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writefightandflightclub · 3 years

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Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper @witchyavenger @veuliee2 @waatermelon-sugaar @pascal-isaac

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta @isvvc-pvscvl @nowritingonthewall @supernovafeather (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

#richard alonso muñoz x reader #Richard Alonso Muñoz #the letter room #richard alonso munoz x reader #oscar isaac #richard alonso-munoz x reader #luna's tumblrversary

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chronicallycrow · 3 years

Text

Cards.

Fandom: Cookie Run

Character(s): Cinnamon Cookie

Ship(s): Cinnamon/Reader

Word Count: 2,166

TW: Uhh,,, tarot reading? If that sets anyone off?

Notes: Hey, Cinnamon, thanks for being the character that got me out of my "I'm writing 1k words or less" fic phase./j Anyway, this started as an idea I mentioned on my main - Black-market tarot reading Cinnamon. It ended up a lot cuter than I thought it would, and made me write a HELL of a lot more than I have in a LONG time. Oh, and, I use he/they pronouns for Cinnamon! They alternate every paragraph. And, once again, I'm sorry for the weird formatting, mobile tumblr and all. Again, I don't currently have access to a computer.

The City of Wizards was an interesting place. It always had a specific feel to it, and it was always somehow shrouded in darkness yet bright. Saying you loved this place might have been an understatement. There weren't many people who lived in the town anymore - Some people thought no one did - But you knew there were people, and you knew exactly where to go to find them. And that's what you were currently doing.

You strolled through the city, looking for one place in particular. It was near one of the further corners of the town - A small little magic shop that sat inbetween two buildings that were vacant. You could miss it if you didn't know what you were looking for - The sign, with that ever-so-slightly too fancy font, fit into the rest of the town, and the windows being full of little trinkets did as well.

You turned on your heel and turned the door knob, immediately being hit by the scent of incense and cinnamon. You walked into the shop and closed the door, calling out, "Cinna?" A hum came from behind one of the shelves, and out appeared the devil themself, Cinnamon. "Hey!" You stated simply. They smiled at you and returned your greeting before asking, "Do you need anything, or are you just here to look around?" Either was fine by them - And you knew that. There was many a day where you'd sit in the shop or just look through what Cinnamon had in stock.

"Well, I-' He seemed surprised you actually wanted something, but not in a bad way. "I was actually wondering if you could-- Give me a reading? With your tarot cards?" He was a bit taken back, but seemed pleased with your request. "Of course! Right this way." He did that over-dramatic cape swish thing. It always reminded you he loved to entertain people when he did that. You followed him to a small room in the back where he did readings - Few people knew about it, but of course few people came in the near vicinity of his shop.

A table sat in the middle with some boxes and a mat laid on it. Cinnamon sat down on one side and gestured you to sit in the chair on the other side. You'd never actually gotten a reading from them, but apparently they were actually pretty good at it. They opened a box and pulled out a deck of golden-edged cards, the backs were purple. They tapped at the sides, before looking at you. "What do you want to know?" "My love life-" You blurted out before anything else. You covered your mouth, wide eyed. Why had you said that?! Cinnamon seemed to be amused by this and let out a soft laugh before beginning to shuffle the cards.

He did the card-fan thing. "Pick a card, any card!" You let out a soft laugh before grabbing one. He placed it face down on the table before shuffling the cards some more. He pulled and shuffled a handful of times, ending up with a spread of six cards. He flipped over the card you'd pulled. The card read, 'The Fool.' "This card," Cinnamon began, picking it up and turning it towards you, "represents you. It's a card that means new beginnings and new possibilities. It can also mean impulsiveness. The Fool is..." Cinnamon glanced up for a moment, before looking you in the eyes. "The Fool is a free spirit who doesn't know exactly what they want, but is willing to try anything to find the right path." And with that, he placed the card back down onto the table.

They flipped over the next card; it read 'The Magician.' "This card represents the person who... You're going to be with? Who you like? This is the other person." They turned it towards you. "You're a magician." You joked, giving a soft breath of a laugh. Cinnamon's face turned a soft shade of red from your comment, but continued on. (Little did either of you know that little joke was closer to the truth than either of you could think right now.) "It symbolizes being original, and confidence and skills. They might be extremely confident in their actions, and they're probably skilled in something." You placed your chin in your palm, staring at the card, then at Cinnamon.

He went to the next card. It read 'The Lovers.' "This card represents you and that person's bond." He stated. "That's good, isn't it?" He nodded in response before starting, "This card represents, well, love. It can also mean trust and harmany." "But I'm not in a relationship with anyone?" You mused. He shrugged. "You probably already know them and just trust them a lot. You two are probably already really close." You nodded, but something pulled at your conciousness. What if your joke was actually true? If he was the one representing the magician? "Hey," He waved a hand infront of your face, "Are you alright?" "Yeah, sorry- Go on." You sat back, and he turned over the next card.

The card read 'six of cups.' "This is your past with them, it represents nostalgia and, in this case, an old friend." You nodded, humming. "It seems like you two have known each other for a long time and trust eachother a lot." They stated simply. You traced a circle on the table with your hand. It was suddenly very hard to look at Cinnamon.

He turned over the next card. There was one more after this and you'd be done. It read 'two of cups.' Cinnamon let out a soft laugh. You tilted your head, actually meeting his eyes for a second. "This is your future with this person. The two of cups represents happy relationships and love. When you two get into a relationship it'll be a good one. I'm jealous." He said jokingly. You let out a small laugh. Your face was hot.

They finally turned over the last card. It read 'King of Wands.' "This card is advice for you." You tilted your head again, murmuring a soft, but non-demanding, "Well?" "I think in this context it's telling you you should be honest with them and tell them. It represents honesty and charm." You blinked. Cinnamon looked at the spread, then bagan to put the cards up. You looked down at your hands for a minute. Be honest? You hadn't excepted that. You didn't even realize you were-- Of course you were. Cinnamon was your closest friend. They stood up, snapping you out of your own thoughts. You stood as well. "Do you need anything else?" They asked, walking towards the door. "I don't think so- Here, let me-" You dug around your bag for a minute for your wallet. "No, it's fine-" "Are you sure?" They nodded.

You two got out into the main part of the shop, and you realized the time. It was dark outside by now - Actually dark. "Hey, Cinna?" He looked at you. "Can I spend the night - It's- It's gonna be dark out and I have to walk home. I don't think that's safe." Without thought he spoke, "Of course- Let me close up shop and we'll go upstairs and make dinner." You nodded and decided to look around while he did so. You found the two shop cats, one a black cat and one an orange cat. "You have cats?" You called. He walked over to you, kneeling down to pet one of them. "Yeah! I thought you knew?" You shook your head. "This is Pumpkin," He pointed towards the orange one. "She's new, so she doesn't have a name yet," He sighed. "Maybe you can name her later?" You nodded, "I'll see what I can come up with." With that the two of you headed up the stairs to Cinnamon's apartment.

It was a nice little space. You'd been up here before, but you'd never actually spent the night. They went into the kitchen while you looked around, eventually landing near Cinnamon Bunny's cage and giving them some pets. Cinnamon's apartment always smelt nice. They always smelt nice - It was that soft smell of a pastry shop that used a lot of cinnamon. They seemed to have the stuff everywhere, but you weren't going to complain too much - Unless it was another one of their shows where someone got too close and sneezed. Sometimes, in practice, when you'd watch them, they'd sneeze and mess up their tricks. You found it endearing.

"[Y/N]?" Cinnamon called. "Yeah?" "Food's ready." You walked into the kitchen. He'd made a full meal for you two, and honest to Millennial Tree it looked amazing. It tasted even better. You'd had Cinnamon's cooking on occasion, but never an actual meal made by him. As soon as you two had finished the oven beeped. He looked pleased. "I preheated it, if you want to make something for tomorrow morning?" You nodded, and followed him into the kitchen, placing your plate and silverware into the sink. He pulled out a series of things from multiple cupboards and cabinets, then grabbed out aprons and handed you one.

You two ended up making a mess while baking. There was flour everywhere, but you two were both laughing. They ended up getting two brooms, and you swept up the mess you made. Once that was done they looked over the both of you. "We should get cleaned up," they laughed. You nodded, before realizing something. "Cinna, I don't have-" "You can borrow some of my clothes." They hummed. You nodded, and they went off to get some, shouting back at you, "You can go take a shower if you want, I'll bring them to you." You did exactly that.

You felt much cleaner once done with the shower. He had left you a shirt that looked like it would be too big for him (or you) and a pair of sweatpants. You put them on, and were immediately ingulfed by that soft scent of cinnamon. You tried your hardest not to bury your nose in the clothing, instead leaving the bathroom. You were met with Cinnamon sitting on the couch, playing around with a deck of cards. You sat beside him, watching his hands as he played with the deck. "Are those alright?" He asked, flicking one card around. You nodded, letting out an "mh-hm." He got up then, and glanced at you. "I'm gonna go take a shower, too. I'll be back."

You ended up trying to do the tricks you saw Cinnamon do with the previously mentioned deck of cards. You failed at every one of them, but it gave you time to waste. Your mind did end up drifting back to the reading earlier. Cinnamon had to feel the same way, right? If the cards were anything to go by, they had to. You sighed and put the playing cards down, staring up. You then realized that you'd have to be sleeping on the couch - Not that you really minded. You knew they didn't have a guest room or an extra bed. Before you could get too lost in your thoughts Cinnamon appeared again. They were wearing about the same thing as you. The oven dinged. Convenient.

"I'll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed, by the way." He'd stated, as if he'd read your mind earlier, while pulling out the pan of cinnamon rolls. What else did you think he'd make? "No, I can- It's fine." You replied. He shook his head. "You're the guest, you should get the bed." He was pouring a light sugar icing on the rolls. "I-" Be more confident, the cards. "We could just-- Share the bed? Its big enough for that, right?" Cinnamon glanced at you, before letting out a small sigh. It was hard to tell if it was of content or annoyance that you didn't just take the bed alone. "Yeah, it is- That's fine."

Once the rolls had been fully iced and put in the fridge you two headed to Cinnamon's bedroom and got in their bed. You faced away from eachother, at least at first, but you decided to, again, take what the cards said, and turned towards them. Their back was facing towards you. "Cinna?" You murmured, shifting closer to them. They let out a hum, glancing back at you. You suddenly felt extremely hot. No going back now. "I-" You took a breath in. Dammit. Say it. "I think the cards were talking about you??" Why was that a question. They let out a small laugh and turned towards you. "I know." They responded simply before pulling you close to them. "Goodnight." And with that, they closed their eyes and drifted into sleep. You stayed there, dumbfounded for a couple of minutes, before just accepting it and murmuring a, "goodnight" back and getting to sleep. You two could properly talk this out in the morning.

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cinnamon cookie #crob #ovenbreak #cr ovenbreak #fanfiction #fanfic #x reader fanfic #x reader #cookie run x reader #AM writes

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defultuser · 3 years

Text

Britverse fic

Inspired by this post. Thanks to @theladyfae and the whole britgate team for your help

As the bell rings Julie looks round her music class. Luke is diligently scribbling in his notebook, she thinks music is the only class where he’s not racing to leave as soon as it's possible for him to do so. While the rest of the class leave Julie silently motions to Mrs Harrison, a request for her and her friends to stay in her class during lunch. After receiving confirmation and watching Harrison leave Julie pulls out her phone to see a text from Flynn in the group chat, an offer to get food from the cafeteria for anyone that wants; Julie replies with a thumbs up and sandwich emoji before letting them know to come music once they have food.

Turning back round she sees the class is empty but herself, Luke and Carrie; who pulls out her salad before throwing her pen at Luke’s head effectively waking him from his musical coma. With Luke’s attention back on them Julie asks, “Did you want to practice for the performance Saturday while we wait for the others?”

It's a pretty certain bet Luke will do just about anything with the promise of music so it comes as no surprise when in place of an answer he stands and grabs his guitar. The pair begin to sing through the song while Carrie eats and watches, preparing feedback.

“That song is fit my g’s”

No matter how many years Julie has lived in the UK she will never understand a word that comes out of Reggie Peter’s mouth. Just last week he called her pencil case, phone, and both her parents peng, apparently it's a compliment. Putting down his guitar Luke walks over to his friends and begins a handshake far too complex for people that ‘don’t care for all that stupid friendship stuff’. Willie joins her and they take their seats on the tables with their feet on the chairs.

“How was media? Miss like your homework?” She turns and asks the guys.

“Her lessons are so dead man, Miss Ellis is so dry” Reggie answers she gives Bobby a confused look,

“Bad, he’s saying that it was boring, as always.” He translates as he pulls Reggie into his lap where he’s sitting in Harrison's chair. Cause yeah that's a thing now. Despite spending most of year 9 fighting and most of year 10 deep into school conspiracies, they both accidentally came out just before the start of year 11 and they've been sort of romantic ever since; by romantic she means they go Mcdonalds as a pair and have been caught on one too many occasions making out in various classrooms. But they seem happy enough so none of the group questions it.

Julie's internal monologue is cut short by the arrival of Flynn and therefore food.

“Food!’ Julie screams as if announcing it to the group, as she heads over to Flynn to collect her lunch, an unappealing pasta and bottle of water. Nick sets about handing out food for the rest of the group that asked for some.

“Hotdog” Willie calls as Alex makes his way over to him and takes Julie's spot, with a kiss on the cheek Willie asks, “How was class?”

“Not too bad, we had a test but it was on what I revised last night.”

“Lucky bitch!” Flynn calls from where they're sitting, feet half in Carrie’s lap “some of us had netball so didn't study.”

“Probably should have studied, would have been better than your help at the game.” Carrie argues which sets off a chain reaction.

“What are you trying to suggest? At least I didn't spend 45 minutes making sure my tracksuit looked good. A tracksuit you only wore on the bus”

“Yeah 45 minutes you could have revised cause you sure as hell were not making yourself look good.”

“Yeah i’m naturally this fit,”

It's at this point Julie steps in “Girls enough!”

“No at least let them trade blows next time,'' Bobby complains, earning him a middle figure from both netball girls.

At this moment Kayla, late from her film studies lesson enters. In place of a hello she greets the group with “Fuck me french film is pretentious,” she gives Carrie a hug and collects her lunch from Flynn.

“That bad?” Willie questions and Kayla heads over to Harrison's desk to eat, in place of an answer she groans earning a laugh from the group.

The group drifts off into the kind of comfortable silence you can only get around your friends. Willie and Alex chat amongst themselves, while Luke and Nick discuss his latest song, occasionally strumming a chord or two, Carrie is deeply engrossed in her instagram feed. With the rest working on homework over at Harrison’s desk Julie pulls her folder out of her bag and joins the study sesh. Every now and again someone will address the room and sometimes a lasting conversation will form, such as “Did you see Ms Mathew’s computer? Her background, it's her and Harrison on a beach.” It would seem Bobby isn't quite out of his conspiracy theory phase just yet, this was one of their favorites, are Mrs Harrison and Ms Mathew dating? As Julie has already tried to explain, they've been married for years now but that seems like too easy of an answer for walking conspiracy podcast Bobby Wilson. It's not long until silence falls over the room again.

Luke suddenly jumps up guitar in hand. As if taunting him the rest pay him no attention. “Guys!” he screams.

“What ?” Julie rolls her eyes.

“I got it, the melody, listen” he begins to play, Julie recognises some of the chords and lyrics from earlier in lunch, she’ll admit it's a good song, incomplete but good. Before he’s able to finish Mr Davids walks into the room, looking as sour faced as ever.

“Um folks, what are we doing here?” He calls in that voice all teachers can do “It's lunchtime … What are we doing in this classroom? You know you’re not allowed in here without a teacher.”

