? You okay?” That seems to shake Nate from his trance, as he literally shakes himself out of it and slowly puts his arms around you. With a happy sigh, you allow yourself to sink into the embrace. “What are we eating, anyway? I’m hungry.” Nate praises any and every God there could possibly be that he decided to leave the door to the dining room closed. “Whatever you want, we can order,” he answers. “I’m just gonna, uh, get changed.” “I thought you looked fancy,” you grin, letting go of him and dropping onto the couch. “What about Italian?” Hours later, Nate throws away the empty pizza boxes and puts the roses in the bin with them, and then he goes to his bedroom to scream into a pillow. He wants to call you, wants to ask you to not go on a date with that guy. But then he thinks about how excited you looked and he doesn’t call. He doesn’t call, but he almost does, and he thinks that’s a pretty good way to describe how his life is going.

--

Nate has truly hit rock bottom, which is why he’s scrolling through his phone until he finds the familiar name. “Dogggg!” Tys yells into the phone, because he can never answer the phone like a normal person. “I’m baking chocolate chip cookies!” And Nate is suddenly a little overwhelmed with how much he misses his best friend. “Baking?” he teases. “What kinda mental breakdown are you going through this time?” “Hey, fuck you,” Tys says, but he sounds mellow and not bothered at all. “What’s up?” And Nate has been planning to ease into this conversation, have a little small talk, maybe talk about Toronto and how the coaching change has been working out for Tys, but Tys is his best friend – apart from you – and suddenly he can’t keep it to himself anymore. “I’m in love with Y/N,” he blurts out, and he hears a clank on the other side of the line that sounds suspiciously like Tyson dropping a spoon. “Well, yeah,” Tys comes back, a little too calmly for Nate’s liking. “But I meant like, what’s up with you that’s new, Dogg.” “I need to do something about it,” Nate says, and that seems to get Tyson’s attention, cause he suddenly sounds a lot more interested when he says: “Oh?”    “Cause like,” Nate starts, and he knows he’s about to start rambling. “Cause I’m so into her, you know, and I have been for so long, but I don’t think she sees me that way? And maybe if I would’ve done something sooner, she would’ve thought of me as an option, and she wouldn’t be going out with that guy right now..” “Wow hold up,” Tyson interrupts. “Wait, she’s got a boyfriend?” “No!” The force with which that word erupts from Nate’s mouth is maybe a little too telling, cause Tyson immediately goes into ‘calm down Nate’ mode. “Hey, hey, it’s just a date or two, right?” he soothes. “It’s totally not serious yet. And you and her, you’ve got history, dude. She loves you! There’s still time!” “What if she doesn’t love me in that way, though?” Nate asks, and he hates how tiny his voice sounds. “Then she’s got no taste, Nate,” Tyson says, awfully genuine. “You’d be an awesome boyfriend. Hell, you’ve basically been her boyfriend, you two act like a couple all the time.” Nate hadn’t thought of it like that. “Cause like, you’re always hanging out together, right?” Tys continues. “And you bring her to all your events as your plus one. She cooks you dinner at least once a week. You pick her up and drop her off when it’s raining and she doesn’t wanna walk. You always get her a Christmas present. She even bakes your favorite cookies when you’ve had a tough game.” He sounds slightly jealous when he says: “Cookies, bro! That’s true love.” And, well, Nate had always thought that was just a friend thing, but when he thinks about it, he doesn’t really treat any of his other friends that way. Has never picked up his phone at 4 am because Sid was calling, never ran a bath for Tys after a long day. Maybe, in a way, he has been acting like your boyfriend. Except. “We don’t kiss and stuff, though.” Tyson laughs. “And stuff. I bet you want the stuff, huh, bro?” “Shut up,” Nate grumbles, but he’s too thankful for Tyson’s input to put much heat behind it. “Brutes, what do I do?” “You need to complete the package, Dogg,” Tys says, sounding confident. “You’re almost her boyfriend. Now go get that kiss and be it for real.”

--

Nate is not usually a big drinker, but this, he needs to be super, super drunk for. “Careful,” Burky says, as he watches Nate slam back another shot. “That’s a lot of alcohol, Nate.” “You gonna call Gabe on me?” Nate says, defiant, and Burky shrugs. “No, but if you need to be carried home, I’ll get Z to do it.” That’s enough for Nate to not order another shot right away. “He’s upset because Y/N is here with a guy.” It’s Comphy who speaks, in a dull tone like he’s talking about the weather. Josty, who is with them too, sits up a little straighter. “She came with a guy?” “Shut up,” Nate all but growls. “I didn’t know when I invited her the invitation would be extended.” He really hadn’t; he’d asked you to come out with the boys after the game because he found out you were bringing the guy – Nate purposely forgets his name every time – and he figured he was running out of time. At least if he kept you out all night you couldn’t go home with the guy, and he might find the courage to tell you how he feels. Except then you’d shown up with the guy in tow, and now he’s wondering if it’s possible to drown himself in tequila. He must’ve looked properly miserable for the guys to crowd around him like they are; Gabe went home because he’s a dad now, but Comph and Josty and Burky are all sitting with him, refusing to have fun now that their assistant captain looks ready to commit a crime, and Z and EJ both keep shooting worried glances his way. Nate really doesn’t care. What he cares about is that you’re with with a guy that’s not him, and you’ve barely paid attention to him. He’s just about drunk enough that that annoyance is starting to become unbearable, and just drunk enough that it seems like a good idea to do something about it. “Nate, no…” Burky starts, when Nate stands up, and Comphy reaches for him, but even drunk Nate is quicker than them and he starts pushing his way through the crowd, to where you’re standing with the guy and laughing at something he’s saying. You feel two strong arms wrap around your waist, the grip almost too tight as you’re pushed flat against a muscular chest. For a second, you freeze, ready to fight, but then you smell familiar cologne and you recognize the arms that are wrapped around you in iron grip. “Nate?” you say. “Everything okay?” Nate hums in your ear but it’s not really words; just a low hum that makes something tingle in the pit of your stomach. If only Tom knew the effect Nate has on you, he probably wouldn’t be here. As it is, Tom’s eyes are wide as he stares at Nate. You did tell him you knew people on the team and that’s why you could get tickets to the Avs game so last minute, but you’d forgone the mention that your “contact” is Nathan MacKinnon; for some reason, you didn’t really want those worlds to mix just yet. Maybe that’s why you’d been keeping your distance from Nate, tonight. Normally, Nate isn’t the kinda guy to come chasing you down, but you can smell the alcohol on his breathe and his words slur a little when he says: “Where have you been?” Your heart starts beating a little faster. “Here,” you say, trying to ignore the dark tone to Nate’s voice. To say you’re confused in an understatement: Nate sounds almost angry, but he’s clinging to you like he’s not ever letting you go, so surely he can’t be angry at you. You wish Tom wasn’t here. If you’d been alone, you would’ve dragged Nate outside and talked to your best friend, figured out what’s bothering him, because it’s clear there’s something and you don’t like knowing that he’s carrying it alone. Nate has a tendency to carry the entire world on his shoulders, on his own, even when there’s so many people who would share the burden with him. “Dude,” Tom says, “you’re Nathan MacKinnon!” You feel Nate tense behind you. You know he doesn’t like to be recognized in public spaces but honestly, Tom didn’t speak loudly, and he’s not making a scene, so you wiggle out of Nate’s hold and put your hand on his arm.

Usually, that calms him down. “Yeah, Tom, this is my friend Nate. Nate, this is Tom.” Nate’s face is schooled into perfect indifference as he shakes the hand Tom holds out to him; the only thing betraying that he’s annoyed is the fact that his other, free, hand is balled into a fist and his knuckles are white. “Good to meet you, man,” Tom says. “That was such a nice goal there in the 2nd, holy shit dude! I’m like, such a big fan of you!” You cringe a little as Nate narrows his eyes. “Thanks,” he says, and he could not sound more bored if he tried. Even Tom shifts on his feet and nervously looks towards the floor. Then Nate’s hand finds its way to your lower back, his thumb dipping under your shirt. You feel like all the blood is rushing through your cheeks, and when Tom frowns, you feel like you could pass out. “Nice to meet you,” Nate says, in a tone that makes it clear he’d rather undergo a colonoscopy than ever speak to Tom again. “But can I borrow my girl for a second?” My girl? “Nate, what the…” you sputter, but you’re already being pushed through the crowd towards the exit, and before you know it you’re standing in a dark alley with your back to the brick wall of the club. Nate is standing close, so close you can feel his breath against your cheek when he exhales. His eyes are big and a bit wild, and you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat as clearly as you can. “Nate…” You mean to ask him what’s going on, but for some reason his name comes out of your mouth in a quiet rush of air, and it seems to do something to Nate, who inhales sharply and drops his head a little, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I hate it,” he mutters, the words soft enough that you can only make them out because it’s just the two of you in the silent outside air. “Hate what?” “Seeing you with him.” Those words hit you like a freight train, and all you manage to bring out is a soft “uhm”. “I can’t watch you with him,” Nate whispers. His hands are against the wall but his chest is pressed up against yours, and slowly but surely, he’s leaning in. And that’s when you realize, oh. Nate is going to kiss you. To your own surprise, that doesn’t shock you. It’s not some big thing that throws the world of its axis, that shakes the ground beneath your feet. It’s just a realization and then a soft, warm feeling of comfort spreading through your body. You want him to kiss you so badly, but it’s not like something is exploding, knowing that he wants it too. Instead, it’s like something finally falls into place.

“Y/N?” a voice goes, and you almost whine out loud. Nate jumps back like he’s been stung. He stares at you with wide eyes, the color drained from his face, and then he turns around and all but runs away. Tom watches him leave, then faces you, and in that moment you know four things absolutely certain. Nate was jealous. You’re never going to go on another date with Tom. Nate almost kissed you. And almost wasn’t enough.

--

Nate wakes up with a banging headache, the taste of dirt in his mouth and 20 missed text messages. Most of the messages are from Tyson, and there’s one from EJ, who is apparently the one that told Tyson about last night in the first place, because his text simply reads: Had to tell Brutes. You need help. Which is probably fair enough. There’s a text from Josty offering support, one from Burky asking if he got home safe, one from Gabe that Nate doesn’t read because he doesn’t want to see Gabe’s disappointed face every time he closes his eyes for the next few days, and then there’s a text from you. We have to talk. Well, fuck. Nate doesn’t have a lot of experience with relationships, but he knows that’s never a good sign. Nate knows that you know him well enough to have figured out that he was drunk last night, so you probably don’t expect him to be up yet. He takes advantage of that time by taking a shower and brushing his teeth at least four times until he can no longer taste the tequila in the back of his throat, making a cup of coffee and having a freak out at his kitchen counter because surely you’re going to tell him to never talk to you again. Not only did he not have the balls to tell you how he feels about you, he also acted like an asshole to a guy you apparently like – although Nate has no clue why, because he seemed boring as hell – and then he nearly kissed you but instead ran away. Not a great track record. It’s nearly noon when he finally gathers up the courage to call you. After all, you’ve given him two years of friendship, so that’s the least he can do. “Hey,” he says softly into the phone when the connection clicks through. “It’s Nate.” “I know,” you answer, and he’s surprised by how light your tone is. “I have caller ID, Nate. Have had it for years.” It throws him off, how normal you sound. There’s nothing in your voice to betray that you’re mad at him, or that you hate him. He almost forgets what he was going to say. Almost, but not quite. “I’m really sorry about last night,” he blurts out. “Do you mind if I come over so we can talk about it?” “Uhm,” you hesitate, and Nate’s heart sinks into the pit of his stomach.    “Actually, I’m almost at your apartment.” “Oh.” Nate had not expected that. “Uhm, okay. I’ll be here, then.” You laugh. “Yeah, I hoped you would be. See you in a bit, Nate.”    It takes you another 6 minutes to arrive; Nate knows it’s exactly 6 because he stares at the hands of the clock while he waits, while simultaneously thinking of all the possible scenarios in which you could break his heart. When you walk into the kitchen, he feels like he’s about to throw up. “You don’t look great,” is the first thing you say to him. “Have you had breakfast? You know hangovers get worse when you don’t eat.” And that’s... Not quite what Nate was expecting. “Yoohoo, Nate?” You wave your hand in front of his pale face, as Nate stares at you and doesn’t speak. “Are you okay?” “You hate me,” Nate blurts out then, and instantly his eyes fix on the floor in shame. “Or, you should.” You frown. “Why? Because you were a jealous dick last night?” Nate’s face turns from white to a bright shade of pink. You smile, walk to Nate who’s sitting on a barstool at the counter, and carefully push open his knees, so you can slide in between his legs. If Nate’s eyes go any wider, you worry they might fall out.   “Last night,” you repeat, “you were jealous. Of Tom.” It’s not a question, but Nate still nods, avoiding your eyes as he does. “And then you were going to kiss me.” Not a question either, and this time Nate doesn’t respond. “Nate,” you say softly, and the warmth in your tone must be what finally gets Nate to look up at you, his eyes locking with yours. “Do you still want to kiss me?” “I do,” Nate says. His voice is a little shaky but he needs to get this out, because he needs you to know this. “I always want to kiss you.” “Why haven’t you?” you ask. The answer is not really an answer, but it means everything anyway. “I almost did,” Nate says. “So many times, Y/N. So many times I almost did.” “Almost, almost,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, and then you slide your hands behind Nate’s neck and kiss him. He almost stumbles, his hands gripping your waist as if he’s afraid he’ll fall right onto the floor if he doesn’t have something to hold onto. But he’s kissing you back right away, his mouth soft yet forceful at the same time. Like he’s never going to stop kissing you. You don’t think you ever want him to.

--

It’s late at night and the streets of Denver are quiet beneath Nate’s apartment.    He’s laying on his back and you’re draped across his chest, naked bodies tangled together under the sheets. He’s not sure if you’re asleep; your breathing is shallow and even, but every now and then your fingers tighten around where they’re wrapped around his arm, and he wonders if you’re dreaming, or simply checking if he’s still there. As if he would ever leave. Nate can’t help himself; he lightly presses his lips against your hair, the ghost of a kiss against your skin. You hum softly. “Nate?” “Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s me.” A lazy giggle escapes your lips. “Thank God it’s not someone else.” The silence returns, but this time it’s heavy with something Nate knows you’re not saying. “What are you thinking about?” he mumbles, tracing circles on the naked skin of your back. Your answer shakes something inside of him. “That I almost didn’t get to have this.” He thinks of all the times he almost said something to you but didn’t, and curses himself for all the time lost. “Almost didn’t, but we did, and that’s what matters, right?” he speaks into the darkness.

You smile.

You know you’re not dreaming, but you almost can’t believe you aren’t.

Almost. 

[calypsoff]

Eighty Nine. Part 2

My head in my hands, just praying and praying, praying that my daughter gets better. It’s breaking me seeing my daughter this way, I am going to need gran gran Dolly to look over my daughter right now, I can’t lose her. I can’t lose her; I can’t be without my daughter. I should be in that bed not her, her tiny body working overtime, but she is getting the help, by the grace of god she will pull through “please” I breathed out, I shouldn’t have taken her away, I should have kept her at the hotel, I should have not let anyone touch her, but I didn’t. I was being too happy and free with her, if I lose my daughter I am gone with her. Feeling a pair of hands on my arms “come here sis” Rorrey said, getting up from the chair and hugging Rorrey “how did I not realise this Rorrey? Look at my daughter, oh my god” Rorrey turned us around “this isn’t your fault, you got to know this. This happens, it’s a test. She is in the best care, you hear that. She is in the best place, you got to understand. You are so new to this; niece is only six months. Even I didn’t see the issue, you tried. You got the doctor to see her, if the doctor said that how is it your fault, stop this. If you are going to be like this then you not going to be good enough for her, she needs her mother Robyn. I know you need Rylee too, but she needs you, she needs to feel you there and being this way is not going to help her, she is going to feel you upset. You carried her Robyn; she is close to you. Come on Robyn, you got this” Rorrey is saying all this to me, but I am not taking it in, how can I when my daughter is on the bed just looking exhausted, closing my eyes slowly, her cries are just ringing through my mind, just crying and crying and I did nothing but wanting to feed her.

Stood over Rylee, watching her with just tubes all over her. I made the biggest mistake of my life, first with going on tour and I lost my baby, and now this. Maybe I am not fit to be a mother, maybe it’s me “hi, sorry. I am the nurse here, hello” looking behind me “I am Nicole, I work alongside Myriam, I have come to check on Rylee” she is smiling, and I don’t find anything to smile about “can I put this on my baby” I said sniffling, I am a mess “it’s her favourite blankie” she nodded her head “of course you can, we can put it over her legs that is fine. Make her all comfortable” holding it out to her “please” I don’t want to hurt her “I most certainly can” she took the blankie from me, stepping back “we can place it over her legs and body, come closer Rihanna” I don’t think I need to touch my daughter, clearly “I am here” I mumbled “look, her hand movement. It’s must really be her favourite” she fixed Rylee’ hand atop of the blankie “it is” that is it, tears again “do you know how hard it was getting here, nobody would let me in” Mel walked on “oh my word” she saw Rylee, I just sobbed out “oh no, Robbie” I can’t believe that this is happening, why me, why does this have to happen to me, always me “I failed Mel, I failed” Mel shushed me “stop it, hey. Calm down, just stop” Mel wrapped her arms around me tightly.

My head resting atop of Mel’ shoulder as my tears just fell, the nurse is checking on my daughter, but I just want her in my arms, I want her tiny little face to get excited when I see her in the morning, for her to be invested in my morning routine, her aura around me. She is literally my partner; she never left my side, and this has happened “is she ok?” Chris said, lifting my head away from Mel’ shoulder, I totally forgot about Chris being here, he has been so quiet sat there “she is, she needs more oxygen in her system more water and nutrients, she has missed a lot but progress” she walked around the bed slowly “we request no kids here in this room, this will stop the spread. She will be infectious for a good three weeks so the contact from child to child needs to be minimal. We request also to just have immediate family here, we have a few people outside that want to come, and I am sorry, but we can’t have them all in, we will need you both to list the names and keep it minimal, this ward has a lot of sick children, and we have less space, there has been an uprise in RSV cases so don’t feel you are a bad parent, you’re not. But I will leave you all to it, also we did want to move her to another ward, but we want her to get the best care and close to us, we need to keep an eye on her, but we will look to move her into a bigger room then, but I am just outside ok” nodding my head slowly, I wonder who is trying to come.

I wish when I walked into that apartment it was a different situation, I walked into that apartment and my goal was to annoy Robyn all day because it’s her birthday, I wish I didn’t see what I saw when I did, I wish it was different. My heart dropped seeing Robyn and Rylee like that, to see them both just crying out for help, you do anything you can do when you see that, I dropped my crutches and I was gone, to see my daughter and my wife like that and I wasn’t there, she needed me. Rorrey and I only went there early because, I don’t know really I just felt the need to go, and I did. I just jumped into help mode, but I really feel helpless, I haven’t been spending that time with her, she wouldn’t settle with me at all, she disliked me, and I felt it but she was in pain and I can’t blame her. I am going to be a broken man if I lose my daughter and I wasted those months doing what, this is what is important to me, this. I am so fucking dumb, now I am just on the edge. Every fucking moment, every smile, diaper, squeal, yawn, side eye. Hell even being sick on me, and she just smiled when she did, I want it back I took it for granted. When I see Rylee I just see Robyn and she does have my whole heart when she stares at me “fuck” I mumbled putting my head down “you got this” Rorrey placed his hand on my shoulder, he says that but I don’t think I have “you got this” he said again crouching down to me “the best thing you both got is each other, be there for my sister Chris, this is your moment” looking at Rorrey “you think” I mumbled “I do, you need to be the strong one to bring my sister back to thinking straight” Rorrey has a point but I don’t want to be in her face “stay strong brother” nodding my head.

