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jiilys · 3 years

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warm front

featuring The Line, also on ao3 here

“You’re a lot better at this than Ron.” Harry said into the phone.

“Well that’s not hard,” Ginny said, not mentioning how she still occasionally picked up the receiver upside down. “Speaking of, he’s started growing a moustache since you left. It’s ghastly.”

“Oi!” Ron’s voice, annoyed, in the background. Harry grinned.

“Oh yeah?”

“It looks like he’s got biscuit crumbs on his upper lip.” Harry laughed, and Millie glared at him from behind the post office counter, “Oh, lovely, he’s giving me the finger.”

“I’ve started growing a bit of a beard actually.”

“Come off it.”

“Feeling left out?” Harry joked

Ginny snorted. “Yes, desperately. Isn’t it hot?”

“Well I think so.”

She laughed, clear and quick, and Harry could imagine her, all limb, leaning against the kitchen cupboard curling the phone wire around her wrist. He’d bought the phone as a bit of joke before he’d left, and then as a joke she’d installed it, and then for a joke he’d rung her, and then this was how they talked now. Arthur had apparently worn a suit when the electrician came to install the power plug.

“Isn’t it hot though? Bill says Australian summers are killers”

Harry looked at Teddy, sat on the post office floor in nothing but shorts sucking an ice-pop. “I’ve been sunburnt in places I never have been before, but it’s mostly fine.”

“Wow, sexy.”

“Bet Ron loved hearing you say that to me.”

“I’m sorry Harry, you want to do what to me? Put that where?”

“Gin-“

“No, we couldn’t in my room, there’s not enough room. Lounge is better, more space. On the dining table.”

Harry could hardly talk. “Stop,” he choked, “He’ll never speak to me again.”

“He left when I said the bit about the lounge, said I was being ‘very immature.’”

Andromeda, desperate to get out, away, gone, bought the land in Australia six months after the war ended. She’d said it was because she’d always liked the heat, but when Harry got there he knew why. He’d never seen anywhere so unlike England, the Australian countryside was all scorched earth, red dirt, dry trees. It could have been a different planet entirely.

He’d followed her six months later to be with Teddy, who at almost a year had hair permanently sunshine yellow, except when it rained it went as grey as concrete. Harry liked the spiders, sand, sunburn of it all. Sometimes, dumbly, he found himself missing sheets of rain, but only when it was so hot he could barely see straight.

Mostly he liked how there was nothing to do there, nowhere he had to be. He was teaching himself how to drive, burying things for Teddy to sniff out (dog nose), going into the tiny town to talk to Ginny on the post office phone, and helping Andromeda build a shed out the back. He’d never used magic less. The days were long and the nights were longer, but it was so different here that that too felt right.

He didn’t know when he’d go home. He kept meaning to set a date and then just didn’t, and then everyone stopped asking. It was stupid, but he felt like he’d know when he was done.

“Dad won’t let me see the phone bill,” Ginny said, picking up on the third ring and not saying hello, “It arrived this morning and he’s been locked in his office all morning with it.”

“Oh, God, I can-“

“Don’t you dare offer to pay for it. I don’t even think it’s that much, I think he’s just trying to recreate the logo at the top or something.”

“I-“

“Stop trying to pay for it- “

“I’m not– “ Harry, who had been, was silent. Then: “Gin, please-“

“No- “

“But- “

“Shut up-“ she said, unbothered, “Mum asked if you got the stuff she sent.”

“I did, the biscuits were excellent. And the tea bags” Harry had cleaned out the tin so Teddy could use it as a hat, which he had been wearing for two days now.

“I told her they already had tea in Australia but she didn’t believe me.”

Harry smiled, “I didn’t mind.”

“She said that even if they did have tea they wouldn’t have English Breakfast, or they would call it something crazy like ‘Australian Outback Breakfast’.”

“How thoughtful of her.”

“Stop being nice about it, it’s ridiculous.”

“It was nice of her.”

“Australian Outback Breakfast, Harry”

“I hate tea and hate that it was graciously sent to me by your mum.” Harry obliged.

“There we go. Killed any snakes yet?”

“Oh yeah, loads. Bears too.”

He could hear her smiling, “Bears, huh?”

“All in your honour.”

“Naturally. Still no success in seducing Millie?”

Harry looked around to the post office reception desk, a stones-throw away from the phone, to where Millie– middle-aged, cardiganed, glasses– was pretending to read the paper and not hate him.

“Haven’t you heard? Wedding’s in the Spring.”

“Damn. Well, we had it good there for a while but true love always wins.”

He laughed, and Millie gave him a look. He waved. She ignored him and went back to the paper.

Ron sent letters, barely legible, by owls that had to be nursed back to health in the bath.

Harry,

Sorry for the writing but I’m on the muggle train because we’re going to Ireland for a few days to stay with her Hermione’s Aunt because she’s ‘dying to meet me’ (???). Anyway, Hermione also says to tell you that Ginny is thinking of cutting a fringe, because apparently that’s important. Apparently girls do that in a crisis, or whatever, she’ll write and explain it.

Ginny is basically living at ours now. The other day she put a Hollyhead Harpies poster up in the living room and when I tried to charm it off all the players screaming at me like Sirius’s fucking mum, so I just moved the cabinet in front of it. Bloody nightmare.

Honestly it isn’t even half bad having her around, she knows all these drinking games and set up your room and sometimes has a go reading over Hermione’s policy reports to the Ministry when I’ve sworn off them. Do not tell her I don’t mind her being round she’ll be annoying about it. I’m getting that Harpies poster off the wall.

Hope Teddy is good and everyone is demanding more photos as usual. All Victorie has to do is chew the carpet around here and everyone gets a bit teary, including me. George jinxed Perce’s glasses into binonoulars the other day and for a weird second everything felt like before and Vic giggled and then George looked like he’d been hit the fucking nightbus. I don’t even know how to explain it– kids really just have no idea about any of it.

Hope Andromeda is good and that the driving is going better. Dad’s framing all of the phone bills he gets which Gin probably already mentioned but I can’t tell you how weird it is to go into my old room and it’s just a bunch of framed bills. Hermione says hello which I’ve already written but she said I didn’t make it clear enough.

We miss you mate. Home soon yeah?

Ron

Often, he thought of the week he’d told them he was leaving. Hermione, drunk, talking to Ginny on the patio of the burrow when she thought everyone was inside. It makes sense, really, she’d said, He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Ron had looked at him and then loudly dropped his firewhiskey and the girls had jumped, turned around, stopped talking, but still. He’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted too. Huh.

“How’s driving?”

“Oh, fine. I killed a swan.” Harry said, demoralised. Ginny laughed for a good two minutes.

“What?”

“I hit the wrong pedal and speed up instead of slowing down. I didn’t know what to do so I just moved it off to the side of the road.”

“Ah, the Boy who Lived strikes again.”

“Stop,” He was smiling, “What if Teddy had seen it?”

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“

“–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Andromeda was in her garden a lot. Getting anything to grow was near impossible, but she wouldn’t stop working at it. She kept saying that soon they’d be able to have a green beans salad, so Harry just drove to a market and stuck a few green beans in the ground to make her laugh. As a sort of joke they’d started calling the land ‘the farm’ even though nothing ever grew here.

They took Teddy to the ocean for the first time and his eyes went blue the second he saw it. The beach where they’d buried Dobby was overcast, water as grey as dishwater, but here the it glittered like glass, blue light come alive. Teddy sat in the shallows, trying to flatten waves with his fists, laughing.

Andromeda sat on a towel by the dunes under an enormous hat, tears running down her face, abruptly laughing when Teddy tried to eat sand or fell over a sandcastle. Harry knew how she felt. Impossible, how two years ago Teddy had two living parents and Harry had been seventeen, dead and walking, and now they were sat on the beach, people they loved dead for real, as Harry and Teddy lined up shells on the shore.

It was three in the morning but Harry snuck in through a backdoor, cloak on, having to jimmy the lock because he forgot his wand. The streets were pitch black, only three streetlights in the whole main street, with two of them not working anyway.

“Why’re you awake?” Ginny said lightning quick, knowing the time difference by heart, and Harry’s chest unlocked. It was stupidly comforting, Ginny’s voice, how she never said hello on the phone because she never learned, how if he really made her laugh she’d hold the receiver away from her, like he wasn’t desperate to hear it.

“I thought I saw Sirius today,” he couldn’t stop himself, “There was a dog on the farm and it was huge and I thought– I forgot he was dead. Isn’t that stupid?”

There was only Ginny’s breath down the phone. Picture: her in the kitchen, gripping the receiver, still. The memory looped in his brain, how Sirius’ name had risen in his throat, how odd it felt there, how long it had been since he’d said it aloud.

“No.” He almost didn’t hear her it’s so quiet, “I went to the shop yesterday and asked Ron if Fred was in the back. I forget too.”

His heart slowed, the memory of the shop: solid and real, running again, made for laughing, rose up, only then he shut his eyes and saw everyone laid out in rows, glassy eyes, and somehow he was walking through the forest again, going to die, but not soon enough–

“Harry.” Ginny’s voice, dragging him back to earth, “You did everything you could. Sirius knew. Everyone knew. No one could have done better.” She sounded so sure, voice as clear as glass, he’d be a fool not to believe her, “It hurts because they loved us. They loved us. That’s the part to remember.”

“You are kidding-!” This time Harry didn’t say hello.

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“Harpies reserve!” Harry was yelling in the post office and Millie looked appalled, “They’ll promote you in two weeks, you genius, I knew it– “

“I’m sorry I really have no idea who this is.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.”

“I sent the letter!” Ginny dropped the joke, indignant.

“We spoke two days ago! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me then–”

“–I sent our fastest owl.”

“Marius is currently passed out in the sink–“

Ginny laughed, “I wanted you to get the letter,” she said, finally, “I wanted you to see it. Did you see Madeline McKinnon signed it?”

She sounded like a kid. He grinned. “I did.”

“Best beater this century sent a letter to my house, asking me to be on her team. Madness. The English team are after her you know, it’s all over the Prophet.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to send the letter back because I think that really will finish Marius off.”

“Please, you think I sent the real thing? Dad made twenty copies. He hung two on Ron and Hermione’s fridge and sent one to Aunty Muriel.”

Harry grinned, “You’re brilliant, I’m hanging my copy on the front door, framed.”

“The moving logo may cause problems for the muggles”

“Who cares? I want to tell everyone about this. Chaser for the Harpies–“

“I’m a reserve.”

“For now.” He could hear her smile through the phone, “What did everyone say?”

“Ron said I was a traitor and that he was also proud. Mum cried. Hermione promised to actually watch a game, George reminded me about nicking his broom all that time so technically he was also partly on the team, Bill bought a season pass, Charlie hung a giant Harpies poster in his shite apartment and sent a photo, Luna sent me awful flowers that won’t stop smoking, and Percy called to congratulate me on my admission to the ‘Hollygrove Harps.’”

Harry laughed, “Incredible.”

“Yeah, Perce’s was particularly heartfelt.”

Harry,

I’m sat at the dining table and everyone’s still here, but Mum wanted me to recap Charlie’s birthday dinner right now because she doesn’t want you to miss anything. Hermione also agreed with this mental idea.

Dinner Summary:

Food was good

Hermione tried to explain the electric collage or whatever decides American elections to Dad, it was stupid.

Hermione says it was electoral college not the eccentric cage or whatever I wrote

George got Charlie a life-size model of the Horntail that he almost opened in the house. Mum had a fit.

Dad told a story about how the Muggle Foreign Minister ended up with a bathtub cursed to drown anyone in it.

Ginny wants me to say Percy is wearing a cardigan Millie would be proud of. I do not know what this means. Better not be a sex thing.

Hermione says hello (again she insisted I write this down like it isn’t obvious)

Mum wants me to say we all miss you still (again, obvious)

She also wants to know if you need her to make you any shorts (do not answer this)

Charlie wants to say cheers for the gift – apparently they only do that burn cream in Australia and it’s hard to come by

George doesn’t have anything to say he just wanted to be involved so I’ve written this so he’ll bugger off.

I’m bloody sending this now, I feel like a quick quotes quill (Fleur asks how you are). Have a good one mate.

Home soon yeah?

Ron.

Sometimes, when he was driving home from the post-office just after the sunset, everything sat in the new-dark, he’d remember when he used to be on watch, sat in front of the tent holding Hermione’s wand with everything going wrong, and how only then he’d let himself think about Ginny. Her voice, long laugh, longer legs, telling him to move over, pass the milk, look left, met her later, skip that flashcard, relax, put Luna in as chaser if it all goes arse up– she’s Ravenclaw but I’ll vouch for her. Dumb hours spent on the Quidditch pitch, sun going down, watching her get shot after shot past him like she even needed the practise. C’mon Potter at least try to save these, you’re making Ron look like Wood. Her hair everywhere, laughing, head back, both of them impossibly far from the ground

I really don’t want to die, Harry would think in the dark, wand out, ready for it, I really don’t want to die and miss out on you

Harry,

Sorry I couldn’t call but everything’s been nuts here and I wasn’t sure when I’d get to talk to you. Malcotti’s fucked her ankle so I may actually get put in for a game?? She’s been told to take it easy for a week and we play the Magpies in four days, so?? I’ll let you know when I can call. I’m currently writing this at the post-office desk and running late for practise.

Sidenote: this express owl cost me four galleons so I hope it does a dance on its arrival or at least arrives within the day. Tell Andromeda hello and that I’m still rooting for the green beans. Also, good luck for the driving test!! I’m sure you won’t hit anything living or dead and/or drive into a lake, but also if you do just confund the instructor. I solemnly swear not to tell Hermione.

Thinking of you. Kiss Teddy for me,

Gin

The click of the receiver: “I only have five minutes, we’re about to eat.”

Harry smiled, “How’s home?”

“Absolutely nothing to note. Victorie threw up on Bill yesterday, so that was a joy.”

“Supportive as usual.”

“Hey, I am supportive.” Harry could tell the phone was jammed between her shoulder and her ear, heard a knife on a cutting board, “Supportive of Victorie’s right to throw up on Bill whenever she wants.”

“Are you cooking?”

“I’m cutting potatoes by hand to avoid the lounge because Fleur and Mum are talking about how to discipline children.”

“Sounds tense.”

“You don’t know the half of it. Ron had to pretend to be on the phone with you earlier for ten minutes just to get out of there. He says hi– fuck!”

Harry heard the phone fall, “Ginny?”

A scrambling on the other end, distantly: “You’re bleeding on the potatoes!”

“Hi,” Ginny’s voice, a little breathless, “I cut myself.”

“You alright?” Harry asked, quick-shot.

“Oh, yeah. Just blood. Admirably everyone is showing a lot of concern” (Percy’s voice, distant and mournfully, “well there’s no way we can eat these now”)

He thought about going home sometimes, about the flat with Ron and Hermione he was currently paying for that he’d never lived in, what he’d do back in England. No one had ever come out to visit him here, some unspoken agreement they’d all made to give him space. Except, knowing Ron and Hermione and Mrs Weasley and he’s never been anywhere he wasn’t hunted to it probably was very much spoken, it’s just he wasn’t there for it.

The thing is, if he went home that meant no more seeing Teddy every day, sitting around eating cereal, watching him walk into walls or turn his nails pink, giving him ice cream for lunch and strap him into the truck, driving around the farm doing spins just to make him laugh. Even after all this time Australia was so far from the familiar, every night him and Andromeda sat on the deck lazily casting cooling charms, looking at all the stars.

On full moons Teddy got in bed with all the curtains open, blinds up, just to look at the moon. He couldn’t sleep unless he saw it. Harry wondered if he ever did anything like that, got pulled towards something of his parents without realising it. Quidditch, probably. Looking for something without knowing, not sure what you were really missing. Teddy’s huge eyes, the moon, and that familiar feeling: Stop, wait, I can’t believe I’ll never see you again. Come back, I wasn’t done yet. I don’t know how to do it without you.

It was pitch-black, four in the morning Queensland time, but it had been the only time she’d had free. Harry was leaning against the booth wall, letting the cloak slip, exhausted. Ginny cleared her throat in an odd way.

“So, you know I hate asking about this. It makes me– I don’t want to be that person” She sounded, wrong, uncomfortable, like white knuckles gripping the receiver, “But everyone’s been asking and I want– when do you think you’ll be coming home?”

Harry was quiet. All this time away– almost a year, eleven months, it occurred to him– and she’d never asked. She was the only one who hadn’t. “Oh, I don’t know. Soon, I guess.”

“Yeah.” She said, unreadable. A beat went past, and Harry could feel the shift, how that was the wrong thing. He could hear her breathing. “Do you want– if you want, we could take a break-“

“No” Harry said, so fast, “No, no I don’t want that. Do you want that?”

“No. No. I just– I don’t want this to be difficult. I don’t want you to feel, like– obligated. If you want like room away from everything I get it. Just tell me– I don’t want– Just tell me.”

Harry’s heart was going into his chest like an endlessly slamming door. How to explain it? You wouldn’t believe the space here, all this room, all this time I have. I didn’t think I’d get it. I want space but never from you.

“I’m not with you because I feel obligated. I’m– That isn’t how I feel. I don’t want space or a break or anything.”

Silence, endless, pouring down the phone. He could be sick. Then, Ginny’s voice: “Okay.”

“I’m coming back to England, Gin. I’m coming back, just, when I’m– when I’m done. I’m coming home. Soon.”

“Okay. I just wanted to make sure that this– that this is still good.”

“It is.” He was so stupid. A war ends and everything finally works out, everyone safe for real, and he goes running to the other side of the world and doesn’t say when he’s coming home. Ginny, at home, getting a phone wired up just to call him. He had no luck for seventeen years and then it all came at once, and now he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I love you,” he said, which he never said because it felt heavy, full of gravity, and he spent all his time trying to make her laugh.

Deep breath. He could hear her shoulders unknotting through the phone. “I love you too.”

“Harry?”

“Ron?”

“Can you hear me? Is this?– how do I know if this is on?”

“It’s on,” Harry said, hurriedly, “Is everything alright?”

“I tried to give Pig a letter for you this morning and he bit me and flew into the window.” Harry started laughing, “So I thought I’d try give him a break.”

Harry pulled himself together, “Yeah maybe that’s for the best. How are you?”

“Oh, the usual. The shop is still nuts so Hermione stopped by to help out on Saturday and ate half a Bile Biscuit thinking it was shortbread– hilarious. George threatened to charge her. If Ginny’s not at a practise she’s at our place drinking all the milk, and Luna came by the other day and threw all the stuff in the fridge out because she said it was infected with ‘Mimilice’. You?”

“The same. Teddy turned his leg into the end of a snake the other day and I had a fit. Andromeda put him in the sink so he couldn’t slither away before phasing back. It’s currently 39 degrees.” Ron laughed.

“God, even your voice sounds hot.”

“Woah, mate. I’m seeing someone and so are you.”

“Ha ha.” Ron said sarcastically, “I wish I could turn this up so everyone in the empty living room could have heard that.”

“Please don’t try to use the speaker phone, you’ll accidentally dial the embassy or something.”

“’Speaker phone’? What could the phone have to say?”

Teddy turned two and Andromeda make him a cake by hand with a spider on it that moved. He blew out the candles and looked bemused, sat in a top Hermione had sent, still holding onto a scrap of ribbon. Harry took him outside and sat him on his Nimbus Seven Series, entirely too long, and Teddy did slow circles while Harry held the end, watching him laugh, tiny hands grasping the handle. Suddenly, like being thrown through a window, Remus was in front of him, standing in the Hogwarts Hallway, breathless and happy, saying his sons name.

The post office has been closing for a good fifteen minutes, but Harry brought the cloak, pretended to leave, then snuck back and picked up the phone again.

“I think I just saw Millie’s husband.”

“You’re kidding.”

“A guy came to pick her up, he had a hat on, she got in the front seat–“

“What kind of hat?”

“I don’t know, normal. Like a normal old-person hat.”

“You didn’t say he was old.”

Harry grinned, “You really thought Millie seemed the type to be with a 25-year-old?”

“Hey, you’re going out with me after all–“

Harry spluttered, “I’m a year older!”

“Year and a half–“

“You’re unbelievable. That is not the same.”

“Just because you like younger women–“

“I don’t like younger women, I like you, or I did until a few minutes ago. I’m now reconsidering.”

“You like me.” Ginny said, not really serious but also deadly so.

Harry smiled, said dryly, “What gave me away?”

Harry had started dreaming of home, the staring in the street, dishes washing themselves in the Burrow, Hogwarts lake dark and silky as eels. He couldn’t tell what had brought this on, only that he was now driving into town every day to talk to Ginny, and now Ron, Hermione, even Neville were coming to the phone.

“They miss you” Andromeda said, unprompted, drinking muggle wine on the deck one night after dinner, “Molly wrote last week asking if you mentioned when you’d be coming back.”

“Oh,” Harry said, because he couldn’t think of anything else. “Do you think you’ll come back?”

The question hung between them. Terrible thought: Teddy never back in England, Teddy growing up where Harry couldn’t see him.

“I will.” She looked back at him, unbearably, and it was everything that went unsaid.

“How?” Harry asked, unthinking.

Andromeda looked back out the window, the pressing dark, the unbearable heat. Even after all this time, making dinner, sitting on the dark deck, weeding the garden, she was still unreadable. Grief undid you in layers.

“Because Nymphadora would want me to.” She said, simply. “Because I want her to think I’m brave.”

