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sionnaach · 1 month

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Trigger warnings for drug and alcohol use, a lot of swearing, and death (and dying. and dying. and dying)

Here it is. The Russian Doll AU

(or at least the first chapter)

Someone is knocking on the bathroom door.

Nico stares at his reflection in the mirror.

He’s twenty-five today. He’s managed twenty-five whole rotations around the sun, by some miracle, or divine intervention by whatever God(s) that enjoy watching the relative shitshow that is his life. According to Piper, the frontal lobe finishes developing at this age, but Nico doesn’t feel any different, any more mature than he had yesterday, or the day or week or year before that.

Same old Nico, for better or for worse.

The music is muffled behind the closed door, and he isn’t sure what song is playing, but it’s loud and heavy and he’s glad that there is at least something to his taste at this party that his friends insisted on throwing for him. In his (Piper’s) apartment.

The knocking continues.

He sighs and washes his hands before leaving.

A girl he doesn’t recognise glares at him when he opens the bathroom door, shouldering past him and slamming it shut behind her. Rolling his eyes, he makes his way to the kitchen, passing groups of people he doesn't know or can't be bothered remembering who are all wishing him a happy birthday, placing errant hands on his shoulder or clapping his back as he moves through the crowd. Someone hands him a shot, which he is marginally more enthusiastic about taking.

Piper grins at him from her position behind the kitchen counter, a lit joint in her hand that she begins to wave in the air like a particularly drunk conductor at his approach, her voice a lilting sing-song. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday-”

“Piper,” Nico interrupts her singing, plucking the joint from her hand and taking a drag. “How long have we known each other?”

“About ten years?”

“And in all that time, when have I ever asked you - or anyone, for that matter - for a birthday party?”

“Never, I know, but this is different Nico. you're officially a quarter of a century. That deserves celebrating!” She reaches for the joint, whining when Nico holds it out of her reach with a wry smile. “And it was Leo’s idea.”

Leo, who was currently nowhere to be found.

“And that makes up for a bunch of strangers invading my personal space.” He grumbles, taking another hit before Piper snatches the joint out of his hands again, taking a draw herself.

“Don't be a grump, you know plenty of people. Plus! Hazel and Frank should be here soon, and Percy and Annabeth said they'd swing by at some point. You can stop pretending that you have no friends.”

There’s a loud cheer, and a voice that belongs, undeniably, to one Leo Valdez can be heard even above the music.

“Chef Leo is back in business!”

Said chef is suddenly beside him, Jason in tow, both bearing two huge platters of Leo’s “famous” tofu tacos, which they place down on the counter once Piper clears up enough free space, pushing empty beer bottles and glasses to one side.

“You’re welcome, birthday boy.” Leo says with a grin, bumping their shoulders together. “I’ll give you first pick.”

“How generous of you, Valdez.” Nico grouses, but he grabs one of the tacos anyway - they are good, even if Leo is a bit too up his own ass about his cooking ability.

“Happy birthday, Nico.” Jason says with a smile, holding out a small present wrapped in the most obnoxious wrapping paper he has ever seen (another one of Leo’s fine ideas, he’s sure.) Nico licks the taco juice from his fingers and takes the gift from him.

“Thalia said she’s sorry she couldn’t come, but I’m sure you already knew that.”

“Someone needs to open tomorrow,” Nico responds with a shrug. “We went out for a drink last week, so she already got her well wishes in.” She had also sent him a text this morning, telling him he better still be hungover when he’s back at work the day after next or she would know that he hadn’t celebrated hard enough and that she ‘hadn’t raised a quitter’.

Tattoo artists were a different breed. He should know, being one.

He waves the box, gentle to not damage the contents. “I’m gonna put this in my room, I’ll be right back.”

Upon leaving his bedroom, Nico comes face to face with the last person he wanted to see tonight.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He’s still in his scrubs, evidently having arrived straight from the fucking hospital. With anyone else that fact might have been sweet, but for some reason it just serves to irritate Nico further.

Maybe it’s just Octavian being here in the first place that is pissing him off.

“Nico!” Octavian cries. (Seriously, who the fuck calls their kid Octavian? That should have been the first warning sign. But Nico was notorious for seeing red flags and running straight on by.) He flashes him that too-perfect smile. Nico glowers in response.

“Why are you here?” He snaps, not even trying to hide his annoyance.

Octavian visibly deflates at Nico’s less than warm welcome, voice faltering. “Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it? This is your party?”

“I sure as hell didn’t invite you.”

Another knife in the wound, and Nico feels a small degree of satisfaction as Octavian’s face falls into a frown.

“Can I please just explain-” He tries again, but Nico cuts him off.

“I’m not being your fucking rebound or side-piece or whatever the fuck that whole situation was again.”

“Nico-” Octavian reaches out a hand to touch him, to grab his arm or shoulder, but Nico flinches back violently, all but baring his teeth.

“Fuck off.” he snarls, shouldering by roughly, hitting against his arm and leaving Octavian standing in the hallway.

He needs a break.

Or another joint. Or a lot of alcohol. All of the above.

Piper is still in the kitchen, talking to Jason. She catches the look in his eye, and immediately holds out the joint again. Nico accepts, holding it between his teeth while he also pours himself a glass of the nearest booze - an unlabeled bottle, his favourite.

He takes a hit, hands the joint back to Piper, and downs the glass in fluid succession. The alcohol is terrible, and it burns his throat, but the weed is at least starting to ebb some of his general frustration at the night.

“Who invited Octavian.”

His friends stare at him.

“No one?”

Jason sighs, pushing up his glasses to rub the space between his eyes. “I’ll get him to leave.” He squeezes Nico’s shoulder reassuringly, before heading back the way Nico came to kick out his… Ex whatever.

“I didn’t invite him.” Piper reassures him once Jason is gone, the most serious she has been all night. “I know Leo didn’t either. I’m sorry, I don’t know how he even figured out-”

Nico sighs, and pours himself another drink. After a pause, he pours one for Piper, too. “It’s fine,” he holds out the glass, and they clink them together before swallowing. “He knew it was my birthday anyway, probably just showed up. Like a fuckin’ stalker.”

“You really need to work on your taste in men.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I'm going to the shop.” Nico tells Piper once they’d worked their way through three quarters of the mystery alcohol.

“Oh! could you grab me a box of Marlboros, please-and-thank-you.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He slips through the crowd and makes his way to the front door and grabs his leather jacket from the coat rack, pulling it on. Woolen collar aside, it's probably not warm enough to deal with the January cold, but fuck it; he has an aesthetic to uphold. Nico pats his jacket pockets, making sure he has his keys and wallet before heading out the door of the apartment.

Luckily for Nico, as a gust of frigid air hits him upon stepping onto the street and has him questioning if he really needs the booze and smokes, the nearest corner shop is only a short walk from their apartment. Walking quickly, he’s there in five minutes. The chiming of the doorbell announces his arrival, and the cashier looks up from her position at the till.

It's Lou Ellen working tonight, one of the few workers who’s name he actually remembers.

“Hey Nico,” she gives him a lazy salute in greeting, and goes back to… writing? He thinks she’s writing something. It’s hard to tell from where he’s standing.

“How's it going?” He asks, coming up to the counter, where he can see that she’s doing what appears, to his non-college educated mind, to be a college paper. He wouldn’t have been able to make sense of the formulas written on the paper if they were right side up, never mind trying to decipher them from this angle.

She shrugs, still focused on her coursework. “Same shit, different day.” She sets her pen down, returning her attention to Nico. “What you after?”

“Pack of Marlboro please, and… A bottle of Smirnoff.”

“Gotcha.” She turns to the racking behind her, plucking out a pack of cigarettes, and a bottle of vodka from a shelf that is just within her reach.

“Got your ID? Tattoos don't count.” A slight smile is pulling at her lips as she places the bottle and cigarette pack on the counter before them. The first time they had met, Nico had forgotten his ID in the apartment and had tried to use the full sleeve(!!) of patchwork tattoos that take up his left arm to convince her that he was over twenty-one, Actually, Thank You Very Much.

She hadn’t relented, and he had to make an extra twenty minute detour to retrieve said ID. Anything for alcohol.

“Yeah yeah,” he mutters, pulling his wallet from his jacket pocket and brandishing his currently useless driver's license before her. Lou Ellen, knowing full well he’s of legal age, gives it a cursory glance, enough for the cameras to believe that she was adhering to the law, before waving him off. She flashes him a grin.

“Happy birthday, by the way.”

“Thanks.” he shrugs one shoulder, pulling out his debit card to pay.

There's a yelp, a crash and the sound of shattering glass from the other side of the shop, startling them both. “What the fuck-” he starts, as Lou Ellen groans.

“Jesus, Will-” She rounds the counter as another figure - Nico hadn't even realized there was anyone else in the shop - appears at the top of the aisle, hands raised sheepishly. He’s about their age and tall, bundled in a warm dark navy parka. Blonde curls are poking out from underneath the beanie on his head.

More importantly, he’s also hammered.

“Sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll clean it up.” Drunk Guy starts, but is cut off by a raised hand, as Lou Ellen herds him, bodily, both hands on his arms and pushing, towards the back room. That's definitely against company policy, not that Nico cares.

“Like hell you will.” She says gruffly. Glancing back over her shoulder at Nico, she throws him a withering look and inclines her head at the walking disaster before her. “Sorry, I gotta-” Nico takes the hint. All things considered, at least he’s not dealing with anything like that tonight.

“Don't worry about it. Good luck.”

“Cheers. Hope you enjoy the rest of your birthday!”

He pockets the cigarettes and grabs the bagged vodka, and with a wave in Lou Ellen’s general direction, he’s back out onto the freezing New York streets.

Nico draws his jacket tighter around himself, huddling into the fabric the best he can. Definitely not warm enough.

He pulls the box of cigarettes back out and fishes the lighter he keeps in his jacket pocket. If Piper is going to have him buying her smokes, the least she can do is share, he reasons. It takes him a minute to light the cigarette, hands going numb in the cold. He takes a drag, exhaling a puff of smoke into the air.

Someone is sitting on the street across the road. A teenager, eighteen, maybe, and he’s strumming an idle tune on the guitar in his lap. The song, and the teenager, with his mop of curly brown hair ducked so Nico can’t quite see his face, seem familiar.

The kid looks up and Nico meets his eyes. Even from this distance, he can tell they're a little too blue - but that’s definitely an after-effect of the weed. They stare at each other, and Nico can’t shake the feeling that he should know who he is.

He should probably get back to the party.

Usually the cold helps to sober him up, but Nico feels drunker now than when he left the apartment. Maybe the alcohol was reacting badly to the weed. He needs to get back to apartment and eat about five of Leo’s tacos to sober up a little.

In his rush to get home, he forgets to look both ways when he steps out onto the road.

There is the screech of tyres and the blaring of a car horn and suddenly he’s airborne. Nico’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. A sickening crunch as he hits tarmac, something is wet and sticky, all around him, and dark eyes are staring out at the street but not quite seeing -

Someone is knocking on the bathroom door.

Nico is staring at his reflection in the mirror.

#solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace #piper mclean #jason grace #leo valdez #russian doll au #pjo #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #dw about Octavian I just thought it would be funny in the long run (iykyk)#lou ellen blackstone #prayers the hyperfixation lasts long enough to finish this

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tomtenadia · 1 year

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Rowan week - Day 3 - Rowan’s birthday

Here I am with a quick one shot. I hope you’ll like it. Not my greatest work, but I wanted to celebrate the birthday of our Buzzard. I hope you will enjoy it.

1.4k words

CW: innuendos, very minimal smut

@rowaelinscourt

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HAPPY BIRD-DAY

Rowan was not bothered by birthdays. For him it was a day like any other. Maybe he really was an old grump but really could not grasp all the need to create a big hoopla about getting older.

His wife and kids had other ideas. He was turning forty and Aelin had told him that it was a big birthday and she was going to have a big celebration with their friends. She had told him to sit down and let her do the magic. She and Maya, their fifteen years old daughter, had been having secret meeting about the shindig they had been working on.

Aelin had woken him up in a very special way and that part of his birthday he had loved very much. To be honest he’d have more than loved to spend his day in bed with his wife, now, that was a celebration he could agree upon.

All morning they had come up with tasks to keep him busy and now he was relegated to the driveway to shovel the snow. It was January and during the night the sky had dumped a copious amount of snow, covering the path and the cars too. Aelin had told him that he could use his big muscles to clear the area in front of the house to facilitate the arrival of their friends.

It was a good hour later when in the distance he spotted Lorcan’s towering figure, accompanied by Elide and their two kids. Allison was the same age as his eldest, same for Aidan, Lysandra and Aedion’s first child. All the kids of the three couples were in the same age range and all good friends.

“The wife relegated you to hard labour on your birthday? Been naughty?”

Rowan lifted a middle finger to his friend and Elide roared that there were kids about and they had to behave.

“Go inside, I am almost done.”

By the time he was done, most of the guest had arrived and Aelin popped outside on the porch. He walked up to her “Am I allowed in? My arse is freezing.”

Aelin grinned and moved closer and kissed him languidly, while her hands landed on his backside “we need to preserve that magnificent arse of yours…” another kiss “you can come back in my love.”

Once inside he saw the house decorated with green and silver balloons and decorations and in the living room a huge banner hang from side to side reading Happy birthday, Buzzard.

As he got in his five year old son Thomas and ten years old daughter Freyja ran to him to hug him at his knees “Happy birthday, dada.”

He kneeled down and kissed their heads “Thank you, kids.”

Aelin took his hand and pulled him on the armchair and pushed him down and placed a silly crown on his head “sit down, my king.”

Rowan looked up and a smirk spread on his face “Later,” she whispered in his ear, guessing what his expression meant.

One by one all their friends made their way to him to congratulate him on his big day. Lorcan and Gavriel joked that finally there was another old man in the club.

Before all hell broke loose, Aelin announced that food was ready and in that instant Lysandra and Maya helped her carry the food out “dad, I promise we have all savoury stuff, there is a cake but it’s for us regular human beings.”

He nodded at his daughter as a thank you and in that instant Thomas walked to him and claimed his attention, something that Rowan did not deny him. He picked up the boy and settled him on his lap “Dada, I made you a present.” The boy revealed a sheet of paper from behind his back. Rowan took it and realised it was a drawing of him with what looked like a bird of some sort. At the bottom it read happy bird-day in a very shaky calligraphy. Rowan laughed hard and kissed his son “Tom, this is beautiful.”

“I did it all by me. Mama did not help.”

“I love it,” the boy grinned showing off his missing teeth.

Freyja followed next and presented him a green mug with dad written on that she had made in class “Thanks darling, I will take this to work and show off how good you are.”

Freyja grinned and went back playing with Aidan.

When all the presents were exchanged, Maya stepped up and as he looked at his wife, he saw her trying to stifle a laugh. Which meant she was involved, and all of a sudden he was afraid.

“Happy birthday, dad.” Maya almost burst out laughing in his face.

He grabbed the present and started opening it. A book, nothing wrong with it. Except that when he read the title he froze: Kamasutra for the elderly. Maya and Aelin burst out laughing.

“Show us! Show us!” The shout had come from Fenrys.

“Come on, Buzzard. Don’t be shy,” had added Aelin who had finally stopped laughing.

His brows turned in a frown and reluctantly he lifted the incriminated book.

All the adults in the room exploded in crazy laughs, apart from Fenrys who stood with a smug smile. Rowan did not miss that “Did you help her buying… this?”

The blonde man grinned “I asked your wife and she said it would be fun to ruffle your feathers. Maya wanted to give you a funny present.”

“Yes, dad, I know what it is about.” Added quickly Maya at her father’s dark frown.

Aelin walked to him and brushed his head “It’s a useful gift…”

“Hey, maybe Lorcan wants to borrow it…”

The dark haired man whipped his head at Fenrys and glared at him, while Elide patted his arm and giggled “well, we might find some good ideas.”

Lorcan sighed and promised to strangle Fenrys at a later date.

While the adults were laughing and talking, no one noticed Freyja, Marion, Isobel and Thomas who had grabbed the book and were sitting on the carpet flipping through the pages. The four wee ones were giggling, until a shout from Aidan shushed everyone. Lysandra bolted and grabbed the book from Thomas’ hands.

“Funny pictures,” said Isobel who was four. Aedion grabbed his daughter in his arms “We’ll read a better book at home.”

“What’s the kamasutra?”

They had all forgotten that at ten Freyja could read, same for Marion.

“It’s a sport for people as old as your dad.” Replied Fenrys deadpanned.

Maya looked at her dad and mouthed an I am sorry but he nodded and she relaxed.

“Come on, old man, we better have that cake and put some sustenance in you if you want to be good at sports.” the joke had come from Fenrys, and in that instant his twin slapped the back of his neck “you should really be kept on a leash.”

Fenrys was about to reply but Aelin shouted at him to stop “Fen, do not say what you are about to say. There are kids and we have done enough damage.”

Later on that night, once the little ones were in bed and Maya in her room Aelin had ran upstairs and got changed very quickly changed in a black set of lingerie that she had bought with Lysandra. It was scandalous and was hoping to have her own personal celebration with her husband.

She lay in bed in a very sensual position, ready for him.

The door opened and finally saw Rowan in his shorts and at his expression of pure lust she felt heat rise in her.

“Ready for bed old man?”

He walked slowly and once on the bed crawled to his wife “I will show you who is an old man…”

His voice was almost a growl and Aelin pulled him to her “did you remember to stretch? I have a heavy session planned for us…” Rowan kissed her deeply and a loud moan left Aelin “are you sure you know what to do?” She grabbed the book abandoned on the nightstand but his hand took it at the same time and threw it on the floor. Then in a powerful move lifted Aelin in a seated position on his lap…

Aelin removed the bra part of her lingerie set and enjoyed the lust spreading on his features “Happy birthday, my love…”

#rowan week #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #aelin x rowan #aelinandrowan #aelin galathynius #rowan x aelin

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reploidbuddy · 7 months

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Having issues with the one-shot so I’ll just be gradually posting Silver’s family because I’m too far into drawing them to not color and post.

So this is Venice the elder brother, he’s a bit more than a year older than Silver. He tends to be a bit more of a grump, which makes their little sister Gold love to mess around with him using her telepathy.

He’s a hedgehog, but some mink traits (he gets them from his grandpa) sneaked into him like a longer tail, softer quills, and bushier chest fur. It makes a lot of people mistake him for a mink and it annoys him to no end.

His psychokinesis powers are some kind of temporary object creation. Whatever he needs gets formed in red (like Silver’s powers are cyan) and stays for various amounts of times depending on how much he focused on solidly forming it. It can go from precise, borderline heavy, and lasting a few minutes to a blurry-around-the-edges second-long spur.

