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tumbledfreckles · 4 years ago

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Fitting In

Jilytober Day 13 Prompt from @magic-girl-in-a-muggle-world: Flying Lessons on AO3

James had realised recently that when Lily often said she was going to the library to study after supper, Sirius often disappeared. Not unusual in and of itself, but the face he always made sure to take the map with him was. That it seemed to only be the evenings that Lily went to the library also strange.

With time on his hands, and no mates to speak of that evening, Peter on a date, Remus unwell, James decided to investigate. First up was the obvious inspection of the library. He checked all the normal places, the Charms stacks, the dusty Potions corner, the hidey-hole near Herbology where Lily often hid when she didn’t want any of the younger students she tutored to find her in the aforementioned locations. Nothing.

Searches of the Potions labs, the kitchens, the Room of Requirement (Merlin, who even knew Gideon Prewitt was getting it on with William Terry anyway?) revealed neither his girlfriend nor his best mate. James trudged up the Astronomy Tower, hoping it was still too early and too light to run into any more couples with nefarious intentions.

It was, quite thank fully, empty as James completed a circuit around the exposed outside path. He looked out across the grounds, ticking off locations. Where the devil are they? He wondered. He turned to go back down the tower, when a shout and movement caught his eye.

Two figures seemed to be moving slowly around the Quidditch Pitch, barely a foot above the stands. If it hadn’t been for the shout, James would never have noticed them. The two brooms were extremely close together and one appeared to a bit shaky. He frowned, mentally consulting the Pitch schedule. No one had the Pitch booked tonight for practise, he was pretty certain. And there didn’t seem to be anyone else with the pair, let alone a whole team of players.

James headed down the Astronomy Tower, still frowning, his brain ticking over. The light had been too faded as night approached to see any colour in their hair, and it was too far to see what House the students had been in.

Still, with time of his hands and an ongoing distinct lack of mates, James decided he’d go for wander down to the Pitch and see who was there. It wouldn’t be Sirius and Lily, given Lily didn’t fly, but curfew was approaching, and he could at least pretend to be Head Boy. Lily would be pleased whenever she did emerge from her hidden location.

By the time he got down there, it was almost dark, but he could see that the two students were now on the same broom, doing lazy loops around the pitch. One was clearly female with long flowing hair and he guessed by the build of the other, a male. It wasn’t until he heard their voices that he recognised the flyers.

“I swear to Merlin if you do another bloody loopy thing.”

“Just relax and enjoy it. Maybe try and open your eyes.”

“I will if you just bloody fly straight.”

“Where’s the fun in that though, Evans?”

“The fun’s in living, Sirius.”

“Reckon we can go a bit faster?”

“This is fast enouuuggghhhhh. Siiirrriiiusss!”

James could hear Sirius laughing hysterically as they accelerated to what he could only really call a medium pace around the hoops at the far end of the pitch.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Prongs would kill me.”

“I’ll bloody kill you in a minute. Take me down!”

“As the lady commands.”

Lily shrieked again almost immediately as Sirius took them in several loops on his way down to the pitch. As they came toward the ground he could see Sirius was holding the broom with one hand while his other hand was clasped over Lily’s two hands on his stomach, her arms tightly encircling his waist. Lily’s face was pressed firmly into Sirius’ back and James guessed that her eyes were tightly shut.

“Honestly, Sirius, I will murder you,” James could hear Lily threatening as he moved further onto the pitch.

“Open your bloody eyes Evans, we’re on the ground,” Sirius smirked back at her, tapping his hand on top of hers comfortingly.

Lily opened her eyes, looking down at the ground before stretching her feet down towards the ground. “Oh,” she exclaimed, quickly swinging one leg over the broom to hop off. As she did so she cuffed Sirius on the back of the head, “Jerk.”

“Oi, watch it,” Sirius rubbed at his head and tried to smooth down his hair. “And I think the words you’re looking for are, actually, thank you.”

“Thank you for what?” James stepped forward from the shadows.

Lily jumped visibly and looked strangely nervous as Sirius turned around, “Prongs!” he greeted happily, a far cry from Lily’s obvious discomfort. “What brings you out this way?”

“Saw some people on the pitch. Thought I’d come see who was out so close to curfew. Didn’t expect to find you two here,” James shrugged, but knew his tone didn’t quite sound casual enough.

“I reckon I’ll let you take this one,” Sirius muttered to Lily, moving past her.

She tried to jab him in the side as he went, “Thanks a bunch.”

“Now you’re getting it, Evans,” he laughed as he jumped out of the way. “You’re most welcome, you ungrateful cretin.” Sirius continued walking, clapping his hand on James’ shoulder as he went past him. “Go easy on her, mate.”

James turned and watched Sirius head out of the Pitch back toward the castle. He turned back toward Lily, “Thanks for what? Why do I need to go easy on you?”

“I’m impressed with your Head Boy attentions,” Lily tried to deflect, nodding approvingly. “I must be rubbing off on you.”

“Don’t even try it,” he frowned again. “What’s going on?”

Lily muttered something, looking down at the ground as she stubbed her toe into the grass, kicking up a small clump of the pitch.

“What was that, sorry?” James stepped closer toward her.

Lily muttered again, but James was a bit closer and managed to catch the last word. Lessons.

“Sirius is giving you lessons?” He tilted his head to the side. “Flying lessons?” Lily nodded and James tried not to feel hurt. “Why didn’t you ask me for flying lessons?”

Lily gave him a pained expression, “It was meant to be a surprise.”

“A surprise?” James frowned. “For what?”

“The bloody Potter Easter Quidditch Tournament,” Lily burst out. “Sirius was telling me all about it, how even your Mum plays in it. And I’m coming home with you for Easter, I didn’t want to be the only one who wasn’t playing.”

“Oh,” James looked a bit shocked. “So, you asked Sirius to teach you?”

“I wanted to surprise you and fly well and make you really proud of me. And to make sure your parents like,” Lily explained, biting her lip. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

James had never felt more like he was going to melt into a small puddle at the sweetness this girl showed him. He took several more steps forward until he could reach out and grasp her hips, pulling him to her. Lily’s eyes were still downcast, her cheeks reddened with embarrassment, so James used one finger to tilt her chin up toward him before stroking her cheek softly.

“Lily, my parents will love you. Probably more than they love me. And Sirius. But mostly me. You don’t have to learn to fly for that to happen. And I’m always proud of you, proud that you’re my girlfriend,” he assured her.

She shook her head, “But I want to fit in. I want to be part of it.”

“You could keep score. Use your wit to entertain everyone with commentary,” he offered.

“I want to fly,” Lily argued. Her arms came up to loop around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape. “What a sad Gryffindor if I can’t face my fear of heights and learn.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” James smiled, pulling her even closer.

“Mmmm,” Lily hummed as she pushed up on her toes. “I think you might be a distraction.”

James’ hand buried in her hair as his lips dropped to her temple for a soft kiss, “How so?”

“Well, I’ll probably try to do this while your teaching me,” she pressed her own kiss in the crook of his neck, “And this,” a kiss on his jaw, “And this,” she planted her lips firmly on James’.

James wasn’t sure she’d made her point as he happily responded to the kiss. This was probably the type of lesson he could finally get behind.

#jilytober #jilytober2020 #jily fluff #sirius black #lily evans #james potter #lily and sirius were besties and you can't tell me otherwise #they would have been siblings that loved to tease #you cant tell me otherwise

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changingourdestiny · 4 years ago

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Season of the Hunt Part 5: I Promise

Summary:

While investigating the EDZ, Crow show’s Blaze a hideout of his within the ruins of the dam. There, Crow opens up to Blaze about his feelings towards his past.

Previous Part: Here

Next Part: Here

“I must say, you and Crow have very similar…er, flying styles.” Glint commented as Blaze and Crow transmatted into the EDZ. “Believe it or not, Rae’s worse!” Blaze laughed, “You’d be surprised how many times Ghost has scolded her for flying too fast!” Blaze glanced around the ruined remains of Trostland, “So where to?” “The Traveller sent us coordinates that seem to lead to the dam.” Crow replied. “Then lets go to the damn dam!” Crow let out a small chuckle at Blaze’s poor attempt at a pun, “That was awful.” “They only get better from here, bud.” “She means worse!” “Firefly!” Crow laughed as Blaze scolded her Ghost, which caught her off guard as she hadn’t ever heard him fully laugh. Not in Crow’s lifetime anyway. She couldn’t help but smile, happy that Crow was seeming to become more comfortable around her. “Anyway, let’s go before the Taken welcoming party show up.” “We’re going into the deep inside, so there should be less activity.” Crow nodded, “Follow me. I know a shortcut.” Crow lead Blaze through a series of old ruined buildings. “Do you come out here often?” Blaze asked. “Not as much since we met, but I used to when on assignment.” Crow replied, “It’s quiet out here. No one to bother me…hmph, or for me to bother.” That’s when Blaze realised it. Crow has bound to have run into other Guardians before being found by Spider. Guardians who weren’t as forgiving or willing to move on as she and her Fireteam were. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had gone through since being revived by Glint. “Watch your step.” Blaze was brought out of her thoughts as she and Crow arrived at a large, broken pipe, “It’s through here.” Crow entered the pipe and slid down it into another ruined area of the dam. He turned around to make sure Blaze had made it in. “…whooooooOOOOOOOOHOOOOO- WHOA!” “ARGH!” Blaze came flying out of the pipe and crashed straight into Crow, the two tumbling to the floor. “Ow…sorry…” Blaze groaned, rubbing her head. “Um, Blaze?” “Hm?” That’s when Blaze noticed she was laying on top of Crow. “A-ah! Sorry!” Blaze quickly got off him, her face a dark blue, as she helped him up. “It’s alright.” Crow replied, “Be careful up here, we need to cross on a thin pipe.” “R-right!” Blaze grinned, trying to hide her blush. ‘Blaze, you idiot, you’re supposed to be over this!’ Blaze scolded herself in her head as she followed Crow across the pipe. She brushed it off as seeing things, but she swore she had saw him blush too…

As they made their way further in, Crow suddenly stopped, “Hey, do you mind if we take a detour? I want to show you something.” “Sure!” Blaze replied as Crow led her through a debris filled hallway and into a room that was visible through a fallen-in wall. “Don’t mind the mess. Glint’s a terrible maid.” Crow joked. “What is this place?” Blaze asked, glancing about the objects scattered about the room. “This is just where I come to…get some distance when I need it.” Crow sighed, “Someplace to call my own.” “It’s his Crow’s Nest.” Blaze could hear the smile in Glints voice as he popped out beside Crow. “It absolutely is not.” Crow glared at Glint who went back to hiding in his hood. Blaze looked around the room before her eyes landed on a cluster of wine bottles. “Crow, do we need to have an intervention?” Blaze chuckled. “I didn’t drink that by myself.” Crow rolled his eyes, “In fact I didn’t have any of it. After Glint brought me back to life, I quickly came to realise that Guardians recognised me as whoever I was before.” Crow paused for a moment, “They…weren’t always kind. So I took to wearing a helmet to hide my face. Before Spider.” “Unfortunately, not all Guardians are good people.” Blaze sighed, “There have been Guardians who’ve used their powers for ill or have given into temptation. Some are just straight up cruel.” “Guess I was lucky to get a kind bunch.” Crow smiled. Blaze smiled back before something caught her eye, “Hold up.” She walked over to a blue bowl with golden markings on it, “These are Dawning patterns.” “Oh, right. Glint gave this to me.” “It was a gift.” Glint added, “It was the Dawning. Your first Dawning.” “This year’s Dawning should be starting soon.” Blaze suddenly had an idea, “I should see if Rae can convince Spider to let you come to the Tower for Dawning! You’d love it!” “As much as I appreciate the offer,” Crow sighed, “I fear I might not be welcomed by the Guardians there.” “In the words of a certain kind old lady that comes to visit us, ‘The Dawning is for everyone’. That includes you. And if anyone tries to say otherwise, they’ll have me and my flames to answer to!” Crow seemed surprised at first before giving a small smile, “Thank you.” Blaze grinned back in return before noticing the sheet underneath the bowl. Crow followed her gaze to it, “My first memories are of waking up under this shroud. The first thing that was mine.” He placed a hand on it, “It was comforting somehow. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. Someone cared enough to lay me to rest. I meant something to them, whoever they are, and that…means something to me.” Blaze tried not to let Crow the sombre expression that had sneaked onto her face. She remembered how much she had to pester Petra to allow her to hold a proper funeral for Uldren. If it weren’t for Jolyon also proposing it, she probably never would’ve succeeded. Blaze wanted to tell Crow so desperately who she was, but she knew it would only hurt him. Besides, he wasn’t the same person she had fallen for in her past life. It wouldn’t matter. So why? Why did she feel…? “I’m not stupid.” Blaze was brought back again by Crow, “I know…the person I used to be, he did something terrible. I can feel it when people look into my eyes and see him. The way Rae and Adam looked at me when we first met. I don’t ever want to know him. However…” Crow looked to Blaze, “The look you gave me was…different. And I couldn’t figure out how. That was…” Blaze watched as he removed something from under his cloak and hand it to her, “…until Rae told me your name.” Blaze looked down at what Crow had handed to her and let out a small gasp. A silver ring with a fire agate, the words ‘Blaisel Kiria. My phoenix’ engraved on the inside, hanging from a silver chain. “You kept it…” Blaze muttered. “I asked Rae about it. She said it should be up to you if you tell me or not.” Crow continued, “Like I said, I don’t want anything to do with who I used to be. But…I feel like giving this back to you might at least give you respite.” Blaze stared down at the ring, thinking over her choice of words carefully. “I…” she began, “I’m not too good with words. Saying comforting and meaningful stuff is usually Rae’s department. I just add the optimistic side-commentary.” Black chuckled, “But the person you used to be…we were close back then, until…something really bad happened. I know you’re not him. I came to terms with that a long time ago.” Crow gave a nod. “But who you were doesn’t matter.” This caught him by surprise as Blaze continued, “What matters is who you choose to be now. That person died a long time ago. He’s gone. And now you’re here. Only you get a say in who you are now. Not me. Not Spider. Not any Guardian. You.” Blaze smiled, “And I’ll be right here if you need me. I promise.” Crow searched her eyes for any deception or misleading, but all he saw was genuine honesty and kindness – something he had rarely seen in any of the Guardians he met. It was Blaze’s turn to be caught off guard as she was suddenly enveloped in a hug. “…thank you.” Crow’s voice was barely above a whisper – Blaze probably would’ve missed it if she wasn’t paying attention. Blaze smiled and gently hugged him back, “You’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Somethings happening.” Glint alerted, “I’m detecting massive gravity distortions in the dam!” “I know. We can see them!” Blaze and Crow watched as large boulders floated about the large room. “Savathûn likes zero-g apparently.” Blaze half-joked. “You think she’s capable of this?” Crow asked. “It’s Hive. I wouldn’t be surprised if they had means to make the entire Last City float. Here I thought doing the impossible was more of a Paralight trope.” “That would explain why you’re so good at taking them down.” “Taken welcoming committee inbound!” Firefly chirped as the tell-tale glow of incoming Taken appeared. “Shall we?” Crow offered his hand. Blaze smirked, taking his hand, “Hell yeah!” The duo jumped down as the Taken appeared, weapons at the ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You could nearly hear what that last Taken was thinking when you threw that grenade! ‘Nooo! Why would Sava-loon send me to such a horrible fate?! Curse you, Blaze and Croooooooooow!’” Blaze yelled dramatically as she reloaded her gun. “You’re so strange.” Crow laughed. “Hey. I’m one of the more normal people in the Tower. You think I’m strange, wait ‘til you meet the grenade-obsessed Titan that is Shaxx!” “I’ll believe it when I see it.” Blaze stuck out her tongue as she holstered Firelight, “So now what?” “As we finished that last Taken, I…felt something.” “Was it actually saying that telepathically to you?” Crow stifled a laugh, “Blaze, I’m serious!” “Sorry, sorry! Go on!” Blae giggled. “It was a yearning. For change…for adventure.” Crow smiled awkwardly, “It feels childish, but it’s like the gun – or maybe the Traveller – wants us to experience triumph.” “It might have something to do with elevated states of emotion.” Glint added, “Like you need to attune your minds to a specific wavelength.” “Like a happy radio?” Firefly asked. “Something like that.” “I think we should try.” Crow asserted before turning to Blaze with a determined expression, “Together?” “Together.” Blaze smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There’s increased Taken activity here.” Glint alerted as Blaze and Crow traversed the grove once more, this time staying together, “It’s going to be much more dangerous than last time.” “Good thing we’re here to back you up.” Crow added. “Yeah! Savathûn’s got nothing we can’t handle.” Blaze smiled, brimming with confidence, “C’mon. The shard should be right…over…” Blaze’s smile fell as they turned the corner. Where the shard once was, was now a large orb of Taken blight as Taken began to appear. ��What have they done?!” Crow exclaimed, “What are they doing?! We have to stop this!” “I’ll take left side, you take right!” Blaze called out as she made a dash for the Taken on the left of the blight while Crow began shooting at the Taken on the right. Blaze sliced through some of the smaller Taken with her dagger before focusing on some of the larger ones with her bow. “Blaze, behind-!” Crow’s voice didn’t reach her on time as Blaze felt a searing pain in her back while being thrusted forward into the rocky wall. A loud snap was heard, but it didn’t come from Blaze. “Oh no, NO!” Blaze exclaimed as she picked up her bow. Or rather what was left of it. It had snapped in half from the force with the fiery feather snapped from the chain holding it to the bow’s frame. She failed to notice the large Taken captain about to fire at her from point blank. “BLAZE!” Blaze felt a wave of heat as the Taken screeched out in pain. She looked up to see it growling at something off to the side. Across the way was Crow surrounded by a fiery golden glow with a furious expression and a flaming handcannon pointed at the Taken captain. Not just any hand cannon, though.