The post office shuts for a week because Millie goes out of town, and the place is small enough that that means it’s not open till she gets back. Harry makes it four days before apparating hundreds of miles away, almost splinching himself in the heat, dizzy from lack of practise, and stumbling to a payphone at the side of a highway.

Click. “Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“Yeah, I went out of town to call.”

“Out of town huh? Miss me that much?” Ginny’s voice, joking.

Unbelievably, Harry thought. “Yeah well, Teddy isn’t much of a conversationalist.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, you’ll knock his confidence.”

“He’ll get past it. How are you?”

“Fine. Well– actually, you won’t believe what happened at practise on Thursday, I hope you’re sitting down–“

“I’m not–” Harry grinned

“Squat then,” Ginny said blithely, “because Jacqueline has actually gone full bonkers–“

“My parents say its incredible “ Hermione’s voice, the only person in his life who spoke in a normal tone on the phone

“Yeah, we’ve been actually.” Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that Teddy had found the Great Ocean Road blindingly boring and had only made it an hour in before him and Andromeda had decided it wasn’t worth the screaming anymore.

“Yeah, Mum and Dad were thinking of coming down, doing it again.”

Harry played along, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was endearingly fake-casual, “Maybe Ron and I would come too.”

“Ron wants to drive 150 miles along a stretch of boring road with your parents?”

“You didn’t say it was boring.”

“Slip of the tongue,” Harry smiled, “What about the Ministry? And the shop?”

“We’re thinking about doing travelling.”

“The year we spent in a tent in various country-sides not enough?”

“Funnily enough seeing the sights wasn’t top of mind then.”

Harry smiled darkly, “If we’re going travelling let’s do Italy, or America, or something. Soon. Somewhere none of us have ever been.”

Hermione left it a beat too long for it to be a normal silence, “I heard Italy is beautiful, the history there is incredible…”

Harry could almost hear talking to Ron later: “and then he said if we’re going travelling, ‘we’re’, Ron! And ‘soon’! he thinks he’ll be travelling with us ‘soon’!. And Ron, “so you didn’t ask when he’s coming back then?, and then Hermione: “didn’t you hear? soon! He said soon!”

He was walking back to the car from the post office one day, Teddy plodding beside him infatuated with a passing goose, with Ginny’s voice still swimming around him, the sound of Ron telling her to shut up, pass the receiver, I’ve got to tell him the Cannons score, and he walked into the travel agents and booked one-way ticket to England for next week. Just like that.

Stupid, really, how he heard their voices all the time (walking in the street, making a sandwich, fixing the plumbing) but had never made the connection. He was in the street like always, hearing the call all again, and thought I wish they were here for real, and then walked into the air-conditioning and pulled out his chequebook. It really was that easy. The goose was still outside when he left holding his ticket, Teddy squirming to get closer to it with a full-on beak that Harry was trying to hide with one hand.

Home soon Harry thought the whole drive home, the thought expanding in his chest, the window open, his hair blowing everywhere– longer than it had ever been. Even when he got back to the farm, told Andromeda (who promised to follow in a year), made dinner, went to bed, he imagined he would feel different. Something huge and unfelt before, but really everything was the the same as ever. He just missed them, is all. He was learning that sometimes love really was that simple, that it was reason enough.

“I read that people sometimes make signs at airports.”

Harry smiled, phone cord wrapped around his palm. “Saying what?”

“Guess you’ll find out tomorrow.”

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry, no magic involved. We don’t want to alarm the muggles. Luna asked if she could bring her lion hat but Hermione got intervened.”

“Luna’s coming?”

“Yes, duh. Everyone is. It’s been a year a half.”

Harry, who had had visions of kissing Ginny ridiculously for an hour in front of the plane, adjusted his expectations.

Ginny, as usual, reading his mind: “Don’t worry. I’ve briefed Ron that I’ll still be kissing you senseless so he had better start getting over it.”

Harry grinned, “Bet he loved that.”

“He called me a cocksucker, and then I pointed out that actually I hadn’t been in a year and a half–“

“Gin!”

“–and he said my name exactly like that, yeah.”

Harry couldn’t stop laughing, bright red in the post office for the last time as Millie shushed him, “You are unbelievable.”

“Well, believe me.” she said, dryly, “I’ll be seeing you in 29 hours.”

Harry, also counting, ducked his head, grinning. It turned out all his best luck was waiting at this part of his life, who knew. Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.

“I’m going to be totally unusable, you know. The flight’s twenty-one hours.”

“Yeah, you’re an idiot. I know you’re on a whole no-magic kick but this really is the limit. What are you going to eat?”

“Hermione says they serve eggs and stuff.”

“Wow, really? How?”

Harry considered. “I actually have no idea. Maybe please bring some chips or something to the airport.”

Ginny laughed, the best sound in the world, “Only if you bring me some eggs.”

#sorry this is late sorry to all my unanswered messages i had to post this today i had to get it away from me!!!#hinny #hinny fic #harry potter #ginny weasley #otp: several sunlit days #i have to run everyone is waiting on me sorry everyone i love you all lots i turn 21 in three days who could believe it!!!#carolineswritingtag

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theteej · 3 years

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“You need to take serious time for yourself, do self-care, or something,” my best friend Mark said to me, uncomfortably earnestly.

“I’m serious. You haven’t been letting anything in, and you just have to sit and stop running. Go process, or feel, or just let it sink in that you did things and you surprisingly don’t suck.”

Fuck, he’s right.

And so that’s what I’m doing. Last week I booked an Airbnb in La Jolla, a tony coastal enclave of San Diego near where I went to undergrad. I pretended I was on vacation, but in a pandemic. I booked a small studio near the water, and planned to spend these next few days reading, reflecting, walking along the ocean, and staying otherwise indoors and trying to wrestle with this whole semester. I pulled up to the studio last night, unpacked my bags, and cried. Like cried a lot. I felt lonely and scared, but also so numb. I felt a sea of blankness all around me, and a sense of trepidation.

Honestly, I don’t know what to do about all of my stupid feelings.

Where to start?

I feel like I’ve been anxious nearly my whole life. It’s absolutely something that developed as a kid with a violent, drunken father. You learn to live in between heartbeats like that, always testing what’s about to happen, trying to think of the next thing to plan in order to stay safe. Sure, your brain says tauntingly. Things are OK right now, but what if they’re not in a few minutes? Or even worse: Things ARE terrible—what are you going to do if they stay that way forever? These are the gifts Tyrone Tallie Sr left me, along with an unoriginal legal name and a stubborn widows peak visible whenever I grow my hair out for a few weeks.

Couple that with a natural tendency to think quickly, and you have the birth of a personality that masked my calculating self-security by turning those constant permutations into clever moments for interaction or comment. Like many people, my wit is born of trauma; the ability to process things in quick time is born out of needing to feel safe, and frequently gets deployed to put others at ease. That’s one of the weirder contradictory things about being me. I am simultaneously witty and clever and in control, and I am also always quietly freaking out, or at the very least, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Which is why this has been….a damn semester. Teaching two classes fully remotely with panicked, overwhelmed students in the shadow of an ever-worsening pandemic that stretches on and on without end and feeling daily gaslighted by the endless selfishness of your fellow citizens—what a gift for the anxious. Ironically, anxiety helped to a certain extent because I didn’t have the shock of falling into a new world of uncertainty or fear that so many non-anxious folk did this year. But that’s hardly a gift, is it? Congratulations! You’re already living as if a bomb can go off at any moment, so you’re not struggling to adjust to the new horror show of life!

Teaching this semester has been…just without any context. I’ve taught online, but not in this same planned way and with everyone panicking, and the looming threat of pandemic and election. And yet we did it. We pulled ourselves together, and my students were honest about their needs and their breakdowns and I tried to model humility and grace and confusion and rage as well as they did. We didn’t fuck it up. Or, we all fucked up, and it was okay. We learned things. Students surprised me, and it was glorious. I got to be broken and I didn’t die.

It was an intense semester of overworking as well. I was on a bunch of committees, formal and informal, and we managed to get a new minor—African Studies—passed. I’ll be heading a new program on campus next year, and that’s exciting and terrifying. And on top of all of that, I couldn’t stop volunteering for stuff, or talking about things I cared about. In addition to teaching, I gave fourteen different presentations or talks this semester, an increase in expectations or agreements on my part thanks to the ubiquity of zoom. It grinds on you: the whole, get up, trudge to the back room, power up a personality for the zoom camera, and pour yourself digitally into a screen, only to feel yourself broken into little packets of light and data and scattered across the universe.

The talks went well. The student evaluations went well. Honestly, both were fucking great. And I haven’t let myself feel a goddamn thing. I let it slide off me like rain on a waxed deck, the droplets beading on the slick wood before slipping away into the darkness. I cant let it sink in, because then something good might be happening, and the very skills that have made me capable—the whip-fast reflexes, the self-deprecating humour, the rapid analysis—are also tied to the very deep-seeded anxiety. Everything has to be calculated and understood and prepared for, because at some moment a dark curtain is going to fall over the face of a man with my same name. He will smack me so hard I will go flying out of a chair and hit the wall with a soft, sickly whump, a particularly unpleasant of me at seven that I carry sewn into every cell of my skin and fiber of my being.

I can’t stop and let it sink in because I have internalized the worst calculus of overachiever life—push harder, don’t stop for the good, that’s normal. Stop only for the bad to learn from it, take in its horror, and let it never happen to you again. And so I found myself at the end of the semester holding a bag of relative joy like a party favour, looking around anxiously for bullies to come snatch it out of my hands.

And then Jeopardy fucking happened.

I got to be on television. I got to talk to Alex Trebek, the same man who held my grandmother’s hand on Classic Concentration and saw that her for the beautiful, formidable queen that she was. I got to turn silly trivia knowledge into cash—and I got to do it while being me. And to my confusion—people liked me. It went well, they felt I resonated with something inside of them, and they liked it.

I do not, in my own skill set, have the tools to deal with that. I am supposed to be clever and fast, and witty, and engaging and lovable—but I do not know how to actually think of receiving goodness. I know how to process being witty and clever and delightful—I did what I was supposed to do, good job, next—but I don’t know how to actually take that positivity in.

I keep waiting for all of this to fall apart, for everyone to hate me in the reassuring ways that I distrust or marginalize or disbelieve myself. And yet, I know that’s not helpful. Hence, overachiever’s therapy: forcing oneself to prematurely trade on prize money and spend a three day love/relaxation retreat, less than fifteen miles from my own apartment.

I woke up and cried a little. I then tried to mediate or at least focus on the positives of late. Nope. Nothing came. I decided it was time for coffee. I drank some that I made in the Airbnb, but realized I needed to get outside for a walk. I changed into a bright yellow caftan and an extra-dramatic face mask, and went for a walk on the streets of La Jolla, the bougie and strange bubble by the sea.

La Jolla can double in weird ways like other parts of the world I frequent. It feels sometimes like I’m in Durban (if you’re more partial to Umhlanga Rocks or Durban North) or Wellington (if you love Mount Vic or Oriental Bay), or even Vancouver (if you feel like West Point Grey or the haughtiest parts of Kitsilano are your thing). It’s a rich place, one that I don’t belong in, but one that I can feign a few hours of enjoyment and sun.

Today I walked down palm tree lined streets in the perfect weather, the breeze pushing through my still-short hair with a strange urgency. I picked up a cold brew coffee and a freshly caught and grilled halibut sandwich that my therapist recommended (we decided to briefly be pescatarian for a day and chalked it up to the ‘medical advice.’), then I turned toward the coast. I sat for a long time looking at the waves—unsurprisingly—with a bit of anxiety.

What if I relaxed WRONG? What if I couldn’t let myself feel joy? What if I just wasted the day by…eating this sandwich and not fully appreciating the beautiful ocean waves, golden sun, or nature all around me. After a while I realized that sounded ridiculous, and just forced myself to sit.

And as the old Zulu language dance song “Unamanga” by the late Patricia Majalisa started to filter to my headphones, as I stared out at the sea and the sun, something shifted. I felt something like, I don’t know, a failure in the sealnt around myself, and some drops dripped in, slowly. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t have to do this in a grand gesture. I could enjoy myself and the small joys I’d found in life so far.

I could be grateful and quietly glad for the little things that happened. It wasn’t about deserving it, or about it being worthy of me. I could imagine for right now, that this was a thing that I could have. I could sit and marvel that some great shit happened to me, and it was OK. Let’s not get it twisted—I didn’t have an epiphany, there were no turnbacks on the road to Emmaus. But I did find a little quietude in my soul for a second and stopped frantically Teflon-ing my heart from joy for a second.

I survived a hell semester, and did well. I got a wonderful opportunity and it went well. I could just let hat happen and also not ignore that it happened, to focus on negatives in an outsized way. I could, in this single afternoon moment, be delighted that things had gone okay. And not worry or strategize about the next disaster, which would happen on its own anyway. And…that’s all I can do right now.

Also, I’m going to work on this more, this whole letting people love me and letting it sink in. I usually avoid it because I feel like it keeps me off my game from the inevitable disaster to follow. But that’s not how I want to live. I’m going to try to think about what it means that some of you all tell me you love me, and then to show it. I need to reconcile the nonstop whirligig of my mind also turns menacingly in on itself so often, and that acknowledging the gift of calculated wit and mirth also means I have to cultivate love and joy.

So tomorrow, I’m going to go for a brief run, I’m going to drink some lovely coffee, and I’m going to walk along the ocean again. (And then I’m going to keep staying in this Airbnb so I don’t catch or spread this plague.)

What a fucking semester, y’all.

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kellykadesperate · 4 years

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all i want for christmas

Part 2/5 of Christmas AU Fics: Robert remembers when he first met Aaron at work. He was laughing with some idiot he didn’t know was Adam, proper folding over about something and then he looked up, caught Robert’s eye and sort of stopped. He was bright red, eyes flickering and then he turned away.

It was just a second, a moment, and then it was gone.

Robert thought it was nothing, and then it was forming a friendship, it was after work drinks and this thing inside him getting harder to ignore.

He remembers when they first kissed, Aaron was drunk, hands gripped at Robert’s jumper as he pushed him against the wall separating the canteen from the main entrance of the office. It felt like everything and then it was nothing at all.

Then it was a mistake, then it was someone called Alex waiting at home for Aaron and it was making everything numb in Robert’s chest.

Now, Aaron’s panting against Robert’s ear and he’s naked, in his bed, covers thrown over them in the middle of winter. It’s snowing outside and Robert stares, hand in Aaron’s hair.

“What you thinking?” Aaron asks. He always does but he always never really wants to know.

Robert’s thinking about how it’s Christmas Day tomorrow and Aaron’s in his bed instead of his own with his boyfriend. He’s thinking about how Victoria knows he’s in love with someone but he can’t show him off.

He can’t introduce him to her and make her think he’s not still going through the motions of bed hopping. He can’t because Aaron’s not his to show off.

He’s someone else’s.

Aaron kisses Robert’s neck, gentle and then with something more as he cups Robert’s face and holds their hands together. Robert stares down until he can’t, he untangles them and Aaron makes this sound like it physically hurt.

“Rob.”

“Won’t he be wondering where you are?” Alex is a good guy. He’s steady and nice and a doctor which means he’s almost universally loved.

“Why mention him?” Aaron whispers, his head dips and sometimes Robert doesn’t understand why there’s got to be such a choice here. Sometimes Aaron speaks about Alex like he has to be with him and it makes Robert feel like he can’t breathe.

“Because he’s your boyfriend.” He was when they first kissed, first fell into bed, first agreed that they couldn’t keep away from each other and arranged hotels and private meetings.

Aaron’s sort of the bad guy in this but it’s hard to see him like that. A few months ago, an anniversary of his mum passing, he needed Aaron and he was with Alex at is.

It hurt everywhere.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron had said, the next day and in between Robert trying to make himself a coffee at work. He held a hand against Robert’s back, crowded his space and he was everywhere again.

Love, that terrifying one, was on the tip of Robert’s tongue as Aaron placed flowers on Robert’s desk, told them they could go see her together. They did, and Robert, with everything deep inside him, wanted to tell her Aaron was his.

He didn’t.

Aaron chews his lip now. “I know he is.”

“So do I.” Robert says. “So you should be with him.”

“I’m here with you.” Aaron looks up at him and then the wind outside makes the window almost rattle. Robert’s hit by a memory, both of them in Aaron’s bed and the sound of the door being knocked on suddenly.

Aaron just looked at him, like he was saying he didn’t care, like he was saying: he has a key, he can use the key.

It made Robert sit up on the bed and start searching for his top until the sound stopped and whoever it was left.

“They’re gone. Come back.”

“You wanted him to see us.” Robert said, with this wave of sadness suddenly. “Get you off the hook.”

“Off ... off what hook?” Aaron had tried, and Robert felt his insides harden against it all. “Robert, come back.”

“I can’t do this.”

“I wouldn’t have lied.” Aaron said, and he probably thought it made him brave but it didn’t. “I would have let him come in and seen you here. I ...”

“That isn’t choosing me.” Robert had said, stumbled back against how much he felt. He never mentioned choosing before but the feeling was everywhere. “That’s letting someone make decisions for you. So I can’t ... I can’t do this anymore.” He left then, in tears, half dressed.

He convinced himself that he’d get over it all, by Christmas he’d be okay but then Aaron was Aaron and he was in love with him.

“I can’t lose you.” Aaron had said, days after pretending it didn’t hurt not to be near each other. He had his hands imprinted on Robert’s chest, heavy and strong and shaking. “Please Rob, please.”

And Robert should have said choose me, leave him. But he didn’t, he let Aaron fall into his arms instead.

He’s looking down at him now, eyes blue and wide and gentle. This tightness in his chest comes out of nowhere.

“I’m here with you.” Aaron says again, strokes a hand over Robert’s collar bone lazily and then kisses his shoulder like he doesn’t want to do anything else other than spend his time here.

Robert imagines tomorrow, Aaron in bed with Alex and having had a happy Christmas with each other. He can’t think of anything else.

“Leave him Aaron.”

There’s this silence, it’s heavy and loud and makes Robert want the ground to swallow him up. He’s never asked him like this before, he’s tried, he’s tried so many times but it’s never come out so clear.

He doesn’t take it back.

“Robert ...”

“Do you love him like you should?”

Aaron’s head rolls back slightly at the question and he breathes in. “You tell me what the right way is?”

“Us.” The word just falls out, it sounds easy and lost all at the same time. “It’s me and you. It’s the way I ...” Love you, need you, want you.

Aaron has a hand in his hair, covers hanging by his waist. “I don’t ...”

“You don’t want to choose.” Robert says. He breathes in deeply and then he swings himself over the bed, starts putting his jeans on. “I’ll do it for you.”

He’s strong, he’s so strong suddenly and he has to.

“You should go.” Aaron’s face crumbles. He stares at him when he shouldn’t. “Go back to him, just go.” He just wants this tightness in his chest to stop.

“Robert, please.” He says please, says it with almost everything inside of him but Robert just shakes his head.

“You’re scared. You’re scared of this just like I was but I’m not anymore. I know what I want. I want you and me outside of this.” He looks around the room. “But you don’t and I can’t do this anymore so just do me a favour and let me go.” It comes out without him even breathing, he’s rushing it out before he takes it back.

“I’m sorry.” Aaron’s voice is thick and sad and Robert wants to hate him but he can’t.

“Have a good Christmas.” Robert kicks his leg under the bed, pushes the present out and hands it to Aaron like it’s the last time he’ll ever be so close to him. There’s tears in his eyes that start rolling down his face when he hears Aaron gather his things and leaves.

—

He goes to Vic’s for Christmas, she squeezes his arm and says that there’s something wrong with him and he should just say. But he doesn’t say a word. He sticks an apron on and hides in the kitchen whilst she snogs her boyfriend and they exchange presents.

“You’re not yourself.” Vic rarely sees him outside of Christmas and birthdays and it’s because she still refuses to move out of this pokey village. Yet she still looks at him like she knows he’s just had his heart broken.

He thinks he’s broken his own heart, he’s sure that if he didn’t say anything, Aaron might have popped round for an hour today and made it better. But that’s the point. He wants more.

“I’m fine. Not the biggest fan of Christmas, that’s all.” He would be, if Aaron was here. It would make having a paper hat on his head feel less stupid at least.

“Well I’m glad your here.” Vic says, smile strong and gentle and enough to make his chin wobble a little. He has her. He has all of her. So he gets halfway through dinner, head down and Ellis shouting about something on the telly.

The queen’s speech is on when there’s a knock at the door and Vic actually gets up to answer it. He’s in his own head but he hears her surprise.

“Oh.” Vic frowns. “Does he know you’re ... Rob?”

He stands, sees Aaron of all people standing at the door. He’s been crying, of course he has. His eyes are red and puffy and he moves from one foot to the other.

“Please. Two seconds.” Aaron’s almost crying now and Robert can’t say no to him. He grabs his coat and avoids Vic’s glare as he steps outside and sees that Aaron’s trying his hardest not to touch him.

“What is it?” Robert feels weird having Aaron so close to home, he doesn’t know what to do.

“You.” Aaron blurts out.

“Alex at work?”

“Yeah.” Aaron frowns, Robert goes to turn around and Aaron grabs at his shoulders to turn him back around. “I ended it with him.”

Robert thinks he’s gone deaf. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Aaron has tears in his eyes. His lips are cracked from the way he’s been biting down. “I said I was in love with someone else. I said I was ... I said I couldn’t be with him because I wanted to be with you.” He holds Robert’s jumper again like when they first kissed and it makes Robert’s head spin. “Because I love you.”