He’s also a bit of a history nerd and has history books hidden in a few secret compartments in his and Silver’s room. They go from easy to find for the more recent and can-be-doubted books (due to the slipping-into-dystopia setting these characters are in) to "I've been looking for his hiding place for five years and never found it" for the extremely old books that he’s certain are more accurate since some date from before the slip even started. His grandpa gave those to him, some even belonged to his great-grandmother! No one can touch those but him. He steals the recent history books from school (they’re not supposed to get them out of the class let alone the school) more out of curiosity of comparison (what was changed, what remains the same to the old books etc). That and spite.

His grandpa is extra proud of the spite part.

#i don't know if I was too tired yesterday after the session or too discouraged abt a mix of things that more or less linked to writing-#-but I seem to have lost interest on the one-shot overnight while I was passionate about it like 2 days ago I’m not sure what happened #maybe I just like the family I gave Silver for the characters themselves or something #Rep writes #rep draws #Silver’s family AU #Venice the hedgehog #more like minky hedgehog hehehe

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fouroutoffivestars · 1 year

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65 is the only movie honest enough to tell you ahead of time how many minutes you’ll wish to have back once the credits roll. The only issue for me was that sixty-five is a sadly low estimate.

I will warn you right now that this review leaves nothing to the imagination, so if you want to watch this movie, scroll on.

This movie stars Adam Driver of Star Wars notoriety as a star-faring pilot, Mills, at the helm of a transport vessel. Victim of a rogue asteroid belt, the vessel crash lands on an alien world, leaving only Driver and one other traveller alive. The planet in question; is Earth—65 million years in our past.

Coming from the creators of A Quiet Place, I was expecting big things. Before watching A Quiet Place, I, like many other movie-goers, watched the trailer and got very excited. Although A Quiet Place had a beautifully crafted script, a great cast, and a chilling enemy, the trailer was misleading. As with so many trailers these days, it was crammed with all the best bits to draw in audiences. As I mentioned, A Quiet Place still had many strong points to drive its success; sadly, 65 falls short on all fronts.

The main emotional draw to the story surrounds the loss of family: MIlls’ daughter and Koas’ parents, played by Ariana Greenblatt. The symmetry could have worked, but I felt the two storylines were too weak and disjointed to have any real impact.

I believe this was mainly because the two main characters didn’t speak the same language, which made any true bond near impossible. Why this was the basis for the characters’ interactions, I don’t know, but considering the film as a whole, it seemed fitting to include such a ludicrous barrier.

Another point that confused me somewhat was Koa’s fluctuating confidence. One moment Koa was happy to wander unaccompanied, although she had been frightened, attacked and almost eaten, and then she was so scared that she even shied away from Mills when he saved her life. Mills had fewer dimensions to his character and remained a stoic grump for most of the movie.

My last couple of points relate to those annoying little things you notice and can’t get out of your mind. First, we have the miraculous reappearing backpacks. Now, I will caveat this next piece by admitting I could be wrong. I would need to watch the scenes back to be sure, but at the time of watching, their futuristic sachels appeared to have come straight out of Diagon Alley.

On approximately three different occasions Mills and Koa were in situations where their backpacks were well and truly left behind but suspiciously reappeared in the next scene. This bizarre occurrence included a scene of the two diving through a hole into a cavern below, a la Luke, Leia, Chewy and Han, and leaving all their possessions behind, only to miraculously have everything back a moment later.

It’s constant inconsistent plot twists like this that left me confused. The obvious technological advantages Mills had at his disposal left me in no doubt of their survival throughout. I will admit that the final blow to secure their safety came thanks to a 65-million-year-old horn (technically only a few years old) coated in poison, which raises another issue.

Why make a big thing of Koa coating it in the poisonous berries Mills has warned her about? Sure, Koa used the horn in the end, but which injury do you think the dinosaur felt most? The poison or the three-foot-long spike in his eye. Also, about five seconds after being stabbed, he was char-broiled to death. The poison never had a chance to work.

Overall I feel cheated. Movie makers are often outspoken about how the flood of superhero movies is ruining cinema. Well, I, for one, will take a heavily criticised but enjoyable Ant-Man over dross like 65, any day of the week.

1 out of 5 stars.

#65 #adam driver #ariana greenblatt #dinosaurs #movie review #review #Movie Reviews

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rookie-critic · 1 year

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A Man Called Otto (2022, dir. Marc Forster) - review by Rookie-Critic

TW: suicide

A Man Called Otto had its moments, but tended to be a little too sickly sweet for its own good (when it wasn't being way darker than advertised). I'll admit that I was on the side saying that I wasn't sure I could believe Tom Hanks as a grumpy old man, but for all of the film's faults, the believability of Hanks' Otto Anderson is not one of them. As much as we as an internet collective have corralled Hanks into the role of "America's Dad," and as much as Hollywood has begun to cast Hanks for roles that genuinely don't suit him (excuse me while I glare at Baz Luhrmann), we tend to forget that Hanks is a phenomenal actor that got as famous as he is now for being consistently great, not just in his more typecast-aligning roles like Big and Sleepless in Seattle, but also for movies like Road to Perdition and Philadelphia. Also, let's be honest, we all love him as Woody in Toy Story, and he's basically playing a giant buzzkill (pun absolutely intended) for a majority of the first film in that franchise. I actually found most of the film's cast to be quite endearing, especially Mariana Treviño, who practically steals the film from Hanks, which in and of itself is an impressive feat. As I've said in previous reviews, I love when we get to see fairly unknown actors play big roles in movies alongside the legacy names. The big name draws in the crowd and then they get to see this new (or new to the average moviegoer, anyway) face thrive. I hope to see Treviño in bigger and better things in the future because she was a delight in this.

The biggest detriment to the film is that it really tends to get caught up in itself a lot. I'm actually quite a sucker for sentiment in a film and get swept up very easily in a movie's emotional manipulation if I'm even remotely enjoying it, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I did shed some tears while watching A Man Called Otto, but there were moments that, had they been dialed back about 75%, would have been so much more effective. There are multiple montages set to the most over-the-top, Josh Groban-esque music (which I'm seeing now was mostly written by Hanks' wife, singer and fellow actor Rita Wilson) that absolutely kill the emotional momentum of the film. It is so unbelievably heavy-handed and saccharine that I think I was audibly groaning by the third time it happened. I really can't stress how hilariously atrocious these sequences are. There's also quite a few scenes of these incredibly out of touch depictions of the younger generation that seem to be plaguing a decent handful of films in the recent months, including one sequence involving a train station that is laughably obtuse, and the way the young people in that scene behave ends up being beneficial to Otto later in the film anyway, so I'm not really sure what the commentary is supposed to be, and I don't think the film does either. I find it odd that these sequences are even in the movie for how amazingly progressive a lot of the film seems to be.

Lastly, I'd like to talk about something I mentioned at the beginning of this review about the film being way darker than advertised. I would also like to take this moment to issue a trigger warning (TW: suicide) for those that might have PTSD or anxiety about this topic. This film presents itself in its advertising as a wholesome family drama where a young, friendly family melts the heart of the neighborhood grump. What this movie is really about is a suicidal man learning to find his reason for living again. I won't divulge the details of why for people who don't want those plot spoilers, but I feel it is heavily important to know going into this film that suicide is a heavily felt presence throughout the entirety of the film, and I think I counted five suicide attempts that are shown on screen (it could be six, but I remember at least five). I'm not against the depiction of suicide or suicidal thoughts in film, I think it's an incredibly important topic to discuss openly and without shame or judgment, but I also think that it is paramount for a piece of media to clearly state when it is going to depict something as potentially traumatizing (or re-traumatizing) as that on screen. When the first attempt happens, the film is barely 15 minutes into its runtime, and I was so jarred by it that I almost thought I had somehow walked into the wrong theater, that this had to be some other grumpy Tom Hanks movie and not the fun-loving, cheery looking one whose trailer got "The End of the Line" by The Traveling Wilburys stuck in my head for weeks. I don't know if I can hold a fault of the trailer against the film itself, but I was quite angry with the film's marketing for not giving some kind of indication of what the film and its tone actually were.

I'm having a hard time thinking of what score to give A Man Called Otto, because for all of the things that were objectively bad about the film, I did find myself getting emotional on more than one occasion. The film's sentimentality gets in its own way a lot, but when it's able to find a good balance between heart and drama it really sings, so I'd say there's a little more to like about it on the whole.

Score: 6/10.

Currently only in theaters.

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givemethatgold · 3 years

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Fix’er Upper Pt. 4

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x Reader Warnings: Injury, swearing, mentions of ptsd and drug use Length: 2k Notes: Hello my Freaky Darlings! I was watching The Martian while writing this and didn’t edit so bear with me and forgive errors!

Part One, Two, Three

Damn your stubborn pride. Damn it, and your swollen wrist, all to hell. Now that you were back at home, nursing your previously ignored injury, it was easy to forget why you had felt the need to work through the pain. Prime harvesting season was ending and all the old farmers in town were predicting an early frost. Knowing how this would destroy any unpicked apples, you had worked hard all day.

Frankie had grumbled at you once, an hour into the workday when he saw you emptying your half-full basket into one of the tractor-pulled bins. You didn't feel like explaining your stupid injury, or risk drawing his memory to when you eye-fucked him, so you just grumbled back an assurance that your total count would be the same.

He was slightly more attentive than usual, and you were worried he had read more into your glances than you had meant. Because, you still hated the guy, right? His... what was it again? Arrogance? Yes! That was it.

Not wanting to encourage any more misconceptions, and still trying to hide your damn swollen wrist, you worked through your breaks and barely stopped for lunch.

Frankie had finally put his foot down when Jacquie had arrived with stew and biscuits for dinner, forcing you off the ladder and stashing it away to make sure you didn’t get the idea to head up again that day.

You had successfully hidden your swollen wrist from him but knew that Jacquie had a much keener eye. So while you were remiss to leave the company of your friend you begged off dinner, citing exhaustion, and went home.

Now though, with a meal that paled in comparison to Jacquie’s cooking, and your bound wrist on ice, you wished you had stayed.

That is until you remember the moment when you had stared at your boss's lips for an inappropriately long time. With a groan, you decided to leave the dishes for tomorrow, just wanting to bury your head under your blankets and try to bury your embarrassment as well.

The sound of rain pelting against the window woke you a few short hours later. You would have just gone back to sleep but the memory of leaving a few windows open forced you out of bed. By the time you made it downstairs, the gentle rain had turned to a downpour of sleet and you could feel the cold air blowing through the house.

Your mind immediately went to the orchard. If this storm got any worse, a sizeable section of un-picked trees would be rendered worthless. Grabbing your boots and discarded coat off the floor, you rushed to your truck with freezing rain stinging your face. It wasn't until you were near the end of the driveway that you realized you hadn't closed any of the windows.

That wasn't what caused you to slam on the brakes, though. Frankie's truck had just turned down your driveway, fishtailing around the bend as he barely slowed down in his hurry. Seeing you at the last minute, he braked hard but the slush already accumulating on the ground caused him to skid. The impact wasn't hard but your smaller truck wouldn't be road-worthy any longer.

Wrenching your doors open and coming around the assess the damage Frankie was swearing while you were trying to decide whether to laugh or cry.

"What the hell are you doing?" Frankie called to you from across your crumpled hood.

"Me? ME?!" You countered, voice becoming shrill from panic and stress. "What the hell are YOU doing?!"

"Coming you help you and save your damn house from this storm!" He yelled back, giving a little jump and waving his arms out of frustration. It would have been comical under different circumstances. "This is gonna flood your fuckin' house!"

"Your orchard!" You were hollering now "This is going to ruin the rest of the apples!"

Jerking his head back Frankie looked at you with confusion, "What the hell are you worried about them for?"

His query forced you to stop and wonder that for yourself.

"I-" you stuttered, feeling a little silly "I don't know? Are you really going to argue with me though?! We've wasted enough time..."

Heaving a sigh, Frankie jerked his head towards his truck and growled, "Get in."

In a desperate bid to save as much of the fruit as possible, you and Frankie laid tarps down under as many trees as you could. Shaking the branches caused the ripened fruit to fall and you just prayed the rest would survive the sudden storm which had now turned to snow.

Working together you dragged each tarp towards the tractor and took turns driving the filled bins into the barn. It wasn’t a heated cab but still a nice respite from the blizzard.

By five a.m. you had done as much as possible and the adrenaline that had once been surging through the both of you had long faded. The snow had now slowed to a light drizzle but the ground was a slippery, muddy mess, as so were the both of you. Once Frankie noticed the shivers that wracked your body he ushered you into the barn and up the side stairs into his loft.

“It’s not much but it’s enough.” was his way of welcoming you into the space. It was cozy but lacking in luxuries or personal touches.

While Frankie got busy making tea and warming soup in the kitchen you explored the loft. It was one large room broken into three basic areas: his bed in one corner with a small bathroom just off the side, a kitchenette along the opposite wall, and a couch flanked by rocking chairs faced a fireplace at the end. Making your way over to the fireplace you intended on getting a fire going but were distracted by the photos decorating the mantel.

“You served?” Your voice came out sounding loud and strained, not at all the casual way you had intended. Frankie had been gruff with you but never unkind, however, seeing photos of him in uniform instantly raised your hackles. It was an automatic response from being reminded of your husband and you hated it.

Shaking the thought of Brad from your mind, you realized Frankie hadn’t answered and was just standing next to you, staring at the photos with a blank look on his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried” you spoke softly, not wanting to spook him from his reverie.

You had seen that far-off look on your husband’s face when he had been home between tours. It had always been best to stay quiet and out of sight when he had gotten like that.

Frankie took a sudden step in your direction. That movement, mixed with the current memories swirling in the forefront of your brain, caused you to reflexively throw your arms up to cover your face. Hot tea spilled out of the mug Frankie had been passing to you and immediately burned the skin on your hands and arm.

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, immediately, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Tears were spilling down your cheeks and you had instantly curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

“Shhhhhh, no, nononono, shhhhhh” Frankie was frantically trying to reassure you while simultaneously trying to get close enough to assess how bad the damage to your skin was. He seemed to know that you were feeling unsafe so he made himself small and lowered himself to the floor. “That was completely my fault, right? Can I see?”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath you calmed yourself enough to see the warmth and worry in his eyes. Your heart immediately constricted for an entirely new reason when you noticed his posturing, how he had made himself smaller than you and had his hands out wide where you could see them, waiting for you to show him the severity of the burns.

This man had dealt with PTSD before.

Nodding, you reached out both hands for Frankie to take and tried to swallow the embarrassment you felt from your little breakdown. That emotion was quickly forgotten, however, when Frankie finally got a look at you and noticed, for the first time, just how swollen your wrist was.

“What happened here?” he asked, sternly “Were you working all day like this?”

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, trying to pull your hands out of his firm but gentle grip, “just a little mishap from this morning. Don’t worry, though, I was able to work just fine.”

He let out of huff of frustration. “You think I’m worried about how many apples you picked? Jesus Christ, you must think I’m the biggest asshole around.”

“No,” you said quietly, still trying to calm down but also wanting to relieve the tension, “that title belonged to my husband. You,” you continued, ignoring the way his head snapped up to your face then back down to check your bare ring finger, “are just the biggest grump around and it’s intimidating.”

Frankie was silent again and watched his jaw tic as he digested this new information. He was still staring at your hands, cradled in his. The bright red hue of your skin must have jarred him from his thoughts because he quickly but carefully stood up, pulling you up with him, and ushered you towards the kitchen. As you sat on the counter with cold tap water flowing over your burning skin, Frankie flitted about searching for salves and gauze to protect the skin once it had been sufficiently cooled. You tried to reassure him that you would be fine but he wasn't hearing it.

He was talking now, hadn't stopped rambling, but of nothing consequential. You had a feeling there were a lot of secrets stored in his heart but knew you weren't in a position to be trusted with them. You found yourself wishing that you were. You hadn't realized you were nodding off, the strain of the past 24 hours finally catching up on you, until Frankie had called your name for the fourth time. He was, respectfully, keeping his distance not wanting to startle you again, but hovering close enough by to catch you if you slumped over in your doze.

"Come on," he murmured sleepily, "let me take you home. We're not getting any more work done here for a while so take a few days to rest."

"Oh Christ," you guffawed in a very unladylike manner, "how did I forget?"

"It looks worse in the light of day." Frankie chimed in, ruefully.

The two of you sat in the idling truck staring at the crumpled hood of your poor truck, which was inconveniently blocking your driveway.

"I'll call for a tow."

While he was on the phone he climbed out of the cab, assessing the damage and trying to figure out how much this was going to cost him. A few minutes later he made his way back into the warmth of his truck, "He won't be here till tomor-". Frankie let the sentence trail off once he noticed you'd fallen asleep, bundled up in the fleece jacket he had lent you. Sitting back in his seat, watching the sunrise dance across your face, Frank took a moment to think about everything that had transpired in such a short amount of time.

Closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the seat, he figured he'd let you sleep for a few more minutes before making you wake and have to walk the rest of the way to your house.

"As I live and breath..."

Jacquie's jubilant voice woke the both of you with a start. It was evening and Frankie's truck had been idling in your driveway for nearly 8 hours with the two of you passed out cold in the cab. At some point, you had shifted and were resting against Frankie's chest, his body turned toward yours and his arms wrapped tightly around you.

"Mark!" She continued to yell, "You owe me fifty bucks!"

PART FIVE

#Frankie Morales x Reader #Frankie Catfish Morales x you #triple frontier fanfiction #Frankie morales x you #catfish x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #catfish x you

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gumnut-logic · 2 years

Photo

2035

Scott was six when he met Chuckles.

Of course, he wasn’t named Chuckles at that point. In fact, he didn’t have a name at all when Scott tore the Christmas paper off his face.

He was one present among several and him and his blue eyes were put aside on the small pile of presents in eager anticipation of what the next one might be.

That year, the remote-controlled airplane took pride of place as the most exciting Christmas present of all and the brown bear sat discarded alongside the sweater, two pairs of socks and the puzzle while Scott badgered his father to take him outside to play with his new aircraft despite the freezing temperatures and the howling wind.

Perhaps fortunately for future events, that wind kept it up for another two days before the sun managed to peek out from behind a winter cloud and warm the Kansas farm just enough to not freeze off extremities. So, Scott found himself stuck inside on Christmas Day and the day following.

The puzzle lasted five minutes. The packet said for ages 7-12, but Scott had an analytical mind and the jet fighter formed on the table rather quickly. That done, he was left with either clothes or the bear.

