#the boys could have him teach them how to pick up the French girls competing for France

[savvylittlecoxswain]

What if Bobby’s father decided that he couldn’t possibly let his son go to Germany alone? Like imagine if Gaston Moch showed up outside Bobby’s door in New York as the boys are riding the high of winning the Olympic Trials, asking if he could speak to Bobby alone. And of course they all think that someone died or something, but Bobby agrees and they go on a walk together. When they’re alone in a field sitting beside one another under a tree, Gaston tells Bobby everything. Of course it’s very emotional for them both, but Bobby is glad his father told him.

And it doesn’t end there because Gaston is determined to not let his son face whatever lies overseas alone, whatever it may be. He had money set aside for a trip to visit his family for a while now, but now there’s the added bonus of being able to watch his son compete in the Olympics. Maybe they put him down on the manifest as their translator or something seeing as he is fluent in French and quite possibly knew a little bit of German.

[kuronanox]

Captains harem ft. Julius

(Your name) didn't know why but today all the captains and Julius were asking for attention, it creeped her out because she was nothing special. It was as if they were all fighting for her.

Nozel invited her out for tea.

Fuegoleon offered to take her to a nice hot springs

Kaiser didn't he have a wife???¿¿¿

Rill told her "draw me like one of your French girls."

Jack was just a psycho but wanted to cook with her.

Charlotte suggested taking a girls trip to shop.

William wanted to watch the little birds and nature and even offered to show his giant tree.

Yami straight up just asked her to date him.

Dorothy wanted to take a long nap.

Julius followed her around like a little stalker he is for his own amusement

Mereoleona also threaten to beat some sense in her head if she didn't want to drink with the royal.

"Why are they all so pushy today? I've rejected all of them can't they take the hint? I mean.... I'm sure they don't like me!" (Your Name) tells Marx as they sat in his office.

"Oh thanks captains for not doing any work today, unbelievable. But you are a pretty lady. I can't see why not?" Marx tells her while separating some papers.

"Yami asked me to date him but I'm sure Charlotte is in love with him so no thanks." (Your Name) states leaving the office bored out of her mind. "Maybe picking one of their offers wouldn't be to bad."

Strolling down the hall she comes across Julius. "Yo!" She calls out running towards him. "(Your Name)!" He cheers!

"Come to the captains meetings today! We have lots to discuss!" Julius tells her with sparkles in his eyes. "Ugh are you sure?"

"Yes of course! Other members will also be there!"

"Okay! I'll see you later then!" She smiles as Julius pats her head and watches her leave.

Going back to her room she laid in bed thinking about all the invites she got today.

"Hmm Nozel and Tea? That doesn't sound bad but boring, I'm not even a royal. I'm sure he invited me out to talk some smack.

Fuegoleon and hot springs?! I get to see his abs and hair wet. Count me in!

Kaiser just no.

Rill is cute but I can't draw maybe he can draw me instead?

Jack.... what would we cook? Sweet offer though I would actually like to.

Charlotte is so pretty, I would look like the maid if I went out shopping with her.

William is a little simp, maybe I could use that? Seems tempting.

Yami, no? Charlotte would kill me.

Dorothy would not wake up if we took a nap together.

Julius?¿ would he be considered my Sugar daddy? AHH!

Drinking with Mereoleona seems fun! Drinks on her though, I don't got that salary."

After thinking about everything she walked into the Captains meeting and took a seat next to Asta, Noelle, Leopold and Yuno. "Why are we here?" She asks them.

"Maybe we are moving up in ranks!" Asta yells excited to see all his hard work pay off.

(Your Name) looks up to see Nozel looking dead straight into her eyes. "Noelle, has your brother always had a staring problem?"

Noelle blushes and flips her hair. "Nii Sama would never do something like that!"

"I guess so, dude has been looking at me for the past 5 minutes." (Your Name) states looking away to catch Jack licking his lips.

"O.o" she reacts and looks away awkwardly.

"Why is all the Captains trying to get your attention?" Yuno asks her as she sighs and laughs holding her head from getting a headache. "I'm not sure, Maybe it's a game they're playing because I'm just the joke!"

William kindly bids her a hello and takes a seat.

"Yer got an answer?" Yami asks now as she looks up to him and back at Charlotte.

"Uhh, no. I mean yes?? NO! My answer is no!" (Your Name) says while looking back and forth. Charlotte was highkey listening to their conversation.

"So you don't wanna date me?" Yami speaks up as all the captains perk up.

"Nonsense, (Your Name) has class and a acquired taste of course she didn't say yes!" Fuegoleon shouts standing on his two feet.

"I don't see her saying yes to you either." Nozel butts in as Yami just deadpan behind them.

"No need to fight! We all know I'm the perfect match for (Your Name)!" Rill exclaims throwing his body to her and embracing it.

"You wish kid!" Jack laughs next to Yami as they argued on who could win her over after.

Charlotte was a mess as she contemplated what to say because Yami liked a girl. "Y-y-yami a-actually li-likes so-som-some one!" She screams fainting.

Mereoleona busts the door open and folds her arms. "Oo I heard my little brother and I are competing to get (Your Name)!"

"Mereoleona, I won't loose to you. I'm the gentleman that will sweep her off the ground." Fuegoloen defends as they shared the same hot passion. "Woah woah woah, older sister and Aniue likes you! I have to tell parents they are fighting over a girl!" Leopold laughs on the floor because his older siblings were acting ridiculous.

Nozel scoffs and removes Rill off (Your Name). "(Your Name) is now my girlfriend." He tells them all as Yami and Jack laugh.

"Nice try bug braid."

"What did you say?!" Nozel furries as William gently slips past them and grabs her hand. "(Your Name) you seem flustered, I can let you escape this mess?" He offered with a mysterious smile under his mask.

"No no William, I see everything." Julius cuts in as he entered through the door.

"I guess Dorothy is out of question, she's been asleep." (Your Name) thinks just staring at all of them argue.

"Am I even pretty?" She asks Asta as he seem overwhelmed with everyone yelling for her attention. "I didn't know you were this popular! SO COOL TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!"

"Bakasta!" Noelle says hitting the little boy. "WHAT DID I DO?!"

(Your Name) was getting a headache from everyone screaming and yelling she jumped onto the table. "HEY! I'M NOT GOING TO GO OUT WITH ANY OF YALL! I GOT A BOYFRIEND!"

"Bo-bo-boyfriend?" Julius says pouting as the other captains settled down.

"What fool do I have to beat?" Nozel cuts in as Fuegoleon cuts in. "What must I do to change your mind."

"What a simp." Leopold whispers, looking at his older brother.

"And who may this nice gentleman be?" William asks clearly intrigued to take the spot away from the man.

(Your Name) looked around the room to think, she didn't have a boyfriend, but she just yelled that to get them to shut up.

Jack was out with his blade and Yami already had his sword ready for action. "Bro."

Getting fluster she stuttered a bit till Marx walked into the room, uneducated about what was happening.

"MARX! He's my boyfriend!"

"HIM?"

"MUSHROOM HEAD?"

"MARX THE ONE WITH NO CHILL!"

"How could you Marx?" Julius says in betrayal.

(Your Name) gives him a stare that made him understand to play along. "Oh! Yeah! I'm her boyfriend!"

"I'll kill you." Yami half jokes as the other captains grumble in disappointment.

"Well let me know when you wanna switch genders." Mereoleona says with a grin before heading out.

"One way or another a royal will get their way." Nozel says.

"I agree, I'll be the man to have you." Fuegoleon added taking Leopold with him.

"Ahh my tree house is always open to you." William invites her with a sly smile.

"Kitchen is open too, I'll cook." Jack says leaving as Yami shakes his head. "Let me know when your mind is changed brat."

"I'll still be checking up on you!" Rill cheers with a big smile.

Charlotte and Dorothy were passed out so no last words came from them.

"Marx, we got lots to discuss." Julius says before taking his leave.

"So the point of this meeting was for?" Yuno says clearly amazed to see how immature the Captains were acting. "Exactly." Noelle agrees taking Asta back to the base. "REMEMBER TO TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!" He yells before out of site.

(Your Name) breathes a sign of relief. "Thanks Marx!"

"Jeez, now they are out for my throat!" He yells not amused he came to the rescue.

"Sorry!" She says sticking her tongue out and running out.

"Where are you going?!"

"To mess with them some more!" She jokes as Marx just signs.

(Author notes: I personally like Fuegoleon the most! :D, this was fun to write! But lowkey idk wtf I just wrote, Not edit yet!)

[sareyen]

A Machine Without Feelings: A Jane Eyre AU (Part 9/11)

Read on ao3

Chapter 9

Charles, Jean and Ororo giddily chatted to each other as they walked the short path to the new school grounds, a modest building that had once been a barn, but had been extended by a few single-storey stone rooms. Since it was such a small parish school, it was not practical to segregate the boys from the girls, so Charles, Jean and Ororo worked closely together.

The three teachers would swap in and out for different classes depending on which subjects they preferred. Jean enjoyed teaching English and history, while Ororo was in charge of the French and geography lessons. Charles, of course, taught science and mathematics.

Charles loved teaching at the school – though the children were farmer’s sons and daughters and by no means avid scholars, they were curious enough about the ways of the world and listened attentively. It was vastly different from teaching at Graymalkin, and definitely a whole different experience compared to teaching Peter, but still fulfilling.

Charles also loved teaching since it took his mind off other things, namely thoughts about Erik. When he was teaching, he focused solely on the children. When either Jean or Ororo had taken over the class, he would focus on organising the content for his next lesson, or mark work sheets under a single candlelight. When he returned home, he would try to absorb himself into Jean’s poetry readings, or get Ororo to teach him more Spanish.

A season and change passed by just like that, Charles becoming absorbed in his work and not much else. He had recovered from his weakness after being exposed to the elements on the Moors five months prior, and though his foot was still maimed, it did not bother him much at all now. He still used the chair, but found that he could at least walk a lap around the small garden at the back of Eden House with relative ease.

Still, Charles overworked himself, especially once Stryker had seemed satisfied with his competency after the first two months on the job, offering him a permanent position. But  Charles had not missed the man’s subtle attempts to find out about Charles’s past. He asked Charles if he remember his education (he said he did not, but that he thought he maybe had a tutor, which he also did not), if Charles worked at another school prior (he said that he did not know), or if he remembered where the Xander family hailed from (he also said that he had no clue, much to Stryker’s frustration).

Charles still remained a bit of an enigma, and Stryker felt, in his robust gut, that the man knew more than he was revealing. He could not attack the man, though, since Charles had become rather popular in the rural parish. He was charming, young and sociable, and despite being a cripple, he managed to curry favour with his students, and more importantly, their parents. Stryker had received many letters stating that they people were immensely happy with the quality of teaching the children have been receiving at the school, particularly mentioning Mr Charles Xander. Stryker crumpled up all the letters and threw them into the fire.

Charles Xander was becoming far too popular, and far too powerful for Stryker’s liking. The only power Stryker had over the man was his wealth, so Stryker was glad that the man was at least poor. It appeased him slightly to know that he still controlled the teacher’s salary.

It was one evening in the blistering winter that Charles’s body grew weak. He had always been sensitive to the cold, and now crippled and overworked, he could not stave off the slight sickness that gripped him. He soldiered on, though, and now sat at the desk Logan had made for him, coughing a little as he scribbled down some notes in his book.

Charles now shared Logan’s bedchambers with him. Not in the same manner that he and Erik shared a room in, but more out of necessity. Sleeping on the chaise in the sitting room was alright during the warmer months, but in winter the room was freezing, and sleeping there was asking for frostbite to nip off his fingers and toes.

Logan’s bed was not large and could not fit another bed in it. It was a good thing that Charles was small, because it meant that the two men could just fit on the pre-existing bed when they lay side by side on their backs, though their arms pressed together tightly. That was not all bad, not when Logan was like a furnace and Charles’s maimed foot did not circulate blood as well as it used to.

Logan was already lying on the bed, only wearing a set of flimsy linen trousers. Charles, on the other hand, was wrapped up in his trousers, shirt, coat, two pairs of socks and was weighed down by two blankets over his shoulders. It did not help that there was a frosty draft drifting in through the gaps in the window, cold even with the warmth radiating from the fireplace on the other side of the room.

Charles coughed again, causing Logan to curse, the bed creaking as the large man sat up.

“Chuck, stop overworking yourself and rest. You’re going to waste away again,” Logan grumbled, Charles just humming as he covered his mouth to cough again, flicking to the next page in his book. Charles heard Logan click his tongue in annoyance, and let out a startled yelp when his wheelchair was suddenly jerked back, his pencil dropping onto his now abandoned book.

“Logan!” Charles began to whine, frowning when the man pressed a warm hand to his forehead, checking for a fever. Luckily, Charles was not feverish, only run down with a little niggle in his throat.

“If you don’t want that cough to get worse, go to bed now, Chuck,” Logan said, ignoring Charles’s protests as he took it upon himself to pick the younger man up, throwing him without a hint of delicacy onto their shared bed.

“You are a brute,” Charles huffed, but shivered with the loss of the two blankets he had been wearing earlier, burrowing into the one on the bed instead. The sheets had already been warmed by Logan’s body, and Charles couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, making Logan chuckle.

Logan lowered himself besides Charles, and couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face when Charles subconsciously snuggled closer to him, chasing his body heat. Logan hesitated for a moment, looking down at the smaller man beside him, blue-eyed and red-lipped, and a surge of desire pulsed through him, unfamiliar and consuming.

Slowly, Logan shifted his arm so it wrapped around Charles, tugging him in closer. Charles’s breath hitched, and the boy immediately froze, ocean eyes wide. Charles’s hand was pressed against Logan’s chest now, pushing a little. Logan’s heart stuttered.

“Sorry,” Logan mumbled, retracting his arm, frowning. “Did I read you wrong, Chuck? I thought, I had the feeling that, even though we’re both men…”

“No,” Charles started, before grimacing. “Yes. And no. I- I’m sorry, my friend. It is not you. You are perfect, and you are right about that. It’s not normal, or proper, I know, but… that’s how I am. If that makes you uncomfortable, I can return to the chaise. You only need to tell me.”

“I just held you, and you’re asking if I am uncomfortable with the fact that you like men?” Logan scoffed, Charles’s cheeks flushing at the bluntness of his statement. “Chuck, you know me. I don’t care about what’s proper.”

Charles laughed, a little weakly, looking up at Logan then. He did find the man attractive, and he did like him. He maybe even loved him, but not in the way he loved Erik. He loved Logan the same way he loved Jean and Ororo, Moira and Alex. Logan was a close friend, as close as a brother.

“Like I said, my friend. You are perfect,” Charles said, holding his hands to his own chest now. Logan cracked a smile, turning to face Charles a little better.

“You said something about it not being me. I’m a simple man, Chuck, but even I can read that you have some sort of past… with someone.” Charles winced at Logan’s words, mouth about to open with an excuse, or quip about having no memories, which Logan knew was utter shite. “Chuck, I know that you remember things. I think you remember everything. You’ve been living with us for half a year, I think we can read you better than most people now.”

“I can’t hide it from you, can I?” Charles sighed, Logan exhaling sharply.

“You don’t have to. You can tell me, and Jean and Ororo. You know that we would never talk. I hardly talk to anyone outside of this household, anyway,” Logan said, smiling wryly. Charles laughed again, before nursing his lower lip. Charles hadn’t told anyone about his past, but he believed that, if he would tell anyone, it would be the three people in this house, Logan most of all.

“It is a long story, my friend,” Charles said, Logan shuffling in the bed to get more comfortable, giving Charles a raised eyebrow to continue. Charles started to talk, his words stunted at first, unsure. But as he continued, the words began to flow more freely, until the flood gates opened completely. It was easy talking to Logan; the man’s face barely changed from its usual gruff indifference, though Charles knew he was listening attentively when the man would grunt every now and then, eyes never leaving Charles’s face.

Charles started from the beginning, about Westchester and Graymalkin, and then about Ironfield. Charles told Logan everything, about how he adored teaching little Peter, about his friendship with Moira and the other staff. He told the man in his bed about the master of Ironfield, the man that had loved him and broken him. He told him about how Erik had made his newborn heart jealous with Emma, and how they had loved each other desperately. How he still loved Erik desperately.

Then Charles told him about the Creeds and the marriage, about the ghost who still haunts Charles now, miles and miles away. Charles ended the story with tears in his eyes, wiping them away as he gave Logan a final, shaky smile.

“And then you found me wandering the Moors. Erik once asked me if I had a tale of woe. I believe I just told it to you,” Charles murmured quietly, Logan silent, before speaking.

“You still love him,” Logan said slowly, Charles nodding. “Then why don’t you return to him?”

“You know why, Logan.”

“He loves you too, Chuck. It’s obvious, from what you told me. A man like that does not let go of someone like you, even if you go away,” Logan said, knowing full well how hard it would be to forget someone like Chuck.

Charles let out a choked noise, fresh tears sprouting from his eyes.

“I hear his voice sometimes, you know,” Charles whispered, pressing two fingers to his temple. “In here. I can hear him calling for me. I don’t know if I am mad, or if my dreams about him linger when I am awake. But I swear, I can hear him.”

“He’s calling you back, Chuck,” Logan said simply, Charles squeezing his eyes closed.

“Is it not too late for me to go back, though? I… have a life here, now. With you, and Jean and Ororo. With the children at the school. I have a life here. Would it not be selfish for me to abandon it, just because I long for one man?”

“You are a strange and selfless fool, Chuck,” Logan said, nudging at Charles’s chin with a rough finger. “And you are tired. So go to sleep, now, and think about things properly in the morning.”

Charles let out a throaty noise, something like an ‘okay’ and a ‘thank you’, before slipping into a deep sleep wrapped up in Logan’s warmth. Logan watched him sleep, for a moment. And he thought, ‘that man, Erik. For him, I doubt that it would ever be too late, not as long as you came back to him. I’d be the same way.’

The morning after, Charles and Logan gathered Jean and Ororo, and Charles told them the story he had told Logan. He did not cry this time, even if his heart ached. Jean and Ororo had tears in their eyes instead, and both got up from their seats to hug Charles, whom they thought of as their second brother. They understood him, and promised that they would be there for him, because that was what family did.