Hawkmoon.

To Be Continued…

#Changing our Destiny #blaze kiria #the crow #destiny crow #ghost #destiny ghost #glint #destiny glint #destiny 2

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xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx · 5 years ago

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Distanced - Joe Trohman x Reader

Summary: Since Joe started playing in this new band you two have grown distant, so you decide to surprise him by showing up at their first concert Word count: 2 196 A/N: happy birthday to Emma over on wattpad! Thanks for always chatting with me^-^

You did not want to be that possessive friend who could not deal with their friend moving on to other people. And to be fair, that was not what was happening either. Just because Joe had started playing in a band, and hung out a lot with his bandmates now, practising, writing music, did not mean he did not like you anymore. But you felt left out, left behind, and even though you were happy for Joe, that he had finally found people who appreciated his talent, you still felt sad that you did not get to see him outside of school as often as you used to.

And that you had always had liked him a bit more than a simple friend should, did not make it easier for you.

So you did your best to give him space. Of course you missed the late night chats with him, talking about how school was super stressful, how other friends or classmates were annoying, about the latest gossip about the teachers, or the new releases of your favourite bands. But then again he did not seem to miss it; at least he never initiated any conversations anymore, so you did not either.

What made everything even worse was that it seemed like he did not want to let go either. He had invited you to a few of his band meetings, apologising that he could not find time to spend with you alone, to watch old, crappy movies, like you had done all the time. But his band mates seemed to be irritated by you, maybe it made them nervous that you just watched, without being able to contribute anything. Maybe they just did not like you. So after a couple of afternoons of hanging out with the band, you started declining Joe’s offer to tag along, feeling like you were doing everyone a favour if you stayed away.

But the fact that Joe still occasionally asked, made you feel worse, like it was actually you who was pushing him away, and not him who did not have time for you anymore. And you knew that Joe felt bad about it, the same way you did, and that in itself made things worse again.

So after about two months you actually caught yourself wishing that maybe you should just stay away from him completely, make a clean cut, break your own heart and forget about him.

As if he had sensed your decision, Joe started searching contact again. For a while you had gone pretty separate ways, even during break time at school, but all of a sudden he started appearing at your locker again, and when he dropped down next to you during lunch, you felt your heart jump into your throat once again.

“Mashed potatoes are the worst here,” he complained, not even bothering to say hello, but you did not mind, you knew he had a hard time with stuff like that, “this isn’t food, this is… I don’t even know… you could probably use it as cement or something.”

You laughed quietly. Oh how much you had missed Joe’s stupid commentary about the disgusting mashed potatoes that were served in the school.

“You don’t have to eat it, you know,” you teased him, ignoring the paper-like taste of the grey mash, and eating a spoon full.

“And starve? Do the school a favour by not terrorizing the teachers anymore? No, thanks.” He too laughed and started eating, chewing around on the mashed potatoes. “Yay, yummy.”

“Yeah, torture yourself and chew it. Great, well done,” you joked sarcastically.

Your bickering continued, and for a few precious minutes it felt like you never had distanced yourself. That was until a somewhat familiar, blonde haired boy turned up. You knew Patrick attended the same school as Joe and you, but before Joe had introduced him to you as his band mate, you had never noticed him. He was shy, quiet, but witty, and not harmless at all when he spoke, even though he looked like an angel.

“Hey Joe,” he greeted, rather awkwardly, throwing a glance into your direction. “Hey, (y/n).”

You gave him a little smile and a wave, and Joe grinned widely.

“Trick! Come sit with us!”

The way Patrick shuffled from one foot to the other, his gaze shortly flickering through the room, his fingers too tight around the tablet with his food, made you suddenly think that you had never really seen him with anyone else other than Joe since they had started the band. Actually, as long as you could think back, you had never seen Patrick with friends. Was he as lonely as you were without Joe?

“If that’s okay?”

You did not realise the question was directed at you, until you looked up, and found Patrick looking at you. Suddenly you felt like you had learned a lot more about Patrick, and quickly you nodded.

“Yes, yes, sure! Sit down!”

Much to your relief the conversation did not start revolving around the band immediately, and instead you talked about English Literature Class and about the upcoming Spanish test. Only when the bell rung for the first time, signalling there were only five minutes left until the next lesson, the topic changed.

“So see you tonight?”

The three of you had gotten up, and taken away your tablets, when Patrick eventually brought up the band.

“Yeah sure,” Joe nodded, “we still got so much practicing to do ‘till Saturday.”

“Definitely,” Patrick laughed, “You too?”

“Me too what,” you asked confused.

“Are we seeing you tonight?”

Patrick seemed to have warmed up to you over the past twenty minutes, and you really appreciated it, but shook your head anyway.

“I don’t wanna get in the way,” you explained, and Patrick shrugged.

“Okay, see you!”

And with that he had hurried off into the direction off his next class.

“You’re not in the way, you know,” Joe told you seriously, obviously still thinking about what you had said.

“Oh, I don’t know, I-“ yeah, you what? You did not want to tell Joe that you felt like his friends did not like you very much, that would not have been fair. “I just don’t feel like it. Also, what’s on Saturday?”

Joe furrowed his brows, as if he was considering to further discuss your excuse, but then he decided against it.

“We’re playing our first show, I totally forget to tell you,” he remembered, “you need to come, (y/n), please?”

For a moment you thought about it. You had nothing to do on Saturday, so technically you could go, but then again your parents would have to approve. As if Joe had guessed your worries he continued talking.

“I can drive you home afterwards, that’s absolutely no problem, in case your parents worry,” he hesitated for a moment, “I just really want you there.”

He had stopped in his steps and turned to you, making you stop too.

“I- I’ll think about it,” you answered, taking slightly aback by the last thing he had added.

“Okay, yeah, but… just- I’d be happy to have you there.”

~*~

The dive bar was not very crowded that time of the night, and honestly you were surprised there were even this many people. Most seemed older than you, probably coming here regularly, not knowing about the bands that were going to play.

You had decided not to tell Joe you were showing up, and instead to surprise him. It was confusing, finding your way through the room, since the stage was on ground level, and even though there were not too many other people you still had a hard time making out the stage before being able to make your way over. It seemed like you were just in time, finding a place close to where you assumed Joe would play, when the band walked on.

You could tell how nervous they all were, Patrick fiddling around with his guitar, and Joe not even looking up at you. Pete seemed to recognize you though, because he sent you a big smile, making you think maybe they did not dislike you quite as much as you had always told yourself they would.

The first strum of bass and drums made the room vibrate, and even though you had only been to a few of the rehearsals, you immediately recognised the song. Joe still did not seem to have spotted you, but soon you were too focused on the music. Only when Pete made a short announcement between two songs, while everyone was catching their breaths, Joe finally seemed to spot you. His eyes grew wide as they met yours, and a huge grin spread over his face that did not disappear until the last note rang through the room.

As soon as the band was done playing, they started packing away the stuff they had brought themselves, quickly making space for the next band. Seeing Patrick struggle with his guitar, the cables and the pedalboard he had tried to carry under his arm, you quickly pushed past a few people and took hold of the board. Confused he turned to look at you, but grinned when he saw that it was you, who had come to his rescue.

“You turned up,” he laughed, making his way outside, you following close behind, making sure no cables were pulled out of the pedals you were carrying.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” you answered, pleasantly surprised his initial stiffness from a few weeks ago seemed to have molten away.

“You really should’ve told Joe though, he wouldn’t shut up about you,” Patrick winked, leading you through a door and outside into a back street, where a couple of cars were parked, one of which apparently belonging to the band, because they started piling their instruments into it.

“It was a surprise,” you told Patrick, putting down the pedalboard in the van, next to where he placed his guitar.

Before Patrick had a chance to answer anything, you were suddenly engulfed in a bear hug from behind, and lifted of your feet. It was strange, because before your brain even had time to panic, you had identified the person already as your best friend, who nuzzled his nose into your neck, carrying you a few steps away from the van.

“You made it, you came,” he cheered before he put you back down to your feet.

You turned around to him, fully intending to make a stupid joke and gently shove him, but before you had time to do so, Joe had taken hold of your face and pulled you in for a kiss that knocked all air out of your lungs. For a moment you were frozen, not fully comprehending what was going on, but once realisation settled in, you relaxed into his touch an leant in, pulling Joe closer to yourself, one of your hands carefully coming to rest on his arm, the other sneaking up to his neck.

Much to your dismay you ran out of air a lot quicker than you liked, and you had to pull away panting, only now feeling the burning blush that was rising on your cheeks. When you looked at Joe, he was blushing too, and both of you giggled happily, making you shake your head slightly.

“I’m really happy you came to see us play,” Joe finally managed to stutter out, making you chuckle.

“Didn’t come to see the band, I came to see you,” you corrected, and watched in amusement how he blushed even more, this time in embarrassment.

“Well, anyway, I mean-“ Joe continued stuttering, fully aware that you were watching him with a fond smile on your face, before you shut him up with a quick kiss on the lips.

“I like you a lot,” you confessed, making him look at you with widened eyes.

“You… I- I was about to say that,” he protested.

You laughed, trying to turn away from him, but he still had his arms wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him.

“Go out with me,” he whispered in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine.

You nodded, but before you were able to answer, Pete interrupted the moment, and made you painfully aware that the others had probably seen every second of your confessions.

“Hey lovebirds, when you’re done, we’d like to get out of the cold and go home. Pizza over at my place, you’re in?”

Joe and you shared a quick glance before you both nodded.

“We’re in,” Joe declared, taking your hand and leading you over to the van.

You climbed inside, taking a seat between Patrick and Joe, who immediately wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

Pete took a look at you from through the rear mirror, and grinned a wicked smile.

“Hey (y/n), if you break his heart, I’ll-“

“You’ll break my bones, fair enough,” you laughed.

Pete nodded seriously before looking at Joe.

“Same goes for you mate,” he declared, making everyone laugh.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Joe joked, “and now drive, I want pizza.”

#joe trohman x reader #joe trohman x reader fluff #joe trohman fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #joe trohman imagine #fall out boy imagine #fluff #high school au #high school

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mvssmallow · 5 years ago

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Memento Vivere

Part XI

Masterlist

In his Real Life, the one where he lives alone in a high rise apartment that record company money paid for, he’d either wake up alone or with people he has no intention of seeing again, much less make small talk with in the morning. If it’s high profile enough, his manager can threaten them with signing NDAs on their way out. It’s not his problem beyond the doorway.

When he’s hungry, he eats. When he wants to play video games, he does. When he wants to go out, hit a bar, hit a club, he throws on his leather jacket and grabs his credit card. His manager and team are permanently hovering but they know that they go where he goes. It’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission and he knows he’s everyone’s meal ticket so what’s the worst that could happen? Nobody asks questions, he doesn’t offer answers.

But that’s not how all the Jiwons live.

Some Jiwons can’t do anything with getting clearance from an entire army of people, including one who can’t even talk yet.

And that’s how he finds himself now, crouched on the floor helping Minji with the velcro tabs on her Mickey Mouse sneakers and trying to figure out why Hanbin’s packing two backpacks for them when they’re just taking the kids to the Zoo.

Snacks. Water. Sunscreen. Money. A spare change of clothes for both kids. All of Jae’s baby supplies and a camera.

Okay, that’s standard.

But then there’s a whole other black backpack with headache tablets, allergy tablets, a small first aid kit, alternate snacks in case the other options get rejected and spare adult t-shirt and hoodie.

Anyone would think that they were going to Antarctica and not a couple minutes into town.

One of Minji’s Snoopy plushies is poking out of ‘his’ backpack and he doesn’t even remember it being there two seconds ago.

“Er, Hanbin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do we have to take Snoopy to the Zoo?”

Hanbin looks up from where he’s adjusting Jae’s stroller. “Because I don’t feel like dealing with another tantrum today.”

“Will she even play with it-”

“Don’t you remember what happened last time?”

No he doesn’t. He wasn’t even here last time.

But Hanbin continues on, not even pausing for an answer because, he realises with crushing guilt, the Hanbin here doesn’t expect him to remember anything important.

“She got tired and scared from the snake display and cried for like 15 minutes until we got her a new plushy.” Hanbin recounts without stopping his stroller adjustments. “We’re not getting her a new plushy every time she freaks out. She can have Snoopy.”

“Oh.”

Hanbin straightens up and rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Oh. You think she’s not going to try it again? I’ve got this kid figured out.”

“You make her sound like she’s an evil mastermind.”

“And this is why she plays you so easily.”

He feels like laughing at the melodramatics but Hanbin’s furrowed brows, pursed lips and accusatory tone has him thinking otherwise.

“Sorry.”

“Huh?” There’s a surprised lilt and comically big eyes staring at him.

Even when they were kids meeting for the first time, he always thought Hanbin’s eyes got too big whenever he was surprised by something. Not quite doe eyes. Not quite Bambi. But pretty close. It’s memories like that that really punches him in the gut when he least expects it.

“Um, sorry? I guess. I should probably be more tough with her?” His voice is wobbly and unsure, it sounds nothing like how a Dad should sound. Hanbin’s going to figure all his lies out in 3, 2, 1.....

“Yeah....okay.”

It comes out quietly, calmly, appreciatively and relieved. He really doesn’t want to think about how the Jiwon here treats this Hanbin at all. Not when he himself, a total selfish idiot on his best day, is doing the bare minimum and somehow hasn’t fucked everything up. How much worse is the Real Dad Jiwon?

There’s a dark raincloud following him around everywhere here and he’s had enough of it. Just for one second, he wishes Hanbin would be happy. Not Pretend-Happy-for the sake of Everyone else but Real-Happy-Just-For-Himself.

“Isn’t it a bit hypocritical that we’ve got so many plushies for Jae though?” He jokes to lighten the mood.

Please work. Please work. Don’t get pissed.

Hanbin’s face visibly softens and he shrugs, maybe smiling a little. “He’s the baby. He can have whatever he wants.”

Right on cue, Jae babbles out at the mention of his name and the word ‘baby’.

“See? He agrees with me.”

“Of course he would. You let him have everything.”

“As if you don’t.”

“Well, he is the baby.”

“You do this every time.” Hanbin says with an amused shake of his head.

“Do what?”

“Act like you’re surprised about how much baby stuff we need.”

“He’s so small! Why does he even need that much stuff?”

“I don’t know Jiwon, he’s your kid, why don’t you ask him why he needs his bear and duck toys everywhere he goes?”

“Maybe he just wants to be prepared.”

“Because you never know when a bear situation will arise.” Hanbin replies in a mock serious tone.

And then the weirdest thing happens; they both laugh.

It’s nice.

But then-

“HURRY UP DADDY!”

Yeah, okay. Then there’s that.

****

The day turns out nice.

Weirdly, exhaustingly, overwhelmingly nice.

It’s somewhere between the Polar bear enclosure and Tiger cave that he forgets he’s pretending to be a dad and somehow feels like he is one.

“Daddy? Up?” Minji asks, sweet as can be all the sudden, tugging on his sleeve before holding both arms up at him.

As soon as he bends down, she’s already climbing onto his shoulders with practiced ease and a terrifying amount of trust that he really doesn’t deserve from any of them. He grips her ankles tightly as she yells out tiger commentary at the top of her lungs. There’s a young couple next to them smiling and a slightly older one laughing at the, “Look Daddy! The tiger knows how to swim!”

It takes him a few seconds to recognise the warmth in his chest. He hasn’t felt it in a long time.

Pride.

They think Minji is his daughter. But she’s not. Hanbin should get credit for this.

When he looks over, Hanbin is already looking back at him with an easy smile that he wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

Yeah, that’s really really nice.

And maybe because things are going too well, his dark raincloud decides to swoop in again. The building migraine suddenly throbbing behind his eyes and no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, the grimace hits his face at the worst time.

“Hey, you okay?” Hanbin asks him, reaching up to lower Minji to the ground despite her protests. “The tiger’s gone over there now Min, go look.”

It distracts her long enough for Hanbin to peer worriedly at his face.

“I’m...okay.” He waves the concern off, hoping the movement to comes across as casual. “Just a migraine.”

“Okay.” Hanbin echoes, not sounding convinced at all. “It’s probably time for lunch anyway. Let’s go find a place to sit down.”