Unfortunately, by this time, his youngest brother, a toddler who touched and explored EVERYTHING, had found it. Johnny had taken a liking to the bear’s goggles and had drooled all over them. The fur surrounding the black plastic was actually soggy and Scott complained loudly to his mother.

“Honey, you shouldn’t have left it within his reach. You know he will grab anything he can. He is too young to understand, but you aren’t, so it is your responsibility. You know Johnny didn’t mean anything by it.”

Scott stomped back into the living room grumped about that for a full five minutes or so, but Mom was right. He knew Johnny was only little.

As if to drive home the point, the little red-haired two-year-old trotted past and beelined for the Christmas tree, grabbed one of the pretty sparkly baubles and attempted to wrench it off its branch.

The whole tree came with it.

“Johnny, no!”

Scott made it there just in time to catch the top of the tree as it fell. Tinsel, baubles and candy canes rained around him. He managed to save his little brother, who landed on his bottom and started crying, but his own head got a good tap by one of the ornaments and it hurt.

After that there was a ruckus as his mother and his father came running in from the kitchen and rescued the both of them.

His Dad righted the tree, while his mom scooped up his wailing brother. Dad knelt down, checked Scott over and gave him a reassuring hug. After all, it wasn’t every day he had a tree land on his head.

But both of his parents thanked him for saving little Johnny and honestly it felt good to help.

After the fuss had died down and his mother had been distracted by Virgil who, according to the yelling down the hallway, had been drawing on a wall, Scott sat down with Johnny and had a talk about who owned the bear.

It was Scott’s.

But Johnny had hugging rights as long as he didn’t drool on it.

His little brother, who was always quite serious, except when he was being mischievous, gazed up at him, total innocence in his turquoise eyes and Scott’s heart did a little squishy thing and melted.

Scott held up the Christmas bear.

It was a pilot bear. The goggles Johnny found so fascinating sat on top of his head, as black as his flight jacket. His fur was the same colour as Scott’s hair and he sported both a blue scarf and blue eyes.

It was smiling at him rather sure of itself.

This bear flew planes. Scott wanted to fly a plane. Daddy flew planes some times.

There was a silver star on the bear’s jacket.

“Look, Johnny, a star.” He pointed to the shape.

Johnny grabbed at the bear. “Star!”

Scott let him have it with something between a grin and a sigh. His little brother hugged the bear and toddled off with it.

Okay, so perhaps he could share him a little.

-o-o-o-

2036

Christmas in the Tracy household was a big family affair. The house itself was a big one. Big enough to house extended family and the bustle and noise that involved.

Scott loved it. Loved everyone being together, the hugs, the jokes, the fact that Uncle Lee always called him ‘Little Jeff’ and told the best stories about planes and rockets. Aunt Val always brought the best Christmas cookies with various aircraft drawn on them with icing. Grandma Taylor had different coloured hair every year and this year was bright blue and included glitter. Grandpa Taylor invented toys for a living so he was always welcome. Though Virgil tended to hoard his attention and Scott wasn’t really sure why because Virgil pulled apart everything Grandpa Taylor gave him anyway.

But the best part of Christmas this year was that Daddy was home.

Daddy spent a lot of time away. Scott understood why, but that didn’t stop him from missing him. Dad had stories much like Uncle Lee and often they starred in each other’s tales, but there was something about his father that Scott just looked up to even more.

It didn’t hurt that Uncle Lee made a point of placing Scott’s father in the spotlight in all his stories.

Dad was an amazing person. A hero.

Dad was also very tall and strong and always had the answers Scott needed. While Mom looked after him and his two little brothers and he loved her very much, Dad was…Dad.

And Scott wanted more than anything to grow up and be just like him.

It certainly didn’t hurt that his father had the same colour hair and everyone said Scott looked a lot like him. Scott bore those comments proudly and made a point of doing his best to emulate what his father might do in any situation.

Scott was going to grow up, join the Air Force and do his father proud.

A clatter in the hallway and Virgil barrelled into the room. Uncle Lee, who had been retelling the Mars landing, stopped mid-word and frowned.

His biggest little brother’s eyes widened as he skidded to a halt and straightened himself up. “Uh, excuse me, Uncle Lee.” A blink, and he looked fit to burst. “Could I please speak to Scott?”

“Sure….squirt.”

That caused Virgil to frown. Scott thought it was funny. Uncle Lee never seemed to be able to remember Virgil’s name.

And besides, Virgil had a thing about being smaller than Scott and didn’t like it being pointed out.

However, Virgil hurried over anyway. “Scotty, can I borrow Chuckles?”

Blink “His name’s not ‘Chuckles’, it’s Chuck.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “But can I anyway?”

“Why?”

“Johnny won’t leave me alone.”

“He’ll eat his goggles.”

“Better than him eating my nuts.”

Uncle Lee made an odd sound that dissolved into a cough when Scott and Virgil looked at him.

Scott sighed. “Virgil, it’s Christmas. We’re supposed to share.”

Virgil dragged Scott part way across the room, away from Uncle Lee and lowered his voice.

“I tried, but the kit contains small bits. Mom said Johnny wasn’t allowed to play with small things. She said he was too young.” It was almost hissed under Virgil’s breath. “I don’t want him to get hurt or to get into trouble. Chuckles always distracts him.”

His name wasn’t ‘Chuckles’, it was ‘Chuck’ after Chuck Yeager, the first pilot to break the sound barrier. But Virgil had called the bear ‘Chuckles’ once as a joke, Johnny had picked it up and now it was all about Chuckles. It was annoying.

“Well, give him the nuts and tell him to go eat them somewhere else.”

Virgil stared at him aghast, but then his eyes widened. “Nuts. As in ‘nuts and bolts’, Scott! I’m building the robot Grandpa Taylor brought me. Johnny keeps trying to eat bits of metal.”

Oh.

Uncle Taylor had picked up his tablet, but was now staring at them, a question on his face. “You boys okay?”

Scott nodded. “Yes, Uncle Lee. Virgil just needs some help with his kit. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Blue eyes gauged him, but Scott was more worried about his littlest brother and dragged Virgil out the door.

“Where is Johnny?”

“On the floor outside my room.”

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you?”

“No.”

Scott hurried down the hall. “Why didn’t you call Mom?”

“I tried. Mom is talking to Aunt Val and she sounded sad. I didn’t want to interrupt and I didn’t want Johnny to get into trouble. Chuckles will fix it.”

“His name is not Chuckles!”

Scott rounded the corner and to his horror, Virgil’s door was wide open.

He didn’t bother to acknowledge Virgil’s gasp of horror, but instead barrelled on through the door terrified he would find his little brother choking on the floor.

But Virgil’s desk was empty except for the scattered pieces of his project. A quick glance around the room and Scott quickly found Johnny.

He was no more than a tuft of red hair wrapped around Scott’s pilot bear, half buried in Virgil’s bed covers.

Two wide eyes popped up over the top of those goggles. “Scotty!”

Scott hurried over to the bed. “Johnny, are you okay?”

“Chuckles!” Johnny held up the bear and grinned.

Scott sighed and sat down on the bed next to his littlest brother. His heart was beating fast - he had been so scared.

Virgil stood in the centre of his room staring at Johnny, his lip trembling. It was obvious he realised what could have happened when he left to get help.

Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Scotty. I thought he couldn’t get in. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“Virg, he’s okay.” The fright in Virgil’s eyes had the eldest hurrying off the bed from one brother to another. “C’mon, Johnny’s fine. He went and got Chuckles, didn’t you, Johnny?”

The three-year-old’s eyes peered up at Virgil registering his distress and soaking it in like a sponge. His grin vanished and his brow crumpled. “Virgil?” Johnny clambered out of the bed and scampered over to his next eldest brother. “Chuckles? Chuckles make it better?” He offered Virgil the bear.

Virgil stared at Chuckles for a moment before reaching out and taking the fluffy toy. He poked at it gently before hugging it to his chest.

John threw himself at his brother with a huge hug almost knocking Virgil over. Scott reached out and steadied him before adding his own arm to the mix and hugging both his brothers at once. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Scott had to scrub snot off Chuckles’ ear later that night.

-o-o-o-

Christmas Eve was family relaxing time before the busy of the next day. Mom, who had been in the kitchen with Onaha since just after breakfast, called a halt to everything at six in the evening and they sat down for a light buffet of a meal. Every family member donated time or a dish which was mostly warm finger foods like pie and things on sticks.

Scott always looked forward to dessert on Christmas Eve because there were all sorts of interesting things to be had. Aunt Val’s Christmas cookies was one of them.

He stood staring at the different planes so artistically drawn on each of them. They were good enough to be recognisable and none of that generic kiddy stuff kids’ books tried to throw at him. Some were historical, some more modern.

“Trying to decide which plane to eat this year, honey?” Grandma Tracy crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Her long blonde hair flopped over his shoulder as she leant in to kiss him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Scotty.”

“Merry Christmas, Grandma.” But he was still frowning at the cookies. “I can’t see Dad’s plane.”

“Your dad has flown several of those.”

“Yeah, but I want the Sparrowhawk Anderson ZX3.”

Grandma snorted. “Then you’ll have to chase up your father. I saw him nab it earlier.”

Scott turned to his grandmother. “Really?”

“Really.” And it was his father’s deep, smiling voice as Scott was suddenly scooped up in strong laughing arms. “C’mon, ‘Little Jeff’, I’ve saved you your favourite cookie.”

Scott giggled and squirmed, but ultimately clung to his dad, resting his head on his shoulder for just a moment as he was carried across the room to his father’s chair and plomped down on his lap as the man sat down. The longed-for cookie was produced and Scott grabbed it. “Thanks, Dad.”

A big hand on his back, another on his knee, Scott was held close.

“So, what have you and your brothers been up to this week?”

Scott stared at the cookie with the grey, blue and red jet iced on top. “Virgil, did a good drawing of a plane. He didn’t get the tail quite right, but I helped him with that. Johnny learnt some new words.” He couldn’t hold back any longer and bit into the cookie.

It was the best.

Dad snorted. “I heard. I suspected it was you who taught Johnny to say ‘extra-orbital’.”

Scott grinned, his mouth full of biscuit crumbs.

“Swallow before you talk, son.” But his father was smirking.

Scott downed the remains of the cookie, caught between enjoying it and the opportunity to sit and talk with his dad. “He knows all the planets, too.”

“Really?” His father frowned. “He’s only three years old, Scotty.”

Scott sat a bit straighter. I taught him all the names and showed him Mars where you and Uncle Lee went.”

The smile that appeared on his dad’s face only encouraged him. “Virgil drew him pictures of each of them and we stuck them on the wall in his room.”

“That was very kind of the two of you.”

“It made Johnny happy.” Scott didn’t want to mention that Johnny was sometimes sad and always serious. “I want to help him.”

“It sounds like you are doing an excellent job.”

“I’m the eldest.” And Scott knew what Dad was going to say.

“Yes, you are, and that means you have to look after your little brothers. They look up to you and they are your responsibility.”

Scott stared up at those serious grey eyes and for just a second Dad looked like Johnny. “Yes, Dad. I will, I promise.”

His father’s big hand patted his back. “I know you will.”

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #there will be more to this #at some point #maybe #why can't I write everything I want to write?#nuttyfic reblog #wishing everyone a wonderful festive season #hugs you lots

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clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

For the 100 ways to say I love you could you do #1 for muke???

yes!!! omg the same prompt for different pairings, a writing challengé.......i hope this is satisfactory <3 some ambiguous road trip boys

read on ao3

Michael wakes up in the passenger seat. The sky is barely beginning to get light through the window; he must have been asleep a couple hours, because it’d been pitch-black before he’d dozed off.

Also, Ashton had been driving. Now Michael can see Luke in his periphery as he attempts to blink himself awake.

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbles, sleep weighing down his voice. Not to mention his body. All his limbs feel heavy and tired. The nap had been good, though. Once he shakes off the sleep he’ll be nice and refreshed.

Unlike Luke, who, at a glance, is practically sagging over the steering wheel. It’s a miracle they haven’t been run off the road.

“No problem,” Luke says, which is clearly a lie.

“Jesus, when’s the last time you slept?” Michael’s eyes widen in alarm. “How long was I out?”

Luke shushes him, nodding his head towards the backseat, where Calum and Ashton are also fast asleep, curled up together. Adorably, although Michael will die before he admits that.

“I don’t know, four hours? Five?” Luke shrugs one shoulder. “You didn’t wake up when we stopped to switch drivers.”

“But you didn’t fucking sleep, Luke,” Michael says. “Have you slept in the last twenty-four hours?”

Luke presses his lips together. “I’m fine.”

“Oh my God, pull over,” Michael says. “Let me drive a while, I’m nice and awake, please. I’m begging you.”

“Okay, yes, fine! I never said you couldn’t.”

“You should have woken me,” Michael grumbles. “What is wrong with you? Do you want us to die?”

“Hey,” Luke says, hurt. “I was being a nice boyfriend. You were clearly tired.”

“You are clearly tired now,” Michael says, rolling his eyes. “And studies show I am much better behind the wheel when I’m tired than you are.”

“That’s not studies, that’s your personal opinion.”

“It’s not opinion, it’s a fact based on empirical evidence.”

“You know, Calum’s been asleep a while,” Luke says reasonably. “We could wake him. He hasn’t driven in a while.”

“No. I’m driving.”

“Because you don’t want to wake him, right?” Luke doesn’t look at Michael, but a small half-smirk pulls at his lips. “Because you care about him and want him to be well-rested?”

Michael hates him. Honestly.

“Fuck you,” he says. “That’s different.”

“It’s exactly the same.”

“It’s my turn to drive. Calum drove before Ashton.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Pull over, I swear to God.”

“I’m waiting for a rest stop! Would you relax?”

Michael huffs, rubbing at his eyes. They’re on the verge of a sunrise, and while Michael isn’t looking forward to driving straight into the sun, he has to admit he’s excited to see it. He’d slept through the last sunrise. The people in this car seem to be inordinately averse to waking Michael up for any reason. He can’t imagine why.

(Okay, he knows why. Michael will confess he’s not always in the nicest mood when he’s been abruptly jolted awake. Luke exclusively calls him “Grumps” in the morning. It’s a bit of a thing. But still. If it’s between being woken up and dying in a crash because Luke had been too tired to see the truck or whatever, Michael will go with the former.)

It’s another fifteen minutes before they see a rest stop. Michael keeps up a low stream of chatter the whole way. Luke has a look on his face like he knows what Michael is doing, but he indulges Michael’s attempts at conversation anyway.

This is how Michael knows Luke loves him. Michael’s being annoying, and Luke is smiling. Smiling. Even Calum reaches a limit at a certain point, but Luke keeps smiling until he steers them to the rest stop and pulls into a parking space.

They meet in front of the car, and before Luke can step past him Michael grabs his hand and pulls him close, pressing a kiss to his lips. It’s been too many hours since he’s kissed Luke, so he thinks they’re due.

Also he just likes kissing Luke. Which he’s pretty sure is a good enough reason. Boyfriend privilege and all that.

Luke is smiling into the kiss, and when he pulls away it only grows. “God, why are you so happy?” Michael pokes his cheek. “You must be exhausted.”

“I’ve been sitting in silence for four hours,” Luke says. “I missed talking to you.”

“I was next to you. You could have woken me up.”

“I knew you’d bully me into letting you drive. Figured I would let you get as much rest as possible before that happened.”

Michael cracks a smile. “You’re stupid.”

“You’re cute,” Luke returns, kissing him again.

“Hey, why’d we stop?”

Michael and Luke break apart and turn simultaneously to see Ashton stepping out of the car and gently shutting the door behind him. “If you tell me we stopped just so you two could make out a bit, I will—”

“We’re switching drivers,” Michael says. “Seriously? You think we’d stop just to make out?”

“Well, to be fair,” Luke says.

Michael rolls his eyes, even though they totally would. “Luke is going to sleep.”

“Oh, but if you’re awake then you can trade me,” Luke says to Ashton. “I don’t want to sit in the passenger seat just to fall asleep. You can entertain Mike.”

“I’m not a four-year-old,” Michael grumbles.

“Aren’t you?” Ashton says, smirking. Michael flips him off. “Sure, I’ll swap you.”

“Is Calum still asleep?”

Ashton nods, casting a look inside the car, an expression of immeasurable fondness on his face. Honestly, the two of them are ridiculous. “Don’t ask me how. I’ve never seen anyone sleep this long in a car. Through two stops.”

“He drove for a long time,” Luke says.

Ashton draws his brows together. “I hope he’s feeling okay,” he mutters. “I wonder if something’s wrong.”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Michael says. “Calum’s got the weirdest sleep habits of anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Not weirder than yours,” Luke says, squeezing Michael’s waist. “Mr. Nocturnal.”

“At least I’m consistently nocturnal,” Michael retorts. “Can we go?”

Luke kisses Michael’s temple. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

“Tradesies,” Ashton sings, traipsing over to Michael and throwing his arm around Michael’s shoulder. “Hell yeah, Mike and Ash in the front seat once again. Unstoppable team.”

“If you’re going to be like this, I will wake Calum up.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Ashton says, grinning exaggeratedly. “Me and you, Mikey-poo! Front seat boys!”

“Oh my God,” Michael groans, trying not to smile. “How you can be this cheerful after waking up is a mystery I will never solve.”

“The world is a magical and mysterious place and I am but one of the many enigmas that lives within it,” Ashton says solemnly. Then he giggles, like even he can’t take himself seriously. “Get in the car, come on. Lotta ground to cover.”

That’s true. Even with how far they’ve gone, they still have a long way to go. Michael takes his place in the driver’s seat and waits for Ashton to buckle his seatbelt.

The ignition is still on, but before Michael drives out he glances into the rearview mirror, reaching up to adjust it (because much as Michael hates to admit it, Luke is in fact taller than him). When he leans forward, he can see Calum in the reflection, still soundly asleep; Luke shifts until Calum’s head is on his shoulder and then leans his own head onto Calum’s mess of curls.

“Mike?” Ashton says. “We going?”

In the rearview mirror, Luke smiles at him, and this time Michael smiles back.

“Yeah,” he says, and shifts into first. “We’re going.”

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tagsecretsanta · 3 years

Text

From @Gumnut-logic

to @angelofbenignmalevolence

Secret Santa does not own this work, full credit to the author mentioned above!

Working Title: Chuckles

Author: Gumnut

Spoilers & Warnings: Mostly fluff so far, but likely some sadness further into the fic.

Author notes:

Happy Holidays and best wishes for the new year!

This is my TAG Secret Santa offering. As usual, my muse did not behave and this is just the first chapter of what is likely to be a series of stories. I have one and a half more written and will be posting them over on my blog as I manage to write them. The bonus is that they are whole stories, so no cliffhangers. Some will be fluff, some not so much.