***

Three more months passed, and winter turned into spring. Nothing much happened during that time, and life was simple yet tranquil. The school was operating well, and the occupants of Eden House could begin to afford a few more luxuries in their life with all four members having found employment. They no longer had to restrict fires to a single room, and Ororo finally got her new shoes. Meals were no longer watered-down stew, and they could afford bread and good meat, as well as wine for special occasions.

Charles’s birthday was one such occasion. The festivities weren’t grand – Jean and Ororo had taken it upon themselves to cook a hearty roast meal, and Logan had crafted Charles a new walking stick as a gift. Charles was taken aback by the detailed and intricate design, and had kept running his fingers over the smooth surface of the object.

“It never ceases to amaze me how rough hands like yours can create such delicate art like this,” Charles had said, Ororo cackling at Charles’s insult-compliment, Jean’s lips quirking as she poured everyone wine. The household sang and danced – well, Ororo sang and danced, and Charles just sang. Charles attempted to dance, Ororo spinning him around in his chair, making him laugh wildly, immensely happy.

Charles had never thought too much about birthdays. He had rarely celebrated them in his childhood, only getting a cake from Kitty and an impersonal card and toy from his mother. At Graymalkin, birthdays did not exist, though the one birthday that he shared with Raven was a cherished memory, the girl making him a crown of daisies as a gift.

Nineteen was no major milestone, but it was now his most favourite birthday, and an important memory. Charles was not aware that it was important in a different way, one that would rock the newly built boat he had built after his last one had been overturned in a storm.

It was another month after Charles’s birthday that Jean came running in to the school building, cheeks flushed as red as her hair, the hem of her dress caked with dust and mud.

“Professor,” Jean said, still using the affectionate nickname despite knowing that it was in no way true. “I have news. Startling news.”

“What is it, Jean?” Charles asked, putting aside the writing boards and chalk he was tidying up, wheeling over to his sister and grasping her slender arm.

“I think I should sit,” Jean said, wringing her hands together, taking a seat at the edge of a long bench besides Charles’s wheelchair. Charles’s brow was furrowed with nervousness and suspense, Jean rarely getting so agitated about anything.

“I had just talked to Stryker about ordering more benches for the students, since our numbers have grown since winter. When I left, there was an unfamiliar man that went into his office; he was wearing a fine suit, and was definitely from the city. I had a feeling, you see, so I stayed around to try and listen. We have never trusted Stryker, and the whole thing smelled off,” Jean said, glancing around, checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Neither Charles nor Jean sensed any other presence in the room, Jean continuing in a hushed voice.

“That man, I could not catch his name, said that he was a lawyer from -shire. You said that was where your old residence, Ironfield Hall, was, so I knew it had something to do with you.”

“Has Stryker’s inquiries into my identity yielded fruit, then? Jean, this is terrible news,” Charles said, heart seizing. Jean quickly shook her head, though her tensed figure did not ease.

“Stryker did not seem to know your real name, but he does now. The lawyer said that he was looking for a Mr Charles Xavier, formerly of Westchester, Graymalkin School and Ironfield Hall. The lawyer has been looking for you, and had heard rumours of someone matching your description – it was likely because Stryker was asking about you, and the lawyer put two-and-two together.”

“Oh, God,” Charles groaned, Jean grabbing his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Did the lawyer say what he was looking for me for? Was it about Ironfield? Did… Did something happen to Erik?”

Jean shook her head.

“No, Stryker asked about the reason too, but the lawyer said that he could not disclose private information to anyone other than Mr Charles Xavier. Stryker knew that the man would not budge, and I think he wanted to send the man away, but this was an opportunity for him to discover the truth about you. Charles, I ran here the moment I heard, but the man is coming here to the school, now. I wanted to warn you, first, so you are prepared.”

“Thank you, Jean,” Charles said, just as there was the sound of crunching gravel from the path leading to the school building. Jean and Charles looked at each other, the woman touching her palm to Charles’s cheek supportively, before she stood from the bench as the lawyer entered.

“Mr Charles Xavier?” the lawyer asked, looking directly at Charles. The teacher could see the man confirming the description he had been given; blue eyes, brown hair, short stature. The lawyer had not been told that he was a cripple, however – the account had been from someone who had only seen him a year or so prior, so it was not unlikely that the information was outdated.

“Yes, I am Charles Xavier,” Charles said, clearing his scratchy throat.

“Excellent, I have journeyed far to find you, Mr Xavier. I am Jean-Paul Beaubier, a lawyer employed by the late Mr Brian Xavier,” the man said, smiling at Charles, whose mouth dropped open at the mention of his father’s name.

“My… father?” Charles asked, the lawyer nodding. “You knew my father?”

“Yes, quite well, in fact. A man of your father’s standing, he required legal counsel often, and I’d like to think that he considered me a friend. I saw you once, when you were just an infant. Your mother had been holding you when I executed your father’s will. I have just been to visit your mother in my search for you, actually. She is faring well along the seaside. It seems that being freed from her second husband did her well.”

If Charles had not been sitting in his wheelchair, he was sure he would have collapsed on the spot at the news.

“So you’re calling upon me in relation to my father? He has been dead almost nineteen years,” Charles said, the lawyer nodding, a little sad at the memory of his friend’s passing.

“Yes. You are nineteen years old now, correct?” Charles nodded, the lawyer smiling as he pulled out a document from his case, passing it to Charles. “You may read it, but I will tell you the short of it. There was another part written in your father’s will that only he, I and your mother knew about. Even though your father was not able to spend as much time with you as he wanted, he loved you dearly. He was also a smart man, who knew that his wealth would attract unsavoury characters who may take advantage of his grieving widow and his infant son. So, he stipulated that, upon your nineteenth birthday, you should two receive an inheritance of 20,000 pounds.”

Jean gasped audibly, Charles startling in his chair.

“20,000 pounds?!” Charles exclaimed, looking at Jean, who was looking back at him with her mouth on the floor.

“Yes, Mr Xavier,” the lawyer said, laughing and pleased at Charles’s reaction, no doubt expecting something of the sort. “It is hard to believe, I know, but it is all written there. Your father knew that by this age, even if circumstances were poor, you would be independent. From the journey I have taken to find you, I think that your father predicted the future aptly.”

“My… My mother never told me. You said that she was aware of this?” Charles asked, eyes rapidly drinking in the printed letters spread across the pages in his hands. They said exactly the same words that Mr Beaubier had spoken, the signatures official, the seal ironclad.

“Yes, she became known to the fact right after his death, when his will was first executed. When I saw your mother most recently, she told me that… she had not been a good mother in many aspects. Maybe in all of them. But, the one thing that she said that she did right was protect this secret. She told me to tell you that she hopes with this, you can begin to forgive her for all that she did, and did not do.”

“I…” Charles started, mouth open in silence. “Jean.”

“Y-Yes?” the woman said, jumping at being addressed. Charles turned to her, a smile beginning to grow on his mouth, hands shaking with excitement.

“Jean, I think that we are set for life.”

***

“So now you’re a pompous and rich git, Chuck,” Logan said after being momentarily shocked into silence, something that did not happen often. Ororo just stared at Charles, slack jawed, looking down at the papers in his hand, back and Charles, and then back down again.

“Professor, this is written in English, yes? Because I can’t seem to make sense of it,” Ororo said, Charles laughing.

“I assure you, Ororo, everything you read is true. We no longer have to worry about putting food on the table. We can even renovate the entire house, or by a whole new one! Or ten!” Charles said, wheeling over to lay his hand over Ororo’s.  

“20,000 pounds,” Ororo mouthed. “10,000 multiplied by 2. 20,000. Professor, you are a true heir! By dickens, you’re leagues richer than even Stryker, and we thought he was overly stuffed!”

“Speaking of Stryker. He knows your real name now, Chuck. It won’t be long until he finds out about your past,” Logan said, voice dangerous. The mood in the house immediately dampened, Jean coming to sit beside Ororo, looking worried. Charles could feel Logan pacing the room behind him, heavy feet clunking on the wooden floor.

“Will he do anything about it, though? I know money is not infallible, but the reason he is so revered and feared is because of his money. I know I sound like a complete arse, but I can out-pay him more than twice-fold,” Charles said, Logan snorting.

“Yes, you sound like a bloody arse, but you also sound like an idiot. Stryker is not only powerful because of his money. He is a man that is able to use your weaknesses against you. He will incite fear amongst the people, and – you know these are not my thoughts – but when he finds out your…” Logan started, Jean clearing her throat and piping up.

“Your proclivities,” she supplied carefully, Logan rolling his eyes.

“I was going to say ‘when he finds out about your love for cock’, but that works too,” Logan said, the girls blushing while Charles spluttered. “Anyway, Stryker is not above using those despicable tactics. He will think that you are a threat because of your wealth. Chuck, this is my opinion, but you can’t stay here.”

Charles’s heart dropped in his chest, eyes wide as he twisted in his chair to look at Logan.

“Are you asking me to leave?” Charles whispered, his sisters also turning to their older brother with shocked faces, as pained as Charles.

“Logan, you must be speaking in jest,” Jean said, reaching to grab Charles’s hand, like her slender fingers could tether him to their side.

“Yes, brother! Charles is family, I can’t believe you’re talking about throwing him out! We know you love him, too!” Ororo said, Charles blushing, catching Logan’s eye. The older man just huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You lot think so highly of me. I’m wounded,” Logan said sarcastically, leaning to against the back of the chaise. “I said that Chuck should leave, but I didn’t say that he would leave alone.”

 Charles’s heart warmed, Logan smiling a little as Jean and Ororo let out relieved sighs, the latter hitting Logan’s arm for making them think about something as horrible as parting from Charles.

“But if we all leave, we would be abandoning the children,” Charles said, frowning at the thought. “We are the only teachers here, they’d be left with no one to guide them.”

“Stryker would be able to find new teachers eventually,” Logan said, shrugging. “He’d probably just have to empty his bloated pockets some more. Just because you’re filthy rich, you can’t forget that Stryker does have a comfortable sum too, Chuck.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?” Charles sighed, Logan whistling, shaking his head. “Very well. I don’t feel completely comfortable with leaving the children, but Stryker is a dangerous man and I don’t want to endanger you all. I’ll at least leave the school with a sum of money – the pastor is a good and honest man, he can at least use it to help sustain the children in our absence, until new teachers are found.”

“Selfless as always, Professor,” Jean said, shaking her head fondly. “Let us begin to pack, then. Stryker will get information soon, so it is best if we vanish long before then.”

***

After living a frugal life for years, Jean and Ororo found it hard to part with things, even after Charles assured them that they could buy everything anew. So, they just packed their clothes and toiletries, and things that were particularly sentimental, like family sketches, Logan and Jean’s mother’s keepsakes, some books. Their travel cases were packed full to bursting, Logan having to stomp on them so they latched closed.

They made plans to leave in two days’ time. It took couriers at least two days to get to their parish from any of the larger cities, including that of Ironfield. Charles had given the pastor a sum of 2000 pounds, telling him that it may be best to tell no other soul about it. The pastor had understood, the large amount of money likely to spark a frenzy in the small parish. The pastor had thanked Charles for the donation, telling him that they would use it wisely.

It was now the eve of their departure, and Jean and Ororo were in their room trying to sleep, but too excited to do so successfully. Charles could hear them whispering about going on their first long carriage journey, smiling at his sisters before wheeling himself to his and Logan’s room.

Logan was busy neatening up some of the things on Charles’s desk, and turned when he heard the teacher enter.

“We’re leaving tomorrow, but Chuck, do you even know where you’re going to go?” Logan asked, Charles tapping on the arm rest of his chair, biting his lower lip. Logan waited for Charles to answer, but when he didn’t, he stopped organising Charles’s books to turn to the man. “Chuck?”

“I… Logan. If I… If I said that I would go back there, would you oppose it? Would you still want to come with me?” Charles asked, Logan blinking.

“By there you mean… to Erik?” Logan’s voice was even, and Charles could not pick out his feelings on the matter based on his voice and expression.

“Yes. Apart from here, Ironfield is my only home. I know I could buy a whole house for the four of us. Gosh, I could buy us a house each, and still have plenty to spare. But…”

“You want to return to him,” Logan said simply, Charles nibbling on his lower lip again, nodding. Logan just shrugged, turning back to Charles’s desk. “I knew you would decide that. I was just asking to make sure that you knew what you wanted.”

“Logan?”

“Look, Chuck. I like you. A lot,” Logan said, Charles’s cheeks reddening. “But I know that you love that Lehnsherr man, and I know not to bet on a losing hand. You’re family, Chuck, even if I see you as more than a brother sometimes. You’re infuriating like that, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Logan,” Charles said, Logan smiling and shrugging again.

“It is what it is. Like Jean and Ororo, I just want to see you happy. God knows you deserve it, after all the shit he put you through.”

“You’re coming for my title as the most selfless git now, Logan,” Charles grinned, Logan throwing a wad of paper at the young man, who laughed.

“Sure, sure. You should go to bed, first. I’m sure that spending 2000 pounds without batting an eyelash earlier today was draining on your energy reserves,” Logan said, Charles throwing back the stack of paper at the man’s jibe, Logan letting out a husky laugh.

“Stop it, Logan. You know this money is as much yours as it is mine,” Charles huffed, Logan’s teasing smile turning gentle, the man regarding him carefully.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Chuck, but your father left that money for you. He’d want you to use it for yourself. If this is about you wanting to repay us for taking you in, you repaid that debt long ago. Not that there was a debt to begin with,” Logan said, Charles shaking his head.

“No, you don’t understand, Logan. I’m not doing this out of duty or debt. I… My father gave me this money because I am his son, his family. And like you said, you are my family. So I want to share this money with you, too. Please let me,” Charles said, looking at Logan with fierce eyes. Those eyes were ones that could make any one weak to do his bidding. Logan was no exception, and maybe even more susceptible than most.

“You’re still the most selfless fool, Charles,” Logan said, using the young man’s real name, just this once. “Now go to bed. You have a long journey tomorrow, and your foot might not fare too well in a bumpy carriage.”

Charles smiled at Logan, hoisting himself into bed with a practised hop and twist, having lived in his wheelchair for the better part of a year now.

Unlike his sisters, Charles fell asleep quickly. Before he slipped into unconsciousness, Charles felt fingers run through his hair, the touch gentle, but feeling more like a goodbye than a caress.

***

Charles found out that it had been a goodbye the next morning, when there were a series of frantic knocks on the front door. Charles had woken up to an empty bed in the morning, Logan’s side cold. Charles figured that he had gone out to make last minute departure preparations, and hadn’t thought too much of it. The man had always been an early riser, unlike Charles.

Charles was making sure that they had all of their luggage, Jean getting up from where she was retying her shoes to answer the door.

The moment she opened it, a group of policemen immediately stormed the house. The peelers were clad in long blue coats and stiff tall hats, imposing as they kept their hands on their batons. This parish was in one of the boroughs that had adopted a professional police force, and most of the parish’s families were wary of the blue coats. The parish constable walked in after the swarm of blue filled out the small foyer, Jean and Ororo standing stiff, alert.

“Gentleman? What seems to be the matter?” Charles asked, wheeling to move between the group of policemen and his sisters, looking at them with a frown.

“Where were you three last night, around the time between three and four,” the constable asked, tapping his finger on his baton, carefully evaluating the three of them. Jean and Ororo looked at each other, confused, while Charles’s heart thumped. Something in him knew that, in some capacity, Logan was involved. Logan, who wasn’t here right now, who, likely, had not gone to bed at all last night.  

Charles tried to keep calm as he spoke to the officers. They were still a new police force, and though their uniforms were crisp, they held a buzz of nervous and uncertainty. Whatever they were here about unsettled them, and Charles could only imagine what that was.

“We were asleep, in our beds,” Charles said, Jean and Ororo nodding. The way the sisters were glancing at other, they had also come to realise that Logan wasn’t among them.

“Can anyone corroborate your claim?” the constable asked, and Charles swallowed.

“No one apart from us. We do not receive guests at that hour, and definitely not while we sleep,” Charles replied, the constable narrowing his eyes at Charles’s slightly sharp words. “And may I ask why you are asking these questions, barging into our home without so much as a greeting?”

“Mr Stryker’s body was found dead in his home this morning, with three slashing knife wounds from sternum to navel,” the constable said, Jean and Ororo letting out shocked noises, Charles’s eyes widening. The constable took in all of their reactions; all three had seemed to have genuinely been shocked, making the constable’s shoulders loosen slightly.

The constable looked around the room properly then, noticing the packed bags, and how the women were wearing their travel cloaks. The house was neat because it was empty, and the furniture had been covered by white cloths with the intent to leave it vacant for a long time.

“You can’t blame me for being a little suspicious that you three seem to be fleeing the morning after a murder,” the constable said, Charles tensing imperceivably.

“Yes. You may have heard that I received news from a lawyer in recent days. There had been a withheld request in my late father’s will, and I have been called away. The others of Eden House are my family, and they sought to accompany me,” Charles said, the constable humming.

“You three are all teachers at the school. Stryker would not have let you all leave. Maybe that is why you…” the constable dragged his finger from sternum to navel, mimicking a knife being dragged down. Charles felt ill, and he shook his head, mouth a tight line.

“We would never do something like that,” Charles said. Even if Stryker was a monster, even if he deserved it. “And constable, I would like you to take a look at the three of us. My sisters are young maidens, and would not be capable of injuring Mr Stryker in such a cruel manner. And I, am, well. It is no secret that I am a cripple. There is no way I could best Stryker in this state.”

The policemen all looked at each other, mumbling ‘yes, he’s right’ and ‘of course’. The constable, too, found this to be a sound idea, but that only lead him to remember that four people lived at Eden House, and not just the three in front of him. The missing one was, by far, the most dangerous of the four.

“Mr Logan Howlett lives here too, does he not? Where is he?” the constable asked, the three family members tensing.

“Truthfully? I have not seen him since this morning,” Charles said, jerking his head towards their bedroom. “He went to bed last night as per normal. I would know.”

The constable’s eyes narrowed, peering into the bedroom, and noticing that there was only one bed.

“You two… share a bed?” the constable asked, shocked murmurs erupting from the congregation of policemen.