They end up on a shady patch of grass near the duck pond and as soon as he sits down, Hanbin is holding out a bottle of water and two Advils. He takes them wordlessly, still marvelling at how one person can change so much in one lifetime.

There’s a gentle breeze through his hair as he sits on the picnic rug and when he closes his eyes, just for a second, he can hear Hanbin talking to both his kids in that patiently gentle way that still floors him.

“Oh no, I left Jae’s dinosaur snacks in the car.”

He’s already standing up. “I’ll go get them.”

“No, I’ll go. You’ve got a migraine. Just stay here and watch the kids.”

He shakes his head, the migraine is still there but he could do with a walk right now. “It’s better you watch them. I’ll go, it’s easier.”

And God, he really wishes he hadn’t said that.

Because next to their Honda, was that Angel-Satan guy leaning against a familiar black Jaguar. His stomach drops so fast that he completely forgets about his migraine altogether.

“YOU!” He hisses. “What are you doing here?”

“Welfare check.” The guy says casually, shrugging and adjusting the dark black sunglasses on his nose. “So, how’s things Jiwon?”

Something about the casual sunny disposition irritates him and he can barely hold it in.

“Listen, I know you know something about what’s going on here, so can you just-“

Angel (it’s what he’s started calling this weirdo in his head), just rolls his eyes but stays exactly where he is.

“You like it here?”

“What?”

“Do you like it here? This family little set up you’ve got?”

“Yeah, it’s....alright,” He starts, caught off guard by the question and unsure how to answer something like that now. “What’s that got to do with anything? Just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

“Just alright?”Angel echoes, tone disappointed and condescending. “Typical.”

“What?”

“Are you always this dense? Seriously?” Angel sneers now, crossing his arms in a way that’s threatening despite his smaller stature. “Actually, don’t answer that. I already know you are. It’s the whole reason you’re here to begin with.”

“I’m not dense! I get it! I know this isn’t right!” He snaps, running a tired hand through his hair. “This isn’t even my life. I’m not crazy. I’m a rapper, I live in Seoul, I have-“

“An album coming out, a girl and two guys you owe dates to, a manager who doesn’t really care about you as long as you’re on the charts and a family you rarely talk to. Empty chairs at empty tables and all that jazz.” Angel finishes with a wave of his fingers. “Yeah I know all about your other life, moron.”

He stumbles back, shocked by the truth for some reason, and it’s only when his hip hits the fucking Honda that he remembers Jae’s dinosaur snacks.

“I need to-“

“They can wait.”

“No, I need to get back. They’ll wonder where I am.”

Angel shakes his head, pointing to the very eerily still world around them. There’s a few families in the car park but they all frozen in mid motion.

“What did you do?”

“What does it look like?” Angel says. “It’s just suspended reality. So we can have our little chats without people thinking you’re nuts.”

“Is this real? Is this an alternate reality?”

“Something like that.”

He wasn’t expecting a real answer but that one sounds even worse.

“Why am I here?”

“To fix your mess.”

“What mess? Fix what?”

“I can’t tell you that. You can leave here when you figure that out for yourself. That’s how this works.”

“What about my other life? What about-“

“Suspended, for now.” Angel says, pushing off the Jaguar to stand next to him. “That sad little life will still be waiting for you when you’re done here.”

“What about the guy here? Me? Future me. Is it me right? I’m their dad right? Not some other guy?”

Angel smiles at the sudden panic in his voice. “Yeah it’s you. I mean, have you even seen your son lately? He looked like your twin even before he was born.”

He leans heavily against the Honda behind them, overwhelmed again but not in a good way.

“Do they know? That I’m not their real dad that usually lives here?” He asks quietly, as if the kids could even hear him from here. “Is this gonna mess them up too? Jae’s just a baby.”

“Ah. So now you’re asking some questions of relevance.” Angel says with soft pleased expression. “Too bad I can’t answer it.”

He wants to be angry but now he’s tired, the fight is gone and he just really wants answers.

“You can’t tell me anything? Not even who are you are or why you even know all this about me? No tips? Suggestions?” He chuckles bitterly, hoping Angel might spare him some sympathy.

“Do you really call me Angel in your head?”

“What? How do you know that?”

“I can read your mind, dumbass.” Angel says with a wide grin. “Anyway, No. I’m not allowed to tell you much else but you wouldn’t be here right now if you hadn’t messed up in your real world. Don’t make the same mistakes twice, that’s my tip to you. The rest is for you to figure out.”

Mistakes?

Which ones?

He’s made so many.

“Oh and Jiwon? The name isn’t entirely inaccurate even though it’s unoriginal as hell.” Angel adjusts his sunglasses again and then he’s gone, like a weird memory lost in the familiar roar of the Jaguar.

He’s not sure how long he stands there leaning against the Honda and breathing heavily. It takes a few good minutes before he slides back into the noise and activity of the world around him. It takes him three attempts to unlock the car door and find Jae’s dinosaur snacks.

“Feeling better?” Hanbin asks when he gets back.

It’s just a simple question but there’s Minji in her yellow overalls and Jae reaching for the T-Rex biscuits and Hanbin’s soft concern and a space on the red picnic rug that they saved for him.

This is more than just ‘alright’.

“Yeah, I’m good now.”

And it’s then that he realises: his migraine is gone.

#memento vivere #it's not THAT bad #approach bravely Pi Club #nothing to fear #since it's been AGES #you might want to go back and read chapter 10 again #for orientation #i sometimes forget where we are ....#sorry i edited it again #tumblr keeps messing up the draft-saving option

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amwritingmeta · 6 years ago

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MCM Comic Con London

Heyyyy, my loves!

I went to my first ever Comic Con on Sunday. I know! First ever?? How could this be? What did you make of it? Did you hug a Storm Trooper? Did you get lost in this huge enormous vast building with huge enormous vast rooms filled with huge enormous vast groups of people? Did you pet the TARDIS? Did you meet RAPUNZEL? DID YOU SEE DEADPOOL?? DARTH VADER?? Did you make a friend? Did you dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?? Do tell!!

Alrighty, then! (I’m afraid I’m going to prove a huuuuuge disappointment) (but there’s Misha panel commentary further down m’kay?)

So, here’s what I learned about myself from visiting Comic Con: I like small, intimate spaces with assigned seating.

Yeah. I know. Told you that you’d be disappointed.

It’s basically why I haven’t been to Comic Con before tbh. I knew I’d enjoy milling about and looking at merchandise and graphic novels and oh the fan art and seeing the TARDIS (I did see her but I did not pet her) and R2D2 (he moved around and talked to people and everything) *feelings* and passing Darth Vader in the hallway (true story) and just being in a space filled with people nerding out together like YES. My heart was very full.

But.

(oh here it comes)

My nerdy heart is pretty much sequestered by SPN. While I enjoy the original Star Wars very, very much because epic (obviously) and have enjoyed Doctor Who (on and off) and while I’m a big GoT fan (yes I shall remain so thanks to the books never mind what they did on those final two episodes of the show but also do not get me starts on what they fucking even DID) and I fucking love Disney and anime and animation of any kind, and have a huge respect and interest for the artistry of graphic noveling, that’s just not my world.

(I do want to start reading graphic novels though and I’ve been so close to ordering the BtVS ones but... anyone have solid suggestions or advice on where to start, hit me up in DM) (I’ve read a few where the art has been unspeakably gorgeous and just mh!)

But because I’m not deep in anything even approaching a multi-fandom attitude, they just don’t grab at me, you know?

So though I’m so fucking happy that I went - truly am (and nope I did not dress up and though I know I’d enjoy it because who wouldn’t enjoy dressing up as Kahlan from Legend of the Seeker? End of the day, the dressing up is more fun when going with a group of people...) (anyway) - it’s not quite my cuppa. That being said, if Misha comes again next year *dirty* then I’m there. I mean, it’s one tube ride from my place. How the fuck could I not?

Okay, before those three sentences make me say things I’ll regret in the morning, let’s talk about The Panel!

I’m actually going to open with something that Misha kind of threw out there in the middle of the panel because it made me so excited: he may direct in S15! Ahahahah yes please! I really hope he gets to!

Now, what else?

Highlights for me were:

Him talking about the fandom in his warmest tones, which is something he does on the regular, but he spoke of the positivity of the intensity of our community and how he thinks it’s been really cool to be a part of it and to do charitable work together (hundreds of thousands of volunteer hours and millions of dollars into worthy causes over the years, so kudos, guys, kudos) It’s a wonderful, surreal phenomenon. *his words* *and so very true* (and we all know this is how he feels, but it’s always lovely for him to restate it)

Ruth sending a video message and prompting Misha to talk about when Amara carved the I Am Coming message into Cas’ chest (and Misha thinking Lucifer carved the message and promptly dismissing us correcting him) *snortlaugh* Has everyone heard this story? Because I actually hadn’t. That Misha was making corresponding noises and facial expression to really convey the message and the only thing was that the top brass at the CW were conducting their yearly set visit and were, in fact, standing at the monitor watching him. *MCM audience laugh track* *aw Misha*

Talking about how close the cast is and how much they enjoy JiB, and how they laugh themselves into shape in the Green Room every year. Admittedly the six pack is a lie, but the aching stomach muscles are a truth. *not jealous because the rest of us are having Just As Much Fun In Our Corner* >.>

When asked what he’ll miss most about the show: the fun they have on set and the people, including the crew, since they all know each other so well and have grown up together. But also he’ll miss the Supernatural community. He knows it won’t go away immediately, but, as these things go, it will dwindle. He’ll miss the fire and intensity that is there when the show is on the air.

Which is fair, because there will be a dropping off, there will be a slowing down, it’s inevitable, but I honestly can’t see this family ever just dispersing entirely. And I almost wanted to get up there and suggest to him that they consider keeping the JiB torch burning, because giving this community of ours a few set points of warmth each year where people (if they so choose) get to interact with them while also getting to reunite with people we don’t otherwise get to see often and to have those points of warmth to aim for and gather around is a sure-fire way to keep the flame alive. Right? I’m not expecting them to continue doing the con circuit because omfg no, but to have one or two points a year...

Anyway.

Misha trying to do a Scottish accent makes him sound like a leprechaun with a lisp. *ehehe*

Misha telling us that the writers gave them the option to draw out the story for another two-three seasons, or land it in one kick-ass final season, and they all chose one kick-ass final season, which makes me so happy for them, that they get to finish strong and on their terms. It’s so well-deserved.

(I think I’m just going through the panel moment-by-moment at this point) (the panel was apparently the highlight)

Him talking about The Adventurous Eaters Club - the cookbook he’s writing with Vicki that I cannot wait to read, tbh, because I do believe kids often say no at the dinner table because they’re trying to stay in control of the situation, rather than them not really wanting to eat, and as a grown-up, recognising this and relenting control and allowing them free reign to be a part of building their dinner from the ground up and getting them excited about food and understanding the process of actually creating a meal is so damn healthy. Well, if that’s the objective of the cookbook! Just what I’m taking from the premise, but, hands against heart, I adore them both.

Talking about his favourite vehicles for Cas and saying that he’d love for Cas to get a smart car and squeeze Sam into the passenger seat and omfg PLEASE yes. *the imagery is so e n t i c i n g*

Going full-meta and talking about Cas’ travails going to get the fruit of life without his wings in S13, looking up a flight on Expedia, sitting squished into the middle seat, saying no thank you to food, getting through customs with that bag of fruit, probably getting held up. (quite impressive actually because this happened more than a season ago and clearly he’s given the story gap some thought) (and he remembers) (astonishing)

*^^^ sarcasm, guys* *sarcasm* :)

If Cas gets to be happy, he will die (my addition: unless he’s, you know, human) :P

Cas’ wings are rainbow (and I’m immediately thinking of them almost like peacock *shhhh don’t even start* feathers that shift tone in the light so that they shimmer rather than are divided up into single colour feathers in a rainbow pattern) (wow I took that seriously af) (but mh gorgeous wings!)

Maison is a goddamn rockstar. *not literally but internally* :)

Okay, so that’s the panel done. And dusted. *sparkly*

And then I met up with a friend of a friend who I’d actually met briefly at JiB - her name is Katie - and I stood in line with her as she waited for Misha autos and I met the loveliest Scottish bloke named Oliver, mostly because I desperately needed to charge my mobile and just said out loud “Does anyone have a mobile charger” and the blessed man turned around and said “Yes, I have one”, so he lent me his mobile charger and was gushing over his photo-op with Misha (it really is the most adorable photo ever) and Oliver was entirely flustered with happiness and just *my heart strings* and then he fucked off and didn’t come back for his charger!

He just disappeared! Without as much as a by-your-leave!

So we waited. And waited. It was terrible. Having to stand there. Not knowing. Okay, kidding, but we did wait and wait and tried to look for him, but he just didn’t come back.

But just now, ten minutes ago, he followed me on Twitter!! I just accosted him going OMG IT IS YOU IS IT NOT! Do I have your charger?? And it is he and now I don’t have to have a guilty conscience anymore, though I did ease it by thinking that he was the one who literally effed the fuck off and didn’t return. Anyway. What drama, huh? Guess that’s Comic Con, for you. And I got to add the resolution! *sweet*

It was a grand old indoor day and then we went down to the river for food and lots of alcoholic really-really-tasty beverages and good company.

The End.

#I mean not really because for ever ending there comes a new beginning #(what?)#(I LIKE it even though it's sentimental and all that)#(because it's true)#:)#mcm comic con #misha collins #my stuff #rainbow feathers are a thing #and like if the light hits them just so the wings look one colour #then another colour #then another like a rippling of gorgeousness #technically and canonically I suppose his wings are white but #fuck that shit #he's a seraph not an archangel after all #omg omg is it october yet???

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lindoig4 · 5 years ago

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Vancouver

The train (that is apparently known for always running late) arrived in Vancouver at 4am instead of 8am. We got up at around 6:30 and had a leisurely breakfast because the station didn’t open until 8am for us to collect our baggage. We caught a cab to the hotel, to be told that we couldn’t check in until 4pm! Never heard that anywhere else - the latest we had heard anywhere before was 2pm.

Anyway, we left our luggage in the baggage room and bought tickets for the HOHO bus - at a 30% discount just for that one day! Lucky us.

It was a bit drizzly, but they get rain on more than 250 days a year so perhaps it was not unexpected. We rode the bus around the full circuit and stayed on for another half circuit until we got back to Gastown where we hopped off for a really nice lunch in a hole in the wall place along the main street close to the Steam Clock - a really fascinating piece of historical equipment.

The commentary on the bus was excellent: entertaining and informative and the sights were really great. The huge Stanley Park and beach areas were particularly beautiful and the whole experience was miles ahead of the equivalent HOHO in Toronto - and so was the city!

By the time we had enjoyed a slow lunch, the rain had almost stopped so we strolled down to the waterfront where we watched a seal frolicking around, presumably for our entertainment. Two huge cruise ships we berthed there so we wandered around the terminal area and reminded ourselves how much we would hate to be on such a big ship - and these were only about a third as big as the massive floating cities that have been put into service in the past few years.

We finished the second circuit on the HOHO bus and returned to our room and ate a very nice, albeit very expensive, meal in the restaurant. I have been hanging out for something spicy so I thoroughly enjoyed a Vindaloo and we shared a bottle of really excellent local cab sav. Perhaps surprisingly, the Canadian reds are really worth looking out for!

We reckon that Vancouver is a very attractive city, vibrant and progressive, with lots of life and proud of its identity and achievements. It had a good feel about it and perhaps the moody drizzle set the scene for us in the morning before a bright and sunny afternoon. All in all, a good day and we were delivered back to the hotel just as the reservations desk opened!

Monday was an adventure day! We went on a harbour lunch cruise and although we might have been able to get to the starting point on our HOHO ticket (a lot of HOHO tours give you two days for the price of one), timing was a bit tight so we took a cab through some more lovely moody mist and boarded our boat. I guess there were about 100 of us, but we were on the upper (enclosed) deck, right near the window and close to the door to the forward viewing deck outside - the best seats in the house I think. There was a bit of commentary, but not at all invasive, and the food was excellent too. We chatted with people on either side of us and they introduced us to Caesars - a bit like spicy Bloody Marys on steroids. I didn’t think they were that alcoholic, although they said they usually were, but they were certainly delicious and something we might try to make at home.

The scenery was spectacular. The surrounding mountains were often lost in the clouds, but they were awesome and we passed several islands crowded with huge trees and nesting places for birds, mainly gulls and Canada Geese. Parts of the shoreline were festooned with mansions, often owned by celebrities unknown to us uncivilised Aussies (I had heard of Steve McQueen though) but there were lots of exotic big hideaways set into the forest and only accessible by boat. Great for people like Howard Hughes - another name even a pleb like me recognised. The cruise went along the northern side of the main harbour for several kilometres and into Indian Arm, a delightfully remote stretch hemmed in by mountains and forests. The rain came and went a few times, drizzles and serious showers, interspersed with short periods of bright sunshine. The end of the cruise was at Silver Falls where the bow was edged in to within a metre of the shore and everyone crowded in to take photos of a great little waterfall - not quite Niagara, but pretty anyway.