He loves him, he loves him. He actually loves him.

“But ...”

Aaron’s eyes flicker. “You’re right. I was scared wasn’t I? I was scared ‘cause you weren’t meant to happen. But you did. You changed everything.”

Robert looks down. “What changed?”

Aaron frowns. “It hurt so much when you told me to go.” He frowns. “Your present.” He shakes his head. “No one knows me like you do.”

Robert’s cheeks reddening. “Just some tickets for some Rocky mara—“

“Alex thought I liked rocky horror.” Robert would laugh if there wasn’t tears in his eyes. Aaron comes forward, has a hand pressed flatly against Robert’s chest. “I’m yours.”

Robert looks down at him, has his forehead pressed against Aaron’s and he swoops down to kiss him. His hands clasp right around the back of Aaron’s neck and he feels like he’s in a dream or something.

Aaron draws back, looks at the paper hat still on Robert’s head somehow. “Merry Christmas then?”

“It is now yeah.” Robert holds at Aaron’s hand, squeezes and tilts his head towards the cottage. Aaron pales under this nervousness and Robert squeezes harder. “She’ll love you.”

“I love you.” Aaron says it like he needs Robert to know, like now he’s not afraid anymore it’s all he can say.

“I love you too.” Robert does, and he’s here and it’s everything.

“I didn’t get you ...” Aaron says, stumped as they get through the door.

“You’re here. It’s the best present ...”

“Sap.”

“Your sap.” Robert says; forgets that Vic is staring at them from the kitchen having heard every word.

“Yeah.” Aaron says seriously. “All yours.”

“Staying for dinner then?” Vic pokes her head out, Aaron nods slowly. He stays for this Christmas, Robert hopes he’ll stay for all the others.

#robron fics #robron #emmerdale #I’ll post it on ao3 soon

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turtle-steverogers · 4 years

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Not Guilty

remember when I was gonna write a murder mystery? well, it kinda took a turn plotwise, but here it finally is

Being a homicide detective is all fun and games until you start to fall for the lead suspect in your most recent case.

warnings: description of a dead body, talk about death

ship: ralbert, platonic spalbert

word count: 2480

Chapter 1

Even before Albert walked in on the dead body, his day wasn’t going well.

His good uniform shirt hadn’t dried properly the night previous, so he had to go with his old one that was a little bit too small in all the wrong places. The department was out of his favorite green tea, which meant he had to settle for that fucking dirt coffee Kelly and Conlon kept around for “sanity”. And he’d been late on his lunch break, since Chief Roosevelt stuck Cortez’s paperwork on him last minute.

So, when he ventured into the bathroom of his favorite sandwich shop, only to find a fresh corpse and more blood than he ever really cared to see propped up neatly on the toilet, all he could find in himself to do was sigh. And gag a little, but that was a given.

The coppery smell of blood and freshly shut down internal organs cuts brutally through the air and Albert reaches under his button down to pull his undershirt over his nose as he dials Spot’s number.

As his phone’s ringing, Albert takes the time to steel himself and assess the body, first checking the pockets for any kind of identification. When all he comes up with are a couple candy wrappers and a condom, he sighs again. So, they’ll have to do this the hard way. Typical.

“Yo, Dasilva, how’s the meatball sub?”

Albert gags again. The last thing he wants to think about right now is his abandoned meat sandwich covered in red sauce. No, nope. Not right now.

“Yeah, uh, no,” Albert says, leaning back on his haunches, “We got a 10-54, possible homicide- multiple stab wounds to the chest and stomach. I’m gonna need backup down here.”

There’s a pause, then Albert hears Spot groan, “And you’re still at Gianno’s?”

“Unfortunately.”

There’s a pause and Albert can picture Spot rubbing his eyes, “Fuck, okay, me and some others’ll be there soon.”

The line goes dead with a click and Albert casts another cursory look over the body. Dilated eyes stare back at him, a slack jaw giving way to a bluish, swollen looking tongue. He scrunches his nose, feeling a little dizzy.

“Bruh, you’re lookin’ rough.”

The body does not answer.

The victim, Albert learns upon returning to the precinct, is some low level reporter for one of the smaller newspapers in New York: the Brooklyn Eagle.

“Frank Wiesel, but folks call him Weasel. Fitting, too. The guys a biased asshole, apparently. Republican, Conservative, the works. Probably would fit in better with Fox News instead of a city newspaper, but…”

Spot leans back in his seat, tossing down the manilla case file and taking a long drink from his “10-4 Coffee That” mug. It’s a stupid mug, but Spot has worshipped it since Jack had passed it over one Christmas Eve in the department, and honestly, Albert hasn’t seen him nearly as passionate over anything, so he bites his tongue.

“An asshole, huh?” Albert pulls the case file towards himself and flips it open, eyes scanning the scowling face of Wiesel, “Anyone in particular who would have it out for him? Or is he more of a generally known bastard type.”

“Hard to say,” Spot says, “He wrote some pretty nasty stuff about a few left leaning politicians in the area and got some pretty bad backlash because of that. Plus his general lack of a filter’s gotten him kicked out of bars here and there around Manhattan, so…”

Albert hums, scrunching his nose. Wiesel really is ugly. All 1940s mobster with a stupid bowler hat and beady eyes, mouth turned down under a ratty handlebar mustache, “Has the autopsy come back yet?”

“They’re finishing up the toxicology report,” Spot says, “S’taking a little longer than usual, ‘cause Mush suspects something mighta been up with the vic’s blood.”

“Poison?”

“Maybe,” Spot shrugs and pours himself more coffee. Albert eyes him, wondering how many cups he’s had today and vacantly wondering if Spot would be off put by him taking the pot and drinking directly from it.

“Has the wait staff at Gianno’s been questioned yet?”

“Mostly,” Spot answers. The look in his eye tells Albert that he’s about to drop something pivotal.

He cocks his head, “Mostly?”

“One waiter went home right before the murder occured. Claimed a migraine.”

Albert’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. Now that is interesting, “And nobody fucking thought to bring this guy in?”

XXX

The waiter- Antonio Higgins, according to the file Katherine handed off to Albert and Spot- lives in an older looking apartment complex a few blocks down from Gianno’s. Despite the slightly dilapidated exterior, the place has a pleasant enough, homey sort of vibe. The vague smell of pasta sauce wafts through the air, assaulting their nostrils the moment they step into the building. Distinct Italian villa music plays in soft undertones through the lobby and the walls are adorned with various renaissance-era paintings.

Albert and Spot exchange a short glance, raising their eyebrows slightly before approaching the front desk. The lady behind the counter is a stout, but demanding woman, her eyes lined with harsh black rouge and hand gesturing wildly as she speaks on the phone in rapid fire Italian. A quick glance towards her name tag tells Albert that her name is Maria, which fits her whole Italian mother look. Albert watches, bemused, as she looks at them inquisitively, then at the badges on their shirts and rolls her eyes, firing off a few more sentences into the receiver before hanging up the landline and placing it back on its phone stand.

“Yes, hello officers, how may I help you?” Her heavily accented voice is tinged with annoyance and Albert sees Spot shoot him another glance in his peripheral.

Inwardly, Albert sighs. He’s never understood why people can’t just be cooperative.

“Hi, ma’am, sorry for the inconvenience,” He trains his voice into something resembling empathy and plasters his most charming smile onto his face. She doesn’t look amused, “I’m Detective DaSilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon. We’re here from the 17th precinct investigating a case regarding the tragedy that occurred over in Gianno’s earlier today and one of the waitstaff there, Antonio Higgins, lives here in your building. We’ve got a few questions for him, so if you could do us the courtesy of buzzing us up to his room, that would be greatly appreciated.”

Maria’s eyes widen and when she speaks, the previous irritation is absent, “Tonio? Is he in trouble? That boy is the sweetest thing, so helpful. There’s no way he could be who you are looking for.”

Albert tries to soften his expression, “He’s in no trouble yet, ma’am, I assure you. We’re just following protocol and questioning all employees at Gianno’s. He went home a little before the incident occurred, so we were not able to question him with the rest of the waitstaff.”

Maria looks a little relieved at this, but her sternness is back when she says, “Alright, I will buzz you up, but don’t do anything to hurt my dear Tonio. He’s had a tough year and I’d hate for some pish posh detectives to upset him further.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Spot says, amicably.

Maria picks up the phone again, presumably to call Higgins’ room and Spot looks at Albert, mouthing, ‘tough year?’ Albert shrugs and shakes his head, turning back to Maria as she hangs up the phone with a friendly, “Si, si, abbi cura, tesoro.”

“Okay,” She says dismissively, waving her hand as she picks up a pen and starts scribbling on some papers, “You can go up. Elevators are around the corner. Tonio lives on the 7th floor, room 712B.”

They thank her and head towards the elevators, relieved to find the one that picks them up to be empty.

“I wonder what this Higgins dude’s been through for the fuckin’ receptionist to be that protective,” Spot says, pressing the button for the seventh floor and wincing when the elevator groans as it begins to ascend.

“Yeah, me too,” Albert agrees, “Sounded kind of cryptic, too. Hope he’s in a good enough headspace to be helpful.”

And it’s true. The more fucked up the suspect, the less willing they are to talk. Vexation is one of the many banes of Albert’s existence. They arrive at the floor and find room 712B at the end of the hallway. Spot knocks and in less time than they anticipated, the door swings open to reveal a tired looking man. He’s a bit taller than either of them with curly blond hair that sits like a mop on top of his head. His blue eyes are accentuated by the bruise-like bags that sit underneath and the pallor of his skin makes it look like he’s sick; or was sick. With a wince, Albert remembers that this guy had supposedly gone home with a migraine earlier.

“Officers,” The man- Antonio- greets tiredly. He looks bored at their presence and leans his shoulder casually on the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His grey t-shirt stretches obscenely over well-muscled arms and Albert swallows. Spot snorts next to him.

Recovering, Albert flashes him a quick smile, “Antonio, right? I’m Detective Dasilva and this is my partner, Detective Conlon. I’m assuming you’re aware of the incident that occurred over at Gianno’s earlier today?”

Antonio’s bored expression doesn’t waver, but when he sighs, it sounds shaky, “‘Course I heard. Business is about to go to shit ‘cause of it, too. No one’s gonna wanna come to a murder scene to eat, so bye-bye good paychecks.”

“Right, I apologise for that,” Albert continues, “But we’ve gotta ask you a few questions regarding the case.”

Antonio’s eyebrows shoot up, “Am I a suspect?”

“Everyone’s a suspect until we find the culprit,” Spot says evenly.

“Right…” Antonio sighs again, “Okay, come in I guess.”

He opens the door wider to allow them to enter and turns to walk into the apartment, flicking on a few lights along the way. Albert follows him, noting how excessively clean the apartment is as he makes his way to the kitchen where Antonio is opening a pill bottle and throwing back a few pills, washing them down with what Albert assumes is coffee. Spot joins him in the mouth of the kitchen, looking as hesitant as Albert feels. Antonio looks at them, lips quirking upwards into something like a smirk.

“Want anything to drink?” He offers, “I’ve got water, coffee, milk...if you’re weird like that.”

“We’re good, thank you,” Spot declines, stepping further into the kitchen and leaning against one of the counters.

Albert follows suit, noting with a frown that everything here is impeccably organized as well. A neat row of cookbooks are pressed against the fridge, descending in order from thickest to thinnest. The counters are bare and shiny, boasting no crumbs or residue. Kitchen appliances line the walls neatly, also showing barely any sign of use. Albert suspects if they opened up the fridge and the cabinets, they’d find neatly stacked dishes and immaculately organized silverware.

Antonio shrugs, sipping again from his coffee mug, “Suit yourself.”

“Okay,” Spot pulls out his pocket notebook, flipping it open to a blank page and clicking his pen against his chest, “So you claimed to have gone home around 12:20 with a migraine. Did you take any detours on the way home?”

Antonio’s jaw clenches, “Well, seeing as my head was trying to kill me from the inside out, I wasn’t very keen on going window shopping, so…”

Albert hears Spot blow out a breath through his nose, “I need a direct answer here, sir, if you could please.”

Antonio rolls his eyes, “Yes, I came straight home.”

Undeterred, Spot plows on, “Did you have any connections to the victim, Frank Wiesel? Was he a regular customer that you knew of? Anything of that sort?”

“Fuckin’ Weasel was the one to get his ass smoked?” Antonio says, nostrils flaring.

“So you did know the victim,” Albert says.

“Yeah, I fuckin’ knew him. Worked with my Pa for a while, before leaving him in the dust to go work for some hotshot newspaper. Asshole if I ever knew him,” Antonio shakes his head, laughing dryly, “‘Bout time he met his maker.”

“Okay, don’t say that to any officer about a murder vic,” Albert admonishes, “And you said he worked with your dad? What did they do together?”

Antonio shifts, suddenly looking uncomfortable, “I don’t really know, but my Pa never liked him much. Always complained about how he was tryna ‘do him in for a big one’ whatever that means. I think it had something to do with accounting, but I’m not entirely certain.”

Spot’s nodding, scribbling rapidly in his notebook, “You met him, yes?”

“Few times,” Antonio says, “ornery fucker. Homophobic, too. That was the only front he and my Pa ever agreed on it seemed. Which worked wonderfully in my favor.” He says that last part sarcastically and Albert sends a brief look to Spot who grimaces.

“Where’s your dad now?” Albert asks. The situation Antonio’s painted for his involvement with Wiesel sounds like a breeding ground for motives- if not from him directly, then his father.

“Dead,” Antonio smiles bitterly, “Was fighting cancer for a while and finally kicked the can ‘bout three months ago.”

There’s a tense pause and Spot clears his throat, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Antonio snorts and Albert senses his frustration building.

“And you were here, in this apartment building, when the murder occurred say around...12:50?”

Antonio blinks, “I already told you I came straight home,” he pauses, “I didn’t fuckin’ kill Weasel.”

“We’re not saying-”

Antonio scoffs, “Kind of sounds like you are. We done here? ‘Cause as you seemed to know, I went home because of a migraine, which is still fucking me up. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep.”

“Yes, my apologies,” Albert says, sensing that they weren’t going to get anything else out of this visit. He nudges Spot, beginning to back out of the kitchen. Antonio follows them to the door, watching warily as they step out, “Thank you for your time. I appreciate your cooperation. We’ll probably be back sometime this week for a few follow up questions.”

Antonio wrinkles his nose, “Wonderful.”

The door shuts with a resounding click and Albert and Spot stare at it for a long moment.

“Well…” Spot starts.

“Yeah,” Albert says, “There’s some digging to do here.”

“Sure is.”

They begin to retreat back towards the elevators.

“You gotta be careful, though.” Spot says, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

“About what?”

“You were totally hot for him.”

Albert thunks his head against the elevator wall, groaning, “Man, shut up.”

Spot just laughs.

i actually know where this one is heading plot wise, so...,.,

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

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#newsies #newsies fic #ralbert #albert dasilva #spot conlon #racetrack higgins #hehe

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calliecat93 · 4 years

Text

Top 5 Things I Disliked About Red vs Blue: Season 2

When I decided to do this series, I knew it was gonna be hard to do lists for Blood Gulch. Not because I can’t think of anything I like or dislike specifically, but as I said before, BGC is mainly comedic driven. The worst I can say is ‘this isn’t funny’ and critique the earlier production standards. Which that’s kinda mean since they were working with what they had and trying to learn to do the show. As such, I have to reach on Dislikes for these and S2 was a tough one in that regard. I managed to come up with five, but GOD I had to stretch haaaard on it.

But still, I did it. Just remember, take this with a grain of salt. So here we go, Top 5 Things I Disliked About RvB S2.

#5. Doc

If you asked me which of the BGC to write out and never bring back… I’d probably have to pick Doc. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate him, but I’ve also never loved him. He comes off more whiny than funny, and most of the time he’s only funny due to the back and forth with O’Malley. Otherwise, usually… he’s just there. Even here in S2, while having a pacifist medic in a cast where several are trigger happy could lead to some funny stuff, Doc was just an annoyance. The situations he got into were funny, like getting knocked into the Warthog when the Blues unknowingly made it go rogue, but he was literally just there for the ride. Something IDT later season really improved aside form 16 and 17, which tbh I think is stretching it.

IDK, I just find Doc whiny and kinda boring. Even if he’s meant to be the annoying, disrespected nice guy, doesn't Donut kinda fit that slot already? Heck, they both even have the recurring ‘disappear for seasons and then suddenly comes back’ joke. The only times that I feel invested in Doc is when he has O’Malley, which is how he re-entered the plot here. I’m gonna save more about that in the S3 posts, but on his own? Doc just… doesn’t really work and I didn’t really miss him in between the Reds dumping him and him reappearing when O’Malley infected him. It’s also a flaw IDT recent seasons have really fixed, though they are trying. Plus I don’t hate Doc and some jokes with him do work (the gag of his naming made me giggle), I'm just… indifferent. But that’s why he’s at the top of the list since the most I can say is I find him whiny and not as funny,

#4. The Cyborg Subplot

So due to losing Lopez and because he’s Sarge, Sarge decides to turn one of the Reds into a cyborg to do all the stuff that Lopez did. He settles on Simmons. Now in and of itself, the subplot is fine. It leads to a good few jokes, like Grif trying to ruin Simmons’ parts after the surgery or a few gags like Simmons shooting his own foot and of course, faxass. While IDT the season would have been hurt without it, it has plenty of funny bits. Sow hat’s the problem. Well… like I said, cutting it wouldn’t have hurt anything. It kinda is just there to give the Reds something to do during the O’Malley and Tex stuff since otherwise, they’d just be standing around and taking… well, more than normal. Otherwise, it’s only significance plot-wise is Tucker tuning into their frequency, which is important in the finale when he picks up Vic and Sarge’s conversation.

So yeah, the subplot isn’t all that important. But it is still funny, so I don't mind it being there. But nowadays… how much so we see this come up? I mean Grif got mutilated by a tank and got another guy’s body/organs haphazardly stitched on. Simmons, while he possibly gave up those parts to Grif willingly, was otherwise forcibly converted into a cyborg. This… hasn’t really come up again. I mean the only time I think Simmons mentioned it in-show was as a brief joke in S11. Nine seasons later. I don’t think Grif’s side of it has come up at all ever again. Though… considering you can only get so many jokes out of this setup since everyone is always in armor, I do understand why. Though I feel with Simmons’ side at least, they could play with it some more, both comedically and maybe even storywise. But that may be my need for Simmons content talking…

So yeah, the subplot was okay. It’s at Number Four since I don’t hate it and it was funny. I just feel like nothing would be lost without it, especially since it pretty much never comes up again. Maybe one day though, who knows? At least the fanfic writers keep it alive XD

#3. The Caboose Forgetting Church Thing

Okay this is brief, but it does annoy me. During the whole trip into Caboose’s mind, Caboose’s memory of Church gets shot. As such, Caboose forgets who Church is. Makes sense, O’Malley killed the personification of Church in Caboose’s mind, so his mind would forget it. It also explains why Caboose got, well… for lack of a better way to put it, intellectually challenged later on due to having three AI’s in his brain and all the chaos that broke out. But Caboose forgetting Church lasts like… one episode? Maybe two? Anyways, Burnie explained on the commentary that it was just too hard to write out so they did one joke with it, and then just dropped it. Probably for the best... but then we have to figure out how this works in-continuity... damn it.

Really this is only on here because it forces me to try to figure out how this is possible in a show sense. Which yeah I probably don’t need to, but I am a continuity loser who tries to piece together these things. If I had to guess, maybe the memory of Church fixed itself somehow or Caboose was able to recall after being around Church for a little while. But I honestly really don’t know, and trying to think it through hurts my brain. It also did little to nothing either story-wise or comedy-wise, at least we got a few jokes out of the cyborg subplot. IDK, I feel like they gave up on it too soon. But then again this is the saga where they’ll break/ignore continuity for the sake of a joke and that’s just how these seasons worked. Hence why I put it smack-dab in the middle.

#2. Some Holdover S1 Issues

You can tell that there was a mass improvement in terms of production for Season Two. Pacing felt stronger, more was going on, characterizations began to settle in, and they even began to form more of a plot. They clearly had a much better idea of what they were doing now that they got through Season One and I think things like Matt becoming more involved in writing and production as well as Gus moving back to work on the show really helped as well. That being said, not everything got resolved. Most did, but there are still a few holdouts.

Audio mixing is a LOT better, especially when it comes to effects. The filter is still a little distracting, though better compared to S1. Not all the characterizations really set in. Grif and Donut are about 75% there and Simmons and Tucker are probably the least set in stone. The traits are there, like Simmons clinginess to Sarge and Tucker actually showing some competence when forced to, but nothing set in stone. Donut’s also on the right path with his hobbies and tendency to babble into TMI territory, but the voice is still off and his personality isn’t quite there yet. There’s some other, but I’ll touch on it in the Likes list. Some jokes could also still drag, like the whole switch joke where some of Church and Tucker’s back and forth went on a little too long.

We’re clearly making progress, but the mark hasn’t quite been hit. It’s still an improvement over S1 though, the pacing especially. This is nitpicky, but still it’s there. But hey it’s progress, and that is never a bad thing. So yeah, RvB is still evolving here, but the progress bar is loading steadily and trust me, by S3 I think we’ll be settled in… well, for the most part.