“It is out of necessity, officers,” Jean piped up, keeping her voice steady. “This house was not made to accommodate four inhabitants, and my brother here came to us less than a year ago. It is too cold for him to stay on the chaise like he did during spring and summer, so he was forced to share a bed with our brother. You can imagine that it would not be appropriate for him to share a bed with me or my sister, is that not true?”

Charles turned to look at Jean, head nodding minutely. Jean returned it by stepping forward, resting her hand on Charles’s left shoulder. Charles felt steadier when Ororo flanked him on the other side, her dark hand squeezing his other shoulder reassuringly.

“Yes, it is as my dear sister said. It is in that way that we seek to leave now. This house has become too confining for us, so we seek a new residence. And regarding the matter about this parish losing its teachers – I have given a weighty sum to the Father to help with the hiring of new teachers, and to support the children in the meantime,” Charles said, the constable now managing to look surprised.

“That was you?” the constable asked, staring at Charles. “The Father did hint that he had received a sizeable donation for the children. If that’s the case…”

“Yes, so you see, Mr Stryker – rest his soul – had approved of our leave since we did not leave him empty handed. We have no reason, and no means, to injure him so,” Charles said, the policemen looking at each other once more, before filing out one-by-one. It was only the constable that looked at Charles carefully, a touch sharper than the newly-instated fledgling police force. He seemed to weigh up some things in his mind, before taking a step towards Charles.

“You taught my son, and he has sung nothing but praises for you,” the constable said, mouth curling up at the corners. “And, you evidently care about the children, more so than Stryker ever did. His ‘care’ was only flaunted when it made him look good. You, though. You genuinely care for them, I can see that. So I’ll warn you – it would be best for your brother to not show his face around here any time soon.”

Charles, Jean and Ororo let out shocked noises, the constable just smiling, tapping on Charles’s hand-rest twice.

“Safe travels, Sir. Misses,” was the last thing the constable said, tipping his hat and departing from the residence.

When they were sure he was out of sight and earshot, Jean and Ororo huddled in front of Charles’s chair, babbling about ‘What in the dickens did Logan do?’ ‘That idiot!’ ‘Did he really do that to Stryker?’ ‘Where is he?’

Charles quickly turned back to the bedroom, going straight to his desk. The papers and books Logan had been sorting last night were still there, seemingly forgotten. But Charles knew that, though Logan seemed messy, he was purposeful. Charles rummaged through the papers, flicking through the books until he found a folded, slightly crinkled piece of paper wedged in the back of one of them.

Chuck,

You are probably angry, and I wish I could see it – you were always the most alive when you were angry. If you’re seeing this, it’s either because you have unpacked after you returned to that master of yours, or you’ve found out about what I did.

I know Stryker more than you, even more than Jean and Ororo. They were too young to know, but Stryker and I, we have history. Bad history. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say that I know what type of man that he is intimately. He has killed to get where he is, and Chuck, that man wasn’t nearly as powerful as you. What’s scary, is that you don’t even know the power you can have over people. I’ve seen it, and Stryker’s seen it.

Even if you leave, Stryker will seek to defame you and slander you. Even though you mean no harm to him and his empire, he will never believe that. He will try to destroy you, use your reputation about you ‘proclivities’, as Jean put it, to end you. The world is not like us, and would likely rather see you hang.

And I can’t have that, Chuck. So, I did what I had to do.

Since you’re reading this, know that I have gone far, and believe that I am safe. Ororo said that the Americas is wild and untamed. I think I’d like that. I can take care of myself, believe me. Jean and Ororo, though. They will need you, Chuck. So, if I can ask you to be selfless one last time, please look after them.

This is not good bye though, Chuck. Time is long, and I think that we could meet again, in the future.

Logan

“Idiot,” Charles whispered, as Jean and Ororo both smothered sobs as they read the letter from behind his chair. Charles rubbed his eyes, worried for this hulking idiot, who in the end, was really the most selfless of them all.

‘I’ll look after them, my friend. You can trust me on that, and one day, you can come and check to see that I’ve kept my promise in person.’

After an hour spent crying and accepting that Logan had truly gone far, Charles, Jean and Ororo took hold of their packed cases, beginning their journey. For Jean and Ororo, it was a new adventure. For Charles, it was a journey to return back home.

Charles could barely sleep the whole carriage ride, but when he drew nearer to Ironfield, he swore that he could hear that voice calling out to him in his mind.

‘Charles’.

Next chapter (10/11) →

[sasuhinasno1fan]

Skating with you- Lukadrien June day 22

So this is really description heavy and you can blame Cirque du Soleil for showing their ice shows, who of which I feel in love with and would kill to see and this book I read when I was really young that I always think about when I think recital about a girl learning how to skate and their first recital they did. The scene from Crystal is here and I could rewatch this part over and over and not get sick of it. I just kinda kept thinking of Adrien in Crystal’s position when I was watching the clips every now and then. Also, Luka lifting Marinette with complete ease during the Frozer episode? You can’t tell me I shouldn’t have him do that with Adrien. How could I not. So yes, Marinette and Adrien know who each other are, they’ve moved on and honestly, the poor girl needs a support system now that Fu is gone and if it has to be Adrien and they need to break the rules to do so, so be it. Besides, Marinette is the guardien now, is she really gonna take the Miraculous away because she knows who Adrien is? Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this, I know it’s pretty word heavy. @lukadrien-june Recital

Adrien focused as he was tugged on the leg to head to the person lifting him in the air. Usually when he pulled out the ice blue camembert and turned Plagg into Plagg Glacier, getting thrown in the air wasn’t an issue. He usually landed on his feet and even with skates on, he never felt unsteady. However, he was his normal self and the person lifting him up had dropped him more than enough times. He might have skated longer than Adrien, heck he was practically a professional, but he’d almost dropped Adrien pretty much in ever rehearsal.

Philippe, the owner of the skating rink, had a friend in the Crystal Cirque du Soleil show and he wanted to do a small tribute to them since their next show in France was going to be at his rink. Adrien hadn’t seen it, but he saw clips, his favourite being what he called the Family and Classmates act, where Crystal appeared in her family living room and students from her class appeared before everything went spinning at the arrival of the business men. Maybe it was the music or that last small showdown Crystal had with the businessmen as she tried to break free, but he could re-watch that clip over and over again. He was extremely excited when he heard that was the scene Philippe was going to do. There weren’t going to be any acrobatics or such, it was going to be replaced as much as possible by skating since he didn’t want to risk people hurting themselves. Adrien and his friends had come during free skate time only to realise Philippe was doing auditions. He told them to stay, since free skate would still happen after the auditions were over. So, he sat there, listening to everyone chatter about other things as he watched the skilled skaters perform. Philippe had a group of them doing the standoff part between Crystal and the business men and he could see they were having problems with where the person in the front of the line had to grab Crystal’s leg to pull her back and pick her up safely.

Adrien knew how to do that. After finding out Marinette was Ladybug not long after she became the new guardian, which had been mostly due to stress and Marinette blurting it out during a minor panic attack, (and also included a deep and heartfelt talk about moving on from each other and how it was better for them now that they weren’t putting each other on pedestals) there was an Akumatized skater with dreams of joining the French Olympic team, who’s sadness of not making the cut was taken advantage of. They pulled out their skater sides in order to dodge the girl whose main attacks where focused on her incredible spins as she came twirling towards you like a tornado. Adrien had been skating by, his back leg outstretched from a jump when Marinette grabbed his ankle and yanked hard to pull him out of the way when the Akuma made a sudden turn and almost knocked him over. She even used his tail to send him towards her with a Cataclysm, similar to how Crystal was sent to her partner who did a waist lift near the end of her standoff with the businessmen. To help them practice on any occasion where they needed to use the ice potion, they’d been using free skate and Adrien had gotten good at being pulled across the ice.

So, Adrien offered advice and showed the person how to do it. He made sure to point out he wasn’t a professional and he’d just been working on this in his free time. He did it with the group and when he got picked up, he just went with it. He might have been doing the lifts with Ladybug, but his body naturally just went to what he would feel Marinette do if he ever lifted her when they did the waist lift. He hadn’t expected after for Philippe to beg him to do the show with them. He tried rejecting the offer, but all his friends who’d watched him egged him on that he ended up saying yes. His dad didn’t even have an issue with it, which was surprising, so instead of going to fencing, he came to the ice rink to learn the skating choero. The other skaters were nice to him, helping him whenever he had questions but one skater, the guy doing the same waist lift, didn’t like Adrien.

Case in point, like right now. The guy grabbed Adrien’s waist and lifted leg, and Adrien put his hand on the guy’s shoulder. The minute he was lifted in the air however, he felt too unbalanced and it was either topple off and onto the ice or let himself fall into the guy’s arms. He chose the safer option.

“What the hell!” he yelled, dropping Adrien onto the ice on his feet. “You’re supposed to be up in the air, not falling on me!”

“You were going to drop me anyway. I was unbalanced and I took the safer descent.”

The guy scoffed. “You were fine. You keep doing this. Why are you even here if you’re not going to take this seriously?”

“Angel, easy.” One of the female skaters, Juliette said skating up to them. “Phillippe told you already not to lift him so fast so he can get his balance. You need to remember Adrien does this for fun and he’s a guy. They don’t usually get lifted into the air, so he’s not used to this.”

“Why the hell was he hired then?”

“Because he knows what he’s doing. We’re professionals and we couldn’t figure out how to do that move but he did.”

“Whatever. I still say pretty boy here shouldn’t even be involved. He has all the opportunities in life but if he messes this up, that’s it for us.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. People from Cirque du Soleil came to practise one day and after Adrien buttered them up a little, seemed very interested in the group who learned hard choreo with ease and changing adaptions. Even not so heavenly Angel was guaranteed a job with them. besides, his only opportunities were the ones his father picked out for him.

“You’re being ridiculous. You know what, I’m taking five until you get your head on straight. Come on Adrien.” Juliette pulled him away, muttering about how some people were pig headed. “Don’t listen to him. You’ve gotten good but you know you’re limits best and if messing up that drop just to save yourself from falling on the ice from a height is what’s best, then we’ll just have to go with it.”

“Thanks. It would help if I actually felt stable when he lifted me.”

“Well you’ve never done a lift like that before. It’s too bad Paul, the guy who lifted you during auditions couldn’t do the show. You’ll get it.”

Adrien skated to where his friends were sitting in the stands. Marinette, Nino, Alya, Kagami and Luka had showed up to show him support.

“That guy needs to take a chill pill. He does realise your dad might kill him if he drops you right?” Nino said, passing Adrien his water bottle.

“He just constantly seems to be in a bad mood. I’m surprised Hawk Moth hasn’t tried anything.” Alya said.

“Don’t give him ideas.”

“He should be focused on making sure you’re ok when he lifts you though.” Kagami said. She enjoyed getting away from fencing practise to get the chance to make friends. She had easily inserted herself into their friend group thanks to Marinette’s help. “that girl is right. You’ve never done something like this before.”

“Guess this is what I get for showing off.” Adrien said, sharing a look with Marinette. It was extra practise for when they fought on ice since he was a shield for Ladybug, but he’d rather go back to free skate if he was going to be putting up with the verbal abuse from Angel.

“Have you gotten any practise with him?” Luka asked.

“For a guy with a heavenly name, he’s kinda the devil. Refuses to even consider it. He just tells Philippe he can do it and because Philippe is so concerned with getting everything else right, he leaves us to our own devices.”

“That doesn’t seem very safe. I know it’s kinda a small performance to showcase a small thing from the show, but you’re not a professional at this. If you can’t get the chance to do it properly, you could hurt yourself.” Luka said.

“I know, but a lot of these skaters are working on other projects, so I don’t feel right asking them for help.”

Marinette perked up. “Wait a second. Adrien, you can practise with Luka! He can do lifts really well.”

That was actually true. According to the Couffaine siblings, they used to do pair ice skating when they were young to help Juleka’s confidence. They didn’t compete anymore but whenever they came to free skate the two would show off. And Luka had lifted Marinette easily that time they, Kagami and him had come skating that first time.

“I mean, if I was taught how to do the lift properly, I could probably do it. If that’s ok with you.” Luka said.

“Yes actually. That would be great. Juliette!” he called. When the silver haired skater came over, he asked, “Do you think you could teach my friend the lift I need to do with Angel? He offered to help me practise.”

“Of course. I’m actually free after practise if you don’t mind giving up your free skate time.”

“Sounds good to me.” Luka said.

“Perfect.”

When practise was over, Luka joined him on the ice and Juliette had him run with her the showdown part, so he knew how it went.

“So, Adrien has two lifts right next to each other. The first one is pretty simple. Same leg that’s used to pull him back is the leg that gonna stabilize him in that short lift. That same leg is gonna be the one you grab to lift him. He’s gonna straighten it when you lift him and that leg is going to be the thing that helps you keep him balanced until you feel like you can do it with just the hand on his waist and you let go. When you lift him, he’s going to keep his hand on your shoulder. The idea is that you both feel when you’re stable enough to spin with just your hand on his waist so you can let go together, preferably at the kinda climax of the part of the song. You two have to work together in this, think you can do that?”

Well Luka was Viperion and he and Chat Noir worked well together. He hoped it still went that way when they weren’t wearing their masks.

They went slow, Juliette gently pushing Adrien to Luka so he could get the timing of when to lift when he had Adrien and so Adrien knew when to push off. It wasn’t perfect first obviously. Sometimes Luka went to slow or too fast and Adrien wasn’t ready and took them both down in his panic. But Luka seemed to have loads of patience and was able to help Adrien figure out when to push off so Luka could lift him.

“Perfect!” Juliette said when they managed to do the lift with no mistakes. “Ok, don’t spin yet, find your balance first and I want you two to let go of each other.”

Adrien decided to take a leap of faith and trust Luka had him balanced and lifted his hand from his shoulder. He felt Luka let go of his leg and with minimal shaking, held Adrien up with one hand. Ok, Adrien knew he had some muscle from fencing and hero saving, but he didn’t realise just how strong Luka was. It was kinda hot.

Adrien told himself to control his bisexualness. It did not help that after his breakup with Kagami and the extra time he spent on the Liberty when skipping obligations, he was starting to notice how good looking Luka was. He seemed to have a type for strong, dark haired people with kind hearts.

“There you go. Ok, now let’s try it with spinning.”

Luka seamlessly let him fall into his arms before placing back onto the ice.

“Was that ok?”

“Yeah. I knew you wouldn’t drop me.” Adrien admitted.

“Well, not that hard when you’re so light.”

“I’m not that light.”

Luka shot him a smile. “You’re about as heavy as full-grown cat.”

Adrien fingered his ring. “Must be around cats often.”

“I’m fond of black ones and tend to find them around me a lot.”

Marinette mentioned she thought Luka knew. The fact that he was lightly poking at it but still made him feel safe probably said something.

They tried it again, this time with the spinning. They went slow at first, Luka looking up at him to see how he was before they picked up speed. By the end of it, they managed to get the lift down with minor stumbles.

“That was amazing! You two did so well. I’m very impressed.” Juliette complimented, their friends cheering by the stands.

“Well it helps when you have an amazing skater.” Adrien said, looking at Luka, who actually looked a bit embarrassed.

“Well, couldn’t leave you in a lurch.”

“It’s a shame you can’t do the show with Adrien. He’d probably feel a lot safer with you lifting him in the air.”

The two shared a smile before a scream broke out and an Akuma appeared.

“You think you can replace me pretty boy?”

Angel, of course. Adrien glanced at Luka, knowing Marinette would feel better if they split their potions between the Miraculous holders that were with them now. He hoped the same teamwork they just showed stayed with them in the battle.

                                              ________________

“You know, Chat Noir and Viperion have pretty amazing chemistry on ice.”

Adrien flinched as he heard Alya say that. Like Spider Man, Alya still managed to get footage of battles even when she was involved. During the fight with Angel, or Ice Demon as he was called then, they spilt into pairs to work together during attacks. He meant to stay with Ladybug, but they got separated early on and Viperion had caught him when he got knocked off his feet. Luka skated with the same ease as before and the two had managed to come up with a plan to keep Ice Demon distracted so Ladybug could use her Lucky Charm and get his item. Like they’d been practising earlier, the two worked together with ease.

“Like, I know Chat and Ladybug are really good together and Chat seems to work well with any of the other heroes but there’s something amazing about the way he and Viperion worked together.”

Marinette glanced at Adrien, shooting him a smirk. “Yeah, like they’re one.”

He rolled his eyes. With knowing each other identities, it was easier to talk during patrols and he let it slip how he thought Luka was cute. He expected Marinette to be uncomfortable with it seeing how she dated him, but Marinette jumped at the chance to tease him.

“Luka and I decided we were better as friends. Even after I got over you, it just felt like I couldn’t really fully be with him and it wasn’t fair. I’ll admit, I never would have thought to hear you call him cute. I wonder what he thinks of you?”

Marinette loved to tease him now that they were much more comfortable with each other.

“Adrien.” The blond looked up to see Phillippe coming over to him, looking upset. “Angel pulled out at the last minute. I’ve called other backups, but they all have other shows. I can’t even get my friend to lend us one of the people from the show to help. We might have to cancel the recital.”

Humbling as it was to call it a simple recital, Adrien knew that this was big for Phillipe. The performance was to showcase what would appear here with the Cirque du Soleil company and drum up business for Phillippe.

“What if someone took his place?” Adrien said, not even thinking. Actually, he was. He was just hoping it paid off. “Luka was practising the lift with me yesterday and we got it down. I think he could do it.”

“Yes, yes, call him!”

“Call who, where’s the fire?” Luka asked, his guitar case on his back. Adrien’s guess was he came from his delivery job. He always carried his guitar with him on his job.

“Ah Luka! Angel ended up dropping out and I’m short a performer.” Phillippe said.

“Did he now?” Luka asked, sharing a look with Adrien. Most Akuma victims didn’t give up on what they loved because they thought it’d be giving into what Hawk Moth wanted, but Angel had thrown a huge fit when he was saved and stormed off. Adrien hoped that he wouldn’t stop skating.

“Adrien said you learned how to do with the lift with him. Would it be possible for you to do the performance with us?”

Luka shrugged. “I don’t mind. If it helps.” Luka went stumbling back with how hard Philippe ran up and hugged him.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you.” Luka patted Phillippe’s back while sharing a look with Adrien.