We then returned to the dock where we had boarded by following the southern shore, again with a bit of interesting commentary. It was a lovely 4 hours in wonderful surroundings - but then came the adventure segment.

We decided to walk along the Harbourside Gardens to the place we wanted to catch the HOHO bus home again and out in the middle of nowhere, it rained. I am not talking about a huge flooding deluge, but REAL rain such as even the locals who are used to heavy downpours had not seen before. It pelted down and despite hiding out in the trees in our raincoats, we were drenched in seconds. We decided that we couldn’t get ant wetter so kept walking another 100 metres to where we could get into the basement of the Convention Centre and tried to reorganise our backpacks a bit. Alas, too late! Everything was already wet and there was a pool of water in the bottom of mine.

We ended up walking along a service road under the Convention Centre with cars and trucks whizzing by, water pouring out of broken drains above, below and beside us, and great gushing fountains metres high from flooded stormwater drains underneath the road. There were big pools of water everywhere and our shoes were soon full. A guy in a car eventually stopped and told us how to get into a mall from the back door and we finally made it out to the main road and caught the last HOHO for the day. But wait, there’s more........

There were a few other drowned rats like us on the bus and everyone was talking about the amazing deluge, but off we went on the circuit back to our hotel. The circuit included Stanley Park and we took a slightly different route at one point and I saw a cute sign at a roadway near a small bridge – ‘Load limit 13 tons, cyclists excepted!’ Not sure how many cyclists would need to divert, but the bus was certainly over 13 ton. A kilometre or so up the road, a Police car was blocking the r oad because a huge tree had succumbed in the storm and fallen across the road making it impassable. Quite a few cars were coming up behind us and they were all able to be diverted back along the side road to the 13 ton bridge, but ours and another bus were stuck with nobody guessing how many hours it would be before they could clear the road.

After quite some time, a couple of cops came on motorbikes and escorted the buses back down the one-way road we had come along. There were still cars coming up the hill and several times, they blocked the corners the buses had to negotiate and the cop had to turn them around or reroute them, to allow us to get through. It was quite an adventure. Some people were probably stranded at other stops our bus couldn’t reach and we had to take a different route so saw things that we hadn’t seen on the official route. By now it was after 7.30 and the bus is supposed to finish at 6.30 so once the other passengers alighted where they needed to go, we just told the driver to skip the rest of the route and take us to our hotel by the easiest way she could. We had started to dry out a little by then, but once we got to our room, we converted it into a Chinese laundry for a bit over 24 hours and got everything almost dry - although I still put damp socks on this morning 2 days later!

We were supposed to go on the seaplane Mail Run next day, a flight to a few islands dropping off and picking up mail and parcels, but I had lots of cramps during the night (too long wearing wet cold shoes and clothes the day before) and Heather had a bad night with a very raw throat (same reason no doubt) so we rang them before 7am and cancelled it. They wanted to charge us a cancellation fee despite our documentation saying we could cancel up to 15 minutes before the flight with no penalty. As it happens, we hadn’t paid anything and they didn’t know our credit card details, so they were whistling Dixie anyway so we spent the day in our room recuperating.

We both blogged and Facebooked, sorted and edited photos and I spent a few hours going through all by bird photos identifying some that I couldn’t ID before when I had no internet on the train I only added about 6 or 7, but it was a fun little job. We also had to do a complete repack once things were dry (and seal up those few items that weren’t) so we had a full day pottering in the room.

We had enjoyed our ‘to go’ meal the previous night after the storm so went out to the same area and bought a small selection of similar things for dinner and our 4am breakfast next day before catching the bus to Seattle and the train to San Francisco.

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letswritefuriously · 6 years ago

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PLEASE PLEASE REBLOG NOT JUST LIKE OTHERWISE NOBODY SEES IT AND I SPENT HOURS ON THIS. HOURS ON THIS WHEN I WAS 13, BUT HOURS NONETHELESS.

Okay so I wrote this month’s story at 13, so don’t judge. You can clearly see the difference in the writing style (You be the judge of what’s better, find my last story here. Or just go back to my third last post, if you can’t get the link).

Warnings: Possible trigger, attempted suicide, character death (again lol, it’s sort of a recurring theme in my stories okay, I’m going to attempt to have one without death soon), nightmares, dreams, visions, comas

This also had a word limit (f*** the word limit, am I right) so it’s a bit rushed at the end.

(I would LOVE to have constructive criticism, positivity and feedback of any form, so long as you’re not rude, because then I’ll probably cry).

Details

Arwen was on puppet strings, floating, flying through the air. It didn’t matter who was controlling her, because it was beautiful.

But it couldn’t last. She saw it – the black fraying at the edge of her vision. She knew what it meant but couldn’t recall it. She also knew that the floating was going to end soon. Arwen sighed. It always ended. But then she noticed the red blossoms. Not flowers, but blood.

She soared to the ground at lightning speed. Please no!

She wanted it to end now – she knew what was going to happen. A screech emanated behind her. She leapt forward, soaring twenty metres, the puppet strings aiding her. The air whooshed behind her, and she turned, but the creature had already gone. She jumped further, seeing a door ahead. It had appeared out of nowhere, but that made sense now, as she knew what this was; a dream.

Just as she reached the door, a hand grabbed her and imprisoned her, her outstretched hand a centimetre from the doorhandle. She shrieked and pivoted to shove it away, but it wasn’t a monster – it was a boy of about seventeen.

“Listen!” He said. “Wake up. Wake up now!”

“I’m trying! She protested, attempting to wrench her arm away from his.

“No. Wake up fully.” Another screech. “If you don’t wake up now, we’ll die.”

She glared at him. “But I don’t know who you are!” She cried.

“It doesn’t matter-” He broke off. “It’s too late. They’re here.” He looked her directly in the eyes and said, “I’ll be dead long before you wake up.”

And the monster’s claws pierced her heart.

Arwen jolted awake. Her heart was hammering. It’s only a dream. It hadn’t felt real – she knew that. She had been lying here, in her bed, the entire time. It’s only a dream.

9:00 found her at school. She stopped as her friend Kaya bounded over.

“Hey Arwen, what’s up?”

“Cool with me, I- “

“You’ll never guess what happened!”

Arwen sighed internally as she prepared to hear the latest hot gossip. Every other girl in the school was gossiping to her friends – all they cared about were celebrities. She liked Kaya, but she was so shallow!

“Someone had an affair with aliens?” She said sarcastically.

“No! Of course not! Honestly, you can be so thick sometimes! Anyway, these two hot celebrities – that you probably don’t know, you rock dweller – got married, but the guy was cheating! And the article was traumatising, I was crying...”

Arwen tuned out. There were more important things to worry about, like the maths test – she frowned. Was there a maths test? She checked her timetable. She didn’t even have maths. She turned to tell Kaya that something didn’t feel quite right, but the bell rang before she could. Thank goodness for that. She thought; Kaya’s blabber was over. Now I can get on with my day.

Arwen plonked down at a table with Kaya and buried her face in a sandwich to muffle her friend’s commentary of her Instagram. She looked up for a moment, and the sandwich dropped from her hands. She hadn’t been able to place her finger on it before, but now she knew what was wrong.

Like she had seen before, every girl was blabbering to her friends about the latest gossip. But what she hadn’t seen, was that they were all the same. Every single girl was a perfect copy of Kaya, and every girl talking back was the same identical girl wearing designer clothes.

They were all copies. The edges of everything turned white, and she couldn’t see any details. Mist covered the horizon. Something creaked, and Arwen whirled to see the dream boy next to her. “Wake up!” He yelled. “Wake up now!”

She gaped at him.

“I will be dead, long before you wake up!” He screamed.

Arwen sat bolt upright. She’d had many of these dreams lately; they began like a normal school day but became increasingly unrealistic until she realised she was dreaming, and the boy came and told her to wake up.

She walked into the kitchen to pour herself some cereal and stopped dead.

“It’s you!” She gasped. The boy had his feet kicked up on the table like he owned the place.

“Me.” He agreed. “I- “

“But you’re real!” She gasped, looking around wildly. It seemed like it was real; but then again, all the dreams did.

“I don’t have time for this!” He said. “You’ve been asleep too long – you’ll die!” He looked at her meaningfully. “And I will too.”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Arwen pried. “Every time; wake up, I’m going to die. Why?”

“I don’t have time!” He cried. “Just wake up!”

“But I am awake! There’s enough details...” But she trailed off, noticing that they were disappearing rapidly. “But what do you mean? Every time I think I’ve woken up, it’s only another dream! And you’re there every time! How do I wake up? How will I know?”

“You wake up by seeing the detail. You wake up by knowing that it’s fake. I can help you. And you’ll know you’re awake when you- “

Arwen sat up rapidly, and nearly brained herself on the wall.

It was only a dream.

She pinched herself. The pain was real. The dream wasn’t.

She was in the kitchen, making breakfast, about to pour herself a bowl of cereal –

How did I get here? A moment ago, I was in my room... I don’t remember walking here. It’s almost like a dream... She gasped and scanned the room. Everything was perfectly ordinary, extreme details, there was nothing wrong-

My parents! In my dreams, they’re never here! And they’re not here now.

But the white streaks weren’t appearing. They just weren’t there. But the red streaks were. She shrieked.

“Help me!” She screamed. “Help!”

A shadow crossed into the room. It stole towards her and raised its claws, preparing for the kill.

She raised an arm, but it didn’t stop the claws from cleaving her head from her shoulders.

When she woke up, it was slowly this time. Her head hurt, and her vision was blurred.

“It’s the second time they’ve got you.” A voice said. “You need to wake up. Now.” The boy stood up. “You can’t let them kill you again – we’ll both die.” He sighed. “I don’t have time to explain, but you need to wake up.”

“How?”

He smiled. “I think you already know.”

Arwen woke up several more times, but nothing lasted long.

“Congratulations.” The boy said. “You only have to wake up one more time. Then you’ll really be awake. I- “

Glass smashed as a shadow burst through the window. The boy grabbed Arwen and pulled her up out the door. The house disappeared; the world was a blanket of white. She sprinted ahead, and the boy followed. The dream was fading, but not fast enough. The shadow reached out and grabbed the first thing it found: the boy.

In seconds, he was on the ground. The shadow stood for a moment, as if savouring its victory.

The boy smiled. “I’ll be dead long before you wake up.”

And the dream vanished.

The world blinked its way into existence, and Arwen knew that this time, she was truly awake.

“Oh, thank God!” A voice sobbed, tears marring the words. Arwen recognised the voice.

“Mum?” The woman hugged her, and a man on Arwen’s other side was crying softly.

She was in a hospital bed, in... a coma ward?

Her mother nodded. “You were out for three months. It looked like you were going to die, and then he came.” She nodded towards a bed on the left, and it was then that Arwen heard the flatlining. Without even looking, she knew who it was. “After you overdosed, you were just getting worse and worse. The doctors worked away, and they said that soon you would be recovering. But you didn’t. You stayed asleep.

“But he came, like a miracle. And we don’t know how, but he said he could save you, and he did. The doctors argued, but we thought it could be our only hope. We insisted. He sat on the bed next to yours, and he asked the doctors to knock him out. They agreed, and within a day, you were already better. Another week, and here we are.” Tears streamed down her face. “We don’t know what he did, but he did something.”

“And he’s dead now.” Arwen said. Her mother nodded.

Arwen looked over at his bed. The machine was still flatlining.

Thank you. I will never give up again, I will never wish to die again. No matter how long it takes to recover, I will not give up.

And I will always look for the details.

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seventeen-scenarios-blog · 7 years ago

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[DRABBLE] Prince!Mingyu (G)

Request: When Mingyu comes home to see his significant other slow dancing with their eyes closed Requester: @brb2132 Genre: Fluff, royal AU Word Count: 1,622 Warnings: Cheesefest ahead, I hope you brought some chips to dip in.

A/N: If y’all can’t tell, my Mingyu swerve is still going on strong af and god do I LOVE seeing him in his prince outfit from Diamond Edge KDJLFSFGSG Hope you enjoy this!

wooed<3

And the left foot goes here, and… no no no, that can’t be right, my feet are all getting tangled up.

You slump in defeat against the velvet cushions of the couch. This simply isn’t working. You have been trying for the past couple hours or so, and you just can’t seem to get this damn thing right.

Hundreds of generations of heirs to the throne and I must be the first one that can’t get the most basics of ballroom dancing down, you think to yourself miserably, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material. You were never much of a royal anyway. You loved playing outside and playing swords with your brothers, but when it comes to more ‘refined’ activities -- as your mother described them -- you are as good as owning two left hands and feet.

A glance on the ancient grandfather clock fixed on your left tells you that it’s nearing 2am in the morning. You wondered if Mingyu’s done with his work in his study. At the thought of your fiancé, a tremor courses through your spine. God, you always get so nervous around him, and it really doesn’t help that you’re going to present yourself as future spouses, future rulers, to his kingdom in about fifteen hours.

You love Mingyu, you really do. Your kingdoms being close allies for centuries, you’ve visited his castle a lot and you practically grew up together as a result. Your parents had you both betrothed as children, and neither of you particularly minded this arrangement for you both were already so close.

Even as a kid, Prince Mingyu was nothing short of polite, mannerly and just downright loving. You’d even call each other “honey” as kids, much to the endearment and delight of the adults. In your schooling years, you both had the same teachers, and after your classes you’d go out and play in the courtyard together, catching whatever critters that caught your fancy. When you both came of age, your engagement went off without a hitch, and you really can’t wait to spend the rest of your life by his side.

Until you realised that it entailed you having to dance with him in front of hundreds upon hundreds of your subjects. Your personal instructor had looked upon you stumbling like an elephant on rampage in utter horror a mere hour into your first lesson a week ago. Though she had managed to give you a weak thumbs-up for assurance at the end of the day, it was unmistakable that she thinks you’re a lost cause.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

A simple thousand year old tradition and you’re contemplating about throwing your birthright to one of your four younger sisters. Hell, even your twin brother Seungkwan would make a better fiancé than yourself. At least he could handle a few steps around the ballroom.

“Oh god, what am I even thinking…” you grumble, balling the silken material of your pajamas in your hands. “I gotta do this. I can’t let Mingyu down.”

Swallowing down the niggling self-doubt at the back of your mind, you mustered the will to get back up on your feet once more. You reached over to the speakers and upped the volume by two bars in an attempt to drown out the sound of blood rushing up your neck to your ears, but that doesn’t stop the way heat flood your cheeks regardless.

You lift your right hand, cupping the air that would have been your fiance’s shoulder, and extend your left arm to your side to “hold” your partner’s hand. You can already imagine Mingyu right there in front of you, looking down at you with those eyes, shining and full of affection.

Damn. You have to make this perfect for him.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you let yourself immerse in the music. It’s no hip-hop or folk rock you’re used to listening, but you have to make do. You try to recall the words from your dance instructor, and you extend your right feet tentatively to your front. Your left follows suit, and you step backwards with your right again. An outside spin, then a twirl, then a bow...

Alright, you’re getting there. Closing your eyes, you try again, letting the “music take over your body”, in the words of your dance instructor. You feel your eyebrows furrow as you concentrate on the rhythm and footwork. In fact, you’re so engrossed that you didn’t hear the foyer doors open and shut.

Your eyes fly open and a strangled scream of alarm gets caught in your throat when someone clasps their hand over yours.

“Shh… shh… It’s just me, baby. It’s okay…” You immediately relax into Mingyu’s sturdy embrace once you recognise his voice. Your husband-to-be chuckles at your reaction, reaching over behind you to flip the speakers off.

“Oh god, Mingyu, you scared me,” you lightly scold him, giving him a light smack on his shoulder. “I thought you’d be going to bed at this hour.” He’s traded his princely formalwear for a simple silk robe and pants, but he still looks like an ethereal god to you.

“I could say the same to you. I came back to the bedroom and you weren’t there, so I figured you’d still be here.” He smooths the small tangles in your hair with his fingers. “It’s late, shouldn’t you be resting up for tomorrow night?”

“I just thought I could use a little more practice for the ball tomorrow, that’s all.”

His eyes visibly softens as he notices the shaking in your voice. “Nervous?” he asks, the hand that was in your hair sliding down to cup your cheek.

“Very,” you reply immediately. “The last thing I want to be remembered for before ascending the throne is to have embarrassed myself in front of the kingdom because I don’t know where to put my legs. You know what, my first decree as ruler is to abolish this dumb tradition so that my future generations of two-left-feets don’t have to suffer like this. I mean, we even have to wear corsets! What is this? The 14th century?!”

You had to stop to take a breath between your rapid-fire commentary. Your honest answer has your fiancé snickering. “What was that you said about future generations of two-left-feets?” he wonders impishly, and you sigh at his little implications. “You know, if they grow up to be anything like their dad, they probably won’t be struggling.”

“Oh, save your childish jabs for the insecure,” you roll your eyes, poking him in the shoulder. Mingyu pouts, rubbing the sore area. “You know, the word ‘tradition’ is what the adults use when they don’t remember the purpose of something,” he points out.