I hope you enjoy whatever they turn out to be.

My prompts were:

Jeff's first Christmas home after the Oort Cloud

Little Tracys and their christmas morning routine

Anything with Christmas cookies!

Let’s see how many of these I can cram in.

Nutty

(off the edge, but learning to fly)

-o-o-o-

2035

Scott was six when he met Chuckles.

Of course, he wasn’t named Chuckles at that point. In fact, he didn’t have a name at all when Scott tore the Christmas paper off his face.

He was one present among several and him and his blue eyes were put aside on the small pile of presents in eager anticipation of what the next one might be.

Scott stomped back into the living room grumped about that for a full five minutes or so, but Mom was right. He knew Johnny was only little.

The whole tree came with it.

“Johnny, no!”

After that there was a ruckus as his mother and his father came running in from the kitchen and rescued the both of them.

But both of his parents thanked him for saving little Johnny and honestly it felt good to help.

It was Scott’s.

But Johnny had hugging rights as long as he didn’t drool on it.

Scott held up the Christmas bear.

It was smiling at him rather sure of itself.

This bear flew planes. Scott wanted to fly a plane. Daddy flew planes some times.

There was a silver star on the bear’s jacket.

“Look, Johnny, a star.” He pointed to the shape.

Johnny grabbed at the bear. “Star!”

Scott let him have it with something between a grin and a sigh. His little brother hugged the bear and toddled off with it.

Okay, so perhaps he could share him a little.

-o-o-o-

End 2035

#thunderbirds are go #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Thunderbirds 2015 #tag team secret santa #secret santa 2020

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

Weak

anonymous asked: can we get a bakugou fluff based on the song hug all ur friends by cavetwon

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

warning: bakugou has high anxiety, cussing, fluff

word count: 4,000

a/n: so I listened to the 1 hour loop to this song when writing it LMAO, I think its one of my better pieces ive written, but I guess that’s also for you to decide!!!!!! enjoy!!!!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Bakugou Katsuki was someone who had no guilt in admitting that he cared about himself first and foremost. Bakugou Katsuki never imagined a day would come where he would find himself interested in someone-- especially in a romantic setting.

Romance and Bakugou, to him it seemed like mixing oil and water. Impractical and impossible.

Bakugou was hard, rough, and explosive.

Romance was soft, tender, and weakening.

So for the life of him, Bakugou could not understand why on god you were consuming his thoughts. Why did you have him wrapped around your fingers despite you only being his best friend? What the hell was wrong with him?!

Bakugou stared at you from the distance, his eyes were warm, his face soft, and the book in his hands long forgotten.

You were a force, this overwhelming energy that he could not figure out.

You weren’t like Kirishima who gained his friendship through mutual respect and trust in each other’s strengths. You weren’t like Sero or Mina who he came to see as friends after he used them for their quirks two years ago. You weren’t like Kaminari who he saw as a friend because Kirishima came as this unknown package deal.

You were soft, tender, and in no way were you weak, but Bakugou couldn’t think of any other word to describe you but weak.

It made no sense as to how you two became friends. The two of you had spoken once! Then you landed a punch on his jaw so strong that he needed to go to Recovery Girl and you cried for hours afterward. Bakugou thought it was dumb that you were apologizing so he yelled at you for being stupid. Seconds later you two were friends.

“Bakasuki, it’s way past your bedtime!” You screamed as you looked up from your phone. Your eyes red with tiredness and irritation still shone as you made eye contact. The impressed grin on your face as strong as if it was midday. “It’s midnight?!”

Bakugou felt his face cement over again. It was an involuntary action as you rambled off about how the big softie Bakugou Katsuki was awake at 'crackhead' hours. As you got up and walked over to Bakugou, he felt his hardened features melt as you took a stance in front of him.

“I bet you’re staying up because of me, come on, admit that you like me.”

Your words are teasing of course, yet Bakugou’s heart clenches at the truth of your words. Bakugou one year ago had begun staying awake past nine because of you. You were always active at night! You told new stories that Bakugou wanted to hear at a late hour, and Bakugou soon found himself staying up.

Ten at night turned to eleven, eleven became twelve, and then Bakugou was up until two in the morning because of you. He never complained about it, and he never dared to tell you or anyone about it. Bakugou took every teasing you gave, and you teased him about him staying up every night even if it was a year later.

“Trust me, if I was staying up because of you I would fucking hate myself,” Bakugou lies as you laugh. “Don’t think you’re fucking special because I tolerate you.”

His words were harsh to the average ear, but to the trained ear, to your ear, it was as if he nudged you playfully.

“Sure you old grump,” you wink as you stick out your hand. “Iida said it’s my turn with the Disney+, wanna go watch with me?”

“As long as you don’t make me watch something fucking horrible,” Bakugou grunts as he takes your hand.

He would watch the sappiest of movies and the weirdest of shows if it meant that you’d snuggle into his side. His favorite memories have you at his left. These memories also included you between his legs as you laughed hysterically at the horrible and childish jokes. It also didn’t matter how many times you watched the same movie, you always ramble as if it was your first time viewing it.

“I’m thinking Lilo and Stitch,” you let him into your thoughts as you begin walking towards the staircase. His hand is still locked with yours. “I think I can be Lilo, and you can be Stitch! You two have very similar personalities!”

“Like hell I’m anything like that fucking animal!”

“I didn’t even need to goad you into a reaction!”

“Shut up dumbass…”

“If I ever stopped talking to you, you would go insane! So careful what you wish for!”

“I wish you would shut up…”

Bakugou watched as your lips pressed flat together. A faux annoyed expression on your face and you dropped his hand.

It may have embarrassed Bakugou to admit what he did next, but it took him five seconds to crack under your cold shoulder. He threw you over his shoulder as he walked to your room. Your squealing exclamations were loud as he held your lower thigh.

“See I told you--”

“Shut the fuck up, shitty woman!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

Your loud groan rang in Bakugou’s ears and his eyebrow twitched as he once again looked at your slumped figure. It was the second to last set of finals you guys would be taking as hero students. Three years later, you were nearing the final countdown to graduation! But that meant finals.

Bakugou had managed to stay within the top three of his class all three years. So he felt decent in where he was in class ranking right now. He has ranked third right now after all, but you ranked fifteenth. A feat that he had zero idea about how it came to be considering how smart you were. You had a sharp mind, a witty sense of humor, and a deadly tongue! Yet you were barely outperforming the rest of his idiot friends. You were one of the few people who could beat him in a verbal challenge! But when it came to pencil and paper tests, you stumbled hard.

“Would you stop fucking groaning?! You’re not getting anything done except getting on my goddamn nerves!”

“WELL!” You immediately yelled back, your nose stuck to the sky as you tossed your pencil away. “I don’t know actually! I screamed well because I live for the dramatics!" Bakugou groaned as you laugh. "Okay, but this all makes sense to me now! It's... I’ve realized I become an idiot whenever I try doing it on the exams.”

“It’s because you are an idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” you complain as you slam your forehead against your math textbook. You shot back up gasping loudly. “OH SHIT! Bakugou you solved all my problems! This entire time I’ve been an idiot! I’ll tell Deku to give me some smart people juice tomorrow morning, obviously, I’ve been sipping the idiot juice.”

“Hah? Fucking hell -- do you ever shut up and wait for me to finish what I’m saying?!”

“Bakasuki, there was a period at the end of that sentence! Or let me guess what you’d say next!”

“Don’t fucking guess--”

“‘Oi, shitty woman, I’m Baku-hoe Kat-sucky, and you better get your head outta your asshole! Maybe if you weren’t always on your goddamn phone you wouldn’t be failing’!” Your voice had lowered multiple octaves to the point where you sounded like you smoked every day. Bakugou watched as your face contorted into a mock scowl, your nose stuck into the air as your arms folded across your chest. “‘I’m the alpha nerd here, so you have to fucking listen to me, you damn fucking nerd ass shitty woman!’”

Bakugou remained silent as you erupted in giggles, your eyes beaming with joy as you looked at him.

“I don’t fucking cuss, shitty woman,” Bakugou retorted. He knew it was a lie but the way your eyes expanded four times their size and how you pressed your face into his shoulder was worth the lie.

“You don’t cuss?! Wow, suddenly my name isn’t y/n!”

“Hm, well I was going to point out that you probably have some form of testing anxiety, but since you’re Miss. Fucking-Know-It-All…”

“There’s no way I’m eighteen and don’t know that about me!”

“Well, you didn’t fucking know you loved chocolate caramels until this last month either.”

This launched you into another tangent. Your conversation skills always gave Bakugou whiplash! You talked about everything you could and right now it was about what you loved. It should have annoyed Bakugou, he knew that! But while you rambled about how you loved seeing oversized dogs in bags, he realized that he loved knowing more about you.

How he would kill for the chance to pull you close, he knew that if he did you would hug him without a blink of an eye. Bakugou knew if he attempted to feel your warmth you’d overwhelm him forever and he wasn’t sure if that was something he wanted. Did he want you? Did he actually love you or was it just the chemistry in his brain is dumb. He wasn’t sure what he wanted as you showcased your favorite pencil.

“Do you have something you love, ‘suki?”

You.

“No, I don’t fucking love anything. The hell is love good for?”

“Don’t you worry about what people think about you when you can’t answer a question on something you love?”

The only opinion he cares about is yours.

“They don’t need to fucking care about what I love, how the hell does that make me a reliable pro hero?! Gossip and tabloids and interviews are bullshit. How is me smiling and being nice in front of a camera going to prove anything?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened as you wrapped your arms around him drawing him into a tight embrace. His eyes blinked rapidly as he felt frozen. His hands are frozen at his side as you pressed into him. You were making him dizzy. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he feared you could hear it as you pressed your lips to his ear.

“Sometimes you just have to hug people, let them know that you’re not letting go. Being kind and offering a hand, even if it kills your feral vibes, gives them a reason to love you and trust them. Trust is important, you know that, dummy. Hugging them is a small promise of not letting go.”

His breathing stilled as you pulled away. Your hair fell in your face and you sucked everything out of him as you smiled softly. But who would Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t have something back to say?

“I’m not fucking hugging any of those damn extras out there!”

“It was a FIGURE OF SPEECH, BAKAGOU!”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

“Rise and shine, grumpy old man!” Your voice rang as bright sunshine shone through Bakugou’s room.

“Fucking hell, y/n! Shut my goddamn shutters!”

“It is past noon, and I am here to make sure you are in fact alive!”

“Shitty woman, please close the damn shutters… I got in three hours ago and I want to fucking sleep in.”

The shutters closed immediately and guilt hung heavy in your voice as you said, “Wait you got in at nine?! You got called out of class early, too!”

Bakugou who had been sitting up now, glowering at your form fell back onto his mattress without a word. Unfortunately, it seemed that you weren’t quite done with him.

“Why the hell are you still in my room?”

“...can I nap with you?”

“Hah?”

“I was out from five in the morning until a few minutes ago! I just… want to cuddle, but if you don’t want to that’s totally cool!”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” he nearly growls. It wasn’t necessarily directed at you, but instead himself. He was going to let you obviously, but how much longer could he do this uncaring act? How he hadn’t just slammed your oblivious ass against a door to kiss the soul out of you was beyond him. “Get in.”

A loud squeal emitted from your throat as Bakugou felt your figure snuggling into his chest. Your body was cold against his, and he resisted the urge to shiver as you wrapped his arm around you.

“I never fucking said you were allowed to cuddle.”

“Oh please, you were going to latch onto me at some point, might as well do it now instead of waking up to it and freaking out.”

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Shh, I’m trying to nap.”

Bakugou snorted but nonetheless brought you in closer as he too closed his eyes. He ended up falling asleep with you in his arms. It wasn’t until he woke up did he realize that today was to be your friend's date. Something you had been persistent in having. But as you too woke up at half-past seven p.m., the both of you agreed that the nap was way better than going out.

That is until Kaminari sent a picture of Bakugou and you cuddling to the group chat. But then again, Bakugou may or may not have saved it as his home screen.

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

4:48 a.m.

Bakugou’s eyes focused on the neon red numbers that illuminated across his bed. His alarm was positioned as such so he would be forced to get up to turn it off in the morning.

His heartbeat was pounding in his ears as everything turned blurry.

4:49 a.m.

His eyes closed and he was suddenly back in Kamino two years ago.

His body felt dirty, sticky, unclean.

His mouth tainted with the taste of copper. His teeth gritting together as he saw All Might fighting in front of him.

It was hard to fight with his sweat-soaked and stiff clothes. All he knew was those bastards turned from wanting to convert him to wanting him dead. He remembers stumbling and seeing your frantic eyes in the corner of his vision. He didn't know you well back then, so it confused him, at least before a yell from Kirishima took his attention away.

It was the first actual memory he had of you, and yet it intertwined with his memory of All Might’s downfall. A downfall that could have been prevented if he had just been fucking better. If he had been a better hero maybe he wouldn’t have been caught. If he had been a better person maybe he would never have been targeted in the first place. It didn’t matter how many different ways he ran through his memories, it always ended up being his fault.

The fight with Deku had helped relieve the surface tension. All Might saying it wasn’t his fault barely made an impact on the guilt demon that ate away at his inner thoughts.

Simply told, tonight was a bad night. Nothing he did could drive away the guilt demon.

You were the one who made him strong but you were out on a mission for your hero work. You were being a hero to people who needed you, yet Bakugou wanted you to be his hero right now…

His anxiety crawled down his spine. His mind swimming back to the image of All Might's defeated form, and it kept reeling in his mind. His palms sweated profusely, but at this point, he had no idea if it was from his anxiety or from his quirk.

It burned to breathe and he wanted to go for a run, but he knew he shouldn’t. So he stood up out of bed choosing to walk down to the kitchen.

4:57 a.m., the clock read as the door shut behind him.

He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway, his heart racing as he went down the staircase.

The lights were on and it made his eyes hurt as he opened the door for the ground floor.

“‘Suki?” A tired voice whispered as Bakugou stared up.

It was you.

Your uniform looked rumpled and dirty. Your tie wasn’t done and your hair was a mess as you yawn, your hand rubbing your eye as you waved at him. Bakugou saw the bandage on your neck and cheek and he pointed at them.

“Some dumbass with a--” you stifle a yawn as you shake your head. “Fucking vampire quirk! If he bit you, and consumed your blood, you would be entranced with him! Can you believe that!”

Bakugou snorted as you showed him the bruised mark on your neck.

“Thing is, he doesn’t have fangs, his teeth were super dull, so now I look like I had sex!”

“Can’t have people thinking that huh?”

“Nah... now, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bakugou knew better than to lie to you, but he couldn’t help it, you needed to sleep.

“Nothing, I needed water.”

“I’m sure you are,” you nod your head as you adjust your backpack. “But that doesn’t explain why there’s tears in your eyes and on your cheeks.”

His eyes widened as he felt the wet stains on his face, he was indeed crying.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” he grumbled as his hands shoved into his sweats.

“That’s okay,” you smile as you take a few steps forward. “Can I give you a hug?”

It takes everything in him not to scream at you to hug him, so instead, he turns his head and nods curtly. Your arms are wrapped around him immediately as he feels himself shrinking into your hold. You were safe, you were warm, and you made him weak.

It was at that moment that Bakugou Katsuki noticed that he completely and utterly was in love with you.

As he went through these thoughts you grabbed his hand and led him upstairs, “I’ll get you your water, but you need to rest.”

“Shitty woman, I can take care of myself,” Bakugou breathed as he didn’t resist you taking him to his room. “Besides we have class tomorrow, you need more sleep than I do.”

He watches as you shrug as you open his room door.

“Maybe so, but I’m a Hero and you’re someone in need of a savior!” you chirped as your lips pressed softly onto his cheek as you sat him in bed. “I’ll be right back, lay down please!”

He nodded dumbly as you left, his cheeks burning as the door closed.

It felt like no time had passed as you soon returned with a cup of water, “Now drink! Crying is good for the soul, but it dehydrates you so much.”

“Tch, idiot, don’t say that like you cry all the time,” Bakugou grumbles as he chugs the water down.

Your fingers take the glass from him and place it onto the desk, your shoulders bouncing as you sigh one last time. “Well, I should go to bed, I may not need beauty sleep, but even three hours of sleep can make me ugly.”

“Sleep here,” Bakugou found himself mumbling as you were by the door. “You can take a shirt, I just… please, just fucking sleep here with me?”

Bakugou expected teasing, he expected you to laugh it off and say he was dumb and crazy. What he didn’t expect was for you to grab his skull t-shirt and strip your clothes off in his bathroom.

He stilled as you crawled into bed with him, your body curling into his as you held him near.

“Goodnight, ‘suki,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, a sharp intake of air went through your nose.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you, y/n.”

“You’re welcome…”

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You smile while wiping away tears that formed in your eyes.

Tears streamed uncontrollably down your face as you taped up the last box with writing that read: Y/N PICTURES.

It was moving out day, you had done it, you graduated.

“Y/l/n-chan!! Stop crying and c-come take a p-p-picture with us!” Mina wailed as she too was crying uncontrollably.

The common room was fill of every one of your classmates, tears were in everyone's eyes as boxes scattered near the entrance. It was over. Three years of heaven and hell were gone and even though everyone would still be seeing everyone again (you all were working in the same general areas after all), tears wouldn’t stop.

Multiple times you brushed away tears as twenty-one of you stood for class pictures.

Class pictures became friend group pictures, friend group pictures became trios and duo pictures.

Everyone was crying and everyone was laughing too. It was as if you were never going to see anyone again and the tears wouldn’t stop.

I love you’s were exchanged, promises of not forgetting who each other were as you would all become stars, and plans on monthly meetups because you were family. It was too much, it was too sentimental, and you were ready to leave.

“I hate to do this to you all, but it’s time to go,” Aizawa lulled over the roar of your classes chatter.

For the first time, his words were useless as you all took a photo with him, much to your homeroom teachers' secret enjoyment.

But now it was time to go.

You gave a one-armed hug to Mineta as he bounded out of the door. He had somewhat had drunk respect-women juice and was now tolerable. But the nightmares forever remained.

Then Koda, Aoyama, Shoji, Ojiro, Tokoyami, and Sato were done swiftly yet deeply. They all said kind words and promises to keep in touch as they left.

Then it was Iida, Todoroki, and Midoriya. The group of boys embraced you tightly as Iida told you and Midoriya to stop crying. It only strengthening your tears as Todoroki patted your back softly.

Then it was Mina, Momo, Jirou, Tsu, Uraraka, and Hagakure. The girl group and the reason why this class felt like family so quickly made you cry harder as you all lost it. Hugs were tight, hugs lasted minutes long as you all shouted over each other. This was not goodbye, just a see you later.