I really would like this cast off, but I have no choice, Mel is stood away from Robyn and this is really my chance to go up to her because she is on her own next to Rylee’ bedside. I haven’t gone closer to Rylee’ bedside, I have stayed away in the corner because it pains me to see it, Robyn keeps blaming herself, but she wouldn’t have left the home and done all these things on her own with Rylee if I was home, I wasn’t there supporting her, so she didn’t herself, I am equally to blame in this. I fucked up bad, and on top of that I haven’t spent time with her, I am nothing like my dad, nothing like him, I am a bad person, and I can only blame myself in this. Hobbling over to Robyn, I am used to using no crutches now, I can just limp around like this. Just that it takes the weight off with crutches, Robyn looked over at me and she looks so pale, tired, her sore eyes. I don’t think I have seen Robyn cry this badly before, I have seen her cry but this, and I understand because I can’t even look at Rylee. I stopped at the side of Rylee “Mel, shall we go and see what my mother is doing” Rorrey said “yeah, we will be back” Mel said, my eyes dragged away to the bed and to see Rylee like that, I turned my head away. I am just so angry and hurt at myself, at everything. A sob left my lips, trying to keep myself together. Robyn turned to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, my lower lip trembling as I tried to supress the cry, but it happened “I know” she said, turning my head and resting my head on Robyn’ shoulder as I let out the cry I was holding back.

Wiping my face with my hands, Robyn moved back from the hug. Looking back over at Rylee, my daughter looks so unwell, and I hate it. Reaching my hand over, my fingers lightly brushing over her hand, her tiny little hands. This kills me so much; she is just so tiny “you know you need to rest” moving my hand back “how?” Robyn turned to me “stop fighting it, you need to at least have a nap. Let’s go and eat or something? Anything, I know you want to be here for Rylee, but you need to be here for that with strength, she needs you but being like this ready to collapse is not it. I am her father; I will be here. Let me be here, like you really do need to rest” so looks so tired, it’s not even funny “what if she wakes up and I am not here” she questioned “she has her uncle and auntie here too that adore her, you know everyone does. Just let’s go and get some food, when they come back we go yeah?” she is so reluctant in doing anything, but she is also so deflated “ok” she breathed out “cool, I think they got places here. I remember when you were having the baby, when I would want a cigarette, Starbucks they have and some other things” walking like this is going to be the death of me, I may need my crutches or get some from here “take me for a cigarette, you still smoke right?” nodding my head “take me when they come back” I don’t want her to smoke but I am not going to say no either, I won’t be doing that to be honest.

I found crutches, well I got the hospital to get some “lift your head up” Robyn said, looking up confused. She yanked my zip up on my jacket “I just don’t want to be seen” nodding my head “I mean you’re easy to notice, somewhat” she is wearing her brother’ jacket and hat, the hood is up too but we have to smoke outside so it’s public “that is your second one now, can we go in after that” she is just smoking my cigarettes “those ain’t cheap either” she side eyed me smiling “I see your spirit, call it a birthday present” this really sucks on her birthday too “ok that’s a cheap present now, I had so much planned for you too” shaking my head “that is sarcasm now, don’t give me that” I chuckled “I erm, I came to annoy you. Your birthday card is at the apartment somewhere, I don’t know where though because it kind of fell in the process, but I did have something planned for you, I had to change plans though” Robyn smiled lightly “sounds about you, coming to annoy me. I feel so much better having this, stressed out of my mind that my birthday doesn’t matter at all but that is sweet of you and that idiot because I know Rorrey was involved in wanting to annoy me” it was his idea “kind of” I won’t admit that.

I apologised to Robyn, I had too because I should be getting her things but like I can’t “it’s fine, you can’t obviously” watching her sit down across from me “Rorrey said that my mother managed to get her way to the room so I will see her, I just didn’t want to see her. Not in a bad way, when I was in that moment I just wanted her advice and I said she is not well, all she could say is that evil eye, she has got it, people are jealous. You flaunt her around everywhere, I am acting like a single mother, if I want to go travelling alone like a single person to give her to you and that I made her ill. Showing off to much, like everything was my fault and I didn’t want to hear that and now she will be like I told you so when I get to the room so I am not looking forward to it at all” I didn’t know Monica was saying all that “damn, really? She has been ok with me, then again your mother scares me so I am on my best behaviour. She was asking me actually, has she called you? And this was a few days ago actually, the day after you picked Rylee and left, and you didn’t call but I just said yeah, but I didn’t know she was doing that” I am shocked “she actually just said just sort yourselves out” I added “hmmm yeah, she kind of wants me to get on with it in a way. That I am not listening, but I just don’t want her involved, her views can be so backwards at times. She thinks the issues aren’t huge for me to move out, she is annoyed that I did, she is praising you for admitting it all to her” I cringed “how else could I get you to stay here” I blurted out “true, I am glad I did. She may have been this way while there and that would have scared me to have to rush back here, lucky call” I had no idea Robyn was having these issues with her mother.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: You definitely won’t trust now, but I hope to see y’all in two weeks anyway, please don’t hate me -Danny

Words: 5,048

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Book 5

Listen to: I Only Wanna Talk To You -by The Maine

Chapter Thirty-Seven: A New Vow.

Many things changed as the school year came to an end, none of them was good. 

Students would avoid her in the halls, they would stare at her and Harry carelessly, some frowning, some just plain scared. That wasn't new and it didn't hurt her anymore.

What hurt her was the way Harry grew distant out of the blue. He wouldn't touch her, not even sit beside her on accident. He would talk to her as if nothing had happened but she could see it in his eyes, some kind of distress, she had the ugly feeling that he resented her.

Mel was talking to Erick one morning in the courtyard, where they used to hang out during her first year. She was there to deliver Dumbledore's message and to thank him, it was their first time talking since the first task.

"I don't know what I would've done without the watch... it saved us."

Erick shook his head. "I merely confirmed his suspicions, Dumbledore was already looking for you when I got to him."

"You got him when I fainted during the task, you stood guard outside the tent while we were inside and I was..." She didn't know what to call it, her first thought was always directed to the word 'dying' but she knew now that those weren't her feelings, it was Harry who'd been dying, not her.

"You looked possessed. I thought you were... that you had..."

"That I was crazy," Mel sighed.

"...How's Harry?"

"We don't talk about that," Mel frowned, not wanting to go there. "Dumbledore has a message for you."

"Tell me."

"You won't like it."

"Try me."

"He said you could be of help," She replied carefully. "That if you're willing, you could join us."

"For what?" Erick asked in puzzlement.

"He didn't explain... said you could search for rogues."

After ten seconds, Erick spoke timidly. "Rogues like me?"

"I think so..."

"He wants me to dig around, see if any other Slytherin shares my... views."

"He kept saying how we have to stick together," Mel shook her head. "I think he's expecting us to try harder next year, unite the houses while we can..."

"I..." Erick started to stress. "It's too dangerous for me, you know that. Half of my friends come from Death Eaters or you-know-who's supporters. It's like walking on thin ice."

"You don't have to do it," Mel said promptly. "I know how your parents feel about this, and if they catch you doing something like that, trying to speak in Dumbledore's favour... I know that in comparison to me, you're on your own. I can't make you risk your well being like this."

Erick stared at her, he remained silent for a while, Mel didn't know what to do.

"Did you know, Miss," He finally uttered, "that Rapunzel isn't saved by a prince?"

She tilted her head and waited for him to finish.

"Found her way out of the mess, rebuilt her life on her own," Erick continued calmly. "I believe we'll do too."

"Bin havin' a cuppa with Olympe," Hagrid said as they settled around his table. "She's jus' left."

"Who?" said Ron curiously.

"Madame Maxime, o' course!" said Hagrid.

"You two made up, have you?" said Ron.

"Dunno what yeh're talkin' about," said Hagrid. When he had made tea and offered around a plate of doughy cookies, he leaned back in his chair and examined Harry and Mel closely. "You all righ'?"

"Yeah," said Harry.

"All right," Mel smiled.

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. " 'Course yeh're not. But yeh will be. Knew he was goin' ter come back. Known it fer years, Harry. Knew he was out there, bidin' his time. It had ter happen. Well, now it has, an' we'll jus' have ter get on with it. We'll fight. Migh' be able ter stop him before he gets a good hold. That's Dumbledore's plan, anyway. Great man, Dumbledore. 'S long as we've got him, I'm not too worried."

Mel looked down to her cup, frowning.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," He said, patting her shoulder gently. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did. Yeh did as much as yer fathers would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."

They smiled, the very first glimpse of their old self coming to the surface.

"What's Dumbledore asked you to do, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "He sent Professor McGonagall to ask you and Madame Maxime to meet him — that night."

"Got a little job fer me over the summer– Secret, though. I'm not s'pposed ter talk abou' it, no, not even ter you lot. Olympe — Madame Maxime ter you — might be comin' with me. I think she will. Think I got her persuaded."

"Is it to do with Voldemort?" "Migh' be," Hagrid grimaced. "Now... who'd like ter come an'visit the las' skrewt with me? I was jokin' — jokin'!"

Mel's eyes found Harry's and he quickly averted his gaze. She frowned, a resolution already forming in her mind that she would clear things out with her best friend before they were back home.

She walked into his room when she knew he'd be alone packing up his things.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?" He said, gaze fixed on his trunk.

"I want to talk to you. You're the only one I want to talk to, but you keep avoiding me..."

"What d'you mean?"

"Can you at least look at me for just a second?" She frowned.

Harry did as told, his face remaining neutral as Mel approached. She looked into his eyes and pulled him in for a hug.

"I'm sorry," She mumbled against his shoulder. "Whatever I did– Please don't be mad. I swear all I wanted was to help you–"

Harry stepped away from her, not returning the hug.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about! You don't... you won't–"

"I'm not mad at you!" Harry said exasperated. "Don't you see this is all my fault?"

Mel blinked.

"What?"

"I saw the bruises... What happened to you during the time Voldemort got me– you could've died!"

"Harry," She looked at him in disbelief. "You could've died."

"This is about you," He replied firmly. "It's my fault. I've dragged you to all of my mistakes and you end up hurt–"

"Those were my choices–"

"It was never your idea," He stated. "Dumbledore said that we're too close..."

"No! That's not... I did all that because I need you to be–"

"This was a mistake," Harry was breathing heavily, he was in distress. "What we did was a mistake."

"What, exactly?" She said in a shaky whisper, knowing where this was going.

"You know," His eyes hardened.

"That's rubbish!" It felt like holding sand, desperately trying not to let him slip away from her fingers. "This is not the solution–!"

"I don't think I ever liked you for real," He blurted out, "it wasn't my choice..."

"What?"

"I... I mean it," He turned around, hastily packing the last bits of clothing. "I think it might be the lifeline stuff... didn't like that you were getting close to other people– It sounds selfish, but it makes sense... some kind of instinct– doesn't mean it was real..."

"Harry, don't be stu–"

"I don't want you," He insisted. "I can't have you."

"Glasses–"

"My name is Harry!" He yelled, turning to face her. "Stop calling me that! I hate it! I hate the stupid nickname and I don't like you!"

Mel felt cornered, Harry had never spoken to her like that before. He turned back and slammed down the lid of his trunk.

"Just leave me alone." He said, abandoning the conversation as well as the room.

She stumbled back to his bed, falling heavily on it. Without being able to control herself, she burst into tears.

Mel avoided him for the rest of the term, spending most of her free time with the twins like the old times. It was good for her spirit, they knew how to make her laugh. During the feast she was seated between them, Dumbledore stood up to give his farewell speech and they fell silent.

"The end of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, fixing his eyes on the Hufflepuff table, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here, enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

And so they did. Every student in the room.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house. He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about... Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

George looked down at her and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so — either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory. There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

She refused to look for him and kept her gaze on the old man ahead.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him."

She lifted her goblet and said his name, but found herself saying it with a new resentment that had never been there before. It didn't feel right.

"The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened — of Lord Voldemort's return — such ties are more important than ever before. Every guest in this Hall, will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again — in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief — and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken — that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst."

Her fists were closed tightly, there was still a faint greenish shadow were the bruise on her forearm had been days before.

"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

" 'Arry!" Fleur Delacour was hurrying up the stone steps, Joseph was beside her.  "We will see each uzzer again, I 'ope. I am 'oping to get a job 'ere, to improve my Eenglish."

"It's very good already," said Ron clumsily.

Mel had her attention on Joseph.

"It was nice," Mel smiled fondly. "You're ten times funnier than your cousin."

Joseph laughed.

"Don't judge him too hard, it's the way he's been brought up. He used to be a lousy kid, very loving too... people grow out of it, unfortunately."

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Maybe," He smiled sweetly at her. "Take care, will you?"

"Yes."

"Will you watch after my cousin too?"

"Not like I have a choice..."

He chuckled. "See you, Mel."

"Good-bye, 'Arry," said Fleur, turning to go with Joseph. "It 'az been a pleasure meeting you!"

As Mel watched them leave, she had the reassuring feeling that maybe Erick wasn't entirely on his own after all.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," said Ron. "D'you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

"Karkaroff did not steer. He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork." Krum said behind them. He looked at Hermione. "Could I have a vord?"

"Oh... yes... all right," said Hermione.

"You'd better hurry up!" Ron called loudly after her. "The carriages'll be here in a minute!"

"Oh shut up, Ron," Mel scolded. "Let her have one moment in private with him."

"What, is not like she'll be missing him lots, they didn't even date."

"You don't need to date someone in order to miss them," She snapped. "Or like them, for that matter..." She felt Harry purposefully look away as she spoke. When Krum returned, he talked to them.

"I liked Diggory. He vos alvays polite to me. Alvays. Even though I vos from Durmstrang — with Karkaroff."

"Have you got a new headmaster yet?" Harry asked.

Krum shrugged. He held out his hand as Fleur had done, shook Harry's hand, and then Ron's. Ron looked as though he was suffering some sort of painful internal struggle. Krum had already started walking away when Ron burst out, "Can I have your autograph?"

Hermione turned away, smiling at the horseless carriages that were now trundling toward them up the drive, as Krum, looking surprised but gratified, signed a fragment of parchment for Ron.

The trip back was good enough, even if Mel and Harry couldn't look at each other in the eye. Dumbledore's speech had given them energies, and just like he'd said before, they still had to remain together, for the greater good.

"There's nothing in there," Hermione signalled to the Daily Prophet Harry was staring at. "You can look for yourself, but there's nothing at all. I've been checking every day. Just a small piece the day after the third task saying you won the tournament. They didn't even mention Cedric. Nothing about any of it. If you ask me, Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet."

"Of course he is," Mel scoffed, "he's an idiot, but not that kind of idiot."

"He'll never keep Rita quiet," said Harry. "Not on a story like this."

"Oh, Rita hasn't written anything at all since the third task," said Hermione delightedly. "As a matter of fact, Rita Skeeter isn't going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her."

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn't supposed to be coming onto the grounds," said Hermione.

"Oh, right!" Mel said. "What was that about?"

"How was she doing it?" said Harry.

"How did you find out?" said Ron.

"Well, it was you and Mel who gave me the idea, Harry."

"What? How?"

"Bugging," said Hermione happily.

"But you said they didn't work —"

"Oh not electronic bugs," said Hermione. "No, you see... Rita Skeeter" — Hermione's voice trembled with quiet triumph — "is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —" Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. "— into a beetle."

"You're kidding," said Ron. "You haven't... she's not..."

"Oh yes she is," said Hermione.

"Holy Godric," Mel laughed loudly for the first time in days.

"That's never — you're kidding —" Ron mumbled, examining the jar.

"No, I'm not. I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing. Look very closely, and you'll notice the markings around her antennae are exactly like those foul glasses she wears."

"There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!" Harry exclaimed.

"When you fainted there was a beetle in the curtain as well," Mel replied, her eyes fixed on the tiny creature. "And when I talked to Cedric before the first task..."

"Exactly. And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree..."

"He was talking to her, in his hand. He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid. I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London. I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

"Hermione, I love you," Mel grinned.

The door of the compartment slid open.

"Very clever, Granger," Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there. "So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favourite boy again. Big deal." He stared at them with bright eyes. "Trying not to think about it, are we? Trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Harry tensed.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this! Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well — second — Diggory was the f —"

It was as though someone had exploded a box of fireworks within the compartment. Blinded by the blaze of the spells that had blasted from every direction, deafened by a series of bangs, Harry blinked and looked down at the floor.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all on the ground and they were on their feet, all four of them having used a different hex. Nor were they the only ones to have done so.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred entering their compartment.

"Interesting effect," said George, examining Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," said Harry.

"Odd– I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, Harry, and George pushed them out into the corridor, when they straighten up, Ron turned his head slightly towards her.

"Er... Mel?"

She walked out of the compartment and found Erick standing there, looking down at the three Slytherins.

"Oh," She smiled. "Hello. Don't worry boys, I got this."

Erick had a sort of exasperated look on his face.

"Why don't you turn around and forget you saw this," George ignored her. "We promise not to hurt you if you do."

"You promise not to hurt me?" Erick let out a dry laugh. "Right..."

"He's not here to report us," Ron said, pushing his brother back into the compartment. "Listen to Mel..."

"Don't annoy her, the year's over and so is the committee," George insisted.

"George," Mel sighed. "It's okay."

"Listen, we can clear all doubts in a moment, but can I talk to her first?" Erick frowned. "In private."

The boys entered the compartment reluctantly, they had just closed the door when he spoke.

"I'll do it. Whatever Dumbledore wants me to do."

Mel was taken by surprise.

"Are you sure?"

"What he said during the speech... he's right," He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "It's time to make a choice."

"But your parents–"

"Don't have to know. If there's any chance that there are more people like me... if I can convince them... it'll be worth it, right?"

Before she could stop herself, she held his hand.

"Come."

"What?"

"Come in for a second, meet the Weasleys."

"So they can kill me? No thanks–"

"They won't," She dragged him inside. Everyone stared at them. "Erick won't report us."

"Good for him," Ron replied in disinterest.

"I think it's time we clear things up," She continued with determination. "Erick and I are good friends. He doesn't need to prove his loyalty to anyone, but he wants to help my uncle, so it'd be brilliant if you could, you know, be nice to him."

"No need to look so outraged," Erick said, staring at the twins' faces. "Being a Slytherin doesn't equal being a monster. I could've reported you to Professor McGonagall thousands of times during the school year but I kept my mouth shut. Why?"

"Because you knew we could've kicked your arse?"

"Very classy," He rolled his eyes. "I did it out of consideration for Mel. Now Dumbledore asked for my help and that's what I'll give. All I want is for you to stay out of my way and stop acting like I'm the danger. I assure you, Mel's the bad influence here. All I care about is being of use."

A heavy silence surrounded them as the boys processed the news.

"All right then, be of use," George shrugged. "Close the door and sit down, we've had enough visitors for today."

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" said Fred, pulling out a pack of cards. "Be of use, Flint, open the window before you sit."

"I'm going to regret this..." Erick groaned, doing as asked.

She purposely seated Erick between her and Harry for the rest of the trip.

"You going to tell us, then?" Harry said to George after a while. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"What?" Erick looked around in confusion.

"Long story," Hermione said over her book.

"It doesn't matter," said Fred. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," said George, shrugging.

"Come on!"

Harry, Hermione, Ron and her insisted so much that Fred lost his patience.

"All right, all right, if you really want to know... it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman? Are you saying he was involved in —"

"Nah. Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?"

"You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah."

"Well," He glanced at Mel, "The git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So," said Fred, "it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!"

"So I guess, you could say I told you so, Lady," George scowled. "We were idiots."

"But — it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back."  

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!"

"Tell me about it," George scoffed. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?"

"He put a bet on you, mate," said Fred. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"I knew it!" Mel exclaimed.

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win! Well — I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope– The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

"My Grandad's a big fan of Zonko's," Erick mentioned casually, placing his cards on the table. "And he relishes on supporting young inventors, reminds him of the old days. If you send me samples I'll show them to him and he might help you... What? Don't look at me like that, it's not dirty money!"

"Sorry," Fred said, raising a brow. "It's weird to see you acting like... well, like a good person."

"Unexpected, you mean," George suggested. "You have the looks of a conceited prat."

"Give it time," Mel muttered.

"Shut it," Erick nudged her arm. "Anyway, I better leave and finish my rounds before we arrive... I'll write if anything comes up, Mel."

They waved him goodbye, the twins looked at her with their eyebrows raised.

"What?"

"Nothing," Fred smirked. "Bad influence you are then, aren't you?"

"You've corrupted Slytherin's Prince!"

"Careful Harry," Fred teased. "Don't let him get too comfortable or he'll think he's got a chance!"

"Shut up," Mel interrupted harshly. "Erick doesn't like me that way..."

"Sure thing, and Krum's nothing but a good mate to Hermione," George grinned.

"Fred — George — wait a moment."

She heard Harry said after leaving the compartment. She froze, curiosity winning over her.

"Take it," He said, and she could hear the distinct sound of coins inside a sack falling onto someone's hands.