“But too bad we still have to go through with them…” you dejectedly tell him, slowly writhing your way out of his embrace. “I just have to hope your parents don’t get second thoughts about our betrothal after tomorrow.”

“All because of a silly dance? Nah, I doubt it. They’ll still love you.” You stifle a yelp when Mingyu pulls you back into his arms again, and tightens his hold even more. “Like how I still love you, two left feet and all.”

You manage a weak huff of amusement at his cheesiness, but your spine stiffens with resolve once again. “Tradition or not, I’m not leaving this room until I get this right. You should go back and get some sleep, Mingyu. You’re going to need it.”

The crown prince frowns at your stubbornness, knowing that it’s impossible to stop you once you set your mind to it. He had a lot of episodes from his childhood to prove it. He knows that there’s only one way to coax you out of this situation. He loosens his grip on your waist, only to slide his larger hands into your own. You look up at him, clueless.

“Well, I guess a little extra practice for me won’t hurt either. But we’ll leave once the clock strikes two, then it’s off to the kitchens for a good midnight snack, alright?”

Your eyes flutter shut in pure bliss as Mingyu presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “Alright,” you relent, and you’re greeted with Mingyu’s two rows of delighted pearly whites. “Let’s both hope I don’t end up stepping on your toes like last time, huh?”

“No worries, I’m well-protected this time.”

You both burst into laughter as Mingyu proudly brandishes his furry bunny slippers at you, and the music turns back on, filling the room once more.

He slowly and gently waltzes you across the marble floors. Your eyes darts down to make sure your feet are following the patterns you’ve mapped in your brain, but he bends his head down at you, catching your attention.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says again. “Tomorrow, it’s going to be about you and me. It will be just like now, two of us, alone, enjoying our time together. We’re not going to let anyone take our fun away, not the tradition, nor the public’s opinion. Got it?”

Utterly mesmerized, you can only swallow whatever’s in your already-dry throat and nod. You’ve known this man all your life; how he still manages to make you swoon every time is a mystery.

“And besides, if the people ever dare to make fun of you, we can always sentence them to d--”

“No, Mingyu.” You bop him on the head before you can finish his sentence. Ah, there’s the dork you fell in love with. His subsequent grin is brighter than the full moon outside, and as the clock strikes 2, Mingyu sweeps you off your feet, and you feel ready as ever for tomorrow.

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weconqueratdawn · 7 years ago

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Submission: Morcilla Extract - commentary request :)

(Submission from @theseavoices in response to this)

Hannibal watched him with a fond calculating warmth. Will recognised it as love, now. It was so good it hurt. Vicious and so, so tender.

Will looked at his plate. “How long can we do this?” he asked. “How long can I have this for?”

From the opposite side of the table, he felt an increase and then a release of tension. A swirl of something dark and brittle, and a decisive letting-go. “I want nothing to change,” Hannibal said. “You, however, seem certain that something must.”

Will slumped back in his chair. “Something will,” he said. “We have coalesced, gravity has shifted. It will continue to shift, until a new balance is found.”

“You’re afraid the balance won’t be in your favour.”

“I’m tired of thinking about it,” said Will. “Weighing up who is gaining and who is losing. If we’re to dance, then let’s.”

“Dancing requires a partner, not an opponent,” said Hannibal. “Is that what you see?”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “Sometimes.” He remembered Hannibal’s flushed skin under his palms, the heat of his body. “This afternoon, I thought about blood. I thought about flesh, your flesh. You felt so real. So human.”

Hannibal didn’t bother to keep his piqued curiosity hidden. He had no need to pretend anymore. “The body is a gift to one’s lover,” he said, after a beat of consideration. “A sacrifice to their pleasure, that yet receives pleasure in return.”

Will poked stubbornly at the last of his food. “I enjoy your pleasure,” he said. “I did today. It seems appropriate that I should witness it, cause it. That it should be mine. That it should always be mine.”

When he glanced up, Hannibal looked enraptured. Though physically unlikely they could manage much so soon, Will wondered if he would let himself be taken back to bed.

“And what about your pleasure?” Hannibal asked. “Can I make the same claim?”

“In a partnership you would,” Will said. “Give and take. What would you like to give, Hannibal, and what would you like to take?”

Hannibal stared at him with burning eyes. Will felt a spark of triumph. This was a dance indeed, though he wasn’t sure which kind. Even for him, the rules were never clear. He would always follow and never lead. Not for long, anyway.

He ducked his head, and softened his posture. It wasn’t a subtle manoeuvre but it didn’t matter. Hannibal would recognise his forfeit for what it was - a gesture of peace.

“Consider it a gift,” he said. “Next time.” Then he stood and began clearing away.

———-

I’d love to know your whole background thinking behind them in this fic - I found it very like the show, in terms of their ‘dance’

-info info info…

Oh dear, I can feel this getting long already :0

First things first – thanks for the curiosity and that major compliment there! Which leads me into your question about my background thinking when setting out to write this fic….

The short answer is I’m obsessed with the idea of Hannibal in love and trying to imagine what that might look like after they’ve both come to an understanding - here, particularly in relation to Hannibal’s cannibalism. Morcilla is my first real shot at this – it’s set at some point after Inosculation (which is all post-twotl torturous emotional fall-out in a Will-centric setting) so they’ve, essentially, dealt with some issues and settled down together by the time this fic begins.

A big question for fic-writers post-fall is whether Will has fallen in a Biblical sense, too – is he going out hunting with his new husband?? – and post-fall fics tend to deal with the necessary struggles around that. It’s mostly assumed that Will is somehow “out of danger” and that as Hannibal’s love object he’s safe from any further victimhood. That makes a lot of sense, of course, as we’re fic writers and we usually want them both to end up finding some kind of peace with each other.

But my brain couldn’t let the potential threat to Will lie – Hannibal’s motives and actions are extremely complex and changeable, even more so once strong emotions are added. Is it really possible that he could settle into cosy domesticity permanently and stop raising a certain amount of hell (at least the particular kind he directs at Will)? The answer is – I don’t know. But I thought it more than reasonable that Will should and would be thinking along these lines.

The passage you chose is the start of Will questioning this – this is why he asks “How long can I have this for?” Hannibal later introduces, obliquely, the main topic of the fic by stating that “The body is a gift to one’s lover.” Now, I maybe a little preoccupied by gift-giving and the cultural obligations it produces - I blame my anthropology studies for this – it fits their murky “dance” too well. Gifts are complicated things. So are bodies, and when we’re talking about Hannibal and bodies, the complications are far more diverse than they might be for you and I. When Will asks, “What would you like to give, Hannibal, and what would you like to take?” he’s wondering as much about Hannibal’s cannibalistic desires as he is about anything else. He’s asking, more or less: do you want to eat me?

This gets more explicit later on in the fic. Will, with the levels of calculation life with Hannibal necessitates, offers out a solution with the comment that this way Hannibal can have his cake and eat it (you can probably guess how from the title :D). I can hear some crying out at the suggestion that Hannibal might eat Will – that he loves Will too much, he needs his physical presence, and that after all their periods of separation he would have learned his lesson about the value Will has for him. And I completely agree – but the desire might still be there, and this is what Will is questioning (and then later – boldly? cleverly? stupidly?? – offering him a solution to). Will is as curious about Hannibal as Hannibal is about him and he wouldn’t be able to let this go without an answer.

I hadn’t written or thought very deeply about Hannibal’s particular brand of cannibalism before, and I was dying to. The general picture we get is of a predatory act, one founded on dominance and then carried out with extreme and ostentatious elegance. Clearly this kind of behaviour wouldn’t cut it for Will - he is and could not be Hannibal’s victim, in the sense of Hannibal’s historic pathology. If he is to be eaten by Hannibal, the circumstances would have to be very different and would have a very special significance for Hannibal.

I read up about cannibalism - sometimes it’s easy to forget it’s a real thing which exists in the real world :) - and was reminded that anthropologists distinguish between two main types: exocannibalism (the eating person outside of the community e.g. a celebration of victory over an enemy) and endocannibalism (the eating of a person inside the community, usually a family member and often related to mourning). Does that last one sound familiar? ;)

I find it *impossible* that both Will and Hannibal are not aware of the cultural implications of cannibalism and have not read about it extensively. Will must be well aware of the specific and unusual position he is in - as far as he knows (I’m assuming they haven’t discussed Murasaki) the only other other person Hannibal has loved he ate, as part of a traumatic childhood event which undoubtedly shaped his pathology. What are the odds on Will surviving that kind of love unscathed?

And that’s the point at which I started writing :)

I’ve still got submissions open should anyone else want to quiz me about a fic of mine and anon asks are always enabled. Doesn’t have to be a huge chunk - whatever you fancy!

#ask meme #hannibal #hannigram #wow long post #morcilla #my fic #answered #submission

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faunahudson · 4 years ago

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settle | self para

Who: Fauna Flanagan and Percy Flanagan with mentions of Rory Flanagan, Conor Flanagan and Sawyer Hudson Where: Belfast When: Feburary 2020 What: Fauna and Percy discuss his opinions on her future Warnings: emotional abuse, derogatory language, Percy Flanagan

It’s pouring with rain the night in February that her father comes to collect her from uni. It was an odd thing that in her adult life she’d begun to rely on lifts, since her and Rory had almost never been collected from school beyond primary. This had partially been because Percy had accused Mary of coddling them by doing so, but mostly because they liked the independence of walking or getting the bus. Fauna had always enjoyed the opportunity to read one of the many paperbacks that she kept crammed in the bottom of her bag. While Rory claimed to like the social aspect of the bus referring to him and Dobsy accusing Tired Pete in the year below of having a gay love affair with the bus driver because he always got off with an under twelves fare way into his teens. It also made people suspect them less of being Tories because their parents didn’t drive them, made them seem more normal. Fauna had liked it that way less reason for people to look at them, and with her headphones in she could ignore the commentary on her sex life that had always followed her back then.

It had been funny, appearing at uni in Belfast. Despite being the new girl things actually weren’t all that weird, she wasn’t ostracised the last way she had been during high school, everything was different in her new classes. In the weeks leading up to her first day there had been the bubble of fear that it would be like it had been in Dublin, that the videos would be found and the rumours would start up all over again. But instead she had been greeted warmly. After classes there were invites to pubs and cups of tea offered, everyone wanted to get to know Sawyer. A few people had even asked about Alexis, which they laughed about over their daily FaceTimes. How funny it was that people liked her when she didn’t really need them to anymore. This new warmth from people had meant that she seldom needed to walk or to take the bus because there was always someone’s car she could cram into, but on this particularly rainy Tuesday she’s been at the clinic later than she expected and there’s no bus for an hour. She knows Sawyer will be working, so she calls her home phone hoping to catch Maurie or her Ma to beg a lift and maybe some dinner. The phone rings twice, when it picks up she goes to talk immediately the way she usually would but she’s halted by.

“Fauna.” Her father says obviously having recognised her number, his tone not annoyed or accusatory for once which makes her immediately wonder if he’s drunk.

“Hey Da, is Maurie there?” She asks, hoping that if he is truly good and drunk he’ll just pass the phone over and she won’t have to prolong their interaction.

“No, her and your Ma went over to your grandparents.” He isn’t drunk, she can tell that by now. If he was drunk he would have put the phone down after delivering that message. “What did you need them for?” If he’d been any other person in the entire world she would have told him it was nothing and then tried to rummage around in her bag for enough change for a cab into town. But she knew if she told him that it was nothing then it would start a fight where he’d demand to know what she was hiding from him, and her feet ached too much for that.

“Oh I was just gonna try and beg a lift from the clinic, scran something from Ma. You know how I am.” She says, though it’s not true. He barely knows her at all. There’s a pause, which lasts longer in her head than it probably did in real life because she’s so fucking cold.

“I’ll pick you up, we’ll go for a pint.” Those were the last words that she expected to come out of his mouth, and she blinks in surprise.

“Why?” She asks before she stop herself, it’s always a terrible idea to question Percy and her heart sinks as soon as she says it. That’s always the problem with living with someone who you can completely be herself with, she forgets that she has to put her guard back up with other people.

“Because you need a fucking lift and I’m the only one in, god it’s not complicated Fauna Eloise.. sometimes I wonder what they teach you up there because it’s not bloody common sense.” Percy snaps.

“Sorry Da.. you’ve just never picked me up before.” Fauna responds, trying to mollify him. “Thanks though.” She adds, he’s not actually punished her since that time at parents week but she doesn’t really want to go through it again.

“Text me the address.” He says, and honestly even though she’s sure she’ll probably live to regret it right now she’s just grateful to think about getting out of the cold. A pint, is a pint after all. Though Percy hadn’t done anything particularly heinous since Sawyer punched Harold at new years, so she supposed she was about due for him to do something to remind her why she hated him so much.

Percy has brought his favourite Porsche coupe and it arrives a lot sooner than Fauna thought it would. She’d almost expected he’d keep her waiting, to punish her for questioning his motives. She dashes through the rain and slips into the front seat, to find Percy listening to the rugby. “Thanks for the lift Da, it’s vile outside.” The weather is usually a pretty safe topic, Percy hates the rain. There’s a brief conversation about the state of the roads, and what she was doing at the clinic before he looks at her and says.

“You can drive can’t you? Why don’t you have a car?” Fauna has to bite her lip hard to keep from laughing at this question. God he really didn’t have any idea what life was like did he? As if her and Sawyer could think about running a car when all they had to live on was the few shifts that she could take at the ER, his barely minimum wage earnings at the pub and what was left of her savings. They could barely afford groceries some weeks, and she’d been shoving the council tax bills underneath the freezer until Maurie had insisted that they take an envelope of ‘Christmas money’ to get rid of them.

“Yeah I can drive, you gave me a lesson once remember?” She reminds him. That was probably the last time that he’d volunteered to spend time with her that wasn’t to give her a bollocking. The lesson hadn’t been terrible to be honest, mostly because Percy liked feeling in control and like he was the smarter one of the two and Fauna didn’t mind learning when she thought the skill was useful. “Canne afford a car though, don’t really need one anyway I only really go to uni and to the pub. Sawyer borrows Glens car sometimes.. if we’re gonna go visit Nana or something.”

He grunts in recognition of the lesson. “You’d have more than enough money if you lived at home.” That’s the second time that evening that he’s stunned her to silence, and so she just stares at him like a fish. Was he really suggesting that she should move home?

“I mean.. I guess. But me and Sawyer are happy where we are I think. It’s nice to have a place of our own, weren’t really supposed to live together at school. ” She responds eventually, she wants to ask him why she would ever want to move home when he’d all but shoved them out of the door when they’d lived there for the month after Ohio. “Besides my single is a bit small for both of us. Sawyers a big lad.”

“Hm.” Is all her father replies it’s not like she expected him to laugh, she doesn’t think he’s ever laughed at one of her jokes but she does have to wonder where he’s going with all this. Her hands fidget in her lap as she waits for the penny to drop but he doesn’t press her on the topic. After a brief silence they pull up to one of the fancy country restaurants that Percy loves where the prices make her teeth hurt. She’s been uncomfortable with this kind of thing since she was a little girl who wore her wellie boots to church. As a kid she used to say she wasn’t hungry anymore and she didn’t want to go inside, which would usually cause him to call her ungrateful and all but yank her from the car while Rory wailed that he wanted Mcdonalds. Even now as an adult she wants to tell him that she’s not dressed for this kind of pint, and that she still stinks of the clinic. But again she knows that it’s not worth fighting over so she pulls the hood of her coat up and trudges with him inside.

Percy knows the girl on the door, and he speaks to her in an odd charming voice that Fauna knew he had but had never experienced first-hand. She thinks about this version of her father occasionally though, when she’s wondering how Maurie or her Ma ever ended up with him. It’s this charming Dominant they thought they were getting claimed by, not the bad-tempered man who can never be wrong, that ended up raising their kids. They’re shown to a table, and handed expensive looking leather bound menus. Fauna almost doesn’t want to open the thing, but her stomach is growling so she scans the print for the cheapest thing on the menu.

“It’s on me.” Percy says as if reading her mind. It’s early in the dinner for him to declare this, one of his favourite games when he brought her and Sawyer out was always to order and then ask them to pay at the end of the meal. Watching them try to scrap around for enough money to cover the extortionate tab, before the waitress told them that Mr Flanagan had already paid. It was the kind of humiliating mind game that Percy specialised in, always reminding them that they relied on him, that they needed him. Fauna considers asking him whether or not he’s sure he wants to pay but that’s another question so instead she says.

“Thank you very much Da, you didn’t have to bring me out here. I’d have taken a half eaten bag of crisps.” She jokes, her stomach rumbling as her eyes scan over the options. While she’s not a fan of fancy places, she is looking forward to eating something that she didn’t make in that one pot that never seemed to have quite lost the burned crust that she’d created when Sawyer had distracted her while she was trying to make red wine gravy.

“I know, you’ve always been willing to eat any old shit.. Take shit from everyone. You shouldn’t settle though, not about food and not in your life Fauna.” Percy says, and Fauna is starting to wonder if this is all about Sawyer somehow. Percy had been awfully nice to Sawyer since the incident at new years and she now had a creeping suspicion that he’d just been biding his time, lulling them into a false sense of security.