Reggie clearly with more confidence than the rest goes to answer before getting cut off by Davids.

“No Mr Peters, don't answer me back.”

Not shaken Luke cuts in “Mrs Harrison let us stay here,”

“Mrs Harrison said you could be in here, well is this Mrs Harrison’s room? er i didn’t think so,” Davids is so quick to tell them off he doesn't listen to Carrie’s protest that it is Harrison’s room “All of you out!” Figuring it's easier to leave than argue they start collecting their things, “Go outside, eat, be sociable.”

“We were just practising” Luke grumbles catching Davids attention

“You’re practising? Really, Mr Patterson for what? Last I checked only yourself Miss Wilson and Miss Molina were music students”

“A gig” Luke mumbles Davids is clearly not a fan of this answer,

“For a gig, umm is that a school event... it isn’t?” again Davids doesn't even wait for a reply “Right. Well then I suggest you practice outside of school. You’re here to learn not trash a classroom… out!”

In perhaps what might be the only time they've ever been grateful for the far too short lunch break at this school, they don't find themselves classroom-less for long; almost as soon as Davids shuts the door on the music room, locking them out, the bell rings and they're sent off the afternoon form. Both couples share a kiss before separating for class. Luke and Alex leave first in what can only be described as a sprint, after all their form is unfairly far away from everyone else’s. And Carrie drags a begrudging Reggie away to their shared form. The rest offer a series of “see you in class” and “meet me at the shop after school”s before Julie leaves with Willie and Kayla following as they cut through the drama studio and into the art department.

Once the register is called Julie is free to work on her homework, although songwriting isn't strictly homework. She finds herself drawn to the lyrics Luke had been working on earlier; perhaps she could finish it for him and they could play it at the Hollywood Ghost Pub’s open mic night. Already imagining how it'll go: the surprise and excitement on Luke's face as she presents it to him, the perfect song to play with the boys, the amazing performance as they give it their all, she smiles losing herself in the daydream.

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uwuwriting · 4 years

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I don’t know you yet

Iwaizumi soulmate au and birthday event

This is part of both my soulmate au and a gift to the character himself since its his birthday today. This is for @brattyquirks husband. Iwa-chan happy birthday. Love yaa.💖💖💖

rules

warnings:angst with happy ending

How can you miss someone you’ve never met? He constantly wondered that. To say it was hard to live in a world full of soulmates was an understatement. What was worse was being friends with someone who everyone wanted to be with. Iwaizumi Hajime was never one to care for relationships. From the moment a single strand of hair changed color he was determined to wait for that h/c person. He knew that they would love him for him. For the person he truly was. Rough edges and all.

Cause I need you but I don’t know you yet. Rough edges were normally the reason why he didn’t get lucky with anyone. All of them went for someone more approachable. More free. Hajime knew he didn’t seem like the most friendly individual. But that was always only on the outside. He cared about those around him. Sometimes way too much. Many people have come and gone in his life. Most have entered his life only to have leverage for his best friend. A betrayal that he had come to expect. That’s why now he lays in his bed, praying to anyone who’s listening to bring you to him. Because he’s tired of watching others step over him to reach Oikawa.

Can you find me soon because I’m in my head? Was he not enough? Was he so bad at this that no one wanted to be with him. He’s now in his second year of high school and has just experienced the third rejection of his high school life. He really liked her too. She was pretty, smart and made him laugh. When he talked she would pay close attention and she laughed at his jokes. He might have misread the signs.

“Iwaizumi-san you are amazing I’ll give you that but I’m interested in someone else.” He had hoped she would stop there, leave the lucky person as a mystery. He didn’t want to know after all. Actually he didn’t want to get his fears confirmed. “And i was hoping you could help me with that, he’s your best friend after all.”

Yeah, i need you now but I don’t know you yet. Volleyball had become more than just a club at this point. He knew it was a special part of him since middle school but he never expected to love it this much. The team was cooperating well, even though they had Oikawa as their captain. They hadn’t managed to make it to the nationals last year but they were determined that this time, this time will be different. Being in his third year he didn’t have much free time to think about relationships whether they be romantic or new friendships. That’s what he kept telling himself. He wouldn’t let his mind get in the way of enjoying his last year in high school just because he didn’t have someone to kiss. Matsukawa brought his girlfriend to practice today. He looked happy with her, content with just holding her. They had been together for two months now and they were still in the honeymoon phase. That’s why they looked so happy. At least that’s what Oikawa claims. He had just broken up with his girlfriend. It was still the beginning of the school year, this year would be different. His hand reached out to the special strand of hair behind his ear.

How can you miss someone you’ve never seen? They have a new manager. She’s a third year as well but he hasn’t met her yet. He has been sick the last couple of days and he couldn’t make it to practice. Oikawa told him that she’s cute. Hanamaki provided more information. Apparently he shares a class with her. Hanamaki said that she moved back here only a month ago and that’s why she missed the first two weeks of school. Her name is Y/N L/N, Matsu stated that she’s really friendly. She’s already well acquainted with Oikawa and the first years. She said they were the easiest to approach.

Tell me are your eyes brown, blue or green? She was lovely. He was sure that his heart was saying the truth and he wasn’t driven by his hormones. She tugged at his heart strings no matter the time of day. They were linked somehow and he knew. Attraction was surely there, from his side at least, but he knew he shouldn’t -couldn’t- let himself fall again. A heart can take so much after all. Being able to give only half a heart to someone who deserved the universe should be considered a crime and he didn’t want to be proven guilty.

Do you like it with sugar and cream? “Iwaizumi-san!” There she was. Classes had come to a conclusion for the day and the students were free to enjoy there club activities. “Wait up, we can walk together!” He smiled at her, one of those rare genuine smiles of his. Falling in love was a hard thing to distinguish. You often confused it with pure attraction. Hajime knew when he was falling in love though and he cursed himself for not backing away from her before it had happened. For some time Hajime had hopped her to be his soulmate. Her hair matched the strand behind his ear but try as he might he hadn’t seen his own chestnut hair mixed with hers. It was disheartening. He was used to it though. Listening to her rambling about their math professor was good enough for him. Getting his heart broken again wasn’t worth it.

Yeah lately it’s been hard. the Inter-high tournament had started and they had done an amazing start. They would be soon facing Shiratorizawa, the school who has beat them at every game. And now? This is the time they decided to dye their hair? It must have been highlights because it was just the tip of the strand that had changed. A pale blue, almost the same color as his jersey. This was really bad timing. When and if he found them he swore that he would scold them for this. Even though they couldn’t have known. He found it funny to be exact. Entering the gym with his teammates, they were met with full bleachers. People from both schools were shouting their respective chants while others held up signs to bring motivation to the teams. He hadn’t seen her yet, Oikawa said she texted him saying she was running a little late. Of course she would text him. They were finishing their warm up when he spotted her. Actually Matsukawa spotted her first. “Wow she went all out on the support.” All of them looked were Matsu was staring and they saw her. She had a bounce in her step, her jacket open to reveal the volleyball team’s t-shirt and her hair, oh god her hair. The turquoise highlights matched the team’s colors and brought out the ‘Aoba Johsai’ on her back. “Hey guys sorry I’m late!” Iwa reached for the strand behind his ear as he looked at her tips. To his dismay Oikawa was watching him closely and let out an audible gasp as he averted his gaze from her highlights to the strand between his best friend’s fingers. “You are.. She is.. IWA-CHAN WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?” He snapped at that elbowing Oikawa in the stomach. “I DIDN’T KNOW SHITTYKAWA!” He hadn’t looked at her. No, he didn’t want to look at her. To see the disappointment in her as when she finally realized that the one for her was him. To see as she realized that she wouldn’t be getting someone like Oikawa or even Oikawa himself. A hand came to rest on his shoulder turning him around as another one came and grasped the strand behind his ear. “Iwaizumi-san…” There it was, the hesitation. You’re a great guy but. It’s not that I don’t like you but. I’m sorry Iwaizumi but. He was waiting for the words to be outered, for his heart to break once again this time from his own soulmate. They never came though. She flung herself at him, arms wrapping around his neck as she buried her face in his shoulder. “How I hoped it was you.”

But I only got half a heart to give to you

And I hope it's enough.

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

TAG TEAM AY: @brattyquirks @the-arcana-fan-fic @angelwritings

#iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi headcanons #iwaizumi scenarios #iwa-chan #happy birthday iwaizumi #haikyu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu

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welcome-to-the-gay-bar · 3 years

Text

So I we started to watch Attack on Titan again after many years and I’ve just finished season two and before starting season three I wanted to take a trip down memory lane and look at all my old favourite AOT fan fictions from 2014 (and see what’s popular nowadays that I may have missed, since wow, a lot has changed since I was last present in this fandom and compared to what’s happening in the current episodes season one was tame).

I’ve noticed a huge divide between fanon and canon and I kinda wanted to ruminate on this a bit.

Eren’s character in the show isn’t my favourite. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still fond of this brash idiot, but he’ll never be my favourite. He falls into this shonen protagonist trope of being hot headed and ill tempered. He doesn’t take advice, he’s not going to listen to plans or authority, he always thinks he’s right and only follows his moral compass, and to tie it all up he’s not even that strong. He can’t back up the threats that he’s laying down and yet he always rushes into situations with fists flying and never thanks or appreciates the characters (Mikasa) that get him out of those tricky situations. The only way to get through to him is to physically beat him down and even then it may not work if he hadn’t already somewhat respected you (Mikasa again). This character type is seen so often in shonen and I’m really not a fan, I like the cool and calculating protagonist better. Someone who has the power behind their threats and doesn’t rush into situations. Again, I like Eren, but I think it’s the other characters in the show that balance him out and the plot itself that makes me like Attack on Titan.

Compare this to fanon where his default character is happy ray of sunshine who’s a little bit naive. It’s a rather jarring comparison but I also don’t necessarily dislike it either. To me canon and fanon characteristics are almost completely seperate. If I had to always think a d compare fan fiction to canon I probably couldn’t read it. I read about happy fanon Eren and see canon angry Eren and to me they are two completely different characters - two completely different people even. If I had to read fan fiction about canon Eren I can 1000000% say that I just wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I’d be totally bored. As I said before, I like Eren but it’s the people around him and the plot itself that makes him bearable. I can watch a show about him because it takes less time and emotional energy, but I couldn’t invest in reading a book about him (which is why I haven’t read the manga either).

This isn’t even exclusively towards Attack on Titan. Back in my Teen Wolf phase I noticed how different canon and fanon characters were. Small secret - I was knee deep in the Teen Wolf fandom before I realised that I hadn’t actually watched an episode of Teen Wolf. One of my mutual’s reblogged TW artwork that was linked to a story and from that I never looked back. When I actually did get around to watching TW I can honestly say I was more than a wee bit disillusioned. Derek and Stiles are obviously not the main characters and I was prepared for that, but then they barely interacted, and when they did interact it was nothing like what I had read about - nothing like what their fanon characters or interactions were like. I can honestly say that I never made it past the first season - the show just wasn’t for me - but I was still thoroughly invested in the fandom for another year or two.

Something about fanon Sterek dynamics just did it for me, their characters and relationship was just so on point for what I wanted, and this is kind of when I came to accept that canon and fanon can be so different that it almost feels as if it’s two pieces of completely different media. I mean, fanon has its own set of rules, it’s own character tropes and story arcs that even completely different authors with completely different stories somewhat instinctively know to follow. I think that’s amazing, but it’s also a double edged sword. See these first two examples were of shows that I A) never watched/finished before reading fan fiction, B) don’t necessarily love love the characters in canon. That means that fanon is more appealing because it takes something I don’t care too strongly for and changes it to something more appealing. But what about when fanon takes something I love and cherish and remoulds it?

I want to briefly take this time to talk about something I’ve dubbed “the twink affect”. When you take a character that’s originally strong willed, self sufficient, and somewhat masculine and you pair the, up with someone EVEN MORE strong willed, self sufficient, and masculine - the “Alpha male” of characters if you will. I find that fanon is incapable of seeing two strong men together in a relationship and will eventually slowly twinkify one of them. Make them smaller, softer, lonelier, less self sufficient and more reliant on others, they need to be taken care of, they’re now a ball of sunshine that’s radiant and joyful, they’re cotton candy that melts on your tongue. You put them next to the pairing you ship them with and instead of seeing two strong men you see a bear and a twink. That’s definitely what’s happened to the two characters/pairings mentioned before and I honestly didn’t mind because I wasn’t protective of the source material, but when it does happen to a character I love it’s the most frustrating thing in the world, and I can’t even complain because I’ve already reaped the benefits from other fandoms. (I am going to complain though, this is my blog and I can do what I want mum.)

I’m going to talk about Mo Dao Zu Shi. Beautiful story that I love in (almost) all its various adaptations, but I’ve noticed the ever slow changing of fanon’s Wei Wuxian. For anyone reading this that hasn’t read MDZS (or if anyone’s reading this at all, I am expecting to just be shouting into the void at this point) Wei Wuxian dies - not a spoiler, it happens at the very beginning of the story - and comes back to life in the body of Mo Xuanyu. Mo Xuanyu is small malnourished and twinky - he even canonically wears makeup (or at least has it in his possession, I’m getting the various adaptations confused and I can’t remember if in canon Wei Wuxian woke up in Mo Xuanyu’s body already wearing the makeup or if he just finds the tin of makeup in Mo Xuanyu’s possessions). Wei Wuxian’s character is also a bit of a tease, and now he’s alive and unburdened by the past he’s much freer now than he was in the past, couple that with the fact that he’s pretending to be Mo Xuanyu (a character who is rumoured to be gay and also a bit insane) he goes all out in pretending to be a shameless flirt, and it’s honestly hilarious, I love his character. So in a sense he has all the makings of a canon twink and I’m really not here to shame on those who portray him that way while he’s in Mo Xuanyu’s body.

My personal issue is with the same extreme twink portrayal while he’s in his original body. In his original body Wei Wuxian is BUFF. He’s hunky, he’s in the top five most eligible bachelors, he’s *car honks* woof woof bark bark *whistles* puurrrr, he’s one of the most powerful cultivators of his generation, he’s a genius too. He’s hunky. He still has the cheeky shameless character, but when you compare him to the male lead Lan Wangji, they’re about the same size and strength. My favourite type of fan fiction in MDZS is fix it/everybody lives nobody dies/no war/etc etc. Basically stories where Wei Wuxian keeps his original body. The fanon twink portrayal of him being so small and soft and weak while in canon he’s one of the strongest and smartest urks me in ways I can’t explain. It’s not what I want, not what I’m looking for. I love him for who he is in canon and to see his character so distorted by fans of the original work is frustrating. I just want to read about Wei Wuxian as a jock with his equally buff and tall nerd boyfriend.

I want to pause here and say that I have nothing against authors that write him in a twinky way, I respect your work and your characters (and as I said before I’ve reaped the benefits of other fandoms twinky character portrayals numerous times), if I read a fic that I’m not happy with the characterisation I just close the tab and move on so absolutely no hate to anyone who enjoys this character type. I’m just ruminating on the fact that I’ve been seeing it happen more and more often lately to the point where I’ve kind of bounced the fandom and am sticking to other works like Scum Villain that haven’t yet twinkified too much (there will always be one or two stories in every fandom that twinkify and honestly? I respect that. Authors said twink rights ONLY, good for them).