Sero, Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Jirou once again met you for a tight embrace. The dubbed Bakusquad because Bakugou was the loudest one in the group, but you all knew that if the group never held Kirishima it would never work. Bakusquad was truly Kirisquad and you excitedly talked about how you were all going to karaoke on Sunday.

A gentle cough broke you from Sero’s embrace and you turned to the last person who you hadn’t hugged yet.

Bakugou didn’t look at you as he sighed, his shoulder slumping as he looked at you. Your lips quirked as your heart raced at his red-tinged eyes, he had cried too.

“We’ll see you guys later!” Kaminari yelled as the boxes in the now empty common room belonged to you.

“We’re still on for tonight?” Bakugou asked as his finger brushed the wet trails that stained your cheeks.

“Have I ever ditched you or stood you up?”

“You could have made plans in your crying hysteria, it’s been done before.”

His words are teasing and you laugh as you launch yourself into his arms. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest around your waist.

“I don’t know why you weren’t interested in having a spa day with the girls!” You teased as you bit your lower lip.

“Too much gossip about dicks,” Bakugou rolled his eyes as he squeezed you tightly.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t go, I wouldn’t have wanted you to see me talking about my dick of a boyfriend,” you whisper as his eyes shine brilliantly.

“Hah? You’re really gonna fucking--”

Bakugou never got to finish that sentence as your lips pressed against his and his mind went weak as he kissed you back.

You were the undoing of Bakugou Katsuki.

You made him weak, yet he’s never felt stronger.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha imagines #mha bakugou

1K notes · View notes

halothenthehorns · 3 years

Text

TLTNL- THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Harry desperately hoped that this chapter would be the hearing, so that he could be done with it already. He really was playing off to his family how unconcerned he was, and doing a pretty good job of it considering he always had something else so far to distract him. He just couldn't shake off that it was eating away at him though, there would come a time where he'd be leaving Hogwarts for a long, extended period of time, and it wasn't because he graduated. This wasn't because he was expelled though, right?!

"Harry, you get lost in those pages? We're not that far in," James called as Harry just kept staring without starting. Harry gave a soft jump, but managed half a smile for his dad before he got started.

Harry slammed back into consciousness the next morning well before the sun would have. He lay there for a few moments in immobile fear before adrenaline got him moving and dressed, finding the freshly pressed clothes from Mrs. Weasley on his bed.

Lily pressed her lips very firmly together. She didn't even know what would have come out of Molly doing this for her son, again, but she knew Harry wouldn't have appreciated the comment as he was clearly touched by the thought.

He snuck out of his room without awakening Ron, and with nowhere else to go headed down into the kitchen, expecting to find no one else there, but instead finding Sirius, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Remus. Tonks managed a morning greeting for him around a yawn, this morning her hair was blond and curly.

"Wonder just how often she changes that," Sirius tried, and failed, to keep the jitteriness out of his own voice at what Harry could be fixing to read.

"On the hour I'm sure, I know you would," Remus tried, and failed, at a joking tone.

She tried to draw out a chair for Harry to sit, but only managed to knock another one over in the process.

"I'm sure that helped to wake her up," James did get up a smile for that.

Mrs. Weasley was already at the stove, prepared to get anything for breakfast Harry would like, but he only requested some toast while Lupin turned back to Tonks and clearly continued a previous conversation about Scrimgeour.

Harry shifted unconsciously at the sound of that name, while Lily wondered what that old Auror was up to.

"Hang on, I know that surname," Sirius ruffled his brow before snapping his fingers and saying, "that's right, Brutus Scrimgeour wrote a book called The Beater's Bible."

"Which holds all of one page, and one sentence," Remus rolled his eyes, "take out the Seeker, so I hardly think he should be held in such high esteem."

"That was a work of art that was," Sirius insisted, but for once Harry didn't really want to sit around and watch them pick at each other, so he was actually glad when Lily told them to quiet down.

She told that he'd been asking her and Kingsley some funny questions at work.

"Not about Sirius though?" James yelped, now very well distracted by Harry's problem.

"I'm sure that's what I'm keeping tabs on," Remus pacified.

Harry felt vaguely grateful that he was not required to join in the conversation.

"Which means you weren't paying attention," Sirius pouted, as he had been a bit curious to hear the end of that.

His insides were squirming. Mrs. Weasley placed a couple of pieces of toast and marmalade in front of him. He tried to eat, but it was like chewing carpet.

"I find it hard to believe the woman you've so consistently praised for her cooking could manage to ruin toast," Remus smirked.

"Must have something to do with having to eat all by his lonesome, that can be awkward for some," Sirius did get in an almost playful tone.

Mrs. Weasley sat down on his other side and started fussing with his shirt. He wished she wouldn't.

"So do I," Lily couldn't seem to stop that one escaping, causing Harry to wince and not look up at her.

Tonks was still talking about how she'd have to pass the message along to Dumbledore she couldn't do guard duty again tonight, she was just to tired, punctuating that by finishing on another yawn.

"How did you manage to phase out the best part of that conversation?" James pouted. "They were talking about this mysterious guard duty again! If you can't find out about this stupid thing Voldemort wants, at least you could focus on that!"

Harry could just feel a sucker punch winding up to get him good if he even considered pausing on the phrasing of that for just a second, even if he was dying to linger on why those two things should be put together...

"He didn't phase out anything," Lily scolded, misunderstanding Harry's look. "Tonks just switched topics, don't go blaming Harry when he's been shown repeatedly to pick up on conversations that aren't even going on right next to him."

Arthur quickly offered to cover for her, he had to do a report tonight anyways.

"What on earth are they guarding that's so lax he can be doing homework while sitting on it?" Remus blinked in surprise. "I'd think that would have fallen under Harry watching duty."

"Whatever it is must be boring as drywall," Sirius agreed, meaning it couldn't be that important, just some side project. Why couldn't he at least be doing that then? He didn't bring it up though just because he didn't want to hear someone telling him again of where he was supposed to be.

Arthur turned his attention on Harry then and promised this would all be over soon, in a few hours his name would be cleared. Harry could think of nothing to say to that.

"Can't honestly think of anything to say to that either," James agreed.

He tried to soothe the hearing was on his floor, in Amelia Bones's office.

"Haven't heard of her," Lily muttered nervously.

Tonks spoke up eagerly that she was Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was fair, she'd hear Harry out.

Harry wasn't at all comforted he had no actual feelings for this being said, maybe that meant it was so uneventful and he walked away in complete comfort? Then why was he feeling such a bad omen for what had just been read?

Sirius quickly tacked on not for him to lose his temper. Just stick to the facts and be polite.

"You know that kind of advice from him really is a walking oxymoron," Remus smirked.

Harry just nodded along as Lupin added that the law was on Harry's side, all underage wizards were allowed to use magic in life-threatening situations.

"So everyone keeps saying," Harry grumped, "yet I can't help but notice no one can look me in the eyes when they do."

Harry didn't have to respond to that one as he was distracted by Mrs. Weasley trying to attack his hair with a wet comb, demanding of no one if it ever laid flat?

"No," all five of them said as one, James in fact ruffling up his hair for emphasis.

Harry just shook his head as answer, while Arthur butted in maybe they should just go up there early. Harry stood at once in agreement, while everyone wished him one last bit of good luck, Sirius even promising that if everything wasn't fine, he'd see to Amelia Bones.

"Least you know Sirius doesn't play around with the important things," James chuckled, leaving Harry still unsure how much of a joke that was supposed to be.

Harry smiled weakly. Mrs. Weasley hugged him, promising everyone had their fingers crossed.

"That is the most honest thing anyone's yet said to him," Lily said grudgingly.

He forced one last goodbye for them all as he followed Mr. Weasley out the front door, and even as he glanced behind Grimmauld place was vanishing behind him. Harry kept close to Mr. Weasley's heels as he asked if he normally walked to work?

Arthur said no, he usually just apparated, but considering he was making an appearance for magical misconduct, the less magical his arrival the better.

While none of them outright disagreed with that, this did feel quite odd to them. Harry had needed a whole guard to escort him to Grimmauld place from the Dursleys, but now just Arthur was deemed safe enough to get Harry there? The date of Harry's leaving that place had been unknown to even him, yet the fact that there was unquestionably spies in the Ministry who would know this date, and so could be in fact planning an ambush for Harry to arrive by his lonesome seemed honestly like a far more likely possibility. It genuinely bugged the current Order members they couldn't seem to get a handle on this Order's priorities, regarding Harry or anything!

Mr. Weasley kept his hand tight in his own pocket the whole way to the subway, and even as he entered the muggle filled underground, though his enthusiasm for looking at all things around him didn't dim.

"I really just can not wait to meet him in person," Lily said with honest fondness at the idea of him, he just seemed so pleasant and happy to be around even while he was being as on guard and serious as possible.

He kept muttering how wondrous and fabulous the old automatic ticket machines, that were out of order, were.

"Doesn't make them any less interesting," James said even without knowing what that was, and honestly not bothering to ask.

They boarded a train with Mr. Weasley constantly checking all the maps along the way, to check their stops as well as fascination on his part.

"If he usually Apparates, how does he even know where he's going?" Harry asked just for something to kick around a bit of conversation and not dwell on what he was heading towards. Why was the idea of going to the Ministry filling him with such heavy amounts of dread? Just what happened here to make him feel like running screaming from the room? This couldn't all be tied to his fear of being expelled-

"I'm sure Arthur in particular asked for directions," Lily pointed out, "but I also know that upon anyone's very first time there they have to go in through the visitor entrance, and so have to get there in the Muggle way somehow. I'm confident Arthur's just going off his memories of his first few visits there."

Every time the train came to a halt he'd utter how many stops they had left until their turn, until finally they were exiting into the street and at first he blinked around in confusion.

"Because that's encouraging to hear from your guide," Remus snorted.

For one heart stopping moment Harry thought they'd gotten lost, but then Arthur seemed to find his bearings and lead them off down a side road. He apologized for his momentary confusion, he'd never been in the visitors' entrance before.

Harry reopened his mouth with questioning eyes on his mother, who shrugged and corrected herself, "perhaps I was generalizing a bit too much then, I was speaking as a Muggleborn. I suppose as Arthur has most likely been there before he got a job, just like Ron in his youth, then it was simply just asking for directions."

They longer they walked the less imposing the buildings around them became, until finally they came into a shabby square full of unkept offices and a pub. Harry had expected something more imposing for the Ministry of Magic.

"After you've seen the Leaky Cauldron?" James reminded. "I'd have thought by now you'd learned we like to conceal our things on the outside as undesirable as possible from Muggles."

"It still threw me off," Harry shrugged.

Arthur went right up to a rickety phone booth that had a few panes of glass missing, and then offered the door for Harry to enter first.

Harry glanced around curiously, but saw no one else looking particularly surprised, which meant they'd all used this at least once. He decided to just roll with it rather than asking, as he was fixing to find out anyways.

Mr. Weasley unhooked the phone from the lever, which was falling apart and looked as if someone had tried to rip it out at some point, and dialed the number six two four four two.

Lily smiled to herself, though this time she was entirely sure she was the only one who got the joke of what those numbers could spell on a telephone, the word magic.

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.

Harry's eyes flipped wide in surprise, but only for a moment before he moved on like this was now perfectly natural to him. Lily almost longed for that childish awe she'd seen on his face at every new magical thing he'd come across back during the first few books, and suddenly wanted her baby back in her arms for just a moment, just a reminder she could still have some of her baby to her.

She spoke for them to say their name and business, and Arthur answered for both of them. A silver visitors badge slipped out of the coin slot for Harry, and then the voice instructed for them to stop by the security desk. Then the bottom of the box shuddered, and they were sinking down into the ground.

"It's underground?" Harry said in surprise.

"No reason why not," James agreed.

They went through a dark tunnel with a loud grinding noise of gears their only source of sensation, until finally light began pouring into their feat, and when Harry could finally look around again, his mouth flopped open at the sight of the Ministry of Magic.

Lily frowned to herself, now wishing because of before she could see that expression on him again, but he didn't seem too moved by the reappearance of this place in his mind. If anything he was looking more ill the longer they lingered on the place.

They were standing at one end of a splendid hall with a polished wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly noticeboard.

"It is," Sirius agreed, "though those are actually enhanced star trackers and constellations in symbol form."

Harry couldn't decide if he was joking or not, but laughed all the same.

All along the edges were chimneys that were glowing green and near constantly popping out people from the Floo network arriving for work. Halfway down the hall was a fountain.

A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool.

Harry was getting more antsy the longer he kept getting out a description of that place, unconsciously moving closer to Sirius with every new thing that left his brain feeling like swiss cheese.

Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard.

James snorted in disgust, that fountain was the most idiotic thing he'd ever seen in his life.

Imposed into the bottom of the statue of Magical Brethren was a notice saying all coins donated into the water would be proceeds to St. Mungo's Hospital.

"I wonder how much income that actually generates," Lily said randomly.

"I like to think it at least makes someone happy to think it's helping," Sirius said fairly, he'd been known to dump a handful of coins in it every time he passed, which admittedly wasn't often.

Harry's first thought was, if he wasn't expelled, he'd put ten Galleons into there.

"Those magic well wishes have to come true at some point," Lily told him with a grin, causing Harry to at least smile at her again.

Mr. Weasley guided Harry into a crowd that was mostly passing a bored looking security man, but Harry stopped in front of him and was subjected to a golden rod passing over him, and then regretfully handed over his wand to be placed on a scale looking object that spat out the properties of his wand. He stabbed the information onto a notice with others and then gave Harry back his wand which he took with relief. He hardly glanced once at Harry through the whole exchange.

"Gee thanks," James rolled his eyes, though he did understand how monotonous and boring that man's job must be, it sounded impossible to muster up enthusiasm especially that early in the morning.

Harry politely thanked him all the same, which only garnered attention long enough for the man to realize who he may be looking at and glance up at Harry's forehead.

Sirius gave a sarcastic little applause for him taking so long to realize this.

Arthur was already steering Harry away though into a series of gates that went into lifts and a huge assortment of wizards, including one carrying a cardboard box that was smoking slightly.

"I'm sure that has an interesting story," James said in a strained voice as he watched Remus wince, everyone but Harry knowing which floor that box would most likely be going to.

Arthur greeted him as Bob, and asked what he had there?

"No, really, does Arthur know everyone?" Lily shook her head in disbelief as it seemed every time Arthur was mentioned he began speaking to a dozen new people.

The man began seriously no one was sure,

"No one ever seems sure about me," Sirius smirked, and Harry finally broke his stream of bad mood to giggle at that again, though it only made the flood of worry rise again to another degree...something about Sirius in this place- he closed his eyes sharply and considered whacking himself in the forehead to get his brain to stop before he really hurt himself and kept going just a spot more loudly.

It seemed like a standard chicken until it started breathing fire, and now it looked like a serious breach of the Ban on Experimental Breeding.

"I would never breach any such thing!" Sirius yipped, causing Harry to laugh harder and his friends to groan louder.

The lift arrived then, and they got on with a few more people, the same cool female voice as before instructing which landing they stopped on each time, like Level Seven, Department of Magical Games and Sports, including such things as the Official Gobstones Club, and Ludicrous Patents Office.

In the bustle of people coming and going from each stop, a man managed to whack a few people with his arms full of brooms.

"There's an Official Gobstones Club?" Harry asked, mouth twitching as he tried to picture something he'd seen as a playful game around Hogwarts in World Cup style with fans cheering on a bunch of people squatting on the ground.

"There's an official everything," James smirked.

Lily was just wondering at that last one, if that was actually a person's name or they really had to create a whole office for the insane patents people invented, both were possible honestly.

The next was Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office and Apparation Test Centre.

"Wouldn't the man who just stepped off with the brooms go to Broom Regulatory Control?" Harry asked, seeming to get into it now of questioning each and every floor and what all those could entail. He wished he didn't have such bad feelings of this place, it sounded fascinating now that he was hearing about it.

"Depends on what the brooms are for honestly," Remus shrugged, "he could be delivering them to someone, or he could have just gotten off on the wrong floor."

Once again the lift doors opened and four or five witches and wizards got out; at the same time, several paper aeroplanes swooped into the lift.

Lily blinked in confusion of what those could be for.

Harry was watching them flap around the top curiously as Arthur explained those were interdepartmental memos. They used to use live owls, but the mess was unbelievable, droppings everywhere.

"Oh," Lily nodded in understanding, "well that's new."

"Must be nice not to have to banish the mess away all day," James chuckled.

On Level Five they also passed by the Department of International Magical Cooperation,

Harry gave a bit of a wince as he read that out, hating any reminder of Percy, even where he used to work.

and Level Four, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, incorporating Beast, Being and Spirit Divisions, plus a few others.

Remus flinched hard enough he looked like he'd just dodged a deadly spell, and Harry went from looking back at the words, back to him, and blanched in surprise as he realized what about that could bother him so much. "They, they don't really have you labeled as a, as one of those do they?" He demanded.

Remus smiled without humor as he reminded Harry, "I know you took a lesson over this Harry, yes I am classified as a beast."

Harry opened and closed his mouth in outrage, but he couldn't think of how to put into words just how wrong that was, it should go without saying! A dragon was a beast, as were nifflers and that stupid chicken, but Remus fell into the same ranking as them?!

Remus was touched by Harry's reaction, but hoping to get him to move past this he explained, "My parents took me down there and had me registered after I was bitten, though thankfully the Ministry never compared that list with any of Hogwarts students, or staff for that matter or I could have gotten into a lot of trouble."

"Why would your parents do that?" Harry demanded, his face still simmering with rage. "It clearly wouldn't do you any good."

"It's the law," he quietly reminded, clearly he was only making this worse, and the faces of stone from his friends showed he wouldn't be getting any help in playing this off. "My father was a prominent man in this department, what happened to me became well known, couldn't hardly keep it hidden." The bitterness tinging his voice finally made Harry realize lingering on this was helping nothing.

The man with the fire breathing chicken stepped out here, along with the exchange of more memos coming and going, before they moved down to Level Three, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee.

"I always loved the phrasing of that," Remus muttered to himself, "Muggle Worthy Excuse Committee, they couldn't come up with a better title?"

Sirius snorted quietly just because he agreed, but he was still focused on going to the floor above and giving those who had labeled his friend like that a good bat-bogey hex for starters.

Nearly everyone left on this lift, leaving only three left to reach Level Two.

"It didn't mention the office you're in this whole time," Harry noted to his mother

"It doesn't say every single one of them," Lily agreed. "As of now I'm still in the Wizengamot Administration Services, which is a lot of clerical work and learning the laws I'm hoping to one day help with. I'm working my way up to the Wizengamot Services."