“I mean I actually do just really like cheap food to be honest with you Da, I really enjoyed the American preoccupation with junk food while I was there. As for everything else, I don’t really think I’m settling. I thought I was doing pretty well to be honest, I left a school that I didn’t think was gonna give me a fair shot, I’m studying to be a doctor at the best school around and I’ve got an amazing boyfriend.. what more could I want?”

“You live in a pokey one bedroom flat and you can’t afford a car, you and Sawyer should be thinking about a house of your own.” Percy declares, and honestly Fauna is just glad that Sawyer was included in whatever weird fucking conversation they were about to have.

“I mean once I’m qualified Da.. we’ll work on a claim and then we can start to think about getting a house and stuff. But I’m in med school right now, that’s you know.. expensive.” She wants to mention her trust fund, because it would solve every single problem that he keeps talking about. But she’d rather try to work out where he’s going with all this first.

The waitress arrives at that point, and Fauna hasn’t even really thought about what she wants though she decides to use this to her advantage. “Can you order for me Da? You know what’s good here better than me” Percy actually almost cracks a surprised smile at this, letting a Dominant order for you is good manners in his book. Fauna has never been opposed to this kind of power exchange when it’s consensual, though usually not with her father. But she knows that he thinks she’s a terrible submissive, that she’s not willing to follow any kind of rules so little gestures like this can occasionally help with keeping him in a good mood. He orders her something with goats cheese that Maurie apparently likes and a regular pint.

“I know you think I’m some kind of monster, because I won’t just let you and your brother waste your lives. And you act like I’m a cunt because Ive always tried to stop you from parading yourself around like a whore and acting like a nasty little brat.” Percy says, and Fauna takes a long drink of the pint that’s just been put in front of her. Vodka would have been better. Just when she was thinking this was going well. “But I push you because I know you can have more, and because I always wanted you to find a decent claim. Unlike your moron of a twin, I always knew you had potential. You’re decent looking like your mother, and nobody would ever shut up about how clever you were even when you were a kid. Though it was always like pulling teeth getting you to show it. Obviously there was no chance of you going into the business because you’ve always been submissive and overly emotional.. but I pushed you to do what you were good at.” Fauna wants to say that yelling abuse and emotional manipulation go a little further than ‘pushing’ and that if he really wanted to push her he could have offered to help with medical school but she holds her tongue. “I’ve always been trying to teach you not to be a chump and to be able to stand on your own two feet like I had to. Nobody gave me a hand out.”

In a world where Percy wasn’t the worst person on the planet , Fauna might have spoken about him with pride. He was self made after all, his friends were always clapping him on the back and talking about his clever investments outside of the business. But he’d soured every page of his biography with his actions, and left her uninterested in knowing how he made the money that he so loved to hold over her and Rorys heads. The money that he used to manipulate her mother and Maurie into submission, and literally the only thing that made him any difference from the drunks that he sneered at on a Saturday night.

“You’ve been making improvements though I’ve noticed, since our talk in Ohio. You’ve been more like a submissive should be, less crass, not dragging yourself out of bars like a tramp. Minding your manners.” Percy says, and Fauna raises an eyebrow. “And New Year reminded me something.. that I’ve been too hard on you particularly in a way. I always lump you and Rory in together because everyone else does. Which was never good for you, you don’t want people thinking you're a layabout junkie like him. I gave you the same treatment because I thought you needed the same push to succeed. But you’re a submissive and so I shouldn’t expect you to be able to do things for yourself. You’re supposed to be weak, you should be obedient.” In her mind Fauna punches him square in the jaw, and she stays visualising that as the waitress puts something that smells delicious in front of her. “But when the Yank fucking battered Harold, I realised that getting you under control was about finding you the right Dominant and shaping him. At first I thought the Hudson boy was a total waste of fucking air since he’s a skint drifter, with no decent family to speak of, American and he seemed like a pansy. But then I realised he’s got balls, and he seems to have enough of a grip on you that you’re no longer spreading your legs for anything that breathes.”

There’s a part of Fauna that feels some sort of twisted pride that her father is starting to approve of Sawyer, the words that are coming out of his mouth in many ways disgust her. But that stupid little girl who just wouldn’t give up hope that her Dad would someday be proud of her was jumping up and down that her Dad thought Sawyer could be a good match for her.

“I am committed to Sawyer.” She confirms for the millionth time, always feeling a little sick when he brought up the idea that she might have sex with anyone else. “And he’s a really, really good Dominant.”

“Hm.” Percy responds as he tucks into his steak. “It’s his future I’m interested in, like I said you two can’t spend your life in that dirty little flat. You need to be looking ahead, and I mean to help with that. You need to keep focusing on uni obviously, and on being a decent submissive. But I can help give him a push in the right direction.”

Fauna has no idea how to respond to this decision making process, because on one hand she wants to try and shield Sawyer from everything that comes along with having Percys attention. But if Percy warming up to Sawyer meant that he might relax on his one strike and you're out policy, then it would help them both sleep a little easier at night. So she doesn’t really say anything for the rest of dinner, he makes a cruel remark about her being greedy when she wants to order dessert, and takes several very underhanded digs at how much Rorys rehab costs which she can’t ignore and has to bite back on. But it’s probably the longest they’ve ever been alone in a very long time.

When he drops her off back at her apartment he reaches into his wallet, and pulls out a wad of twenties. “Buy yourself a bottle of decent booze.” He instructs. “You should be able to serve something that’s not shite when you have people over.” She has no intention of using the money for that, but she thanks him all the same and gets out of the car without feeling totally like shit for once. Which in turn makes her feel guilty, like she was betraying herself and Rory somehow for not totally hating every second that she spent with Percy. For letting him get away with at least half of what he’d said, Rory would never have sat there passively while he insulted the flat that her and Sawyer worked hard to afford and Sawyers parents who were good hard working people. Yet despite all that he’d said, Fauna considered the meeting to have gone well, and she just didn’t know if that made her a bad person or not.

Glancing up at the apartment building she could see a light on, and that familiar relief of knowing that she could talk to Sawyer about what was worrying her spread over her body. So without agonising further, she punched in the key code and disappeared out of the rain. Leaving what she could of her guilt and unease behind her.

#(( the past is talking now ))

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samsylviasmoustache · 7 years ago

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Selfless

Another prompt fic, this one for @cristian-alicea who requested Tammé giving Sam parenting advice. I had two ideas for this, so went with both in the end :p Hope you enjoy!

“Look, I just don’t think he’s reliable,” Sam says.

“Just, just give him a chance,” Justine pleads. “Come on. Everyone deserves their break, right?”

“No,” he replies, making a face. “Not everyone. And he had his chance and blew it. That’s the reality here. That’s showbiz.”

“No, that’s you being a stubborn asshole,” she mutters. “Fine. I’ll tell him there’s no job.”

“Fine. You do that.” He shrugs. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. Again.”

There’s something else, trapped behind the thin line of her angry mouth, but she can’t seem to say it. She turns on her heel instead, stalking away from him in high dudgeon.

“What the actual fuck?” he says, to himself. He turns around, still shaking his head, to find Tammé watching him from across the car park. “Don’t judge,” he says, pacing over to her. “She thinks this guy is the next Scorsese.”

“And you disagree?”

Sam shrugs. “He’s an arrogant prick who thinks he’s the first director to discover neo-noir film making and the utility of a good blood rig.” He thinks about this. “Also, he’s got a weird chin.”

Tammé shuffles her feet. “And you think he likes your daughter.”

“What? No. I don’t care. I mean, she’s nineteen. She can f—she can date who she likes.” He sighs, recognising his choice of words for what it is. “Fuck.”

“Welcome to parenthood.”

He shakes his head again. “I’m not good at this.”

“No one is,” she says, sounding surprised. “Not to start with, anyway.”

“You seem to have it figured out pretty well.”

Her brow creases, not sure if he is joking or not. “What makes you say that?”

“Your son is at Stanford. You came to my office, on your first real job, to talk to me about you character concerns in case it upset him.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I just… I think you overthink things.”

She remains unmoved by his sharp look in response; he supposes she must be telling the truth. “That’s not what most of the women in my life have thought up to now.”

“I’m just saying… who are you trying to measure up to when you say you’re not good at this? There’s no magic to it. You just put them first.”

“I’m not used to having to do that.”

She shrugs. “Neither was I. You just do it. Until it becomes a habit. Until you don’t have to think about it anymore. It just… becomes part of who you are.”

“Huh.”

She gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “It’s not rocket science, Sam.”

“So, what do I do now?” He gestures after his wayward daughter. “Do I follow her… or…?”

She takes pity on him. “What’s going to happen with this guy if she tells him he can’t work with you?”

It’s not a deep dive for Sam to guess his next move, although his imagination skids away from the conclusion. “Yeah. That.”

“So, if you really think that’s not what’s best for her, what can you do to stop it?”

He pinches his nose. “Talk to him. Maybe give him that second chance? Stop making it seem like a him or me deal. Christ. I really don’t like—”

“And that’s putting her first.”

“Huh,” he says again. His moustache twitches as he meets her eyes, the beginnings of a smile. “How much am I paying you again?”

“Not enough?” she smiles back.

“What? No, you can’t bring him in here. This is a working environment.”

Debbie fixes him with a look, the kind that probably launched ships to war in antiquity. “I need to rehearse,” she says, “my babysitter has cancelled and my ex-husband is an ass. You are sitting up here doing next to nothing. If you want Friday’s show to work, you will take Randy, and keep him safe and happy until my mother arrives.”

“Hey, you’re not the director,” he fires back. “You can’t—”

“No, I’m one half of your title card match and the only wrestler you have that can do a diving crossbody without someone losing their teeth.” She takes in his blank look and rolls her eyes. “Where I jump off the rope, Sam. Come on. You’re up here doodling shitty cartoons and… I don’t even want to know what else. If I had anyone else I could go to in this situation, believe me, I would be there.”

He grits his teeth, a muscle working in his jaw as he reigns in his temper. “Fine,” he says, eventually, short and clipped. “But Friday’s show better make people lose their goddamn minds.”

“It will,” she says. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “I never signed up for this shit.”

“And I did?” she retorts. She tucks a strand of errant hair behind her ear. “Where are the drugs in here?”

“What?”

“Just… answer the damn question, Sam. I know there’s some here. I just want to… This is my baby and—”

“Jesus Christ! I’m not going to let him do drugs! What the hell do you think I am?”

“Not a parent,” she returns flatly.

The silence that follows the statement is ringing. She’s right, of course. In every way it matters, he isn’t. An accident of biology doesn’t make him a Dad. His fumbling attempts to parent Justine are just that; baby steps, a first try. One he’ll inevitably fuck up, like everything else meaningful in his life up to this point. It just hurts to be reminded of that.

She opens and closes her mouth a few times, in the face of his total shutdown. “I meant… of a baby,” she tries. “You’ve never had—”

“I know what you meant.”

And there it should end, in ice cold rage, were it not for Randy himself extending a pudgy fist towards Sam. “Ba!” he exclaims, smiling.

Debbie swallows. “Thirty minutes,” she says. “That’s all we need.”

“Yeah. I get it.” He stands up, and she passes Randy over, still a little reluctant. “Go. Rehearse.”

“Um, yeah,” she says. There are tears she’s too proud to let fall in her eyes, an apology unspoken that can’t escape her mouth. “Don’t smoke,” she says instead, and flees.

Randy stays smiling for about thirty more seconds, dandled on his lap. Then he realises his mother has left the room and breaks into a wailing cry.

“Yeah,” says Sam. “Me too, kid.” He tries bouncing him a few more times, but the wail becomes a piercing shriek. “Uh,” he manages, before the door opens again. To his surprise it isn’t Debbie but Tammé come to his aid. “Oh thank God,” he says, “you’re much better at—”

“Uh-uh,” Tammé replies, “I have to rehearse too.”

“But—”

“I know, I can hear him too. Bring him outside so he can see his Momma.”

“What?”

“Trust me. And take his bunny.”

Sam goggles at her, but manages to follow the instructions. Randy squeals the whole way down the stairs, but changes to a watery gurgle when he spots Debbie in the ring with Ruth.

“Ma!” he says.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s her. Liberty Belle,” he says, walking over to the bleachers. “Can you say that? Commentary on social stereotypes.” He makes the bunny say it, like a muppet. “Stereotypes. Yeah.”

He catches Tammé’s eye across the room and gives her a wink.

#prompt fill #netflix glow #fanfic #sam sylvia #tamme dawson #debbie eagan #randy eagan

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chocolatequeennk · 8 years ago

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A Timely Rescue commentary track

This is for @asmilelikestarlight, who said, “Okay I can't decide which fic I want you to talk about. So I'm going to let you choose. You've written a lot of Doomsday fixits and reunions. Do you have one that's closer to your heart than the others? Please ramble on about it. ❤”

I chose A Timely Rescue, in which Nine ends up at Canary Wharf and prevents bad things from happening.

A pretty boy in pinstripes looked up at him, a jolt of recognition and relief in his eyes. “Grab Rose,” he ordered, nodding at the blonde girl who was just barely hanging onto a lever.

I love how instinctive the Doctor’s distaste for his future self is. This is not the kind of person he had an use for as Nine, so of course he rolls his eyes and calls Ten a pretty boy in pinstripes.

This fic was the product of three different prompts: A Doomsday fixit with Nine, Nine seeing post-Doomsday Ten and Rose in between the two times he asked Rose to travel with him, and Ten and Rose in an established relationship with post-argument hurt/comfort. It was incredible how they all worked together to create one cohesive fic.

The Doctor lunged forward and grabbed her hand just as her fingers slipped, and she smiled up at him. This time it was his turn to feel a jolt of recognition. “Rose?” It was obviously her, even though she did look a few years older than she had when he’d left her behind in the alley a month ago.

“Doctor!” she cried happily.

Well of course she looks a bit older than the last time you saw her. Even if she’d stayed on Earth, it’s been two years in Earth time since that evening.

And I like to think about how surprised he would have been by her happy greeting. Because to him, she refused to come with him. Why would she even recognise him, much less be that glad to see him again?

The breach in the wall closed and weaved itself together. The Doctor crossed his arms and glared when the other man let go of the clamp he’d been hanging onto, ran across the room, and pulled Rose into a tight embrace. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said, his voice rough.

Gaaaah, this is one of my favourite things about Doomsday fixits. All the emotion surrounding this moment. (Okay, I know in the last ten days I’ve said about fifteen different things are my favourite about Doomsday reunions/fixits. Let’s just assume I really, really love writing stories that take place during Doomsday.)

ANYWAY. Just, the relief pouring off him as he races across the room and pulls Rose into his arms. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like, especially since with his time senses, he probably had at least a vague idea of what was supposed to happen. Imagine you and someone you love were in a car accident, and you both miraculously escape injury. Now imagine all the relief you’d feel as you held them, knowing it could have ended so differently. Then add to that a prescient knowledge of exactly how it could have ended.

Man, I love Doomsday.

Rose pulled back and stroked his face gently. “Never. I told you; I’m never gonna leave you.” Pretty Boy sighed and leaned into her caress, then—to the Doctor’s surprise—he bent down to kiss her gently.

Oh, did I mention this is a sequel to Tokens of His Affection? I mentioned in an author’s note at the end of that story that they avoided Doomsday. Some people really wanted to know how, and these prompts finally gave me an idea of how to handle that.

So this isn’t just Ten and Rose, in some approximation of their canon relationship (whatever you headcanon that was). This is the Doctor and his wife--as the series is called, The Doctor’s Wife. This is Rose comforting her husband and bondmate as he struggles against the realisation of all the ways they could have lost each other today.

Man, I love Doomsday.

It was in the middle of the kiss that the Doctor realised who the other man was. “Oh, I don’t believe it,” he groaned loudly, not caring if he was interrupting the other man’s—well, future him’s—kiss with Rose. “This is what I regenerate into?”

The couple parted, and the Doctor’s future self glared at him while Rose giggled. “Yep! This is the next you, Doctor.”

“Fantastic,” the Doctor groaned.

The tenth Doctor glared at his past self and opened his mouth to give an acerbic comment of the big ears and leather look. But his gaze landed on Rose for a moment, and he noticed lines around her mouth that he hadn’t spotted earlier.

Immediately, his own irritation was forgotten. “Yes, you can laugh at my fashion choices and hair style later,” he said brusquely. “Where’s your TARDIS? I want to get Rose to the infirmary.”

Oh, my heart. He forgets all about yelling at himself when he realises Rose is in pain. He forgets about defending himself... to himself... to take care of her.

Look, the Doctor isn’t perfect. None of them are. We can argue the virtues of the different regenerations and each of us have our favourites, but they are all stubborn and wilful and will rarely let an insult slide.

But that all changes when Rose needs him. For Rose, he can ignore all of that. He loves her, and she’s in pain, and noting else matters right now.

“I’m fine,” Rose said at the same time as the younger Doctor jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, “It’s this way.”