"What?" said one of the twins.

"Take it. I don't want it."

"You're mental–"

"No, I'm not. You take it and get inventing. It's for the joke shop."

"He is mental."

"Listen, if you don't take it, I'm throwing it down the drain. I don't want it and I don't need it. But I could do with a few laughs. We could all do with a few laughs. I've got a feeling we're going to need them more than usual before long."

He was giving them the tournament's money. Her heart did that odd flip it hadn't done in days.

"Harry," she kept hearing, "there's got to be a thousand Galleons in here."

"Yeah, think how many Canary Creams that is– Just don't tell your mum where you got it... although she might not be so keen for you to join the Ministry anymore, come to think of it..."

"Harry–"

"Look, take it, or I'll hex you. I know some good ones now. Just do me one favour, okay? Buy Ron some different dress robes and say they're from you."

Harry left the compartment and faced her. There was a moment where she caught a glimpse of something, for a second he looked like he wanted to speak. It disappeared right away though, taking all her hopes with it. He scowled and walked past her without uttering a word.

"See you, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry — thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side.

Harry winked at them, turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently from the station. There was no point worrying yet, he told himself, as he got into the back of the Dursleys' car.

As Hagrid had said, what would come, would come... and he would have to meet it when it did.

Mel entered her mother's car in silence, she was still trying to understand how things had gone to the dogs between her and Harry so quickly. There was something pressing on her chest and she wasn't sure she wanted to plug it out.

Her mother spoke for the first time in the day.

"We're not staying at Privet Drive this summer."

"What?" Mel asked absently.

"We'll go there to get your clothes, then we'll leave first thing tomorrow morning to Remus' place," Her mother explained quickly. "I know you want to stay and make sure Harry's fine, but I have things to do and you can't be left alone–"

"Okay."

Her mother stared at her.

"What?"

"I know Harry's going to be safe, surrounded by muggles and all," She tried to keep her voice neutral. "If we're of use somewhere else, I want to go."

Emily knew right away that something was wrong, but whether if she thought it was about Harry or not, she didn't comment on it.

"All right. It'll be a long summer, this one..."

"Yeah," Mel looked out the window as the car left their parking spot.

The girl felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she'd been dreading to go back and have no one to talk to but Harry. Not that he'd be visiting her house at all, but at least now she had an excuse to stay away from him. To leave him alone, just as he'd requested.

Mel thought, very bitterly, that her biggest dream and worst nightmare had come true at the same time. She made a vow not to wish for anything ever again.

Next Part —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[ducktracy]

188. porky’s poppa (1938)

release date: january 15th, 1938

series: looney tunes

director: bob clampett

starring: mel blanc (porky, porky’s poppa, narrator), bob clampett (duck)

it’s safe to say that 1938 was porky’s best year. speaking in terms of solo cartoons, that is. his cartoons were genuinely funny, stimulating, and he looked great appearance wise. 1939 the porky burnout started, and he was slowly reduced to a smiling stock character whose adversaries and costars were much more alive than he was.

as daffy (and later bugs) rose to popularity, porky slipped into the sidekick role, paired primarily with the duck. with that said, the porky/daffy cartoons are some of the funniest around, and i firmly believe the best cartoons for the both of them are the ones where they’re paired together—with a few exceptions, of course.

however, let’s not get ahead of ourselves: a great year of pig stardom awaits. porky’s father, who made a few appearances during the joe dougherty era, makes his final return. in a story that has loose similarities to the premise of porky’s railroad, porky struggles to convince his father that their cow, bessie, is a much better fit for the farm than the newfangled mechanical cow his father has his eyes on.

the introduction is one of the funniest aspects of the cartoon itself. a hand erases the title credits, scrawled on a blackboard, and fills in “PORKY’S POPPA... HAS A FARM”, mirroring the underscore of “old macdonald” (with substitute lyrics) below it.

a layout of the farm cuts to our pint-sized hero, grinning at the camera as the vocals sing “...and on this farm he had a pig: porky pig, you know.” bobe cannon animates porky struggling to sing along with the lyrics, his “oh buh-beh-boy!”s lagging with the beat. the music halts just in time for porky to pump his fists in frustration, not stuttering once as he grumbles “oh, skip it!”

repeatedly cutting back to the layout of the farm in conjunction with the lyrics is practically a gag within itself. the song grows increasingly absurd, with a goose honking horns, a cow showing off her legs as the vocals sing “with a little calf here, with a little calf there...”, struggling to keep up with the rapid pace of the song. bob clampett lends his own voice to a random duck (no relation to daffy!), following a hand pointing at certain areas of the farm and quacking (”with a little quack here, with a little quack there...”) 

finally, the duck in his psuedo-donald duck voice instructs “EVERYBODY SING!”, complete with some fun and unique typography. the entire song falls to pieces--before, the cutting back to the farm’s layout added an incongruous feeling of calm to balance out the wacky antics of the animals and the song. now, everything happens at once. the duck zips across the screen in a quacking frenzy, the mother cow shows off her baby calves, thrusting them to the beat of the music, the goose is a one man band of assorted horns, etc. blissful chaos.

things slow down as we cut back to porky, who smugly whips out a phonograph behind his back. the record is just him saying “oh boy!”, playing correctly to the beat of the music. he’s got this song number figured out... or does he?

even technology can’t conceal his stutter. the record begins to skip, mimicking the sound of his stutter, and porky smashes the phonograph to pieces as he slams it against the ground. the wordless yet furious stare he gives the audience as the dying record croaks out a distorted “oooooooh..... boooooooooy....” is nothing short of priceless. though he didn’t say a word himself during this scene, his motives, thoughts, and emotions are clearly visible. you can FEEL his pride at his solution, as well of the subsequent fury of his solution blowing up in his face. a wonderful end to a hilarious song sequence. 

“but on his farm, he has a mortgage... woe, oh woe, oh woe!” the score turns in to a mournful, minor key dirge, with anthropomorphic mortgage papers posing proudly on the farm. some very clever posing and metaphorical play as we fade to porky’s dad, moping around on the farm, the mortgage aligning with his silhouette and becoming a physical weight on his back. more playing with typography as the narrator reads aloud the words on the screen:

this is a parody of the march of time, a radio program who would often announce the death of a notorious person by declaring “and so, today, as it must to all men, death came to [name], [age].” even without the context, the gag is rather amusing, bringing a different change of pace to the cartoon with the addition of a narrator and the typography. knowing the source of the gag makes it hit just the right spot.

porky’s dad mutters about ruination, how he has no milk and no money, etc. mel blanc does a fine job of mimicking joe dougherty, maintaining the stutter and the low voice--in the dougherty cartoons, porky’s father was just dougherty’s natural speaking voice, whereas porky was sped up considerably. you can hear both at once here for comparison. 

we pan over to the cause of one of these stresses: their cow, bessie, has been quarantined (how timely!) for “hoof ‘n mouth trouble”, a play on hand-foot-and-mouth disease. clampett opts to take things just a step further--we truck inside the stall to see bessie posing for the camera, grinning with her foot INSIDE her mouth, batting her eyelashes and all. the “bull bontana” (bull montana) poster  plastered inside of her stall is a clever touch. 

after seeing that bessie’s production chart has dipped overwhelmingly into the negatives--a roll of paper unfurling at porky’s father’s feet, indicating just how poor the farm is doing--he places an “out of order” sign on the stall door.

suddenly, porky’s father grows aggravated. “i need to send you to the hamburger factory!” cue a close-up of bessie tearfully picturing her fate--a pile of burgers and hotdogs make up her figure. clampett would reprise this gag (albeit in a much more cruel manner) in porky’s last stand 2 years later, where daffy eagerly envisions a steaming hot hamburger in place of an innocent little calf. 

this is the second cartoon to make an ACME reference, the first being buddy’s bug hunt back in 1935. porky’s father phones up ACME mail order company, asking for “one cow--airmail”. context clues are just as important to the gag than the reveal itself: porky, his father, and bessie all become alert to the sounds of an airplane making a cacophony overhead. suddenly, a package bursts through the barn ceiling, floating to the ground with a neatly tied parachute. the animation appears to be the work of john carey, from the tall, pill-shaped eyes to the slow, drawn out way that porky blinks.

norm mccabe takes over to animate the grand reveal. lots of wonderful little subtleties: porky and his father are timed slightly differently, giving them both a natural sense of interaction and movement. there’s a lovely little accent on porky’s father opening the package by pulling a string--he jerks his head up slightly as he plucks the string, allowing the audience to feel the physical impact and snap of the pluck. it’s subtle, but very well done. 

instead of a flesh and blood cow, a mechanical hunk of metal slowly unfurls to life as the package opens. as porky’s father reads the label (The New 1938 CREAMLINED COW), porky himself objects to the new addition. “aww, eh-the-there ain’t no such animal!”

indeed there is: porky’s father loads a pile of hay into a chute, pressing down on the cow’s paintbrush tail. the cow pumps along to a brassy score of “old macdonald”, churning out milk from its metal udders, the milk pouring straight into an assembly line of bottles below. bob clampett’s puns are plentiful in this cartoon (notice how there’s no writer’s credit--he often said that he would write some of his earliest cartoons himself. i assume he wrote this one as well? i wonder how much input chuck jones had in the story?), but delivered nonchalantly, so they can actually be enjoyed. the cow caps the milk bottles by putting literal newsboy caps on top of the bottles, the paintbrush tail painting “cream paint” to the outside of the bottles and forming the illusion of cream. interesting business practices!

bobe cannon animates a delightful scene with porky. fun animation and fun dialogue make for a great combo. some very fluid, light, and fun animation of porky giving his pep talk as he hops around, swinging his arms, nonchalantly pushing his hat out of his face after getting so excited. “c’mon, eh-beh-beh-beh-bessie! we won’t let that old eh-neh-nuh-new fangled eh-ceh-co--heifer beat us. you just eat your uh-wuh-wee-weh-whea--eh-ha-hay, and show that eh-teh-eeh-eh-tin-can cow who can make the most...”

porky lowers bessie’s foot from her mouth by climbing on it, preparing to shovel a forkful of hay into her mouth, however, she shoves her foot right back in it, much to porky’s annoyance. “aww, every time you open your muh-mee-muh-me-eh-mou--kisser, ya put your eh-feh-eh-foot in it! eh-bee-bessie, you gotta eat! you eh-deh-dee-eh-don’t wanna be eh-seh-seeah-seeah-smothered in onions, eh-do ya?” 

treg brown’s sound effects of doors creaking as her leg is lowered is the perfect touch to the gag. porky struggles to feed bessie, eventually getting stuck in her mouth himself as he attempts to hold both legs down to no avail. he frees himself, just in time to hatch an ingenious idea.

his plan works: porky places the entire pile of hay onto bessie’s legs, who swallows it up whole, her mouth comically huge as she attempts to swallow it. porky is overjoyed, clapping at her efforts before rushing off to give her some privacy.

instead of porky just milking her like a regular farmer, clampett pushes the entire scenario further. porky paces around in the manner of an expectant father, accompanied by a soft score of “lullaby on broadway”. the sound of a baby crying prompts porky to do a gorgeously animated head shake of surprise--bessie hands him a milk bottle, which porky carefully swaddles and places in a basket. 

the charade continues, with clampett lulling us into a false sense of security with an already absurd gag. cue a gag that would have been incredibly risque in 1938: at about the fifth bottle, porky reaches out and finds that bessie hands him a bottle labeled “CHOC. MALT”, accompanied by an underscore of “i wish i was in dixie”. porky and bessie both grow bashful, but porky’s nonchalant whistling is cut to a half as bessie delivers yet another bottle. “gosh--eh-ceh-ceh-quin-eh-qui-eh--quart-tuplets!”

porky rushes over to his farther to share the good news. however, dad is too preoccupied with the fancy mechanics of the cow to pay bessie any mind. he shows porky a barrage of dairy-related puns churned out by the creamlined cow:

cottage cheese (cheese in the shapes of houses--and an outhouse for good measure--don the conveyer belt), limburger cheese (cheese slices with clothes pins pinned to their “noses” to ward off the stench), and swiss cheese (a cuckoo bird pops out of the cow’s mechanical side and sprays the cheese wheels with bullets, which turn into yodeling mouths). interestingly, mel’s voice for porky’s father changes in this scene--it’s still him, but the nasally undertones are absent. i wonder if he did this on a different day?

nevertheless, the staging of the next gag is genius. the majority of the screen is black, save for a small window revealing porky holding onto bessie’s udders. “c’mon, eh-beh-bessie! hurry eh... hurry eh... step on it!” the window expands to reveal bessie pouring a bucket of milk into a line of funnels (rather than udders), which are then evenly distributed to the bottles. “’ats a guh-geh-gee-eh-girl!”

mechanical cow seems to be doing just fine, plopping cherries on top of elaborate ice cream sundaes and milk shakes. the only fault in the system is the cow’s own personal whiskey bottle rolling down the assembly line, which it confiscates promptly. 

porky, on the other hand, is making do. with an ice block on her head, bessie churns out ice cream cones to the best of her ability. as the cones grow smaller and smaller in size, porky orders her to eat more hay, which she happily does so.

now, it’s cow vs. cow. the mechanical cow opts to play some dirty tricks on bessie, pouring a jar of vanishing cream it produced onto the hay bessie is eating. and, thanks to the law of cartoon physics, the milk bottles she hands porky disappear by the minute. though the effect of the bottles disappearing may not seem like much today, for 1938 the ink and paint department did a wonderful job of demonstrating the illusion that the bottles suddenly disappeared.

with the rest of the hay now gone thanks to a hefty glob of vanishing cream, porky and bessie engage in a wild goose (cow?) chase to find more hay. the mechanical cow gobbles up every square inch of hay in sight--at one point, bessie heaves a dubious shrug to the audience. i love how they made her hooves look like hands, but still remain identifiable hooves. the scramble animation she does as she dashes out of frame (with porky clinging to her like a horse) is wonderfully done as well.

both porky and bessie and the creamlined cow exit the barn, chasing each other around the farm. the mechanical cow physically turns into a vacuum cleaner, threatening to suck up the last remaining pile of hay. in a gag that’s reminiscent of the harman-ising days (is it the inclusion of the outhouse?), the cow-turned-vacuum rushes into a shed filled to the brim with hay. the audience merely watches the shed itself shrink in size as the cow gobbles up all of the hay, the final result a puny little outhouse. 

at last, the enemies reach a face-off. the last pile of hay--or, as porky puts it in his punny little way, “eh-thee-the-thee-that’s the last straw.” in a relatively tashlin-esque maneuver, clampett makes some fast cuts to heighten the suspense of the action. cut between porky and bessie to the mechanical cow to the pile of straw (facetiously labeled “MILK WEED”). the cuts grow quicker and quicker, the music crescendo-ing... 

until BLAM! in a loose parallel to the finale of rover’s rival, everything explodes at once. nuts and bolts rain in the sky, as do neat little bundles of hay. however, clampett doesn’t allow the audience to rest just yet--with bessie nowhere in sight, the mechanical cow continues to charge forth, seeking refuge in a hay to release a humongous pile of milk bottles. so high, in fact, that the shed (and cow) are elevated several feet into the air. porky’s a goner.

porky’s father, who had been absent for the past few minutes, reappears to declare the tin-can cow a winner, much to porky’s visible dissatisfaction.

yet it’s not a clampett cartoon without a twist! bessie pokes her head out of the mechanical cow’s mouth, mooing the ever popular catchphrase from the ken murray show: “mmmmmmwooooooooooah, yeeeeaaaaaah!” porky gives a celebratory “oh, boy!” as we iris out--the goose and duck from earlier poke their heads into the scene just before the iris fully closes.

this is an early porky cartoon that’s just plain fun. bobe cannon’s animation of porky serves as one of the many highlights, from porky getting aggravated with his phonograph to his excited pep talk towards bessie. corny as the opening number is, it’s a lot of fun at the same time--the intensity in increasing chaos is a prevalent theme to clampett’s cartoons. just look at the climax/ending of baby bottleneck!

i don’t have many complaints towards this cartoon, if any at all. it’s not my favorite porky entry, sure, but it’s most certainly an enjoyable watch and one of his better cartoons of the ‘30s. the visual puns aren’t nearly as hamfisted as ben hardaway’s (as we’ll soon discover), making them more enjoyable than some of the jokes present in, say, daffy duck & egghead. regardless, there are a lot of unique gags, fun animation, and amusing dialogue to constitute a watch.

the cartoon is up on HBOmax, but you can also watch it here!

[lilsherlockian1975]

The Nose Knows

A little soulmates AU, mostly fluff. Here’s part one. This is NOT beta’d, sorry for any mistakes. Huge thanks to @mel-loves-all for helping out with editing the images since I’m an ignorant goose penis when it comes to all that business. Blame me for the quality of the pics... it’s what I picked out for her. ~LiL~

-o-o-o-o-

He catches it on a breeze. It hits him like a physical blow and he instantly knows what he’s smelling, if not... who.

He and his cousin Daven are sitting on one of the few available benches on the Quad. Addam, his best friend since childhood, is talking about some girl he’d met at a sorority mixer the night before but as soon as the scent drifts his way, Jaime pretty much tunes out the sordid tale of sloppy, near-anonymous sex. It’s a gorgeous Spring day, not a cloud in the sky and no hint of rain for the first time in at least two weeks. This fact alone has driven most of the student population out of doors, making it almost impossible for him to quickly assign the scent to its owner.

Jaime is instantly ill at ease, which is unfortunate as moments ago he’d felt entirely in his element. He and his twin sister had celebrated their twenty-second name day the weekend before and prior to the scent, he’d been feeling at the very top of his game. Now he’s... confused and excited and anxious all at once.

Less than two months and he will be finished with this gods’ forsaken town and its massive university. He’s already been accepted at Crakehall School of Art & Design for his post-grad, which is, incidentally, where he originally had planned to study. His father’d had different ideas, forcing Jaime into the business programme at KLU. Thankfully, he had managed to slip a minor in Architecture into his degree by selling Tywin a load of shit about wanting to ‘propel Castlery Corp. into the modern era’. The minor had added a full year to Jaime’s studies and without a major in his chosen field, he will have to take supplementary classes at CSAD but he’s certain it will be worth it in the end.

None of that matters now. Tywin Lannister had died of a massive stroke seven months ago. Jaime supposes he should feel worse about that; should feel some kind of loss or sadness, and maybe he does, though not for the reasons most sons would for the death of a parent. But the old man was never a real father. He’d been indifferent toward Tyrion, dismissive toward Cersei - though he could occasionally be somewhat warmer to his only female child - and constantly demanding that Jaime ‘live up to the Lannister name’. Jaime can feel sympathy for their mother, of course, she did love the old bastard, but neither he nor his sister are overly damaged by the old man’s death. Oddly enough, their father’s death seems to be affecting his little brother the most.

The scent assails him again and this time he stands, walking towards it, leaving Addam sputtering objections and calling him names. Jaime doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about is the originator of that smell.

He passes small groups of fellow students, all equally excited about the respite from the spring rains. The Quad is packed, of course, so it’s no easy task. Not to mention that he probably looks like some kind of weirdo, walking around, nose first and… sniffing. But he’s being driven by something entirely out of his control. 

Though he’s never really given much thought to the idea of soulmates, he knows they exist - his Uncle Gerion and Aunt Briony are soulmates, for instance, but it’s rarely talked about within the family, almost as if it is some dirty secret. Actually, for some unknown reason, talking about soulmates seems to be taboo in ‘polite society’. Uncle Gerion - his favourite uncle -  however, is quite outspoken against Lannister Family tradition and societal norms. The phenomenon, as far as he knows, is very rare these days and Jaime has never once even considered the possibility for himself. 

Now… Now there's no doubt. He can smell her - them? - whoever! Jaime’s never been attracted to men, but somehow he knows that if the gods have seen it fit to match him with a man… so be it! 

Shaking himself, he chuckles as he moves to another group of students. It won’t be a man, he thinks. Surely the gods would have given him some kind of inclination towards his own sex if… Suddenly, he’s engulfed with the scent. They’re close, they must be!  He turns, following his nose like a damn toucan. 

The crowd thins a bit; it’s the top of the hour and people are rushing off to class. Jaime’s eyes and, yes, his nose, zero in on his target. Shit! It is a dude! He’s taller than Jaime by maybe an inch or so with short, straw-like blond hair, broad shoulders and… He’s just about to resign himself to a future that he’d never even considered (okay, so he’s maybe had the odd thought here and there about other guys - everyone has, right?! Right?) when they turn around and…  

“You’re a girl,” he says without thinking. 