The day of the recital, performance, showcase, whatever they wanted to call it, it was right before free skate began and €5 got spectators online access to get first in line to buy tickets for Crystal. Adrien could hear his extensive fan group screaming his name.

“Ready?” Luka asked, looking rather good in his suit. He had Marinette to blame for that.

“I guess. At least I know one person won’t drop me.”

“I try my best.”

And of course, he didn’t. they even managed to let go of each other on the music. He felt out of breath when he skid across the ice but he was sure people couldn’t tell with the huge smile on his face.

“Thank you everyone! What you saw today was an edited part of something you can see at Cirque du Soleil’s ice skating show Crystal, which will happen here. Your tickets today will give you access to early ticket sales. I am very lucky that my dear friend is part of the cast and I’m sure you can ask any of these performers about how much they enjoyed, including Paris’ very own Adrien Agreste.” He gave a small smile to the people. He then noticed Luka skating up to him and handing him a bouquet of flowers. “And Luka Couffaine. These two were our youngest performers. Please, a round of applause.”

He pulled Luka down, “Thanks. I’m sure they would have given us the flowers in the change rooms.”

“Who said they were from Phillippe?”

Oh. Damn it, with the smirk on Luka’s lips, Adrien was sure Luka was clued into his minor (it was minor, and he wouldn’t hear of it from Marinette, Plagg or even Tikki) crush. He hoped he wouldn’t have to deal with anymore ice type villains with Viperion soon. He had a feeling Luka would want to test something if it came to that.

[toloveawarlord]

can you tell us a bit about your ikevamp ocs?

*crackles knuckles* Alright, but hear me out. I have currently 15 ocs (13 of them being children but is anyone surprised?) I will certainly be creating suitor specific ocs, but those typically come knocking at my door whenever I am playing a route so it’ll be a few days before I get any of those. 

This is gonna be long so strap yourselves in fam.

I’ll start off with the first OC that I wanted created and that is *drum roll*

1. Amelia Earhart! 

I wanted to have at least one oc that is history based like the rest of the bitey boys, and through my research, I settled on her. Or rather, she flew her airplane right into my oc pile and said “pick me! pick me! I am amazing!” and thus she was the first oc for Ikevamp. 

Amelia or “Melia” as she goes by at the bar she owns in town, was plucked from her time by the Count after her final flight when she disappeared from time itself. In this story, she crashed at her destination but was seriously injured. The Count turned her into a vampire and then took her back to the mansion

I won’t spoil too much or there won’t a reason to write the story, but she ends up moving out of the mansion some time later and opens her own bar, which Arthur frequents as she assists him in finding women who won’t cause a fuss if he drinks their blood. Why did she leave the mansion? Guess I’ll have to write that story soon. 

2. Alara Bayar 

I’m a sucker for kids ending up in the care of the suitors, so I have my little baby Alara. Originally hailing from Turkey, her mother was forced into a marriage with a French noble and Alara came with the two to France. Her step-father barely acknowledges her, and is very cruel to the two. She witnesses an argument that ends in her mother’s death. Attempting to escape her feral step-father, she runs away and finds herself at the mansion late at night. Long story short, they vampire boys take her in as their own child. She was 6 years old when they met her and she has just turned 16 at the present of the game.

And now to get into the kids. Unlike my Ikerev Kids, I’m not planning on doing an origin toddler story for this bunch. I don’t want to run it into the ground. So instead, I’m going to focus on them as teenagers and have some one-shots of them from their toddler days or maybe do some headcannons about them. It’s up in the air at the moment.

Vanessa “Nessa” Bonaparte 

As a child: Generally a happy and good “sister” to the other kids. She typically followed the rules and doesn’t argue with her dad or “Grandpa Count” when asked to do something. 

As a Teenager: Loves swordplay more than any other hobby, sparring and training with her dad is her favorite thing. Attends a public Academy for school and is considered a social butterfly. She has plenty of human friends and cares for them deeply, despite knowing that once high school ends, that she will have to cut them off.

Lyric Mozart (Twin)

As a child: Intimidated by his father’s brilliance and cold nature, he struggled to learn to play the piano. He played the best when doing duets with his twin sister. Began violin lessons at the age of 8. Timid and soft-spoken, he was often left out of play because of his indecisiveness.

As a teenager- Prince Charming, according to his classmates. He solely plays the violin now, accompanying his sister as she plays the piano. He won as President of the Student Council as a second year student at the Academy. He is kind and thoughtful of his fellow students, but keeps the humans at arms length, afraid of rejection because of him being a vampire.

Aria Mozart (Twin)

As a child- Innate talent with the piano, reading musical composition was easy for her, but she struggled to play with how small her hands were. Much more outgoing than her brother, dragging him along with her when playing with the other kids. Vies for her father’s approval more than her twin.

As a teenager- More introverted and focused on her craft. She has a strained relationship with her father, feeling inferior to his skill and pours her energy into catching up with him. Tends to be a loner at school, spending most of her time in the music room, practicing. She struggles with her own identity as a musician.

Emery Newton

As a child- Overly curious and sneaky in nature. She blamed any and all accidents that happened in the mansion on Vanessa, knowing that if she played the cute and innocent card that she would not get in trouble. This only fueled her behavior to play pranks and cause mischief in the home.

As a teenager- Currently suspended from the academy for blowing up the science laboratory. She did it to spite the teacher who she claims is ill-qualified to teach them. She is currently studying along side her father, preferring this to school as she finds school dull and boring. Skips class often whenever she does attend.

Owen Da Vinci 

As a child- Ring leader of the kids. If they all played together, he made the rules and was the only one who could change them. Hated losing and would bend the rules so that he could win. Could be a bit of a bully if things weren’t going his way.

As a teenager- Exudes charm and is always surrounded by both girls and boys. He competes in horse races and is the captain of the school team. He drinks the blood of some of his classmates but uses a drug to put them into a fog so that they don’t remember. 

Alaina Conan Doyle 

As a child - Cried all the time for attention. Thick as thieves with Emery. The two were practically inseperable.The biggest troublemaker of the girls. Even as child, her blood lust was hard to control. She couldn’t enter a public school until high school. Her thirst was easy to quench as a child, since she couldn’t drink that much blood. 

As a teenager- Attends the academy but has to take a bottle of blood with her to sip on throughout the day. she calls them her smoothies to help with a “health condition”. In her first year of school, she killed a classmate by accident and was nearly banned from returning. Loves to play around with humans, especially timid boys. She cuts them to drink the blood without biting. 

Clarisse Van Gogh

As a child- Pure flower child. She loved being outdoors and in nature. She would often get lost in the forest chasing after a butterfly and would have to constantly be watched when outside. She likes to play with her dad’s paints and would rather spend time with him than playing games with the other kids. 

As a teenager- Still a pure bean. Her classmates refer to her as an airhead and gullible. She makes good marks in class but is typically doodling or daydreaming during lessons. She is willing to help anyone out no matter how busy she is. Paints a lot of abstract things, simply adding color and strokes based on her feelings. 

Malachi Van Gogh (Twin)

As a child- Big brother to his twin and his cousin. He often bumped heads with Owen if the other child ever tried to pick on the other two Van Goghs. He especially cared for Clarrise, because he could tell she could not fend for herself at all. 

As a teenager- Wary of humans. He did not attend the academy until Clarisse did, joining a second year when she was in first. He has no interest in art, but has a deep love for baking. He makes the lunches for all the kids attending school.

Knox Van Gogh (Twin)

As a child - Constantly felt like he had to compete for his brothers attention. He could be intentionally mean to Clarisse but regretted instantly because of her soft nature and she never got upset with him. He cried easily.

As a teenager- Bad boy, loner. He is the only child not attending school. He tends to wander at night, getting close to humans. He finds them fascinating in how they don’t sense danger lurking around them as a vampire would. He sometimes steals Clarisse’s art and sells it for cash.

Katsuro Dazai

As a Child- Quiet and introverted. He prefers to read books and play alone. He questions everything in his path, trying to find the meaning behind it. His favorite things to play with was sand. 

As a teenager- Still relatively quiet. He spends most of his time with Clarisse, either reading or writing while she paints. He follows her around at school, not conversing with other classmates. He finds her light to be so blinding that he can’t help but be near her.

Nina Shakespeare 

As a child- Nina was locked away in her room until the age of 8, not allowed out or allowed visitors other than her father. Developed an imaginary friend that she kept even as she grew older. When she was finally allowed out into the mansion, she hated the other children out of jealousy and lashed out often.

As a teenager- Aloof at school and unapproachable. Many of classmates are afraid of her. She absolutely despises discussing her father’s works as she blames him for her horrible and lonesome childhood. She creates dark and tragic stories to reflect her own feelings towards the world. Nina cannot connect with her classmates because she fears them rejecting her and leaving her alone.

Nico Moreau (The Count’s Son with his mother's maiden name)

As a child - Curteous and inclusive, he always tried to keep the peace among the kids. Never a fussy child. He did whatever was asked of him and thoroughly respects his father. 

As a teenager- Keeps up with all the happenings at the school, especially anything related to the other vampires. He is the one tasked with making sure that Alaina doesn’t kill any other students. He is suspected to be the next student council president after Lyric graudates as his classmates find him to be gentle and kind and very smart. He hides his own bloodlust well. He falls only 3rd behind Alaina and Owen in thirst level, but he has the most self control.

Lucien D’Arc

As a child- A follower of the other kids. He never stood out, and was called lazy most of the time. The only game he ever excelled at was hide and seek, and he  loved to be the seeker, feeding off the others fear of being found. Had a tendency to harm small animals. 

As a teenager- Learned sword play but finds it tedious and dull. Has a sadistic side. He loves human girls because of the smell of their blood when they are frightened. Rarely follows through with drinking their blood, finding satisfaction in bringing them to the brink of breaking from their fears. 

The kids are all going to the academy under the family name Moreau so that no one questions their original surnames. 

The kids are not set in stone fully, as they might get more siblings or they might slightly change. 

And there you have it! All my current ocs for the game! 

Let me know which ones you are most interested in! ^_^

-Ruka

[blue-collects-things]

The Losers Club + Singing

Warnings: Swearing (shocker), very brief mentions of Bev’s asshole father being an asshole, light homophobia and racism

Requested: Not implicitly

Author’s Note: This got real long so I’m just going to put it under the cut (like usual) but I really enjoyed writing this! I’m working on part 4 of YWISC, I promise, but until then, take these peace offering headcanons. *shoves this post towards you and runs*

((i’m so excited for this one!!))

🎶 ben 🎶

ben only sings if he’s 100% certain he’s alone

he won’t even sing in front of his mother, that’s how embarrassed he is

one time, bev caught him singing new kids on the block and he was red for a solid 20 minutes

she subtly drops hints around the other losers for a while just to see how red ben could get

his voice is decent, but there are songs he can totally nail if he tries and it sounds amazing

when he was little he was in his church’s children’s choir

he secretly wants to be able to serenade bev like in all the musicals his aunt is so fond of

he was dared once to sing karaoke at the restaurant the losers went to

he absolutely refused to go onto the stage alone

so mike went with him and didn’t take it seriously

ben thought it was hilarious so he went along with it and just sang

when he gets his own car at the end of sophomore year, he turns up the music he listens to as loud as it can go while he sings

only if he’s alone, of course

when he’s with his friends, he lets them pick so he doesn’t have to hear the comments about his music tastes

he likes to sing in different languages because it presents a challenge and he wants to be fluent in a ton of different language

like honestly, he gets super into k-pop when it becomes popular

but his favorite languages to sing in are italian and french because they sound pretty (romance languages ya know)

when he gets into a new band, he gets into a new band and learns literally every word to every song even if it’s not his favorite

🎶 bev 🎶

bev can’t sing for shit but that doesn’t stop her

the boys: please stop, i beg of you

bev: la la la i can’t fucking hear you

however ~however~ she can rap like nobody’s business

when hamilton comes out, she knows that shit better than lin-manuel miranda himself

she can do the entirety of guns and ships in her sleep

when her and richie go smoking, they open all the doors of richie’s car and turn up their music full blast

they scream all the lyrics and dissolve into fits of giggles

bev is actually a little self-conscious about her voice

her father always made her sing with him when she was little

and he would say shit like “mmm could be better” or “wow that was awful”

it actually hurts a little when the boys make fun of her but they always reassure her they’re joking

when she goes to concerts, she all but screams the words to the songs and the people around her are doing the same thing so she feels right at home

beverly fucking marsh, ladies and gents, gets up on stage during the high school talent show with one of the choirs every single year and raps while they sing

everyone looks forward to it

freshman year, she did the rap parts of Magic

sophomore year, she did the rap parts of Stereo Hearts

junior year, she did the whole song from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air

senior year, she did the rap parts of Alexander Hamilton

when she graduates from college with her education degree, the first teaching job she gets, she helps her kids learn the material through rap

all the kids love her because she makes learning fun and easy to remember

when she and ben go to homecoming together their junior year, she sings softly under her breath to one of the slow songs

and she’s actually trying

like she practiced

and ben is beyond impressed

“wow, bev, that’s beautiful”

and she blushes but won’t say anything

at the graduation party, she and the losers have, she gets a little tipsy after the adults leave and sings the highest, loudest song she can

it sounds phenomenal

the guys are flabbergasted

richie: we should get you drunk more often, bevvie. you could win tv show contests with that voice.

bev: shut the fuck up, trashmouth.

when she has her first kid, she takes three vocal lessons so she can sing lullabies to them

because she wants them to her voice

she gets super sappy when the baby smiles after she sings

she may or may not have cried

🎶 bill  🎶

how does one describe the singing voice william “big bill” denbrough

the answer is: you can’t, you tried, you failed

when he sings, he shouts

like there is very little musicality when he tries to sing

he gives bev a run for her money when they go to concerts

he’s the type of person who, because he is a writer, writes his own songs

and they’re really good, but he can’t sing them correctly

when georgie was little, he would always want bill to sing him to sleep at night and his parents don’t get it because bill’s voice isn’t soothing or sleep-inducing in any way

at church, his parents have to quiet him down because the picky old ladies look scandalized he’s singing so loudly during mass

georgie just grabs his hand and sings loudly with him bc big brother idolization, ya know?

(he may or may not stick his tongue out at the old women when his parents aren’t looking to stick up for his brother)

he never stutters when he sings and richie thinks this helps him learn to speak without stuttering

stan starts picking up on it and will quietly sing with bill when he feels overwhelmed and can’t get his words out

bill is amazing at lip-syncing 

the losers will all be listening to music and suddenly they look at bill who’s like in the zone and mouthing every word

then a cyndi lauper song comes on and if you didn’t know any better, it would seem like her voice was coming out of his mouth

it freaks mike out

bill auditions for a musical (the first and last) in college and the people listening to him are like “why is he screaming at us?” and defer him to stage crew where he finds out he can wield a nail gun like nobody’s business

he wants to privately serenade stan on one of their dates and has richie help him prep for it

richie teaches him simple chords on his guitar and lets bill borrow it for the evening, coaching him to sing softly

bill sings “i’m yours” and stan is smiling so widely his cheeks hurt but he can’t stop

“did you like it?” bill asks when he’s done, not looking up

“like it? i love it!” stan just snuggles up next to him for the rest of their date (and bill thanks richie a million times later)

when he works out, he always listens to music and can be heard trying to sing along under his breath (and failing) by all the employees and other patrons

when he leaves whistling whatever he had just been listening to, the poor woman next to him sighs in relief

🎶 eddie 🎶

eddie’s voice is unnaturally high for a boy but he loves it anyway (think mitch from pentatonix)

he joined as many school choirs as he could during middle and high school and totally was captain of the tenor 1s in his senior year

unironically calls the other tenor 1s his children

dude has the range of a opera singer

it’s more comfortable to sing in the higher end of his range but he can do the equivalent of a singing death drop and slide all the way from a b5 to a g3

always gets the solos when competing because he has such an impressive range

starts an a cappella group his freshman year of high school and convinces stan to join (we’ll talk more about that later)

they get so good, they start to do travel competitions

it’s probably the most diverse group at derry high because literally everyone that has a good voice is welcome to audition

a kid named taylor helps eddie arrange music and choreography even though they’re in a wheelchair

sings duets with his mom in the car because it’s the only time that they seem to get along without arguing

their go-to song is “halo” by beyonce

eddie’s mom is so highkey proud of her son and his abilities that most of the time she’ll just sit back and listen while one of them is driving until eddie says “ it’s supposed to be a duet, mom”

loves to vibrato it up because he’s super dramatic when he sings literally anything

he gets teased because singing and dancing in organized choirs is “gay” according to the bowers gang

ok one time, bowers made fun of him and the rest of the tenors and eddie just straight up decked him before calmly getting on the bus to go wherever they were competing

the tenors (and the bases) were like “shit dude you okay?”

and eddie says “no one makes fun of my kids” while shaking out his hand

and the tenors kind of crowd around him for a hug because they love their mom captain

he sings the national anthem a lot at high school games but one time, he was invited to sing it at a red sox game in boston and he freaked out

richie: you’ve sung this shit like a million times. all that’s changed is the number of people listening to your beautiful voice. now go out there and make hot baseball players fall in love with you.

eddie: *blushing* shut the fuck up.

sings lullabies to literally everyone and it soothes them so much

richie is falling asleep on his lap? lullaby

stan is having an anxiety attack? lullaby

bill is freaking about his stutter? lullaby

mike is overwhelmed by the amount of work on his plate? lullaby

ben has a nightmare? lullaby

bev is crying about her father? lullaby

needless to say it works wonders

🎶 mike 🎶

has such a low voice and it drives everyone nuts

he has all the girls (and some guys- mostly richie) salivating after him when he sings once at a high school talent show 

can harmonize with anything like a song will just be on the radio and he’ll drop in a perfect lower harmony that just works

cantors at mass on sundays sometimes and usually sings with the choir

he has a real knack for the baptist religious music and his voice is just perfect for it

his college did a production of “the drowsy chaperone” (A/N: great show) and when he tried out in a spur of the moment decision, he got the part of george

he killed it

also, he learned a tap number with the actor who played robert and the losers were thoroughly impressed

ben: i didn’t know he could move like that

bev: *shouting* that’s my son!

stan: *mortified* shh!