The Doctor brushed his knuckles over Rose’s cheekbone. “You’re not fine, love,” he countered softly. He held her gaze until she let go of the pretence. “Is it your shoulders?” he guessed, remembering how the suction had stretched her body out.

“You’re not fine, love.” I just... and the way he brushes his knuckles over her cheekbone. *heart eyes* I love these two so much. I love that she’s determined not to let her little bit of discomfort get in the way of... anything, and that he’s not going to let it go, because Rose Tyler being in any kind of discomfort is not okay, as long as he can take care of it.

“And my back,” she admitted. “But don’t you dare feel guilty,” she ordered, some of her earlier anger returning to her eyes. “I’m right where I want to be.”

“Come on,” the younger Doctor offered. “She’s just down a flight of stairs.”

The Doctor could feel his past self’s confusion, and he knew they’d have to explain a few things to him—after figuring out where exactly he was in his own timeline. For now, he took Rose’s hand and followed the leather clad Doctor out of the room that would haunt his dreams.

I don’t imagine either Rose or the Doctor will be forgetting today’s events any time soon. I actually love to think about that, all the nightmares and flashbacks they might have.

Man, I love Doomsday.

You guys, I just love to write stories that are intensely emotional, and no matter how you handle Doomsday, it is powerful. You can write it with the canon ending, and you deal with all the pain of them being separated. You can write that canon ending and include a telepathic bond, which is now severed, and you’ve got both emotional and physical pain.

You can write a fixit, like this, and you get all the adrenaline as they realise how close they came to losing each other, and as they take care of each other and comfort each other, both physically and emotionally. There’s so much emotional potential in a fixit, because like I said, even though they made it, there’s the awareness of how close they came to losing each other.

And you can do my favourite and write a reunion fic, where you get to do both. You get all the trauma of their separation, all the joy of the reunion, and all the hurt/comfort as they heal from that pain.

So. Yes. This room will haunt their dreams.

The younger Doctor had thought he’d received all the surprises possible, but when the TARDIS chimed joyfully upon Rose Tyler’s entrance, he was proven wrong. “She’s never been this happy to see anyone but me before,” he said, scratching at his head.

Rose let go of the Doctor’s hand and rested it on a coral strut. “Oh, I’m happy to see you too, dear,” she whispered.

The pinstriped Doctor smiled, but there was something in his eyes that his counterpart thought looked like awe tinged with fear. “Rose and the TARDIS have a very special relationship,” he explained, and the Doctor knew that whatever that meant, he would have to live through it to understand.

I loved adding this Bad Wolf reference in here. The relationship between Rose and the TARDIS is one of my favourite things to play with, and I’m particularly fond of using it in fics with Nine, before Bad Wolf has even happened. From his perspective, his ship is just inordinately fond of this human girl for no real reason? I mean, the Doctor adores Rose, but the last time the Doctor loved his companion, the TARDIS was not so approving, so what’s so different about Rose?

Oh, Doctor. Go back and ask her a second time, and you’ll understand what’s so different about her.

#Nancy's birthday extravaganza #asmilelikestarlight #a timely rescue #bloody doomsday #doomsday tuesday #nine x rose #ten x rose #fixit fic

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oliverwvvd · 8 years ago

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something brewing: part i

The moral of this story is that I need to not do the stupid thing and accidentally press save draft instead of queue, since this was supposed to be posted at least a week ago. Oops. Anyway, this is part I of the previously discussed barista au, because I toyed with the idea for a while and it stuck around. Yes, I recognise the title is a horrible pun, but I couldn’t resist. I hope that everyone who liked the idea of this isn’t disappointed.

Premise: Oliver is a sports science student who has to maintain his grades in order to retain his scholarship and has a good chance of playing football professionally. Despite that, he’s serious about wanting to do well. His flatmates spend more time drunk than they do sober, so he’s given up trying to work at home and finds a little coffee shop to study in. What he doesn’t expect is to develop a painful, near-instantaneous, utterly inconvenient crush on one of the baristas.

i: marcus.

It was just past 5pm, and Marcus was comfortably settled into work for the evening. There was a lazy hum of guitar as his background noise of preference, the coffee shop wasn’t too crowded and that gave him time to open his textbook underneath the counter in between making drinks while Susan handled the customers and sorted out any food orders. The page was marked with the casual ease of someone who was used to reading in what spare moments he had, and ain’t that the truth? Honestly, he had trouble absorbing it all at once, so taking information in bit by bit while he did other tasks always worked far better for him, letting him actually retain it instead of forgetting it immediately after reading.

While he turned the pages, humming softly under his breath, dark hair clustered at his temples in slight, tousled waves made worse by the steam from the coffee machine. The scent of freshly ground coffee filled his nose, underscored by the lesser hints of different types of tea, and you’d think he’d be sick of it by now, but the fact was he found it comforting. It smoothed out all the rough edges of his day and helped him to concentrate.

Leaning across, Susan stuck a receipt in front of him. “Large latte with an extra shot for the tall drink of water down at the end there.” There was a mischievous note to her voice that he’d heard before, usually when a customer was particularly easy on the eyes, and he shot her a look back as he got down to making the drink, a grudging half-smile playing about his lips. She mouthed, “Eleven out of ten,” at him, her petite frame safely hiding her behind the coffee machine, and he lifted an eyebrow, because only once in a blue moon did Susan make that sort of assessment. Working in a coffee shop this close to the university, they both got to see a lot of different people walk in and out when they were on shift. One thing he had learned, however, was that he and his fellow barista had different ideas of what was visually appealing. Maybe it’s because she’s an art student, they find the weirdest things interesting. In Susan’s case, that often extended to people, too.

The latte was done in a matter of moments, his hands moving in a familiar rhythm that was as old as time itself to him now. Flicking a quick glance to the receipt to get the name, he walked down to the end and asked, “Large latte with an extra shot for Oliver?” before sliding the drink across the counter, a slight curve of his mouth because customer service meant you were supposed to smile and be courteous. Since he’d never really mastered smiling on command because other people thought he should, this was the nearest thing that he could manage.

When he glanced up to identify the customer, though, he didn’t expect to find someone looking directly back at him, and he certainly didn’t expect to recognise the face, even dimly. Oh. It took effort not to do a double-take, because he knew he’d seen this one around somewhere and couldn’t quite place where. But everything else apart, Susan had, for once, been exactly right. High cheekbones, gloriously messy brown hair, and as he took the drink, a warm, seemingly shy smile that didn’t match with the slight cheekiness of the friendly wink he paired with it. “Thanks,” he said, and as he walked away, Marcus got a wonderfully prolonged look at exactly how long his legs were. It took actual concentration not to let his eyes wander further. Not at work. He ignored Susan, who was trying not to laugh and failing, and instead opened his textbook again.

“Well. If he meets even your impossibly high standards…” Thankfully, her voice is naturally low-pitched anyway and the boy, Oliver, had long since vacated the immediate area for a table over in the far corner, or he might actually have stepped on her foot to silence her.

“Don’t start, Susan,” Marcus warned, attention momentarily drawn from the pages in front of him, a loose scattering of diagrams and pencils notations visible. “I’ve got to get this stuff into my head before the next class if it kills me. I don’t need distractions.”

He felt rather than saw her pout. “Well, if you don’t feel like being distracted, mind if I do? Honestly, he’d make a wonderful model, I might see if I can convince him to sit for me.”

With an impatient gesture that said be my guest quite clearly, Marcus went back to his book while Susan wandered out onto the main floor of the coffee shop. Ostensibly, she’d gone to clean up, but the odds were good that she’d find an excuse to be distracted, as she put it, while she was there.

ii: oliver.

Oliver was absolutely knackered. So knackered, in fact, that the only thing stopping him from going back to his flat and murdering his flatmate in cold blood, or falling asleep in the chair he’d just sat down in was the steaming cup of coffee in his hands. When he took the first sip, his eyes actually closed for a moment because thank Christ, caffeine. On the second sip, the warmth seeped through him and took away the fact that it was freezing outside. On the third, he was recovered enough to sneak another glance up at the counter and the dark head of hair tilted downwards over what looked like a book. They’d barely exchanged words, really, but Oliver knew himself, enough to know that he definitely liked what he’d seen when the barista had handed him his coffee. Sharp jawline, faint hint of dark stubble that managed to be attractive without being scruffy, broad shoulders clad in a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt rolled back at the elbows, and that maddening hint of a smile. Another sip of the coffee, and it was enough for him to tell that it was good, definitely good enough to keep him coming back. The odds were that he was going to be spending a lot of time here, and the reason why could be summed up very succinctly. “Drunken bastards,” he muttered under his breath, opening his backpack and pulling out his notes, wincing at the state of his handwriting. Right. Best neaten these up.

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Startled, Oliver looked up, not realising that his commentary had been quite so audible. However, when he realised it was the redheaded girl from behind the counter, he relaxed. “She’d wash my mouth out if she heard me,” he said, amused. “Because like every mother, she’s convinced that I’m still five and won’t believe it until I prove otherwise. That was relatively mild.”

“Aye, I figured, you being very obviously from Glasgow and all.” The impish grin that accompanied the girl’s words left him confused, until she introduced herself. “I’m Susan. Barista by whatever hours I’m designated to work, art student by trade who couldn’t help but notice you’ve been gifted with the kind of bone structure that begs to be drawn.”

The words flustered him, left him wondering how the hell to answer, so he settled on an easy smile and deflection. “Honestly, I think your counterpart might be the better candidate for that,” he said, nodding in the direction of the other barista. When he caught the playful gleam in Susan’s eyes, he kicked himself. Why do I talk? “But I’m never opposed to a new friend. I’m Oliver,” he said, offering his hand outwards. “Which you know, because I gave you my name about five minutes ago when I ordered,” he added, cringing slightly at himself. And this is why I shouldn’t try to be social when I’m tired. “Sorry, bit braindead, the coffee was necessary.”

When Susan laughed and shook his hand, he couldn’t help but be a bit relieved. Usually, he had no problem navigating new interactions, but right now he was operating on far less sleep than he actually required. When her expression took a turn for the mischievous, Oliver became sharply aware that he’d probably said something he shouldn’t have. “He’s so used to me drawing him in between taking orders at this point that he’d probably be thankful for me practicing on someone else,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “And honestly, can you blame me?”

Watching the dark-haired barista move with the kind of controlled grace that made him look almost alien when placed behind somewhere as commonplace as a coffee shop counter, Oliver couldn’t argue with her and therefore, he didn’t. Instead, he spent a few seconds mulling over the boy, wondering what his name might be and why he felt like he’d seen him before. Probably around the university or something. Fortunately, he didn’t have to answer because she switched subjects a moment later. “So what brings you to our little hole around the corner from the campus? Besides the coffee, of course. I’m guessing you weren’t cursing just now for effect.”

Oliver sighed. “I ended up with an absolute dobber for a flatmate this year. Spends more time drunk than sober, and doesn’t know when to shut it. I like a drink now and then, but not when it means I can’t get any sleep because the eejit and his mates won’t shut it at four in the morning.” He rolled his eyes, pointed at the cup. “Hence the extra shot. Eight o’clock football practice this morning, class in the afternoon and I’m done for, and still got to do some work.”

The wince of sympathy was gratifying, as were Susan’s next words. “Well, that definitely explains the swear words. Should I get our resident coffee genius to make it stronger next time?”

Oliver didn’t even pause in response. “God, yes. If he can possibly add any more caffeine without giving me the shakes or making me ill, yes.”

“He can make anything that involves coffee and tea taste palatable, it’s a gift. Do you trust me?”

“I’ve just met you.”

“I’m a barista. Trust me. Give him free rein on what he makes you next.”

Oliver was too tired to make sense of the conversation, even after the first (excellent) cup of coffee, and his notes were swimming in front of his eyes anyway. “All right. Tell him that if he can make me something that’ll keep me on my feet for the rest of the evening and tastes as good as the first one did, he’s got a guaranteed customer for life.”

iii: marcus.

Marcus was somewhat expecting the cat that’s got the cream smile on Susan’s face when she practically sashayed back behind the counter. He’d looked up only once, seen that she was talking to the attractive boy from earlier (Oliver, his brain helpfully supplied) and snorted to himself, deciding to leave her to it. If there had been a slight pang of disappointment, well, he only had himself to blame, didn’t he? And this, this was why he didn’t do distractions.

“Hey, hotshot. Pretty boy over there says he’ll drink anything you make so long as it tastes palatable and doesn’t give him the shakes. Up to the challenge?”

So much for no distractions. Of all the things he’d anticipated her saying, that hadn’t been one of them. Against his own will, Marcus found his eyes unwittingly drawn towards the boy, suddenly becoming very aware that he had dark circles beneath his eyes and actually looked outright worn out, the more so as he sifted through what looked like pages of notes spread out on the table in front of him. “Hard partier with a hangover?” he asked, rather hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Footballer with early practices, late afternoon classes and a selfish gobby prick for a housemate who thinks four in the morning is an acceptable time to be pissed as a newt,” Susan amended, only managing to further pique Marcus’ interest, while simultaneously making him wonder how exactly she managed to inveigle information out of people the way she did. “He’s had a long day. Make him something good.”

“Your wish is my command,” Marcus drawled, abandoning his textbook and turning his attention to the coffee machine. “Did you get his number already? I figured it’d take you at least ten minutes to work up to it, and that was barely five.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Susan unsuccessfully attempt to hide a smile, resolved to get her back for it later. “No, I don’t think I’m his type, though he didn’t seem to have trouble acknowledging that he finds you good-looking.”

Marcus didn’t bother restraining himself; he rolled his eyes at her quite plainly, and chose not to acknowledge the remark. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her raise her hands in surrender. “Just passing it on, even if you don’t believe me.”

“Stop bothering me, woman, if you want me to make the damned drink,” he snapped, not meaning to sound quite as snippy as he did. Thankfully, Susan had known him long enough to know the difference between him wanting to focus and him actually being annoyed, and simply stuck her tongue out at him before heading out to the storeroom to go and obtain more takeaway cups. Left in peace, Marcus spent five minutes concocting something that would tick the boxes specified with the ingredients that he had to hand. The result ended up being a monstrous latte that only just fitted in the largest takeaway cup. It looked relatively ordinary, but he was confident that it would fit the bill. “Order for Oliver?” he called.

And if he wanted to watch the other boy walk towards him, well, he didn’t have to admit it to anyone but himself. Even if his rule was no distractions, he didn’t see any harm in appreciating the view, and there was a lot about the view to appreciate. When Marcus set the takeaway cup down in front of him, there was a shy smile playing about his mouth again and God, he wished he didn’t find it as attractive as he did. When the other went to reach into his pocket, obviously intending to extract his wallet, Marcus shook his head. “Try it first,” he said, leaning elbows against the counter and not quite able to help his curiosity. He didn’t often get to see the first reaction to a new drink, so this was a rare opportunity.

When the other boy inclined his head, raised the cup in his direction and took a long drink from it, Marcus watched his reaction move from neutral to enjoyment with a slight half-smile. He didn’t get the chance to ask the question, because Oliver (don’t pretend like you don’t know his name, Flint) had a much wider smile on his face now before he spoke. “I can taste the caramel, and…apple pie? And at least a double shot in there.” It was less of a guess when he had another long drink, and damn if that response didn’t make Marcus’ day in less than ten seconds. “God, that’s exactly what I needed, and I never would have ordered it on my own. How much do I owe you?”

Marcus shook his head again. “Nothing. You just helped test out a new special for the menu,” he said, wanting to outright grin, not quite comfortable enough to let himself do it. Finding the other attractive was one thing, but actually doing something about it was another. Probably has someone, anyhow. The fact that he was even considering the matter was more than he wanted to think about, shoved it away with a nod of his head as Susan emerged from the storeroom. “Get that down your neck, you’ll feel better,” he said, before disappearing into the storeroom himself, under the pretext of checking whether or not they’d received the new blend that was supposed to be arriving. They hadn’t, but he found a mess, like he always did. With a faintly exasperated sigh, he started to tidy up, ignoring the fact that he’d just bolted in the opposite direction to the first person he’d genuinely been attracted to in almost a year. Well, I always did have a knack for self-sabotage. Or maybe I just don’t want to waste my attention on a lost cause.

iv: oliver.

Oliver had been coming to the coffee shop for a few weeks at this point, for a multitude of reasons; the first being that waking up with a hot drink in his hand before his first tutorial or before practice was infinitely preferable to staying at his flat. The second being that his flatmate hadn’t proven to be any less of an idiot as time had progressed, and while the atmosphere between them wasn’t hostile as such, it might easily go in that direction if Oliver was around the flat more often. The final reason, and the one that he was all too aware of, was the fact that the coffee shop came with the added bonus of the dark-haired barista, whose name he’d discovered only four days prior. Susan had called back to what was presumably the storeroom while Oliver had been waiting for his usual morning order (a flat white). “Marcus, are you done in there yet?” For reasons he couldn’t understand, everything seemed to click into place at that point. The name was fitting, but that was also the point where he couldn’t entirely ignore the fact that not only had he liked what he saw when he first laid eyes on the other; he’d liked it enough for the interest to continue past the initial meeting.