For just a moment Harry was entirely sure by that steely glint in her eyes his mother could be a Minister for Magic if she put her mind to it, but then he realized what age she was and he'd never see her any older, and so quickly flipped back to reading.

Arthur stepped off with Harry, telling that his office was at the far end of this place.

"You two work on the same floor?" James asked in surprise.

"I've seen him in passing," Lily agreed, "but I've never stopped to have a chat with him. I just know our offices aren't anywhere near each other, I've certainly never visited it."

They began passing through winding corridors with an occasional window showing bright sunlight outside, which prompted Harry to ask that they were still underground.

Mr. Weasley agreed those were enchanted by the Magical Maintenance. Last time they'd wanted a raise they'd decided to make it hurricane weather for two months.

"Oh that's mature," Remus snorted.

"What I would have done," Sirius agreed with a smirk, except maybe hurricanes were too kind, tornados had much more of an impact.

They turned a corner, walked through a pair of heavy oak doors and emerged in a cluttered open area divided into cubicles, which was buzzing with talk and laughter. Memos were zooming in and out of cubicles like miniature rockets. A lopsided sign on the nearest cubicle read: Auror Headquarters.

Harry felt a thrill shoot through him as he found this place. Finally something good he could focus on, he felt no ill will towards this office.

Harry looked surreptitiously through the doorways as they passed.

James couldn't help a little intrigue himself. He had entertained the idea through most of his years at Hogwarts, but honestly after realizing what the job had done to Moody, even the fake one but honestly such a good act alike the point still stood, he was now considering some other options. It didn't stop him from listening intently to what he'd been thinking of himself doing.

The Aurors had covered their cubicle walls with everything from pictures of wanted wizards and photographs of their families, to posters of their favourite Quidditch teams and articles from the Daily Prophet. A scarlet-robed man with a ponytail longer than Bill's was sitting with his boots up on his desk, dictating a report to his quill. A little further along, a witch with a patch over one eye was talking over the top of her cubicle wall to Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Oh joy, so where am I this morning? I here Greece is lovely this time of-" he cut himself off and ducked just in time to stop Moony smacking him again.

Kingsley greeted Weasley in an indifferent tone as he called he'd like a word.

Arthur agreed if it was only for a moment, speaking as if to a passing person more than anything, while Harry tried to at least say hello to Kingsley before Mr. Weasley stepped on his foot.

"Oh come on Harry, you were even warned why it's best these two in particular not go shouting about being in touch with Voldemort," Sirius scolded for that lapse in his paying attention. "Surely you'd have guessed it wasn't a good idea for them to even pretend to know each other on anymore than a passing name."

"It caught me off guard," Harry defended, even while he shrugged in agreement he should have been paying more attention.

They followed Kingsley along the row and into the very last cubicle. Harry received a slight shock; blinking down at him from every direction was Sirius's face.

"That sounds like a dream come true for Kingsley, getting to see me from all sides," Sirius forced a grin that looked almost painful, while James was considering getting up and sitting on him soon to try and force that joke to end.

Kingsley thrust some paperwork in Arthur's hands, saying he needed every bit of information possible on flying vehicles as they were now going under the assumption Black could be using his flying motorcycle.

Sirius' face suddenly puckered with a concern he hadn't had to feel since the first chapter, "what did Hagrid do with my bike?"

"Sirius Onion Black," Remus scolded at once, "I don't find that a top priority."

"Shut it you," Sirius snipped at him. "My real middle name is stupid enough, why did you ever think that was funny?"

"Same reason you seem to think mocking my middle name is," he shrugged without remorse.

Harry interrupted the two with what little he could offer, "as far as I know, err, well I'm sure someone still has it. Maybe Hagrid kept it all this time." There was something stirring in him he didn't quite like about that answer, though he had no idea why that would give him a bad memory.

Sirius did not look too happy about the idea, but as the others considered Sirius getting that monstrosity back at a time like this the worst idea possible, were relieved when Harry changed the subject.

Kingsley tipped Harry an enormous wink and added, in a whisper to be sure to pass along the magazine, he'd find something interesting it it.

"Kingsley's clearly a master of subtlety," James rolled his eyes.

"About as much as you are," Lily agreed.

Then back in normal tones that Weasley needed to be quick about this report, last time their investigation had been put on hold for a month because of that delay over the firelegs report.

"Wonder if he did that on purpose," Remus did get an amused smirk out of that, while James mouthed the word firelegs to himself in confusion.

Mr. Weasley coolly responded if anyone had actually read the report, they'd know the term was firearms.

"I'd be offended too," Lily agreed while she tried to hide her own smile as James realized what had really been meant.

Then he said it would have to wait at least a bit, he was very busy, then added in softer tones that if Kingsley could get off by seven, Molly would be making meatballs.

Sirius felt his stomach grumble, which he for once ignored. He couldn't care less about food right now when he needed to know how the rest of Harry's life was going to pan out in him going back to school or not.

He beckoned to Harry then and escorted him back away into a dimly lit hallway that ended with two doors, one a broom cupboard, and something resembling an office that was slightly smaller with two desks cramped inside, a tattered plaque announcing this as the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office.

Lily's eyes flipped wide in surprise as she yelped, "well it's no wonder I've never found the place! Just what's this, having his whole office in that dingy little corner?"

"Didn't you say it was one of the most popular offices that people requested information from," Harry agreed as he felt the offense for Arthur rearing up in him. "Why would they have the place so dismal?"

"Disrespect," Sirius sniffed in disgust. "The Minister would never want to admit how important an office about Muggle Artefacts could be."

"Not all Ministers are like that surely," Harry persisted, though he wouldn't feel any better if he was told this was a recent downgrade.

"Honestly Harry I wish I knew more," Lily's face stayed the same red in frustration, "but I've no idea, never had to find the place myself as I've always sent an owl along."

Harry still sincerely hoped that Arthur did get what he deserved at some point. Surely the place could be magically expanded and he just liked the small space?

Still, what little space there was had been done up in Arthur's style. He had overflowing cabinets and baskets of paperwork, and the wall space was all done up with muggle things.

James suddenly felt a whim to go and have Arthur explain those things to him, as he hadn't recognized much of it. He always enjoyed Lily and Sirius telling him about this stuff, but he still had a want to try and make a connection to the Weasley's at least for Harry's sake regarding Ron, even if he wouldn't feel as prone to coming over to the house, he could draw the line at having to be on just passing name mentioning terms with Molly.

Sitting on Arthur's desk was more paperwork, a toaster hiccuping, and a picture of all the Weasleys minus Percy.

They all gave a nasty wince for that reminder, even managing to block out Harry's inquiries of the intricacies of Magic that knew what went on outside it's painting like that.

Arthur apologized for their not being a window in here, and offered Harry to sit at Perkins desk, he didn't seem to be in yet. Harry had to squeeze himself into the space to reach the chair while he watched Mr. Weasley start rifling through the papers Kingsley had handed him, extracting one called The Quibbler.

Harry felt an upsurge of affection go off in him at that particular magazine, but one quick look around and he realized it didn't mean anything to anyone in here. It did manage to make them all the more curious what this could have to do with Sirius, so he read eagerly.

He muttered to himself that yes indeed, Sirius would get a kick out of this, then cut off in surprise what that was?

"Oh come on," Sirius pouted, "I wanted to know about that thing. Don't suppose you know what The Quibbler's usual articles are Harry?" He persisted.

"No," Harry sighed with regret, "but I'm hoping I'm there when it gets passed along so I can find out too." There really was something very dear to him attached to all this.

A memo had zoomed down onto Arthur's desk and he turned attention to that instead, finding it containing information about the third regurgitating public toilet, this time located in Bethnal Green.

"Well I definitely can't say Arthur doesn't get up to some interesting things," Sirius said without a trace of sarcasm. He really wanted to go meet him as well, this was just sounding more fascinating by the minute.

Harry asked what that was about, and Mr. Weasley explained it was some Muggle baiters who'd been doing this in other towns as well. Instead of flushing the contents of the porcelain, it all came shooting up nonstop, completely confusing the pumbles who arrived to help of course.

"What's a pumble? And what's it have to do with a toilet?" James couldn't stop himself from asking now.

"I think he meant plumber, and they use tools to fix them when they get a leak, instead of us just using a charm," Sirius shrugged.

"I feel like a plumber would have an issue with this one though," Remus chuckled.

Harry corrected the term was plumbers, which Arthur quickly agreed with and said he hoped someone caught them at it soon.

Harry asked if it would be the Aurors who did that, and Arthur corrected this was too low level for them, no it would be the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, cutting himself off to greet Perkins.

Harry felt a sudden bad feeling at Perkins arrival, and rather than dwelling on that for a moment he turned curiously to ask, "so what's the difference?"

"An Auror goes after, well people like me at that time I suppose," Sirius shrugged, ignoring the wince this caused in everyone else. "Big time criminals who really are a top priority to get put away. The Magical Law Enforcement Patrol deals with more trivial things, hunting down little complaints and mostly getting their exercise in by making house calls and such.

"Aurors have to start in there and work up through some really hard training and a ton of recommendations," James agreed with a suffering look. "It's why it takes so long to make it to Auror status, not many have the patience to work through all that."

Harry was still fascinated by the whole thing, but knew he couldn't play off this moment of dread forever.

A stooped, timid-looking old wizard with fluffy white hair had just entered the room, panting.

"What's got him in such a bother?" Remus stiffened in concern, nothing could have happened to Percy to cause this, right?

He gasped in relief at finding Arthur, spluttering on about how he'd sent an owl but obviously that had been missed!

"Bet that gave us a bleeding heart attack," Sirius muttered as he kept watching the book for the bomb.

It was an urgent message-

Arthur cut off he knew about the regurgitating toilet.

"I feel like that's not entirely 'urgent'," Lily muttered with unease.

Perkins corrected this was about Potter's hearing!

Harry's voice was already pitching in concern as he realized he was fixing to go running through a living nightmare.

they've changed the time and venue - it starts right now in Courtroom Ten!

Sirius said something that Harry guessed he must have been learned from Kreacher, but he also didn't need much of a clarification for what it meant. He could already feel that nasty kick to his gut telling him he hadn't read wrong, and in fact should be preparing himself for a hard run that would be more adrenaline inducing than his sprint down to the lake last year.

Arthur at first didn't understand why they would be in the old- but then he shouted Merlin's beard and began sprinting out of sight, Harry hot on his heels.

Lily was too busy with her mouth hanging open to question why those courtrooms would be considered old? She'd press in on such Ministry changes later when she better understood what was being done to her son now?!

Shouting about how they should have been there five minutes ago!

"Th-they changed, how could they change the time and place without-" Remus was trying to stutter out a question, but Harry wasn't waiting for anyone to say anything, he was speed reading as if that would somehow make what they were hearing more understandable, but it was only confusing them all more.

They flew back through the corridors to several confused looks, and only came to a skidding halt back in front of the lifts where Mr. Weasley began pummeling the button to get them back an elevator.

'There must be a quicker way to get around that place,' James thought wildly to himself as he kept watching Harry look ready to pass out from stress any moment, was he even taking breaths?

All while muttering to himself that those courtrooms hadn't been used in years, what was going on, unless it was-

They were interrupted by the lift finally arriving, the only man being in there Bode who Arthur greeted distractedly and still smashing the button for it to close.

Lily was in such a tense and uneasy mood, she knew she'd have taken someone's head off by that point if she kept being stared at like that.

Every time it opened back up Arthur released a swear word and kept smashing on the button until finally it released on Level Nine, Department of Mysteries, with no add ons of what that could mean.

Harry gave such a gasp his jaw was left shaking slightly as he recoiled into the cushions, but he point blank refused to understand what that burning feeling rising in him was, too utterly focused on this courtroom and all it could mean for him, even if it didn't take much digging on his part to know just how untrue that was. There was something about this place, had been for ages, that had him leaning just that bit closer to Sirius now more than ever.

It opened onto a long black corridor that only seemed to have one door at the end, but as they went sprinting towards it, Harry expecting to go straight through, Arthur grabbed Harry's sleeve and jerked him down a side passage, nearly tumbling down the stairs until they reached a set of doors and found ten. Harry had the oppressed feeling of being back in Snape's dungeons the place was so dark and musty with only torches to light their way.

Sirius felt a wild noise escaping him that could have been a laugh, some irony somewhere in there of how much he hated Snape and those dungeons now being compared to something he could already feel a pulsing loathsome for of this place, and what he could already scent as a set up.

Mr. Weasley collapsed against the wall beside the door and ordered Harry to get in there, who tried to protest wasn't Arthur coming along?

He said he wasn't allowed, and wished Harry good luck. Harry's heart felt like it was going to hammer out of his chest as he pushed the door open.

Harry just sat there, gaping down at the pages below him while the others began furiously around him.

"Are you kidding me!" Lily thundered out first. "They really switched the times on you, for what? To make you look bad and show up late? Has someone really gone so petty they just wanted to trip you up?"

"I know you're not that naïve Lily," James had his eyes narrowed with absolute distaste at the book as he spoke calculatingly. "This isn't just some stupid prank someone was doing to him to make him look bad. No, this was a real attempt to undermine him, really strive home what those papers have been saying about him to someone."

"I know," Lily muttered in a quiet voice, she just didn't want to believe someone would do that to her baby, especially not the place she worked for.

Remus had several things he'd like to say, none of them in any way nice as he tried to picture the person responsible for doing this to Harry, but the only way to get that visual was by asking Harry, "you going to keep going? I'm ready for this nightmare to be over and you to walk back out of there giving them all the bird."

"Chapter was over," Harry muttered, though his fingers remained tensed around the books bindings, his eyes still unfocused with fear.

Sirius had to reach forward and tug hard to get it out of his grip, and only then did he look around at him and they completely misunderstood the shadow of fear that was still gripping him as he looked at Sirius passing the book to Remus for his turn.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Ootp #HP #Marauders #Jilly #James Potter #remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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victoriareyloficlists · 3 years

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4 February 2021 Additions to Reylo Holidays

These fics have been added to the Holiday list located here.

Christmas

Fight, Flight, or F____ by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets a dildo advent calendar for office secret santa. Ben is absolutely panicking, his chance with the cute girl is absolutely toast. Poe would be mad that Ben took the wrong wrapped gift from the counter this morning but he can always buy Finn a new one and this is hilarious.) The Sweater Curse in Reverse by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are roommates. He stresses a bit when Rey starts acting strange, she gives him intense looks while she's crocheting at night and gives him lingering hugs when she comes home to dinner made. Ben fears the worst but soon finds out his roommate is up to something.) Sugar On My Tongue by allstoriesintheend (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: AU where Rey is a florist in a small town and Ben owns a bakery in the same town. They always work together for special occasions, especially weddings. Everyone in town knows they’re in love but them.) Home for the Holidays by LarirenShadow (AO3 2016 Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren, in a moment of weakness, tells his mother he'll be home for Christmas and will bring his girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have one. Enter Rey, his grad assistant. He makes a deal with her so she'll be his girlfriend for the trip home.) Brand New Bag by DhampirsDrinkEspresso (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey doesn't get along with her co-worker Ben...a co-worker who is almost Rey's ideal man and also happens to be the son of her matchmaking boss. When Rey needs help with a children's Christmas party, Ben is sent to save the day-whether he and Rey like it or not.) christmas in the city. by pyroallerdyce (AO3 2020 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben meets Rey in a grocery store, offers to give her a ride home, and they discover they live on the same floor in the same building. They find out they have other things in common too, and maybe there is a future between the two of them.) A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along... Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult.) Let's Meet Under the Mistletoe by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson and Ben Solo do not get along. Their first meeting was less than impressive. A change in circumstances forces Rey and Ben to work together to stage a huge black-tie Christmas party in a ridiculously short period of time. Only time will tell if they can stand each other long enough to pull it off or if the whole thing will crash and burn.) Silent Night by avidvampirehunter (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try. When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.) Merry (Fuzzy) and Bright by JaneNightwork (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, 25 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: One night Ben finds a dog abandoned on his doorstep. She's cold, scared, and pregnant. Ben takes her to a nearby vet clinic and meets the beautiful veterinarian Rey, who promises to help him be the best caregiver the dog and her puppies could ask for. Throughout the holiday season Ben and Rey fall in love with the puppies and, of course, each other.) daylight by sparklylulz (sparklyulz) (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Coffee shop employee Rey has a run in with one of the difficult professors. Thus starts a very turbulent friendship until Ben needs a fake date to go with him to see his parents, the first time he's seen his parents in a while.) The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest) (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 47 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options. That option is the mysterious Banker Ben Solo.) Something About November Chapter 18 by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Ben's adopted daughter finds a box of love letters he wrote and never sent, she decides she wants him happy for Christmas. With help from her Aunt Gwen, she sends her the letters.) The Fake Boyfriend Problem by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rose accidently tells her parents her roommate Rey was bringing her boyfriend for Christmas, instead of telling them she was bringing her own boyfriend Finn, the girls run into an interesting problem.) How to Keep Christmas by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, 26 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben have had feelings for each other since she began teaching at Chandrila Elementary School earlier that year, but neither knows their affection is mutual. Rey plans to use the the Christmas season––her favorite time of year––as an excuse to spend more time with Ben, and to find a way to tell him how she feels. But can she convince the Grinch-ish Ben to enjoy Christmas with her? Equally important: will her friends Finn, Poe, and Rose be able to stop themselves from matchmaking and meddling and general mischief?) Twas the night before Sithmas... by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is alone...and he likes it that way. What more does he need on Christmas eve? He has his whiskey and his bitterness to keep him warm. But Christmas magic can do wonderful things, and a visit from a mystical being throws Ben into a world very different from the one he knew. A world were he is married to the love of his life, he is close to his family and a little boy with dark eyes calls him Daddy. But is it all a dream? Or will Ben really get everything he has ever wanted this Christmas?) Blame it on the Mistletoe by deedreamer, HopelesslyReylo (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Wilson doesn’t necessarily hate Christmas, it’s just that she’s never really enjoyed it. It’s too over the top, too full of the same repetitive music and consumerism. That’s not to say she doesn’t enjoy some things about the holiday... So when her new boss —and secret crush— Ben Solo catches her singing in her office, she lies to avoid looking like a grinch. Now she’s agreed to spend the holiday with him and his over-the-top Christmas fanatic family.) Crash my Bandicoot by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has lived next door to Rey for ten years now, and he’s been in love with her for most of them. A Christmas break with no one but themselves for company leaves a lot of time for Crash Bandicoot sessions... among other things.) Valentine’s Day