when mike becomes the derry librarian, he starts a story time for the little kids and when there’s music in the books, he’ll sing

a little girl only comes on days when he sings and that amuses him to no end

he plays classical music through the loudspeakers when he closes up the library because it gets lonely, you know, and tries to sing all the instrumental parts with his voice

he does the best with cello parts

one time, someone came in late and he didn’t even realize it and they started to clap

he now locks the door before he starts to clean up

LOVES karaoke and always drags his friends to bars and forces them to sing with him

tries out once for a really prestigious travel choir who do lots of shows in europe because they were looking for a bass

the snooty old man in charge of auditioning says “we don’t take your kind here”

and stan is livid when mike tells him about it

stan: hypothetically, if you told me their names and i went to their houses, what would happen if i killed them?

richie: jesus, stanny, remind me not to get on your bad side.

sings with eddie at ben and bev’s wedding and makes them cry tears of joy while they’re doing their first dance

mike’s twin daughters maisie and charlotte clearly have the same vocal skills as their dad and they sing together while they get ready for school

mike’s wife, louisa, has plenty of videos on her phone of them trying to sing around their toothbrushes

🎶 richie 🎶

richie tozier, my friends, is a wonder when it comes to singing

typically, he doesn’t try too hard and goofs off with silly songs

sings shit like “never gonna give you up” and “barbie girl” unironically

stan is neverendingly exhausted by it

stan: anything but blue again, please

when he applies himself, he drives people wild with his raspy, amazing voice

and by people, i mean eddie

he taught himself to play guitar when he was 12 and then when nobody would sing with him, he did it himself

in a stroke of bad decision making on the school faculty’s part, they allowed him to be the announcer at a football game and he sings all the announcements- all of them

richie: *singing* number 27 (bill) looking feisty tonight

richie: *still singing* when will the quarterback (mike) love me?

principal: that is quite enough

richie: *singing some more* you can’t do that (whole stadium claps)

every once in a while (quite often) when richie stayed over at the denbroughs, georgie would ask him to sing with his brother so that his lullaby could be a duet

for just a year and one year only, richie is in eddie’s a cappella group

he gets lovingly kicked out because he distracts not only eddie but a lot of the others in the group because he’s a really great singer when he tries

but he helped make a killer arrangement of feel again that they still use to compete even after eddie graduates

is actually very knowledgeable about music theory because it was always part of the youtube videos he watched when he was learning guitar

richie: you know, i think this would sound better with a major third chord instead of this minor seventh

mike: what

richie: what

mike: i have no damn idea what you just said

joins a band as lead singer and guitarist when he gets to college and gets really popular locally because of his “just got out of someone else’s bed” voice

you know those songs bill writes? yeah half of them are with help from richie

they start a youtube channel anonymously and sing them as duets with richie’s soft guitar music (think jem and the holograms)

they have a really niche cult following, some of whom try to figure out who they are, but mostly just to enjoy the music

georgie claims it’s his influence from lullaby time when he was younger (and the boys humor him)

🎶 stan 🎶

woo boy, where to even begin with stan?

he never sings in public and the times that he does sing are so few and far between it’s like a cryptid sighting

bev: i once heard stan singing in the shower after we all went swimming in the quarry

the rest of the losers: bullSHIT

but ~buuuuuUUuUUUtttt~ this boy has the voice of a god and he uses it like a weapon

stan: *doesn’t want to do something*

stan: *singing* billy, you know how much i love you right?

bill: *totally taken aback* not fair

he once sang in the talent show because it was his senior year (and he lost a bet to richie)

he decided to sing a sappy love song that was popular and the whole auditorium was so stunned it took them a full thirty seconds to give him a standing ovation once he finished

this boy is the only person in the losers club who can do any p!atd song, like any of them, and do an accurate impression of brenden urie

it’s a little scary how close their voices sound

his mother teaches him the hebrew prayers they sing during shabbat and sometimes the losers will catch him singing them when he’s not paying attention

he got tipsy once while he was out with bev and eddie and sang a super raunchy song on stage during a karaoke night and totally crushed the hell out of it

nobody believes that this happened

not even stan supposedly

bev and eddie: i swear on my life

mike: over my dead body did this happen

ben: yeah no way

stan: *winks at bev and eddie*

when he and bill move in together, stan will sing to bill when he thinks bill is asleep

stan will run his fingers through bill’s hair and sing something like blackbird and bill is just... goosebumps everywhere

stan sometimes knows bill is awake by the way his breathing hitches and keeps going because bill is the only person he trusts to be totally unafraid in front of

he can hit high notes like nobody’s business but only if he’s taken a shot of hard liquor recently

at the graduation party, he and eddie got into a high-note-off

a video exists somewhere on ben’s phone of the two just going at it

richie can be heard in the background just losing his fucking mind

stan never accepts solos when he’s part of eddie’s a cappella group and nobody understand why (again voice of a god)

there was a competition when eddie was getting over laryngitis and the only person who knew his solos were (drum roll, please) stan!

needless to say, they blew the judges away and won first place

~ ~ ~

There you are! I hope you enjoyed this little treat while I work on part 4 of you were in screaming color (which I have recently edited chapter 1 of and put it on ao3 here). Got a request? Submit one here. See my masterlist here.

[sockknitterporg]

I Was Adopted By Aliens: Interlude 1

Chapter Directory

"So what you're telling us, Mr. Connelly, is that a short, fat disabled girl from outside County Mayo is now our species' ambassador to the first credible reports of intelligent alien contact ever. These aliens sent a spy into a small town in rural England, destroyed it, and abducted your citizen – for no reason at all?”

The Irish ambassador's green eyes flickered close momentarily, and he chewed his lip in consternation. A single bead of sweat dripped off his broad, bald forehead. For six years he'd enjoyed a life of quiet bureaucratic drudgery with the promise of a civil servant's pension and an array of lucrative private sector kickbacks once he retired. Now, at the cusp of his corrupt career, he faced something horrifying – an actual crisis that might require him to show leadership, integrity, or – worst of all – competence.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Cohen. That's all the details my government has provided me. Ms. Carney lived alone in a council flat, quietly knitting her way towards a respectable disabled spinsterhood. MI5 recovered a laptop computer that had an impressive collection of pirated music and occult PDFs – and not much else.”

There was a chorus of self-important disbelief around the stately mahogany table as each member state's representative voiced his displeasure.

One of the witnesses decided to interject, regardless of propriety. “I bet I know why it was her, your honours,” the young man began. He was dressed up and shined up for his serious appointment, a far cry from the way he and his buddies had appeared outside Morgan's flat.

Talking out of turn was hardly appropriate at a meeting like this, but if the young man had information, the head of the UN Security Council was hardly going to stop him. “Yes? Mr...” He glanced down at his notes.  “Harty? You witnessed the incident firsthand, yes?”

“Yeah, er, yes, your honour,” he said, not sure what the proper title for the intimidating man was. “The thing touched down in the woods outside town, and me and my mates had been having a drink by the bridge. I'd almost think it was the alcohol, except you can see it turned out real. We went to investigate, and the thing came out of its shuttle thing, and the thing took off again soon as it got out. It didn't seem like it were expecting us, we gave it a good spook. It took off towards town, we chased it into the marketplace. Morgan's up all hours, her door was probably the first one it saw with a light on.”

“So a small, disabled girl opened her door to an alien? And what, let it in?”

“She was always a weird one, sir. Talking about faeries and shit... Er. Your pardon, sir.”

“Usually that's presented to this committee as 'merde', boy, but go on.” The French ambassador gave an indulgent smile to the rough-cut youth. It was obvious they weren't going to get anything useful – what the American would call 'actionable intelligence' – out of the young man unless he were made very, very comfortable. Already the boy showed signs of chafing in the ill-fitting suit and technicolour tie. “What else do you know about Ms. Carney?”

“Well, we think she was a witch. Always kept a short broom outside the door. She called it a 'besom' and said it was for sweeping bad spirits like us away.”

“Besom.”

“Yes, sir. She chased me and the lads out her garden once, when we was just picking tomatoes.”

“And you think this has something to do with the aliens?”

“Well, the tomatoes were very good. My uncle said he hadn't got anything to grew that year at all, even with extra Round-Up, Miracle Gro, and all sorts. He said he put a goddamn ton of nitrogen on each bloody acre, and still couldn't get naught to grow.”

“But Ms. Carney could.”

“Yes. The way my uncle figures it, it was to get the secret of her tomatoes that ol' Witch Morgan was kidnapped.”

“Mr. Harty.”

“Good enough to win an award, he said.”

“Mr Harty.”

“She talks to them, too.”

“You saw her talk to the alien?”

“No, the tomatoes! Calls them by name, tells them to grow, promises to teach each leaf and bud a faerie song when it blooms.”

“Mr. Harty!”

“Why, once I even heard her sing in that awful tongue-chewing language of hers. Did you know she didn't speak proper English? She taught those tomatoes to speak Gaeilge.”

“MR. HARTY!”

The boy blinked, coughed, then stared sheepishly at the battery of stone-faced middle-aged men before him. “I'm sorry, sir. It's just that witches shouldn't be consorting with aliens, not in this day and age, should they?”

Fourteen hands found seven foreheads in percussive unison as the young man was wordlessly escorted from the stuffy chamber.

“This is bad,” the American ambassador summarized.

“This is very bad,” his British and German counterparts agreed. The German's voice had a harsher tone, though.

“I disagree, your excellencies,” a thin, reedy voice dissented. The Chinese representative on the U.N. Security Council was a slender-faced and youthful man. It was rumored he'd risen through the diplomatic ranks faster than any of his generation, and now he looked almost out of place amidst the rest of the council. “Yes, there is definite matter for concern, but my country sees this as an opportunity. Yes, the aliens should make reparations for destroying the buildings, and compensate the young woman for her time, but this is a chance to learn from a species that has mastered technology that remains far beyond our collective scientists.”

“How do we know she wasn't working with them? Everyone in her town agrees that she's not like us, and no one knows why she chose to move to the UK in the first place. For all we know, she's been an alien spy for the past ten years,” the British representative said.

“We do have her parents here,” the Russian representative pointed out. “When was the last time they spoke to her?”

Morgan's parents were ushered in, and the question was repeated. “I haven't heard from her since she moved,” her father answered.

“I have, she used to call quite regularly, but she never wants to talk to you,” her mother added, giving the man a displeased look.  “But over time, the calls petered out, sometimes she'd call twice a year, then once, then she stopped about three years ago,” she explained.

“And you have no idea why this is?”

“Well...” The woman trailed off, while her husband folded his arms in obvious anger.

“She's just a bad daughter,” the man said, with enough anger dripping off of his voice to lay plain that there was more to that story.

“Oh, be quiet, Peter,” the woman exclaimed. “She doesn't call because you treated her so badly that she doesn't want to talk to you!”

“Oh, and you were so much better!” he shouted, his raised voice causing the woman to flinch reflexively. “Weren't you the one who told her she was only faking being disabled because she was jealous of you?”

“You didn't believe her either! Besides, you're the one that decided to try beating it out of her!”

Once again the council was beyond belief at the disaster taking place inside its walls, and the arguing pair were led back out again, bickering as they went.

“This meeting is turning into a circus,” the French ambassador sighed, once again dropping his head into his hands.

“Agreed,” the chairman said. “Right now, we need to work as fast as we can to decipher what those plans will make. What kind of machine could possibly require that much rare earths?”

“Until we can determine what kind of machine it is, obviously the safest course of action is to agree that no one is to attempt building it,” the Russian representative suggested.

“Agreed,” the Chinese representative said. The more countries were discouraged from building the thing, the more likely China would be to complete theirs first.  Unfortunately, as each representative agreed in turn, that was the primary thought for each of them.

“Is there any chance of any private citizen being able to follow the plans?” the German representative asked, peering at the American representative intently.

“Elon Musk could feasibly do it, but the CIA has already reached out to him to advise him against it,” the American representative answered. “This would be so much easier if we could just cover up the entire thing.”

“With their broadcasts coming through on every television frequency around the world, we can't possibly keep this information from the public. I'm sure you're not surprised to learn that the aliens are transmitting both digital and analog signals. I read a story in Der Spiegel this morning that an American couple in Wyoming found the alien programming on every channel of their television, plus AM and FM frequencies, even UHF.”

The American ambassador nodded silently. The time for a coverup had long passed.

A bell chimed from not far outside the stale chamber: it was time for tea. Thus prompted, the UK representative attempted to move the meeting forward. “Excellencies,” his flat, neutral tone began, “let us assume for the sake of argument that we can – however briefly – take the aliens at their word. Let us say that the instructions they have provided will enable us to communicate with their ship, that this alien wireless won't blow us up, fry our flesh, or sabotage our electronics. It's possible the aliens blew up the council flat by accident, and that they merely wished to protect the life of one of their species. It may very well be that Ms. Carney was involved by complete accident.

“Now, I know how preposterous this all sounds – we know that the only reason an alien race would attempt to land and spy on us is to prepare for conquest – but hear me out! The technological advances necessary for interstellar travel necessitate certain discoveries such as gunpowder and explosives, not to mention jet fuel. For all the nuisance of this mess, they've scarcely done a million pounds damage to an entirely forgettable Northumbrian village. I submit that they could have done much more. I would have expected a second scouting party by now, one armed with what I once heard termed 'BFGs',” he said, referencing the colloquialism for ‘big fucking guns’.

“Instead, there has been a flood of data, gentlemen. Just a constant stream of instructions to build something, something they promise us will allow us to communicate with them. If we take the hypothetical that this really is what it claims to be, then that leaves just one question, or two really, but the second follows on from the first. We still don't know why the aliens want to speak to Ireland,” he said, just a hint of the ancient rivalry between the two islands creeping into his voice. “And then, that leads us to ask, should we let them?”

The Irish ambassador was still sweating, it really had been too much to hope for that that line of inquiry had been put to rest. He certainly wasn't going to stick his neck out by arguing in favour of talking to the aliens, but despite staying silent, all eyes were once again on him. “Your excellencies,” he began falteringly. “Do you think it's possible that she's just...asking to 'call home'?”

The door opened and a member of the CIA stepped inside. “Your excellencies, there has been an urgent development.”

The room went dead silent, and the US ambassador motioned for him to speak.

“A weather balloon was launched from southern Idaho almost two hours ago.  It reached its peak with a camera streaming to Facebook, registering four ships in orbit.  It was brought aboard one of the ships, terminating the feed when the hangar closed.”

[asthmaticjedi]

hey it's valentine's day, sort of! happy valentine's day to @dangerousvirgin, who requested old men dancing in the moonlight, jack picking up gabe and spinning him around in a lover’s embrace, and maximum cheese! event was organized by the lovely people of @r76valentines

cross posted on ao3 here!

beta’d by the amazing @principles ;3;

“First pet.”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“Even if I do know, I reiterate.” Gabriel pinned him with an unamused look. “First pet.”

Jack sighed and draped himself over the log he claimed as a bench. “Golden retriever named Bailey. And admit it, you’re running out of questions.”

Gabriel shrugged, and Jack took the moment of silence to admire the way the moon and starlight lit up his features. For once, he was glad for Gabriel’s no-artificial-light-at-camp rule. “You got anything better to ask for round six of twenty questions?”

“Fair point.” Jack fiddled with the stick he’d been trying to whittle and squinted at it. If he tilted his head a little to the right and held it juuuuust right, it sort of looked like a hedgehog. “Favorite music genre?”

“Jazz and EDM. First dance?”

“You’re asking a lot of ‘first’ questions,” Jack remarked. Gabriel gave him a smile.

“Just answer the damn question.” Jack thought for a moment and felt a smile spread across his face.

“Fifth grade, my grade school.” Jack sighed dreamily. “Lucas Rogers and I snuck out and held hands until Mrs. Adams found us and dragged us back to the gym. Best hour and a half of my life.”

“That’s not what you said last week when I let you detonate that omnium,” Gabriel accused.

Jack laughed. “Fair enough. Top five, then. And I’m not saying the order, so you can’t ask that for your next question.”

“Damn.”

Jack squinted. “Now I’m curious. What’s your first dance?”

“Preschool. My moms wanted me to do piano lessons so I asked if we could compromise for ballet.”

“That is…” Amazing. Fantastic. Perfect, just like you. “Not what I expected from someone leading an international military operation.”

“I get that a lot,” Gabriel snickered. “Alright, next question. Is your shining dance career sufficient preparation for Ana demanding a dance from all of us at her wedding?”

“Wait, she was being serious about that?” Jack scrambled and hit his shoulder against the log.

“Yeah.” Gabriel covered his mouth with his hand and Jack glared at him. Rude. “And I don’t think she’d appreciate a farm boy stepping on her Louboutins the French Prime Minister and her wife gave her. Rumor has it the PM picked them out herself.”

“Ana’s the worst,” Jack whined.

“Ana’s pretty much the reason we’re all still alive,” Gabriel countered. “I think one dance at her own wedding isn’t much to ask.”

“Debatable,” he muttered.

Gabriel squinted. “You can dance, right?”

“Yeah, of course I can.” Not. Gabriel broke out laughing.

“Oh god, you can’t dance, can you?” he wheezed. “Don’t lie to me, dude, because I’m going to make you prove it to me if you try to give that bullshit again.”

Jack glared at him. “Fine. I can’t dance for shit. Are you happy now?”

“Kind of.” Gabriel gave him a shiteating grin. “Want me to teach you how to be a half-decent dance partner so Ana doesn’t spend her wedding night in jail or hiding your corpse?”

Jack nibbled on his bottom lip. On one hand, dancing with his commander wouldn’t be any help for his (metastasizing) crush. On the other hand, Gabriel did have a point and Jack would hate to make Ana’s wedding memorable for all the wrong reasons. Ana was terrifyingly competent at whatever the hell she wanted to do.

“Fine.” Jack heaved himself up and offered his hand to Gabriel with the best bow he could muster. “May I have this dance?”

“Slow it, farm boy.” Gabriel rummaged through his duffle bag. “You can’t expect me to dance without music.”

“Of course.” Jack rolled his eyes in (what he hoped was) an affectionate manner. “We can’t expect our prima donna to dance without his orchestra.” He peered over Gabriel’s shoulder and squinted. “Really? Ella Fitzgerald? You’re such a sap.”

“Girls love it. According to my, uh, women-attracted friends.” Gabriel tapped the screen and stood up. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Jack sighed. One ticket to disasterville it was, then.