#1. Some Outdated Humor

The BGC was made from 2003 to 2007. Obviously, there’s gonna be some stuff that is outdated. Take the graphics themselves for example. Halo has evolved, so the game can look a little outdated, especially when you compare the original footage to the remastered footage. Let's put it this way, VIC is uncanny in the remaster… and is utterly horrifying in the original version. Thank God that the DVD is the remaster and I was spared of looking at that monstrosity. Visuals aren’t the only thing though, some pop culture references can also come off as outdated, like Creed joke in the RL vs Internet PSA. So can some of the humor that shows how stupid we were back only two decades ago.

There are… some jokes that are uncomfortable to listen to. For example, there’s the Grif shaming himself joked by saying he’s a girl and likes ribbons in his hair. It’s not the worst joke and clearly, it isn’t made to offend… but nowadays I think it could look offensive to certain individuals. It didn’t necessarily offend me, but it did kinda make me feel uncomfortable when I first watched it, but it could be me thinking it over too hard. There’s also the casual usage of the R word. Last season it came up a bit, but I noticed it came up more frequently here. Not excessively, but there were quite a few instances where it was treated as a casual curse word. Obviously back in 2004 we didn’t realize this was an offensive term, and I think they’ve even said that they regret the casual usage of it during the early years. You certainly would probably not hear that word used unless maybe to emphasize how terrible a character is, but even then I think they’d be more careful.

Now obviously RvB uses a lot of adult and offensive humor, especially in this era. I guess you can kinda call it the web version of South Park, only RvB has never really resorted to shock humor. It puts it above many, /many/ animated adult comedies in that regard. Still, when you run for this long, you’re gonna have some outdated elements. It’s not necessarily their fault, it just shows that times has changed. Still, it does make some stuff hard to look back on without cringing, and I imagine that the Founders would agree. So yeah… there’s just some stuff that wasn't fun to look back over and S2 isn’t the only offender, but this was where it stood out to me and took me out of the moment. As such, it is Number One.

(Top 5 Likes)

#rvb #rvb reviews #top likes/dislikes

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eddycurrents · 5 years

Photo

The Visitor: How & Why He Stayed - Chapter Two

Words: Mike Mignola & Chris Roberson | Art: Paul Grist | Colours: Bill Crabtree | Letters: Clem Robins

Originally published by Dark Horse in The Visitor: How & Why He Stayed #2 | March 2017

Collected in The Visitor: How & Why He Stayed

Plot Summary:

The Visitor continues to check in on Hellboy, scuttle some Ogdru Hem cultist butt, and seems to be integrating into human society.

Reading Notes:

(Note: Pagination is solely in reference to the chapter itself and is not indicative of anything within the issue or collections.)

pg. 1 - I didn’t say it last chapter, but I love the design for the Visitor’s human guise. It’s somewhat reminiscent of the Phantom Stranger or Mister E, in the simple hat and coat, but the contrast of the white and black really makes it stand out.

pg. 2 - That “Michael Mathers” has a wife is great. Having a family gives the Visitor even more purpose in staying on Earth and investing in humanity’s success.

pg. 3 - This bit makes you wonder how much she knows about the Visitor’s “business”. Also, the “right on schedule” bit seems to suggest that the Visitor may have even more information on Hellboy’s history than we thought. That the aliens didn’t just know about Hellboy’s destiny, but possibly all of the events in his life.

pg. 4 - Hellboy and the Bureau against a giant armadillo is awesome.

pg. 5 - “Vic” is Victor Koestler. He actually first appeared in Hellboy and the BPRD: 1954 - The Unreasoning Beast a few months before this issue, but due to the collection releases we got this one first. It still serves as a decent introduction to what he can do and a good sign that he’s still with the Bureau ten years later.

Also, astral gorillas are just awesome.

pg. 7 - I quite like the distinction that the Visitor makes regarding the “goodness of humanity”. That it’s not innate in the species, but must be learned. I’d consider that point arguable, I think it’s rather hate that has to be learned, but that that hate can often override reason, giving way to baser instincts of violence.

pg. 8-10 - This scene of how “Michael Mathers” met his wife is wonderfully done. Especially as it’s triggered by a similar altercation in the story’s “present” to tie things together. I also just love the grey wash that Crabtree uses for the scene.

pg. 12 - Of course there are backwoods Ogdru Hem worshippers.

pg. 13 - Really bloody stupid backwoods Ogdru Hem worshippers. They really don’t seem to know what they’re getting into.

Also, I love the transformation of the poor calf into the monster. Great design from Grist.

pg. 14 - The Ogdru Hem being utterly confused and somewhat irritated by the worshippers is hilarious.

pg. 15 - Nice to see him taking down some of the early eruptions of worship.

pg. 18 - I love Grist’s use of negative space here. Utilizing it as the door and door frame really gives this scene a look of stepping from something into something else, especially as it seems to be giving you the impression that Ruby should be shocked by the Visitor’s appearance.

pg. 20 - The whole fake out was wonderfully executed.

pg. 22 - This feels ominous.

Final Thoughts:

It’s very interesting to see this develop further outside of just watching Hellboy. It certainly makes sense, since just stalking Hellboy would be creepy and probably boring, but it adds another element to the overall story. Through dealing with Ogdru Hem spirits being raised and other shenanigans it adds more purpose to what the Visitor is doing. Then adding a family adds a personal reason to stay and fight for humanity. It also likely adds potential conflict down the road.

d. emerson eddy thinks that making fun of and castigating immigrants simply for being immigrants is wrong. Stop that crap.

#Give 'em Hellboy #Hellboy #The Visitor #How & Why He Stayed #Mike Mignola #Chris Roberson #Paul Grist #RaisingHellboy #340

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robronsecretsanta · 5 years

Photo

THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS

For the wonderful @sugden-dinglefirst. I hope you have the most amazing Christmas!

Just under a year ago his life changed. He met the man of his dreams on a flight home from Paris, like something out of the latest blockbuster romcom. Nothing could spoil it. Ok, maybe one thing could.

His boyfriend hated Christmas.

It’s their first one together, it had been just after Christmas the year before when they’d met on the flight, discovering they were both from the same village and spending the whole time talking. Now they were together, freshly moved into their own flat just a few days until Christmas and he was ready to decorate, which was when he hit an Aaron shaped brick wall.

“I don’t do Christmas.” Arms folded, face set in a scowl, staring at the pile of boxes that he’d bought that morning to go alongside the ones he’d had for years and had liberated from the loft at his sister’s. It’s his no arguing face and Robert’s seen it enough times to know his mind won’t change, but this is different. “You’re not putting those up.”

“But…everyone has Christmas decorations.” He was late putting them up, the house only just how they wanted it after the move, so it was all a bit last minute.

“Don’t think they do. I’m not kidding, Robert. I don’t want them here.” With that he picks up his jacket and leaves, door slamming behind him, leaving Robert standing there shocked and confused.

It’s dark when he comes back, Robert not saying anything still not sure what’s going on. He stays on the sofa, doesn’t get up to greet him like he usually would, can still sense the tension coming off him. He sees when Aaron notices the boxes have gone. They’re only in the spare room because he’s not giving in but leaving them where they were wouldn’t do any good.

“Where did you go?”

“Nowhere, just walking around. I shouldn’t have stormed out.”

“You want to talk?” It’s like poking a sleeping bear, he knows that but they’d agreed when they moved in not to go to sleep on an argument.

“Not about this. I’m going to bed.”

He lets him go, potters about downstairs until he thinks Aaron’s asleep. He had all these plans, their first Christmas in their own house was going to be so good, and now they were barely speaking. Eventually he can’t put it off any longer and he locks up and heads upstairs. Aaron’s curled up in bed, buried in the covers. He can tell he’s awake but he doesn’t speak, just gets undressed before climbing in beside him.

“Stop staring.”

“I thought you were asleep.” He rolls on his back, propping himself up on the pillows. They’re having this out one way or another because there’s no way he’s sleeping like this.

“Nope.”

“In that case are you going to talk to me, because I know you and this is not just you being grumpy, is it?” He hears Aaron sigh in the darkness and then silence. He thinks he’s gone back to sleep despite his words.

“Why can’t you just leave it? It’s just a stupid holiday.”

“Because…well, it’s Christmas. It’s our first one together, it’s special. Just…tell me why?”

He doesn’t speak for the longest time and Robert’s astute enough not to push any more. If he does Aaron will clam up completely and they’ll get nowhere.

“I didn’t have the childhood you did, Robert, you know that. Before Mum left she tried, I know she did but all I remember is the arguing, curling up under the covers listening to them shouting. Then she just wasn’t there anymore.” He didn’t need to go any further and Robert can’t help climbing onto the bed beside him, taking his hand, just wanting to be close.

“But since then…when you came back here. I mean, your lot are known for their parties.”

“When I came here no one even wanted me. I was a pain in the arse kid who no one wanted. First Christmas I was here I ended up drinking out by the lake. Has Vic ever told you about finding a body when she fell through the ice?” He just nods because he doesn’t want Aaron to stop talking. “The next year Mum was off with Carl King and I was with Paddy, and he was great but he didn’t really want me there, not then. The next year Jackson…”

“You don’t have to…” He was beginning to regret ever bringing it up now, could see tears in the corner of Aaron’s eyes but he knew if he reached out it wouldn’t be welcome.

“I do. You wanted to know so I’ll tell you. Me and Ed, we were settled by Christmas, that first year and he went all out. There was tinsel and lights everywhere. I helped and it was fun you know? Then on Christmas morning there was a water leak, the whole place was flooded and everything was ruined.”

“That was just an accident.” Aaron just shook his head and pulled his hands away.

“The next year Ed moved out on Christmas Eve, and then last year I was fired. This stupid holiday is just cursed.” He looks over at Robert, arms folded. “You can tell me how ridiculous I’m being now.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He pulled Aaron closer, waiting until he relaxed against him. “You’re right you know, those Christmases sucked.”

“So you get it now? Why I can’t celebrate.”

“I didn’t say that. Look, I’m not going to force you to celebrate, not if you’re really against it…I just…will you let me try and show you how much fun it can be?”

“No Robert! The whole thing is stupid…every year, something bad happens. I just told you!”

“Just give me a chance. Look, there’s what, five days left? Just let me show you. If you still don’t want to celebrate then I’ll let it go. Just give me a chance to give you the perfect Christmas.”

“Robert…”

“No, come on, there’s loads we can do.” His mind was working overtime as he tried to come up with ideas, seeing that Aaron was mildly interested despite his protests.

“Like what?”

“Like, decorating the tree, maybe the Christmas market if it’s still on, stuff like that. Just give it a chance. We’re both off work. Let me show you.” Aaron looks sceptical but Robert knows him well enough that he can see he’ll agree, even if he’ll do it as reluctantly as he can. “Just a few days. If you still hate it then next year I won’t say a word.”

“Fine! If it’ll shut you up. Don’t go getting your hopes up.”

“Hmm, we’ll see.” He can’t help smiling at the grumpy look on Aaron’s face, but it’s not the same as it was before, he’s trying his hardest not to smile. Now he knows he won’t be rebuffed if he reaches up to kiss him. “Goodnight my little grinch.”

“Shut up.”

*****

The next morning he’s up before Aaron as usual and he slips out of bed as quietly as he can, not wanting to wake him before he can put his plan into action.

By the time Aaron stumbles down the stairs everything is ready. He’s moved all the boxes back into the living room. It might be a risky strategy starting with the thing that set the argument off in the first place, but he’ll take the chance.

“What’s going on?” He’s adorably confused, still half asleep, scrubbing at his eyes with his hands and gazing around. Robert’s made breakfast and he hands him his mug of tea with a kiss.

“First step to a perfect Christmas is decorating the tree. Eat up, then we’re going to pick one. There’s a place up on Connelton Road. It won’t take long.”

“God, you were serious, weren’t you?”

“I’m not going to force you to come with me. I thought it might be fun, that’s all.” He sets his knife and fork down, heart sinking. Maybe it was a stupid idea, if Aaron was so set on not enjoying it. He just wanted to share some of the things he remembered from being a kid with him.

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” He nods, the words not coming to him. “Fine. You’re hoovering up the needles though.”

“Expert now, are ya?”

“Eat your breakfast before I change my mind.”

He can’t help laughing at Aaron’s scowl as they get out of the car at the garden centre. It’s started drizzling with rain and yes it’s freezing, but the bobble hat and thick scarf is overkill in his opinion.

“So, what now?”

“Now we find the perfect tree. I’ve measured the space we’ve got and I think a six foot should be plenty. You’re not following any of this are you?”

“It’s a tree…I didn’t know there was so much involved.”

“We want it to be right though. Come on.” He grabs his hand, leading him over to the selection of trees already picking out a few that he wants to look at. Aaron’s right, a fake tree would be easier and less mess, but he wants it all to be perfect and he remembers the real trees from his childhood and how good they looked.

Aaron doesn’t say much as he makes his selection, but he sees him watching, gaze a mix of curious and fed up. He speeds up making his choice, not wanting to spoil it because Aaron was in a mood.

“This one. Looks good, don’t you think?”

“Uh…yeah. It’s a tree Robert, with needles and branches. What else do you need?” He’s got his hands stuffed into his pockets and he’s scuffing his boots on the gravel looking thoroughly annoyed.

“It has to be the right shape and that. If you’re fed up you can wait in the car.” Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised at Aaron’s mood, but he thought he would at least try a bit harder. He must sense Robert’s frustration because when he looks back round he’s gone. Sighing he goes inside to pay for the tree and when it’s safely tucked in the car, the boot strapped down he gets in beside Aaron.

“Sorry.” He looks a little sheepish, nose still red from the cold, hair all over the place thanks to his hat, and Robert can’t help but smile. “I’ll try harder.”

“I guess this isn’t the most exciting thing to do. Decorating it will be better. We’ll start after lunch, yeah?”

*****

“We should’ve bought more lights while we were out.” He turns round from making tea to see Aaron sat on the floor cross legged, fighting one of the sets of lights that hadn’t been packed away properly. They’d got right to it, getting the tree in place with minimal complaining. “These are crap…and well…look!”

“That’s cheating. It’s not Christmas unless you’ve swore at tangled lights at least once.” He sits beside him, nudging him with his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

“Yeah. You can do these though.” He dumps the lights on his lap with a grin.

By the time the lights are untangled, ready to be put onto the tree, Slade are hanging up their stocking and he can tell Aaron’s starting to lose his patience. He’s lasted longer than he’d expected though. Much longer.

“Mum and I used to do this. Andy was never bothered, he was always helping Dad, so me and Vic would help Mum decorate the tree and then she’d make hot chocolate for us all.”

“Sounds nice.” He sounds wistful and Robert could kick himself. Aaron didn’t have any of that and here he was going on.

“Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this.” He gets up, starting to wind the lights around the branches, halting when Aaron’s hands rest on his shoulders.

“Yes I do. I want you to share your memories with me. That’s part of all this, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is.” He steps back. “There, switch them on, make sure they’re all spaced out.”

“You’re going to be annoying about this aren’t you? I know, I know, it has to be perfect.”

It doesn’t take them long to put all the baubles on the tree, the silence broken occasionally by Robert telling Aaron a story about one of them, or a memory that had come to him.

“It looks good.” Aaron announces, putting his arm around his waist once they’ve packed the boxes away.

“It’ll look even better later when the lights are on and it’s dark. So, as bad as you thought?”

“I’m still expecting something to go wrong but not as bad as I thought. Stupid huh?”

“It’s not.” He presses a kiss to his forehead.

“So tomorrow?” He might think this a waste of time but there was still a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“You’ll see!” He laughs before kissing him again.

*****

“Robert it’s too early for this.” It’s not early at all in fact. They’ve been in bed all morning, everytime he tried to get up Aaron dragged him back to bed.

“It’s lunchtime! We want to get there before the rush. I’ve got a list so we can get everything done without wasting too much time and the market is more than just shopping.” He checked his pockets for his keys and wallet, glancing over at Aaron who looked marginally less grumpy than he had on their expedition to get the tree. “Well?”

“You didn’t mention shopping yesterday!”

“It’s not shopping, there’s loads to do. It’ll be fun.” Aaron’s face shows just how unconvinced he is. “You don’t have to come if you really don’t want to.”

“I said I’d do this, didn’t I?”

“There’s no point if you’re just going to be miserable about it. We might as well stay at home.” He unwraps his scarf, sighing.

“I can’t help how I feel Robert!”

“It’s a holiday Aaron. Don’t you think you’re being a little over the top?”

“You’re the one wanting the house to look like Santa threw up all over it.” He can’t help it, bursts out laughing at Aaron’s face.

“I’m sorry. I mean it, if you don’t want to go you don’t have to.” He says again when their laughter has died down.

“No, I said I would but…there’s one thing I hate more than Christmas, and that’s shopping. But, I’m here and I’m willing to do it, for you. So let’s go, yeah?”

The drive to Leeds is quiet and Robert’s heart sinks a little when he sees the crowds as they approach the market. He gives it an hour before Aaron’s complaining and wanting to go home.

“Right so I need something for Diane, and your Mum. Then maybe we can find stuff for the house?”

“We decorated yesterday! You want more?”

“Just if we see something. Maybe something we buy together, you know, for our first Christmas?” Aaron turns his head away but not before Robert sees the slight smile on his face.

“You’re the boss.” That gets him a smug grin before Robert loops his arm with Aaron’s, gently leading him to the first stall that catches his eye.

It’s a fair success he admits to himself as he watches Aaron sip at his mulled wine. He looks happy enough, he’s not complained anyway and the alcohol will likely help. He’s already sampled some of the beer on offer.

“Alright?” He tips his head back slightly as he approaches from making the last of his purchases, Aaron leaning against a lamp post listening to the brass band playing. “Having fun?”

“Mmm. I remember this carol from school. I sang it once, you know those concerts at Christmas. Mum was there, I think.” Robert kisses his forehead, trying to clear the frown.

“Gran would sing it to me. It’s nice.” He leans closer to him, winding an arm around his waist.

“Here, try this.” He takes the cup from him, enjoying the lightness in his eyes despite the frown that was there before. He’s happy, that’s the most important thing.

“It’s good. You about ready to go?” Aaron nods but Robert can’t help noticing his gaze landing on the brightly lit carousel as they turn towards the carpark. “You want to go on it?”

“What? No! It’s for kids.”

“Who says? Come on, I’m not going on my own.” He grabs his hand, pulling him over to the ride. Luckily the queue wasn’t too long and it wasn’t more than minutes before they were bickering over which horse they should sit on. Aaron of course managed to get the lower one, leaving Robert having to jump onto the one next to him. “If I break your Mum’s present doing this I’m making you come back tomorrow!”

“You’re only jealous.” Aaron yells back.

It’s the most fun he’s had in ages, and if the smile on Aaron’s face is anything to go by it’s been a success.

*****

“Cookies.” He announces before Aaron’s even reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’re making cookies today. Mum and I always used to make them together. Then we’d put on a Christmas film and lie in front of the TV with the cookies and hot chocolate.” His head is half in the cupboards digging out the ingredients. When he turns round Aaron’s just staring at him. “What?”

“Not today.”

“What? You said you’d try.”

“Enough, alright! Just stop with the festive cheer crap.” He’s at the door before Robert can stop him. “I’m going to work.”

“But you’re off…” The door slams before he can even finish the sentence.

He doesn’t know what’s happened or what he’s done, but he knows better than to follow. Aaron always needs time to calm down before he’ll talk. He spends the time making a batch of cookies, the memories of his Mum flooding back, and he wants nothing more than to share them with Aaron. When they’re done he leaves them cooling before going in search of his boyfriend.

He finds him at the scrapyard slumped on the steps staring into space.

“Budge up.” He sits next to him when Aaron makes space. “What did I do? I thought you enjoyed yesterday?”

“I did.”

“So what happened?”

“I had a nightmare, last night, and it just set me on edge.” He rests forward, elbows on his knees, looking anywhere but at Robert.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Or wake me up?”

“I can’t run to you every time I have a nightmare, like a little kid.” He sounds so annoyed with himself that Robert’s heart breaks a little.

“Why not? That’s what I’m here for.” He wraps an arm around him, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. “I want you to wake me up, ok?”

“Sorry…about today. I just…couldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I, er, made some cookies anyway…you want to go home and crash in front of a film? You can pick.” Aaron nods. “Come on then.”

“With hot chocolate?” Robert just nods, a small smile on his face.

“With hot chocolate.”

Half an hour later he’s making them hot chocolate and plating up the cookies while Aaron searches for a film that they can both agree on.

“I’m sorry I’m being such an idiot about this.” Aaron murmurs, taking a sip of his hot chocolate as Robert hands it to him, settling into the sofa a bit further. “You’re doing all this for me, and I’m being an arse about it.”

“Shall I tell you something? I hate bonfire night. Can’t stand it. Didn’t you think it was odd that I had a meeting instead of going to the village display?”

“Not really…you have meetings all the time!” He shifts on the sofa so he’s facing him properly.

“Not at night.” He used to, before he met Aaron, the wining and dining all fun and games but now all he wanted was to be home with Aaron of an evening.

“Yeah but, it’s to be expected isn’t it…a bonfire, after everything.”

“It’s not that…I mean it is, but it’s not the fire itself. It’s the fireworks. The whine of them, and the noise, it’s like I’m back there, the crackle of the fire, the barn collapsing.” He feels Aaron’s hand on the back of his neck, fingers running through his hair. He knows all of it, what went on, a late night spilling of secrets.