She (oh, thank the gods she’s a she!) narrows her eyes, straightens her spine and glares. “Yes, I am. And you’re not very original, I’m afraid,” she says coldly before stalking past him. 

What?! No! She’s… she’s supposed to know. She’s supposed to smell him too. What in the seven hells is going on?! “Wait!” Jaime calls out but she doesn’t stop. He can’t give up, he just can’t. Sprinting to catch up, he reaches out for her, wanting to stop her, to talk to her. He doesn’t make it that far, though. Just before he touches her arm, she jerks back - maybe she saw him in her peripheral vision, maybe it’s some strange side effect of their connection, he doesn’t know - but when he sees the look in her unbelievably blue eyes, he’s the one flinching away. 

“I don’t know who you think you are,” she practically growls, “but you can’t just go around insulting people, chasing after them then touching them as if it’s your right!”

“But it is,” he replies lamely because... how doesn’t she know?

Her responding laugh is mocking and he can’t deny that it hurts him in a way he never imagined being hurt. Shaking her head, she sneers as she looks him up and down. “Guys like you are all the same…”

There are no guys like me, he thinks but luckily, this time he holds his tongue.

“I know I’m an easy target - hard to miss, low hanging fruit and whatnot - I’m just not in the mood for this nonsense today.”

Jaime knows he should give up, regroup and try again later, but patience has never been his strong suit. “I wasn’t… It wasn’t an insult. I was…” ‘Surprised’ sounds insulting and really, how does she still not know? His mind scrambles for a word to properly describe his condition. Finally, he settles on, “Confused?” though it unintentionally comes out as a question.

This seems to only further enrage the girl. She takes a step back, draws a deep breath and, once again, shakes her head. “Find someone else to help you figure out your sexuality!”

Okay, there’s a story there, Jaime’s sure of it but he doesn’t have time to ask. “No-no, you’re misunderstanding me. I know I’m not gay.” Although the fact that he considered it for thirty seconds or so is something he’ll deal with later! “I’m saying that…”

“I really don’t care what you’re saying.” Again, her eyes travel over him and Jaime has never felt so judged in his entire life. “It’s nothing new, it’s nothing I’ve not heard before. Do you really think you’re the first prick to want to screw with me? I’m guessing it’s another bet. Who put you up to this? Red? Bushy? If it was Hyle, I swear to the Seven...”

“None of them! I don’t even know who you’re talking about!” When he thinks about her words, an intense feeling of protectiveness overcomes him. “What bet? What did they do?” 

Her pale, freckle-covered cheeks turn an interesting shade of pink as she hitches her messenger bag higher on her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “Nothing. Never mind. Just… Just leave me alone. Please.” The last word comes out softly, pleadingly and it just about breaks Jaime’s heart. Turning, she starts to go.

“I’m not a creep!” he calls out, managing to stop her escape. Looking around, he notices that, miraculously, the Quad has pretty much cleared out. If their fellow students hadn’t been in such a rush to return to class he and the angry girl would have surely drawn a crowd. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself before continuing, “And I’m not a prick. I am sort of an arsehole, but not - I think, not like those guys you mentioned. Whatever they did... hurt you enough to make you make that face…”

She whips around. “What about my face?” 

With a sigh, he says, “It looks sad. Too sad. It’s not supposed to.” And what does that even mean? he wonders as the words leave his mouth.

She’s surprised for a split second, then all emotion seems to drain from her features. “I don’t know why you’re doing this but please just… leave me alone.”

So he does. For now.

-o-o-o-o-

There is a very good reason that Brienne doesn’t know ‘who’ Jaime is. This is just the first part, I’m working on the next bit. Please let me know what you think. Thanks ~Lil~

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

The Backstage Pass (Out)

Hey everyone... this is still not an update of Do You Wanna Dance? but another pathetic attempt of me to provide you with PJ-related reading material... Sssooo, there was this post of @gardenofstoney... and I’ve always taken tags verry seriously. I felt addressed since the situation she described sounded absolutely like a perfect fanfic material so I ended up playing with the idea. One thing led to another and a Stone Gossard one-shot happened, which I hereby share with you (with her and @mookiebaelock’s consent). Disclaimer: may contain traces of Jeff Ament!

Ps. I solemnly swear I get Judy out of the shower soon.

„Are you sure you don’t want to move towards the side of the stage? These Vedder-fanatics seem pretty dangerous, I’m not sure I want to be here when they go wild…” Mel asked fidgeting with the setups of her professional camera.

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m fine here…” Maggie answered leaning her forehead against her arms that were resting on the barrier. She was dog-tired; she and her best friend, Mel were cueing the whole day to get there at the show of their favorite band, Pearl Jam. Actually, Pearl Jam was their second favorite band but it was the rock group that brought them together. They saw each other’s introduction in the “Pen Pal Wanted” column of Footsteps, the band’s fanzine and the rest was history... And finally, they were there, standing at their precious front row places, waiting for the show to begin…

They agreed on standing in front of the center of the stage since they both had different preferences… Mel was dying to make close shots of her bassist crush (and maybe steal a few smiles and glances from him), while Maggie was interested in the other side of the stage… to be more accurate, in the person who regularly ruled it. Stone Gossard. The absent-minded, aloof alien who played the rhythm guitar parts and who, unfortunately, wasn’t the most responsive member of the band. He was said to be a sarcastic, hilarious and nice guy but at shows he just… didn’t give a shit about the crowd. He was usually absorbed in the songs, following the rhythm with his entire body, marching to the beat or just bobbing his head… but that was all. No interaction, no communication, just the chords. If Maggie had been alone there, she would have picked his side and stayed there as if she had been pinned to the ground… but Mel wanted to stand near Jeff so they made a compromise. Of course, Mel tried every kind of dirty trick to lure her closer to Mike’s and Jeff’s territory and Maggie begged desperately with her irresistible sad puppy face to move in the other direction, after all, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad… and Jeff would bounce around, anyways, she argued. But neither of them could convince the other one so they were stuck in front of the place of Eddie Vedder and they knew they would have to fight hard to be able to keep their position.

“You will defend me, I know.” Maggie cuddled to her friend, letting herself be pulled in a bear hug. She was short and slim, the top of her head barely reached the level of the tall Mel’s chin, that’s why they often joked about themselves being two dogs coming from different species but being allies and best friends forever.

“I’ll defend you just… not now, oh my god, ohmygod, they’re here, that’s him!!!” Mel suddenly let her go frantically taking one picture after another of her main target.

“Okay, I can’t win against Jeff Ament…” Maggie shook her head with a forgiving smile only to discover the object of her admiration appearing on the other side of the stage, walking around with a deadpan on his face. She couldn’t help chuckling when she noticed he was wearing a black socks-dress shoes combo... with light brown shorts. She’d already got used to these weird testimonies of his terrible fashion sense but he always managed to surprise her with a newer unacceptable outfit.

When the singer finally showed up too, the crowd moved forward, pressing the girls against the barrier… and from that moment on, they only had some rest during the slower songs. Not that they wanted to complain, they were singing along the lyrics, screaming, laughing, crying or just squeezing each other’s hand making sure they were not dreaming, they were finally together, having the time of their life, really living their favorite songs. Mel was overly contented with seeing the bass player’s manly moves in the tight tank top he was wearing and the passionate solos and dazed-off moments of Mike pleased both of them too, even if they were within the spitting range of Ed. But as time went by, they both started feeling the depressing thought that this would be over soon, even if they tried to fight against it by bouncing and screaming twice as intensely as before…

When Stone started playing the opening chords of State of Love and Trust, the crowd went completely nuts and Maggie had to tighten her grip not to be drifted… the pressure behind her eased for a second but at once, she felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and lost the touch with the outside world…

***

Mhmmmm… what are these bright lights? I must have died and got in that shining corridor about which people who experienced clinical death always tell…

“Jesus, I go blind…” I mumble… or am I just hearing my own thoughts? Shit, this splitting headache, I’m definitely alive, I must have fallen asleep after taking in my migraine pill.

“Do you prefer low light?” a nasal male voice asks and as I look around, I find myself lying on a couch but I’m not in my own apartment, I don’t know this place. Oh, so I’m in a dream, nice, let’s see where it’s going…

“Yes, please!” I groan covering my eyes.

“Clouds roll by… sorry, bad joke, here, is it better his way?”

I take away my hand from my eyes and let them adjust to the pleasant half-light provided probably by a standing lamp somewhere out of my sight. When did I learn how to change the setting of my dreams? Cool… The owner of the voice takes place opposite me only to make me realize, I’m in a Stone dream, moreover, this time it’s a new one.

“Are you okay?” he’s checking me with the inquiring but still expressionless stare of a toad.

“More or less…” I mumble helplessly. Interesting, I’ve never had such a vivid dream about him, it’s somehow different, like I was in charge, I’ve never felt like this before while dreaming… Familiar melodies provide the musical accompaniment, I have to listen for a few bars until I recognize Yellow Ledbetter… but he’s here… and the music comes from…?

“Are we… at a show?” I ask suspiciously, I’m afraid that despite the realistic surrounding, it’ll turn into an incoherent screenplay written by my subconscious.

“Yes, we are…”

“But how come you’re not playing? You should be on the stage with the others…”

“I don’t feel like playing… I mean in that song, I have basically not much to do, I strum the same chords as Mike, it’s boring. At sound checks, sometimes I beg until I can play the drum parts, I’m a desperate drummer but I love it. But the rhythm guitar part is just… nah. Plus, I had to pee, anyways.”

“Fair enough.” I snicker. He’s such an awkward dork, even in my dreams. “Well, that happens if a musician is too busy with drinking beer at gigs instead of playing”.

“Excuse me?” he startles offended. That’s my favorite thing in dreaming, I can do and say what I’d never dare in real life.

“Do you think we don’t notice when you’re just fudging, walking around with the guitar and use the change of amplifier setups as an excuse to take a few sip of your booze? That doesn’t really count as musical contribution.”

“Ugh, busted. I try not to drink before the show though. Right as soon as I get onstage I start drinking. But come on, I never belch out of key, what’s this if not musical humility?”

I snort shaking my head and keep grinning from ear to ear. If he’s such a hilariously funny guy in my fantasy, how adorable he can be in the reality… I know he used to be an annoying, sarcastic little shit but when PJ got really successful, he mellowed down and made himself to the main target of his irony… The mixture of this down-to-earth humbleness and calm confidence was one of the main reasons why he became my favorite member in the band; in the band that only consists of great, relatable people, by the way.

Maybe I should use the occasion to have a chitchat with him, I could ask him questions about stuff I’ve always wanted to know… even if the answers are only the products of my mind…

“Do you see the world in yellow?”

Okay, maybe that’s not the best start but the colored lenses of his spectacles somehow distracted me and it just slipped out. He reacts with that short, amused eyebrow twitch I love… good job, Maggie.

“It’s a good question! It’s funny, nobody asked that before… but to answer it, I do, it’s like being trapped in that moment of sunset when everything is glowing in that golden light… but to be less poetic, it makes everyone look as if they were Lego figures, they have yellow head, y’know…”

The mentioning of my favorite toy brings back old memories about the times when I was building my own town with eclectic houses that served as the scene of the made-up action stories crafted by my cousin and me.

“I you were a Lego figure, you’d be a bad boy.” I remark with a timid smile and try to ignore the fact that my cheeks are in flames.

“Only if I were a Lego figure? That’s offensive. I was the member of the gang Newton Street Boys. We were the most dangerous guys on whole Capitol Hill, we terrorized the district by taking protection rackets from kindergarten pupils. They were scared to death when we showed up riding our bikes, I liked the banana-seat ones with the high handlebars - maybe a card in the wheel could have been part of it.” he chuckles playfully. “Anyway, why a bad boy?”

“It’s because of the scruff.” I giggle and reach out to pinch his neck but he leans away.

“Please don’t touch me.” he grunts.

Hey, brain, we had an agreement: if I behave decently enough in real life, you won’t throw any obstacles in the way of my naughty tendencies at nights. So if I want to touch Stone’s perfect neck, I’m gonna to do it. Period.

“I said no!!!” he repeats this time angrier when my fingers approach his skin again. What the hell???

“Sorry. I… I just wanted to say that there were those bearded figures… and you could get them mostly from the pirate or the police station series.”

“You mean they had an attachable Lego beard?” he inquires confused and excited at the same time; I’m sure he’s already forgotten the embarrassing intermezzo and is now desperately trying to recall the look of the little yellow dudes.

“Haha, no, it was just painted on their face. There was the moustache, the regular beard and the scruff that basically meant black dots on their face. And the scruffy guys always played the role of the bad boys in my stories. You know, the bank robber, the fleeing prisoner…”

“… the fucked-up musician… we should definitely have a Lego party once!”

“We should…” I repeat and we’re smiling silently at each other for a few seconds… I clear my throat and swallow hard since my mouth got completely dry, shit, it must be that damn gum-shield I have to wear at nights to prevent myself from gnashing.

“You want some water?” he asks walking to a fridge standing at the door.

“Fuck, yes, I’m dying of thirst.” I moan and I mean it.

“Here.” he hands a small bottle to me while he opens a beer can. I rather don’t make any remarks, the show is over, after all… But now that I think into it, maybe the other band members will show up too… I can’t wait!

I lower my head and press the ice cold bottle against my forehead. It feels incredibly good, that blinding pain is still pulsing in my head. As I direct my gaze onto the ground, I can’t help laughing again when I spot his dress shoes and the black socks tucked into them. The hem rolled down around his left ankle making the socks look like they were unmatched.

However thirsty I am, I can only take small sips since I’m already snorting at the next part of this weird vision.

“Anyway… before the others would arrive, there’s one thing we have to discuss.” I begin when I finally manage to force my facial muscles into a serious expression.

“Something that stays between us? Like a dirty little secret?” his face lights up with a boyish smile.

“Kind of, if your socks are dirty…” I roll my eyes. “It’s the footwear.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Of course yours, mine is normal. Matching boots, a totally adequate choice for a rock concert. But yours is just… criminal.”

“Don’t be rude with my shoes, they look good and they are comfy as fuck!” he circles with his feet comically.

“They do but man, look in that mirror!” I point at his reflection in the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. “You look like the mixture of an elementary school boy and a bachelor dressed by his mother. Shorts with dress shoes? How? Why? It’s an obvious no-no!” I scream.

“I have only these ones, sneakers and flip flops with me, which doesn’t leave much variation.” he shrugs briefly.

“You should have chosen the sneakers… as for the “f” word, I’m not even willing to pronounce it.”

“I always wore hiking boots in the earlier times, they were the most comfortable choice but they weren’t compatible with the heat on stage. And then, I got introduced in the magical world of orthopedic sandals but the band somehow vetoed them, I don’t really understand why... I was only allowed to wear them between shows and at soundchecks but at gigs, I had to wear the boots… Once, before a show, maybe in Atlanta, I can’t remember exactly, the sole of my boot separated so I could only wear my sandals… the guys freaked out about my velvet shorts-sweatpants-white socks-sandals outfit and obliged me to wear Jeff’s shoes during the show.” he recalls but I can barely listen to him, his hand talk and the fidgeting alien fingers are definitely more appealing than the image of Birkenstocks worn with socks.

As my eyes are glued to him, I involuntarily start playing with my hair but my fingers land in something sticky. I check them and glance at him helplessly, as if he could help me find out why blood is the next nonsense feature in this scene.

“Fuck, why didn’t you tell me earlier that you’re bleeding?” he shouts and rushes to the fridge.

“Because I didn’t know…” I mutter and can’t form further coherent sentences since he steps back to me with an ice bag and presses it to the back of my head… and he keeps standing opposite me with his arms laced around my neck. I’m desperately trying to look at the ceiling, the ground and the four walls at the same time, anywhere but him…

“This is too embarrassing, I want this to finally end… this is terrible.” I whisper in pain, fixing my gaze on the ugly shoes and working on calming down my hyperventilation with all my nerves.

“Hey, I just wanted to help! Just for the record, we don’t often let passed-out fans in the backstage, you were in bad shape and…”

“No, I mean, thanks and all but this dream… it’s going nowhere, it was funny but you entering into my personal space creates a tension that needs resolution, like a hug or a kiss or anything, this makes just no sense!” I blurt out, basically arguing with myself, the director of the movie.

“What? That doctor could finally arrive, you must have a concussion!” he gently tries to push me back onto to the couch but I shake his hands off me.

“What doctor... wait… the pain… the blood… is this… real?” I flail still hoping he doesn’t exist and suddenly disappears or turns into my real crush or Edge from U2 or whatever.

“You got hit with by a half-empty beer can and you passed out so the security personnel fished you out of the crowd. Since I came back anyway, I suggested that they should lay you down here until they get a doctor. You got a backstage pass by passing out. A backstage pass out.” he tries to ease he situation with a pun but I’m not really in the mood.

“No… the scruff… the shoes… the ki… I can’t believe I said all this bullshit, this is worse than a nightmare…” I bury my face into my palms completely mortified and stumble back towards the couch dizzily. Suddenly, I hear a familiar voice… Mel!!!

***

“I’m not going to repeat this again, my best friend is in that room so if you won’t let me in immediately, I’m going to fuckin’ sue you!!!” Mel pointed with her index finger outraged at the huge guy standing in front of the door of the dressing room. Actually, instead of suing, she wanted to headbutt him in the chest but she knew it would feel like running into a concrete wall. She’d already been arguing with him for like fifteen minutes but the guy was just standing there with folded arms, stoically bearing the threats and the various spells casted on him by the furious girl.

“Hey, Ernie, I think you can let her in, her friend has just woken up, it’d be better if she’s with her when the doctor arrives…” a top of a head with ruffled hair peeked out of the door. The security guard obeyed and silently stepped aside.

“Maggie!!!” Mel shouted and tossed the young man in the door away to get a free way to her friend. “I was so worried about you!!!” she captured her into a rib-breaking hug.

“I’m… I’m okay… Stone took care of me…” Maggie mumbled against Mel’s chest trying to point at the guitarist under her friend’s arm.

“Stone???” Mel screamed making both of them turn around without breaking the hug.

“Yup.” the guitarist waved clumsily with one hand at her, digging his other hand deeply in his pocket.

Maggie managed to tiptoe enough to rest her head on her friend’s shoulder, which allowed her to saw the door opening… only to recognize the other members of the band arriving back from the stage. The small group was guided by Jeff who stopped at the door exchanging a surprised look with the embarrassed guitarist standing in the room.

Maggie started silently shaking of laughter because she could already imagine what’d happen next…

“Uhm… Mel… I’m choking… please let me go…” she acted patting her friend’s back a few times. “I think you should turn back… slowly…” she recommended biting her lips to hide her amusement when she pulled away to see the girl’s reaction.

“Why… what…?” Mel looked back over her shoulder and… due to the bassist’s excellent reflexes, she didn’t land on the ground but in his arms. Jeff stared shocked alternately at the unconscious girl and the other ones, begging for help with his eyes.

“Jesus, not again… “Stone sighed facepalming.” She’s yours, I’m out.”

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

20.

This is all so weird to me, I didn’t think I would be getting married, not in my lifetime. I didn’t think of it because I have been so unhappy and I never saw any other female as worthy of this title, I mean for a woman to take my name, and to have half of what I have, no way would I allow that in a life time so I have been keeping away from such a word, marriage was not the thing I wanted. As soon as I knew Robyn was pregnant, I wanted to make an honest woman out of her and I just jumped on it, Robyn free ran with the whole thing. She just decided to get it over with, now I will be a married man and it feels weird to think of. It makes me giggle to be honest, I feel ever so shy about it all “can I come in!?” Jahleel shouted from outside the bedroom, Robyn and I was banned from seeing each other last night because they wanted it to be like the real thing so I miss her, it was funny because I did keep on going to the room but Mel was kicking me back out “come in!” I shouted, also they took Royalty away from me too, so she is with them “I have arrived with your suit sir, I am your best man” laughing at Jahleel “best man huh” he placed the suit bag on the bed “so I picked up a Gucci suit for you, and did you notice something? I never asked you for your size?” he is right he didn’t “because your wife knows your size” raising an eyebrow “after all these years? She does?” he nodded his head “she was so confident in it too so I was like ok boo, I will go with what you said” watching him unzip the bag “wow, Robyn really knows me. How are my leading ladies? They good? I feel like an animal locked up in this room” Jahleel laughed “they are good, did you enjoy breakfast? Made that with my very own hands, but they are happy. Robyn did feel sick in the morning, she is nervous but happy. Royalty is stuck to her hip, but they are good” nodding my head “cool, you think those pants will fit this long dick?” Jahleel snorted laughing “don’t worry, that short dick will fit in these pants” Jahleel sniggered “so uhm, shall I dress you” he winked at me “that is rape, stop forcing yourself on me” Jahleel sighed out “whatever, I am tired. We have been fixing the whole room for you guys, I mean there is only a few of us but we wanted it to be cute” I chuckled “I appreciate it, who paid for this? I swear I haven’t paid for anything; I mean I got Robyn another ring too” I just remembered that I ain’t paid for anything “Fenty did” he winked at me “if we had more time we would have made you a Fenty suit, Robyn was saying it but not enough time, have you model it for us too” look at them using me “what a shame” smiling at the suit he is setting out.