“Alright then.” Gabriel’s smile glinted in the moonlight. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Jack tried not to gulp as he gingerly placed his hands on Gabriel’s hips and swayed awkwardly to the music, standing as far away from Gabriel as he possibly could. This was a terrible idea.

“You are the promised kiss of springtime that makes the lonely winter seem long…” the music player sang.

“Seriously?” Gabriel snickered. “You’re going to be dancing with Ana at her wedding, not a middle school dance.”

“You offered to teach me, not to make fun of me,” Jack pouted. “Teach me, maestro.”

Gabriel laughed again. “Okay, so your left hand goes here, and you hold onto my left hand. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Jack breathed. He privately hoped that his face wasn’t nearly as red as it felt or that Gabriel could feel how clammy his hands were.

“You are the breathless hush of evening that trembles on the brink of a lovely song…”

“Alright, you’re going to be leading me, which basically means what it sounds like,” Gabriel directed. “Use your hands to nudge me in the direction you want me to go to, and just… go with the flow.” Jack nodded and stepped back and forth, trying to follow the lilting beat of Ella’s voice.

“You are the angel glow that lights the stars…”

“Jesus Christ, dude,” Gabriel wheezed in between peals of laughter, “you have the worst moves and sense of rhythm I’ve ever seen, like, ever. And I taught toddlers beginning ballet in college.”

“I’m trying,” Jack said petulantly.

“The dearest things I know are what you are…”

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “Don’t be scared to move around your space. Or to move more than two steps in the same direction.”

“Asshole.”

“And yet we’re moving in more than one direction,” Gabriel teased. He moved his hand to the top of Jack’s shoulder. Jack tried not to blush too much. “Relax your shoulders. You’re dancing, not being interrogated. And quit looking at your feet, it’ll look like you’re looking down her dress.”

“Maybe I’m nervous that I’m being judged by my jackass commanding officer and stepping on his feet,” Jack muttered traitorously. “Or my terrifying second in command.”

“You’re a special operations military squad. Everyone is going to judge you. Also, be a little more firm with your hands when you’re leading.”

“Someday, my happy arms will hold you, and someday, I’ll know that moment divine, when all the things you are are mine!”

“Like this?” Jack winced as he practically pushed Gabriel so they were almost touching.

“Pro tip.” Gabriel grimaced. “Try to keep your fingers as flat as possible so you don’t dig your fingers into Ana’s waist. I have a feeling she’ll be less forgiving than me.”   

“Flat fingers.” Jack nodded. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s great.” Jack didn’t know it was possible to blush more. “Okay, I think you’re ready for twirls, girls love that shit. What you need to do is raise your right arm and twist it like this and… Nice!” Gabriel grinned and Jack temporarily forgot how to breathe. “You’ve successfully twirled me.”

“Well,” Jack stuttered, “I’m only as good as my teacher.” Smooth, Morrison.

“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Dammit.

“You are the angel glow that lights the stars, the dearest things I know are what you are...”

“Okay, now lead into a twirl. Nice.” Jack ducked his head, hoping Gabriel wouldn’t notice the full body flush that was currently flooding his entire body. “Okay, do you wanna learn a move that everyone will be super impressed with?”

“Sure.” Shoot me now if it’s what I think it is.

“Someday, my happy arms will hold you, and someday, I’ll know that moment divine…”

“Alright, I’m gonna show you how to dip your partner.” Now would be a great time for a surprise omnium attack. Like, any minute now. “Alright, what you want to do is lunge to the side, but make sure you keep both feet on the ground.”

“Uh huh,” Jack said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. “And then?”

“Okay, I’m going to pivot aaaaand… Wait, keep a good grip on me, otherwise…” Gabriel yelped and slipped onto the dirt ground, inadvertently dragging Jack down with him.  

“...when all the things you are are mine!”

Abort, abort, Jack panicked, wincing as gravel dug into his left arm. Suddenly, he found himself on top of Gabriel, their noses almost brushing. “Um. Hi.”

“Hey,” Gabriel said in a dangerously high voice, his face noticeably turning pink. “So, uh…”

“Fancy seeing you down here,” Jack laughed nervously. “You come here often?”

“I try not to, since. You know.” Gabriel gestured around himself. “It’s the ground.”

“Yeah…” Their noses were definitely touching now. Oh god, it’s happening. It’s definitely happening. Breath, Morrison, stay calm, hyperventilating isn’t attractive.

“Gentlemen!”

Gabriel yelped and shoved Jack off of him. Jack screeched as his head banged uncomfortably against the ground. “Ana!” Jack said hysterically. “Hey, girl, my dude, how’s it’ going? What’s up?”

“Couldn’t sleep, so I went for a stroll to double check the perimeter,” Ana said with a bright grin. “Everything’s clear, by the way. Just thought you should know.”

“Great! Excellent!” Gabriel smiled and tried to pull himself up on the log.

Ana leaned against a nearby tree and raised an eyebrow, the smirk on her face getting wider. “I wasn’t interrupting anything, was I? It looked like you two were in the middle of something, but I couldn’t tell what was going on.”

“Nope! Nothing happening at all,” Jack said in a totally normal and calm voice.

“Well then, I’m sure you’d be happy to know that I can relieve you from keeping watch now.”

Jack frowned. “We don’t change shifts until another half hour.”

“But you two look so exhausted, and I’d hate our commander to not be sharp for our op tomorrow,” Ana crooned. “Please, Gabriel, get some sleep. And you too, Jack.”

“You’re not taking no for an answer, are you?” Gabriel groaned.

“Not at all.” There was her signature shiteating grin. “Go on, time to sleep. In your separate tents. Preferably now.”   

“Demon,” Gabriel muttered under his breath.

“Sorry, Gabriel, I didn’t catch that, can you repeat what you just said?” Ana called.

“I said ‘good night,’ Ana!” Gabriel shouted over his shoulder. “G’night, Jack,” he said in a softer tone, flashing a small smile in Jack’s direction. “You owe me a dance at Ana’s wedding too, now.”

Jack laughed quietly. “Night, Gabe.”

The camp fell into the comfortable silence, save for the quiet rustling of leaves and Ana’s footsteps against the forest ground. He glanced around his empty tent, almost expecting one of his teammates to give him a knowing look and heckle him for the dopey grin on his face.

Maybe, if (when, he chastised himself) they make it to see Ana’s wedding, when the music has gone soft, Jack would hesitantly pull Gabriel in closer and search his eyes for any resistance, and if there wasn’t any, he’d softly sing the song Gabriel played for them, his voice anxious but earnest.

“Someday, my happy arms will hold you, and someday, I’ll know that moment divine,” he’d murmur, relishing in the way Gabriel melted into his arms. “when all the things you are are mine…”

The dream -- nightmare, really -- wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, but it didn’t change the way his heart pounded or the fact that he couldn’t seem to get enough air in him, even though his chest heaved in exertion. What did the doctor tell him to do again…?

Right. It is… He checked the alarm clock on his bed stand. ...oh-three hundred forty two, I am in Overwatch Watchpoint: Gibraltar, and my name is Gabriel Reyes. A few more deep breaths, aaaaaand…

Well. That was taken care of, but he sure as hell wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon. He wasn’t exactly in the headspace to go to the practice range, so a walk around the base and some fresh air it was.

The walk itself was peaceful. Some of the younger agents were still up, but they barely spared him a glance as he passed by. Late night wandering was pretty common anyways, considering that nearly everybody on the team came from a military background. The roof of the central command center was blissfully empty, too, so Gabriel didn’t feel nearly as bad setting up his portable record player and lighting up a cigarette.

“Thought you were telling me that those things were going to kill me if my own stupidity wasn’t going to beat me to the punch.”

“Still stand by that statement, Morrison,” Gabriel called lazily behind him. “But until Ziegler and O’Deorain figure out how to unfuck my body, I’m gonna taking advantage of my nanite smoke monster form in every way possible.”

“Didn’t think nicotine would have an effect on you.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I like the warmth.”

“If you say so,” Jack snorted and joined him on the ledge. But not too close. “You’re giving me secondhand smoke, though. Didn’t your high school health class teach you about it?”

“You’re joking, right? I got extra lessons about smoking and how tobacco companies target certain backgrounds.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “What do you want, Jack?”

“Really? ‘What do you want?’” he snapped. “I’m not allowed to check up on my sort-of estranged husband when I see him wandering around base at almost four in the morning?”

“You forgot the part where your ‘sort-of estranged husband’ used to try to kill you and destroy this particular base,” Gabriel said dryly. “We’re not exactly on the same terms we used to be on, anyways.”  

“I guess,” Jack conceded. “But I do genuinely want to check up on you.”

“Why?”

Jack shrugged. “We’ve been trying to reconcile and try to rekindle our relationship for the past few months, despite everything that’s happened to us. And last time I checked, people who at least kind of like each other make sure the other is doing okay.”

“Well.” Gabriel spread his arms. “I’m not dissociating, so that counts, right?”

“Not really.” Jack swung his feet. “Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, really,” he admitted. “Same PTSD we’ve had for the past thirty or so years. Just need a distraction for a half hour or so before I can stand being in my own head.”

“Need space?”

Gabriel considered it for a moment as he tapped the ash off the cigarette with the ledge. “Nah. Being around a warm body is nice sometimes.”

Jack nodded and they fell into a companionable silence for a little while. Gabriel supposed the combination of the cigarette smoke, the fresh ocean breeze, the quiet crooning of the record player, and Jack’s easy presence was helping a little more than he’d care to admit.

“Hey.” Jack nudged Gabriel when the record player changed into something upbeat and familiar. “Remember when you taught me how to not completely make an ass out of myself at Ana’s wedding to this song?”

“You are the promised kiss of springtime that makes the lonely winter seem long…”

“You mean the night where my subordinate, whom I had a massive crush on, dropped and almost kissed me?” Gabriel said sarcastically. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Dick,” Jack muttered.

“Shut up, I’m trying to be funny.”

Jack ignored that. “Wanna go for a round two? I hear human touch and light exercise are great during times of emotional distress.”

“Does round two involve you dropping me on the ground? If so, then absolutely not.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Believe it or not, I’ve actually improved since then. C’mon, let me take care of you for once.” Jack’s voice almost sounded like he was pleading. “Dance with me?”

“You are the breathless hush of evening that trembles on the brink of a lovely song...”

Gabriel stubbed the cigarette against the ledge and stood up. “Sure. Why the hell not?”

Jack smiled and pulled Gabriel close to him, close enough for Gabriel to smell the faint odor of whiskey. “When was the last time we had a moment like this? Just us. No politics, no wars or uprising looming over our shoulders.”

“Never.” Damn, Jack wasn’t lying about improving over the past few years. “We never had anything close to a conventional relationship.”

“You are the angel glow that lights the stars, the dearest things I know are what you are…”

“You think now would be too late to try?”

God, what I wouldn’t give to start over and have a normal relationship with Jack. “I don’t know if we ever could,” Gabriel admitted. “For starters, we’re both legally dead. Second, I’m literally a cloud of nanites in the approximate shape of a human being.”

“Someday, my happy arms will hold you, and someday, I’ll know that moment divine...”

Jack laughed as he sent Gabriel into a twirl, and Gabriel almost felt like they were in their early thirties, newly married, ready to take on the world. “As normal as we can make it, then.”

“...when all the things you are are mine!”

“I’d like that,” Gabriel admitted. “Despite everything, there’s always probably going to be a part of me that will always love you.”

“Me too,” Jack said quietly. “I know we can’t go back to what we had before, but…”

“But,” Gabriel prompted.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Jack said. “Especially when what I can get is way more than what I deserve.”

“It’s more than I deserve, too,” Gabriel insisted.

Jack shrugged. “You spent a little over twenty years emotionally supporting me when I was Strike Commander. It’s about time I stop being a shitty husband and repay the favor.”

“I was hardly the perfect husband,” Gabriel snorted.

“You are the angel glow that lights the stars, the dearest things I know are what you are…”

“Still a better husband than me,” Jack muttered.

“It’s not like you’re coming in without any baggage, either,” Gabriel pointed out.

“I didn’t spend the last few years being turned into a vape monster and thinking my own husband, estranged or otherwise, turned his back on me,” he countered. “Just. Please, Gabe, take care of me all you want, but let me take care of you too, for once.”

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” God, please tell me we are.

“Yeah, I think so.” Jack gave him a small, intimate smile.

“Someday, my happy arms will hold you...”

“Oh, thank god,” Gabriel muttered, not even caring that he was definitely jumping into Jack’s space.

Jack laughed, bright, free, and open, as he caught Gabriel in his arms and swung him around in circles. Gabriel settled comfortably, making a seat for himself in them. “I love you,” he whispered. Gabriel tried not to melt into Jack’s embrace. “So much.”

Gabriel winced. “I’m… not sure if I’m ready to say that out loud yet, but…”

“I’m more than happy with that,” Jack murmured, craning his head to kiss the tip of Gabriel’s nose. “You’ll get there when you get there. We’ll do this right this time.”

“...and someday, I’ll know that moment divine...”

“Thank you,” Gabriel murmured reverently.

“Anything for you.”

“Anything for you, too.”

“...when all the things you are are mine!”

[cassandra-acton]

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: Cassandra Alice Acton.

Nickname: Cassie, Cass.

Birthday: November 8th, 1986.

Age: 31.

Gender: Female.

Place of Birth: Oxford, Oxfordshire, United Kingdom.

Places Lived Since: London, United Kingdom.

Current Residence: Tower Hamlets, London, United Kingdom.

Nationality: British. 

Parents: Michael and Anita Acton (née Redgrave)

Grandparents: Edward Acton (grandfather, paternal, deceased) Renske van Ardenne (grandmother, paternal) Harold Redgrave (grandfather, maternal, deceased)  Hélène de Broglie (grandmother, maternal, deceased) 

Aunts & Uncles: Kathleen Acton-Fortescue (aunt, paternal) Charlotte, Georgina Redgrave (aunts, maternal) Lambert Redgrave (uncle, maternal)

Number of Siblings: One older sister, Elizabeth Acton.

Relationship With Family: To be honest, she doesn’t really have a relationship with anyone except Elizabeth, and her mother tainted it so much that even that one isn’t healthy. It’s a shame, really. As much as she knows she’s better off without them, she still misses her father, in particular. Cassie definitely envies people who are close to their parents.

Happiest Memory: When Harrison proposed to her, without a doubt. I’ll write about it someday. Getting her internship at Goldman is definitely second, though.

Childhood Trauma: I mean the parents definitely fucked her up for life, so there’s that.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 5'4”

Weight: 120lbs.

Build: Slim but very fit.

Hair Color: Blonde.

Usual Hair Style: Whilst working, she almost always wears her hair up in a ponytail, but she hates it. Much prefers to have it down. Keeps it just a little longer than shoulder length because of her dislike of short hair. Is too lazy to style it beyond neatness unless she’s going somewhere.

Eye Color: Blue.

Glasses? Contacts?: Neither.

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): For work: neat, formal, and inexpensive. Lots of form-fitting skirts, blazers and blouses in blacks and whites. Out of work: a fuck load of jeans. Baggy jumpers and quirky shirts. Picks up a lot of her stuff from charity shops because who has time for fucking shopping.

Typical Style of Shoes: Cassie is never without heels. Prefers bright colours and eye-catching designs to contrast with her typically monochrome/ greyscale outfits during work. About the only part of her outfits she ever spends a decent amount of money on.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: The only piece of jewellery she constantly wears is her engagement ring, which she has on a chain around her neck. She has three tattoos. ‘Hip to be Square’ in tiny font on the inside of her right wrist, Harrison’s birthday on her left shoulder blade, and a matching tattoo she got with her friend, Jessica, back in school, on her right forearm. Each got a hand from The Creation of Adam. As for piercings, she has her left ear pierced twice, her right four times, as well as her bellybutton.

Scars: A thin scar that cuts through her right eyebrow; a result of a drunken night out in university during which one of her friends fell down the stairs, and dragged Cassie with her.

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: When she’s stressed, she has to play with her hair; pulling it, twisting it, whatever. It’s about the only good indicator she’s about to rip your face off because she will do that shit with a smile.

Athleticism: Very high. Cassandra naturally has a lot of energy, and so expends a lot of it keeping fit. Rowed competitively for LSE, and still competes regularly with many of the girls from her old crews, as well as having joined a new rowing club. She also plays a lot of rugby, though never competitively. Loves running and endurance, and almost always competes in the Tough Mudder when it’s nearby, as well as taking part in the London marathon annually. Also gets involved with a lot of charity races.

Health Problems/Illnesses: I think she seriously wavers into depression sometimes, though she’s far too proud to ever get it officially diagnosed. PCOS and all its friends, which is not a fun time. Does over attachment to her dog count? Definitely counts.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: MSc in Economics and Management from LSE. Cassie finds studying relaxing, however, and often self-teaches about subjects of interest in her free time. Currently, she is working on a course in Arab Finance.

Languages Spoken: English natively, Dutch fluently. French and Mandarin intermediate. Is determined to take up learning Arabic at a later date.

Level of Self-Esteem: Very low. It’s why she aggressively overcompensates with an arrogant attitude. Partly to convince herself, but mostly to convince others.

Gifts/Talents: Surprisingly, she’s actually a pretty good violinist.

Mathematical?: Definitely. It’s sort of her thing. 100% could get a job on Countdown.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Usually, emotions, though she tends to berate herself afterward, because she knows—especially given the career she has now chosen to pursue—that she needs to learn to be more logical.

Life Philosophy: Someone else is happy with less than what you have.

Religious Stance: Was raised Anglican, but isn’t particularly religious.

Cautious or Daring?: Absolutely daring. Naturally, she’s a spontaneous person, and I     don’t think being cautious really lends to that.

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Being told she’s not good enough. Being criticised when it comes to her work. Being compared to her sister. People bringing up what happened to Harrison. Terrorism in general.

Optimist or Pessimist?: In between, leaning slightly toward the pessimistic side.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Extrovert.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: In a relationship with Adam Hassan, Shadow Health Secretary, and MP for Bethnal Green & Bow.

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.

Past Relationships: Before Adam, the only person she’d ever been in a real relationship with was Harrison. They on-off dated their whole young lives. They briefly broke up when he joined the army and she went to university because they were worried about ‘distance’ but wound up missing each other too much for it to be a permanent thing. Dated one guy briefly, Matt, a few years after his death, but it scared her so much it took her until Adam to try again.