“That’s still…it’s a proper reason, it’s not stupid like my hating Christmas.”

“Nobody said feelings had to be rational. You have your reasons, and none of this is me saying they’re not real, or you should feel stupid…it’s more that I want to show you how good Christmas can be, because you deserve it. You deserve a perfect Christmas.”

“You have done. It was just too much today. This though…this is nice.”

“I do make the best hot chocolate and cookies.”

“Does your ego ever stop?” He laughs and Robert smiles to himself, as he gets the desired response.

“Why would it? Come on, what did you pick?” He nods towards the TV.

“You’ll see.” Robert can’t make out the look on his face but he’s smiling so he settles back beside him, only turning to look at him when he sees what film he’s chosen. “What? You said you liked it.”

“You remembered? That was…I was watching it on the plane!” It was tradition that he watched A Muppet’s Christmas Carol, one started with his Mum and every year he would make time. Last year though he’d been working over Christmas and hadn’t got round to it, so he’d used the flight to do it, which was when Aaron had started talking to him.

“I remembered, because I thought to myself, why was he watching a kids film. Then when you told me about your Mum I wasn’t going to forget.”

“But…you don’t want to watch this. Put something else on.” He tries to grab the remote but Aaron’s having none of it.

“Yes I do.” He reaches behind him to grab the blanket that lay on the back of the sofa, spreading it over the two of them without spilling any of his drink. “Comfy?”

“Love you.” He says as he nods.

“Shush. Watch the film.”

They don’t speak during the film and Robert had expected Aaron to have his phone out after a few minutes but he didn’t. All he felt was Aaron’s arm tightening round him when he wiped away a tear at the memories of his Mum that it always brought back. He’d always done this alone after his Mum died, not wanting to let anyone in, but being here with Aaron felt right.

*****

“So what’s today?”

“Um, Christmas Eve.” Robert rolled over, sure it was too early for riddles.

“Idiot! I mean, what’s next in your big plan?”

“Oh! I hadn’t…I didn’t think you’d want to.” After the day before he’d decided enough was enough. He knew Aaron had enjoyed the film but it had been a long while since he’d had a nightmare and he couldn’t bear if his pushing Aaron to enjoy Christmas had caused them to come back.

“Well…I don’t know…you might be onto something with this. Let’s say I’m more open to the idea than I was before.”

“I don’t need to bother with any more plans then?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m ready to start decking the halls just yet. So, what’s next?”

“I’m not getting any more sleep am I?” He rolled onto his back and sat up, rapidly trying to think of an idea. He truly hadn’t got this far in his plans and now he was at a loss. There was only one thing he could think of.

“Nope. I’ll cook you breakfast, how about that? Then you can tell me your plan. You do have one, right?” Robert laughed because he was acting exactly like…well…a kid at Christmas.

“Yes, Aaron, I have a plan.” Well, he did, it just needed refining, that was all.

*****

“Where are you going?” He turns round from washing the lunch dishes later in the day, wiping his hands on the towel

“Just out. Last minute shopping.”

“On Christmas Eve?” He almost shudders at the thought of it.

“I won’t be long, just a couple of things I need to get.” Aaron tells him, pulling on his coat. “You said we weren’t doing anything until tonight.”

“We’re not. Meet me at the pub then, half five. I thought we’d eat first.”

“And you’re not going to tell me what it is we’re doing?”

“You going to tell me what you’re buying?” Aaron shakes his head laughing. “Then no, I’m not telling you what we’re doing. I’ll see you later.”

*****

As he walks into the pub just after five, it’s busy, everyone seeming to have the same idea as him. He orders two pints from Charity before spying Harriet in the corner.

“Can I?” He gestures to the free chair.

“Oh, yes of course. What can I do for you? Will we be seeing you in church this evening?”

“About that…Could I maybe make a request? A favour if you like.” She nods as he sits down, outlining what he wants. He’s just getting up when Aaron walks in, bags in hand. “Thanks Harriet.”

“Going to tell me what you’re up to yet?” Aaron asks him, in between gulps of his pint as they sit at the bar, all the tables taken. Aaron’s been quiet while they’ve eaten but now he’s full of curiosity.

“Going to tell me what you bought?”

“No.”

“Then, no. Patience my little grinch.”

“Will you stop calling me that!”

*****

“The church? That’s your plan?” He’s stood in the middle of the aisle, just glaring at Robert, hands on hips.

“It’s the carol service. I thought it’d be nice.” The church looks beautiful, lit solely by candles, the Christmas garlands beneath the windows making it cosy. It seems like the whole village is in and they slip into seats near the back, Aaron not letting go of his hand. “Alright?”

“I’m not singing.” He sounds like a sulky teenager.

“Of course not.” And he doesn’t, stands there, hand still in Robert’s but doesn’t sing at all.

It’s right at the end that he finally looks at Robert, recognising the opening bars of the music, and he looks down at the sheet they’d been handed, frown crossing his face, and then back up at Robert when he can’t find it listed.

“You did this?”

“Harriet was happy enough to indulge me.”

“Oh my God you bribed the vicar didn’t you?” He’s smiling again though and Robert lets his hand go to wrap an arm around his waist, pulling him close as the carol continues.

The cattle are lowing The poor baby wakes But little Lord Jesus No crying he makes I love thee Lord Jesus Look down from the sky And stay by my cradle ‘Til morning is nigh

*****

He wakes up on Christmas morning with Aaron wrapped round him like a bloody octopus. He’d known going back to the pub after the service had been a bad idea. It was Pete’s fault really, deciding that Christmas Eve meant shots of what he’s pretty sure was paint stripper in disguise. His head was beating a tattoo and thanks to Aaron he was boiling hot, trapped under the duvet as he was, Aaron’s arms securely wrapped around him.

He’s still not entirely sure what they’re doing for the day. Chas had tried the night before, asking Aaron their plans and would he be putting in an appearance up at Wishing Well. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked, but it was the first since Robert’s grand plan to show him how Christmas should be.

Aaron, a few shots in had just shrugged in that way of his, that could mean yes, or equally get lost. He knew they wouldn’t get away with avoiding Vic and Diane but they wouldn’t be expected to stop, not like the Dingles. Their gatherings were like an exercise in endurance, Robert knew from experience. Then again, a close family wasn’t anything to be sniffed at. He’d nipped to Tesco a few days ago to get them an alternative Christmas lunch just in case Aaron really put his foot down, so they wouldn’t go hungry.

He must fall back to sleep because when he opens his eyes again he’s free to move and he can feel someone watching him. “What time’s it?”

“Christmas time.” No, that’s just unfair. He sounds far too perky considering the night before and he prises his eyes open to see him, fully dressed, blue eyes bright.

“Thought you didn’t like Christmas?” That’s not entirely true anymore, he knows that, but he can’t help teasing him.

“I like you though, don’t I? Come on. Your sister has already been on the phone, wondering where you are.” That makes him look at the clock and he groans seeing it’s only just gone nine.

“She’s an overgrown child I swear. Hey, wait a minute, haven’t you forgotten something?” Aaron shook his head. “I don’t get a present?”

“Maybe if you’re a good boy there’ll be something under the tree for you later.”

“That’s…well fine, but you’re not getting yours either!” Aaron just laughs and gets off the bed, telling him once more to shower. “I suppose a bacon sandwich is out of the question?”

“Depends how fast you can shower. I told her we’d be twenty minutes.” With that he’s gone and Robert feels like he’s woken up in an alternate universe. Aaron was never this happy in the morning.

He feels slightly more human after a shower and breakfast and then they’re out of the house on the way to Vic’s. Aaron’s still acting weird but every time he asks he just gets shushed.

“Have you decided if we’re going to Zak and Lisa’s yet? Because if we’re not I should get back and sort lunch.” He asks a while later, after Vic’s forced mince pies on them and he’s made all the right noises over the jumper she’d given him.

“We might as well, Mum’ll only bend my ear if we don’t. Just for lunch though.”

“Are you sure?” He’s still acting strange but the look in his eye tells Robert he’s up to something. “Alright then, we better go.”

He says his goodbyes to Vic, an extra tight hug before he lets her go, and then they’re on their way.

“Ok, what’s going on? It wasn’t a week ago I wouldn’t have been able to drag you up here and now you’re almost eager. I’m not thatpersuasive.” They’ve had fun the last few days but the mood change is just too much. “Were you winding me up? Are you really some kind of Christmas loving lunatic?”

“I’m not, I swear. I suppose it was never hatred of Christmas, it was more…fear of letting myself enjoy it. The last few days, just spending time with you and seeing how much fun you have…and nothing bad has happened, has it?”

“I’ve not spent lunch with Cain yet so don’t count your chickens.” That gets him a shove and he laughs. “So, Christmas is alright then, is it?”

“It’s growing on me. Bit like you. Besides the one thing I do like about Christmas is Lisa’s Christmas pudding.”

“Ugh! All Christmas pudding is rank.” He can’t help scrunching his nose up in disgust.

“Whoa, have I found something about this holiday that you don’t like.”

“Shut up.” He could hear the noise as they approached Wishing Well, and he didn’t know about Aaron, he wasn’t entirely sure he could face Christmas with the Dingles.

*****

In the end it wasn’t too bad, although Cain still glared at him every few minutes. Everyone else had been fine and Aaron had been smiling all afternoon, all memories of previous years hopefully banished. As a bonus he’d avoided the Christmas pudding too. Less so the snowballs that he kept being given.

“Right, I’ve been patient all day…where’s my present?” He asks when they’re finally alone.

“Did nobody ever teach you patience?”

“Patience is spending the afternoon with your uncle looking like he wanted to kill me. Come on.” He pulls him closer, making him laugh and he’ll never tire of that sound.

“First things first…where’s mine?” Robert sighed and grabbed the pile from under the tree. He hadn’t gone too mad, it was just stuff that Aaron would like rather than anything overly extravagant.

In the past he’s always been more interested in what he’s been given and he still was, but watching Aaron open his gifts was something else. Maybe it was the fact that he knew that in previous years he’d not had much, he didn’t know, but the way his eyes lit up over a personalised race day made him smile wider than he had all day.

“I er, one of my clients knows the boss of a rally team. He owed me a favour. No one else gets to do all this. Is it…it’s alright, yeah?” Aaron’s just staring at the envelope with all the details, not saying anything. “Aaron?”

“It’s brilliant.” He leans over to kiss him, the presents forgotten and he thinks he could spend the rest of the day right here. Eventually though Aaron has other ideas, carefully piling his things to one side before crouching beside the tree, reaching right round the back where Robert wouldn’t have seen them. He hands him an envelope, similar to the one he had just opened, and bites his lip.

“We didn’t have the same idea did we?” Aaron looks nervous he realises. “It’s alright…if we did…”

“Just open it.”

“Plane tickets?” Then he saw the date. Exactly a year since they met. Then he saw their destination and he stared at Aaron again.

“Had to be Paris, didn’t it?” All he could do was nod, couldn’t quite believe he’d done this. “I wanted to get you something that would…meeting you on that plane last year, well you know all that happened. You changed my life. You’re amazing, and I don’t tell you that enough.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know. You changed mine too.” He can’t help kissing him again and the next thing he knows Aaron’s dragging him up the stairs, Christmas presents forgotten.

“So…” He asks later, Aaron once more wrapped round him. “I take it this means you’re fully converted to liking Christmas.”

“I guess I am. It’s not quite the perfect Christmas you promised though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I didn’t have chance to give you your other present yet.” He turns to pick something up from his side of the bed, keeping it hidden behind the bed. “You know my favourite carol, but I’ve always liked another one too.”

“Ok?” He was completely confused now.

“You know the twelve days of Christmas, right?” He nods. “Well we started this plan of yours five days ago, so that makes it the fifth day of Christmas…and you’re really not getting where I’m going with this are you?”

“Aaron, you just had your way with me, I’m barely forming words let alone solving riddles.”

“Ok, ok, well it’s not gold like the song but…” He’s holding out a box, a small square box. “Will you marry me?”

“You…what?”

“Not saying it again.” The smile is faltering with every second it takes Robert to form an answer. “If you don’t want to…”

“I do! Of course I do. I’m just…” He reaches out for the box. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t look so surprised. Are you going to put it on me then?” He can’t take his eyes of him as Aaron slides the ring onto his finger.

“Fits too, how about that. Perfect.”

“Yeah.” His voice falters a little and when Robert looks up there are tears in his eyes. “It’s perfect.”

It might be his imagination later as he’s drifting off to sleep, but he’s sure he can hear Aaron humming the Twelve days of Christmas.

#sugden-dinglefirst #long post #robron #robron secret santa #robron fanfiction

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sher-soc-the-famder · 6 years

Text

The Show Must Go On- Chapter 8

Word Count: 4231

Pairings: Gen, Platonic LAMP, Platonic Roman&OC, Platonic Virgil&OC

Warnings: Nightmare, Kidnapping, Mind Control

Masterpost

Read on AO3 <– Previous Chapter Next Chapter –>

“You never answered me last time,” Roman said steadily, not willing to wait around this time as they wandered through the endless alleys. Virgil scoffed at him, shrugging one shoulder and not replying.

He had refused to truly reply to something that was just going to leave him in the end. Maybe his mind had snapped under the pressure of everything going on. It was a trick of the mind; something he shouldn’t take comfort in — as if he even had the right to comfort.

Roman frowned at him, and Virgil took a sharp turn that left the prince like figment stumbling after him. He hated the fact that feelings and thoughts seemed to bleed together, leaving him open and vulnerable. His shoulders hiked higher; and carefully, slowly, Roman reached out for him.

The warmth of the hand that danced over his shoulder before retreating almost broke through his walls, and Virgil bit back a sob. Fuck, he was so lonely and scared and in the end he’d wake up and this whole thing will have just been a dream—

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Roman said gently, quietly, and closed his eyes, remembering the way that dreams had once danced under his fingertips. “They’re meant to be escapes, Virgil; something that makes getting up a little bit easier. Here let me show you—”

“No!” Virgil snapped, his body flinching away from him, and Roman cursed himself. “Don’t you dare!”

“Okay, okay, okay, I won’t!” he replied. “Prince’s honor!”

Virgil eyed him, before muttering under his breath as he relaxed, “Not that you’re much of a prince.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way that his lips twitched up at the unholy noise that escaped from Roman’s mouth. For a moment he could have sworn the whole exchange felt familiar; comforting — like wrapping himself in his favorite hoodie. And he thought about asking as Roman’s eyes sharpened in anticipation, but—

Victoria knew that the moment she looked at Roman, her anger would fade. It already was and if anything that only made the self hate curdling in her gut even worse.

She should be mad at him for what he said, but all she could think of was that he was right.

She wasn't the friendliest with new people. She could fake it—could plaster on a smile as best as she could—but Vic craved familiarity and routine. She didn't even know why Roman stuck with her. Hell, she could barely even remember when and how they had meet. She didn't blame him for simply putting up with someone like her.

But for once, she wanted to hang on to her anger. This strange sharp feeling that didn't match the worry she normally felt for Roman.

The kid knew something. And not just about magic.

Richard acted like he knew Roman; not just in the ‘I ran into you on the street’ sort of know, but in the ‘I would trust you with my life’ sort of sense. They had been in Springfield for a couple of weeks at most at this point; there wasn't enough time for Richard to build that sort of relationship with Roman; not to mention the way that Richard had looked like Roman would come to the rescue at the drop of a hat.

And the fact that the kid knew that Roman's cape had magic when they themselves hadn't; it didn't add up and the fact that Roman didn't see it made her blood boil.

Roman made a noise from her left side—a hesitant, but joyous sound—and the anger evaporated, like Vic knew it would.

Damn him and his ability to cheer her up. She wanted to sulk for once; wanted to try and process the feelings that sat in her chest like a weight.

"They've got a copy of Bon Jovi's original albums here!" He pointed at the shop they were walking past as they headed back to the motel for the day and Victoria twitched at the motion.

Damn him.

She picked her pace up so that he wouldn't see the way her eyes had wavered. Like they always would. She wanted him to see what was up and that would never happen if she didn't stand her ground for once.

Not that it would happen.

The thought hit her, bitter and dark. Victoria hunched over the weight of it and bit down on the bottom of her lip hard enough to draw blood. She was so stupid in thinking she could do it. If she didn't hold on to her anger at Roman, they'd go running recklessly into another situation blind.

If she didn't, she'd probably kill herself out of self hate and guilt.

What right did she have to feel like this when Roman was only trying to make her feel better?

She was the worst friend, a monster, an absolute bitch—

"Hey," Roman said softly as she tugged the door to the motel open. "It's going to be alright."

Vic trembled at the words. Any hope she had of staying strong evaporated with her emotions, leaving her feeling wrung out and exhausted. The numb dissociation she settled into was an old and hated friend; a cloak wrapped around her shoulders that was nowhere near as warm as Roman’s.

Her body moved towards the bathroom mechanically, Roman’s voice distant and unheard as she shut the door behind her. She stared at the stranger in the mirror, the overweight ginger blinking back at her blearily.

And Victoria hated her.

They were everywhere. Now that Roman had noticed the first person following them, he couldn’t stop noticing the others. All of them were well dressed, but without a solid age range that he could pin down. He tried not to think about it too hard or else he’d ache for Logan and his natural observations, or Virgil and his heightened senses.

Victoria was a silent ghost at his side as they ducked out of the hotel, keeping a subtle eye out for the day’s tag along. She gripped the map in her hand loosely, looking exhausted in a way he hadn’t seen in months. He wondered if she had called Dr. Picani recently; he desperately hoped that she had.

“The clubs were all a bust,” he babbled, the cape around his shoulder acting as a comfort he didn’t know that he had needed. They hadn’t figured out what her gloves did, but seeing as they came from the same source, Roman figured it was safe to say that they were magic too.

He continued when he heard no response back, “That means we should check out the libraries next. They’d remind him of Logan; not to mention act as a quiet space for him that he could tuck into.”

Victoria let out a quiet hum, and Roman pasted on a fake smile in return, struggling to remember how to deal with her depression and moods. Hell, he didn't know if this was his fault or something that had been building for a while.

“Come Vic-cules! On to the adventure for the day!” he cheered, and dragged her along behind him, hand gentle around her wrist. The nickname earned him a ghost of a smile and his heart soared in response.

They weren’t okay, but they were going to be. They were going to find Virgil, and then Patton and Logan, and then everything would be perfect.

“Okay,” Victoria said softly, and Roman squeezed her hand. His eyes flickered to their tag along, a woman today, before he replied slowly.

“Shall we take on the subquest of finding a book to read ourselves? Come! We shall endeavor to find one together!” Victoria let out a soft, breathy giggle, her grip on the map tightening. Roman’s grin grew in both size and genuineness.

“As long as it’s not Harry Potter again,” she rebutted gently—hesitantly—and Roman bit back a squeal.

He tilted his head up imperiously instead and said, “You love Harry Potter and we both know it. There is no such thing as too much Harry Potter, in fact.”

Victoria squealed as he dragged her closer to himself and smirked at her.

“Harry Potter,” he sung, a pep in his step. “Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter—”

“Stoooop,” she giggled, shoving at his face.

“Never!” He cried, and snagged her hand to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles, and threading his fingers through hers. “Well, only if you forgive me.”

Victoria sucked in a sharp breath and smiled tremulously at him, her hand squeezing his back.

“No, Ro,” she said softly, and he didn’t have time for his heart to drop before she whispered, “I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m just not taking this whole thing as well as I hoped I would. You deserve someone better. And your family, and just—”

“Oh, hush,” Roman said, his grin growing as he planted a finger on her lips. “We’ve both made mistakes. You’re not horrible and the next time you suggest that you’re not the best friend I could have, I’m going to take a sword to your self-doubt.”

Victoria giggled again, and she stepped closer to him, their hips brushing. “I don’t think that, that’s possible Ro. Seeing as you’d have to get into my head first.”

Roman scoffed, eyes scanning the street for their turn, anxious to get back to looking for Virgil now that things were settled between the two of them.

A mop of brown hair caught his attention, bobbing through the wave of people, and finally snagging the edge of cape.

Victoria blinked as Richard suddenly appeared next to her, tugging desperately on the cloth.

“Please,” the kid gasped out.

“Richard?” Roman asked. “What—”

“Please,” Richard cut him off, and Roman glanced at Victoria who bit her lip. After what felt like an eternity, she nodded slowly, and Roman knelt down next to Richard.

He placed his hands on the kid’s shoulders and said seriously, “Show me.”

Richard’s eyes lit up, and the next thing Roman knew, he was being dragged through the city, trying not to trip over the desperate child in front of him. The crowds thinned out around them, the state the buildings darkening and degrading into unkempt apartments and houses.

Richard slowed down as they became the only ones around, and tugged on Roman’s cape.

“Cape,” he whispered, and Roman nodded, swinging the cloth around all three of them. The golden pattern on it shimmered until they could see through it and Roman had to bit back a giddy giggle at the show of magic. Victoria nudged him, reproval in her eyes as they shuffled forwards after Richard, and all he could do was grin back at her.

She rolled her eyes fondly, and turned to study the child in front of them silently, likely weighing if they could trust him or not. Richard halted them at a corner, and waved around it, the three of them inching forwards to examine the situation.

Victoria’s hand snapped out and stifled the excited gasp that rose in Roman’s mouth at the house that Richard pointed out. The quaint house that greeted them could have been pulled straight from story books, and Roman fell in love instantly. The rust red shingles were the exact same shade as in the movies, with a pale blue exterior that could have been mistaken for white. All of it surrounded by a simple garden that Roman would have bet his life was full of herbs as well as flowers.