Mo Dao Zu Shi isn’t the only fandom I’ve been in that I’ve negatively reacted to fanon. Another one would be Batman (I love Tim with all my heart and I love him getting treated nicely but damn I sometimes wish people would remember how freaking strong and amazing he is too), 2Ha is another I’ve started to see “twinkified” (although I don’t mind seeing Chu Wanning being soft and taken care of, he is canonically called handsome and masculine and he’s quite tall too), I’ve even seen the canonically “top” character (and that seems so weird to write oml) be twinkified by fandom because they want to see him get bottomed for ~equal rights~ because apparently bottoming is seen as a “woman’s position” to them and they’re trying to be woke by switching the sexual positions up but failing to see how misogynistic and homophobic that take is (imma stop myself here because that a WHOLE ‘nother can or worms to be opened right there).

What I’m trying to say is fanon is a double edged sword and I’ve definitely enjoyed some and hated some. I think it’s important to seperate the two. I do think it’s annoying for fandoms to be flooded with mischaracterisation when you actually do like the original characters and I wish there was some way to seperate fandom into “actual canon fans” and “fans of fanon”, but I don’t have a solution and I’ve definitely contributed to the problem in the past so for that I’m sorry.

I don’t know how to end this long ass rant, I don’t know what the goal was in writing this, but taadaa ~ here’s my exceptionally long take on fanon.

#rant #I don’t know if I should tag the fandoms mentioned in case I wake a sleeping bear #but I’m going to do it anyway in case someone has the tags muted #mdzs #aot fanfiction #AOT #mo dao zu shi #fanon #ao3 #attack on titan #ereri #wei wuxian

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katierosefun · 3 years

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andddd july flew by, and i’m here to give everyone an unasked for report of...things...i watched / read / listened to this month because why not

kdramas:

miss hammurabi

aaaah oh my god the way i told myself that i won’t be watching any more legal kdramas because your honor stressed me out so much--but god. i wound up watching this and fell in love with it so fast? miss hammurabi is about a rookie judge (the gal on the right) disrupting the judicial system with her strong sense of justice. i really wasn’t too sure if i’d like her, but oh god. i fell in love with her so fast, with her desire to make the world a better place and her ability to smile even though she’s had a horrific life of her own.

honestly, i really just loved this show, mostly for how it covers so many issues in the courthouse, from working overtime to the emotional fatigue to the frustrations with those brought to court to the actual cases themselves, which are all civil court things (so we get some stuff about sexual harassment, child custody, medical malpractice, etc). this show really demonstrated that each of these cases were important--and also...really hard-hitting. i think i cried at least once per episode just because...yeah. i’m reminded that no one goes to the courthouse because they’re happy or because they’re having a good time, and it really is the job of judges and lawyers to keep a cool head and execute justice the best they can.

so basically: i loved this show. i loved it a lot more than i thought i would, and that’s always a good thing. there’s also not a whole ton of romance here either, if you’re looking for a show that’s not really too deep into that. it’s def. more focused on depicting the legal field, as well as all of the complications that come with that. as a result, there’s a lot of heartbreaking moments in the show, but there’s also many, many, many uplifting ones that reminded me a lot of why i personally want to enter the legal field. so if you’re looking for a show that might restore your faith in humanity, then i def. recommend this kdrama!

beyond evil

so.....it’s no secret that i’ve been mildly obsessed with this show. i binge-watched it in the span of...i think four (4) days, so that’s averaging about four episodes (4 hours) a day. let me just say...i was kind of on the fence about watching this, but now i’m really glad that i did because whooo boy, i was in for a ride. basically, this show is about lee dong sik, who was accused of murdering his sister (amongst others) 20 years ago...and han ju won, the young detective / inspector who’s trying to track down the murderer (who he believes is lee dong sik).

lots of other things happen, but that’s the least spoiler-y summary i can give of this show because....whooooo boy, there’s just so many twists and turns in this show? as soon as you start thinking you have everything figured out, this show tosses in another thing that reminds you of just how clueless you actually are. that said though, none of the twists felt out of place--they all felt very planned and very smart, so kudos to the writers for that!

overall, i hella enjoyed this show--the plot, the characters (who all want to do the right thing, but they’re all very jaded in their own ways which makes being a 100% good person basically impossible in this monster of a town), and, of course, the relationship between dong sik and ju won. there was just an absolutely fascinating push and pull between their relationship, lots of distrust and mocking each other in the beginning...only to slowly but steadily grow into trust and respect for each other (and in my head, def. something more....but lol i’ll let you guys decide on that for yourself ;))

i.....genuinely loved this show. i found this show just incredibly smartly written, and all the characters were incredibly intriguing? and the relationships were all fascinating to me? just. god. this show ripped me apart so many times, and i loved it all the more for it. like. guys. i wrote or started writing about six fics for this show in the span of 48 hours because i love it that much.

movies:

the handmaiden

ohohoho this movie has been on my to watch list for the LONGEST TIME, and i was glad that i gave myself some time to watch this movie at the start of the month, because...whoooo boy, it was so good. this movie is inspired by the book the fingersmith by sarah waters, only whereas i think the book took place in victorian england, this movie takes place in japan-occupied-korea. sook hee, a pickpocket, is hired by a conman to persuade the secluded lady hideko to marry him. the conman plans to later inherit hideko’s wealth and send hideko off to the madhouse.

many things happen over the course of this movie, and i’m not going to spoil anything, but oh boy...oh boy. i mean, this movie is pretty well-known for the main relationship between the two protagonists, sook hee and hideko. the romance was such a ride, and i thoroughly enjoyed every aspect of it. this movie really said “be gay, do crime” in the best way possible.

as a quick warning though, this movie definitely is erotic. i kinda knew that heading into the movie, and i was still a little caught off-guard. so maybe if you’re a little squicked out by sex/erotica in general, i’d maybe skip over this movie. that said, this movie was beautifully filmed, with beautiful writing, and the cast was just perfect. i don’t think i’ve seen a movie so beautifully or smartly crafted like this before, and i’m very glad i watched this film.

the meg

let me caveat by saying....i watched this because my brother wanted to watch it, so i sat through this movie and...y’know? it wasn’t awful. kinda predictable as far as shark movies go, but it wasn’t bad! i found myself enjoying it a little more than i thought i would...? but basically, this movie is about, you guessed it, an underwater research facility that was just looking into a deeper part of the ocean and etc. surprise, they found! a megalodon. multiple megalodons! cue the chaos.

so...there were definitely some more suspenseful moments. i shouted “these people just KEEP FALLING OFF THE BOAT” a few times. there was one character who i was like “oh man he’s gonna be the villain isn’t he :( darn :(” to “oh hey he has a heart” to “oh never mind” to “ooph”. there were some more slightly emotional moments, but?? not particularly thought-provoking or impactful. so like? overall? it was one of those movies where like....it’s not bad, it’s not really good, but! hey, not all movies need to be incredibly deep to be even somewhat enjoyable! (and like, i mostly just enjoyed watching this movie because my brother and i cracked commentary all throughout it, much to my father’s chagrin.)

music:

so, apparently my music taste changes when i’m thinking about something that’s not star wars related, and i saw a bit of that when i was making this playlist for lee dong sik and han joo won from beyond evil. as spotify works, it wound up with me adding a few of my songs that i thought fit them, and then i wound up going into the radio part of my playlist and listening to a lot of new songs, and i just have to list some of my new faves here:

let me follow by son lux: you know when you hear a song that just feels so...strangely cinematic? like, you get all kinds of vivid images in your head and stuff? this was def. one of those songs. it’s quiet, and there’s something weirdly...ephemeral about it? that’s the only way i can describe it. and mildly haunting. and mildly tragic. idk why, but i think big fans of tragedy & the patroclus/achilles kind of feel might like this song. it’s just. god. i spent 2 hours sitting in my bed just listening to this song on loop.

not in the same way by 5 seconds of summer: this is a public scolding @ 15 year old me who thought it was lame to like 5sos just because they were getting popular. boo, 15 year old caroline and her “i’m a weirdo, i’m not like other girls or other people my age” phase! because 5sos actually slaps, and this was one of my fave songs? idk. another weirdly cinematic song. the refrain is just chef’s kiss, in the kind of rambly way that leads to a shout. i love that kind of stuff.

start of time by gabrielle aplin. bro...the way gabrielle aplin’s voice brought me straight back to 2014-2016 era caroline...but weirdly, i haven’t heard this song from her before? and bro. bro....i’ve never wanted to run to the top of a hill and watch the sunrise with a loved one so bad in my whole life. god. idk. if you need a song that makes you feel like. things just might get better. this one’s for you.

sedated by hozier: okay, so i’ve only ever listened to a handful of hozier songs in my whole life (i know, i know, how can i bicon like myself not listen to hozier 24/7? le sigh), but bro.....bro. i get it now. i get why people screech about hozier. i already liked his music before, but...ah. idk. something very powerful about this song. i now understand why people want to lie down in the middle of the woods when they listen to his music.

#caroline recs #i didn't watch or read a whole ton of things because....super deep into lsat prep now #but yee here we are

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vickyvicarious · 4 years

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Oh my god. What if at one time, even very briefly, both Parker and Hardison were in the same foster home?

Pre-Nana Hardison is weird to write and I don’t know enough about their age difference/childhoods so this is rather vague on details (like for example names haha), but a certain scene popped into my head as soon as I read this ask so have a tiny fic exploring that.

(AO3)

As soon as he walked in the door, Alec could tell this wasn’t a good place.

It didn’t seem like it was bad, at least - not the type of bad he’d heard about from other kids, the type he knew he’d been lucky to avoid so far. But there were a lot of little signs that this wasn’t one of the good places, either. It wasn’t so much the small house, or the five other kids he saw when they took him inside. The furniture looked old and beat-up, and the TV was a dinky old monstrosity, and there really wasn’t much else to see. But none of that was what clued him in; way more important was the way Mr. Reeves smiled at him.

Alec could tell fake from real easily enough.

As soon as his social worker left, he was told to leave his stuff in the back bedroom and stay quiet, and then Mr. Reeves walked off. A moment later, a door slammed down the hall. It wasn’t anything scary, but the cold disinterest was its own sort of stinging. He didn’t much mind though, or he told himself he didn’t anyway, because it wasn’t like he was staying here long. He was supposed to be staying with a Mrs. Hardison but apparently she’d gotten sick and wouldn’t be able to take him in for another week. He didn’t know what he was going to be in for with her either, but for the moment not having to stay here any longer than a week was plenty good enough.

Once Mr. Reeves was gone, the other kids livened up a bit. Alec didn’t go put his stuff away, instead flopping down on the floor near the crowded couch and making friends. He might only be here for a week, but that was no reason he had to be lonely.

Elijah was the one to tell him about the ghost.

Everyone was normal amounts of friendly, for foster kids. Meaning a pretty even mix of cheerful and reclusive, one very tall boy wearing a lot of black, a couple little kids too young to make good conversation, one older girl who sat crosslegged in the corner of the room and didn’t say a single word the entire afternoon. Elijah was cool though, and so were Alex and Sanjay, so Alec mostly hung out with them. They watched cartoons and after a while Alex pulled a pack of cards out of her jacket pocket and led them to the bedroom so they could play Go Fish in peace. It was actually a pretty big room, but most of the space was taken up with bunkbeds so it still felt crowded. Sanjay showed Alec where he’d be (the bottom bunk near the door, because of course all the better beds were taken) and if he were staying any longer than a week, he might’ve tried to trade with one of them. He could have made it a bet. In his experience, all kids liked betting on games, and also in his experience, Alec could win any bet that relied on cards since he could keep track of who had what in his head pretty easily.

He was glad he didn’t try, anyway, because Elijah was the one whose bed he would have gone after, since it was a top by the window, and Elijah was the one who liked him enough after beating him three times to tell him about the ghost in the house.

Weird things had started happening a while ago, he explained. At first no one thought anything of it, because there were a lot of people coming in and out who could have been moving stuff around, but then Mr. Reeves came storming in one day yelling about someone taking his watch. The one he wore all the time and never took off, not even when he showered probably. He made everyone go through all their stuff, and pretty much everyone found things missing - but they were all in with someone else’s belongings. It would have turned into a huge argument except by the time everyone found they had someone else’s stuff they were all too confused to be angry for long. Also, Mr. Reeves’ watch didn’t turn up, and he’d yelled for hours about it, which kind of distracted everyone.

Except that right after he finally gave up and left the room, he came rushing back asking who put it back on his dresser. It was obviously impossible, because everyone had been in the room the whole time getting yelled at. A rumor started about the ghost that night, after everyone had been sent to bed without dinner because no one had fessed up. And at first, Elijah said, he hadn’t believed in it either (he must’ve caught Alec’s snort), but then stuff like that just kept happening. People lost stuff, even if they carried them around everywhere, only for them to turn up in weird places days later, like on top of the ceiling fan or inside the cereal box instead of all the cereal, or stuffed inside someone else’s shoes. Some of the stuff that went missing never came back. But most of that stuff belonged to Mr. Reeves, so the kids didn’t usually mind too much.

“Don’t worry about hanging onto whatever you want to keep,” Elijah said, finally. “It doesn’t matter, the ghost will take it right out of your hand if it wants to. My advice is just to ask it to give it back. It listens, sometimes, if you’re nice about it.”

Alec tried really really hard not to roll his eyes, because even if he was only going to be here a week that was no reason to be lonely. Elijah didn’t seem to notice.

Alec was pretty good at sleeping, as long as he remembered to try. He didn’t have any trouble falling asleep in a brightly-lit room, or with lots of noise, or even a bedtime that changed every other day. As long as someone made sure he wasn’t in front of a computer or a book or painting or trying to build a crossbow out of sticks or whatever else caught his attention that day, he could fall asleep in two minutes flat once he decided to.

So he didn’t actually need a better bed, and he wasn’t bothered by the couple of times other kids had to slip past him in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. Someone crying into their pillow across the room didn’t phase him, not any more than hearing someone cry always did. He knew better than to go help, especially because he was pretty sure it was the tall boy wearing all black, and older kids usually hated younger kids showing them up at anything.

The first night he stayed with Mr. Reeves passed uneventfully. So did the second, third, fourth, and fifth.

Since it was summer, there wasn’t really much to do other than sit around the house. Mr. Reeves made the older kids help out with chores, but he didn’t really bother the younger ones and Alec was small for his age so he got off easy with just babysitting the really little kids. There was a yard, but it was mostly just dirt with a few weeds, and they weren’t supposed to wander off into the neighborhood. Alec saw all the older kids leave anyway at least three times apiece, but it wasn’t really any of his business so he didn’t worry about it. Besides, one thing Mr. Reeves did have was an old bookshelf with some battered paperbacks, three of which were actually Star Trek books Alec had never read before. He tried to make them last, because without school to go to or a library nearby he didn’t have access to any computers and the TV really did suck. It didn’t work too well though, he still finished all of them two days into his stay, and then he didn’t have anything else to do but just hang out with the others. It had been a good idea, making friends.

Alex taught him some new card games he’d never played, up until Wednesday when her pack of cards went missing. She’d just shuffled it up and put the rubber band back around it, tucking it into her pocket, when Alec spotted a Jack that had fallen to the floor. She went to get the pack back out of her pocket, but it wasn’t there anymore. Alec had been right there the whole time and he hadn’t seen or heard anything.

It was stupid, ghosts weren’t real.

(He checked through all his stuff that afternoon, just in case. Nothing was missing. Of course it wasn’t, ghosts weren’t real.)

Mr. Reeves was never around, except in the mornings when he gave everyone their chore lists. He didn’t even spend much time in the house at all, but when he did he was mostly back in his room or watching the news on his really just unfortunate TV. Whenever that happened, the other kids cleared out and left him alone, without really making a point of it or anything. They just found other stuff to do - even if it was in the same room, like on Thursday when it was raining really hard. No one tried to sit on the couch with him and they all got really quiet. Alec noticed that everyone seemed to follow his rules really well whenever he was around, even though when he wasn’t there they pretty much did whatever they wanted. He didn’t seem to notice or care as long as stuff like the laundry and dishes got done, and nobody got hurt. Alec hadn’t had a single conversation with him all week.