I made Jahleel wait for me outside the room, while I had a shit, washed my face with Fenty skin because Robyn text me threatening me, that was all she said, wash face with Fenty got it. But I am ready now, placing my shades on moving to the side, fastening the suit jacket button. I look good, not going to lie, since being off drugs and just smoking weed sometimes, my skin has improved so much. Licking my bottom lip feeling myself, I know Robyn pussy going to be wet when she sees me, period. Also the Mexican barber didn’t fuck up my hair he did well, opening the bathroom door “I didn’t think much to the loafers but for you, I will wear them” stepping into the room “about time, I swear you are nasty” he said “oh wow, Royalty. You look so beautiful, oh my god” taking my shades off, my daughter looks perfect “I look nice” she twirled around “beautiful, you are amazing. Who dressed you? And your hair? Is it your day?” Royalty giggled “Mel did my hair for me, and only a little bit of makeup, look at my eyes” she closed her eyes “amazing!” I spat, she looks so beautiful” Jahleel started fussing with my jacket “how are you all” Dennis said opening the door “I came to take pictures” smiling at him “Rihanna Fenty knows her man, wow. This is perfect ok, you are done. I need to go and see to Robyn” Jahleel said, I did keep him here long enough.

I feel so happy, my confidence is sky high right now “look at that, my ankles are out today. You know what that means Dennis? I don’t care what a nigga says” Dennis laughed out, crouching down “Royalty look at your dad for me” putting my shades back on, Royalty looked at me smiling “you’re still stupid” she said to me, I poked my lips out “I don’t want to ruin my lip gloss sorry” rolling my eyes at her, women “stand up for me Chris, just stood there. And fix your cufflinks for me, your cheekbones are the best” standing up, fixing my suit sighing out “now you know I got to video you after this, I am working hard here!” he spat, holding my arm out as I touched my cufflinks while looking down “yes, this is perfect. I honestly don’t see why you’re not a model, the cheekbones alone are perfect. So now I just need you to say a few words” Robyn and this video thing, I am only doing it for her. I am just so excited, and I feel good about me. To see myself in the mirror and see this different man, to see such happiness in my eyes is honestly the blessing I needed in my life “how you feeling Chris? In like an hour time you will be married?” Dennis asked “nervous, I am marrying Rihanna. The dream every man has, I am just living it. I got my best lady with me, she is going to be walking with me down the aisle, I uhm. I have made a lot of stupid decisions but this, this is the moment and I don’t regret it. Are you happy for daddy?” I asked Royalty “yes, my dad is getting married and I am super happy” I cooed out “I think right now I am just on cloud nine but when Robyn comes into eye-view you may see tears or I may keep it like a thug and hold it in. I have also got Robyn a ring fit for a queen, she got two rings I don’t know. Why not but come” grabbing the box from my pocket, opening the box “I know shawty loves emerald, so I got her an eighteen carat emerald diamond ring. There is a hole in my money right now but look at this shit, ain’t nobody else going to be flexing this hard, look at this. My eyes can’t take” showing it off to the camera “I know my baby likes Emerald, so I had to go all out and do this for her” I am impressed with the ring I bought her.

Royalty and I are waiting in the bedroom, I have to wait until they are ready for me to go down “you’re holding that lip gloss a little close to you” she has not let it go at all “it’s special, mom was asking when I am coming back and I said never” Royalty giggled “awww baby, you need to go back you know. I am coming back with you to Cali so don’t worry about it, you and I going back together” wrapping my arm around her “let’s take a selfie dad, I won’t post it. Promise” not sure if to trust her because she ended up on the blogs for mine and Rihanna’ picture, they are speculating and then also she followed Rihanna on IG but she is a kid, they really can’t say much about it “ok go on, I will let you do it because you’re better then me” watching her preparing her phone, Royalty started popping her lips in the camera “what you like” I said, she is feeling herself “actually, I have longer arms let me do it” taking her phone from her, shuffling closer to Royalty “ready” holding her phone out, she kissed my cheek and I took the picture “aww baby, that is so cute. I love you so much ok?” pressing a kiss on her forehead “are you happy that you are here?” I asked passing her phone back “super happy, I get to see you happy” I love that my daughter is here with me to be honest.

I am growing impatient “sorry! There was a little delay, Robyn and her bump but all is well, give it two minutes and come down ok?” Tina busted into the room scaring me half to the death on top of that “ok cool, is she ok though? I heard she felt sick” she must be very nervous “that what ruined the dress, but we worked it out. She is ok” Tina left the room “this is it Royalty, I will leave this room a single man. I will going back to California married baby, I will have a wife, you will have a secret step mom. I am so happy; do I look good?” I asked, “I like it!” Royalty put her thumb up “Rihanna will love it dad” I cooed out, I do feel sad that I don’t have any one here that is my own family but they wouldn’t be good for this moment, I would feel like they would hold it against me with some shit. My family will find out at the same time as everyone else and they may not like it but oh fucking well “come on then” putting my shades on, holding my hand out “my lady is walking me” I said smiling, she can walk along side me down this aisle they have made, I don’t know what they done but we shall see. I chuckled at Royalty grabbing her dress to walk down the steps “I can’t believe that you’re my daughter sometimes, someone so delicate and beautiful. I am in love with you” walking down the steps ever so slowly.

I think I need to follow this path of flowers they laid out clearly, opening the dining door “oh wow, this looks pretty baby” thy have laid out the table with the white rose centrepieces, it looks a little like a fairy-tale and they have done their best, I am impressed “it’s pretty dad” making our way to the open doors, I know with the yard in this Mexico place you can do a lot with, they did for the gender reveal. Walking outside the, I gasped smiling “oh wow” they really changed it to a magical setting, with twinkling fairy lights hanging from where stood the registrar “awww look at the babies!” Jahleel shouted clapping, I chuckled following the path that led us closer. It is so cute with what they done, both Tina and Jahleel stood up “you both are the cutest” Tina complimented us “thank you” I said, I am feeling the nerves now “don’t tell me you was sick?” Tina asked “not exactly, I feel it now so this is not good” letting Royalty’ hand go “hi” shaking the registrar’ hand “hello” he said, this is not good I am nervous “I can see the fear on your face now from these picture” Dennis said, he is right he will be getting that now “I am nervous, I just want to see her now. I been feeling all cocky and confident but now I am feeling it, I can do this” I said breathing out “nigga you ain’t got nowhere else to go, also I will chase you with the camera, I am Dennis’ side bitch in this” Jahleel said” I laughed at him, he is funny “I am Rihanna flower girl too dad, I am so important” I didn’t know that “ain’t you lucky” she is very lucky “she is super excited to see you, I think she knows it’s a big step to take but the nerves are kicking her ass. Ain’t no looking back now” Tina is right “I love her so much” I said, I really do.

I am so nervous now, I don’t know why I have but I think it’s because it’s happening, never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be marrying Rihanna, the love of my life. I just can’t believe it, I don’t think I would have ever married anyone, I probably would be dead because of drugs, I was taking too much of it. I mean even now I am fighting my demons, but I have Robyn to help me through, I have so much going on in my mind that at times I want to turn to drugs but then I see Robyn, she calms me. I am just so happy, I think I am going to cry because I will have a reason to be around, to actually care. Someone actually cares for me; someone cares that I am around and doesn’t feel annoyed at my existence and thinks of me as a money bag. Smiling at my daughter being the flower girl, I am just so blessed. She is a little rebel, she is throwing the flowers with such sass “all done!” sha spat, I laughed looking ahead of me again. I am so nervous to see Robyn, I am glad I got shades on because then I can cry behind these. My ears perked up as I heard my song play “what the hell” I said turning around laughing “Robyn requested it” Jahleel said laughing, I know her ass didn’t want this song out of everything. Shaking my head laughing, I can’t wait to see her but so nervous, bopping my head to Forever “awww, oh my god” Tina said, she is here. Closing my eyes breathing out, I can do this. Slowly looking behind me “oh god” I said as my voice broke seeing Robyn walking with Mel.

[like-twilight]

The Last of Us 2 thoughts eyyy longgg and spoilers

This is my opinion before hearing anybody else’s opinion about it.

I only want to discuss the story as it is the only thing I can really speak of since I didn’t play it for myself. All I can say is I wish I could’ve and I’ll always regret not being able to because I really wish that could’ve been my experience as it was with the first game that I could play myself. It’s also probably noteworthy that the first game was the first video game I’ve played in my life so I’m probably biased.

So I’ll go all over the place because why not.

The false advertisement is extremely scummy and I don’t really know what to do with it, I blame it all on the No Spoilers Culture we currently have going. I don’t think anybody would’ve watched any of the promotional stuff a better marketing team could’ve put together and said “ah you can’t see old Joel in action, I bet he dies early in the game, I won’t fucking play this”. There was plenty of buzz around the game and there was no reason whatsoever to falsely market it. That part’s bullshit and I condemn the company for this.

From the story side though, Joel dying was honestly not that huge of a surprise or shock to me. TLOU is a game that has you watch a kid die in the first section of it then does more than enough to establish itself as a game without taboos. Now whether that’s something you like or not is not important, what cannot be said about the game is that it didn’t establish itself as a game that would do this.

I also think arguments like “Joel wouldn’t go out like a bitch” are silly. The beginning told me Joel, the badass and smart survivor he is, was very quick to adjust back to a small town life with a now pretty much surrogate daughter. I’m not saying that excuses the unceremonious death but to me Joel is not a gun-blazing badass hero, not even an anti-hero. He’s just a dude. He got overpowered and then he died.

See this is where the game could never win. If you leave Joel alive and he’s in the story then it’s just a repetition of the first game. If you leave him alive but he’s not in the game much then you underutilise him and people miss him. Also if you leave him alive then people will just say you’re a little bitch because it’s fanservice that Joel is technically invincible because he’s the face of the game. But if he dies, people riot. The creators couldn’t win either way and so I’m glad they made up their mind and stuck to it. It’s also very useful to get people talking.

Before I tie that into the rest of the story, I also have to mention that one of the few things I heard about the game was the expression “torture porn” and maybe I’m just desansitised but I didn’t feel like it was that overwhelming or unjustified. I didn’t watch too much of the promotional material but I saw what I think was the gameplay reveal where the devs said in this game enemies would call each other by name when you kill someone or they find someone dead. And I think that’s a neat detail but I think it also has a lot to do with what the game is... about.

That the hundreds of faceless people you slaughter during the game all have a video game or more worth of story behind them. They are people with their own twenty plus years of survival in a world gone to hell whose story ends the way Joel’s did. By meeting a person who just... wins the fight over them.

So that the deaths are really personal and intimate in that way feels justified. You also have this crazy technology that allows them to animate people very realistically. This is the last big game for the PS4 and they really just brought the technology to its limits, I feel. For them to then say “oh a sledgehammer to the face doesn’t look that bad” or “we just won’t add more types of weapons and have one type of death animation just cause we don’t want to overdo it” is just. It’s not gonna happen.

I never felt like those were glorified, I think they all added to that feeling that bubbled to the surface towards the end of Ellie’s first stretch of the story where I just couldn’t stop shaking my head, going Ellie... Ellie, what are you doing, look at yourself... look at what you’re doing. So to me that wasn’t really an issue.

I can imagine some people, maybe even most people would play the first stretch of the game in revenge mode. You know, let’s get this bitch. But in the same time, I also couldn’t really deny that Abby was like... kinda right to want revenge. I’m not saying I’m glad she killed Joel I’m just saying she had a reason to. (On that sidenote, Abby being that surgeon’s daughter did nothing to enhance this feeling. I could’ve imagined Abby in a settlement much like Jacksonville where they’re all hopeful because they found a surgeon who’s leading research about the cordyceps, maybe he’s a super good leader, inspires the Fireflies to keep up their spirits, all that. Maybe Abby’s group could’ve been his super close-knit group of soldiers taking care of him and running errands for him, even then the rage would’ve been justified.

I get they wanted to draw the parallel between Joel-Ellie, surgeon-Abby, dad-daughter relationships but that added nothing to the story for me. It didn’t take anything away either, I just kinda rolled my eyes like okay, whatever.)

So when Ellie was on her revenge quest, I liked that she and Dina were in Tommy’s footsteps, I thought that was a nice touch and kinda foreshadowed another section of the story where we would meet up with Tommy eventually. 

Now, Dina and Jesse, I found nothing wrong with Dina or her being pregnant (except that it reminded me of Aniara and I hate that movie with my whole being). I thought it was a good enough source of conflict and I really liked Jesse being around. When he shows up and they’re just saying they’ll get Tommy and then get the fuck outta there you can already tell Ellie is obsessed but you’re still holding out hope that Dina will be enough to get her mind off of it but she’s just too far gone.

So the shift to Abby and the scars.

Jacksepticeye said it while he was playing that Abby’s part should’ve been like a DLC or something but I honestly don’t agree. I mean I don’t disagree but I think it worked the way it was. I definitely think most problems people have with this switch that doesn’t stem from the fact that people disliked Abby or that they can’t admit to themselves that they were caught off guard by the changed narrative style, could’ve been solved with different pacing. Now I don’t know if they would’ve had to constantly switch between Ellie and Abby for it to work or figure some other way out because I’m no expert but still. 

I liked the beginning when it switched to Abby, the whole atmosphere was so eerie like you could tell they were on a collision course and it was going to get ugly. Maybe something like that could’ve worked but it could’ve just been either too suspenseful and tense the whole way through that it draws the attention from the gameplay or it would’ve been even more on the nose than it already was with the parallels between Abby’s group and Ellie’s group.

Now I honestly really liked that Abby’s story was so different because when she returns to the stadium, the part of her story that involved Joel is over. She got her revenge then she goes on with her life. She had a life before Joel entered it, she has one after she killed him. And it just so happens to be a good opportunity for the game to showcase some of the shit that goes on outside of what we’ve known so far and what Ellie knows.

I didn’t mind the religious aspect, I think it makes sense, like enough time passed since the apocalypse that the then grown up generation is distant enough from their old lives, and the generations after them are growing up in the ruins of the old society, that a messiah figure like that lady could emerge. That it just had to be transphobic and shit sucks of course and I do understand the frustration with it. I can imagine better writers coming up with a way to make the Scars despicable without them having our current society’s problems. They could still have the trans and the Asian characters still of course, but without them having to face the struggles trans characters do in our current world.

So that Abby only realises Ellie’s just one step behind her when she still has the climax of her individual story to get through was just. To me it worked so well. Like here we play as Ellie for half the game, this girl is consumed with rage and then Abby’s just fucking off and doing something entirely different because that’s... how little... it affected her. Or at least she personally got her closure and is ready to move on.

I personally liked the conflicts she had in her group, it was believable, it felt reasonable for the kind of life they lived. Of course we already spent one full game with Ellie so Abby was never going to catch up, but if you’re thinking like me then by less than half of Abby’s story you already don’t want Ellie to kill her.

The confrontation in the theatre was messy but since it’s not the end of the story I sort of don’t mind. I know some people don’t like how Jesse died or how little time we have to process certain deaths and story beats and of course it can just be bad pacing but that was again something that to me just brought the player’s world on the same level as an NPC’s world. That for one enhanced the experience for me.

Okay. Let’s talk about the last part that starts with Dina almost dying at Abby’s hands, especially after she says “good” when Ellie tells her she’s pregnant. Of course there’s the callback to dead Mel. But I liked that Lev was there and his presence sort of switched Abby’s role. Up to that point Abby had been Ellie. But then when she has Lev, and she acknowledges him as “her people”, she becomes Joel. And then she becomes a better version of him. Or at least a version of Joel that has mercy.

And you’d think being this close to losing Dina is where Ellie would snap back to it. And she does, for a while.

Here’s when I admit the pacing definitely needed some work regardless of anything. Up until that point we go through three days, albeit twice, but three days. Then suddenly we’re nine plus months later and the setting is different and we don’t get enough time here before Tommy shows up with the end of the story...rope... we got cut in half in the theatre.

I’ll take some time here to genuinely express my what the fuck at Tommy here.

My memory is a little fuzzy here but wasn’t Tommy on board with returning to Jacksonville when they return to the theatre? I actually just checked, Tommy says “they got what they deserved” to which Ellie says “but she (Abby) gets to live” and Tommy says “yeah”. And then when he visits Ellie and Dina suddenly he’s a dick about it saying Ellie made a promise? Is that something that was supposed to happen off-screen or a plot hole? Did that conversation in the theatre have more versions they went through and the wrong reaction got included? Maybe I just didn’t pay enough attention but it felt out of the blue for me and I can safely say that’s the character moment I’m disappointed in the most, especially because we never see Tommy again.

One could argue that the choppiness of time is supposed to symbolise the dissociation and out-of-body experience you can have when you’re living with trauma but I truly just have it down to bad pacing here. I get that they wanted to show the baby but I truly believe with enough polishing they could’ve come up with a scenario that works better and flows better.

I truly could’ve had Ellie maybe leave with Dina and Tommy and then have her turn back before they leave Seattle and then they have the conversation with Dina and then Ellie starts tracking Abby. Here we could’ve had more of what was in the beginning of the story, sort of switching between the two, maybe slightly altered gameplay, etc. Even though the last level as Ellie was really cool and once again I liked how we just barely got a glimpse of how other people live, you know. Those prisoners in those cells have a hell of a 25 years behind them and being freed by this stranger might be the best thing that will have ever happened to them, but to Ellie they’re just a background noise to her mission.

I truly liked those parts.

I could imagine Ellie being kidnapped similarly to Abby but they are treated differently and somehow still end up escaping together, maybe even helping each other the way Ellie almost did with cutting Abby down and letting her get Lev to the boat. And then you’d have Ellie still be consumed by her rage.

The whole time I wanted her so much to just scream everything at Abby. Because look, life for these people is a whole ass trauma. Some people like Dina might handle it differently, or it’s easier with a community around you, but Ellie’s life has been very strange, with her immunity, with the realisation that Joel killed and lied for her, all that. She would need a fucking good therapist. I wanted that catharsis, for her to scream at Abby, to sob until she can’t even breathe, for Abby to do the same, except she realises she got her closure while Ellie never did, and then maybe for Abby to give some sort of... forgiveness to Ellie. For her life not having meant anything in the end.

I don’t know, I wanted that for her.

If there never is a last fight, if Ellie never so much as punches Abby, that would’ve been fine for me.

Two more things that I liked were that Ellie actually started down a path of forgiveness before Joel died. You know, when we see the scene where Ellie tells Joel off you’re like “oh that’s the last thing she said to him, no wonder she feels so guilty” and then you realise, oh no wait, they were actually eventually going to be alright. They just never got the time. To me that hit so much, that was a good scene.

The other thing I liked is Dina leaving. Once again this could’ve been something like, Ellie goes back to Jacksonville and there they tell her Dina left or sum shit idk how that could’ve worked, I’m just saying that losing that farm life didn’t really make me feel anything because we didn’t get the time to grow attached to it.

So Dina leaves, and suddenly you’re back in the room with Sam in the first game when this bitten boy asks Ellie what she’s most afraid of, and she says she’s scared of ending up alone. And this immune girl Joel killed and lied and died for, eventually ends up alone.