It was small enough that there couldn’t have been a full family living there; perhaps an adorable old couple. The creator in him screeched.

But the fly in soup was the woman, leaning against the white picket fence and idly scrolling through her phone. The suit she wore screamed that she was out of place in the small neighborhood, and ever so often she glanced up to scan the street. She was looking for something.

Expecting someone.

“Not safe,” Richard hissed, before his breath hitched and he repeated himself, panic rising in his tone. “Not safe.”

Roman ignore the way that he could practically hear Victoria’s teeth grinding in frustration and curiosity and nodded.

He crouched down so that Richard could hear him better as he murmured back, “We need to get rid of her, right?”

Richard nodded, his head bobbing rapidly in relief. Then he turned and hesitated, placing a hand on Victoria's gloves. He didn’t meet her eyes as he muttered, “Please.”

Victoria jolted, scrambling to make sure the cape had stayed on her during the sharp movement and stared at him with wide eyes.

“Me?” Her eyes flickered up to the woman, and then back down to Richard. Air hissed out silently between his teeth. She nodded and clenched her hands. “The gloves right?”

Richard nodded, solemn and pale. Victoria took a shuddering deep breath, and looked up at Roman with wide eyes.

“Welp, time to hope that theses are as easy to use as yours is.” She slid out from under the cape and strolled casually towards the woman, hands jammed in her pocket. Roman bit his lip, and knew that it was as much to hide her shaking as t was to hide the gloves from her target.

The woman glanced up, and Roman felt his heart sink as recognition flashed through her eyes as they locked on Victoria’s face. Richard’s hand gripped his arm, and Roman fought against the urge to leap to his friend’s defence.

She wasn’t in danger. He took a deep breath. She could take care of herself most of the time.

Victoria waved, the action more of a sharp jerk of her hand than anything thing else. The silk of her gloves caught the light of the sun and the woman’s eyes seemed to snap to it.

“Hey, so you know you’re being a creepy stalker right now, right?”

Roman fought back a groan, burying his head in his hands.

The woman raised an eyebrow, eyes darting to Victoria’s face before they drifted back to the glove still in the air. “There’s no crime in waiting for my ride.”

Victoria’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders bunching up in anger.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure there’s no other reason you’re here. I’d say you should take a hike, but—”

She was cut off, a yelp of startlement slipping from her lips as the woman suddenly kicked off of the fence and walking away.

“Okay,” Victoria said slowly, blinking in shock. Roman lunged forward, cape fluttering back to settle around his shoulders at the action.

Her lips quirked up as she turned to look at him, and she wiggled her fingers.

“These are not the droids you’re looking for,” she said with a grin. “Use the force Roman, use the Force.”

Roman cackled, picking her up and spinning her through the air.

“That was amazing Ana-Vic!” He set her down and let his eyes drift up to the house in front of them. Now that he had a chance to look at it closer, he realized that it wasn’t only a dream, but a dream with shadows. The yard was too large for a house this far into city, and they had managed to plant actual trees along the edges of the yard.

“Woah,” Roman breathed. Victoria hummed from next to him as Richard scurried to their side.

“Benevolent fairy godmother in the center of Springfield. I’d bet you a five on it.”

“Witch,” Roman countered. “Witch, not a fairy, and make it ten.”

Victoria cackled as she reach out to shake his hand and Roman felt just about fit to bursting as Richard rolled his eyes at them.

It wasn’t the same as the other sides of Thomas, but he wasn’t alone. And for now, that was enough.

He was strapped to a table, voice growing hoarse from his screaming as he struggled against the restraints. He could feel the leather digging into his skin, and the pain made him panic more, thrashing until the fragile skin broke. He couldn’t calm down, couldn’t breath, couldn’t break free—

Roman burst in, sword in hand and eyes wide.

“Virgil!” he cried, scrambling to help the other side of the straps that held him down. Silver gleamed at the edges of his vision, and he couldn’t help the low growl that built in the back of his throat. It could take him just a snap of the fingers to fix all this, if he could remember how.

If Virgil would let him.

“No,” Virgil murmured, exhausted and sweat soaking through his clothes. He refused to give up any more control, he refused to let someone have that sort of power over him.

“Hey,” Roman said gently, brushing Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes. Virgil peeled his eyes open to meet Roman’s brilliant smile. “Oh why, there you are. Come on, it’s going to be fine. Let’s get out of here.”

He took the hand that Roman offered him, leaning against the figment, and muttered under his breath, “As if; good luck finding a way out of this hell.”

Roman scoffed in reply and Virgil couldn’t help but lean against his chest as Roman dragged him out of the lab. A door opened and Virgil didn’t need to open his eyes to know that they had strode right back out into the labyrinth of alleys.

“It never ends,” Virgil whispered, and blinked as Roman’s hand around his waist tightened.

“It can,” Roman said fiercely, “and it will.”

Virgil chuckled bitterly and Roman’s voice tightened with determination.

“I will make it so, no matter what it takes. We just– We just have to get you out of this. Virgil, it’s just a dream. You reach the end of this maze and—”

“Exactly,” Virgil snapped. “It’s just a dream!” He shoved back and away from Roman, missing the warmth the figment had proved. “It’s a dream and no matter what I do, I’m going to wake up and you won’t be real. So why the hell do you think this matters?”

Roman’s face twisted, first in hurt and then in anger.

“You really believe that?” he demanded. “That none of this is real? That none of this matters? Where’s your hope Virgil?”

“IT DIED WITH YOU!” He screamed back and Roman flinched, eyes wide. Virgil waved his arms, trying to cut the haunting image out of his vision. His voice dropped to a pained whisper.

“It died with you and Patton and Logan and—”

A sob caught in his throat, and he wrapped his arms around his waist, hunching in on himself. The dreamscape flickered around him, the endless grey labyrinth giving way to a warmer, well-used living room before it was gone again.

“Y-you’re not real, or you’re dead — and I-I know which one is easier to deal with,” he murmured, trying to settle his breathing and failing badly. “I’d rather forget what I can never have then– then be forced to relive it every day.”

He swiped at his face sharply, and glared up at Roman.

“Let me forget,” he said miserably, “let me—”

“No.” Roman’s voice was strong and Virgil flinched at the arms that wrapped around his own. His eyes flickered up to meet identical ones full of fire before dropping back down. “I won’t. I’m real Virge, I promise. This very moment, I’m looking for you, and I’ll never stop looking for you. Because—”

Roman’s lips twisted and Virgil’s eyes widened at the look.

“No,” he breathed, “Roman, please, no—”

Roman tugged him straight through a wall, ignoring the way that Virgil thrashed in his grip, and the light seared against his eyes. He snarled, oblivious to the familiar feel of the stairs they stood at the base of and he swung out, pained and desperate.

Roman crashing back was the last thing he saw in Thomas’s living room before—

Roman felt himself flail as he tipped off the bed, crashing onto the ground face first. The blankets tangled up in his legs and he struggled to free himself. He managed to heave himself into a better position, feeling the rug burn against his forearms as he desperately scanned around for Virgil. His jaw ached and he wouldn’t stop shaking, but he needed know that Virgil was alright.

That he hadn’t ruined everything between them again.

He didn’t realize that he was zoning out until a soft hand placed itself on his cheek.

“Come on, Ro,” Victoria murmured softly, tugging at his legs to set him on the ground. “Breath with me, deep steady breaths. Come on, you can do this.”

His chest shuddered and he winced as her hand reached for the left side of his face, and he heard her take in a sharp breath.

“God, Roman, what happened?” Her hand pulled away, and she helped him lean back against the bed. “Stay here, I’m going to get an ice pack.”

He closed his eyes, weighing heavily against the mattresses against his back as he listened to Victoria’s hurried footsteps. The raw panic in Virgil’s voice nipped at his heels and he knew that his hands were shaking again; his breath hitched as he thought about it. He pressed a hand to his face, desperately trying to hold back tears.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He had let his impulsivity get in the way again. He had crossed the line with Virgil again. And now the other side was never going to acknowledge the past, or their shared vision, or whatever the hell was up. Shoving Virgil into a room full of memories hadn’t worked when they were trying to help Patton, why had he thought it would help now?

His shoulders hunched forwards, and a hand on his knee broke him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Hey,” Victoria said as his eyes snapped open to look at her. He winced as she pressed the bag of ice gently on his forming bruise and her eyes softened. She squeezed his knee. “It’s going to be alright Gene-Ro Shang. War’s not over yet.”

“Maybe it is,” he choked out. “Maybe he hates me now.”

“Lies and slander,” Victoria returned softly; “no one could hate you.”

The bitter laugher that slipped from his throat was as disbelieving as it was sharp. She watched him steadily as the sound broke down into sobs and he leaned forward onto her shoulder. She wrapped a hand around his neck, burying her fingers in the nape of his hair as the other held the ice to his numb jaw steady.

“You’re allowed to make mistakes Disney Prince,” she whispered into his ears. “Family is allowed to make mistakes.”

He dug his hands into her back, chest heaving as he tried to calm down. He didn’t know how long she sat there with him, steady and soft as she waited for him. She took a deep breath, and waited

The door swung open with a loud crash and they both toppled forward into a tangle of limbs.

“Taken!” Richard shrieked, even as Victoria blinked at him from under Roman. Roman cursed as he tried to haul himself up, scrambling to reach his cape and clothes.

“How did he get in here?” Vic murmured, mostly to herself so Roman felt alright lunging for the small boy on the edge of tears in their room.

“What was taken?” he asked, bending down on one knee to meet Richard’s eyes better. “Are you safe?”

“Taken,” Richard shrieked again, his hands twisting in the edges of Roman’s cape. “Taken, taken, taken.”

Victoria cursed in the background, crashing against something as she rushed to gather their stuff together. Roman pressed down on his shoulders lightly and waited for the boy to take a shuddering breath, before asking again.

“What was taken, Richard?”

Amber eyes met his, wild and glistening with tears.

“Virgil,” he whispered, and Roman felt the blood roar in his ears. He was on his feet and out the door before he registered Richard’s cry and Victoria’s calls for him to come back. The sky was a dark blue above him, the stars only just disappearing, and maybe it was the time of night that meant he wasn’t stopped from rushing down the street, barefoot and still in his pajamas.

He tripped, stumbling, before righting himself and following his instincts. He planted his hands on his knees, panting as his head whipped up to scan the street they had been on only the day before. The small house remained the same except a dark van idled in front of it.

He caught his breath and he screamed, cape fluttering in the wind as the van started.

“VIRGIL!”

He could see the struggle through the back window, and he put on a burst of speed, reaching desperately for the door. Something crashed as it slipped through his fingers; the van picking up speed, and Roman looked back to the window to meet Virgil’s eyes before a hand dragged the other side back, deeper into the vehicle.

Roman tried to scream again, stumbling and falling to his knees with wide eyes as van turned around the corner, taking Virgil with it.

It had been right there.

He had been right there.

Now, Virgil was gone.

And for the second time that night, Roman broke down, curling into the street and not bothering to hold back his wails.

#Sanders sides #TSMGO #Urban Fantasy AU #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #OC: Victoria #OC: Richard #Nightmares #Kidnapping #Mind control #TS-Storytime 2018 Submission

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nadjaofstatenisland · 6 years

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The Parent ‘Cap 1x08 - The Outsiders

For @kisspainez for reminding me I was supposed to finish these all months ago.

Holy crap! This is actually a family episode that rivals 2x15.

The Cooper family picture is iconic and beyond reproach.

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS. I love how the show just decided that line never happened. Ugh.

How did Tom not go to Polly earlier? Couldn’t be get something demanding Alice and Hal tell him where she is? You think she would have been the first person he wanted to talk to. Kid is dead and his girlfriend is committed the same day? Seems suspicious.

Fred telling Archie and Jughead the bedroom stinks is the most iconic thing on this entire show.

I know we joke that no one hates Alice more than Tom Keller, but I bet Weatherbee is pretty bitter towards her too. Just busting into the school like she has any business there. And of course when she demands a position at the Blue and Gold two episodes later.

Vic!! Penelope’s first client. He’s such a gentleman, takes his hard hat off and all when he talks to Fred and Hermione.

Fred opening up to Archie is a beautiful moment. Archie always looks at his dad as this big strong guy and just imagine how hard it must be for Fred to open up to him about his problems.

Hermione’s “oh yeah no” delivery and face are priceless.

Fred and Clifford! How long was Fred parked right there waiting to dramatically cut Clifford off? And why is the fog only within the gates of Thornhill? How expensive is it to keep fog machines running all day, man?

Pompous ass! Fred not backing down and the best line Clifford can come up with is “Go park somewhere else.”

Why don’t we ever get more Alice and Hermione scenes? “I want my daughter back. I want my family back together.” What about now, Alice, hmm? And you know we’d never get a scene like this in season 2.

“You guys think Clifford Blossom would... hire guys to beat up teenagers?” MAYBE.

Why did FP prevent Archie from getting his ass kicked? For Fred. That’s why. God, I hope he’s been calling Archie Red since he was a kid.

How did no one know FP was a Serpent?? This still makes no sense. “All these years.” Give me continuity! Give me a goddamn timeline! Two years? Ten? Feed me.

We get this beautiful moment of Alice and Polly being reunited, cut off by the Blossom’s dramatic entrance. Alice reaching out to Polly when Penelope touches her!

“Have to make a living.” FP, how is being in a gang making a living? But also, FP asking about Fred’s troubles and Fred actually telling him? And FP cares? Precious. However, when this is going on FP is watching Archie sneak away, so…

I’m still semi annoyed Alice didn’t get Polly a real gift. Just me?“

Alice, it’s lovely!” Hermione is drunk. Everyone at this shower is drinking tea except for her and her wine glass.

Every word - every word - exchanged between Alice and Penelope is pure gold. And the fact that Hermione is literally seated between them and does nothing to settle them down makes it all the better.

Wow, what a perfect time to tell your daughter you also spent time at the Sisters too, Alice! No? No? Okay.

Archie comforting Fred with his corny fantasies about his own kids kind of makes me want to cry.

“Dad, I’ve been friends with Betty since I was a child, but you’re a drunk so let me introduce you.”

“We figured he took off with our stash.” And did nothing? Dude, how did you get put in charge?

“I’m no killer.” The line that made every Scream fan howl with laughter.

I know there is some parallel to be made over FP and Hal both drinking and watching the same baseball game, but it’s lost on me.

HAL IS WEARING JEANS IN THIS SCENE. I AM SHOOK. HOW DID I NEVER NOTICE THIS? I suppose these are his Black Hood jeans? Hal is only evil when he wears denim. Facts only.

Honestly… this scene at the end with Alice and Hal leaves me more confused than anything now. I used to watch this and feel terrible, but now it’s like if Alice always knew that she wasn’t pregnant with Hal’s kid, how the hell can she still be mad at him over not wanting him? 25 years later? Like okay. I’m still choosing to ignore that stupid fanservice element of season 2 and say this is still a great scene between the two of them. Although I still want to know what the hell Alice is capable of?

“What will the neighbors think?” Hal playing off Alice’s insecurities which is also never brought back up because this show hates continuity. But also... what will who think? Fred?

I still don’t get why FP didn’t just give Joaquin the flash drive? Why hide it in a jacket? Why keep the jacket? Why you so bad at crime, FP?

“Right on.”

Oh but they FP shows up and saves the day! “I won’t leave you hanging this time.”Why don’t we ever see FP and Hermione together again? This is such an excellent dynamic that’s never explored.

Clifford takes Polly’s bag at the end. (after making her walk up that driveway alone..) What a gentleman!

A few other things...

Real reason they killed off Jason is because Polly and Jason would have been the best teen couple on this damn show. There. I said it.

Betty calls the Sister’s an insane asylum, but it is apparently also a place to hold troubled youths, pregnant teens, and orphans. Oh. And gay conversion therapy of course.

I’m biting my tongue because there is so much I want to say about how abortion is still stigmatized in 2017. To the point where you can’t even say the word on the CW. But I will refrain and simply state, yes, it is always a woman’s choice what to do when they get pregnant. But at no point in any of the dialogue do Alice or Polly state Hal forced either of them to get abortions. Just that “he’d be happy to pay for it.” And honestly? My dad would have made the same offer if I was 17 and pregnant. But I’m not here to get into a whole abortion argument. I just wish this show didn’t make both abortion and adoption look like horrible choices for teens.

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bamby0304 · 6 years

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Victoria Grimes VII: Power

Summary: Negan. He was the monster everyone had warned them about. He was like nothing Victoria had ever seen before. Worse than Shane, the Governor, the Terminus cannibals, the people at Grady, and the Wolves. Now Negan’s Saviours are here, and they’re about to turn everyone’s lives upside down. Of course, the last thing Vickie expected was to be dragged further into it all than anyone else.

Chapter Fifteen: Snake in the Grass

Masterlist

Warnings: Explicit language, violence.

Bamby

DPOV

I'd found a spoon to eat the peanut butter with, and had set myself on the leather chair while I waited. I needed the people next door to come back to their room. I needed to make sure they weren't in the hall where they could bust me when I decide to make a break for it.

While I was waiting, I'd set my eyes on the little figurines on the table. My mind wondered about all the things I wanted to do to Dwight after all the crap he'd put me through. Not just while I was here, but ever since I met him.

I also thought about Vic. The idea of breaking out of this place and seeing her again, speaking to her again, touching her again. You have no idea how much I needed her. We needed each other, and the idea of her going through the loss of our friends by herself was enough to make me want to tear everyone Saviour apart.

"Easy. Easy." A man's muffled voice came through from the room next door.

"We got it. Take this crap back," another man said.

"How 'bout, this time, you watch where you're going?" There was the woman's voice.

I was on my feet in an instant, putting the spoon in the peanut butter and the peanut butter on the ground. As I moved towards the door, I couldn't help myself. Reaching the table, I grabbed the corner and flung it up and over, sending everything on top of it to the ground.

Now by the door, I grabbed a hat from a hook, put it on my head and snuck out, ready to finally get the hell out of this place.

RPOV

Now that we were back on land, Aaron and I were staking the boxes of supplies and things into our truck. We weren't going to find any other places to scavenge today, so we were taking everything from the boat house. Right down to the mattress.

"You know, back there, I didn't mean that you couldn't do it," I told Aaron as we kept moving stuff into the truck. "It's just going this far, risking this much to get things for them... people don't agree with it. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"I was there. I saw what happened on the road," he pointed out. "What we're doing is gonna keep people living. We get to do that, it doesn't matter what happens to us."

"Michonne doesn't think this is living."

"Well, committing to a choice like this, after living how we did. Free." He shrugged, grabbing another box. "I get it. It's hard. It's giving up everything, right up until your own life. But either your heart's beating, or it isn't. Your loved ones' hearts are beating, or they aren't. We take what they give us so that we can live," he told me, placing the last box in the truck.

His words made me think. How much did Negan really want us to give up? How much was everyone willing to give? Me? I'd give him everything if it meant saving my family and people. I'd even give him my life if it meant he didn't kill or hurt anyone else.

Which begged the question, what would everyone else give up? Michonne? Rosita? Tobin? Eugene? Olivia? Carl? Morgan? Maggie? Enid? Gabriel? Sasha? Spencer? Carol? Vickie? What would they give up?

MPOV

Sitting at the dining table in the trailer, I was snacking on a cucumber as Enid cleaned up the small kitchen. The sound of someone walking up the steps t our door had me turn as the smell of apple pie crept into the room.

The moment Sasha opened the door, I was out of my seat.

"Is that an apple pie?" I asked, mouth full of cucumber.

Her jaw dropped as she closed the door with one hand before lifting the cover off of the pie. "How did you do that?"

"I could smell it from outside the door," I told her, taking the pie out of her grasp and setting it on the table.

"Uh, you baked it?" Enid asked.

"Some guy gave it to us for what we did," Sasha answered, moving to sit on the couch. "His little girl said you should run for President of Hilltop." She smiled at me.

Enid chuckled, "'Maggie for President'."

Ignoring them, I grabbed a spatula from one of the drawers before using it to cut a slice of the pie out of the pie dish.

"Uh, do you want a plate?" Enid offered.

I shook my head, using a fork to eat the slice of pie. "No, I'm good." As I took a bite I looked up at Sasha, seeing her looking down at two knives in her hands. "Did Jesus give you those? Is he still around? There's some things I wanna add to his list before he goes out. The kids need something to write with. Pens, pencils."

"Are you already president?" Enid asked cheekily.

"Mm." I shook my head, chuckling lightly. "I've just been talking to people."

"Jesus left this morning," Sasha said, bringing the conversation back to my question. "He told me to tell you, but I-I forgot."

"Okay. Next time." I shrugged, getting up. "I'm gonna get some milk."

Sasha was on her feet, moving to get to the door. "Let me," she offered.

But I reached the door before her. "No, I'm good." I smiled, walking out.

I wasn't sure why, but I had a bad feeling. It was like the feeling I got when I thought about Vickie going off to do something stupid.

Jesus was a friend. A new one, but still a friend. I didn't know him that well, but from what I'd seen I already knew he was willing to put himself in sticky situations for others. So where ever he was and whatever he was doing, I hoped he was okay.

DPOV

While making my way through the halls, I'd come across some pipes being replaced in the wall. Not thinking twice about it, I grabbed one for a weapon, just in case before continuing down hall as I kept following the trail of match sticks.