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: None.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: Not having moved on.

Ever Cheated?: No.

Been Cheated On: Not really. Unless you count that one time, by Harrison, when they were little kids. He kissed another girl on the playground because Cassie had been off school for a week. She pouted and promised she’d never date a boy ever again after that.

Level of Sexual Experience: Cassie’s slept with five people in her life, so limited-ish. Harrison, a brief fling during her first year of university, Matt, Silas, and Adam.

Story of First Kiss: His name was Richard and she only kissed him because all of the other girls wanted to.

Story of Loss of Virginity: The first time she and Harrison tried, they’d attempted to make it a ‘romantic evening’ that wound up being so awkward, they couldn’t stop laughing. Eventually, it happened spontaneously at a school social after party.

A Social Person?: Absolutely. Even though she needs some time to herself every now and again to process all the shit that’s going on in her life, she couldn’t go any extended time without her friends. Cassie has to be in a pretty bad place to cut herself of from people.

Most Comfortable Around: Jessica, and her old work friends at Goldman—they’re the people she’s closest to, and are still like a family to her.

Oldest Friend: Jessica Mirzoyan, a friend she grew up with in Oxford that now also lives in London. She can’t remember a time in her life when Jessica wasn’t in it, they’ve known each other for so long. Basically a sister to her.

How Does She Think Others Perceive Her?: Cassie has an incredibly skewed view of what people think of her. She automatically assumes people think the worst. Look at her like she’s not good enough, just like her mother always did. I think that’s why she keeps most people at arm’s length, because she’s so scared of letting someone in only for them to wind up criticizing her.

How Do Others Actually Perceive Her?: Depends who you ask. Amongst the public she’s very popular for her honesty. Amongst her colleagues back at Goldman she’s respected as a professional cutthroat. As for her critics, they probably just see her as a stuck up bitch.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: To help as many people through her political and charitable work as possible. That’s really all she cares about. Personal goals seem fairly irrelevant to her right now. 

Dreams: To be happy again would be rather nice.

Greatest Fears: Polystyrene and spiders. Why do either of those things exist?

Most Ashamed Of: How bitter losing Harrison has made her. How she still hasn’t been able to get over the anger and the hurt it left her with.

Secret Hobbies: Cassie kind of loves to knit? It’s a good stress reliever when she’s too tired to go running. Not that she’d admit to it, mind you. She’s also not very good. All she can make are the really simple scarves.

Crimes Committed (Was she caught? Charged?): None.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night owl. Begrudges being alive in the mornings.

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Heavy sleeper.

Favorite Animal: Hedgehog.

Favorite Foods: Steak. Cheese and crackers. Orange jelly.

Least Favorite Food: Avocado.

Favorite Book: American Psycho – Bret Easton Ellis.

Least Favorite Book: The Great Gatsby – F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Favorite Movie: Burn After Reading. Gladiator. Mars Attacks!

Least Favorite Movie: Shitty horrors in general.

Favorite Song: Mr. Roboto – Styx. If you play that to her, she doesn’t just sing along, she fucking performs it, okay. (Honourable mentions for The Boys Are Back In Town – Thin Lizzy, and What Is Love – Haddaway.)

Favorite Sport: Rugby. Cassie can get pretty shouty about rugby and is a very dedicated Saracens fan.

Coffee or Tea?: Tea.

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Neither, thank you. That stuff is nasty.

Type of Car She Drives: A dark green Mini Cooper.

Lefty or Righty?: Lefty.

Favorite Color: Pink.

Cusser?: Pretty badly, although she does well to hold her tongue in public most of the time. Has had a few slip-ups that made the headlines. Luckily the general opinion was that it made her seem more normal, and it went down pretty well with voters, if not her critics.

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Never used drugs. Occasionally smokes if she’s incredibly stressed and has been drinking. Drinks fairly regularly.

Biggest Regret: Letting her parents fuck her up so badly. Cassie wishes that she hadn’t taken it so much to heart, now that she knows better.

Pets: The love of her life, Brody the Corgi.

[thecitylightshow]

(You’re Like) The Son I Never Had

So this idea has been floating around my head for a couple of days, so I’ve just sat down and written.... I apologise for the angsty-ness lower down but I promise a happy ending!! Also, @itsallavengers, consider this revenge/thanks for all the wonderful Tony and Peter you’ve graced us with. This is not the trans!Peter you were promised, but that is on it’s way. 

This can be found on Ao3 here

The first time Tony holds his son, it is with no small amount of panic. Happy had found the child left in the lobby of the tower, a birth certificate, apology and a DNA test left tucked into the basket with him. He has a small amount of fluffy brown hair, and he’s still sleeping soundly even as Pepper makes him pick the child up. The weight of this small baby in his arms makes him want to scream – this was never the plan, Tony can’t be trusted with himself, why would he be trusted with a child – but the child snuffles and curls into him, and the metaphorical ice fortress around his heart melts a little. The child blinks awake with dark dark eyes, and doesn’t cry.

Maybe Tony can do this.

(Beware the read more mobile users!)

“Come on Petey-pie, if we don’t get your hair washed then there’s no story!” Tony chides gently, and the two-and-a-half-year-old standing in the bath tub looked comically horror striken.

“Stowy?” he asks, lower lip beginning its signature tremble, and it needs to stop right now, or Tony is going to fold like a bad hand of poker.

“Hair wash.” Tony replies, holding up the no-tears bottle of shampoo. Peter eyes it with the wariness only a toddler can muster, but plonks his ass down in the few inches of water and grumpily allows Tony to wash his hair. Once he’s done though, all is forgiven, and Peter is hiding beneath a towel, giggling and giggling as Tony tickles him and peppers the bits of him he can reach with kisses.

“Dada, no!” The kid giggles, but Tony doesn’t relent until Peter eyes are starting to droop. He cradles the child on his hip, and wonders how there was ever a split thought of giving this up. The boy sleepily allows Tony to help him into some pjs, and is sleeping when Tony sets him down. There’ll be no bedtime story tonight, but Tony still sits on the edge of the bed a while, treasuring the moment. Peter will be growing up in no time.

   Peter’s first day of pre-school is tense.

The boy had woken Tony up ridiculously early, excited and bouncy and far too eager. He insists upon one of his special shirts – you wear a suit when you go to school daddy – and Tony is too in love with his little boy to argue. Peter’s rucksack is unpacked and repacked to make sure he has his best pencils and in the pencil case that Auntie Nat brought by, and he has his juicebox for break time. He looks so cute, and Tony has Jarvis takes lots and lots of pictures.

Peter is thrumming with energy as he holds Tony’s hand into the school yard, and then is off the moment a kid in the class invites him to play. He comes back, to drag Tony down for goodbye kisses, and Tony is promised by a young pretty teacher that his son is in good hands.

He cries the moment he’s alone in the car.

    Peter loves school – he’s smart, just like Tony was, but Tony isn’t just like Howard was (thank fuck) and so Peter can do what he likes with those smarts. He reads and he draws and asks Tony to teach him more maths. Tony does, and they spend weekends at the museum with Rhodey on his leave and Bruce when Rhodey’s gone, and Peter is quick and eager to learn.

He’s not afraid to be wrong, and he’s not afraid to be silly and Tony starts to believe he’s doing a good job. When Peter comes home and says he wants to build a robot for the future, Tony is immeasurably proud – but all the time Peter stands at his side at the lowered worktop bench, Tony is thinking away… The robot is only a kit, because Tony won’t allow Peter to be hurt the way he was, not yet not ever, but as he twists the bolts with confidence and follows the instructions with ease… bots for the future. Perhaps it’s time to change Tony’s legacy, to medicine and clean energy and all those things Tony’s considered before but been told it wasn’t his job. He can make it his job.

After all, what kid wants to inherit a weapons company?

   **

   The pain in Tony’s chest is a burning, consuming thing. Each breath brings it to new heights, and as his breathing quickens and the panic begins, Tony wonders if it might be kinder to have died.

It’s Obadiah’s betrayal that hurts the most, the unknown facts of who might stand with him that hurt next… if his company is against him, then what has he got left? There’s Rhodey, but Tony knows he’s paid for it now, and there’s Pepper but it’s not like she isn’t paid too… Yinsen might’ve saved his body, but Tony’s fairly certain he’s beyond saving his soul. A weapons company that sells to both sides is no good karma, and Tony’s own ignorance is a blight he’ll never absolve himself off.

They waterboard him to the point where the battery in his chest delivers him electric shocks, but still he just won’t die. If he gets out of this alive, it must be for a reason – and Tony is going to find it if it kills him.

   **

   Peter finishing elementary happens at the normal age. Tony had driven Pepper crazy wondering if he should have let Peter skip grades, and Pepper had slapped Tony upside the head. When Peter starts to get bored in lessons, Tony gives him things to do at home, and keep Peter where he is – he benefits, undoubtedly, from company and friends his own age. He comes home each day and does his homework beside Tony in the workshop, and then they work on a project together before tea. Tony cooks most nights, and once in a while Pepper will join them – Pepper never wanted, never wants children, but she makes an exception in Peter.

High school is an entirely different battle, because earnest Peter Parker Stark is genuinely just trying to be helpful when he corrects his teachers. Ned will stand up for him when they share classes, but often Peter finds himself in detention. Thankfully he learns – via Tony saying, teachers are idiots, Peter, but they mean well… here, correct that would you? and Peter laughing as he’s passed a recently published paper because this is child’s play dad, c’mon – and he studies hard. He joins band, and he’s on the decathlon team. He builds LEGO deathstars with Ned and laughs at Michelle’s dry wit – Tony likes that girl – and his grades are perfect in everything except gym (which Tony is never gonna judge the kid for, gym sucks).

   Tony is just revolutionising clean energy when Peter enters the science fair, and Tony ditches two important meetings to make sure that he’s there to applaud and cheer and embarrass the fuck out of this kid that he loves – and that’s where he meets Steve.

Steve had been one of Peter’s teachers in elementary – Tony isn’t sure of which grade – but now, Tony takes some notice. He’s come to see Peter, because he’d always believed the kid was smart and he was over-joyed to see it recognised. Peter comes down to see them both, first prize pinned neatly to his chest, just as they’re introducing themselves.

“Mr Rogers!” Peter exclaims, shocked to see him. “You came!” Steve grins and holds his fist out for a fist bump which Peter dazedly accepts.

“You told me to look out for you becoming a real scientist – and when I heard you were competing I knew I couldn’t miss it.” Steve told him, honest and happily, and he’s proud, proud of Tony’s son, and instead of feeling jealous or oddly protective, Tony thinks he might be in love.

   Their first date goes swimmingly, the conversation flowing from Peter to art to teaching to Stark Industries new changes; Steve doesn’t judge his past and Tony shuts his mouth about not liking art really at all. They share a dessert and Steve shyly takes his hand just outside the restaurant after they’ve playfully fought over the check – Steve didn’t care that Tony is a billionaire, just told him he could get the next one but Steve was paying for this one and he could suck it – and walks him all the way back to Stark Tower.

Tony sends flowers to his work the next day, and gets a hilarious series of texts about the kid’s reactions to them. Four dates more, and Tony tells Peter and Peter grins and tells him it’s about time. Time passes and Steve migrates into their lives and their home and their hearts over the years. He cooks better than Tony and draws better than them both. He’s no mathematician but he’s good at sports in a way that even Peter can get better, and if Steve hadn’t been there Peter would’ve lost marks on that history test. Because of Steve and his crazy adoptive Dad’s, Peter takes French instead of Spanish and talks and talks and talks all the way up to calling Steve Da-

   **

   Tony looks through the portal as he approaches it, and wishes for more time.

More time to build a life with Pepper, to be a better friend to Rhodey – but also to get to know the team who stand below him. The stars will welcome him, and the cold will return, and Tony will have known Steve Rogers, Captain America, for all of a matter of hours. It hardly seems fair, but Tony has lived on borrowed time since his twenties, and definitely since Afghanistan.

Time, he wishes for because SI has so much to do, and still needs an heir chosen if Tony’s going to carry on risking his life and he can’t get through to Pepper and Jarvis is gone from the HUD and he’s falling and falling and hoping it works. He’ll probably never know and it’s all too late and- fuck, the Hulk roars loudly.

Still got time.

Still looking for that reason.

   **

   Tony and Steve get married the year Peter turns fifteen. It’s a spring wedding, with only their close friends, and a few of Peter’s – Pepper cries and Natasha pretends not to, but James Barnes makes no effort to pretend he’s not sobbing into his girlfriend’s shoulder. Clint brings his family, and Phil Coulson plays a star-stuck aide to Tony’s Aunty Peggy. Peter loves his suit and hates his tie because he can’t actually tie it.

Tony and Steve cry through their vows, kiss their way through the meal and laugh through the evening (and the sex) and apologise to Peter in the form of a dog. Peter loves the dog, and actually kisses both their cheeks for the first time in years he’s so excited. He walks her every day and cares for the retriever – he calls her Karen, weird fucking kid – with all his attention.

Peter goes to Homecoming with the girl he’s been crushing on for over a year – she’s a senior and her father does fantastic shipping work for Tony, a family man who cares deeply about his wife and his daughter and his work. She’s perfect for Peter, even if they’re young, and Peter has this giddy, punch-drunk smile when he gets home later that evening and Tony’s so proud of his boy, growing up to be an awkwardly charming, intelligent young man-

   **

   -whip-smart and fast to match it, and Steve’s shock is deafening in its silence as the kid lands on top of the vehicle, shield in hand. Tony knew the kid had been a long shot, but he’s impressed. Parker’s taken instantly to the new suit, and Tony’s almost looking forward to cultivating that potential but first he’s got to deal with the stubborn-ass in front of him.

Something tells him that he and Steve shouldn’t be fighting, that they could never hurt each other – but the same thing tells him that the shield Steve’s just slammed into his chest is one he can’t possibly own, so Tony doesn’t listen to it.

   **

   Peter spends his last two years of high-school applying for and acing university run courses because he’s just that smart, and Tony is impossibly proud. Bruce is also impossibly proud, and Peter’s already being offered internships that graduates would compete for. He’ll go far in whatever field of science he chooses, and sometimes Tony likes to remind Peter of that, and make the kid take a break for once.

Steve also goes back to school in those years, finally deciding to go back and get the master’s degree in Art History he’d always intended to get before his parents had fallen ill and he’d gone on to join the army. He enjoys it immensely – rediscovering a passion for art that makes Tony fall in love with him all over again. He loves his boys, his husband and son, more than words can ever express.

He buys them stupid gifts one random morning in April because he loves them and he needs them to know and actions is just how he shows it, even now.

   **

   Actions are all that count in a battle. Should’ve thoughts and could’ve thoughts mean little when people you know – that you fight with and live with and love – are under fire.

The Gauntlet rolls away as Thanos is blasted backwards by the combined force of the Guardians, Strange, Barnes and the Falcon, and Tony knows what he could do, should do – will do. He staggers up and away in the heavy armour, only partially online, and tells Friday to rescind his own left gauntlet, she protests but does so, and Tony Stark raises the infinity gauntlet as a fist to return to the fray.

The power of it is over-whelming, but Tony has his mission – to protect his family, at all costs. It takes him a moment to remain in his own mind, not to lose himself in the realms of possibility, but he manages it, and turns back to the battle in time to see Thanos advance again, this time heading straight towards Spiderman, sixteen-year-old Peter Parker with no job still being here and a whole life ahead of him, and Tony sees red.

He steps from the armour without thought, still wielding the gauntlet, and heads towards Thanos. “Back the fuck away from my son, you grape-faced fucker.” Tony snarls – he doesn’t know whether he intends to punch him or back hand him or simply point and wish, but suddenly there’s screaming. It’s loud and piercing and yikes, the person screaming must be in no small amount of agony and- oh. That’s him screaming, he realises, as he fights with the gauntlet to make it do what he needs, to make things right and not break the universe trying to give him what he wants-

   **

   Tony wakes in a cold sweat, breathing momentarily ragged but it slowly calms. He’s not sure where the fuck that sort of nightmare came from – he’s going to have to stop watching so much Sci-Fi, maybe – but the image of Nat hugging a young Peter tightly wars with the image of a colder, harder women with lighter hair and jaded eyes. That women stands back-to-back with someone battled hardened and metal armed that Tony’s brain thinks is Bucky – but Steve’s beloved brother had simply served his tours and come home to Natasha.

Tony rolls over, shaking the image from his head, and tucks his face into his husband’s neck to sleep.

   **

   Tony wakes in a cold sweat to yelling, breathing momentarily ragged but it slowly and refusing to calms. He’s not sure where what the fuck that sort of nightmare came from is going on, but there’s large, calloused hands shaking him roughly, smaller – younger? – hands clinging to one of his own. He wonders if he’s still screaming but he can catch snippets of words and tries to cling to them. Dear sweet husband Steve saying “we were meant to have time” and hadn’t they had it already? “No no, Stark! Stay with me!” he calls and that’s odd, that’s wrong, Steve’s only ever called him Stark when-

Pain rockets through him again and hands clutch at him tighter and he tries hard to breathe, hearing “we need you” and “I need you”, sobbed and whispered like confessions at the altar. “Tony please,” comes like a prayer and “you can’t leave Peter” is tantamount to begging, and Tony wants to give the voice what he asks for but he’s no longer sure who is talking and the universe is screaming that something is so incredibly wrong.

“Tony? Tony! Tony, Tony no-“ the voices calls, but so does the universe, and he closes his eyes and lets it have him.

    The last time Tony wakes it is for good, with the bright white ceiling of the hospital above him.

His first instinct is to cry – he’s not sure what happened after he picked up the gauntlet, unable to let Peter be taken from him, but there’s a fake set of memories trying to settle beside the real ones and his heart mourns a life he never had. He sits up, and takes in the Avengers crammed into the room on shitty plastic chairs, and his breath catches in his throat. The first tears burn down his cheeks, sob torn from his chest without permission, and the second is choked off as he tries to stop, the third lost as a chair screeches across the hospital floor. Tony finds himself pulled against a hard chest, and he grips the shirt tightly, uncaring whose hands it is that hold him close.