So I understand that a lot of TLOU’s fanbase that belongs to a marginalised group, especially those part of the LGBT+ community would be hurt by this ending. By this interpretation. The LGBT+ community, as far as I know, at least a huge part of it, seeks to heal. We use fiction as escapism in a way people who don’t know, who can’t know our struggles will never be able to sympathise with. And as such, we as a community in a large part, have moved on from stories of pain. Not necessarily in that we turn a blind eye on it or anything, but I think it’s a mostly universally agreed thing that after so much suffering we’re ready to see ourselves, and people like us end up happy. And as such the demand from this community towards creators have shifted to not necessarily fully happy endings, but some sort of relief. And as such, this ending is cruel.

It is heartbreaking. My heart breaks for Ellie because I can practically feel the weight in my chest that she carries around when she walks away. She lost everything and she never got the closure. She never got that relief and neither did we.

Once again, if you personally have a problem with this ending and it ruined the game for you, I understand it completely. That’s your own experience with the story, and even though I feel much of the same things, I’m once again left here thinking this is the way the creators wanted to do this and that they did it like this makes sense. It makes sense for the story, the characters, it just does. If it had happened differently in a way that also makes sense, I would not think “oh this should’ve had a heartbreaking ending, this is bullshit” but I do think the ending makes sense.

Overall, I’m pretty much pleased with most everything, except fuck false advertising, fuck Tommy, and fuck uhhh, I’m pretty sure I mentioned something else too. Oh yeah, pacing. Jack actually offered a really great alternative to the beginning, where the museum scene of Ellie’s birthday should’ve been the first scene, and then you could’ve had Ellie wake up four years later at the end of the countdown. That Joel told Tommy about the hospital could’ve been implied through dialogue and interactions.

I also don’t think Joseph Anderson’s theory is hurt by this, he said personal decisions and morality aside, the Fireflies were fucking idiots and they couldn’t have come up with a cure even if they had given Ellie the chance to say yes, because of how unprofessional they’d been and how much they rushed into the surgery. Just because Abby’s dad was a good dude and a good surgeon doesn’t mean shit when you’re dealing with something you’ve not seen before, such as Ellie’s immunity. And I think knowing that wouldn’t have mattered to Ellie either to change her mind about forgiving Joel. And this is what I’ve always said. Like the Fireflies or not, believe in them or not, taking a choice like this away from Ellie because you can’t stand losing your daughter again (and that is why Joel kills the Fireflies, not because he shares Joseph’s opinion) is objectively wrong and borders on the same obsession we see consume Ellie. Joel is just as unhinged by that point as Ellie is, he’s just more... mature about it, I guess.

That could’ve been even more painful, sort of, to not have Abby be the surgeon’s daughter but just for her and her group believe in this doctor that might just be talking out of his ass so much that them avenging his death sets off this terrible cycle of vengeance. I think that could’Ve been very “gritty” and shit, that would’ve hurt because it’s even more pointless. People killing over lost hope.

So, pacing, Tommy, false advertising, bad points, everything else, yeah alright. 7/10 sounds good to me. I will play this one day >)

[calypsoff]

Thirty Nine. Part 3

Robyn is an emotional wreck, I hate that she continues to cry because she doesn’t need too “I am sorry, they are happy tears and just the fact you’re here with me Chris. Throughout this tour I have been so worried about you, I just thought he would do something stupid. He won’t get better, he won’t do it, but you did. It’s been a battle and to see you like this, you’re happy!” she spat, licking my lips laughing “yeah, I understand but don’t cry it’s fine I am here now. I was ignoring your calls for this reason” Robyn breathed out rolling her eyes “I was like Mel he’s not answering, he’s posted a picture like that. He is out in Cali; he is ignoring me. I was going to come back to Cali to sort you out actually, I was so mad. But look at you Chris! Look at you” she placed both hands on my arms “I am in awe; Chris I am just so happy. I am speechless, and you came here for me. How is it? Last time I saw you there was a walking frame, so tell me?” she moved her hands back “I can walk and stand on my own, walking I am not the quickest and long period of standing is no good for me so that is why I came here to rest, nigga can’t take that shit you know, but I will get there. Other then that I am well, but yeah. I came here for you. To surprise you, I honestly don’t know what I would do without you Robyn, like you really gave me a reason to love, like you don’t think it and you’re going to tell me to shut up but if you weren’t around, I wouldn’t be alive. I would have accepted death, the only reason I cried and felt the way I did at that moment because I had a reason to be here, I have you and I felt I was losing you at that moment, to never see your face. I thank you so much Robyn” Robyn shook her head “don’t say that you look so handsome Chris. I am crushing on you so hard right now; you look so much better. You look so, vibrant. That is the word, you look so happy. And you shaved, thank heavens, oh god. I love you” Robyn walked over to me, placing my arms around Robyn and picked her as I hugged her “oh I forgot, you got muscles now. Is this what we are doing now?” I chuckled; she knows I am going to be flexing.

Robyn is getting changed so we just waiting for her to come out, Rorrey rested his arm on my shoulder “you got Majesty again? What is this?” he pointed laughing, looking down at Majesty “because back in Cali, I called Majesty annoying and Noella got angry with me” Rorrey laughed “well who told her to bring this baby around people unwell” Noella put a finger up Rorrey “I am just saying, but we all friends now. Clearly Majesty likes you” nodding my head “she is too damn cute though, her cheeks are so chubby” Rorrey reached over stroking her cheek “she is, little fatty” Robyn finally came out “can we go and eat now!? Damn!” Rajad spat, she took a while “be quiet” Robyn a little shy now. I saw that look on her face, she put her head down as walked off “wow, see how she walks off knowing I can’t walk fast” Robyn gasped looking at me “she is straight rude, the man is trying and you running” everyone is getting so annoyed with Rorrey “are you his backing singer, nigga shut up. I was coming, I was walking around to you. Oh now you like Majesty” see I knew she would say that “Majesty was saying how nasty you are, she likes me actually. It’s ok you go, I have Majesty now” Robyn side eyed me “clearly, and that ugly thing behind you” she pointed at Rorrey “you both look like a gay couple with a stolen baby” Robyn is so mean “jealousy, wow. Damn, you want me to put the baby down” she is sassy.

This restaurant is amazing, it’s beach front. Like the beach is right there and it’s remained open just for Rihanna, it’s cute because they have a welcome home banner here for her too. I think Robyn forgets I am slow with walking, she always walks off, but she knows I am with her family anyways, her brothers are cool, and I do like them. Pulling the chair out next to Robyn “you keep leaving me constantly, I thought you missed me” sitting down on the chair “I do, but you was deep in conversation with my brothers so I thought leave it” shuffling the chair in “I think you getting shy with me though” Robyn rolled her eyes laughing, she really is and is lying “be quiet, you wish” she knows I am right, I am sat right across Ronald. Out of every person that I could be sat across, it’s Ronald. Leaning forward on the table, Robyn placing her arm around my shoulder, resting her head on my arm “I have missed you so much, I find it so surreal that it’s you here” looking to the side of me “admit you crushing on me first” she moved off of me and lightly hit my arm “anyways!” Robyn got up from her chair “let me do a little speech, so I am just so happy. Happy that the tour is over, happy that I can now just spend time with my loved ones. Thank you all for bringing me out here, for having this end of tour meal, I love you all so much and thank you. My voice is nearly going, and Chris being here. It’s really topped it off for me, Mel stop recording me!” Robyn laughed “I am stopping now because I can’t speak anymore” she sat down, clapping my hands as she shyly sat down and shuffled her chair in.

I am not hungry, not in a bad way but I feel so nervous about it all. I feel nervous proposing to Robyn anyways, I would like to have done it privately but I know how much her family mean to Robyn so that is why “what’s wrong” Robyn placed her hand on my knee, I jumped a little “uhm nothing” sitting back on the chair, placing my hand a top of hers. Wrapping my hand around hers, just staring at our hands together, they fit so perfectly “I am tired I guess, but I am also happy the tour is over, I can spend time with you finally. I am just happy, don’t worry about it” I am nervous as fuck, but I can’t say anything about it “so Chris how did you meet my daughter? I think I remember my daughter saying you met at her concert” Ronald asked, here he goes “yeah, but I met before then. She came to my school as an exchanged student. You must have known that right or you just asking questions just because?” see I am already annoyed about earlier “I haven’t met you before, I don’t know who you are” he thinks he is clever “and what I am trying to say, you should have known if you paid attention to Robyn instead of Rihanna” Robyn looked between me and her dad “don’t come to me like that, you don’t know me” I chuckled “but you don’t know me either, you came at me sideways. I don’t want your daughter’ money, when she came to America did she have money then? No, weren’t you the one that failed to send her money when she was in VA because you spent it on something else” Robyn turned to me “please stop, let’s not do this right now” nodding my head “your dad came at me, he said I want your money, I am defending myself. I don’t want your money Robyn, never have. But let’s move on” I will drop it “dad please, this stops now. I don’t want it” least she told her dad off too cause he is an asshole.

Lightly touching Robyn’ hair at the back, twirling her hair between my fingers. I like it when she has it opened, I also liked the shaved side thing, but I think she said she was going to grow it out, I heard her saying it to Yusuf, she is in deep conversation with Yusuf, and I am just sat here playing with her hair. Robyn eventually turned her head to me smirking “you done?” she said smiling from ear to ear “not so much” resting my arm against the back of Robyn’ chair as she sat back, shuffling my chair to the side so I can be closer to her. She snuggled into me, resting my arm on her shoulder “I feel a little shy with you, not going to lie. It’s like seeing you all over again, feels like the time when I saw you at my tour date and you came, the following night I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. I will get over it but I am just so happy you are here” Robyn placed her hand on my thigh “I wouldn’t do that if I was you, I mean you know I haven’t had any in so long” Robyn giggled “be quiet” she mumbled, lightly nuzzling my nose against the top her head “you staying at a hotel?” I said in a whisper “you know I am staying with my mother” taking in a deep breath “you are getting a hotel though” Robyn looked up at me “for what?” she said with the biggest smirk on her face “on a real, at this time of the night. My mother would refuse” rolling my eyes “but I want to blow your back out so now what?” Robyn put her head down giggling “don’t just giggle and be touching my thigh, I need a solution” I want sex, it’s been too long “first of all I haven’t had a shower from the tour, I just came here. I am also tired, I want us to have a special night. Ok listen” she turned to me “solution is, we go tomorrow. To a hotel, but we can’t do it at my mother’ house. Because it’s been a while, I don’t want her or my brothers to hear” I groaned out “how am I going to deal with that? Tell me” Robyn pecked my cheek “come” she got up from her chair.

Robyn held onto my finger as she walked passed her family, is this like a walk of shame. This is awkward but we went inside the building “you bad” I know where she is going now, she is trying to make me happy “you don’t have too you know? Like this, I mean I can wait one more day. Like a honeymoon thing” I yanked my hand back and gripped her wrist “but we can” she furrowed her eyebrows “no, I think we can have a special time tomorrow, I know we will” wrapping my arms around Robyn, I need to also gather myself to propose to Robyn. Placing my hand on Robyn’ butt “I love you so much poppa, you made me so happy, you do not understand. You just coming here, just because I didn’t think you would have come in the first place but you’re here, to see you like this too. I probably stank right now too” I inhaled deeply “stop it” moving my head back “you smell just fine, is your momma going to let us sleep in the same bed now? This is concerning” I just thought of that now “yeah but like it’s a little awkward to have sex there, just because I know the sex about to be nasty. It’s been so long” she knows, biting on my bottom lip smirking “you know it huh” pressing a kiss to the top of her forehead and squeezed her close to me, I mean yes we could have had sex quickly in the bathroom but really, do I want to do that when I want to burn her out and put her into several positions “god I missed you” I really did.

Staring at Robyn across from the table, I am sat with the boys, but I just want to be with Robyn, and I can’t stop looking at her. She caught me staring and I just laughed putting my head down “aye Chris, you said you was going to give us free things? Well me” looking at Rorrey “I did?” I questioned confused “Black Pyramid” letting an oh “yeah, yeah. I got you” nodding my head looking back over at Robyn, she is staring at me. Robyn is really twirling her hair between her fingers too, smiling at her lightly. She winked at me, more like blink but it was cute. I sighed out, realising the song playing in the background, Alicia Keys – Un-Thinkable. Such a fitting song “you nervous” looking at Rorrey “a little” he slid over a shot glass to me “some courage” smiling lightly, he is right. This could help, taking the shot glass. Downing the content straight, I didn’t even think about it because I need it. Placing the glass down, I am feeling it now. Just everything, like from seeing her then to now I am sat with her family, I am scared “what if I fuck up?” I mean that could happen “what do you mean?” Niko asked “he’s going to propose to Robyn” Rorrey whispered, his eyes widened “go! Do it now” he said it like it’s so easy to just do it.

I have so many things going through my mind, what if the ring is just ugly, what if it doesn’t fit, what if she doesn’t want to do it just yet. I need to do it, I am sweating a lot too. Mel has this stupid look on her face “and what do you want sloth, that is your new name” rolling my eyes at her “man, shut up. Can I just borrow Robyn? Or I could jus sit down” I just chickened out on it, I sat down with my hand in my pocket, my hand over the box “the hell nigga?” Mel said, Robyn looked over at me “you good over there” she asked, I couldn’t help but laugh. This is just laughable, I am so dumb “uh yeah, just floating around” Mel snorted laughing “floating huh, you had too much weed over there” I am sweating so bad, I look so awkward, and Robyn knows it “you want to go home?” shaking my head “maybe take your tee off, you’re sweating” clearing my throat “yeah, you know like it’s been a year since I like met you again, I seen you at your tour that time. It’s been pretty much a year, since we reconnected. I just thought I would point that out” Robyn cooed out “it’s nice you remember that, but it has been, crazy right” Robyn went right back to talking to her friends and family, Mel poked her bottom lip out at me “come on now” wiping the sweat from my forehead, what am I doing because this is terrible.

I have been sat here with my hand over the box “come, we are going now” how long have I been here, we are going “Robyn” I said as she got up “mhm?” this is terrible “I love you; I really do. I am so glad you came back into my life” Robyn placed her hands over my face, pressing a kiss to my forehead “come on, you a little romantic today” she grinned, Mel eyeballed me “this is bad” I said, Robyn is walking off to go to the house. Fuck this, I shot up and got in the way of her friend that was following her. Getting down on one knee “Robyn, I have been trying to ask you. Will you marry me!?” I shouted, I shouted as loud as I could, and I heard the gasps. Everyone stopped walking, opening the box “I been trying to ask you just sat there, but will you marry me, and we can be together forever? I love you” Robyn turned around slowly in utter shock with me being on one knee, she looks in horror but also shock. She was going to place her hand over her mouth, but it froze there in position, shock has taken over Robyn staring at me “will you marry me?” I asked this time with her looking at me “me?” her little voice said, nodding my head. Her sobs left her lips “yes, oh my god yes” she cried out, I think my leg fell asleep, but I got up. I closed the box as I hugged Robyn, I didn’t expect to get so emotional myself, but I did, tears left my eyes “I love you so much, stop crying” she is making me cry, the cheers and claps around us was heart-warming to hear. Just to feel the love form everybody.

Robyn is really shaking, even putting the ring on her finger she is shook “I can’t believe it” Mel screamed running into Robyn as they hugged “ahhhh yessss bitch, my girl is getting married. She is about to be a wife, ahhh!” closing the box, that was stressful “I was about to cuss you out when you flew by me” Sonita said “but all is forgiven, I haven’t seen my friend so shook and crying. It’s nice to see her so happy” I chuckled, I thought she was going to beat my ass “I am shaking” Robyn walked over to me “the ring is beautiful Chris, I am in love. You really want to marry me? Is this real life” nodding my head “of course I do Robyn, I love you to the moon and back” Sonita held Robyn’ hand to see the ring “this is so beautiful, you paid out for my girl. Good, you treat her like a queen she is. That ring is beautiful” they are gushing over the ring, I did good then and I am happy with my decision, I can’t believe I did it “congratulations son, you will be my son in law. Welcome to the family” Monica held her arms open waving me over, stepping back from everyone and made my way to Monica “thank you for accepting me” hugging her close “you’re perfect for her, you make her smile so much and you love her, remember to always love my daughter even through her bad days, support her through it all, even the people that like to take advantage” I am sure that last part is shade towards Ronald, I am sure of it.

[apiratecalledav]

Sandor Clegane: Champion for the Innocent aka Cleganebowl Was More Than Just Revenge

In a series like this, with a culture so very different from our own, we mostly stop judging characters by what they do and instead focus more on why they do them.

Character’s motivations and rationale are a driving force in this series. The ones who are acting out of love or other noble intentions are the ones the audience roots for.

Despite what Sandor tells Arya and Ray about hate, we know that it’s actually his paternal love for Arya that lets him be reborn into a second, (comparatively) happier life: He finds a true home with Ray and his flock and has peace for a time.  When they are taken from him, he is still able to make friends with Beric and reunite with Arya and help save Westeros from the Army of the Dead.

Speaking of the war against the dead, let’s look at who our biggest heroes are and WHY I think they were successful:

Beric and Melisandre. Two people who aren’t particularly close to anyone still alive, so they’re not really fighting for their loved ones’ futures. They also don’t believe there’s any kind of afterlife, so they’re not looking to have their souls redeemed or get rewarded. Their actions are purely for the good of humanity.  

Theon, who didn’t believe he could ever make amends for his mistakes and even told Sansa once that he didn’t want to be forgiven, didn’t come to Winterfell for redemption. He is not motivated by revenge either because the Night King hasn’t done anything to him. He’s there because he loves Sansa and Bran. Even though you can tell that every nerve in his body is screaming for him to bolt when the Walkers arrive and you can practically hear Ramsay whispering “Reeeek!” in his ear, he stands his ground. Because Bran needs him and Theon is going to do anything to protect him.

Edd, who once ran from the Walkers and left Sam behind, saves Sam’s life this time. Now Gilly, who has suffered so much, still has her husband (shut up, they are married) and the father of her children.

Lyanna Mormont, though but a child, is the leader of her people and she felt it was her duty to stand with them.

Jorah literally does not allow himself to fall while Dany is still in danger. He only succumbs to his wounds once he sees that the threat is eliminated.

And of course, Arya. Arya, who didn’t even really like Beric much, fights tooth and nail to save him and when she can’t, tries to ease his passing the best she can. And then when Mel gives her a bit of hope, Arya runs to save her baby brother and the rest of humanity, making sure Beric’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.   

If I were some kind of deity, that kind of selflessness, love, and loyalty would be the reason to decide that the human race is worth saving.

Sandor had a really hard time during the battle and struggled with PTSD and felt worthless. Even though he managed to keep fighting for Arya’s sake and helped save her, I think he was very disappointed that he didn’t do more or have some grand epiphany that explained why he survived for so long.

He looks more broken than relieved when he realizes that it’s over. At the victory party, he’s still clearly depressed. He pushes Gendry and Tormund away. He snaps at the girl trying to proposition him. And he drinks. A lot.

Like Theon, there’s a lot that keeps Sandor up at night. He is haunted by the things he’s done and by the horrible things he has seen and experienced and so has never let himself get really close to anyone. The way he is and the life he’s led are easily the result of growing up around someone like the Mountain. Violence and fear. His innocence shattered as a small child when his own brother shoved him face first into a fireplace and their father did nothing to stop Gregor, before or after.

There’s a lot of self loathing and guilt and regrets:

He’s talking to Beric but there’s definitely some projection up there.

From across the room, Sansa sees that Sandor is suffering and she reaches out to him. As they start catching up, Sandor has a lot of mixed emotions. He’s proud of her and impressed but he’s also devastated for her, too. If anyone understands the loss of innocence through cruelty, it’s him.

In his way, he tells her that he wishes he could have spared her from it and that he really wanted to do so. Even though he often derided and pitied her childish innocence, it was also something that he cherished and envied.  

I know a lot of people criticized Sansa’s line about how she’d have stayed a little bird all of her life without Ramsay and Littlefinger and believe me, I understand and it’s certainly possible that the writers are just insensitive jackasses. But within the context, I think it does make sense. When you don’t have a real concept of mental health, never mind psychology or therapy, I imagine that rationalizing trauma would be a coping method. 

And unfortunately, this is also all Sansa has ever seen: you stay naive and sheltered or you randomly get shoved out of the nest and the only thing you can do is pray that you’ll fly.

However, we shouldn’t forget that Sansa was not once a little bird solely because she was sweet and innocent. She was also very, very much in a cage:

Being able to use the connections she got from Littlefinger and Ramsay (the Vale, being close enough to reach Jon), she got to take back Winterfell and have a real home again. Then she got to make sure that those two got what they deserved.