Not one of the bad ones.

But not good.

On Alec’s penultimate day in the house, something of his finally went missing. It was a notebook he’d carried around since the start of last school year, when his then foster-part Keller gave it to him for taking notes in class. Alec didn’t really ever bother doing that because he usually could figure out whatever the lesson was and remember it later without writing anything down, but he did like to draw in it. He’d started trying to write code in there too, but honestly he didn’t like trying to write down what he was thinking because his hand could never keep up with his brain. He was much faster at typing, even if he only really got to on school computers. Mostly, Alec just liked to draw stuff.

It wasn’t like the notebook really mattered. Alec didn’t have a lot of stuff, but most of what he did have didn’t matter too much. He’d like it to matter, he’d like that a lot, but the simple fact was he didn’t have anything he really cared about, not that couldn’t be replaced if he really needed. A new book would still have the same words, he didn’t even really like any of the clothes he had except his glow-in-the-dark Darth Vader shirt and even that was starting not to glow anymore. The notebook probably came closest to something really special.

Alec thought about getting mad. He really did, he really almost came very close to blowing his top. But he’d been in not-so-good houses before. He’d spent hours walking around the neighborhood, smiling at people who half the time slammed the door in his face, trying to sell them on a religion he didn’t even feel very strongly about. He’d tried getting mad before and it just never really worked. And he didn’t have time here to try something that didn’t work, even if he really really really wanted to.

Instead, Alec asked the other kids about his notebook. None of them had seen it anywhere, or at least none of them admitted to seeing it. Some of them didn’t even bother to answer, or he didn’t bother to ask them. The toddlers weren’t exactly going to be much help.

Next, Alec searched the house for his notebook. He looked under everything, behind everything, he even went to Mr. Reeves’ room and asked him very politely if he’d seen it, hovering on the threshold and looking around everywhere. He didn’t see anything and Mr. Reeves just told him no and to leave him alone. He sounded so final and Alec was only here one more day, and so far nothing had happened to explain why all the other kids stayed very quiet whenever Mr. Reeves was in the room. He didn’t need to find out if there was a reason.

He didn’t need the notebook, anyway, and he could leave without it if he had to but he didn’t want to. He wanted it back. He wanted it almost enough to believe in ghosts, if that was something that would work, and after dinner he went to the bathroom and spoke to the ghost while he was washing his hands so no one else would hear.

“That’s mine and I want it back please,” Alec told the ghost, feeling very silly. “You’re a jerk if you don’t give it back before I leave.”

He didn’t go to sleep that night, because ghosts weren’t real and even if they were it wasn’t like he was gonna put his trust in a thief to fix things. Alec still got into bed, still lay down and breathed quietly and even closed his eyes when Mr. Reeves stuck his head in to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be, but he didn’t sleep.

Instead, he waited for everyone else to fall asleep, so he could use the flashlight he’d taken from the garage to look through all their things until he got his notebook back. Only Elijah and Sanjay had been willing to let him root through their stuff during the day. Mostly everyone ignored him, blaming it all on the ghost.

Alec waited until he couldn’t hear anyone else making any noise, then a few more minutes to be sure they were all asleep, then counted to three hundred just in case, before finally sitting up. He turned to face the rest of the beds, pulling the flashlight out from under his pillow but not turning it on yet.

And then he saw the ghost, floating above Elijah’s bed. Alec froze up, only a quick gasp making its way through his lips. He felt terrified for just a moment, scared for his life because he wasn’t going to bet on the ghost staying friendly when someone caught it. And also it looked like it might be trying to eat Elijah’s soul, or something.

But then the ghost lifted its head, just enough for the moonlight coming in through the window to shine on its face, to make the long silvery strands of spiderweb hair catch enough light that they looked blonde again. The shadows around its skull no longer looked faceless.

In fact, it was grinning at him. It held a single pale finger up over its lips.

Alec blinked rapidly, watching as the ghost moved over Elijah’s bed like a spider, only touching the frame. It crouched on its tiptoes, fiddling with the window - the locked window that no one could get open, so it got insanely hot in here during the day and no one spent much time here if they could help it - and a moment later swung it open silently.

The ghost-girl, she was a girl with pale skin and long hair silvery in the moonlight, slipped through the window feet first, reaching out and up and either catching on something or just floating in midair, before she let go of the windowsill and swung backwards into the night. In the last moment before she let go and fell head-first down to the ground, she smiled at him again and twiddled her fingers in a silent wave.

Alec’s heart thumped hard when she vanished out of sight. He listened but he didn’t hear anything hit the ground. His fingers were trembling, he felt like something might grab his ankles from under the bed.

When he flicked on the flashlight, carefully covering all but a slit of the beam with his fingers, it turned out there was no need to search: his notebook was sitting on the floor right in front of him, looking perfectly innocent. He snatched it up, then hid under his covers with the light to check that none of the pages were missing, that everything was the way he’d left it.

It all was - except on the last page, where there were several sketches of cars. A couple from the outside, the rest from what looked like what you’d see from inside the driver’s seat. They were really good, probably better than Alec’s art. They were also weird, little lines marked at the driver’s side window, several spots on the inside of the dashboard, one drawing just a tangle of wires. It didn’t make any sense at all, but it was back and that was good enough.

He’d be leaving tomorrow morning, he didn’t need to know any more (even if he really really wanted to, now).

In the morning, Alec snuck the flashlight back into the garage before Mr. Reeves got up. He shrugged when Elijah caught him carrying his notebook around and laughingly asked him if he’d asked the ghost to give it back. He wanted to tell his friend about actually seeing the ghost, but something stopped him. He wasn’t sure what, exactly. It wasn’t like he had any reason to be scared of her, since he was leaving and he was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t leave where they were haunting. But still. Something about the memory of her shadowed grin, her finger telling him to hush… it wasn’t scary really, but he didn’t want to ignore her.

Mr. Reeves clapped a hand on his shoulder when his social worker came to pick Alec up. He laughed with her, told her Alec’d been no trouble at all and they’d had a great time together. He shook her hand and helped Alec carry his stuff out to the car. He told him “take care, son,” and smiled down at him and shut the car door for him once he was inside the backseat.

Behind him, a couple of the other kids stood in the yard or the doorway. Alex and Sanjay were waving; Elijah had his arms crossed and a frown on his face. Benny and Miles, the little kids, waved for a second before getting distracted by something on the ground.

And standing in the doorway was an older girl with long blond hair and pale skin, her mouth set in a neutral line. The girl who barely spoke to anyone, who spent most of her time this past week working on cleaning out the gutters together with the oldest boy John, and then just vanishing all afternoon. Her eyebrows furrowed a little as she watched the car start to take him away, and Alec suddenly felt a crazy impulse to wave at her over any of his friends.

He twiddled his fingers at her, grinning.

The car was pulling away, starting to speed up down the street, but Alec still saw her. Saw the ghost-girl blink, then smile, just a quick flash before he passed her completely.

#leverage #leverage fic #my fic #parker #alec hardison #replies #anonymous #my first thought was actually the parker getting buried scene and little hardison's reaction #but then this popped into my head and actually came out as words so here ya go #Anonymous

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breezy-cheezy · 4 years

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I finished Final Fantasy 7 Remake

Long story short, I loved it!! So much!! And there’s alot I wanna rant about so here we are. A review of sorts?? Major spoilers ahead!

And if y’all think you’re immune to spoilers because you played the original FF7, YOU ARE NOT. Lots of new stuff here....just warning y’all.

Although! I did find this great looking walkthrough playlist if anyone’s interested and can’t play the thing themselves? Idk how complete it is with the details, but from a glance it looks nice!

- FIRST OF ALL the music in it all is amazing!!! From the menu song all throughout, I got Emotional. All the rehashings of Aerith’s theme?? Tifa’s theme?? The FF7 main theme here are there?? AMAZING!!!! I need to find a tracklist or something there are so many versions of the songs specific to the scenes they played in and I die??? Man it is Good.

- On the music front, I really enjoyed the Jukebox feature! So they could add in old classic songs that story-wise couldn’t appear yet...good nostalgia there.

- Lil disclaimer, I played the original FF7 fairly recently, on Steam. HOWEVER. I played Crisis Core years ago, and watched Advent Children, etc. And Final Fantasy music has been a staple homework playlist for me for ages now.... So yes I’m new to the whole FF7 original story. But not new in how most people are...it’s a weird situation lol. Like I knew the general FF7 story for awhile but just recently filled the details....

- The gameplay is awesome!! I wasn’t great at it, but...tbh it felt like mechanics combo of the original FF7, FF15, annnnd Kingdom Hearts :D Also appreciated it PAUSED when you picked out commands lol. Loved upgrading weapons. Loved working with materia. I wish there were like...ways to save a materia set so you could easily switch over when your characters were switched out though X’’’’D

- Biggs is Aro/Ace

- Cloud is VERY Aro/Ace

- Tifa might be Ace

- I decided long ago (in my Crisis Core phase) that Sephiroth is Aro/Ace. There’s nothing to “prove it” in this game but I’m holding to it. I have claimed these characters askjdhuiwdhguerhgr

- Side note, slightly related, but I love how the relationships shone in this remake?? Lots of casual, comfortable touch with Tifa and Cloud (in which Cloud seems in general pretty touch averse due likely to Trauma) in a “we’ve known each other our whole lives” way and gosh I love them. Aerith with Cloud is adorable. Barret!!! Was characterized SO WELL here, and I love him way more than I ever did!! Barret and Tifa interactions as well were so heartfelt and wonderful aaaaaa how good

- Like...Barret haaaates Cloud in the beginning. But somewhere along the way he adopts Cloud instead and ain’t that fantastic?? He just can’t contain how much he cares about others and especially his daughter and goSH I love him.

- Aerith!! I love her!! She gave such a vibe that she knows more than she says, but is still so cute and sweet and sassy I LOVE!!!! Also that scene in the train graveyard with baby Aerith ;;~;;

- Also

Cloud: You need any help??

Aerith, climbing a ladder: I’m fine. You don’t need to treat me like a princess or anything~~~

*ladder breaks*

Aerith, completely serious: s h * t.

I LAUGH

- Cloud was actually really cute with kids!!!!!

- I think I saw a post where they talked about how much more consistent characterizations were here?? I have to agree. I feel some stuff was lost in translation while playing FF7 original, and it felt alot more put together, character-wise, here. I feel like some of that was learned from FF15 and its success with character relationships?? It was Good.

_ I rambled about this before, but Wall Market was every bit as embarrassing as you would think. *covers face*

- Also I thought it was interesting how they handled who was in your party when! A little annoying sometimes though, switching materia around!!! DX I also really wanted to actually PLAY Red XIII/Nanaki....but sure make him an NPC, whatever. (I am grateful he healed me often.)

- *me when Nanaki shows up* AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! THERE HE IS!!!!!!! (sidenote, in the original, I didn’t wanna call him by his experiment name. He’s the only character I changed the name of. The name I picked? Ignis. :”D )

- The motorcycle segments were ANNOYING AS HECK, especially that last one in escaping the Shinra building DX The game forced your camera to focus on the boss and that made the controls VERY ANNOYING. Cool to watch tho.

- I actually almost completed the game boss fight chain early last night!! But RIGHT when I got to Sephiroth, the family demanded I get off the TV for their use D: all that progress....I had to redo ALOT. DX

- STILL the fights were VERY cool! Reminded me of KHII end alot actually, jumping around on broken floating buildings and whatnot?? Also the creature looked like a HUGE DARKSIDE heartless lol

- There’s actually alot in this remake that gives alot of a KH feel to me?? Nomura I see you....

- *screeching the One Winged Angel theme still not knowing the words*

- I LOVED how they showed scenes of the future in the end?? Probably ripped from Advent Children, but?? The characters actually seeing that?? Going “this CAN’T be our future!!” Yo. Also it’s implied it might not HAPPEN now going against destiny and all. I know alot of people are pissed but I am EXCITED. I’m all for a fix-it fic game thank YOU.

- Speaking of fix-it: ZACK. ZAAAAAACK!!!!!! It’s implied he’s alive in one reality so WHERE IS HE??????? I’m so curious about this new story. I’m gonna eat up theories. I want!! To see!! My baby boy!!!!!! to be Fair (haha) I spoiled myself knowing he was in the game but I didn’t know WHEN!!!

- This is terrible, but I love how much they expressed how NOT OK Cloud is. His mental state is awful, but boi won’t talk about it.

- Like I know it’s in the original, but it comes up ALOT more in the remake, and the flashbacks/brain short out moments are more obvious in HD for sure. Plus Cloud’s eyes seem more green there, which is a great touch!! Also the incredible FORESHADOWING it brought. Love it. Please someone help this idiot with his headaches....

- I did get annoyed with the whole scene in Hojo’s lab. Cloud’s walking like a zombie toward where Jenova is, saying CONCERNING things, and NO ONE reaches out until he outright collapses? We all just gonna stand back and watch?? Sure ok.

- Hojo is absolutely disgusting and horrifying and exactly how I imagined him, creators did great job.

- Also why does no one use curaga in these character death scenes???? Potion? Anything????Hello??????

- I was so relieved Wedge (and one of his 3 cats) got to live, and then devastated when they chucked him out a window last minute ;;A;; still. I didn’t see a body. Maybe he’s ok.....*sobs*

- I WAS NOT EXPECTING BIGGS TO BE SEEN IN RECOVERY THO YEEEEESSSSS (I love ANY sign that they DID manage to change the future a little...I thought he was dead!!) Fun fact! The one part I legitimately started crying was when Biggs “died”! Hhhhhhhhhh

- Those dang dementors huh? X’’’D Whispers of fate...there to make sure the story goes according to the original game basically. Does that make the whispers the purist fans of FF7? ...please don’t kill me for that comment sidfiushguigerha

- I just wanna say making a game ABOUT making a remake (that is different from the original) and the struggles in that is VERY meta and so clever and delightful and I LOVE IT. I really wanna see what happens next....

All in all I spent 52 hours on this game. WAY more than I expected for only covering Midgar. And I ENJOYED it!! Some parts felt like the story was being dragged/padded, but most of the time I didn’t care. Also there’s even more to do?? Apparently I missed some scenes....I don’t have time for now, but maybe someday. Or maybe I’ll just look them up ;;7;;

It’s a good game y’all!!

#breezy babbles #breezy plays ffVII #ff7 remake spoilers #ffVIIr #ff7remake #final fantasy #ff #SPOILERS #but also a helpful link for those that can't get the game!#seems like a good video series of the playthrough #excuse me while I use tumblr as a journal and rant my thoughts #again #and claim characters to my ace headcanons lol #this is a good game and I'd highly recommend thank yoU #so many ideas to draw so little time

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savedbybangtan · 4 years

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Masterlist

Here’s the work I’ve done on this blog! Hopefully this will help me and you keep track of what’s going on on this blog.

Right now, I’m sO busy, but hopefully in the future I will sort out the aesthetics of this blog. I write as a form of stress relief (writing helps me to sleep for some reason... I think I have anxiety?Like how the members let Joonie peel potatoes on Bon Voyage to calm him...writing and posting has the same effect for me), so I’ll be writing and posting :), but for now I am not putting very much effort in the entire reading experience - I apologise for this.

Please, look forward to me spicing up this blog when the semester is over! I have some big plans.

To me, fluff is a soft plot. There will be nothing explicit or made for mature audiences; no sex scenes, no intense language, no drama. Typically, this can be compared to PG13 movie ratings.