I came to the exit I'd used a few days ago, the same that had lead me to the trap Negan had set. But this time. This time I was sure there wasn't a trap. I could already feel the freedom. I could smell it.

Grabbing the door, I pushed it open, walking out into the small area used as a parking space for a couple of trucks and some motorbikes.

Not wasting a single second more, I rushed over to the bikes, seeing mine sitting there. While in Dwight's room, I'd looked for the key to my bike and found it. Moving to my bike now, I got ready to get the hell out of here as fast as I could.

But just as I went to jump on, someone walked around the corner. Joey walked around the corner, snaking on a sandwich.

"What the hell? Whoa. Whoa." He raised his hands in defence, dropping the sandwich as he did so. "It's cool, I swear. Buddy, you can walk right out that back gate there, and I won't say anything to anybody. I'm supposed to be there now, but, listen, I'm- I'm just trying to get by, just like you."

There was fear in his eyes. Real fear. This guy was nothing without Negan. Without back up. Without orders. He was nothing. It was almost enough for me to let him go.

But then I remembered what he'd done to me. How he'd been the one to lead me into the trap. How he'd been a part of the crowd that had beat me. How he'd aimed Rick's gun in my face. How he smirked at me, knowing what was coming for me after I refused Negan's offer.

I started walking towards him.

The fear in his eyes grew. "Please."

Not giving him a chance to say anything else, or defend himself, or even run, I lifted the pipe and brought it down on to his head.

He fell to the ground in a heap as his head cracked open and his brains and blood spilled out with every hit of the pipe.

"Daryl."

I heard someone say my name, but I wasn't done. I kept hitting Joey until his face was unrecognisable. After everything he'd done to me, and after everything I'd been put through, I needed to get back at them somehow. So for now, this would do. But only for now.

"Daryl," the person spoke again.

I dropped the pipe then and looked up to see Jesus standing there, looking at me shocked. "It ain't just about gettin' by here. It's about gettin' it all," I noted before gesturing to my bike. "I got the key. Let's go."

I was just about to go when my eyes landed on a gun tucked into Joey's pants. Reaching down, I grabbed it, seeing it was Rick's gun. Nodding to myself I turned and headed over to my bike, knowing Jesus would be right behind me, both of us wanting to get out of this place as soon as possible.

VPOV

Negan and I had been in the living room, sitting in uncomfortable silence as he grinned at me and I glared at him. We'd been like that for some time. Olivia had taken the girls to their room, while I'd sent Carl to his. There was no need for anyone else to suffer through Negan's presence.

The sound of people talking outside had Negan look up and out the window before he got to his feet. "Come on, Sweetheart. We've got a guest," he said as he offered me his hand.

Sighing, I took it, knowing I had no other choice. Once he pulled me to my feet, he looped my arm through his before walking us to the front door. The moment he opened it I found myself looking down Arat and Spencer.

"I just want to talk to him," Spencer assured her.

But Arat simply shook her head. "I said 'no'."

"Don't be an asshole, Arat." Negan grinned, stepping out on the porch with me right behind him. "Let the man pass."

Spencer's eyes looked from Negan, to me, to our looped arms and then back to Negan. There was a flash of what appeared to be anger, but it was gone before I could read into it. Though for the single second the emotion had rested on his face, it told me enough. Spencer didn't trust my dad or me. Seeing me by Negan's side, well I guess he sees that as just another reason to hate me.

Negan must not have noticed the look of anger Spencer had given, because his eyes seemed to rest on the bottle of alcohol in Spencer's hand and nothing else. "Oh, crap. Is that for me?"

Spencer started up the porch steps, a smile on his face. "We haven't officially met. I'm Spencer Monroe," he introduces himself to Negan. "Hi."

RPOV

The gate to Alexandria creaked as it opened, but that didn't matter to me. What mattered was the fact a stranger was opening it. I was out of the truck in an instant, moving to go talk to the stranger. I recognised him as the one who'd given Negan the camera on their first visit here.

"Where is he?" I asked, skipping the formalities.

"Negan? He's in your house, asshole, waiting for you," the guy answered.

Having nothing left to say, or wanting to hear nothing more from him, I started to move towards my house, ready to go see what hell Negan had brought down on us this time.

I was suddenly stopped by a guy as he stepped in my way. I recognised this one as well. He'd been the one to torment Enid last time, and he'd also slapped Vickie the night we first me Negan.

"Whoa, hey." He smiled at me, though it was not a friendly smile. No, it was cocky. "Just like that? See, we've been waiting for hours just to see what you gonna bring us, huh? Why don't we have a look first?" He nodded to the truck as Aaron parked it inside the gates.

Knowing I didn't really have a choice here, I bit my tongue and nodded, willing to wait a few more minutes if it made everything easier. The last thing we needed was to piss these guys off.

NPOV

I sat on the porch with Vickie and Spencer, enjoying a glass of scotch. Vickie clearly didn't want to be here. She didn't want me here either. But more than that, she didn't want Spencer around. I'd noticed it the moment I opened the front door. Both of them didn't like each other. I knew that by the way Vickie had tensed next to me- though I doubt she noticed her reaction to our guest. I also noticed the way Spencer hadn't looked too pleased to see Vickie on my arm.

But I'd simply pretended not to notice. I didn't really feel like pointing it out. In fact, I wanted to play with it for a moment. I wanted to see how far I could go before one of them snapped.

So here I was, back on the rocking chair, while Spencer sat on the other and Vickie sat on my other side on a kitchen chair I had grab from inside the house.

"Running water, air conditioning, a housewarming gift?" I shook my head, grinning. "That settles it. I am getting myself a vacation home here."

"Cheers to that." Spencer lifted his glass to me.

I lifted mine to him as well before taking a sip. It was some pretty fine scotch if you ask me.

"Mm. Mm. Oh, that is good." I turned to look at Vickie. "You sure you don't want some, Sweetheart?"

She just shook her head, keeping her eyes focused in front of her. "I told you I don't drink alcohol."

"Your loss." I shrugged, turning to see Spencer eyeing our interaction curiously. Ignoring his look, I got a little more comfortable in my seat as I stretched my legs out in front of me. "You know, the only thing missing is a pool table. Nothing better than a good game of 8 ball."

Focusing on me again, Spencer gestured to a house over the road. "The house across the street has one in the garage."

A wide grin spread across my face. "Oh, Spencer, you may just be my new best friend," I chuckled. "Such a nice day, though. Too nice to be cooped up inside some garage, don't you think?" That's when I thought of the perfect solution. "Oh, I got a better idea." Getting to my feet I turned to Vickie. "Come on, Sweetheart. Time to have some fun."

RPOV

As the Saviours went through our stuff, Aaron and I had to stand back and watch them pile everything they wanted into their trucks. I knew that by the time they were finished we'd probably have nothing to show for the days we'd been gone.

"Not bad." The one who'd opened the gate nodded

"We had to go out pretty far," Aaron told them.

They ignored him though as hey just kept going through the boxes. Aaron and I fell silent again, watching them, wishing they'd just take it all already and go.

"What the hell's this?" One of the female Saviours asked as she pulled a note from one of the boxes. But not just any note... "'Congrats for winning. But you still lose'?"

The Saviour that had stopped me before now looked up at Aaron and myself. "You leave us a little love note?" he asked, taking the note from the woman as he then focused on Aaron.

"No, I just-" Aaron started to back up as the man kept walking towards him. "I mean- We wouldn't, obviously-"

The guy cut him off, "Wait. What? Did you just say it's obvious?" He pushed Aaron into the side of the truck.

"We didn't do that," Aaron tried to explain once more.

But the guy no longer seemed to be focused on the note. "It's not about the damn note!" he snapped, pushing Aaron into the side of the truck again.

"Don't," I warned, stepped closer to Aaron and the asshole picking on him. There was no doubt in my mind that this was no about Aaron being gay and not about the stupid note.

Before I could do anything else the other guy- the one who'd opened the gate- stepped in front of me. "Run along to Negan, Rick," he told me before moving to punch Aaron in the gut, making him fall to the ground. "But your friend here... he's got no place to be."

"You-" I went to step forward to stop them.

But the woman was in front of me now, gun in my face. " Back up!" she warned, cocking the gun.

There was nothing I could do to fix the situation now. All I could do was watch as the two assholes continued to beat Aaron while he curled up on the ground unable to defend himself.

VPOV

Negan had his people bring the pool table out into the street so he and Spencer could play out in the sun. His people watched as Spencer set up the game while Negan and I stood at the other end of the table waiting and watching.

I grabbed Negan's shoulder, turning him to me and lifting myself on to my toes so I could whisper in his ear. "You can't trust him," I warned, my voice low so only he could hear me.

I didn't like Negan, sure. But I didn't like Spencer either. He'd made mistakes over and over. He'd tried planning things but only made situations worse. He'd almost gotten myself, Tara and Olivia killed. He'd stolen, lied, cheated and screwed up in more ways than I could list. But what really pissed me off was what he'd said the other day about Glenn and Abraham. For that, I wanted him dead.

Negan chuckled in my ear, causing my grip on his arm to tighten which pulled him a little closer accidentally.

His lips brushed my skin as he spoke. "Are you worried about me, Sweetheart?" he asked, moving to rest his hand on my waist.

Glaring, I shoved him away. I'd tried to do something nice for the guy, and all I got in return was his usually asshole self. So if he wasn't going to take me seriously, and if he was going to get himself killed, then so be it. Why should I care?

Why do I care?

Shaking my head to clear that question away, I moved a few steps back from Negan and looked to the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing the anger and disappointment in my eyes.

Seeming not to care about my actions, Negan turned to Spencer. "I could never do this with Rick. He would just be standing there, scowling, giving me that annoying side-eye he gives me."

Spencer looked up at Negan then. "That's actually what I came to see you about. I want to talk to you about Rick."

Lining up the ball, Negan shrugged. "All right. Talk to me, Spencer. Talk to me about Rick."

"I get what you're trying to do here, what you're trying to build," Spencer started as Negan took a shot. "I'm not saying I agree with your methods, but I get it. You're building a network. You're making people contribute for the greater good. It makes sense. But you should know that Rick Grimes has a history of not working well with others."

I'm gonna kill this asshole.

"Mm." Negan nodded, taking another shot. "Is that so?"

By now, people had gathered to watch. Even Olivia and Carl had come out of the house to see what was going on. I wasn't sure if it was because Negan and Spencer were playing pool, or if it was because they were talking. But either way, it had their interest.

"Rick wasn't the original leader here. My mum was. She was doing a really good job of it. Then she died, not long after Rick showed up. Same with my brother, same with my dad."

"So, everything was peachy here for, what? Years? And then Rick shows up, and suddenly, you're an orphan?" Negan shook his head. "That is the saddest story I've ever heard."

Before I could stop myself, I cut in, "That's not my dad's fault. Hell, I was there when two of them died. I killed one of them myself." I glared at Spencer. "Don't blame others for shit they didn't do just because you can't stand the fact you're no longer in the spotlight."

Spencer turned to glare at me. "Yeah, you did kill my dad. You left Aiden for dead, too. Let the walkers get to my mum." Anger began to burn in his eyes. "You're just as bad as your father."

"That is it!" I grabbed one of the spare pool cues before lifting my knee and breaking the wooden tool against my leg. "I am going to rip you to shreds!" I yelled, moving for Spencer.

His eyes went wide for a second as he realised I wasn't joking. I was really going to kill him, and that scared the shit out of him.

But before I could get far, Negan grabbed my arm, stopping me. "Whoa there, Sweetheart. Calm down before you hurt someone."

"The plan is to hurt someone," I noted.

I could have fought against him and gotten free. But I was well aware of all his people now watching me, their guns ready to aim and shoot.

Shaking his head, chuckling lightly, Negan leaned over to whisper in my ear. "Calm the fuck down before you make me do something I really don't want to," he warned, though I could still hear the grin on his lips.

Hesitating a moment longer, I continued to glare at Spencer before I relaxed my body and dropped the two sticks, turning my body to face Negan as I did so. "I hope you realise you just pissed me off even more." I glared at him.

He simply laughed as he let me go and kicked the sticks away before turning back to Spencer. "Where were we? Ah, right, Rick. Lucky for you, you don't have to worry. He's not in charge anymore." Negan shrugged.

"Doesn't matter." Spencer moved to take a shot. "His ego's out of control. He'll find a way to screw things up, to try and do things his way, to take over. That's what he did with my mum. That's what he'll do again," he said as he took his shot.

Negan moved to stand near Spencer, taking a sip of his drink before speaking. "What exactly are you proposing be done about that?

"I am my mother's son." Spencer shrugged. "I can be the leader she was. That's what this place needs. That's what you need."

"So I should put you in charge. That's what you're saying?" Negan asked, taking another drink.

"We'd be much better off."

Oh, I am so going to kill this asshole!

RPOV

I was pissed. If it wasn't for the situation, I would have torn these assholes apart. Watching them beat Aaron. If it wasn't for everyone else, I would have killed them all. I could have. It would have been easy to take the gun from the girl and kill every asshole I could see. But I couldn't, so I didn't.

"You're all right. You're all right." I nodded, trying to reassure him and calm myself.

"All right, all right, all right. Point made," the guy who'd opened the gate took a step back from Aaron.

The other guy stepped back as they let us go, watching without saying a word. Now that they were finished, I rushed over to help Aaron get to his feet, putting my arm around him as his went over my shoulders.

Once we were far enough, Aaron finally spoke, keeping his voice low as he did. "My heart's still beating, right?"

Bamby

If you would like to be tagged please send an ask, and tell me what tag-list you want to be added too, it’s just easier to organise this way :):)

Forever Tags:

@kellyn1604 @bunnymelodies @ask-kakashihatake @red-rose-flora @inumorph @multy-fandom-lover

Victoria Grimes:

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say-no-to-this-rp · 4 years

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Sunday, 23rd of July, 2023 - Late afternoon Shell Cottage in Tinworth, Cornwall, UK Snip. Sunlight streams through the window to light up a blurry photo of two blonde girls lounging on the deck of what seems to be a boat. It lies at the top of a stack of photos. Shell Cottage is quiet, all but for the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock and the distant crashing of waves.

Snip. Once again, scissor blades slice through the quiet, sliding through pretty paper into a flower silhouette. “C’est problématique.” Hushed muttering in a mixture of French and English can be heard from the kitchen table. Dominique, setting down the scissors and then rummaging through the stack of photos was visibly irritated.“I need to find more photos of the three of us.” A frustrated sigh escaped her lips but was left unnoticed. If Dom couldn’t find more photos of all three of them, the scrapbook would simply be a visual humble brag of Dom and Teddy’s stupid shenanigans. “So much for a wedding present for the both of them.” “Mooorning.” Came a drawl from the counter. Louis eyed her in amusement empty mug in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other, his back against their marbled counter. “Gone insane, have we Dominique? Talking to yourself like a raving lunatic?” “ Shut your mouth, you brat, or I’ll tell Maman and Papa that you’re smoking inside the cottage.” Dom snapped back, only superficially irritated. She was used to her little brother and his big mouth. He was charming and snarky with people outside the family, enough to have his own little gaggle of girls and boys in his year that latched onto every word of his. But to Dominique, he was always (and really, only because he acts like it) her obnoxious and bratty little brother. Said brat had likely just woken up. He was every bit of a night owl, up and about doing who knows what until the sun would rise and the nearby roosters would screech.

At a leisurely pace, Louis filled his empty mug with cold coffee leftover from the morning pot that Fleur had left on. Idly made his way to the kitchen table. While running a casual hand through his platinum blonde hair that was now spiking up in all direction, Louis dropped himself into the chair opposite Dom. Without asking, he tugged the book to his side of the table and busied himself with the pages before Dominique could stop him, cigarette in his mouth.

There was nothing to hide about the scrapbook.The whole family excluding Victoire knew that Dominique had been working on this DIY project for the past month as a wedding present. The blonde wouldn’t consider herself as somebody who was easily flustered. Nevertheless, she was overcome with the desire to snatch the scrapbook back from Louis, as if this little book held something very private and intimate. For Teddy’s eyes only, as the realization finally dawned on her. Somewhere deep inside her, she knew that the hardest part of making the scrapbook had been including Victoire into the narrative of images. The ideal scrapbook vision that Dominique had in her head did not include her older sister in it.

“Is this really a gift for Ted and Vic? Because if so,” Louis settled on a page with Dom and Teddy sitting at a restaurant, the cringiest, cheesiest cowboy hat on the latter’s head, and a birthday brownie with a sparkler in front of the two. Louis slid it back over with raised eyebrows. “I regret to tell you that you’re doing a shoddy job of it.” “No one asked you.” Dom pointed out. “Really? Because your face screwed up like this,” Louis wrinkled his face in an obvious attempt to mock her, “Made me think you were begging for my advice.” “Feel free to piss off now.” Dominique raised her brows in warning, having switched to heated french now. “Don’t make me do something about that big head of yours, Louis Antoine Weasley. Also -- stop getting ash on my scrapbook.”

With a nonchalant shrug, Louis smirked, now holding the cig loosely between his index and middle finger, and replying in perfect Parisian french back. “If you ask me, maybe try a different present for our happy couple, Dominique.”

Dominique hated that Louis might be right, not that she’d ever admit it. She’d rather hang off a hippogriff butt naked and fly around the front yard of the Burrow than admit to his face that Louis was right. Okay, maybe not the Burrow. She didn’t quite want to face Grandma’s wrath. Hogwarts might work. Regardless, something inside her demanded that she finish the scrapbook. Perhaps she could just give this to Teddy as a birthday present or whatnot. It was clear that she had made the scrapbook with all intentions for Teddy, no matter how much she denied it to herself. As for a wedding present though, Dominique was now fresh out of ideas.

She looked down at the photo of her and Teddy. All she saw was their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders with their wicked grins. Little did she know, these wicked grins were both taunting her and telling her something that she didn’t quite understand yet of what was to come.

Friday, 18th of July, 2023

Lysander Scamander thought that when Dominique Weasley, Lucy Weasley, and himself were talking about having the best summer ever, he thought that meant being interns at the Quibbler. Now, in theory, an internship with all three of them sounded like a bloody brilliant idea. In reality, it meant that the three Hogwarts students were spending their summer doing the most tedious, menial jobs that could be found at the magazine. This was even despite Lysander being all but the heir of the whole damn company. And this was why the trio found themselves copy editing late into the night, two days away from their next release and not a single other soul in the office.

Crossing one final word, Dominique leapt up after throwing down her quill in satisfaction. "I am officially the winner. Bow before me peasants. I am done and shall be leaving now. Please enjoy watching my back as I sashay out the office."

“I always do.” Lys piped up, sliding his office chair over to peer intently at Dominique’s stack of work, a bright blue quill tucked behind his ear. “It’s a great view.”

Dominique couldn’t help but snort at her best friend.“Sure you do, Lys. Then make sure to look real close then Lys. You don’t want to miss the show.”

Lucy, her other best friend in the entire world, groaned, "You've got to be kidding me. There's no way you're done that fast." The red-head looked up from her work to blow her hair out of her face and to promptly send a suspicious glare her cousin’s way.

“Ahh. But tis the truth, my dear Lucky.” The blonde was practically dancing as she packed her purse up. Blowing a kiss, her farewell was met with a scowl from Lucky and an easy smile from Lys. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.” She called back.

Dom jumped the stairs two at a time, and burst out of the building. Having just worked more than a twelve hour work day, she was ecstatic to taste freedom. In her excitement, she almost missed the figure who was casually leaned against the side of the building. “Fancy meeting you here.” With a start, Dom caught sight of Teddy. If she were to guess, probably waiting for her outside considering he immediately tossed the cigarette from his fingers as soon as he saw her. She approached him as he ground it under her shoe.

Taking in the number of cigarette butts on the floor, she wondered just how many cigarettes he had burned through while waiting for her.

Questioning look now. "Please tell me you haven't been waiting here for hours. I'm a big girl. I can walk home." “Not multiple hours, but more than an hour,” Teddy said cheerfully, not an ounce of annoyance in his voice, as if waiting an hour was nothing.

Even as they spoke, the two were already walking, falling into step with each other at a leisurely pace. Now that she was in fresh summer night, she was in no rush to get home. Especially with the heat chilled from the crisp night air, Dominique was more than happy to lengthen their walk. She occupied herself with explaining to Teddy about the “joy” of copy editing a weird article on a magical healing theory from pygmy puff piss (and truthfully, teddy should really recognize what an honour and gem that he was getting such a cool sneak preview of the Quibbler’s next edition).

When the two reach a forked road where they should turn right, the two wordlessly merely glanced at each other before shrugging and turning left instead. As they passed a park, Dom pointed at it with her thumb excitedly, already walking backwards towards it. Smirking, Teddy couldn’t help but follow along, “Yeah, alright, why not?”.

With a squeal of delight, Dom jumped onto the swing set. Soon enough, the two had killed more than half an hour. That was simply how they always were. Chatting was as easy as breathing for the two, conversation never dulling. Both of them had settled on adjacent swings, and Dominique laughed mid-conversation as she begun to swing higher, just like she used to as a kid. Beginning to pump her legs with more strength, she met Teddy’s eyes in a daring challenge. Teddy, with a matching devilish look on his face, was already kicking his long legs in response. “Oh, yeah?” Their hoots of laughter filled the small playground. Bracing himself, Teddy jumped off the swing into the sand.