Sandor spent most of his life building a wall around himself but Sansa found a way to make herself free. She may have a better poker face and she may be more cautious, but she’s still the same kind and caring person she's always been. She saw Sandor was hurting and tried to comfort him and didn’t let him scare her off. She even puts her hand on his and I think that might even be the first time we’ve seen anyone touch him out of affection.

When she leaves, he seems to be doing a lot of thinking and looks a lot less miserable.

The next we see him, he’s on his way to King’s Landing and is joined by Arya. They seem to wordlessly agree that Sandor will hold off the Mountain while Arya kills Cersei. Neither expect to survive but it will end the war and it will save lives so they’re willing to make the trade.

However, before they can reach Cersei and Gregor, it rapidly becomes apparent that it’s too late and that virtually everyone in King’s Landing is doomed.

Sandor points this out to Arya. But her chances of leaving safely probably don’t look all that good to her anyway and she’s so close to the last person alive she hates most. The person who is, in a lot of ways, the catalyst for all of her suffering. It’s natural that she’d want to take Cersei down with her.

It has some interesting parallels to her reunion with Melisandre. Beric, Sandor, and Mel were all once on her list but she forgave them and phased them out. Sandor and Beric ended up saving her life. But I think it’s likely she put Melisandre back on her list when she found out what happened to Gendry. She looked pretty pissed:

Even though it looks like she’s only a few moments from death, I could see her thinking “At least I can avenge Gendry before I die.” But Melisandre tells her she might be able to end this and it’s not even a question. Arya leaves her to focus on saving the people she’s cares about. But it’s different in King’s Landing. She’s not home. None of her family is nearby except for Jon and he’s probably okay. Her friends and family aren’t counting on her, at least not in the same way.

Cersei is going to die, it’s just a question of how. So Arya has to decide what really matters: Revenge or Justice? If Arya has to be the one to kill Cersei, then it’s just about revenge. If it’s just about stopping someone cruel in power, then Arya can go.

Now Sandor’s speech about how he’s only wanted revenge feels a little clunky (I personally believe that bit is pulled from Lady Stoneheart) but I think it’s easy enough to see it as Sandor not knowing how to explain all his feelings of guilt and purposelessness and loneliness that stem from Gregor to Arya, even if he had enough time.

It’s certainly clear from the way he gently cradles Arya’s head like a parent does for a baby, that revenge is not all he cared about. I also think he’s kind of mimicking how Sansa took his hand to comfort him and add sincerity, hoping to do the same for Arya.

Arya decides that revenge isn’t worth dying for and she’d rather have the chance to live. And considering how Cersei faced death with such a raw and pitiable fear and bone deep anguish, I think it’s more than fair to say that killing her wouldn’t have brought Arya any satisfaction anyway. Arya calls to him by name for the first time and she thanks him.

What I liked best about this scene though is how the Hound, on Cersei’s and Joffrey’s orders, brought the first bit of darkness to Arya’s world by killing Mycah. But with this scene, Sandor gives Arya a bit of light that (hopefully) will never go out. Kinda like giving back the last piece of Arya Stark that started splintering once she left Winterfell.

So why does Sandor still go after his brother?

Because he’s had a very difficult and sad life and he’s done a lot of things he wishes he could take back. And then on top of all of that, despite all odds, he manages to be brought back from the brink of death. And it must be for a reason, right? What makes him better than Mycah or Ned or the farmer and his daughter?

Now maybe it was some kind of divine intervention that gave him the idea, but I think it’s more likely Sandor just straight up decides that his purpose was to free the world once and for all from the Mountain. Unlike Cersei, who is a small and fragile mortal, the Mountain definitely is not. How many (more) soldiers would have to die trying to get to him before the dragon could? If it even could. 

I saw a lot of people decrying the eye squish as pure gore or shock value but not at all! It was a call back to the Mountain’s fight with Oberyn. Oberyn, who could have killed the Mountain years ago if he hadn’t wanted revenge more than he wanted to stop the Mountain from brutalizing, torturing, or killing anyone else ever again.

But stopping him is what Sandor wanted most, so much that he could even overcome his worst fears. Sandor had a lifetime of the Mountain maiming and murdering countless people: Ripping dozens of daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, sons, and brothers from their families; widowing who knows how many husbands and wives; and no one had been able to properly do anything about it for years and years. It’s why he stepped between the Mountain and Loras all those years ago. Only this time, Sandor has the strength and ability to stop him for good.

That’s why he succeeds where Oberyn failed.

Near the beginning, it seemed like the Hound was introduced as a method of instigating Innocence Lost. But throughout the series, we see him become a champion for the innocent, such as Sansa and Arya and even Loras. In the end, Sandor takes out one of the most vicious and murderous characters (which is saying something) who is practically synonymous with the loss of innocence through brutality.

Yeah, he did it for himself but he also did it for his sister and father and their missing servants, for Elia and her babies, the prisoners at Harrenhal, and so many others. He did it for everyone who could have come in contact with Gregor in the future. The knowledge that the Mountain would never harm anyone again is probably what gave Sandor real peace.

He just saw it as a bonus that Gregor got what he deserved and that Sandor--not the Hound-- got to give it to him.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I think the second half of this book is my best work yet. I know I always say this and that’s bc I’m always getting better -Danny

Words: 4,073

Series’ Masterlist

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Chapter Twenty: St. Mungo's.

At five in the morning the mood hadn't changed much in the room, Fred had fallen asleep on her shoulder, George and Ginny were across, staring intently at some point on the wall, Ron kept his face hidden behind his hands.

Harry and Sirius would look around the room with a lost air, unsure of what their part in this whole thing was. Mel and her mother had the same worried expression, none of them was known to be patient, but they didn't have a choice, they were all waiting...

Mel was worried about Mr Weasley, but she was also worried about her uncle back in the castle, about Umbridge and how she'd react to the missing Gryffindor students... She was also worried about Erick, all alone and having to deal with the death of the man he'd admired his whole life.

That was all Mel could feel at its fullest lately, no happiness was lasting, no bliss was ever-present. Mel was in a constant state of worry and distress, part of it because of her own trauma, and because all around her there was simply no safe place where to hold on to.

Mrs Weasley came rushing through the door. Mel stared at the woman, trying to find any hints of the possible news. She didn't have to wait for long, though.

"He's going to be all right," The woman said. "He's sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now, he's going to take the morning off work."

Fred sat back beside her with heaviness, Mel pulled him closer with one arm and hugged him sideways, George and Ginny stood up and hugged their mother tightly. Ron finished his butterbeer, his usual colour slowly going back to his face.

"Breakfast!" said Sirius, standing up with newfound energy. "Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER! Oh, forget it, then. So it's breakfast for — let's see — nine... Bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast —"

Harry got up swiftly and walked over to the stove, clearly wanting to be of use in a room where he felt he had no place to take. He was wrong. Mrs Weasley made her way to the boy and took the plates out of his hands, encasing him in a fierce hug.

"I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you, Harry. They might not have found Arthur for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you he's alive and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover story for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea what trouble he would have been in otherwise, look at poor Sturgis..."

Before Harry had a chance to reply, she let him go and turned to Sirius and Emily.

"Oh, I'm so grateful... They think he'll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer... Of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas..."

"The more the merrier!" Sirius smiled openly at the woman. Emily nodded in agreement.

Mel knew Sirius loathed having to spend all his time inside the house, even with the company of Emily it surely was annoying, having nothing to do given the circumstances of his life.

"Sirius," Harry moved closer to the man and whispered something Mel couldn't quite hear.

Sirius gave the boy a funny look and followed him to the pantry. Mel felt the irresistible need to follow them as well, but she figured, whatever Harry wanted to talk about in private was not her business, not anymore. That much she'd said to him a few hours ago.

Fred stirred in his place and finally moved away from her grip, hastily cleaning his face before anyone could notice, Mel pretended not to see for his benefit.

"I'm going to help my mum with breakfast," She told him. "I'm happy your dad's well."

Fred nodded, half-listening to the girl. When she moved over to get something out of a shelf, she listened to Harry's voice coming from the little room next to her.

"Sirius, I... I think I'm going mad... Back in Dumbledore's office, just before we took the Portkey... for a couple of seconds there I thought I was a snake, I felt like one — my scar really hurt when I was looking at Dumbledore — Sirius, I wanted to attack him —"

"It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that's all. You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —"

"It wasn't that. It was like something rose up inside me, like there's a snake inside me —"

Dumbledore's words felt heavier than before, if Harry was truly affected by some kind of dark magic... it reminded her when Ginny started to act strange, when she'd been...

"Possessed," Mel whispered.

The door to the pantry opened abruptly and Sirius walked out of it causing her to jump, Mel directed herself to the stove, doing her best to not look back to where she knew Harry was currently standing.

She listened to Ginny's slow breathing unable to fall asleep. Her mind was replaying every moment of the last few months after the third task, trying to see if there were any hints that could point to a possession.

Mel thought hard about every time she had touched the boy, which to be fair, wasn't that many. Harry was acting up more often, that much was true, but who wouldn't after the hell he'd been through? Everyone had a limit, and Harry's got surpassed by a wide difference.

She didn't want to think about this, but she couldn't ignore it, not when it could lead to some of her friends getting hurt. It wasn't that she didn't trust Harry, but once again, Ginny was absolutely trustworthy and yet she'd petrified Hermione without meaning to. It could've ended worse if it weren't because Hermione got the answer on time.

When it finally was time for lunch Mel followed everyone downstairs with very little energy. No one but Harry seemed to notice, and that only because he too hadn't slept. Mel was once again torn between her duty and her personal interests. On one side, she felt she owed to her uncle to pay close attention, but that meant staying as close as possible, and that was something she didn't want to do.

Maybe it wasn't about being close physically, maybe she just had to get closer to his head. That one she could do without having to spend time with him. Legilimency and Occlumency.

That afternoon they were meant to visit Mr Weasley, the trip could be useful, she could stand next to Harry and try to perceive if his energy had changed. It was hard work, and she couldn't fully trust in the little trick, but right now that was all she had.

An hour later and an awkward train ride with Tonks and Moody, she found herself entering 'ST. Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries' through the glass of what appeared to be an abandoned department store.

The things Mel saw in the waiting room were certified to give her nightmares, or at least, very peculiar fever dreams. A group of wizards and witches were walking around the rows of people writing down things on clipboards and asking questions about their symptoms. Beside her, she heard Harry asked Ron if those were doctors.

"Doctors?" Ron asked in a tone of bewilderment. "Those Muggle nutters that cut people up? Nah, they're Healers."

"Hey, they're not nutters!" Mel argued. "Muggles can't heal each other magically, they had to find their own solutions..."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron rolled her eyes. "Look, mum's there!"

"Over here!" Mrs Weasley called from the line where she was standing.

Behind the desk, she saw the portrait of Dilys, the witch that was also inside Dumbledore's office. Mel timidly waved at her, the witch did a quick count to make sure all the Weasleys were there along with Harry and Mel and she discretely returned Mel's greeting, disappearing from her portrait right after that.

"It's these — ouch — shoes my brother gave me — ow!" A man at the front of the line caught her attention. "— they're eating my — OUCH — feet — look at them, there must be some kind of — AARGH — jinx on them and I can't — AAAAARGH — get them off —"

"The shoes don't prevent you reading, do they?" said the witch at the front desk. "You want Spell Damage, fourth floor. Just like it says on the floor guide. Next!"

Two more people went before them, one worried father holding a little girl by the ankle, with fluffy white wings coming out of her back, and one man that was there looking for a wizard that apparently was confused to the point he was sure he was a teapot.

"Hello," Mrs Weasley said when they arrived at the front. "My husband, Arthur Weasley, was supposed to be moved to a different ward this morning, could you tell us — ?"

"Arthur Weasley? Yes, first floor, second door on the right, Dai Llewellyn ward."

"Thank you. Come on, you lot."

They followed through the halls and Mel continued to look around curiously, she probably had a funny dreamy look on her face, because Ron nudged her side, smirking.

"What now, you're adding 'Healer' to the list of jobs you want when you grow up?"

Mel snorted.

"No! Didn't you see all the crazy things happening in the waiting room? I wouldn't get used to that! I'm afraid that even though I've spent years as a witch now, at heart I'm still a muggle."

"Give it time, Lady," George replied. "It's been like what, four years? You won't even remember your life without magic after a decade living like a witch."

For some reason, that made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She loved being a witch, but her muggle life wasn't something she wanted to forget, especially when it had been the best years of her friendship with Harry...

Why did her mind insist on bringing Harry to every discussion?

"We'll wait outside, Molly," Tonks said. "Arthur won't want too many visitors at once... It ought to be just the family first."

Harry and Mel immediately stepped back, but Mrs Weasley reached out to get Harry and the twins grabbed her by the arms, pulling her along.

"Don't be silly, Harry, Arthur wants to thank you..."

"And there's no way you're staying behind," Fred said playfully. "Dad would love to see her daughter-in-law..."

"If you keep saying that you'll end up believing it," Mel warned him.

"I bet my parents would rather have you as a daughter instead of this bad copy of me," George teased.

"Who are you calling a copy, you idiot?" Fred reached to hit his brother, but George hid behind her. "Everyone knows I'm more attractive than you!"

"You two stop fighting!" Mrs Weasley hissed. "This is a hospital room! Please act your age!"

The three of them stopped, trembling with contained laughter as they reached Mr Weasley's bed.

"Hello!" The man called happily. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later..."

"How are you, Arthur? You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine, if they could only take the bandages off, I'd be fit to go home."

"Why can't they take them off, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try," Mr Weasley reached for his wand, and with one wave he conjured a couple of chairs for them to sit on. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open... They're sure they'll find an antidote, though, they say they've had much worse cases than mine, and in the meantime, I just have to keep taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour. But that fellow over there," He lowered his voice and pointed to the man in front of them. "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all."

"A werewolf?" Mrs Weasley turned to look at the man with wide eyes. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private room?"

"It's two weeks till full moon. They've been talking to him this morning, the Healers, you know, trying to persuade him he'll be able to lead an almost normal life. I said to him — didn't mention names, of course — but I said I knew a werewolf personally, very nice man, who finds the condition quite easy to manage..."

"What did he say?" asked George.

"Said he'd give me another bite if I didn't shut up. And that woman over there won't tell the Healers what bit her, which makes us all think it must have been something she was handling illegally. Whatever it was took a real chunk out of her leg, very nasty smell when they take off the dressings."

Mel's eyes stayed on the man laying ahead of them. The newborn werewolf, a man who was probably completely fine before being bitten. Was it really two weeks before the full moon? That wasn't ideal, she wanted to see her uncle, she was missing him lots already, and having half a week wasted because of his condition made her feel terribly for him.

"So, you going to tell us what happened, Dad?" asked Fred.

"Well, you already know, don't you? It's very simple — I'd had a very long day, dozed off, got sneaked up on, and bitten."

"Is it in the Prophet, you being attacked?" asked Fred.

"No, of course not, the Ministry wouldn't want everyone to know a dirty great serpent got —"

"Arthur!" said Mrs Weasley.

"— got — er — me," Mr Weasley finished.

"So where were you when it happened, Dad?" asked George.

"That's my business," said Mr Weasley calmly, "I was just reading about Willy Widdershins's arrest when you arrived. You know Willy turned out to be behind those regurgitating toilets last summer? One of his jinxes backfired, the toilet exploded, and they found him lying unconscious in the wreckage covered from head to foot in —"

"When you say you were 'on duty,'" Fred interrupted in a low voice, "what were you doing?"

"You heard your father," Mrs Weasley hissed, "we are not discussing this here! Go on about Willy Widdershins, Arthur —"

"Well, don't ask me how, but he actually got off on the toilet charge. I can only suppose gold changed hands —"

"You were guarding it, weren't you?" said George eagerly. "The weapon? The thing You-Know-Who's after?"

"George, be quiet!"

"Anyway," Mr Weasley continued like he hadn't been interrupted, "this time Willy's been caught selling biting doorknobs to Muggles, and I don't think he'll be able to worm his way out of it because according to this article, two Muggles have lost fingers and are now in St. Mungo's for emergency bone regrowth and memory modification. Just think of it, Muggles in St. Mungo's! I wonder which ward they're in?"

"Didn't you say You-Know-Who's got a snake, Harry?" asked Fred, glancing at his father anxiously. "A massive one? You saw it the night he returned, didn't you?"

"There's no need to talk about that night," Mel said roughly. The tone she used was enough to quiet the twin, but Mrs Weasley added more to it.

"That's enough! Mad-Eye and Tonks are outside, Arthur, they want to come and see you. And you lot can wait outside. You can come and say good-bye afterwards. Go on..."

Mel stood up and wished Mr Weasley as fast recovery, then she followed the rest of her friends back outside. Moody and Tonks went in, Fred spoke up.

"Fine, be like that. Don't tell us anything."

"Looking for these?" said George, holding out the extendable ears.

"You read my mind," Fred grinned. "Let's see if St. Mungo's puts Imperturbable Charms on its ward doors, shall we?"

They gave everyone an extendable ear, Harry's hand stopped midway, hesitant to follow through.

"Go on, Harry, take it! You saved Dad's life, if anyone's got the right to eavesdrop on him it's you..." George insisted.

"Okay, go!" Fred whispered once they were all seated.

"...they searched the whole area but they couldn't find the snake anywhere," She heard Tonks voice, "it just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur... But You-Know-Who can't have expected a snake to get in, can he?"

"I reckon he sent it as a lookout," Moody replied, " 'cause he's not had any luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a clearer picture of what he's facing and if Arthur hadn't been there the beast would've had much more time to look around. So Potter says he saw it all happen?"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this..."

"Yeah, well," said Moody, "there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," whispered Mrs Weasley. "He said Mel used legilimency and found nothing unusual, but he's not so sure."

"Legilimency?" Moody said in a tone of mild surprise. "A fifteen-year-old having control over that kind of magic? No wonder why You-Know-Who wants her on his side!"

Mel gasped and Ron was quick to cover her mouth. So that was it then, Voldemort didn't want to kill her, he wanted to use her.

"...The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake... Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him —"

Harry jumped back, dropping the extendable ear and looking at his friends with wide eyes. Mel kept her gaze fixed on the door.

She wanted nothing else than to follow Harry's lead and hide in her room for the rest of the day, but as soon as she set a foot on the entrance hall, Ron caught her wrist and pulled her towards the twins' room, quickly followed by the rest of the young Weasleys.

"What?" She asked, though she already knew.

"You know what's going on," Ron said. "You knew Harry was ill before Neville had left the room, and you knew Umbridge was hurting him. Not only that, but you had the same bruises as Harry on the back of your hand!"

"How..?"

"Hermione saw it one day while you were still asleep," Ron confessed. "You have to tell us what's going on."

"I don't have the answers," She said tensely. "I can't tell if what they're saying it's true, I don't know if Harry's possessed."

"But you can tell other things, can't you?" Her friend insisted. "Last June, you had the same injuries as him in your arm, only that yours were bruises..."

She looked at the twins and Ginny, they were all staring at her. Now was as good as any other day, Harry didn't care about her telling them, but she had to be careful. Mel sat down on Fred's bed and told them everything.

Well, not everything. She began her story on the night of the third task, when the thin wall dividing her lifeline from Harry's broke apart. It was simple, really. They had been through so many near-death experiences together that the magic in their souls had merged, creating their strange connection.

Dumbledore had called it survival instincts, Harry's mind would look for her whenever he felt in danger, whether he wanted to or not. Not only that, but they were able to lend a bit of vital energy to each other if they were lacking some in a crucial moment.

The Weasleys listened with their mouths wide open, Ginny kept biting her nails, Ron looked awfully confused and would look at her and then the floor as if he could see Harry through it.

"That's why we fought," She said. "Harry doesn't want to force me to feel his pain. He thought that distance would help but I don't think we'll ever go back to normal. It didn't use to be this strong but ever since he fought Voldemort I feel more things now... I see more."

"But..." Ron frowned, trying to gather his thoughts. "But it's not you in his body, right? Or Harry in your body?"

"No..." Mel hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "I stay in my body and he stays in his. I just... it's like dreaming. You feel things, but as soon as you wake up, it goes away."

"But you've been hurt before," Fred frowned. "Ron said it just now, you get bruises, and last night when we got here, your nose was bleeding—"

"Those were my fault—" She started, but Fred shook his head in disbelief.