Smut is not written for anyone under the age of 18. If you are 17 and younger please do not read the stories that I’ve tagged as such.

Not Delulu (Kim Namjoon)

Summary: You always hated women who dated kpop idols and are so glad that your ultimate bias, Kim Namjoon, has never disappointed you by being involved in such a scandal. You swear you’re not a delusional fan who doesn’t want him to be happy. You truly just want what’s best for him.

Apparently, He just wants whats best for you, too <3.

Chapter warning tags: mild invasion of privacy?

1,498 words

Puppy Love (Jeon Jungkook)

Summary: At this point, you’re not even trying to remedy the issue.

smut, dubcon, stalking, possessive, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), pwp, one shot, unhealthy relationship

1,498 words

Let Me Love You (Park Jimin)

Summary: She lucked out one too many times. Luckily, Jimin was there to ‘save’ her.

Warning tags: smut, dubcon, stalking, possessive, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall), slight yandere?

2,916 words

Smell the Roses (Kim Jin)

Summary: A woman living alone in the city makes a new friend, Jin.

Smut

Warnings: smut, dubcon, mild stalking, possessive, unprotected sex (wrap it up yall)

5,503 words

Intermittent Fasting (Jung Hope)

Summary: She changes her entire being to be perfect for Hoseok. Don’t you think she has a right to him?

Smut

Warnings: fluff?, smut, drinking, drug use

2172 words

A Phantom Came at Night (Kim V)

Summary: You never thought Taehyung would take things this far.

(This is heavily based on Singularity.)

Genre: Thriller

2,200 words

Document (Min Suga)

Smut

You and your fwb, Suga, have sex.

999 words.

Miss Connection (Kim Namjoon)

Fluff

Namjoon takes a break from work and encounters a strange, shy girl.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Coming Soon!!!

I don’t want to spoil what I’m writing about so I wont include any summaries for these. Instead, I will use a “purity” scale that I think would be more useful. For this scale, a 1 would signify that it is normal and free of disturbing or deep themes while a 10 would mean its highly disturbing. The rating will be in parentheses next to the title.

*The reason why Tae and Jiminie has so little drafts is because my stanning goes in cycles, and when I had cycled through them, I was not writing fanfics yet lol. I honestly didnt think I would reach the part of stanning where I wrote fanfics tbh but here I am ahaaa.

**This list does not include ideas on stickynotes or my unholy OT7 fics. I have three separate degenerate fics that include OT7 x Reader. There are like 10 sticky notes I have for ideas for fics that I will most likely use for vmin.

JHS

Its Just a Phase/Gothic (2)

Smut, Angsty af

A Reason/Mafia AU (7)

Smut (ofc), unhealthy character, mental illness innit

Magic Shop/Magic (4)

Smut, violence, kinda depressing

Intermittent Fasting (6)

New Chapters As I wrote in the first part’s summary, its going to get darker.

Zion (1)

One shot, Pure smut, pwp, cute imo

PJM

Psychological (7.5)

Yandere, Smut, disturbing

This one is up next! Update: Posted under new title!

JJK

Gym (6)

No smut, no fluff, no angst. more thriller like

Missed You (2)

Smut, might add angst

Retrospect (5)

PTSD, domestic abuse, physical abuse, violence

Siren (10)

noncon, unhealthy relationship, mc cant get a break

Summer (9)

Smut, Angst, idk if the rating is high because a main theme is personal to me and i think its the worse thing a man can do.

Tutor (1)

fluff, <3

KNJ

Miss Connection (2)

New Chapters!!!

I really want to finish it even though its a series.

Language Barriers/”Hyung” (1)

Fluff, Smut

Most pure thing I’m writing tbh

Guinea (1)

Drabble, domestic, smut because why not

Respectful (3 for cringe themes)

Smut drabble

Not Delulu (7)

smut, unhealthy themes

This one is up next :) Posted the first chapter! Now I’m working on the second. I’m having a lot of fun writing this one rn.

KSJ

Smell the Roses (3)

New Chapters!!!

This one is up next!!!! - (2Jan2021)

Cyber Sex (2)

Smut, not illegal but weird so it has a 2 rather than a 1, unhealthy themes but not so so bad

This Is Not an Exit (5)

idek. angst for sure

Together/Regret (2)

Angst, unhealthy themes

Love Aesthetic (1)

The name is the explanation

KTH

Separate (2)

Smut, angst

MYG

Dae (4)

Little smut, scifi?

Debut (2)

Angst, Smut

Graduate (2)

Smut

#bts fic #bts fanfic #Its a boring layout but I will one day spruce it up

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ineffably-good · 4 years

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I Will Follow You Into The Dark (10/10) (GO Fics)

Go read the whole thing on AO3

Summary: In which Crowley and Aziraphale throw an awesome party, a few members of Hell's secretarial pool make an appearance, and gifts are given.

Spring turned into summer, and although Aziraphale continued to research and plot, manipulate energies and dig through arcane sources, they made no real progress in restoring Crowley’s lost powers. Crowley, for the most part, handled it well – he occasionally found himself instinctively snapping in response to an immediate problem before remembering that he no longer could, but one look at Aziraphale would remind him what he had done it for and why.

The whiled the summer away traveling a little, spending long weeks out of town with Frederick (who’s house arrest was apparently over) in tow, and enjoying as many long, leisurely dinners and late morning brunches as they could.

Crowley slowly came to the full awareness that he now had a husband. Despite being the one to initiate the almost shotgun-style wedding, it took a while to settle in that the angel – the same angel who curled up next to him to read all night every night, who kept trying to sneak small tartan accents into his wardrobe and claiming complete innocence when called upon it, who kept showering him in almost more love, warmth, and affection than he could handle (almost) – was now bonded to him for life.

He liked to say the word, to himself, roll it around on his tongue. Husband, he’d whisper. Husband, husband, husband. He found he loved the sound of it. He took to calling to make reservations for them at dinner (now that he could no longer miracle the best table) and asking for a table for “my husband and I.” He occasionally interrupted a store clerk who wasn’t being attentive enough to point out that “my husband needs assistance.” He definitely took to stepping between Aziraphale and any young lovestruck fool who was eyeing him and finding a way to throw the word “husband” into the next sentence that came out of his mouth.

Aziraphale, for his part, continued to watch and worry over Crowley during the transition from powers to no powers. He could tell sometimes that Crowley missed them, and he suspected this would become a larger issue in the winter when he couldn’t conserve body warmth by relegating himself to snake form, but he had to admit that for the most part, Crowley seemed to be doing than he had expected with the change. He slowly found himself relaxing, fraction by fraction, as he realized that the demon was not going to change his mind about the bargain he’d made.

“I forgot to tell you something, angel,” Crowley said one morning. “I can’t believe I forgot this, it was really important!”

Aziraphale frowned and put down his coffee cup. “What? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Crowley said. “It’s just something from the conversation with God.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said.

“She said something about you,” Crowley said, “when I said you were the best thing she’d ever created. I can’t believe I never told you this!”

Aziraphale dimpled up ridiculously and blushed a bright pink. “Oh, my dear,” he murmured. “You said that to her about me?”

Crowley grinned. “Don’t give yourself the vapors, angel,” he said, “and anyways, it’s the truth. But my POINT is, what she said next. I asked if I could tell you because I knew you would want to hear it.”

Aziraphale found he was holding his breath.

“She said that you had never disappointed her,” Crowley said. “Not once. Never.”

He watched as the angel took that in, first frowning a little as he considered it, then his face cleared as Crowley watched the most phenomenal look of peace pass over him. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders, giving Crowley a pleased smile.

“Well then,” he said. “That’s just lovely to hear.” He thought for a minute. “I don’t suppose she provided it in written form so we could send a copy to that bastard Gabriel, did she?”

Crowley laughed.

Soon it was August, and the date of their wedding reception rolled around. It was a perfect night for it; the champagne sparkled, the appetizers were scrumptious, and their friends gathered to share in their happiness. It appeared to be a wonderful success.

“Dudes!” came a familiar voice, as Crowley and Aziraphale were considering where and how to begin cutting the massive, four layered chocolate cake. They turned and found Rat, who had dressed up for the occasion in a slightly less dingy-looking suit and had clearly combed his ear-like points of hair until they were smooth and shiny. “Thank you so much for the invitation,” he said. “That was really decent of you.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Well, we are very grateful to you for the help,” he said. “Seemed like the least we could do was invite you to the party.”

Crowley nodded agreeably. “We are,” he said. “Enjoy yourself!”

“I brought a couple of my friends from the secretarial pool,” Rat said, pointing off to the side behind him. “Don’t worry,” he hurried to assure them as he saw Crowley’s eyebrows go up. “They won’t do anything to cause any problems. They’re HUGE fans of the yours, man.”

Crowley and Aziraphale followed his pointing arm to a cluster of three small, intimidated looking demons who were clustered around a single white plate and nervously poking at various appetizers as if they might be alive. When they saw Crowley looking at them, they each raised a hand and waved shyly, with smiles ranging from starstruck to terrified.

Crowley groaned and waved back, trying to ignore the way Aziraphale was grinning at him. He bid goodbye to Rat with a pat on the arm and literally pulled the angel away from the secretarial demons’ line of sight.

“I don’t want to hear a single word about that,” he warned him. “I mean it.”

Aziraphale giggled – he actually giggled, the bastard – but he made a locking gesture over his lips and tucked the imaginary key in his pocket. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that the existence of Crowley’s fan club was something he was going to get mileage out of for years to come. He could wait.

Crowley, knowing exactly what his spouse was thinking, pulled him out onto the dance floor to distract him. He pulled the angel close and laid a hand on the small of his back. Distraction accomplished, he thought, as the angel became soft and cuddly as they shared a couple of dances to the slower pieces that were being played.

Soon enough Anathema came up to cut in, dancing with each of them in turn, as did other guests, and after a while Crowley found he had lost sight of the angel all together. He scanned the crowd for him and was surprised to see a very familiar shock of blond hair jumping up and down to the beat of what Aziraphale would refer to as “bebop”, near the front of the dance floor. He grinned and made his way over to wrap an arm around the angel’s waist and kiss him from behind.

“Having fun, love?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “It’s almost as much fun as the gavotte!” He had ditched his suit coat somewhere, rolled up his sleeves, and loosened his bow tie. He was glowing with happiness and exertion and it was all Crowley could do not to eat him like a snack.

Second best, he decided, was to get his angel another glass of champagne. Which he did. Hydration was important, after all.

Then Crowley found himself pulled back into the fray by Adam and his friends, and he lost sight of him again.

Crowley found him a little bit later.

“Come with me,” he said, extending his hand. “It’s time.”

Aziraphale tossed back the rest of the champagne he was holding and allowed himself to be pulled out the side door and across the lawn. They moved away from the buildings and their light, and Aziraphale hand-waved a small miracle to dampen the light pollution from both the city and the full moon, so they could more easily see the sky.

Crowley had previous laid out a large, light blanket over the soft grass, and he plopped down on it and reclined onto his elbows, patting the space between his legs. “Come here, you,” he said. Aziraphale smiled and settled in, leaning back with his head resting against Crowley’s chest. They both looked up at the sky – and waited.

It wasn’t long before they saw the first one.

“Oooooh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, pointing as the first meteor appeared. “Did you see it? It was right there.”

It was the last day of the peak of the Perseid meteor shower.

“Oh, they’re always so lovely,” Aziraphale said fondly.

“I made them, you know,” Crowley said, quietly. “Well, I made the comet they came from.”

“You did?” Aziraphale said. “I don’t think I knew that.”

“One of my first creations, before the fall,” he said. “It was just for practice, making a comet. Baby steps. But I always loved it the most, because it was my first.”

“And every August, its trail of debris delights the humans,” Aziraphale said with a fond smile.

“Or frightens them,” Crowley said. “But most of us know meteors are good luck, not bad. It seemed like a good omen for starting a new phase of our lives.”

They sat silently for another twenty minutes, heartbeat to heartbeat, just watching each glimmering spark streak across the sky and feeling ineffably connected.

“Shall we go back to our guests?” Aziraphale asked eventually.

“If we must,” Crowley said, standing up and helping Aziraphale rise. Aziraphale gave him that soft, contented smile that he loved so much, and then they turned to cross the open field back toward the lights and music.

They’d only gone a few steps when a buzzing beam of light appeared behind them, infinitely bright.

They spun around, and Aziraphale instinctively stepped in front of Crowley in a defensive stance. Crowley might be the creator of the two, but he was the former soldier, and he knew better to let his powerless husband get in harm’s way.

To his shock and dismay, Aziraphale was met with the large, disembodied head of the Metatron.

"Greetings, Principality Aziraphale and Demon Crowley," he said, his voice pleasant but clinical. "I bring you tidings from the Almighty on this the celebration of your nuptials."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a shocked look.

“May – may we speak with her?” Aziraphale asked.

"To speak with me is to speak with the Almighty," he replied, unflappable in his composure and certitude.

I bet this asshole just LOVES Gabriel, Crowley thought as he stepped forward to stand directly beside Aziraphale, shoulder to shoulder. He reached out and grabbed the angel’s hand. “What’s the message?” he asked.

"The Almighty wishes you to know that she bids you joy in your union,” the Metatron said. “Furthermore, she wishes you to know that she is moved by the selflessness with which you’ve both cared for each other in the light of the Demon Crowley’s altered circumstances. Your sacrifices and sincere, unselfish love have not gone unnoticed.”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Uh… thank you?” he said.

"Finally, in honor of your wedding, she wishes to offer you a nuptial gift."

The Metatron gestured vaguely with his eyes, leading them both to look up at a small, golden object that drifted slowly down from a point unseen. It appeared to be a box, Crowley thought, as it came to rest on the grass at their feet.

Crowley looked back at the Metatron. “What is it?” he asked suspiciously.

“It is a gift for you both from the Almighty,” the Metatron restated. “Do not dawdle in opening it, children. That is all.”

He faded away from sight.

They stood, staring wide-eyed at each other, then down at the golden box below them. Aziraphale, the first to recover his wits, bent down and picked it up, holding it away from his body as if he feared it might bite him.

“Should we go open it inside?” Crowley said.

“No,” Aziraphale said, shaking his head. “I think we should do this alone.” He pulled Crowley back to the blanket and they sat down, side-by-side, staring at the box still held in Aziraphale’s hands.

With unspoken agreement, they both reached for the lid and pulled it open.

A soft, golden glow filled the air, and a delicious aroma of roses became apparent. It took a moment to make out the contents against the glow, but soon Aziraphale lifted out a piece of parchment and a pair of small, golden cupcakes.

“Cupcakes??” Aziraphale said, puzzled.

“Cupcakes are for children!” Crowley said. “Didn’t we specifically say no cupcakes?”

“I believe we did,” Aziraphale hummed, unrolling the parchment. “’To a long and magical marriage’, it says.”

“A what?” Crowley said distractedly, still annoyed by the cupcakes. God and her ineffable sense of humor was getting on his last nerve.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, grabbing him by the forearm with urgency. “It says to a long and magical marriage.”

Crowley blinked. “You don’t think…”

“I do.”

“No.”

“What else could it possibly mean?”

“Knowing the almighty,” Crowley muttered, trying to beat down a surge of something like hope and hating himself for feeling it, “nearly anything.”

“I think,” Aziraphale said quietly, “that we had better eat them.”

Crowley’s heart began to bound. “Should we, though?” he asked, peevishly. “I mean, should we really? Isn’t this just a bit too Alice in Wonderland for you? We’re going to take a bite and find ourselves too big for the Earth or too small to exist or fall down some kind of interdimensional rabbit hole and then —”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s face in his hands. “My dear,” he said softly, stilling him with his most loving look, “trust me. I have a feeling about this.”