Love's Mystery by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020 Rated G Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo only needs one lady in his life; his daughter, Hope. So he is surprised to find himself intrigued by the masked woman who just spilled a drink down the front of his costume. Maybe this year the company Valentine's day dance won't be so boring after all? And what happens when he has to leave suddenly.....) No Chance, No Way by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Just as Rey's decided to give up on love, she gets partnered to co-write Valentine's themed articles with the office grump, who... maybe isn't such a grump.) Valentine's Day by PropertyOfThaJoker (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The cat immediately came to Rey, who immediately held it. “He can’t be more than five weeks old, Ben. He’s a baby. It’s cold out here – he’ll freeze to death. We have to take him home.”) How Much Can Kylo Ren Endure This Christmas by reylology (AO3 2017 Rated M Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: As the CEO of the number one commercial enterprise in New York City, Kylo Ren would think that bringing home a girl for his parents to meet should be the least of his concerns. But when a phone call with his mother takes an absurd, aggravating turn, he finds himself shoved headfirst into a lie. Desperate to prove his parents wrong, Kylo would do anything in order to see the shocked looks on their faces. Even if it means seeking help from the random girl that had just walked into his office for a job interview.) The Best Medicine by Cecilia1204 (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Being stuck in hospital for Christmas was enough to make Ben Solo feel really down in the dumps. That is, until he meets two angels in the form of Rey and her amazing cat.) Halloween

Closet Encounters Of The Thirsty Kind by ReyloBrit (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey dislikes Ben. Ben dislikes Rey. Funny, then, that people keep thinking they've come to this party together, and unfortunate that when cops raid the party, there's only one place to hide. And it's such a cramped and confined place too.) Anything to Win by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey hates losing. She hates losing almost more than she loves winning. Which is why she's in the ridiculous position of asking Kylo Ren, the very person who keeps beating her at the singles costume contest, to team up with her to dominate the couples contest and trounce Phasma and Hux once and for all. Working with Kylo is a necessary evil, but really, she'd do anything to win. Anything! Unless... it's falling in love.) Thanksgiving

Trouble for Thanksgiving by Biekewieke (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 40 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Kenobi's temporary work visa is about to expire. She needs her boss' signature on her renewal application to get the extension she desperately wants and needs. Only her boss, the infamous Ben Solo, is an asshole. He's notoriously difficult and she knows this firsthand. Nevertheless, she needs his signature on those papers if she wants to avoid being deported by the end of the year... So when Rey tells her about her looming deportation, he finds a way to bend the situation to suit his own needs. Except, for the first time in his adult life, things don't go exactly as planned when he takes her home for the holidays...) I Wanna Hold Your Hand by SageMcMae (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: To escape Thanksgiving dinner with his mother, author Ben Solo travels to Verona, and hides away in his publisher’s villa. While wandering the city, he discovers Casa di Giulietta and the statue contained within. Some believe touching her will bring you luck in love. Others believe that when her soulmate touches her, she will come to life. Ben doesn’t believe in any of it. Until an accidental brush of his hand results in an empty statue podium and him catching a very confused, very irritated woman in his arms.)

#reylo #reylo fanfic

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

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Shrinking Violet 1.0

Going through old drafts and discovered my original idea for this g/t oneshot here. It refused to be written and since I was on a time-crunch, I went with the final result, but I frankly enjoy this version better.

Virgil is a reclusive Giant who keeps to himself in the Woods. Very grouchy, independent. One day he stumbles into a human mage named Patton who is collecting materials for his spells. He expects Patton to run in fear or attack him, but instead he's friendly.

Virgil is a major Grump anyway, despite helping Patton gather a material. Patton and Virgil begin meeting in the Woods, just to talk. Patton loved getting swung about by Virgil or carried on his shoulders. Patton had to always crane his neck to make eye contact with the Giant.

One day, Virgil doesn't go to their meeting spot. Patton calls his name, but he doesnt come. He doesn't contact Virge with the special necklace he made either. Patton keeps coming back, but the Giant is no longer there. Patton is worried and goes deeper in the forest than he usually does. He runs into trouble with some wolves (?) where Virgil jumps in and protects him.

Virgil then goes on a rant about how incredibly stupid Patton is, but Patton is too distracted by the fact that he doesn't have to crane his neck quite as far as usual.

"Virgil, did you shrink?"

"..."

Apparently there is a hereditary curse rampant among Giants called the Shrinking Curse. Rumored to have been cast by a powerful mage in revenge for a dispute long since forgotten. It's why Virgil lives alone. It started affecting him a way younger age than most Giants. Basically he will keep shrinking and shrinking, until he's microscopic. No one really knows what happens after that--usually people die before that stage.

Patton declares he's gonna help Virgil, despite the Giant insisting there's no way to cure it. Virgil had started hiding from Patton after getting scared realizing how close he'd grown to Patton and afraid of the other's reaction (spoiler alert Patton still loves him anyway).

They resume their meeting spot routine as Patton sets to work researching. The unfortunate thing is that Giants generally keep to themselves and seldom interact with humans and other species. Thus there's few books on Giants to begin with. Virgil still spins Patton around, but it gradually becomes harder and harder.

Patton grows more worried as Virgil is no longer taller than the trees and can't fight off wolves with the flick of his finger. Virgil insists he's okay, he's alright. One day, Patton's necklace lights up.

"Virgil, are you alright?!"

"N-no."

Patton finds Virgil slumped against a tree, shivering and injured. Patton nearly cries when he realizes he can easily carry Virgil in his arms. With Virgil semi-coherent it becomes easily apparent how small Virgil has become. He is only shorter than Patton by an inch or two, but still! Nothing compared to his towering height as a giant.

Patton takes Virgil back to his home. He nurses Virgil back to health and suggests the shrunken giant should move in with him. This sparks an argument with Virgil stomping back into the woods. A few days later Virgil shows up at the door reluctantly.

Patton and Virgil visit the human city when Virgil is still about human size, and Virgil marvels a bit.

Patton starts asking around for other wizards, asking if they have any information on the Shrinking Curse. Meanwhile Virgil gets good at climbing, still brushing off most help as he desperately clings onto any piece of autonomy he can. Virgil hates being carried so Patton does his best to remember that.

One day, he gets mistaken for a dwarf and angrily chews that person out. That person, upon hearing his true origins as a Giant doesn't laugh. Instead they say they know a Wizard who can help. The only thing is, he lives in the Capitol which is a long day's journey from where they are on outskirts of the Kingdom. Patton is up for it, although Virgil is terrified of all the dangers they could face--dangers he can no longer protect Patton from.

They embark on the Journey as Virgil's condition worsens. He's declining at a more rapid rate. Patton does whatever he can to get to the Capitol the quickest, even if it's a hefty sum. Virgil finds this out and chastises him for spending so much, insisting he's not worth it but Patton insists he is.

By the time they reach the Wizard, Virgil is small enough to fit inside Patton's cloak pocket.

Patton visits the Wizard Logan and asks about his rumored hand in reversing the curse. Logan assumes Patton is the shrunken giant.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken," Patton draws a breath in, "I'm not here on my behalf, but on my bestest friend in the whole wide world."

"Where is he? I cannot help if he is a great distance away--"

Patton pulls Virgil out his pocket. Virgil who is a whole five inches tall and terrified. He wonders how Patton could be so brave if he looked as imposing as Logan. Logan whose eyes widen in shock. Who has never seen a giant shrink this small before. He goes on an excited rant, before Virgil yells at him to quit it, asking if he can just get on with reversing the spell and bring him back to his original height.

Logan looks saddened, "I'm afraid you're mistaken, I know how rumors tend to circle but, I myself cannot reverse the spell in its' entirety. I can only "freeze" it so to speak. I can stop it from progressing any further."

"I'm--I'm stuck this way?"

"Yes, but it'd keep the curse from progressing and killing you." Poor Virgil has a bit of a mental breakdown from this. He does accept Logan's help. But he's unusually quiet and sullen. Depressed, doesn't want to eat. Patton tries having a talk with him.

"Virgil, I understand--"

"No you don't! You don't understand what it's--it's like! To go from the biggest thing to the smallest thing in the world. If a normal giant came across me, I'd be nothing but a puny ant to them. They could easily squish me with their foot without even knowing!"

Virgil accuses Patton of seeing him as a pet, continuing to say awful things, because the only weapon he has are words. He's crying and screaming, wanting Patton to yell back--to finally squeeze Virgil until he can no longer breathe.

"Why aren't you doing something? Why--why do you care about me?!"

Patton explains he loves Virgil regardless of his stature. Virgil cries, finally acquiescing to being in Patton's embrace for more than just practical use. As the tale draws to a close, Virgil starts growing again.

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #kat writes #i wish i could properly write this #but have this for now

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anthonyed · 4 years

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color me you (stevetony college! au inspired by this scene from skam france) also on Ao3 rated M for sexual content

“This is stupid,” Tony sighs, pain brush dropping with a plop into the paint can. Dark blue mixing with bright yellow, Tony couldn’t give a fuck about them.

“Speak for yourself. Personally, I find this very soothing,” Clint shrugs, swirling white into pink and marvelling at the pastel.

Rhodey aims a kick at his side, ignoring Clint’s protest to address Tony, “What’s going on?” He asks.

Tony gives an abortive shrug, “Nothing, I just feel,” he pauses to pull in a breath and exhales it out loud, “You guys aren’t even responsible for this,” he waves at the pathetic mural that needs repainting.

Clint stands up from his crouching, going to paint a stroke of pastel pink over the faded black ink of ‘Work Hard Study Smart’. All three of them scrunch their noses in distaste.

“Lighter,” Clint decides.

“We told you we don’t mind,” Rhodey tells Tony.

“I’m having all the fun,” Clint dribbles more white, beaming up at them.

Tony rolls his eyes. “That’s not what I meant -,”

“What is it then?”

Tony tries to wave it off, but Rhodey’s stare means business so he caves in and admits, “Rogers’ supposed to do this.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Nat asks from her seat at the back of the room. She’s too cool to paint is her excuse.

Tony turns from her to find two more pairs of eyes on him. He shrugs, picking up his own paint brush, wishing they’d accept that for an answer and drop the topic. But they’re still looking when he glances up from the brush so he sighs, shrugging again.

It’s not like they don’t know the rest. He’s told them as much.

“We’re not talking,” he says.

“Talking, face to face or -,”

“Talking, in any way,” Tony tells Clint who purses his lips thoughtfully and says, “But those notes…,”

“He gives you notes?” Nat chirps in, having moved in closer in the span of last minute. Tony scowls at her.

“He draws comics on post-its and gives them to Tony,” Rhodey supplies.

“Tony’s a rat and Rogers’ a bunny. Real cute,” Clint grins, “Show her, Tones.”

Tony shuts him up with a glare but Natasha’s already holding out a hand, carefully plucked brow raised in challenge.

Giving up, Tony pulls out the folded collection of the longer sticky sticky-notes from his back pocket. “It's a mouse. Not a rat.”

He watches Natasha read through them, her face remaining stoic throughout until the end when she holds them out for his taking and remarks, “Cute.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles, pocketing them back.

“And you carry them with you all the time?”

“I thought you have an important assignment?” He scowls at her.

She levels him with her infamous no-shit stare. “Why are you not talking to him?”

Tony sees Rhodey and Clint share a look before busying themselves with the paints. He disregards them for Nat and answers her. After all, she’s the only one who’s yet to know about last weekend.

“He urm. He got back with his girlfriend.”

“He told you?”

“I saw him. They were kissing at Sharon’s party.”

“I thought you said they broke up?”

“That’s what he told me!” Tony loses his cool for a second, realises it and recollects himself. But Natasha’s face says it’s too late, she’s computed his reaction already.

“Did you ask him about it?”

“No. I told him to fuck off,” Tony grumps, scuffing the floor with his sneaker.

Natasha hums, leaning back against the desk, a pinched expression on her face. “But he still sends you those notes.”

“Slips ‘em in when I’m not looking.” Tony shakes his head, “Maybe he just wanted an out from this stupid project,” he sighs heavily, attempting a light hearted comment as he smirks at Nat.

But Natasha’s not listening, lost in her own thoughts which Tony leaves her to. He’s got tons of work to do anyway. Like a wall to paint.

They’re collectively scolding Clint for getting the pink to white ratio wrong when Natasha speaks again.

“Text him,” she says.

Rhodey and Tony fall silent, looking at each other and at Clint as well.

“What?” Tony laughs nervously. “I’m not doing that.”

“Gonna play collector to his comic till you die then?”

Tony bristles.

“Geez, Nat. No need to be so morbid all the time.”

She silences him with a stare, “Send him a text. Tell him, he either chooses you or he stops with those notes.”

Tony blinks, fingers immediately reaching for his back pocket but stops when Natasha’s gaze falls on them. She gives him a pointed look. “It’s not fair of him to lead you on.”

“He’s not leading me on,” Tony mumbles..

“Are you sure about that?” Rhodey bumps his shoulder lightly. An encouraging smile plays along his lips. Tony glances at Clint and sees the same look on his face.

“So, what do I write exactly,” he sighs, pulling out his phone.

Date me or quit sending those notes glares at him as he hesitates. “Do I add an angry emoji?” He looks up at the mastermind behind it; Nat.

“Are you five?” Clint cringes. Natasha tips her head in his direction, wordlessly executing what he said.

“Just send it,” Rhodey urges. Hunched next to Tony on top of a desk they share while Nat and Clint share another, paint drying on his brush’s bristle.

Tony taps the blue button. “There,” he announces. “I did it.”

Clint raises a hand for high-five which he meets weakly. Rhodey tousles his hair while Natasha silently glares at the phone until it beeps just a few seconds after he sent his text.

Tony stares at his phone and then looks at her.

“What? You need me to tell you how to open the text now?” She snipes at him.

“Dude, what does it say?” Clint bumps into his side, buzzing with excitement. Natasha rolls her eyes at him.

Tony glances at Rhodey and taps on the message at his silent nod. He’s not usually like this, but apparently, it’s what Steve Rogers has made of him.

“He says he wants to talk.” He reads the reply out loud. Another beep comes through; “He asks if I’m free.”

Clint begins to coo but a kick to his shin from Nat shuts him up.

“What’re you gonna say?” She asks.

Tony looks at her, confused. He was, after all, under the impression that she was dictating him throughout this process. But she raises her brows at him, following her question.

“Tell him you’re busy,” Rhodey quips helpfully.

Tony looks at him and thinks about it. “I’m gonna say I’m busy with this shitty mural he’d abandoned,” he decides.

He looks over at Nat who simply shrugs; your text, your words. He looks at Clint who tells him seriously, “No emoji please.”

Tony steps on his foot the moment he sends the text.

“Ow!”

This time, no reply comes.

Ten seconds.

A minute.

Five minutes.

“You think green will work?” Clint asks Rhodey who looks relieved to knuckle his shoulder and start a banter about Clint’s artistic skills with him.

“Forget about it.” Natasha tells Tony in the hum of the boys’ raising voice. “Take me for ice cream after this. I want mango and coffee.”

Tony blinks and blinks before he smiles up at her. “Two flavours that don’t mix,” he comments.

“Fuck you. Don’t judge,” Nat flicks at his nose, pecking his cheek before she returns to her seat at the back of the classroom.

Seven minutes.

“I want ice cream too!” Clint wines when Tony tells him about their plan.

Nine minutes.

“The football team requested to use the court for training this week,” Rhodey mentions conversationally, “I’m gonna tell them no.”

Tony’s hand pauses in its repetitive stroke against the wall. He gawks at his best friend, “You can’t do that.”

Rhodey shrugs, dipping his brush in the paint can. “You’ll hear about my power once the complaints start pouring in.” He tosses a devilish smile over his shoulder.

Tony shakes his head. Couldn’t help but snort at him. “Don’t,” he says. “He’s not even in the team.”

“His best friend is.”

“Yeah, but Barnes doesn’t deserve it.” Tony sighs, bending over to dip his own brush. “It’s not worth it,” he tells Rhodey. “Trust me,” he adds when Rhodey looks unconvinced.

10 minutes

“I can send him dead roaches.” Clint offers good naturedly.

“I’ll tell him it’s you and he’ll shove them down your throat,” Tony grunts at him. “Seriously. Stop.”

Clint pokes his tongue out at him in retaliation. Tony wonders who gave this guy permission to accuse other people of being five years old. He doesn’t vocalize it, but he sure does poke at Clint’s side just when he’s getting the straightest damned stroke of paint. The line wiggles out of track.

“Fuuuck! Tony you, fucking bastard!” Clint lunges for him, but Tony neatly steps aside, letting him catch the air.

A big grin breaks across his face at Clint’s second attempt, but before his third, someone knocks on the door.

All of them pause to look in its direction.

“Who is it?” Clint asks them dumbly. Rhodey rolls his eyes at him and Tony’s distracted by the beeping from his phone.

He pulls it out. Reads the text, looks up at his friends, reads a few times over just to be sure and his palms begin to get clammy.

“It’s Steve.” He tells them.

Clint’s jaw falls and so does Rhodey’s. Nat’s hand squeezes his shoulder, shocking him out of his skin. She orders, “Okay boys, time to pack up,” before Tony could express his surprise.

Another set of knocks, three quiet ones followed by a text; “Can I come in?”

“Get out!” Tony whisper-shouts at his friends who’re scrambling for their stuffs. “Through the back door!” he commands when Clint rushes to the front one.

The instant all three of them are huddled at the back door, Tony opens the front one, signalling them to spill out just as Steve steps in.

“Hey,” Steve greets, slightly breathless. He looks like he ran here; windblown hair and flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” Tony answers, taking a step back, making space for him.

Steve gaze stays fixed on Tony, drinking him in even as he shuts the door behind.

For a while, they don’t speak. Simply taking each other in; studying the other’s face and their body, missing the way Steve stands or fidgets because he can never stand still.

Tony blinks, telling himself to not to be so stupid when it comes to Steve Rogers, but fuck. He just cannot do it.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asks, swallowing down the strange lump in his throat. He steps away from Steve, back to the wall, where it still looks as horrible as it did yesterday.

“Looking for you,” Steve says, following him, and he too stands. Staring at the wall, marvelling at its ugliness. “I see you’ve started repainting.”

“Maria’s at my throat,” Tony shrugs. “Don’t think she will hesitate to knock on my apartment door demanding I get it done tonight.”

Steve snorts and when Tony looks, he’s sucking his lower lip in, seemingly thinking over his next words.

When he says, “Wanna Jackson Pollock it?” Tony blinks, confused. “What?”

“Jackson Pollock,” Steve turns to him. His backpack is slung over one shoulder, blonde hair sticking out haphazardly and he looks as breathtaking as he always does to Tony. “Want me to show you?”

“Sure,” Tony answers before he could think.

Steve grins at him, dropping his backpack fluidly onto a clean patch of the floor and taking off his jacket. He’s in a black t-shirt, matching Tony’s in tone and its simplicity.