“You’re okay, Tony, god, you’re alright, we’re all going to be alright.” Steve is whispering into his hair and Tony wants more than anything to believe it – someone else in the room seems to wake, and then there’s weight on the other side of him where he’s sat up in the bed, and thin, strong arms wrap around his waist from behind. “I thought we lost you.” Steve murmurs, kissing the top of his head as Peter cries into the back of his head.

People squeeze Tony’s shoulder as they wander past – walking sleepily and grinning to see Tony alive even if his heart is breaking – and soon it’s just Tony, Steve and Peter left in the hospital room. Tony wants to ask what happened, understand what it is that he did, but when Steve pulls away – newly shaved, in a simple shirt and sweatpants though his hair still hangs about his ears – he’s distracted by the love that he can see there. “I- Steve?”

“We all saw what you dreamt, Tony.” Steve tells him softly, one hand now cradling the back of Tony’s head, but the other is rubbing slowly – a comfort – up and down on Peter’s arm. “And I- probably should have mentioned, I-“ Steve swallows, and drops his gaze for a moment. He makes sure to look up to continue though, and let Tony see the truth in his eyes. “I’ve loved up since you flew that damn bomb into space. Though I guess I took a while to work it out.”

Tony blinks. Hard. Before he can respond though, Peter squeezes his waist again, and mumbles something into his shoulder. Tony, despite the ache in his shoulder, reaches back to try and pull the kid where he can see him. “Speak up, Petey.” He tells him, the nickname slipping off his tongue for the first time like he’s said it hundreds of times before, and Peter shifts to be hugging him side on with a tired, tear-filled smile.

“You called me your son.” Peter replies softly, and Tony knows that he’s thinking of Aunt May – Aunt May who he wonders if they’ve found while he’s be down for the count, if they’ve had the funeral… “I- I wouldn’t mind holding you to that.” He’s only half joking, and it comes out too weak, and Tony tugs the kid – still so unbearably young – down so he can kiss the top of his head. It feels natural, easy, even if it’s new.

“I think we can do that.” Tony says, hugging him tighter and looking up to meet to Steve’s smile. “We can do that.”

[damagemirror94-blog]

‘Siesta Key’ Recap: Is Alex the Next Ted Bundy?

We’re only one episode away from the final episode of Siesta Key and things are getting even more tense than usual: Cara and Garrett are at a standstill in their relationship, Madisson won’t take a shot on Jared, and Alex and Juliette are fighting and breaking up and making up so often that none of us can keep track of where their relationship’s at.

We caught up with Reality King Spencer Pratt to get all his thoughts on Juliette’s 21st birthday and he has more than just well-wishes for The Key’s stormies couple.

On Kelsey’s benefit for her mom...and Jacob's triumphant appearance:

That was a very tiny event for Kelsey to be feeling so many emotions. Maybe she knew she wasn’t getting filmed as much and was trying to get back the “A Story”? She went all in on that speech.

Heidi loved when Jacob showed up. When he got up to stand behind Kelsey as she was reading her speech, Heidi said, "oh my god, what an amazing boyfriend.” I was all, “shit, all I’ve got to do to get that kind of response out of Heidi is to stand behind her quietly? I’m all in.” Thanks for being an inspiration, Jacob.

It really felt like the producers wanted him to film, and he told them, “no, no, if Kelsey has any more confessions to make, she can do that off-air where my family doesn’t have to hear them, thanks.”

On Alex showing up to Kelsey’s benefit:

$200 seems kind of low for a donation when you’re trying to show everyone that you’re a good guy and The King of The Key. Maybe he spent it all on Pauly Paul’s bail and the diamond he bought Juliette. Though the necklace he bought Juliette for her birthday...I thought this stuff was supposed to be Tiffany or Cartier. That didn’t look like either. I did not see that trinket and immediately think, “oh you should definitely get back together over this necklace.” Maybe he should have just donated the $99 he spent on it to help cure MS.

On the performance at Kelsey’s benefit:

It was very nice of Kelsey to include Brandon and Pauly at this high-class, invite-only event to raise more awareness for MS, which I am going to google right now. Their performance really gave the evening the gravity and importance it felt like it needed.

This whole thing was a full range of emotions. You go from Kelsey weeping because she loves her mom and just realized she doesn’t know how to read, to Pauly Paul getting bleeped out by MTV and screaming, "let’s turn this place all the way up!” I definitely needed the mood switch, though, because I’m not trying to be crying into my white wine here.

On whether Kelsey or Alex is the better speech-giver:

It was Kelsey’s realest moment on the show, so I’ve got to applaud her for that. I definitely believe all the things she said about her mom are true—which is a first for our girl—but I don’t think anyone’s out here calling her a “naturally gifted speaker” behind her back. She should have taken some notes from Alex. We hate that guy, but his dad brought in a teleprompter to the Autism Gala. You can’t compete with that.

On Jared trying to win Madisson’s affections:

It seems like they don’t teach you how to spit any game in the Navy. Jared didn’t need to take Madisson away to some private room to explain how he’s developed feelings for her. It felt like he was about to ask her dad if he could date her, when all he needed to say was, “I like you. Do you want to have lunch and see what develops?” He was really taking us back to the 1800s here.

You know what it felt like? A bad ‘80s movie and Jared’s all, “I’m telling you I’m the guy that loves you.” Was he going to break into song next? He seems like a nice guy, but I gotta keep it on the real: If he had a chance before this little pitch he threw at her, well...he certainly has zero chance now. He should just go back to trying to steal Kelsey from her boyfriend.

On Madisson’s response to Jared’s proposal (that’s the only way to describe it):

She seemed confused. It was like she hadn’t thought of homey asking her out at all since the first time on the beach. She’s given him every sign that she isn’t interested and..nothing. Aren’t Navy seals supposed to be good at picking up signals? Because ol’ boy over here seems to be much better at riding Range Rovers.

I think Madisson was all “oh my god, Jared, you were a sidepiece I hooked up with a few times in high school. Why are you trying to Swimfan me?” Did I already mention her should stick to Kelsey? Because I’m gonna say it again. That’s how you stay on this show.

On Madisson saying no:

I’m so proud of her for not saying “yes.” That was a great scene for women, young girls, dudes watching this show, everyone. It was a good reminder that just because someone gives you a 10-minute guilt trip about you being “the one that got away,” it doesn’t mean that you have to feel the same way about them.

Can I also just say how proud I am of her for being the first reality star in the history of television to say the word “apprehensive”?

On whether Brandon and Madisson are ever getting back together. :

I like that we’re still playing pretend like #Bradisson is getting back together. It’s always good to have dreams. Getting back together with an ex has surely worked out for everyone else on The Key.

On Cara and Garrett getting back together:

These two aren’t just being awkward for the show—I think I’ve realized that they truly just don’t know how to interact with each other.

“I would like to continue” is a really weird line to drop on someone you’re planning on dating. I think Garrett picked up all his ideas of romance from The Bachelor. He was probably looking around for a rose to hand her. Should have brought it from home.

How weird is it that Garrett’s going on this personal appearance tour and inviting Cara along after three months of dating? Did you see how quickly Cara realized that it might mean less screen time? It was like, “do you think I’m getting together with you so I can be on the show less?”

On Garrett not wanting to go to Italy with Cara because he needs to work:

If he really wanted to talk about money, he should have just said, “I’ll go to Italy. Just pay my personal training fee and I’ll come out there and work you out. I have high hopes for you. Matter of fact, here’s a promo code. I’ll get your entire family fit with a mix of pre-recorded and in-person workouts guaranteed to make them sweat.”

You know what this put in perspective for me? The whole tour fiasco that happened earlier this season. How are Cara and Garrett inviting each other on trips around the world and Brandon wouldn’t even let Camilla get on the guest list at a show in Orlando. I guess she was on her way out way before the tour began.

Garrett can take Camilla with him if Cara doesn’t want to do it. Girl seems desperate to get out of The Key.

On Cara showing up to Juliette’s birthday party:

They must have had a really good talk under that freeway overpass. They must have gone for chicken nuggets after and connected over both wanting to be landlords. After watching Chloe struggle to sell fake houses, Juliette only wants to be on the buyer’s end now.

I bet Cara also made good points about what it’s like to be in a relationship with Alex. I believe Juliette when she says that she always has to do what Alex wants. I think he uses his money as a way to guilt her. He’s like, “I bought you dinner and clothes.” OK cool, dude, let me see the designer labels. Psych! Having money doesn’t give you the right to treat others like trash. Take that to the bank.

If Juliette gets her own boat in season 3, she wont even remember dating Alex. Can we start a GoFundMe?

On Alex’s gift to Juliette:

I thought that box was going to open and we were going to get a zoom-in, but we didn’t even get to assess the jewelry properly. I was really hoping for a big-ass diamond but what we saw was a trinket. A bauble!

You know, all the ladies on this show are all “ugh” about Juliette even talking to Alex, but if I were her, I’d just take the jewelry and walk. You can roll all the eyes you want, Kelsey and Amanda, but I don’t see you starting a mint jewelry collection at 21. So maybe just worry about yourselves. Juliette can accept all the jewelry she wants.

My only concern is that Alex has a real Ted Bundy-esque vibe about him, so I would say definitely take the jewelry but also let Chloe know where you are at all times. Don’t you ever turn off that Bitmoji, Jules.

Spencer Pratt's big concern about Alex and Juliette:

Alex thinks he can solve every problem with money. No one’s given him any reason to suspect differently, so what reason does he have to change? What I’m more worried about is what Juliette said about him not giving her any space because he knows she’ll move on.

That’s a huge red flag. If you ask for space and your boyfriend or girlfriend or whoever won’t give it to you...oooh, that’s a red alert!

I feel like we’re forgetting that Juliette’s only 21. She’s a kid. You know what? I hope she’s in it just for the jewelry. I hope she gets an entire collection. And I hope that she and her lovely french mother just pawn the whole thing at the local jewelry store/bait-and-tackle shop and buy themselves their own boat. That would be quality.

On Chloe’s cliffhanger:

Everything was chill and then here’s Chloe coming in with “the information I have now could change everything.” I thought I was watching Siesta Key, but now it feels like we’re on CNN. Is that Rachel Maddow in the back booth of the Tiki Bar? Is that Adam Schiff doing a presser outside? I wish Chloe would have worked a little harder on The Mueller Report because Alex cheating? It’s never new.

Source: https://www.cosmopolitan.com/entertainment/tv/a26963452/siesta-key-mtv-season-two-episode-11-recap-spencer-pratt-alex-juliette-necklace/

[florencefolly]

Gendarme Wants to Give You a Ticket

July 7, 2017

Morning comes earlier than any of us want. Travel days are the worst because moving from one place to the next is work. We could go the easy route. Hire a car. Slam the bags in the back and the bodies in the front and get us to the next way point but this is not travel and teaches the kids nothing. We exit the building and move up the street towards Meromesnil Metro Station. Jumping on the second train because the first is brimming with rush our travelers. No thank you. I am already sweating my ass off in the morning sun and emerging heat. We need to go 14 stops and I am not doing that on top of people with all my shit. We step on, each of us finding a pocket of space for our gear and bodies. I am dripping standing next to a young, well-dressed couple. He is wearing a smart bow tie. I pay him a complement in French; “C’est bon cravate”—nice tie. A moment passes and he asks, “Where are you from?” is damn good English. “San Francisco,” I reply. We exchange pleasantries and talk about Paris, telling him we have visited a few times. “You like this city?” Yes, we like it. I tell him that Parisians have an unfortunate reputation. He nods but I continue, “You have rules. If you don’t follow them, then you are not treated well.” San Francisco has rules too. I bet most big cities do. Knowing the rules unlocks the mystery. It starts with making an effort towards the language. The French truly appreciate when you make an effort to speak their language. American are no different. Most French folks speak decent English, even though they’ll tell you otherwise. Not true. They say same about my terrible French. “C’est bonne!” Your French is good! Not really but thank you. I cannot converse freely the way I would like but I find that the mix of their English and my French is good enough to connect with people. That makes me happy.

The couple are on their way to a wedding. They are Parisians living in London for the last six years as management consultants. They are together six years. I say that Robin and together 26 and married 20 this summer. “Are you married?” I ask. “No,” he demurs. She flashes a smirk. “Have you asked her yet?” I press. “No,” he mutters. She grins again. “Ask her to marry you already, would you?” I push. Robin chimes in, “We were together six years before he asked me.” I nod. The young lady rescues the boy from me by telling him they’ve reached their stop. We exchange smiles and they head off to the wedding they are attending. We have more room on the train now because we are further out from the city center—beyond Zones 1-3.

We come out of the metro and I suddenly realize that I have no idea where the car we’ve leased needs to be collected. I should’ve print out the damn directions to the pick-up location but I did not. I am searching my phone the address and after a few minutes of looking silly and unprepared, I find the paper I am looking for. Voila! I see where it is and orient myself the map on the back of the bus stop. I march us across a large traffic circle and into a parking garage where the pick-up office is located. Inside it is climatized—thankfully, mercifully.

Paperwork and passport out, I make contact with the agent. He is an affable fellow and we talk about MMA and the upcoming fight between McGregor and Mayweather. We think there will be multiple meetings with the two fighters. I get checked out on the car by his colleague and we load up and go. Leasing a car is easy, driving in a foreign country is hard. I’ve now driven in three European countries. Ireland, Italy and now France has made my list of places I’ve driven. The cities are the hardest. You compete as a neophyte with seasoned and grizzled veterans and most often they show now mercy. We exit the garage after a little difficulty and are on the road to Honfleur. We need gasoline. I drive for about 20 kilometers and we pull off at a highway gas station. There it is: Autogrill. That Italian staple that I have written about before. The beacon that shines brightly with its cleanish bathrooms, coffee bar and aisles of snacks. We stop, fill up, pee and get some snacks and waters. Back on the highway, they are aggressive and chaotic in their driving style.

We are on our way to Giverny. Monet’s home for 40 years and the back drop for his most famous painting: The Waterlilies. We exit the highway sooner than we thought but then spend the next twenty minutes traversing the narrow streets of little hamlets as we meander through the French countryside towards his home. The girls are already there having Ubered out to the Charles de Gaulle to collect their rental car. We have been swapping texts since our last metro station. We arrive in Giverny and find the public parking lot and make our towards the visitor center. The girls have walked to the top of the small town to visit the grave of the impressionist master. It is hot. Still. We connect with them on their way down the hill. Bathroom and food is in order. We satisfy the first requirement and then locate a spot in the shade to eat, carrying our food from the café out to it. Salad, quiche, sandwiches for the kids and a small bottle of rose that Robin and I share. We sit and eat. Claire feeds the wandering chickens lettuce from my salad. She earns enough trust to pick one up. We finish the meal. The girls want to see his house and of course the pond. I am done. Driving is stressful. It is hot. I want to leave the beauty of this place for the cool of the coast. Hopefully, it is cool. We don’t leave until we’ve had a stroll through a garden. They are cleverly arranged in single shaded colors. Purples, pinks, reds, etc. Different plants in varying shades of the same color. We stop for homemade ice cream after a short visit to one of the many gift shops for a quick purchase of a postcard and a pretty scarf for my lovely. Red petals on a white background in a very soft fabric. It suits her.

Back on the highway, we are cruising now with our destination plugged in to the vehicle’s GPS. We pass through one toll plaza and another. On the third, I am whistled at by a police officer and motioned to pull over. Fuck. Drink driving laws are very strict in France and my petite glass of rose at lunch has me palpitating. Robin offers a mint. I refuse. The last thing I need to do is call attention to myself further. I pull over and find a parking spot in the small lot as directed. A man on a motorcycle that had been behind me is now off his motor and walking towards me. I am out of the car, documents in hand. Passport, international driver’s license, vehicle registration and insurance papers. I am ready to submit myself to whatever my fate will be. This is my bed but I have no idea how I made it.

Turns out he was a plainclothes gendarme. The tipoff was his small armband with the “gendarme” inscription on it. He had been following me for a bit and when we got to the toll plaza he set the hook. He is irritated. I speak little French and he speaks less English. Perfect. I can play the confused tourist. The young man tells me to wait and marches off to find someone who speaks English. An older gentleman appears. He asks if I speak French. I tell him only a little. He says, “You can’t drive in the middle lane.” What? Everyone is driving there! “You can only pass here,” he continues. I am confused still. He asks me to wait, “I speak for you,” he says. I can sense that he is empathetic and the young one is fired up to write a ticket. He goes and speaks to him. They both return a few minutes later. I am admonished for staying in the middle lane the whole time and instructed once again to not stay there but to use it for passing only. Yes, sir! A day or so later I learn that I would have been fined and expected to pay on the spot. Better carry cash and no more rose at lunch.

That goddam stupid tax raises its head once again. This is the fee for being a tourist or a foreigner in a foreign land. It comes in many forms and this will not be the last of this tax we will pay. We are cruising along and before you know it we are heading over this beautiful bridge. One problem, we didn’t need to go over it. 5,40 euro each way brings our tax to just under $15.

We get ourselves back on track and find beautiful Honfleur. What a spot. Wow. Just wow. Water town, full of friendly people. Yep, this will do and it is a welcome break from the pace of London and Paris. Only thing is that it is still hot! No rest for the wicked. We arrive at our apartment and Louise greets us. She is sweet and friendly. I bust out the French and she accommodates. “Would you like to speak in French? She asks. “Oui!” I say but we still switch back and forth between English and French. She gives us the layout of the apartment and the town makes her goodbyes and heads off. The kids go about unpacking us and I move the car into the narrow street parking spot with 27 point turn. I get the giant Peugot within a couple of inches of the wall and leave just enough room for a small vehicle to pass.

Rani arrives after driving in circles. I had already been downtown for staples, wine, cheese, bread, fruit. We need a bigger shop and part of that is to stop in to the local butcher. I fumble over my French and Sebastian the butcher responds back with, “We can speak in English, if you like.” Yep, I’m tired and I want to get shit done. We settle on these amazing bone-in pork chop. We ask him to hold them until we return from the main grocery. We get that done and then get home to cook. Pork chops coated in fleur de sel trappeur with mushroom and haricots verts and a green salad with butter lettuce as the base.

Dinner completed, we head out for a walk on the town to see what it offers. We find the harbor in time for the sunset and locate a carousel. They kids go for a ride and they are in heaven. When we are done, it’s home to collapse. Long day, again.