Aziraphale had a feeling. Oh joy.

Crowley looked into Aziraphale’s eyes, his favorite sight in all the world, and noted the intensity of his trusting gaze. Every detail of the scene seemed to ingrain itself into his senses – the blue-black night sky still streaked by the quick milky spill of comets, the branches of the oak behind them susurrating in the warm breeze, the scent of crushed, warm grass beneath them, the gentle spill of music and laughter from the party on the other side of the field. The moment seemed to stretch and bend around them, infinitely, like they were poised together over a great chasm, deciding whether to fall.

Crowley shrugged, unable to resist both his love and whatever the hell this was, and picked up one of the confections. He crossed the fingers of his other hand.

“Ready, then?” he asked as Aziraphale did the same.

“Ready.”

And without further delay, they each took a bite.

Nothing happened for a moment, then Crowley felt a warmth bloom in his chest and spread through him. He felt its golden tendrils wrap around his physical being, then extend to his ethereal one. It should have burned, he thought, but instead it just felt like the most delightful touch of sunshine. It swirled through all of him and then it drifted away.

He opened his eyes to find Aziraphale watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. He almost looked, he thought, like he was praying.

“Did you feel that too?” Crowley asked.

“I did,” Aziraphale said, “but I think it was stronger for you.”

“Should I –” Crowley swallowed, unable to complete the thought.

“Try it,” Aziraphale said gently. “Try a miracle. The worst outcome is nothing’s changed, and we’ve already gotten used to that.”

Crowley stood and raised the hand furthest away from Aziraphale to snapping position and pulled up from the ground in his usual fashion. Something did happen, but his hand emitted only a small spark rather than the flare of fire he’d been trying to raise.

“Wait,” he said. “That doesn’t feel quite right. I’m doing something wrong.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said carefully. “I think you need to try the other direction.”

Crowley froze. “I’m a demon,” he said. “I don’t pull my powers from Above.”

Aziraphale reached over and pulled Crowley’s now-clenched hand to his lips. “What if,” he said, “you’re something all together new?”

He placed Crowley’s hand in ready position at shoulder height and stepped back.

Crowley took a deep breath, snapped down, and then tossed a small, sparkling firework up into the sky over them. It broke into a golden chrysanthemum shape, and tiny gold petals drifted slowly to the ground around them.

Aziraphale gasped.

“I’m a DEMON,” Crowley repeated, desperately, feeling afraid and a little overwhelmed. “She didn’t just unfall me, did she? Because I don’t WANT that.”

Aziraphale frowned and scanned him with his more hidden senses. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You still smell like a demon. Pull out your wings.”

Crowley yanked his wings into their plane and Aziraphale caught his breath. They were still black and glossy, but sprinkled throughout them were tips of dove gray, just here and there, giving him a subtle, speckled appearance.

“What is it?” Crowley asked, craning his neck. “Oh, please tell me I’m not about to start really enjoying the Sound of Music for the love of –”

He caught sight of his wings and fell silent.

“Still a demon,” Aziraphale said, “or mostly so.”

“A demon who draws his powers from Heaven?” Crowley asked. “Who’s ever heard of such a thing?”

“You’re the very first,” Aziraphale said, beaming at him.

“What about you?” Crowley said. “What did you get?”

Aziraphale’s chin quivered with happiness. “I got you, fully restored, my love – what more could I possibly want?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but gently. “Wings, angel,” he said. “Let me see ‘em.”

Aziraphale obediently pulled out his wings and Crowley circled him, observing. “Yours have changed too,” he said. “There’s some dove gray here and there that wasn’t there before.”

The angel looked thoughtful. “I wonder what it all means.”

Crowley took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around his husband. “We have, by my count, approximately forever to figure it all out, love.”

“As long as we figure it out together,” Aziraphale said. “Always.”

“Damn straight,” Crowley replied.

“I think it’s time to go bid our guests good night,” Aziraphale said. “You can miracle them up an endless supply of alcohol and we shall let the youngsters keep the party going until dawn. We’ve already paid for the cleaning crew in the morning.”

Crowley smiled. “And what will we do?”

He could hear Aziraphale’s answering smile even in the dark. “I would like to go home,” he said decisively, “and lie under the skylight in the bedroom with you and watch the rest of the meteors go by.”

“Home,” Crowley said, his heart as full as he had ever known it. “Home it is, then.”

#good omens fics #Aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands #anathema device #do you like really long fics?#with lots of tension?#well i might have a story for you

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purpleillusn · 5 years

Text

Returning After the Reveal

Phic Phight attack 3

Prompt: “A post Phantom-Planet (or post reveal, if you hate PP that much) fic in which Danny is getting used to his new fame and recognition as a superhero. His teachers, classmates, and even former bullies are all suddenly treating him differently, and Danny’s not quite sure what to do with that.” - @love-ly-ish

Words: 7143

Danny pushed his crutches down again, supporting his weight as he made his way over to the X-Ray room. He was pretty sure that he could have walked, but doctor’s orders said he couldn’t, hence the crutches.

Whispers erupted as he traversed the labyrinth of corridors. Onlookers either appeared to be in awe, admirers and fans of his Phantom persona, while others scowled, moving out the way, many fearful of the teen in front of them, or rather his powers. He supposed he hadn’t been expecting anything different, the world probably hadn’t been ready for the existence of halfas, but had been introduced to them anyway.

A mother pulled her child away and close to her chest just as he’d tried to go up to Danny, attempting to shield the boy from him. Danny sighed and his mom placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

They entered the room, and Danny lay on the table as per the previous X-Ray, while Maddie joined the radiologist further away. If there was one thing Danny was grateful for in this great big mess of a situation, it was his parents’ unwavering support. Without them kicking up a fuss it would have been entirely possible for the GIW to cart him off to their labs, labelled as an ecto-based threat, while he was unconscious and wounded. Danny suppressed a shudder at that idea.

“Danny, you can come over here now,” called the doctor, a kindly old man who looked somewhat like a walrus.

On the computer screen was Danny’s leg, his tibia and fibula completely intact, just as expected. “Jeez you heal fast, kid. Most people would take months to recover from that,” commented the doctor, clicking into the image to zoom in. “Not even a hairline fracture anymore.”

Danny cringed - he’d had one hell of a compound fracture. On top of that apparently they had to pick fragments of bone out of his leg. Nope, he was not going to imagine that. The surgeons had been slightly freaked out even after he came around post-surgery, his healing factor having caused problems with treating his injuries.

“Does this mean I don’t need crutches now?” Danny asked hopefully, lightly kicking the leg in its brace.

“Yes, you’re free to go. Just don’t go breaking more bones on us,” the doctor chuckled, his belly shaking as he did so.

“No promises,” Danny responded, flashing him a smile before sitting down to phase the cast off his leg. “Uh, so, what do I do with this?” He waved it in the air. This was nice, being able to use his powers around others without having to fear exposure.

Maddie took the cast from him and placed it in the appropriate bin as they left the hospital. “Well, that went well,” she said, trying to maintain an optimistic mood despite the countless pairs of eyes on them, passing their own individual judgement.

Danny muttered something under his breath and Maddie asked him to speak up.

“I’d have preferred for none of this to happen in the first place,” he said barely loud enough for her to hear properly. “I should’ve handled the attack better.”

Maddie sighed. “You can’t be perfect, Danny. I wish you hadn’t got hurt like that, but it’s all we can do to move on from it now. You saved a lot of lives that day, and anyone who tells you otherwise is a liar.”

“So I’ve heard,” Danny said spitefully, immediately resenting himself for taking that tone with his mom. “Sorry, I just-” He trailed off.

“It’s been a stressful few days, hasn’t it?” she said, unlocking the car and opening the door.

Danny mirrored her in opening the door on the passenger side, slipping into his seat. “Yeah.”

They backed out of the parking lot, the sound of tacky pop music coming from the radio while Danny picked at the fabric of his jeans. “Mom? Do you ever have times when you feel you could have done better?”

“Of course I do. Regrets are part of life, and no matter what you do, there’ll always be that nagging voice in your head,” Maddie said as she turned onto the highway.

“How do you deal with it?” Danny enquired.

Maddie glanced at Danny, then cast her eyes back to the road. “I remind myself that my mistakes are in the past, and I can’t change them. Plus focusing on the positives helps, like people you helped and ways you can do better in the future.”

Danny contemplated her words for a few seconds. “Thanks, mom.”

They were now approaching Amity Park, which did not have its own hospital due to the risk of ghost attacks. Craters, Danny-shaped and otherwise, marred the landscape and they passed a sign reading ‘Amity Park: A nice place to-’ The rest of the sign having been destroyed by ectoblasts, leaving it illegible.

Maddie cleared her throat. “But even I have regrets I can’t forgive myself for.”

“Oh,” Danny said, knowing full well where this conversation was heading. They’d had this conversation once already, in which Danny adamantly defended them, though admittedly he had been pretty drugged up then, so he couldn’t blame her for talking about it again. “I still don’t blame you for anything. I chose to lie to you- I shouldn’t have, and there was no way you could’ve guessed that your living son was a ghost.” He breathed before continuing. “You can’t change the past.”

Maddie conceded and continued the drive without bringing it up again, instead choosing to talk about space and recent developments in astronomy and astrophysics.

They stopped in the driveway of the Fenton house, now with a metal fence to fend off rabid reporters, fans and those who despised Danny and his entire family. They’d probably have to upgrade the security system at some point soon, but for now it would do.

The house was a lot cleaner than the night of the ghost attack, but was still somewhat disheveled, albeit without fragments of glass around the place now. “Good to see you Danny-boy!” Jack engulfed Danny in a one armed hug, his left arm being covered in bandages. “Can’t keep you down, eh?”

Danny chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Speaking of which, Danny, we’ll need to do a check up on your core,” Maddie interjected, catching Danny off guard with how naturally the words came from her mouth. They seemed to be adjusting about as well as one could to the revelation that their son’s half ghost, going so far as to lock up their most powerful weapons and program all of the inventions they could to ignore Danny’s ectosignature, including the ghost gabber, much to Danny’s delight. Sam and Tucker had managed to convince the Fenton parents that separating Danny’s ghost and human halves would be a terrible idea by explaining the Fenton ghost catcher incident, that and it didn’t take a scientist to know that ripping away part of someone’s body wasn’t good for them. If Danny was healthy and happy, that’s all that mattered to them.

The core check-up went similarly to an X-Ray, just in the lab, and with a different machine.

Danny pulled his t-shirt over his head, ignoring the fact that his hair was now even more messy than usual, and walked over to the computer screen displaying the scan.

A look at the display wouldn't mean much to someone without knowledge of ectobiology, but both the Fenton parents and Danny could see that it had thousands of tiny marks of damage, like the tears that form in a muscle after excess exertion.

“It looks like it’s healing. See? Snowfang was right,” said Danny.

Snowfang, the head doctor in the Far Frozen, had assured them that it would heal with time, as long as Danny did not overexert himself again.. Naturally the Fenton parents had still been worried, and coming up with ways to aid healing.

His dad grinned at him, while his mom had an unreadable expression of thought.

“You’ll still have to drink ectoplasm until you’re better,” she ordered, before quickly adding, “but maybe don’t bring it to school tomorrow.”

Crud. School. Danny cringed at the thought of his phan club following him around. “I’m not sure if I want to go back there. I mean, what if people…”

Maddie crouched slightly to be eye to eye with Danny. “It’ll be fine, just give it a try, okay? And if it’s too much for you, or you get bullied, we can always look into home education.”

Danny nodded, eyes downcast.

The ring of the doorbell pierced through the quiet and momentarily drowned out the whir of machines from every angle of the basement.

Jack was the first to reach the door, opening it only to remember that there was also a tall metal fence and gate between the street and the living room. “Jazzypants! Elle!” he bellowed as he opened the gate, letting two girls in. Elle gave him as much of a hug as her short arms could manage, channelling some ghost powers to jump up. Jack patted Danielle’s back and closed the gate. Danny’s face lit up at the sight of his adoptive sister, now dubbed ‘Elle’ both to avoid confusion and due to her sense of individuality, still clinging onto their dad as he came back into the house. The adoption would be going through quickly after they’d ‘convinced’ Vlad that it was best to let them adopt her and for him to leave her alone. It hardly seemed like she’d only lived with them for less than a week, yet that was undeniably the truth.

Elle, grinning broadly, dropped to the floor. “Hey, Danny, you’re all better?”

Danny made a more or less gesture with his hand. “Pretty much.”

Jazz announced her presence by dumping a large bag of books on the floor with a thud. “Well, that’s book shopping done.”

Danny glanced at the bag, stunned. “Did you buy the entire bookstore?”

“Ha, ha,” Jazz deadpanned. “Elle’s starting Middle School in September, that’s only five months away, so she’ll need to catch up on any material she missed out on by then.”

Elle was less excited by the idea of school, and instead pulled out a book titled ‘How much poo does an elephant do?’. “I got to choose some books I wanted too.”

• • •

Sweat poured from Danny’s brow as he tried his best to hold up the beams of a near-collapsed building while the last inhabitants ran for safety. After the last person escaped, guided away by Maddie and Jack Fenton, he intangibly passed through the building, letting it collapse through him, and turned his attention to the gruesome ghost currently being shot at while trying to chase down the Red Huntress. She looked worse for wear, her suit not repairing the scratches in it like it typically did. The fight had been drawn out for too long, and everyone knew it, but the ghost just didn’t seem to have a weak spot, all shots ricocheting off its armored skin. And worst of all it had a fire core, leaving the pavement melted under it with each step it made.

“Oi! Ugly!” Danny shrieked, a lot more shrilly than he than he originally intended. The taunt had the exact effect Danny wanted, all of the dozen or so eyes of the beast turning towards him and narrowing. Its nostrils flared, and it made a beeline for Danny, stomping down anything that stood in its way.

Calling on the power of his own core, Danny sent out a blast of ice, which encased the ghost for mere seconds before melting under the extreme heat of its flaming breath. Danny created an energy shield, doing his best to block the attack, his palms burning as the fire was redirected around him and into the building, exciting the embers floating in the air and on the ground.

The flames stopped abruptly as yet another fighter flew into the fray, blasting the beast in the side. “Leave my cousin alone!” Elle yelled, unleashing another energy ball, which knocked the creature back.

It was then that Danny saw something, a weakness, an opening. The ghost opened its mouth and Danny took this opportunity to shoot a beam on ice into it, giving the ghost the worst possible case of brain freeze experienced by any being. Without hesitation, Danny tackled the ghost to the ground, glancing up at Valerie who was pulling out her thermos.

Unfortunately, Danny really should have kept his attention on the ghost, as it grabbed him by the leg in its vice-like grip and hurled him into the rubble of the building he’d been trying to hold up just a minute earlier. A sickening crunch of bone shattering could be heard as Danny’s body crashed against the hot concrete and brick. He tried to climb to his feet, only to realise that one of his legs was practically snapped in two, and instead hovering weakly. Elle flew over to him like a rocket, putting an arm under his shoulder to support him, seeing his exhaustion.

Danny evaluated the situation, noting that the ghost appeared to be much more sluggish, cracks showing in its skin, revealing what looked to be swirling magma underneath.

“Cover your ears! Now!” he shouted and unleashed an unearthly wail, rippling through the air, peeling through the armor of the ghost with each wave that came its way.

Danny collapsed, ears ringing, desperately fighting back white rings while Elle held him just above the ground.

A blue light engulfed the magma ghost in front of them, and the Red Huntress landed, hoverboard retracting into the soles of her shoes, now-full thermos in her hand. “Phantom? I just wanted to say thank you, both of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Danny offered her a tired smile before falling into the black, a ring of light passing over his head as he dropped like a rock.