So the combination of irritating flatmate, burgeoning caffeine addiction, and a need to work undisturbed also happened to coincide with the fact that he was developing a small, inconvenient crush on the barista, on Marcus. They hadn’t exchanged words much, nothing more than polite conversation really, but in that time, a comfortable routine had developed. In the mornings, Oliver had his flat white. In the afternoons and evenings, Marcus often had free rein on what to make for him, and he’d never yet gotten it wrong. With a glance, dark eyes seemed able to assess what kind of day he’d had and make the drink that fitted the bill. Susan hadn’t been wrong: the other had a gift for it.

It was late one evening when Oliver approached the counter with a textbook in hand, around 8pm, and was met with the half-smile that never quite made it to something more. It held mystery, that look, and he’d rapidly learned that he didn’t mind a little mystery. “Same again?” The question, ready when he reached the counter, made him smile ruefully. “Yeah, please. This thing’s making life difficult for me.” He raised his textbook, an analysis of sport psychology that was interesting enough, but not easy to translate to the project that his professor had given him. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the flicker of surprise, however slight, that crossed Marcus’ expression when he saw the textbook. That was nothing, however, to Oliver’s reaction when the barista responded, “Yeah, that one’s not fun. Been having a bit of a wrangle with it too.”

It took a few seconds for Oliver to click. Really? So maybe that’s where I recognised you from, even if dimly. “I didn’t realise you were in there too,” he said with a smile. “How come I’ve never seen you?”

“It’s a big lecture theatre. I sit up at the back and the lecturer’s usually turned the lights down for the projectors by the time I get there. I didn’t know you were in there either, to be fair.” That was when the usual half-smile that he’d become strangely used to widened, and oh, Oliver wasn’t prepared for that, because if the effect of the half-smile was bad, the full smile was absolutely devastating by comparison. He was sure that he was staring like a fool, and he didn’t have the will to sort it out. Pull yourself together.

“I’m aiming for physiotherapist eventually,” Marcus continued, seemingly not registering Oliver’s reaction. “But I’ve not seen you in any of my other classes, which are somewhat smaller, so I’m guessing you’re taking a slightly different direction.”

It took Oliver a few seconds to form a coherent sentence, and under other circumstances, he would have been really bloody well embarrassed about that, but Christ, he’s only human and that smile was like attacking the unarmed. “Yeah, I…I’ve been scouted for football, so most of what I’m doing is geared towards being able to coach and help other athletes if that doesn’t pan out,” he said. Though he knew that he was good at what he did, he wasn’t naturally a braggart. He felt the weight of Marcus’ scrutiny when the other looked at him more closely, and Jesus, he did the exact opposite of handling it well when the appraisal seemed to run past his face to the spread of his shoulders. Don’t blush, for the love of God.

“What position?”

The question caught Oliver off-guard, because his mind immediately went to places that it quite definitely wasn’t supposed to go while he was in public (I can think of lots of those), and the dark-haired barista (and incipient physiotherapist, apparently) could have easily chosen a better way of wording that. Was that deliberate? He couldn’t tell. Marcus’ expression was unreadable besides the smile and the tilted head. It was impossible to work out whether the other had spotted his preoccupation and decided to mess with him. If he did, game on. “Any number of positions, really, but I’m currently playing keeper,” he said, opting to accompany the words with a grin of his own, daring to put just a little flirtation behind the remark. When he heard a slight spluttering sound from further down the counter, he didn’t need to look to know that Susan had caught the gist of what he was implying, and he cringed because he’d honestly forgotten she was there at all. However, it was Marcus that sent her on the retreat with a truly impressive glare that made her disappear back into the stockroom, while Oliver wished for the ground to swallow him up as promptly as possible.

“I play striker, sometimes.” The conversation had turned back to football, and Oliver was thankful for it. Plays and strategies, he could discuss until light turned to dark, even if he was meant to be wrangling his way through the textbook still in his hands. Apparently Marcus’ attention span was much better than his, because in the time that they’d been talking, he’d still managed to make Oliver’s drink and mark the current page in his own textbook, tucked covertly beneath the counter as it generally was. To Oliver’s surprise, he smiled again, but this time there was an obvious edge of embarrassment to it. “Just realised I’m being a bit of an idiot, by the way. I’m Marcus; don’t recall ever telling you that.” When he came out from behind the counter, Oliver then got his first good look, up close, at exactly how the other dressed. A faded band t-shirt and a pair of dark, rumpled jeans that clung to all the right places. When the other offered his hand out awkwardly and Oliver closed fingers around his for the handshake, he grinned again. “Good to meet you properly. I’ll see you in our lecture, I guess. I’d better get back to work.” When he met the other’s eyes as they released grip, however, the brush of their fingers lingered and he wasn’t immune to the spark of that touch, far from it. Whoa. The other didn’t need to know that he’d already been fully aware of his name before now. “Yeah, you too. See you later.” And with that, they parted ways, Marcus back behind the counter, Oliver returning to his usual seat with coffee in one hand, textbook in the other, and quite probably a really stupid smile on his face like he’d just been hit between the eyes.

What Marcus also didn’t need to know was that his small, ridiculous crush had gone from mildly out of hand to completely insane in the span of about ten minutes, if that.

This is really not a good thing. What am I going to do about this?

#flintwood #flintwoodnet #something brewing #coffee shop au #ol writes things

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ferrero13 · 7 years ago

Text

That Which We Call a Naruto (10/11)

Fic summary

The road to becoming a good Hokage is a long and tedious one. As it turns out, it’s also incredibly confusing — there is no shortage of people who can’t keep track of who he is.

Or, 10 people who didn’t recognise who Naruto was, and one person who did.

Read on AO3

Chapter 10: Retired Kunoichi

In which a jounin-sensei realises that the retired kunoichi with kids in the Chuunin Exam is neither retired nor a kunoichi.

He met her on a swing.

Well. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he met her while she was on a swing and he was on his way to a briefing for foreign jounin-sensei before the Chuunin Exam officially commenced. She was gazing at the doors of Konoha’s Ninja Academy, hair a long, yellow banner behind her, and Sajou was immediately smitten.

“Are you waiting for somebody?” Sajou asked as a conversation starter. He hoped she wasn’t.

She didn’t startle at his sudden appearance, which meant that she probably had some ninja training and had sensed him coming. But there was no hitai-ate in sight—off duty, maybe, or even retired? “Not really. I just enjoy sitting here,” she said, smiling up at him. She must have seen his hitai-ate, because she asked, “Are you here for the Chuunin Exam?”

“I’m a jounin-sensei,” he said, puffing his chest out a little. A little bragging couldn’t hurt, right? Women liked capable men, right?

She grinned, and Sajou fell a little bit in love with how devious her smile was. “Good luck. This batch of Konoha genin is very good. They’re much better than I was, at any rate.”

“I’m sure you were excellent,” Sajou offered. He was trying not to simper, he really was, but he had a bad habit of turning off all higher brain functions when faced with such beauty.

The snort that she surprised him with shouldn’t have been be that attractive. “I was horrible—my jounin-sensei would’ve told you that. I got better, obviously, but fat load of good that did me,” she said. “I never officially made chuunin, but I’m already permanently on the wrong side of the Mission Desk now.”

“Just because you’re not on field duty doesn’t mean that your job isn’t important,” Sajou said. He ventured to place a hand on her shoulder in a show of support, but she twisted out of his reach.

Her laughter was unexpectedly thick, nothing like the light, tinkling sounds most women made. As she got up, she said, “Isn’t there somewhere you should be getting to, jounin-sensei?”

He sighed. “Regretfully. I’ll see you around?”

“I think we’ll be seeing each other quite a bit in the coming month.” With one last smile, wide and unabashed and vibrant, she flickered away.

He hadn’t told her about the briefing, but it pleased him disproportionately to know that she wasn’t just beautiful but also well informed and observant, even if she was still a genin. Whistling, he made his way into the Academy. It wouldn’t do to keep the Hokage and the other jounin-sensei waiting no matter how much he wanted to bask in his newfound love.

---

“How’s your team doing?”

Sajou startled. Tearing his eyes away from the screens in the observation room, he saw that she had managed to get behind him without him noticing. That hadn’t happened to him in a really long time—it really spoke volumes about how anxious he was.

“Not bad, but not as well as I’d hoped. The next round will be tough even if they pass this one. You’re right about how good the Konoha genin are.”

She flipped her hair. “Of course I am. Those are my kids.”

Sajou’s neck protested at how quickly he snapped his head around to look at her. “All fifteen of them?”

“No, of course not,” she said, laughing her hearty laugh that made her chest heave in a way that Sajou had to fight not to stare at. “Just three, naturally. Well, actually, you weren’t entirely wrong. I guess you could say that they’re all mine…” she continued saying, but Sajou was having some difficulty paying attention to anything.

She had children. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? It wouldn’t be unusual for a woman like her to be attached, and the fact that she’d retired from active duty despite looking healthy and hale meant that something other than an injury had taken her off the field. Which implied that she had children because, after death, it was the most common cause of kunoichi retirement.

Which further implied that she had a husband and was likely much older than she looked.

Great. Just great.

He turned back to the screens only to see his team arguing over the edibility of a brightly coloured mushroom that was clearly poisonous. Fantastic. His team was doing just as well as his love life.

---

Nearly a month later, Sajou found her looking for a seat in the arena minutes before the first match was scheduled to begin. He waved her over to the empty one next to him. Although she’d said that they’d be seeing a lot of each other over the course of the Chuunin Exam back whey they’d first met at the swing, he’d probably seen less of her than he had of the Hokage. Finally seeing her again, and in such a crowded space too, was a pleasant surprise.

“Thanks. If I’d known that it would be this difficult to find a seat I’d have come earlier. The turnout’s so much bigger than I expected,” she grumbled. “Your kid’s up first, right? The Yase girl, with blue hair?”

“Is that what she’s known as amongst Konoha ninja? The girl with blue hair?” Perhaps Sajou should have had her dye her hair some inconspicuous shade of brown to avoid being so easily recognisable. The luxury of looking distinctive belonged only to those who were good enough to handle almost any enemy that spotted them, and right now Yase was nowhere near that level.

She shrugged. “At least it’s just her hair. Mine has skin so pale it shines blue under the right light, and that’s after I tried everything to get him to tan.”

Sajou picked the boy out easily from the line-up. “Red hair, red clothes, scrolls spilling out of every pocket?” He didn’t look a lot like her. Sajou quashed the thought that the boy probably took after his father, which was a shame given how beautiful his mother’s tan skin was.

“That’s him. You’ll want to watch out for his seals. Oka’s better than most chuunin and that’s not even taking into account how quickly he draws them while using taijutsu. With some experience, he could probably take on an entire four-man cell with only a brush and something flat to draw on. He fights right after Yase.”

“Against Suna’s Fueno Azuhi? That girl literally spits fire. Is this place even fireproof?” Sajou looked doubtfully at the wooden benches and beams of the arena, and then at the forests a distance away that surrounded Konoha.

“You’re in a ninja village, in Fire Country. If something isn’t fireproof, it will be after the first time it goes up in flames. Oh, look, Yase is getting ready. Can I expect a very thorough commentary about her every move?”

Sajou snorted. “You’re in a ninja village, talking to someone who belongs to another ninja village. What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

She shrugged. “I have a pretty face. It was worth a shot.”

It was somewhat terrifying how right she was. Sajou suddenly felt very worried for his village’s secrets, but it wasn’t strong enough to keep him away from her magnetic presence.

---

The last match of the day was drawing to a close. Sajou was ready to crawl into a hole and drink his misery away after being on the receiving end of her proudly bragging about her three children, all of whom looked nothing like her or each other at all. Her husband had better love her a lot, or Sajou wouldn’t hesitate to steal her from under his nose.

“How did the kids do?”

Sajou startled. What was with Konoha ninja and creeping up on him undetected? Was he losing his touch or was there something in the water here? He turned around. The man had dark eyes and even darker hair, and something about the way he looked was familiar, like Sajou had seen him before only in passing but should recognise him anyway.

“You were watching. How do you think they did?”

“Not horribly, but Kai could definitely have done better.”

“I thought so too. He should’ve made chuunin a long time ago if the team hadn’t always been in the wrong place at the wrong time and missed all those exams before.” She leaned back into the man, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. There was tenderness in her eyes that Sajou dearly wished she would show him instead.

“This must be the father,” Sajou said, for lack of anything else to say.

“What?” she said, startled. “Whose father?”

Sajou’s brows drew together in confusion. “Your children’s? Oka and Nari and Kai’s?

She stared at him for a second that seemed to stretch into an eternity. “I’m not a mother, Sajou-sensei,” she finally said.

“But—”

The man snorted, interrupting Sajou’s growing bewilderment. “Why am I not surprised?”

She glared at him, retorting, “Hey, just because I—”

“Sensei!” somebody yelled, high and loud, and Sajou prayed for his ears. “Sensei! How did I do? Did you see that? I took down that Kumo-nin with the jutsu Sakura-san taught me!”

“Shut up Nari, no one wants to hear about your lame sleeping jutsu. Sensei, my seal was awesome, right? I still have all of Fueno’s shuriken and kunai in my scrolls. We can train with them next time!”

“Both of you, stop that. Sensei, I was the one who found you, not that it was difficult at all since you changed practically nothing. It was harder when you looked exactly like yourself. I won, so teach me a new technique.”

She raised a hand and all three of her children fell silent immediately. Sajou himself had never even dreamed of commanding half of the respect that she did from his genin. “Nari, good job. Sakura will be glad to hear that. Oka, please return Fueno’s weapons. Those are custom-made and I don’t want to start a fifth war over some genin’s expensive shuriken. Kai, following Sasuke is cheating and you know that. But I’ll teach you anyway since you’re the only one who didn’t look directly at the Kage box.”

Kai shrugged. “I’m just making use of all available resources. It just so happened that Sasuke-san didn’t mind leading me straight to you, so why should I expend more effort than I have to?”

She glared at the man behind her, whose missing arm Sajou was only now noticing. “You just defeated the purpose of this exercise, bastard. It was going to be their graduation test.”

“That’s what the Chuunin Exam is for. And it was a ridiculously simple task anyway, idiot,” Uchiha said, and Sajou nearly gasped. The audacity! How could a man say that to such a wonderful woman? “They could’ve done this three years ago.”

“I had a weak genjutsu and compulsion jutsu applied and my chakra signature was scrambled—it wasn’t going to be that simple. You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Uchiha snorted. “You’re just going to join me anyway, so what’s the point.”

“Can you not talk about this here? There are things that we really don’t need to know about,” Oka said. His face was an improbable shade of green that clashed horridly with his red hair and nearly blue skin.

“You’re fifteen and you have a girlfriend. That’s more than I ever had when I was your age.”

Oka grimaced. “That’s because all your life you only ever had eyes for Sasuke-san, but he was too busy getting revenge or whatever to notice you mooning over him. And now that I’ve said that, excuse me while I go to wash my mouth and scrub my mind.”

At some point along this incredibly enlightening conversation, everything had slotted into place with a satisfying finality in Sajou’s brain. This woman was Uchiha’s wife and the jounin-sensei of these completely dissimilar genin. He wasn’t aware that Uchiha was married, but then, unless one was very, very foolish, nobody really lingered on Uchiha’s page in bingo books.

Sajou was deeply regretting telling his team everything about the yellow-haired woman now, because they’d made him swear to ask her out by the end of the Chuunin Exam or they’d bleed his wallet dry. But Sajou really, really didn’t want to get on the wrong side of somebody with a Sharingan, even if she was the most compelling woman he had ever crossed paths with.

“Sensei, aren’t you going to drop the henge? You can’t make the closing speech looking like that,” Nari said.

“He has the Hokage’s mandate. He can do anything he wants,” Kai retorted.

“But that doesn’t mean he should—Shikamaru-san will really strangle him this time. As much as I want to see him willingly move a finger for once, Uzushio won’t be happy if sensei stepped down so soon after he promised to help them rebuild.”

“They’re right, dead last. You look ridiculous anyway,” Uchiha said, plucking at long yellow hair with mild disdain.

She slipped her hand into Uchiha’s and pulled him down by the neck until they were eye-to-eye. “Are you saying that I’m not attractive like this?”

Uchiha snorted. “I’m saying that I don’t want to wake up next to a stranger.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me this week. Love you too,” she said, grinning. Then she turned to Sajou, face smoothing into a pleasantly neutral expression. “Sorry it’s kind of sudden, but I have to go. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in Konohagakure.”

There wasn’t much Sajou could do but nod dumbly as she bade him goodbye and walked off with Uchiha and her genin.

And a second after that, there wasn’t much he could do but gape when her narrow back widened and a cloak unfurled around it. Uchiha passed a bright red hat over, and in an instant Sajou could finally put a name to the person he’d been thinking of for the last couple of months.

…his genin were going to be so rich.

#That Which We Call a Naruto #Naruto #Uzumaki Naruto #Uchiha Sasuke #SasuNaruSasu #SasuNaru #NaruSasu #Identity Reveal #Mistaken Identity #AO3 #fic

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