The blonde similarly threw herself off the swing, landing just inches farther. Throwing her arms up like a gymnast executing a perfect landing, she twirled around gracefully, her face triumphant. "You're buying grub now, ye loser." Teddy is practically bowled over in laughter at this point. “How is that even possible, I have longer legs!” But he’s grinning and clearly not opposed to paying. The part-veela was doing everything but preening herself in light of her victory. "I'm nimble and athletic." Wickedly, she paused, as her grin got bigger. "Or maybe you're just getting old. Losing your touch." Dropping that truth bomb, she began to walk away quickly as if she was jokingly fleeing the scene. Soon enough,Teddy had caught up to her, his long legs finally serving their purpose. “Old? I’m only eight years older than you!” He mock-scolded, jogging to her side, “If I’m old, you’re at least middle-aged.” Dominique couldn’t keep in her laugh as Teddy morphed his face to show an obscene amount of wrinkles, giving her the perfect elderly glare. He looked exactly like Grandmaman Delacour when one of them had done something terrible. Their laughter melded together as Teddy simply couldn’t hold back his own laughter nor his glare any longer.

Dominique shook her head as they began to walk in some aimless direction, "I'm middle aged?” She countered. “You're the one getting married. You'll blink and there will be little Teddys and Vics. Blimey, I feel for the world already." The blonde scrunched her face at even the thought of another Victoire or another Teddy. The world was not ready.

Teddy seemed to laugh heartily at the thought. “I do too. I was a menace, I can only imagine what my kids will be like,” He said, while shaking his head, “I don’t even want to think about it” Squinting his eyes thoughtfully up at the sky as if Teddy could magically read the time from its shade, he casually looked over his shoulder at the girl. “Shall we head back?”

Dominique followed his gaze to the dark sky lit up by the streetlights, and relished how happy she felt. It was mundane moments like these that reminded her just how much she treasured Teddy as one of her best friends. It made his marriage to Victoire just the teensiest of bitter-sweet. Since the day she could remember, Dominique had accepted that she would be second to Victoire in Teddy’s life. No matter how close Teddy and her were, if Vic and Dom fell into the sea and only one could be saved, Dom knew in her heart who Teddy had to save. But it was nice that in moments by themselves, she could have her best friend to herself. It was just Dominique Weasley and Teddy Lupin. Them against the world.

But of course, soon enough Victoire and Teddy will be til death do they part, and officially, everyone will be second to Victoire in every which way.

But until then, Dominique could be just a bit more greedy concerning her best friend. She merely fluttered her lashes in response to Teddy’s question. “Could we stop for shawarma? I’m ravenous.”

Her big sister could wait for her fiance just a little longer.

Monday, 7th of August, 2023 - Late Afternoon Brew Crew Coffee Bar in Mayfair, London, UK

“No, it’s fine, don’t bother her if she’s in a meeting. If she asks later, tell her I said I’d figure it out,” Teddy was saying, “Hey, and thanks for letting me know.”

Dominique quietly sipped her vanilla latte, noting that Teddy was growing more and more dejected as the conversation continued with Vic’s assistant. I’m not surprised that she is standing us up. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. The Potter-Weasley cousins often teased Dominique when she was late (it really wasn’t her fault that make-up and the perfect wardrobe choices takes time and effort), and that they tended to plan their days around Dominique’s schedule. As much as Dom admitted sometimes it was a bit of a “Dominique’s World”, she didn’t think she could even hold a candle to when Vic wanted things her way. Dom couldn’t help but make exasperated faces at various points during the phone call, knowing that her face revealed just how umimpressed she was with Victoire. By the time that Teddy gets off the phone, Dom had finished off her latte and she set down the cup with a sigh. "I see the Queen is unable to bless us with her presence today. So are we going to figure out the cake today without Vic?"

“If we don’t, the Queen will have our heads,” Teddy teased. At his words, Dominique tried not to make another face on impulse. It was never fair how Vic prioritized her work over their wedding. That Dominique probably knew more about the details of Vic and Teddy’s wedding than the actual bride was almost pathetic. Although trying to shake it off, Teddy was clearly still bothered by Victoire’s last minute decision to stand up her own wedding cake appointment. That was always what Teddy did when Vic prioritized everything else over Teddy. He was just determined to make the best of it. “Should we just... pick one without her?” He frowned. “Vic probably cares more about how it looks than how it tastes, anyway.”

Dominique was more than frustrated at her sister, and at the unfairness of the situation. But it was no good if she lashed out now. In fact, Teddy was more than aware of how mad Dom felt sometimes on behalf of him at how Vic treated him. Sisters or not, Dom refused to condone her sister’s behaviour. But it’s not your place, really. She told herself. Instead, she did her best to give Teddy an easy smile. Bloody hell Vic. She’d be the cheery one here for Teddy. At least there would be one Delacour-Weasley sister here who actually cared enough. If Vic wouldn’t be excited about this wedding cake tasting, then Dom would be. "Well we have an appointment with the bakery to taste them, right? What did that queen say, Marie Antoinette was it? What did she say? Let's eat cake?" She stood up to pull Teddy to his feet. "So let's eat cake, Teddy! And if you find a cake that you can't say no to, then just pick it. Vic won't eat more than her pinky finger, anyway."

As if her smile and enthusiasm was contagious, Dominique saw the tension leave Teddy’s shoulder, visibly watching him return to normal if only to smirk back. “Alright, lets eat cake,” he agreed. Looking down at his watch, he noted that. “We should probably run, though, before they eat all that cake themselves.“

The two made their way from Brew Crew to the small gourmet bakery, Kowalski Charmed, a small artisan bakery where they liked to take a very personal approach to their wedding cakes. Managing to book a tasting appointment would take forever to book. Because of that, perhaps it was better that they were still going ahead with the cake tasting. As they entered the little white building, the bells chimed above them and Dominique was immediately smothered in an overwhelming cloud of vanilla, sugar, and chocolate. The interior was colourful and pink, with displays of fresh baked goods and pictures of bright cakes lining the walls.

The baker, a woman with long luscious brunette hair, greeted them with a smile clearly expecting them. With her American accent, she chirped, "Good afternoon, are you the happy couple here for the wedding cake taste-testing?" Hearing that, Dominique hesitated, unsure of how to introduce herself. Sorry, actually no. I’m the bride’s sister. Yes, I know it’s weird that she’s not interested in her own wedding cake, but c’est la vie, right? She gave a quick glance at Teddy, but decided that it’d probably be best to get it over with. As she opened her mouth to correct the lady, beside her, Teddy spoke up.

“Yeah, that’s us,” He was flashing his usual winning smile to the baker, subtly winking at Dom as she practically hit him in the face with her hair at how fast she had whipped her head back to look at him. “I hope we’re not too late?” He continued. “Bit of a mix up with the time, it was my mistake.” Oh, she knew exactly what was happening now. She had seen Teddy’s mischievous shit-eating grin more times than she could count to know it was game time.

Dom smiled politely without skipping a beat as soon as Teddy answered the baker. The only way anyone would have caught that she was startled by his answer was the slightest clenching of her jaw, and a barely noticeable tightness to her smile. Succeeding at not immediately rolling her eyes back so hard that she knocked herself out at the sight of Teddy's stupid grin, she immediately attached herself to Teddy's arm. "That's me. The fiancee." She said brightly. As soon as the baker turned her back momentarily to check which samples that they had ordered, she widened her eyes at Teddy and mouthed very obviously, "What are you doing?" .

Teddy made sure that the baker was far enough away from them not to overhear, and then whispered back, ”What makes you think I know? Play along.” Dominique stifled a laugh, turning the sound into a slight clearing of her throat. That was right about the epitome of a Teddy answer. Many of their shenanigans really came about because neither of them ever knew what they were doing. They simply did it. Teddy was now giving her another look though. It was amazing how if you spent more than a decade with someone, you started to know exactly what their varying expressions were. This one was what Dom liked to call his “safety word” face. It was his reminder that no matter what mischief they were up to, he always wanted Dom to know that if she got uncomfortable, she could back out. Of course, in the same decade of recognizing this look, Dom had never taken him up on the offer. And she wasn’t about to start now.

The baker returned, still oblivious to the ruse that she was unbeknownst to her had taken part in. They were led to one of the tables by the front window of the store, as she began to outline to them the process. They had requested for a full frosted cake (”Of course, the more sugary the better. I don’t need to watch my weight at all.” Dom said to the baker, entirely straight-faced.), as well as ten possible samples to choose from.

As if a switch had flipped, Dominique was now the ever-doting, and perhaps too clingy fiancee. Her hand had moved down from his arm to his hands, intertwining their fingers. She pulled him to the table that had been set up for them, and in a sickeningly sweet voice, declared, "This way, you delicious piece of kidney pie."

She took delight in how Teddy’s eyes went wide. Obviously surprised, he was about to burst into laughter until he managed to de-escalate it into a respectable chuckle. “Anything you say, Snuggie Woogems.”

Dominique tried not to retch at the ridiculous pet name. It had sent a ridiculous shiver up her spine at how gross they were being, but she just couldn’t stop, especially now that his intention was loud and clear:Two can play at this game. As they sat, Teddy sat down on the same side as her and made a point of scooting his chair a little closer to hers, so he could casually drape his arm over the back of her chair.

Well-played, sir. Dominique wondered what she could do next. This was all to get back at Teddy. He had been the one who wanted to play, so they were going to have fun. The baker introducing their first cake, chocolate cappuccino torte, solved Dom’s dilemma over what her next steps would be. Dom dug her fork into the beautiful cupcake, making sure to cut an unnecessarily large chunk. Bringing the monster of a bite close to Teddy's mouth, she exhibited her voice like she was speaking in a bad Shakespearean play, "Say ahhhhhhhh, my little stud monkey." Was she using the most cringe-worthy pet names that she had ever heard? Absolutely.

Teddy eyed the piece warily, looking as if he wanted to make a comment before he thought better of it. Dominique could almost taste it now. The delicious sweetness of victory. Shaking his head ever so slightly, he leaned in and wrapped his hand over hers on the fork. Surprised, Dominique tried not to move her hand at all. If they were soon-to-be-married, she wasn’t going to be uncomfortable with her ‘fiance’ grabbing her hand. It wasn’t even like they had never held hands. Neither of them would blink twice at it. It was the way Teddy had leaned in and bit into the cake, in a manner that one might even describe as seductively. Well, as seductively as he could with a bite of cake the size of a small fist. But Teddy somehow made it sensual. Dominique felt the strangest sensation.Teddy can make anything look sensual if he wanted to. He’s that handsome. She admitted to herself. Lucky Vic. Finally, he leaned back, removing his hand from hers and while laughing and chewing, he joked, “Maybe a smaller piece next time, Sweet Pea?”

Eyes bright and clearly amused by Dom’s antics, they suddenly rolled down to take a closer look at the cake. “Shit, this is actually really good, you have to try this.”

His comment broke the girl’s daze. Remembering their real task before them, Dom tried a small bite of the cupcake with her fork. The creamy goodness dragged a hum of delight from her lips. "Delicieux. Oh, this mousse is out of this world." The blonde then nudged Teddy with her elbow, "I'm not surprised. You're a sucker for anything that has caffeine in it."

#mina #dominique #post

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scrapyardboyfriends · 7 years

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22 June 2017

[The Cafe (The New Mill) with Robert, Aaron, Victoria and Rebecca]

VICTORIA: Hey, I’m wearing butterflies today in an effort to get the fans to like me again because I know how much they liked your butterfly blanket. (Fandom: You’re going to have to do more than that Vic) Also...Look, I care about other people besides your unborn child. Harriet’s still in a coma as a result of your latest failed plan that I know nothing about.

AARON: I’m sure she’ll pull through. The Sun hasn’t announced that she is leaving yet.

VICTORIA: How did she even end up being involved in your scheme?

ROBERT: Look, Emma got involved with the Plot, okay! It’s not our fault. And my plan did not fail, it actually worked brilliantly. I just didn’t know there were actual drug dealers involved. So get off my back.

*Rebecca Enters* (Fandom: Sigh…)

ROBERT: *Oh god, not the Plot Face* I’m busy...doing literally anything else, but mostly enjoying a nice meal with my #BeautifulHusband and my sister who for once has other words coming out of her mouth other than ‘Baby’. I mean, we could have been having this meal in our brand new kitchen on that brand new set they built for us, but unfortunately we had to have it here because there’s no way I’m just letting you stroll into my new house ever again, so the cafe it is. But I’m really not ready for this Plot Point yet so, don’t ruin it yeah?

REBECCA: Sorry, due to the other Plot I’m tangentially involved in, I now really care about paternity. Also, The Plot gave me a heads up that Aaron is pushing you to talk to me. So, here I am, ready to talk about our baby’s future!

AARON: *I still hate this fucking Plot even if I’m trying to be there for my husband Face*

ROBERT: Wait...didn’t you want to do this on your own, on your own terms and all that? I thought everyone was content to leave me out of it. This Plot Baby’s not even born yet and it’s already taking over all of my screen time.

VICTORIA: Robert! BABY! - yep, I’m back to that again -

REBECCA: It’s no use Vic, your secret plan to get him to care by me suddenly doing a 180 on how I feel about his involvement didn’t work. Sorry. I’m just going to take my literal hat and go. - seriously, why am I just carrying this thing around if I’m not going to wear it? -

VICTORIA: Why don’t you care about the BABY?!

ROBERT: *Eye Roll*

AARON: No, she’s right Robert, we talked about this. I’m putting aside my own feelings to be supportive for you, so...get to it….oh fine...BABY! Happy Vic?

ROBERT: *Eye Roll* *Oh great now it’s both of them Face* Fine...if it will get both of you off my back for a bit, next time Plot contrivances put us in the same room, I’ll talk to her.

VICTORIA: *Well it’s a start Face*

AARON: *I know this genre doesn’t do time jumps but can we please do one so we can all move on Face*

[Main Street with Robert, Aaron and Finn]

*Robert and Aaron walk down the street together* (Fandom: Hold hands, you’re married!!!)

FINN: Have you seen Ross?

*Robert and Aaron keep walking* (Fandom: No really, why aren’t you holding hands?)

FINN: Stop ignoring me! I really need to ask you a question! Uhhh…..Cain! That’ll do it!

AARON: Cain? Now suddenly I care.

ROBERT: Aaron, I still don’t care. Let’s just go back to that set no one will ever see again...get some non Plot time for ourselves before our next scheduled visit to the cafe.

FINN: But he heard me talking about the drugs because I was an idiot and was talking out loud to a coma patient...yes, I know this isn’t the first time. Anyway, now Ross has vanished and I’m a tiny bit worried that maybe he’s learning a little bit more about how our dad died without any of us realizing it because that Plot is still dragging on.

ROBERT: Look, I already got scolded by my husband for going too far with that, so I’d just prefer to stay out of it from now on. Was that better Aaron?

FINN: Well, then you shouldn’t have stolen our stolen drugs in the first place then! Look if Cain’s involved, I’m hardly going to be able to do anything about it.

AARON: *Ugh why are we involved in any of these stupid Plots Face* Why do you keep going on about Cain? I don’t even understand how he got mixed up in this Plot?

FINN: I don’t know. There’s clearly something we’re all missing. But that’s par for the course. #LetTheTheoryLive

ROBERT: Come on Aaron, please, can we go back. We’re running out of non Plot time. I really just want to cuddle on the sofa at the Mill with you for a while. Maybe we can even make a reference to it at some point later down the line that we like to cuddle on the sofa and then the Fandom can be upset that they’ve never seen it.

AARON: Sorry Finn, I’m sick of all of these Plots and I really do want some non Plot time with my #AlmostQuiteFitHusband But if I hear anything, I’ll let you know.

[The Cafe (where else) with Victoria, Rebecca, Robert and Aaron]

VICTORIA: *Carrying Milk* - I’m sure this could mean something….- Sorry Robert isn’t as obsessed with the BABY as I am.

REBECCA: That’s hardly your fault. It must have been like whiplash for him, me all of a sudden wanting him to be involved. I know it is for me, my mind constantly changing all the time.

VICTORIA: I did tell him he needed to start caring. Are you okay? - at least I’m mostly speaking in my normal voice today -

REBECCA: This other Plot I’m involved in with Chrissie has really made me reconsider everything. It’s why this Plot sent me to talk to Robert. She’s so single mindedly focused on finding out about her birth father even though my dad is making it near impossible because he can’t figure out how to stop lying ALL THE TIME. It’s really messed her up, not knowing who her real dad is.

VICTORIA: And you don’t want that for the BABY? (Tinfoil Hat Fandom: Stop saying things like this! #LetTheTheoryLive)

REBECCA: I’m not going to force him into anything. I’ll leave that up to you. But I’m sure everyone, including my “BFF Aaron”, would be happy if he was just honest about how he feels about the Plot Baby already. I’m tired of seeing his Conflicted Face all the time.

*Door opens and Robert and Aaron walk in*

VICTORIA: Well that was impeccable timing. Robert, I trust you’re ready to talk about the BABY now if I leave you to it?

ROBERT: *Oh here we go Face*

*Victoria and Aaron awkwardly stand by the counter trying to remember that they used to be friends* (Me: Doesn’t that milk need to be refrigerated?)

REBECCA: Look Robert. I only came back because the Plot made me. I’m not trying to ruin your life with my Plot Baby. I promise!

ROBERT: Sure...So...let’s get this over with. We’re certainly not the A Plot in this episode, so we don’t have a lot of time to go in depth here.

REBECCA: We need to work out what to say to Plot Baby when it asks about its father. #LetTheTheoryLive #GetADNATest

ROBERT: Uhhh...we’re a few years away from that. Who knows if any of us will still be around. (Fandom: YOU’RE NEVER ALLOWED TO LEAVE!!!)

REBECCA: I want to put you on the birth certificate, make it official…

ROBERT: *Why didn’t I ask for a DNA test Face*

*Up at the counter*

VICTORIA: I’m going to use my normal voice and talk to you like we’re friends Aaron even though I’ve totally ignored how you feel about all of this. But look! They’re not throwing things at each other.

AARON: Yet. He’ll be alright though. The Plot wants him to care about this Baby so he probably will at some point.

VICTORIA: I hope so. Well...I should really put this milk in the refrigerator so it doesn’t go bad. Tell me all about his progress on the BABY front later.

AARON: Yep, that’s my sole purpose in life. *Smiles like we’re still good friends and you haven’t totally replaced me for Plot purposes with the woman who’s still potentially ruining my marriage*

*Back to Rebecca and Robert*

REBECCA: I know what lies can do to people (Tinfoil Hat Fandom: Seriously?!) I want my baby to know where they came from. (Tinfoil Hat Fandom: Stop it! But no, don’t stop! #LetTheTheoryLive) Even if it is less than ideal #UnderstatementOfTheCentury

ROBERT: Sounds like you really don’t need me in this Plot at all? Congrats on finally making a decision yourself.

REBECCA: But no wait, I need you to validated it.

ROBERT: Do what you like. I need to get back to my #BeautifulHusband

REBECCA: *Rapid Blinking* *Even I hate this Plot Face*

*On different sofas with Robert and Aaron*

AARON: So...how’s the Plot?

ROBERT: Sucks, like usual, but it’s fine, I guess.

AARON: Remember that time in my vows where I said I was going to be the best husband I could be and then I bought that world’s greatest husband mug, totally for myself, well I’m going to be proving those things right again. If you actually want to be a part of the Plot Baby’s life, I’m going to try really hard to be cool with it because I want to support you. You just need to let me know. I know, honesty isn’t your strong suit, but you have been getting a bit better with that lately.

ROBERT: *Heart Eyes* *Probably puts hand on Aaron’s thigh* (Fandom: What the hell, Cameraman?! Surely that was important!!!) Nothing’s changed, Aaron. I still want nothing to do with this godforsaken Plot.

AARON: *I’m nodding but I don’t believe a word you’re saying because eventually the Plot will make you care about this Plot Baby Face* but *Heart Eyes because I know you think you’re doing this for me*

ROBERT: *Looks at Rebecca* *I fucking hate this Plot Face*

[The Woolpack with Robert and Ross]

ROSS: Charity’s working so...we could be a while…

ROBERT: You’re not wrong there. Heard anything about the latest unintended consequence of one of my revenge schemes? - even if this one totally is not my fault -

ROSS: Yeah...Harriet will be fine. I’m sure since she’s been briefed on our Plot with Rebecca and has given you a lecture, that she’d be happy to hear from you once she gets out of hospital.

ROBERT: You look like you should have gone to A&E yourself. Cain?

ROSS: Yep. I’m okay though...thanks for asking. - I think that was supposed to be sarcastic but I’m off my game a bit today -

ROBERT: Could have been a lot worse...trust me, I’ve been there.

ROSS: Relieved you’re not getting blamed for this?

ROBERT: Yeah, but i guess none of us come out well on this one. I’ve already gotten the lecture from the husband on that one. At least this Plot Point is over now.

ROSS: Hardly! We could still go to prison, have Cain or those pesky drug dealers after us, oh, and we still have no money for anything and no business to help earn more! Thanks for that. #LetTheTheoryLive

ROBERT: *Yeah...sorry about that but the Plot wants what it wants Face* - I should know. Is Charity still not back yet? Aaron and I ran out of booze in our giant alcohol fridge. We need reinforcements for our non Plot time and the Plot made me come here instead of the Shop -

#robron #emmerdale #plotdale #actually got some good material out of this episode #hope people are still enjoying these

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