Danny awoke with a start, glancing at the time on his alarm clock: 6:45 am. Could be worse. Of course he’d just had to have that dream, that memory again the night before school. The universe was simply unkind to halfas - not even permitting them to sleep until their alarm would have gone off.

He dropped out of bed and headed to the bathroom, figuring that if he was going to face his possible doom today, he might as well be presentable while doing so. The cold shower was nice - just another reminder that he was weird. Jazz always complained that he’d left it on the cold temperature when she went to shower.

Speaking of Jazz, she was already downstairs when Danny entered the kitchen. “Ready to go back to school, little brother?”

“No, not really” Danny sighed as he poured a bowl of cereal for himself, reminding him of the day when he’d almost told his parents his secret early on after being picked up by the ghost detector.

“I’ll be with you when we go there,” Jazz comforted. “Take deep breaths and try to focus on what could go well today.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Thanks.”

The Fenton parents came into the kitchen soon after, one from downstairs, and the other with a very grumpy looking Elle - apparently she was not a morning person. Maddie guided the sleep deprived halfa to the table, and she immediately brightened up at the prospect of breakfast, inhaling a bowl of Cookie Crisp.

“Remember your ectoplasm,” Maddie said to the half ghosts, placing a glass of the glowing green liquid in front of each of them, much to Danny’s chagrin. It wasn’t that it tasted bad, it was just weird, like sweet tasting batteries that prickled his tongue with its energy.

Elle seemed not to have inherited Danny’s dislike of the sensation, and downed her glass like orange juice. This was just one of the many differences between them that she had embraced, along with her love of toast.

Danny sipped his ectoplasm, reminding himself that it was just filtered from the atmosphere of the zone.

“What does it taste like?” Jack asked, like a curious puppy. He knew better than to try and drink some himself - ectoplasm was decidedly not suitable for human consumption. The only reason halfas could drink it was because their biology was different to a human’s on the molecular level.

“Kinda like honey charged with electricity,” Danny answered before taking another gulp of it.

“It’s nice,” Elle chimed in. “Danny’s just not used to it - that’s why he’s scared of drinking it.”

Danny shot her a playful glare and glugged the rest of the glass, which she cackled at.

The energy rippled through his core, like a concentrated energy drink, which wasn’t actually far off the mark as a description of it.

Jack hummed, and began tinkering with an invention he’d been working on on the side for the time Danny had been hospitalised. It was a small plastic wristband, with a glowing green light and small amounts of exposed circuitry where he’d unscrewed a panel on it. It was slightly rough looking, but for something thrown together over just a few days, it was impressive.

The band was a failsafe, in case the school had concerns about him harming other students that could not be remedied by their word - it suppressed Danny’s powers, namely his ectoblasts. It wasn’t great, but if worst came to worst it at least wouldn’t hurt Danny.

Pocketing the band, Jack and the rest of his family, including Elle, who was still worried that Vlad might come for her, clambered into the Fenton family RV (Maddie was driving as it was decided that property damage would not make a good impression).

They reached the school too early for Danny’s liking, and he wiped his clammy palms on his jeans before exiting the vehicle.

Mr Lancer was waiting outside, visibly surprised that nothing had been destroyed while parking until he noticed that Maddie had been driving. He shook the Fenton parents’ hands, and guided the family into the building.

Danny noticed the news van was parked in the road by the school, evidently not allowed onto school property, but figured it was best to ignore it - he’d honestly expected far more people following him around, but apparently he’d passed out of the news with the next big thing.

The early students gawked as the group passed them through the corridors on their way to Mr Lancer’s office, but Danny once again did his best to ignore it.

The office door was agape, and Principal Ishiyama was sat in a small plastic chair next to Mr Lancer’s desk. Mr Lancer closed the door after the group, sitting down in his worn padded chair and indicating to the plastic chairs arranged by the entrance. He surveyed the odd group as they lowered themselves to their chairs, eyes lingering momentarily on Elle, taking in the unfamiliar, yet familiar face.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, there has been protesting against Daniel returning to school,” Mr Lancer began, voice steady and calm, as if talking about any other issue at school, “however, we, as a school, and as people, will not discriminate against an individual based on their, biology. I am glad to see you healthy Daniel, and would like to make it very clear that you are welcome at this school.

“Your teachers, myself included are prepared to give you leeway and accommodate your ghost hunting. We do expect that you work hard to keep up with class work, and attend extra sessions if necessary, but you will not be punished for leaving lessons to deal with ghost attacks. I’m well aware that you are capable of doing well, and all you need to do if ask for help whenever you feel that you’re falling behind.”

Danny was ectatic. This was too good to be true! “Thank you Mr Lancer! I will.”

Ishiyama took this moment to interject. “But, we do have some restrictions we would like you to follow.”

Of course. There was always a catch.

“You are not allowed to abuse your privileges, and if it is found that you have been skipping class without a good reason there will be appropriate punishment. Additionally, you are not allowed to use your abilities to cheat or harm others. We do not take this lightly, and doing this could get you expelled from the school.”

Danny flinched imperceptibly at the mention of cheating.

“We will not stop you from using your powers altogether though. You may use what non-destructive or harmful powers you have as you feel comfortable with, we trust that you can use your judgement as to what is appropriate.”

“That sounds reasonable,” said Danny, relaxing slightly. “I promise I won’t hurt others, and I definitely won’t cheat.”

This seemed to satisfy the Principle, who smiled at the family. “Well then, enjoy your day. I believe lessons will be starting in fifteen minutes. Please ask myself or Mister Lancer if you have any questions.”

And with that Ishiyama pardoned herself from the room, leaving the family with just Mr Lancer, who shuffled a small stack of papers.

“One last thing, Daniel,” Mr Lancer called out to Danny as he went to stand up from his chair. “My door is always open if you need to talk about anything.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer!” Danny smiled up at his teacher, and left the office with the rest of his family.

“That went well,” commented Maddie, and Jack nodded enthusiastically. “We should really go home now. See you later, you two. I know you both find kisses embarrassing, so have a good day.”

“Bye,” both Danny and Jazz chorused.

“Enjoy your day of hell!” Elle shouted after them, a grin splitting her face from ear to ear.

“Same to you!” Danny yelled back as she rounded the corner and out of view.

Jazz and Danny said their goodbyes and went off to their respective lessons early. Waiting outside the science lab, Danny couldn’t help but keep an eye on every face that passed in the mass of students getting to class. His face lit up when he saw Sam and Tucker approach him through the crowd, their faces brightening an equal amount at the sight of their friend healthy and happy.

“Yo, how are you?” Tucker greeted, giving Danny a high five.

“Good. I’m all healed, and the school seems to be okay with me being here,“Danny replied. “What about you?”

“Pretty good. How’re your folks taking the reveal?”

“Great. They’re happy I’m going into ghost hunting, and they seem to have accepted my ghost half. They even adopted Elle!” Danny was practically bursting with joy, and it warmed the others through.

“Oh yeah, we saw her with your parents on the way in. She looks really happy - I guess she’s settling in well,” said Sam, smiling far too brightly for her goth aesthetic.

“Excuse me,” a small voice came from the right, and the trio turned to see Mikey, a small red haired boy, standing there timidly, with his nerdy friends behind him. “I, uh, I wanted to say thank you - for all the times you’ve saved us.”

Danny was dumbfounded. People knowing his not-so-secret identity was going to take some getting used to. “Um, no problem. I just did what anyone would do.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“So, how do your ghost powers work?” Mikey asked rapidly. “Are you a ghost? Does this mean you’re dead? You’re not dead, right?” He looked slightly horrified.

“Of course he’s not dead!” Sam said abruptly, the guilt of the accident gnawing at the back of her mind. The nerds flinched.

“What Sam said, I’m not dead, or at least I don’t think I am,” Danny spoke. “I’m not entirely sure how my powers work, we think I’m half ghost - um, when I got my powers, I think ectoplasm got bonded to my DNA or something.” Danny didn’t want to go into specifics of how he got his ghost powers. The memory was slightly traumatic, and he really didn’t want to risk others attempting to repeat it - that was dangerous, and painful.

“Woah, that’s so cool! Is it like a comic book origin story?”

“That’s enough.” Sam cut Mikey off, and he shrunk back.

The teacher soon emerged from the classroom to shepard the students to their seats. Mrs Bray, the strict, rule-abiding chemistry teacher, with a glare that could melt concrete, sat in her chair, back straight as the pole that was probably stuck up her butt. She read out the register, each student replying with a ‘yes miss’, until she reached Danny’s name and mutters broke out among the students. Her eye twitched, but she continued the register after Danny confirmed his presence

Once the register was over, she stood before the board, and took a breath before her lecture.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Mr Fenton has been revealed to be somewhat of a celebrity, however, I would like you to respect his privacy, and there will be no discussion of him or anything of the sort in my classroom. I expect you to focus on your work, and nothing else while you’re here. Am I understood?”

“Yes miss,” came the drone of thirty or so students brought an odd sense of relief to Danny. In her own way, his teacher was showing her support, preventing others from pestering him during class. Unfortunately, she could not stop the glances that were sent his way throughout the lesson. Dash in particular seemed to be staring the most, a guilty expression on his face. Oh, Danny was probably going to have an awkward conversation after class, unless he turned invisible to escape, but that would probably just draw more attention to him.

Valerie, on the other hand, appeared to have a swirl on emotions passing behind her eyes as she occasionally glanced at Danny, as though wanting to talk to him, which she of course did. Okay, so that was going to be two awkward conversations after the lesson.

As the teacher told people to pack up, Danny psyched himself up for what awaited him out of Mrs Bray’s classroom. Valerie was aggressively stuffing her bag, and Danny feared what she’d do once they were out of the classroom. Scenarios passed through his head, each of them involving a way in which Danny’s life, or rather the next few minutes of his life, could go wrong.

The instant they were out the classroom a hand grabbed Danny’s arm and dragged him to the janitor’s closet. Valerie stood there, somehow seeming sad, worried and majorly pissed off, all the while managing not to scream. Sam and Tucker burst in, quickly tailing after the ghost boy. “Hey, Valerie, don’t do anything rash,” Sam implored, “wait, are you crying?”

Pearlescent tears were trailing down from Valerie’s eyes, and she wiped them away with her arm. “Tell anyone I’ve cried and you’re dead!” Valerie snapped.

“I wouldn’t think of it,” placated Sam. “Do you want us to leave so you can talk to Danny?”

Valerie shook her head. “No, stay, please.” She almost pleaded towards the end, the emotional strain from the past week bubbling to the surface.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For hunting you, for blaming you for everything that went wrong in my life,” Valerie cried quietly.

“It’s fine, Val I’m sorry for lying to you for all this time.” She looked up to see Danny putting a hand on her shoulder, ice blue eyes radiating comfort. Valerie shook her head again, a lot more violently than she intended to.

“I didn’t exactly give you much choice, did I?”

Danny just shrugged. The bell telling them lessons were starting chose that moment to go off, and panic quickly spread through the group before they conceded themselves to their fate of being late to English.

“Y’know, now would be a great time for a ghost attack we can blame for us being late to class.” Danny tried to lighten the mood, but quickly regretted it when his ghost sense went off - his face falling as the blue mist swirled into the air in front of him at the same time as Valerie’s ghost detector going off. “Okay, I was kidding, but I should probably take care of this.” He suddenly looked nervous. “Want to team up on this one, Val?”

Valerie looked taken aback. “What? You trust me just like that?”

“Well, yeah. You are my friend - our friend.” Danny corrected himself seeing Sam and Tucker opening their mouths to correct him on that point. “Danny’s right,” Tucker said, leaning against the closet door to listen out for the ghost attack.

Sam continued, “as much as I may have been reluctant to admit it, you have become a friend over this time. And by the way, we’ve known about your ghost hunting since the beginning - at the park. You might want to consider getting something to mask your voice if you want to keep a secret identity.”

Valerie felt a blush flush into the cheeks. “You got it,” she said, checking the radar on her ghost detector as she did so. “It’s by the sports hall. I’m new to this teamwork stuff, what do you three do about ghost attacks?”

“Uh, do you two want to handle this one?” Tucker’s hand clasped the door handle. “We can go tell Mr Lancer why you’re late.”

“I’m guessing you want us to keep your ghost hunting a secret Valerie,” Sam asked rhetorically. “We can just tell Mr Lancer that you’re helping Danny out or something and leave it at that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Valerie said, activating her suit, covering her face last. Tucker gave a low whistle at the show of electronics, and glanced to Danny, who seemed unfazed by her suit. Of course he was, this kid had seen it all before.

Seeing that Valerie was comfortable enough in his presence to activate her suit, Danny went ghost, rings of blinding white travelling across his body. Valerie’s mouth was practically on the floor - this much was evident even with her mask. Danny Phantom floated opposite her, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“Ta-da,” he quipped, and Valerie collected herself enough to notice that Sam and Tucker were snickering at her reaction. They quickly scampered off to Mr Lancer’s lesson, and Danny extended his hand to Valerie.

“Wanna try navigating like a ghost?” he asked, eyes twinkling like stars.

She took his gloved hand, and screamed as she was whisked along through the wall. A feeling like being submerged in icy water sent a shiver down Valerie’s spine. Noticing her reaction, Danny landed on the other side of the wall in an empty classroom. “Sorry, I really should have warned you about that.”

“No, it’s fine - just felt cold,” Valerie tried to quell the expression of guilt that had wormed its way into Danny’s face. It was still weird seeing Phantom as Danny, even if his reveal had been caught on camera and broadcast on live TV. There was something innately wrong about seeing your friend as a ghost, and the odd glow he had to his skin didn’t help make him look like the human Danny Fenton she’d known., illuminating his features oddly and making him appear almost as a completely different person.

“Oh, yeah.” Danny fiddled with the hair on the back of his neck. “I kinda forgot - Sam and Tucker are both used to it, and I don’t normally make others intangible.”

“Really, it’s fine. Let’s go find that ghost before it hurts someone,” Valerie insisted.

Danny nodded with renewed determination, and took her hand again tentatively before turning them intangible again and speeding off towards the gym.”

This was certainly different to flying on a hoverboard, Valerie thought to herself. A hoverboard at least somewhat obeyed gravity - ghost flight, not at all. She could somehow feel the movement while at the same time not feeling anything at all, but it was fun nonetheless.

They arrived at the gym’s storage room in a matter of seconds, and another plume of blue mist emerged from Danny’s mouth, indicating that the ghost was near.

“BEWARE!”

The Box Ghost was levitating a crate full of footballs in the air, features alight with menacing glee. He hurled the contents of the crate at the pair of ghost hunters, not realising that Danny had yet to drop his intangibility. Valerie flinched, Danny grinned, and the balls flew right through them. “Want to do the favors?” Danny indicated to the chubby ghost in front of them, now lifting a box of rackets.

“With pleasure.” Valerie activated a moderately sized gun that materialised in her hand, hitting the Box Ghost square in the butt.

He yowled and spun around just in time to be caught in the beam of the Fenton Thermos. He looked like a fat spider being sucked down the plughole, and the onlookers were torn between pity and entertainment at the sight.

“Well, that was anticlimactic,”Danny stated, landing firmly next to Valerie on the floor of the storage room, avoiding the balls scattered across it. “Should we tidy up the mess?”

Valerie looked surprised, recalling the copious amounts of property damage and mess both of them had created in the past.

Reading her expression, Danny explained. “I’ve been wanting to test out a new power, and this is a small enough scale that it should be fine.”

“You have a tidying-up power?” Valerie asked, eyebrow cocked, not that Danny could see it all that easily with her visor.