“You said you wanted to talk,” Tony rasps out, working his throat. He feels slightly light-headed. The last time Steve had taken anything off of himself, they were tangled in a bed, kissing and kissing until the world disappeared around them.

Steve looks up from where he’s bent, picking at one of those brushes Rhodey and Clint had left behind. He's a few inches lowered from Tony’s standing height and when he looks up, his baby blue eyes shine from under his long lashes, stunning. Tony sucks a breath in to steady himself.

“How’s Peggy?” He asks Steve, careful to not let any distaste slip into his tone.

“Why are we talking about Peggy?” Steve stands up, forgoing the brushes to take a step towards Tony.

Tony huffs out a laugh, stepping back. “I don’t know. Maybe because she’s your girlfriend.”

“She’s not,” Steve denies.

“Don’t lie.” Tony snaps at him. “I saw you two kissing at Sharon’s party.”

“We’re over.” Steve takes another step towards Tony. Insistent.

This time Tony doesn’t step back. He simply looks Steve in the eyes and says, “You said the same thing the other day only to shove your tongue down her throat the very next day.”

Steve shakes his head, not moving anymore forward. “Not this time.” He says, “The last time I told you, I don’t know, I thought you looked shocked that I ended it. And Peggy – Peggy knows me too well for a very long time and I just –,” Steve stops, breathing in deep before he lets out, “Ever since I saw you, you’re the only one that matters. I want a relationship with you, Tony. But I thought you weren’t ready to commit -,”

“I am,” Tony cuts him off. Almost shouts it out aloud.

Steve blinks. “Yeah?” he asks, voice so soft like that Saturday afternoon when he’d cradled Tony’s face and told him he’d never felt this way ever before.

“I want to commit. To you,” Tony tells him truthfully.

Steve lashes flutter as if he’s trying hard not to blink. To not miss the way Tony looks right then.

“Me too,” he exhales before scooping Tony up in his arms, mouth meshing together in the warmest, wettest worshipful dance and he swings Tony around in the paint stinking classroom of their college.

Jackson Pollock.

Tony swears he’ll take that name to his grave.

“There,” Steve says, flicking the bristles of a freshly coated paint brush at the wall. Tony looks from the tasteless splatter of black paint to Steve. He’s met by an amused face; the afternoon sun lighting his full-blown grin so beautifully it twists something warm and tight in Tony.

Tony minces on his responding smile, pinches his thigh to stop being so smitten and he asks, “What is this?”

He watches as Steve takes another dip in a different paint can – green – and flicks it at the wall, some droplets overlapping, some not and he turns with that same full grin to Tony.

“Jackson Pollock,” he presents with a single-handed wave at the questionable result, “He usually splatters paints and pours them making a mess and calls it art. I thought we could try that.”

Tony would rather bite his tongue than say no to that face, so he dunks his brush and splatters a good amount of blood red onto the wall.

“Huh,” Steve cocks his head studying it. “You did it wrong.” He informs softly.

Tony gawks at him. “No, I did not. No one can do wrong with this. This is just flicking paint. You have to really suck to fail at it.”

“Yeah,” Steve turns to him, lips wobbling, “I just didn’t want to be the one to say that to you.”

Tony opens his mouth then snaps it shut and glares at the now laughing man. Going for a second dunk, this time, instead of flicking the paint at the wall, he flicks them at Steve. Covering him with dots of red that contrasts beautifully with his light toned-skin.

Steve recovers from his shock quickly, swiping a paint covered fingertip across Tony’s cheek.

It starts like that; paints and laughter all fully clothed. But somewhere along that line, Steve ducks and kisses Tony and the brushes fall.

Next, their t-shirts come off.

Then their pants with belts still looped in their buckles.

And then Steve pushes Tony up the wall, almost all of him now covered in paint and he kisses him, paint covered fingers dancing across warm skin, smudging more and more until only about five percent of Tony’s skin was untainted.

Tony doesn’t hold back either; dragging palms across Steve's face as he cups his cheeks and sucks on his tongue, trails red, blue and white coated fingers down Steve’s chest. Lower and lower, leaving not an inch unpainted.

Then he smacks a hand over Steve’s ass and squeezes as he pulls him closer. His cock throbbing from the friction; wedged between their warm bodies and every time it drags across Steve’s hard erection, he shivers.

“What if somebody walks in?” He pants as Steve takes his and Tony’s cock into his hand and starts a rhythm.

“No one will.” Steve nips under his jaw, teeth dragging down the column of his throat as he breathes; hot and wet across Tony’s skin.

“But -,” Tony pauses, unable to stop the shudder that wrecks down his spine. He clutches onto Steve and clings on. “What if?” He exhales a sigh as Steve swipes a thumb over his wet slit.

“I locked the door when I came in.” Steve kisses his shoulder, opens his mouth and bites; starting gently and he sinks his teeth harder and harder as he goes.

Tony whimpers into his neck, finding purchase in Steve’s naked ass. Now slippery from all the paint and good God, they’re both going to stain like hell after this.

But in that moment, nothing matters except for the way Steve sucks at his skin and marks him as his own. The way he strokes Tony into completion and stops in pursuit of his own just to marvel at the face Tony makes when he comes undone. And to kiss him. And gets distracted in kissing him that Tony bats his hand away and takes his cock into his own hand.

Then it’s all about working Steve until he comes and comes and sighs and smiles into Tony’s shoulder. Until he’s all limp and happy and honest to god, fucking shines when he blinks up at Tony.

And Tony falls in love with him.

As if he hasn’t already.

#stony #stevetony #steve x tony #superhusbands #mine

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recurring-polynya · 4 years

Text

Apparently, if you send someone an ask, but then deactivate your Tumblr, the ask gets deleted. I got this from our old friend k-rukias, and fortunately, I already had it copied over, but anyway, that’s why this isn’t in the standard ask format. Anyway, k-rukias, I hope you’re still out there somewhere and there’s some way you can see this!

k-rukias asked:

you grasp byakuya’s character SO PERFECTLY it always makes me laugh out loud, especially your “Uncle B” stories. i’d love it if you could write more of the kuchiki-abarai family+ichika(maybe throw in some byakuya&toshiro being bffs) I SWEAR YOU DO THE DOMESTIC GENRE SO WELL one can tell you have kiddos 🥺💕

“Give Uncle Byakuya a big hug, Ichika,” Rukia instructed, stifling a yawn. “You’ll see him again on Saturday.” Despite the cheer in her voice, the second Ichika’s tiny face was buried in Byakuya’s chest, she shot her brother a thumbs up and a quizzical look.

Byakuya gave a very firm thumbs up in return. His inconsiderate adjutant was having yet another birthday, and Rukia had asked if they might hold a small family celebration at the manor this year. Byakuya wasn’t sure why. Surely the man would prefer not to see his commanding officer on his own birthday, but Byakuya loved his sister and had made the arrangements she requested.

Ichika finished rubbing her sticky cheeks all over the silk of his kimono. “Here, Uncle B,” she said, handing him a folded piece of paper. “It has to be just like this, okay?”

“Of course, my blossom,” he promised.

“No, it doesn’t,” Rukia mouthed to him behind Ichika’s back. “Okay, kiddo, you ready to go home and see if Daddy missed us?”

“I bet he fell asleep on the couch again!”

“We’ll find out! See you, Saturday, Brother!”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sister,” Byakuya entreated her.

“If you have any questions, please call me,” she begged. “Or send a Hell Butterfly, or however you communicate with people these days.”

“I am very good at Text Messaging,” Byakuya assured her.

Rukia gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look, which he tolerated, because she looked very much like Hisana when she made it.

“I will not have any questions.”

As his beloved sister and niece took their leave, he unfolded Ichika’s piece of paper.

He stared at it.

He had so many questions.

“I do appreciate that you texted before you came over,” Captain Hitsugaya informed him stonily. “But next time, could you text, like, more than a minute before you show up? Maybe wait for a reply?”

“Is now not a good time?” Byakuya asked. “Have I interrupted Squad 10 napping hours?”

“I just… would have picked up first,” Hitsugaya grumbled, trying to keep a stack of paper from falling off his desk. “And it’s always Squad 10 napping hours.”

Currently, Lieutenants Matsumoto and Kuna were sprawled out on the Squad 10 couches, snoring quite loudly.

“I have seen it worse in here,” Byakuya replied. “I am your,” he swallowed, “friend, and I accept your imperfections.”

Hitsugaya glowered at him. “What do you need?”

Byakuya spread Ichika’s instructions out on Hitsugaya’s desk. “Can you tell what this is?”

Hitsugaya’s eyes scanned the drawing: the lumpy creatures that might be rabbits, the crayon scribbles, the puddle of glitter. “Is this a test?”

“If it is, I am in danger of failing it,” Byakuya admitted.

“Ichika made this?” Hitsugaya guessed.

“I imagine the glitter gave it away.”

“Can’t you get Abarai to decipher it for you?”

“I cannot. I am hosting a ‘Surprise Birthday Party’ for him this weekend, and this represents Ichika’s vision of it. I need to identify the items in the picture so I can have them for the party.”

Hitsugaya nodded slowly. “Ah. These are probably balloons, then?”

Byakuya straightened up. “Balloons or lanterns? Or possibly the overhanging blooms of the wisteria?”

“You’re overthinking it. She’s five. It’s balloons. Can you ask Rukia?”

Byakuya’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Ichika’s art style bears a certain… resemblance to her mother’s. I am worried that if I ask for help…” he trailed off.

“Gotcha,” Hitsugaya replied brusquely. He sucked his teeth, and poked a finger at the page. “Well, this is obviously Abarai.”

“Yes, he is always distinguishable by virtue of the fact that she draws him three times as large as the rest of us.”

“Also, he’s the only one with pink hair and stripes,” Hitsugaya replied, raising an eyebrow. “Oversensitive, much?”

“I am only three inches shorter than he,” Byakuya grumbled. “The hair makes him look taller.”

“You are not getting any sympathy here, give it up,” Hitsugaya grumbled back. “He’s got a hat on, I think? A party hat?”

“Yes, I did get that far. We are all wearing hats.”

“Abarai also appears to either be wearing a lei, or he is in bankai.”

“A lei?”

“A flower necklace? We should have some around here, from the last time Matsumoto threw a luau.”

“Ah, thank you,” Byakuya replied. He had not actually expected Hitsugaya to be quite this helpful, and he wondered how he was going to repay the man’s patience in this matter.

“All this stuff on the table is… food, maybe? Gosh, I cannot tell what any of this is. These things look like fish, but they’re brown… taiyaki, maybe?”

“Oh, yes, I had figured that part out as well. Even I know that taiyaki is Abarai’s preferred celebratory food. I actually have a specially made mold--”

“You should make normal ones. Fish ones.”

“He likes Admiral Seaweed taiyaki.”

“It’s the man’s birthday, don’t make him pretend to like your weird taiyaki.”

“They have more crispy bits because of the arms and legs! He told me that specifically, in a complimentary manner!”

Hitsugaya gave him an Extremely Disrespectful Look. Unfortunately, the young man did not have the advantage of resembling Byakuya’s beautiful late wife.

Byakuya was distinctly Not Sure About This, but Hitsugaya had hit a wall and decided they needed to bring in ‘a bigger gun.’

Byakuya hadn’t actually set foot in the Squad 5 offices since Aizen’s departure. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Aizen, generally, but at least the man had a classical taste in decor. Now, his former workspace more closely resembled the interior of an eclectic Living World coffee establishment for beatniks. One wall (but not the others) was painted orange, and covered in strange, stylized art that appeared to have been done by the captain and lieutenant themselves. The rug hurt his eyes. There was a beaded curtain.

“I don’t know why you thought I was going to have any insight on this, Shirou,” Lieutenant Hinamori grumped, squinting at the picture. “Renji’s the only one who can decipher these things.”

Byakuya could not help feeling the tiniest bit smug that he was not the only one who was sassed by his loved ones.

“Well, I figured you’d been to an Abarai birthday party or two,” Hitsugaya excused.

“Yeah,” Hinamori replied. “The grown-up ones. Unless this thing over here is supposed to be a tokkuri, and Captain and Lieutenant Kuchiki are arm wrestling, I can’t help you.” She frowned. “You’ve been to an Abarai birthday party, haven’t you?”

“They’re a little wild for my blood,” Hitsugaya excused. “And nobody likes drinking around their captain. I’ve been, but I usually leave before he starts bench-pressing people.”

“There are captains who come,” Momo pointed out. “And I doubt your presence would slow Matsumoto down, anyway, she’s impervious to that judgemental thing you do with your eyebrows.” She contemplated the paper. “What are these weird marks? Is this a speech bubble?”

“We couldn’t figure those out,” Hitsugaya admitted.

“Lemme take a look,” Captain Hirako, who was unfortunately present, announced. “Sometimes you gotta look at things from a different perspective.”

He turned the paper upside down. He turned it backwards. He turned it right side up, and turned his head sideways.

“I got nothing,” he replied. “Kid’s got good style though. And I think Momo may be onto something, actually. I went to Abarai’s last birthday party, and Kuchiki the Younger beat me at arm wrestling in an embarrassingly short amount of time.”

“It’s your noodle arms, sir,” Hinamori supplied. She stuck out her lower lip. “A different perspective, though, is not a bad idea. You know who you should go ask?”

Byakuya did not want to hear the answer.

“This is dango. This is katsudon. This is shaved ice.”

Byakuya was frantically taking notes.

“How… how can you tell?” Hitsugaya gaped.

Hachigou Nemuri regarded him with her serious, dark green eyes. “I have seen many of Abarai-chan’s drawings.”

Akon made a grumbling noise. “Abarai-chan’s drawing fuuuuu---udged up Nemu’s image recognition subroutines for months. I mean, it was a good thing, in the long run, I ended up implementing an entire art appreciation suite of dynamically created subroutines. It took me forever to figure out why she couldn’t recognize normal drawings of things, though.”

“What are these marks?” Byakuya asked, pointing to the funny squiggles hanging above everyone’s heads.

“Abarai-chan can’t write yet,” Nemu explained.

“Yes, I know that,” Byakuya replied.

“Writing is a form of communication that utilizes mutually understood symbols to convey an idea from one party to another,” Nemu recited. “Abarai-chan does not yet grasp the importance of a common dictionary in the delivery of information.”

Akon scratched his neck. “You’re saying Abarai-chan doesn’t know very many kana, so she just makes them up.”

“Correct,” Nemu agreed.

“Can you read them?” Hitsugaya asked hopefully.

“She does not employ a self-consistent character set.”

Byakuya and Hitsugaya’s eyes darted to Akon, who was unwrapping a piece of nicotine gum.

“She makes it up as she goes along,” he elaborated, cramming the gum in his mouth. “There is no translation.”

“Momo thought it might be a voice bubble, like in a cartoon,” Hitsugaya mused.

“Maybe it’s just a title to the piece,” Byakuya surmised. “Father’s Birthday Celebration’, for example.”

“Abarai-chan calls Lieutenant Abarai ‘Daddy’, not ‘Father’,” Nemu corrected.

“It was an example,” Byakuya bit off testily.

“This could be cherry shaved ice or strawberry shaved ice,” Nemu added hopefully. “Abarai-chan likes strawberry shaved ice, but I prefer cherry.”

“You are not attending this party,” Akon reminded her.

“I just thought Captain Kuchiki might be interested to know,” Nemu sniffed. “In case he felt like buying me a shaved ice. As a thank you for my services.”

Byakuya examined Ichika’s diagram and compared it to the celebratory items currently marring the beauty of his garden. He had the balloons. The hats. The dango. The taiyaki. Both strawberry and cherry shaved ice. “I think I have replicated everything,” he declared. “Have I missed anything?”

“You don’t have rabbit ears,” Hitsugaya replied dryly.

“The rabbit ears are symbolic,” Byakuya explained. “I am wearing the lei. You should put on a lei.”

“I am not putting on a lei. I am not in the picture at all, actually, so I think I should probably scram.”

“You could stay,” Byakuya replied, feeling a little odd about it.

Hitsugaya raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t this a family thing?”

Byakuya blinked. “Family gatherings are large, mandatory, and unpleasant. This is a small party and I am very fond of the Abarai.”

Hitsugaya just stared at him.

Byakuya squirmed. “The fact is… I am not good at things like this.”

“Of course you are. Ichika adores you. Rukia and Renji do, too.”

A normal person would have wrinkled their nose, or sucked their teeth, but Byakuya wasn’t really into making facial expressions, so he just made his usual one and stared off into the middle distance briefly. “Hisana was very good with people. At these times, I often think about how easily she would host a birthday party for a brother-in-law, how natural she would have been with Ichika. She loved children.” He contemplated the drawing. “I am sure she would have interpreted this perfectly, text and all.”

Hitsugaya, who did make facial expressions, blew air out of his cheeks. “If it makes you feel better, I can stay.”

“I would, very much, appreciate it.”

Seike, Byakuya’s chief retainer, shuffled out onto the engawa. “Lord Kuchiki, the Abarai are here.”

“Please escort them out here,” Byakuya replied, plunking a hat on Captain Hitsugaya’s head, and one on his own.

“It’s so unusual for Uncle Byakuya to invite us over on a Saturday,” Byakuya could hear Rukia’s voice before he could see her. His impression was that the ‘surprise’ involved in this party was a figleaf for Ichika’s sake. Abarai was a fool, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“What is this?” Abarai exclaimed as he and his family stepped through the doorway, although he did a genuine double-take at Byakuya’s flower necklace.

Ichika’s face lit up as she took in the decorations, the food. But then her expression turned to dismay at her uncle, standing still and awkward. He had missed something. It was the text. It was important after all.

Hitsugaya’s elbow jammed into his ribs. “Surprise!” the younger captain yelled. A voice bubble! Of course!

“Surprise!” Byakuya added, belatedly.

“Happy Birthday!” they shouted together, with Rukia and Ichika joining in a beat later.

“Well, I’ll be!” Abarai did his best impression of a surprised person.

“Were you surprised, Daddy!” Ichika asked, jumping up and down and tugging on her father’s hand. “Were you?”

“I was very surprised,” Abarai reassured her.

“Why is Captain Hitsugaya here?” Rukia asked, utterly befuddled.

“I heard there was shaved ice,” Hitsugaya excused very quickly.

“Uncle B did all of it, Daddy, just for you! Isn’t it perfect?”

“Of course it is,” Abarai snorted. “If Uncle B did it, how could it be otherwise?”

#my writing #byahitsu brotp #kuchiki-abarai family feels #this is over 2k words it's no wonder i can't finish out my drabbles #happy birthday renji!#it's renji's birthday until i say it isn't

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