"How's that your fault?"

"The bruises happened because I didn't ground myself," Mel said. "Harry was going through a lot... he was dying. I had to give in a little so he could come back. I had to let him take whatever he needed..."

Her friends gave her eery looks, she let out a tired sigh.

"I know how it sounds, but I promise this is not hurting me more than it hurts him. This thing goes both ways, if I were the one hurting, Harry would feel everything. He... he would've done the same for me. You know he would."

No one talked against her, still, Ron had lots of questions.

"What about last night?"

"Last night," Mel look down, fidgeting at the idea of having felt something else than just Harry, but not wanting to scare her friends. "I was weak– I used legilimency for the first time, it drained me. I couldn't push Harry's feelings away, I just buried them inside. Which was a mistake."

"What does that mean?" Ginny asked. "If... if it turns out he's possessed, what will that do to you?"

"He can't be," Mel sentenced, but her voice broke at the end.

"Have you felt anything strange?"

"I just feel Harry, even if he were struggling with something, I doubt I'd feel it. I only feel the things that belong to his soul."

"I don't get it," George frowned. "You saved his life last June and he blames you for the connection?"

"He doesn't blame her," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Harry's scared for her. You'd be terrified too if your best friend gets hurt every time you do. Harry probably freaked out when he found out he'd taken a bit of Mel's life. That sounds awful... But he would've done the same for you, and it was your choice anyway, I think you were brave for doing so."

"Maybe if you talk to Harry he'll understand," Ron offered.

Mel let out a bitter laugh.

"I've tried. As soon as he told me his idea— I've tried to tell him that this is not his fault. The best we can do is just ignore it and try to live normal lives."

"I don't think it'll fix it," Fred replied. "Things don't usually go away like that."

" I'm not saying I'll ignore it if he's in danger, you saw it last night, I was the first to arrive and help him. I like my new life, I like having more friends and I can't help but think that maybe..."

She stopped before saying 'I don't need him anymore', realizing it was something horrible to say.

"Maybe what?" Ron asked sharply, probably guessing what she wanted to say.

"Maybe it's time I stop treating Harry like a child and let him deal with this on his own. He keeps saying he can do it, so maybe I should listen."

"What if he can't, though?" Ginny asked. "What if they're right and... and he's..."

Mel got up. "I'm tired... can we please leave it?"

"But—"

"Sure," Fred stood up as well. "C'mon, we should help mum and Emily downstairs."

He shared one significant look with Mel, she wondered if he'd gotten a new revelation with this. Maybe he understood there was more to their agreement than just her wanting to get over a crush.

It was about wanting to escape from the constant reminder of being tied to someone against her will, someone who didn't want her around.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

[serendipitioussurvival]

The Problem with Reality, Pt 2

<Prev> The Monologue of one Maczysz Stilinski/Hale

“They say that, when you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Honestly though? That’s such a load of bullshit. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve almost died? Do you know how many of those incidents I’ve seen a play by play of my life? None, not even when I actually fucking died! I’ve been cheated out of a lot of shit in my life, a lot of good shit too, so I’m going to do the play by play! Ahem.

I was born Maczysz Angelika Stilinski to humans Claudia Stilinski and Jeorek ‘John’ Stilinski. I was an angelic kid no matter what anyone says. The first few years of my life were great, eating, sleeping, pooping and having someone else clean it up. That was nice, I guess, but then I got to be introduced to the wonderful world of education. Let me tell you - hell doesn’t even need to exist when you have fucking ADHD and a hyperactive imagination, okay? Not only that, but you put it in the body of a girl whose father was a Deputy and whose mother was a nurse. I was literally exposed to so much information - as much as I could get my hands on!

Believe me, by the time I was six I knew how to hide keys until my dad made copies or had to use the backup. I had a key for his filing cabinets, for the car, and for the front and back doors. I was never going to use them for evil though, maybe to do things I wasn’t supposed to, but never for evil. Anyway, getting off-topic. So, by six I was bilingual for Portuguese and English, a hell of a combination for a kid with ADHD who could barely form coherent sentences, let alone sentences with words that weren’t English. 

BUT - it was because of that multilingual gibberish that I landed my best friend, Scott McCall, who also knew Portuguese from his mother and bam! A friendship that lasts throughout multiple realities thank you very much. Then… then I lost my mom. I won’t go into that, I don’t want to, you already know the full situation in detail and it’s still painful. I - it’s my one regret, that little Mischief will have to go through that again, all because I couldn’t save her…

Uh, where - where was I? Oh, anyway, mom died. Dad started drinking. I hated it, had to learn to cook and do laundry. He never hit me or cursed me or anything, but he would - I dunno just give me these looks. Like he was looking for any trace of my mom in me, or he would look at anything but me. So, in true Max fashion, I shaved all my hair off. Scott thought it was punk as hell and told me we were totally brothers now. Hehe, it never bothered me that he saw me as a guy, made me really happy honestly since all my dad could see was my mom in me. So I started spending the night over at his more, studied with him, ate with him and Mel while she taught me how to cook certain dishes - she even let me help, the few times she was free to actually do that. 

Then dickhead Rafe - and no I don’t care that it isn’t his real name, he doesn’t deserve to be called anything but Rafe because he hates it so goddamn much - went and left because he chose to drink instead of fixing things with his family after Scottie got hurt. Suddenly we really were siblings, either staying the night over at his while my dad worked over night, or over at mine when Mel worked overnight. We slept in the same bed until we were thirteen - which other people still find weird. Let me tell you, we didn’t stop until he got his first morning wood at fifteen, and we celebrated it because, for the longest time, my poor Scottie thought his dick was broken.

Can I - can I even cuss here? Like, I’m not going to get smited, smote - whatever. I’m already here, fuck it.

Continuing on! At sixteen Scottie and I went all red riding hood into the woods and met the one, the only, Peter Hale. He was half-crazed and the other half of him was running on wolfy instincts, but it was Peter, and the prick decided that he liked my jacket on Scottie and bit him, turning him into a werewolf. 

Fast forward a couple more months of Scott trying to kill me, his first full moon where he made out with my crush and cemented the fact that I was definitely not lesbian, and then we get to the juicy bits where Peter killed Kate Argent - I hope that bitch is being burned to death, repeatedly, in hell. In fact - could I, like if I don’t get into Heaven or whatever comes after this, can I go to hell just to burn her? Like, that’d be my heaven. No..? Okay. 

Ahem, anyway, uh, Scott hit Peter with a Molotov, killing him, but Peter is crafty so he came back to life a little more sane but no less sassy, and decided to grace my doorstep every few nights with a letter on my window. They weren’t love notes, in fact, I’m pretty sure the first one was him telling me that he wished he had bitten me even though I said no just so his legacy wouldn’t ride on Scott’s shoulders. Looking back it’s funny, but back then I was furious. How dare this sociopathic nut job think my best friend lacks anything. 

Peter though, was different. Maybe death really does change you? I dunno, either way, he became more involved in the pack - or, well, he got more involved whenever I was involved. He gave me the research material he’d put together as his family’s bestiary and helped to figure out how to ‘cure’ Jackson’s reptile problem. 

Then he helped to deal with the Alpha pack and saved me from being tossed off the roof of the hospital by Ennis. Ah, there was also Scott betraying us, me, for the first time. That was fun, I think - honestly I think that was the first time that I actually touched Peter? Like he was always touching me and brushing against my arm, but I think that had been the first time I had touched him. 

It wasn’t anything special, but he stopped my panic attack somehow, and that was great. He was also really firm - ah, nevermind. That’s - that, I was seventeen for crying out loud. Okay? His body was hella nice and his smirk pissed me off and aroused me even when I wanted to kill him again. That night though, it was kind of the turning point. I no longer thought of immediately killing him whenever he annoyed me. 

Then the Alpha pack was dealt with, Scott was a ‘True Alpha’, and Deucalion was sent off - which I still don’t agree with, but whatever, I fixed that shit. Deuce gets to see his baby girl grow up now and Gerard is totally burning in hell next to Kate. Hehe, can - like I feel like I’m definitely gonna be sent to hell, so can you like, assign me to them? It’s gotta be their personal hell to see me again. No..? Gosh, I can’t tell what you’re thinking or feeling with that damned mask, whatever. Continuing on with my flashbacks. Ahem!

What was next? Oh yes, the Nogitsune.”

[blueboxesandtrafficcones]

Queen of Hearts - Chapter 11

Thirty-year-old Rose Tyler’s matchmaking business is doing very well indeed, bringing her clients such as celebrities, athletes, and the now-happily-married son of the mayor.  All of which brings her to her newest client - one whose royal rank is a far cry above her own title as Queen of Hearts.

Ian, King of Gallifrey, calls off his wedding four weeks before the happy day as he realizes he can’t spend another minute of his life with his betrothed.  The catch - he must take a wife before his Coronation, only a month away.  In desperation, his sister and aunt conspire to find him is happy ever after - and it’s going to take a master matchmaker to do it.

-

Based on the Hallmark Movie ‘Royal Matchmaker’.  Chapters will be posted every Sunday.

As always, beta’d by the wonderful @stupidsatsuma​!  @doctorroseprompts

Masterlist  |  AO3

---

Sunday, April 14th

“Ta da!” Rose said triumphantly, laying three pictures down on the desk. 

The first was Peri Brown - twenty-three, she was the daughter of an American newspaper magnate.  A botanist by trade, they shared a love of science and nature.  A (potential) marriage of opposites meant she would be ideal to breathe life and fun into the palace, with her bubbly optimism and can-do spirit.

In the middle was Romana Trelundar, a brunette beauty and Italian Countess.  The epitome of elegance, she would bring grace and decorum to the role. At thirty-five she was the oldest of the three, but brought a level of maturity to the match the younger women might not.

Then, third, was the highest-rated of the three, Rose’s top choice if Reinette didn’t pull through.  

Twenty-seven year old Clara Oswald was the daughter of an English Earl from the Midlands.  After a few aimless years out of uni, she’d found a love for teaching literature.  After discovering the King’s dedication to the Children’s Center, Clara’s roots in educating and tending to children put her near the top of the list.

All three smiled up from candid photos Mel had pulled from their Instagrams.  They were the final three, the culmination of two weeks of frantic matchmaking, and one of them would hopefully result in an untarnished reputation for Rose, when the lucky one married the King.

Her heart clenched.

“Great job!” Mel gushed, as they peered down at the photographs together.  “I knew you could do it.”

“We’re not done yet,” Rose warned.  “Not until the King says ‘I do’.  Then we can relax and celebrate.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be celebrating,” her friend said, with just enough of a hint of mystery in her tone to catch Rose’s attention.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mel shrugged, slurping at her ever-present glass of carrot juice.  “I’m just looking forward to seeing how this all turns out.  Attending a royal wedding.  On your birthday!”

“Me too.”  Rose worried her lip.  So much was riding on the success of this job, the idea of failure was unthinkable, and every time it was alluded to, her breath caught and her heart ached with nerves and worry.

“Did we get his surveys back?”

“Nope.  He said he’s not quite ready to hand them over yet.  Starting tomorrow he’ll spend a full day with each of them – Wednesday night he’ll let me know.  He said he wants to be sure.”

Studying the three pictures in front of her, Rose let her gaze drift up towards Reinette’s picture, which was still tacked onto the corkboard mostly out of hope.

Please let him find someone.  Please let him find the one.

-

Wednesday, April 17th

With nothing to do but wait, Rose and Mel spent the first half of the week getting in touch with Reinette and arranging her travel.  With her job almost complete but for him to make his decision, she had no excuse reason to spend the day shadowing him, though she continued to be summoned to share meals.

She told herself (and Mel, not that her friend ever asked) that her enthusiasm was for the opportunity to hear about how his relationships with the women were progressing. 

Which would have been true, if he told her anything.

By Wednesday night she was ready to tear her hair out with frustration, equally eager and terrified to hear who he would choose.

It has to be Clara, right? she worried her thumbnail, as Ryan led her through the palace ostensibly for dinner.  Will she be there?  Where are we going, anyway?

“His Majesty is down by the lake,” Ryan said, stopping at the doors to the patio that faced said lake.  Holding out her coat to her, his expectation that she would join the King was clear.

“Thank you,” was all she said, wrapping the trench coat around herself and stepping out the door, grumbling to herself.  If I‘d known I was coming outside, I would’ve worn pants.  Thinking they’d be inside for the night, she’d worn a cocktail dress and heels just as she had most of the evenings, leaving her legs bare and freezing.  Her only consolation was that the ground was so solid, her stilettos didn’t sink into the dirt.

First thing that check is buying are new shoes, she thought, picking her way down the worn dirt path.  She could see him, now, a solitary figure at the lakeside, illuminated by the moonlight.

In another life, it would be utterly romantic, and if she were one of the three potential matches she would think he was about to propose.

“Hi,” she said quietly when she got close enough, not wanting to startle him.

“Hey.”  The King let out a heavy sigh, and Rose’s heart simultaneously clenched and eased.

Stepping up she stood shoulder to shoulder with him, only inches away from touching as they stared out at the water together.

“What’s going on?” she finally asked, after several freezing minutes.  She didn’t want to rush him, but the air was even colder down on the shore, and she would shortly shiver herself to death.  “How did your days with Peri, Romana, and Clara go?”

The King shrugged, glancing her way, an unenthused expression on his face.  “Fine.  They were all lovely women.  In another universe I could have been friends with any one of them, maybe.”

“And in this one?”

He licked his lips.  “Nothing.  Not one damn butterfly.  I’m sure they’re perfect for someone, but that someone isn’t me.”

“Nothing?!” Rose demanded, incensed and a little offended.  Did he even try?  Is he just trying to waste my time, run out the clock?  “Okay maybe not love, but nothing?  What’s wrong with you!”

“Oi!”

“I know what I’m doing,” she insisted.  If he doesn’t marry one of them, someone, then my career is done.  “Those women could be perfect for you!  Were you open to it?  If you don’t open your heart you won’t find anyone!  Are you just determined to- to- to make me fail?”

Surprisingly, the King managed to keep his cool, though he gave her a severe look.  “You said I’d know,” he maintained, “and I did know – that they weren’t right.  Surely there must be other women.  What about that French girl?”

“Reinette,” she snapped, “will be arriving tomorrow night.  Your engagement party is a week from today.  I suggest you think very carefully before dismissing her so quickly as well.  At this point, there are no guarantees.”

And turning on her heel, she stomped back up to the palace without waiting to be dismissed, fuming all the way.

-

Ian watched her go, too amused to be surprised or offended by her lack of consideration for protocol.

You’re a total goner, Ian Reginald, the little voice in the back of his mind whispered, and sighing, he knew it was right.

Sticking his hands in his pockets he made his way to the palace, surprised but pleased to enter his dining room to find her already in her chair, arms crossed.  She was still stewing, but she was there, and at the moment that was all that mattered.

She pointedly didn’t rise when he entered, not saying a word until their first course was served and they were alone.  “Tell me why you didn’t like them.”

“They weren’t-” you “-right.  They were interesting, but I wasn’t interested.  No spark, no butterflies.  No fireworks.”

“Was there something specific?  Something I can use to adjust the formula, I mean?  Too… old, too young, you want a blonde or a brunette or a redhead?  Spanish, Eastern European, American? Nobility?  Wealthy?  I just- I don’t understand how all of them could be so wrong!”  Rose viciously stabbed at her salad, and he had to hide a smile.

“Let’s see how it goes with Reinette,” he said gently, “and then… then we’ll see.”

He would play along, meet the woman, spend time with her.

And then, he would figure out how to convince his sister to let him marry Rose.

Happy indigestion indeed.

-

Thursday, April 18th

Ian spent the next morning in a state of placid panic, as he waited on pins and needles for Reinette to arrive at the palace.  He felt a tiny bit bad about dragging her to Gallifrey just to waste her time, but it had to be done, and he had to give her a fair chance before dismissing her.

Rose had arranged a late dinner for them to meet, in the restaurant attached to the largest inn in town.

She went along for the ride, ostensibly so she could formally introduce them, though he suspected it was mainly to badger and lecture him when he couldn’t escape.

With a desperate seriousness and blazing eyes, she let him have it, and he could hear the occasional snort from Graham as she ranted, but Ian paid far more attention to her mouth than the words coming out of it.  With every severe gesture the pom on the top of her beanie waved.

It was adorable.  She was adorable.

“Are you even listening to me?!” she demanded, snapping him out of his daze.

“Of course,” Ian rolled his eyes, blatantly lying; judging by her narrowed gaze, she knew it as well.

Pursing her lips and crossing her arms, she said, “I’m working on finding more candidates if you’re not happy with her, but please give her a chance.  The wedding is in nine days.  You need to decide.”

“All right, all right,” he dismissed, not quite ready to tell her he had decided.  He would have dinner with Reinette, then tomorrow morning sit down with Donna and Sarah and tell them his plans.  Provided they agreed, Rose could be wearing his ring in less than twenty-four hours.

His stomach rioted at the idea, but in a good way, and he found her description of happy indigestion to still be on the nose.  “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck!  And behave.”  The car pulled to a stop and they got out, Ian offering Rose his hand and thrilled when she took it.

She led him into the restaurant and towards the booth tucked in the corner.  The locals in the restaurant recognized him, starting to stand, but he just smiled and shook his head.

A lithe blonde poured from the booth at seeing them to stand next to it, dropping into a technically perfect curtsey.  “Your Majesty,” she murmured, the words rolling off her tongue with a delightful French accent.

“Your ladyship,” he replied, taking her hand and kissing it gently.  To his amusement Rose’s face twitched, a sour expression flashing across it, in jealousy he hoped.  “A pleasure.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Rose bit out, smiling so brightly he thought her face would crack.  After seeing so many genuine grins from her, it was easy to tell how fake this one was.  She is jealous!  “Bon appetit.”

And she spun on her heel and left, Ian watching her go with a twinkle in his eye before settling down on the far side of the booth, across from Reinette and giving him a visual of the entire room.

Picking up his menu, he peeked towards the door to see Rose standing there, door half open, watching with what could only be described as a longing look.

I just have to get through tonight, then tomorrow she will be mine.

-

Despite his preoccupation with Rose, he found Reinette to be a decent dinner companion.  If he wasn’t already arse over teakettle for Rose, he might have even found himself drawn to her.  She was clever and witty, full of confidence but not herself.  They shared many interests, and even knew many of the same people – her family home in France was less than an hour’s drive from the Gallifreyan/French border.

Exactly as Rose had predicted, she would make the perfect queen of Gallifrey.

But she wasn’t Rose.

Deciding to forgo a ride back to the palace, after seeing Reinette to the stairs as she was staying in the attached hotel, he stuck his hands in his pockets and walked back.  It was a solid two-mile walk, but for as often as he did it it was nothing to him.

The crisp, clean air helped clear his mind, and he plotted out first his conversation with Donna and Sarah, and then how he would broach the subject with Rose.  The first he wasn’t concerned about; the two women were constantly raving about her, how impressed they were with her, and had nothing but good things to say about how she had organized the benefit for the Children’s Center.

His worry was how to start the conversation with Rose.  His gut said she felt as he did, that his feelings were not unrequited, but that she would take convincing.  She hadn’t come to Gallifrey to marry, and if she did become Queen, she would have to give up the life she knew.  Her dedication and love for her career were obvious, and he was sorry to know if she accepted she would have to leave it behind.

Whistling softly to himself as he climbed the steps to go around to the back patio, wanting to avoid the fuss of walking in through the front door, he spotted her leaning on the balcony of the upper level of the garden, staring out at the lake.  Walking on the lower path to stand beneath her, feeling like the Romeo to her Juliet and trying to remember how exactly the scene started so he could quote it to her, he heard her speak.

“I’ll be home once the King is married on Saturday.”  A pause, and he realized she was on her mobile.  Talking to her mum?  He knew the two were close, and he wondered if he should announce his presence; given the angle and darkness, she probably couldn’t see him.  “Come on Mickey, don’t be like that.”  Mickey?  Who was Mickey?  “Of course I miss you.”  What?  “I’ll be home soon, we can start planning the wedding then.  I’ve got to go though, it’s late.”  Wedding?  “Love you too.  Night.”

Love you.  Love you.  Love you.

The words repeated in his mind as Ian’s heart shattered into a trillion tiny pieces, laying broken and bleeding on the flagstones.

How could I have been so wrong?