Danny chuckled, picking up on the heavy sarcasm laced in her tone, and his aura seemed to spark, every one of the balls in the vicinity gaining a bright green aura of their own and lifting into the air. He concentrated, eyebrows knitting together as the footballs drifted into the crate, all but one landing neatly inside it, which then lifted up as well and placed itself in its usual spot on the floor.

“Woah,” Valerie stood next to him stunned while he panted. “Was that telekinesis?”

Danny’s breathing went back to a more normal pace, still considerably deeper than usual. “Yeah. It’s something that most ghosts can do, but I only learnt it recently. As you can see…” He picked up the remaining football with his hand. “I need more practice, but it could be really useful.”

Valerie hummed. “You could use it to get people out of the way of debris, or stop the debris in midair.”

“That’s exactly why I want to perfect this skill.”

Valerie’s mind flashed back to Danny supporting the collapsing building, and she understood fully how important learning this new power was to him.

The two entered the classroom after a somewhat leisurely flight in the direction of the classroom and a stop in a closet to change out of their suit, and into their human form respectively. Mr Lancer stopped his lecture as the door opened, and every head in the room swiveled round to face the late duo.

“Mr Foley and Miss Manson already explained,” Mr Lancer said. “You can speak to me after class if there’s anything you need to catch up on that you missed in your absence.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny kept his head down as he made his way over to his seat, which of course had to be practically in the middle of the classroom. He could feel almost every eye in the room boring into his head as he settled down and brought out his books and pencil case. Chatter erupted amongst the students, and Mr Lancer sighed in defeat, knowing that having a ghost hunting ghost as a classmate had not lost its novelty with all the news coverage.

“How’d it go?” Sam asked, leaning over from her seat, taking advantage of the sudden stop to the lesson.

“Fine, it was just the Box Ghost,” Danny dismissed.

“And Valerie was fine?” she hissed, barely over a whisper.

“Yeah, she seems fine with the whole Phantom thing,” Danny replied in a very slightly louder voice, if only so Sam could hear him (she didn’t have the luxury of super-hearing). “She was kinda shocked by the feeling of intangibility, but it’s not a big deal.”

Sam shivered involuntarily. “I can understand that,” she said, still wary of the ghost hunting girl but willing to put aside her hostility and protectiveness for now.

The lesson continued as per usual after Mr Lancer managed to get control of the class again with a cry of “The Adventures of Huck Finn” and continued with his lecture. They didn’t actually finish all the work from that lesson before lunch, but it was good going considering the circumstances.

Lunch was a whole other challenge for Team Phantom, and the trio chose to bag lunch it outside out of fear of being mobbed.

“Dead Teacher 2 is still the best,” Danny said, leaning against the tree they were sat under, mouth half full.

Sam quickly chastised him for talking with his mouth full, before arguing to the contrary, saying that the 1st movie was the best without a doubt.

“I’m with Danny,” Tucker contributed to the conversation, “the second movie was really where they perfected it. Oh, hey Valerie!”

“Hi,” greeted Valerie, walking towards the group, lunch bag clasped close to her body. “Is it okay if I sit with you?”

Sam and Tucker shuffled around to allow her into their circle, and she seated herself on the grass. “So, uh, what’re you guys talking about?”

“Which Dead Teacher movie’s the best,” Sam supplied. “These two think that the second’s the best, even though the first’s obviously better.”

“I haven’t watched the latest ones, but the first one is definitely better than the second.” Valerie opened her bag and fished out a sandwich.

“Betrayal!” Tucker exclaimed, mock fainting with his arm to his forehead.

Sam punched him lightly on his lowered arm, which prompted a cry from the boy. He rubbed his arm and shot her a playful glare, which she returned, complete with a grin.

Valerie observed their antics, somehow feeling like there was more of a sense of unity between her and the trio now that their secrets were out in the open.

“Oh, yeah, Val,” Danny said, sitting up straight. “How’d you like to join Team Phantom?”

“That’s your team name?” She raised an eyebrow and Danny just shrugged. “Sure, but that’ll take some explaining as to why I’m working with you.”

Danny waved off her concerns. “It’ll be fine. We can just say we talked if anyone asks.”

Valerie shook her head mockingly. “How the hell did you keep your secret for as long as you did?”

“We’re pretty sure it was just dumb luck,” interjected Tucker, “emphasis on dumb.”

“What was dumb luck?” an obnoxiously loud voice came from the direction of the school building, and Dash Baxter and his cronies approached them.

The trio tensed, ready for a confrontation, only for Dash to raise his hands in a sign of peace. He suddenly looked a lot smaller, nerves showing through his veneer of toughness.

“I’m sorry, for everything I’ve done to you. If I’d known I was bullying my hero…” Dash’s eyes remained fixed on the ground, inspecting the blades of grass with a pitiful expression, like they’d personally killed his family, which in Amity Park wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that’d happened.

“We’re all sorry, dude. We couldn’t’ve known that you were-” one of the cronies was cut off by Danny.

“I forgive you, but you should bully anyone in the first place.” Danny folded his arms, looking at each of them in turn with a forced hard expression. It really looked odd on his baby face, but Dash and co seemed intimidated nonetheless.

They muttered between each other, before turning to face Danny again with guilty expressions. “We’ll try not to,” Dash said, and Danny unfolded his arms.

“Can you leave us alone?” Valerie demanded, not even trying to hide her hostility.

The bully gang exchanged glances before returning to the main building.

“I can’t believe you’d forgive them just like that. You know they only apologised because you’re Phantom, right?” Val scolded, and Danny looked like a wounded puppy at her words.

“I know, but I don’t want to be a douche,” Danny shrunk back from her.

Sam snorted. “What he’s trying to say is that he doesn’t hold grudges, even when he should, and forgives far to easily, like he’d trying to be some sort of paragon.” Danny scowled.

The rest of the day passed largely uneventfully, if you ignored the frequent whispers, nervous faces and admirers coming to apologise to Danny, thank him, or ask how he got superpowers - something that he declined to answer fully, leading to word quickly spreading that people should stop asking about that because it was rude to ask how a ghost died, which wasn’t entirely wrong, just not the whole reason for why it was a touchy subject for Danny.

All in all, it wasn’t half as bad as Danny had been expecting. It was actually somewhat anticlimactic in his opinion.

He sent a brief text, saying that he was going to talk to Mr Lancer because he missed some of the lesson, to his parents and knocked on the classroom door.

Mr Lancer answered the door, smiling at the halfa. “Daniel. Can I help you?”

Danny shuffled his feet. “Uh, I kinda wanted to catch up on the stuff I missed at the start of your lesson. Why did Arthur Conan Doyle have a recap at the start of the chapter?”

His teacher smiled, and invited him into the classroom, where Danny seated himself at the front of the empty classroom. “The Sherlock Holmes stories were initially serialized in magazines, each chapter in a different magazine, before they were compiled into complete books, so he would frequently recap the story for the sake of readers who may have forgotten the events of the previous chapters.”

Danny nodded, and took notes in his workbook.

“Is there anything else you wanted to ask?” Mr Lancer continued as Danny put his book back in his bag.

“No thanks,” Danny said, zipping up his bag. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all, Danny,” Mr Lancer replied. “How was your first day back at school?”

“A lot better than I expected. I think I’ll be fine here.”

“That’s certainly good to hear.”

Danny made for the door, only to stop when Lancer called out to him. “And remember, my door’s always open if you need to talk.”

“Thanks Mr Lancer.” Danny radiated a cool warmth from his beaming features. “Bye, see you tomorrow.”

#phic phight #phic phight 19 #danny phantom #my writing #i'm planning to do at least 1 more short fic and 1 really long one before the end of the phight

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

The Ballerina and the B-girl Part 10 (Branjie) - Starsha

a/n: Welcome to the ‘meet the parents’ edition of the Ballerina and the B-girl lesbian AU. Please read the tags as there is both explicit homophobia and racism in this chapter, so if that is triggering for anyone please don’t read the second half of the fic (Brooke’s family- the start of the section is clearly indicated)

— First up is Vanjie’s family — It was 6 months into her relationship with Brooklyn when Vanjie booked a trip home to Tampa to see her family. She was bringing Brooke to meet them and she was simultaneously incredibly excited and nervous. The same could be said for the blonde next to her in the Uber they had taken from their hotel to Vanjie’s mum’s humble house on the outskirts of the city. Brooke was always professional, poised and confident on the outside, but on the inside she was freaking out. Vanessa was her first girlfriend, and hence this was her first ‘meet the family’ and she really didn’t want to fuck it up.

The car pulled up and the couple got out, Vanessa lacing their fingers together as they walked up to the front door and knocked. The door swung open to reveal a woman even shorter than Vanjie, but with very similar facial features and the same infectious smile.

“Ah mi bebe is here!“ she screeched with a thick accent and launching to give Vanjie a hug.

“Hi Mami I missed you” Vanessa replies excitedly before breaking the hug and putting her arm around Brooke’s waist and introducing her.

“Mami this is my girlfriend Brooklyn. Isn’t she beautiful?” Vanjie stated proudly.

“Very very beautiful, the most beautiful” Mrs. Mateo mused, pulling Brooke into a hug. Brooke returned it, settling comfortably into her girlfriend’s mother’s arms. All of her fear and apprehension about not being accepted, stemming from her own family experiences no doubt, being stripped away by the gentleness of this woman.

“I’m so glad to meet you Mrs Mateo” Brooklyn gushed as the hug was broken, and Vanessa’s mother replied with a smile, “Please call me Rosa, you are family now”.

Brooke’s heart felt as though it was going to burst as she followed Rosa into the house, her arm wrapped around Vanessa’s waist. She tried to convey with touch to her girlfriend just how incredible her mother was for being so accepting and how thankful Brooke was. Brooke couldn’t help but think about how her mother would react in comparison.

They entered a kitchen where two men stood talking at the bench with beers in their hands. Upon the couples arrival they turned around and Brooke immediately saw the resemblance between them and Vanessa, inferencing that they must be her brothers.

They both looked Brooke up and down wide wide eyes.

“Holy shi-, this is your girlfriend Vanj?” one of them questioned with a stunned smile.

“Uh huh Marco this is Brooke, baby these are my brothers Marco and Fabian” Vanessa did the introductions.

“Damnnn our sister has game, you’re bloody gorgeous! Tall, white, exactly her type” The other brother stated bluntly, in a style so similar to Vanjie that had Brooke grinning widely.

“She sure does” Brooke answered, pecking Vanjie on the lips and making her brothers holler in support, her mother smiling on contently. This was so new to Brooke, Vanessa’s family had welcomed her with open arms and seemed overjoyed that she was in Vanjie’s life. It was stark contrast to how Brooke was sure ‘meet the family’ was going to go with her own.

They stayed at the house until late into the night. Vanjie’s family took an adoration to Brooklyn and she couldn’t be more pleased. They didn’t dwell on what she did for a living, more interested in her ballet and the vacation to the Bahamas that the couple had planned with Silky and Akeria, as well as Brooke’s friends Nina and Yvie. Vanjie’s brothers were protective yet so impressed with the woman that their sister was dating that they immediately became friends with the blonde, embarrassing Vanjie with stories from childhood wherever they could.

“Remember the time that Vanessa got her head stuck between the stair railings when she was-“ Vanjie cut Marco off with a stressed, “Oh wow it’s late we’d better get going babe”.

Brooke giggled at her girlfriends embarrassment, progressing to a laugh when Marco mouthed “Fourteen” at her with a wink. They said their goodbyes and planned to spend the next day at the beach together, Brooke fitting into the family dynamic like a perfect missing puzzle piece.

—Second up is Brooke’s family —

Vanessa knew very well that her girlfriend didn’t really have the best relationship with her family in Canada. They sent cards to the house on her birthday and Christmas, and she did the same but that seemed to be the be all and end all of communication. Occasionally she would get a phone call to congratulate her on business affairs, the most recent being when Brooke was featured in Forbes magazine as one of the most successful female CEOs in the country.

Vanjie knew for a fact that Brooke hadn’t seen her family in person in the two years they had been dating, and probably not for a while before then. Brooke had told her family that she was dating someone but not really any other details, which Vanjie understood. She couldn’t imagine being in Brooke’s shoes and having a family that was totally dismissive of her sexuality. Hence she was surprised when one day, Brooke declared over dinner that they would be going to visit her parents in Toronto.

“What’s brought this on babe?” Vanessa asked, serving herself another portion of the pasta salad Brooke had made.

“It just hit me on our anniversary that you have been a huge part of my life for two whole years, and yet my family knows nothing other than I’m dating someone. I’m ready to face the music Vanj, come what May and hell to pay”

Vanessa laughed at her girlfriends dramatics, but knew beneath the humour lay some very deep feelings Brooke had about her family’s rejection of her love life. Vanjie knew it hurt her, especially when they hung out with her family who had adopted Brooke as one of their own. Vanjie knew that Brooke wished that her parents could be like that. As mad as it made Vanjie that Brooke’s parents had hurt her, that just made her more eager to meet them and change their perception.

“Just warning you again babe, there is a strong possibility that my parents have lulled themselves into thinking that you are a man and I’m sorry for whatever their reaction might be” Brooke repeated for the 10th time that day as the couple approached her parents front door. They had elected not to hold hands to ease Brooke’s parents into their relationship status. They knocked and awaited what was certain to be an interesting first impression.

The door opened to reveal an older woman, not quite as tall as Brooke but still towering over Vanjie. Vanessa could immediately see the resemblance, with the defined bone structure and fair hair this had to be Brooke’s mother. The woman took Brooke into her arms without saying a word and held her for a minute. It was clear to see this woman loved her daughter, that she had missed her. The hug ended and she stepped back to look from Brooke to Vanjie and back to Brooke again with a confused expression. Vanjie immediately felt self conscious, feeling the judgement deep inside. She knew she looked appropriate and presentable, wearing an expensive high necked white dress ending just above the knee that Brooke had bought for her, but she was still worried.

Brooke took a stand, reaching down and lacing her fingers with Vanessa’s, the expression on her mothers face turning from confusion to pure disappointment. Brooke had warned her of this, but it still stung Vanessa to think that it was disappointing to her girlfriends mother that she was a woman.

“Mom, this is my girlfriend Vanessa” Brooke stated confidently, however Vanjie could feel her shaking. Brooke’s mother just stared blankly at the couple, as if her mind was having a rigorous debate with itself. She visibly forced a smile, but it was a smile all the same.

“It is nice to meet you Vanessa. Please come in”

Vanjie all but clung to Brooke as they made their way into the house, she had never felt more uncertain and as though she didn’t belong in her life. Brooke’s mother made small talk about the weather and their flight, which both women were grateful for. It was when they entered the kitchen that the shit really hit the fan.

There were two very tall men before them standing at the kitchen bench, one Brooke’s father and the other Vanjie assumed to be her brother. They immediately intimidated Vanjie just from their height alone, but the look of distain the pair shot them as they saw their linked hands had her instinctually press into Brooke’s side. This probably made the impending situation worse, but Brooke wrapped a protective arm around her waist and took a small step in front of her which was slightly comforting to the short brunette in a room of tall unaccepting people. Her brother screwed up his face in apparent disgust, whilst her father broke the silence.

“For the love of God, Brooklyn. I thought at 34 you would be past this ridiculous phase of yours. How dare you disappoint us like this, your poor mother! She has been talking about today with her friends for weeks, so excited that you were going to finally bring a man home to meet us. And here you are, with this” he spat, shooting a glare that could melt steel at Brooke and Vanessa. His words stung Vanjie more than any other homophobes’ ever had, because this was the love of her life’s father. Brooke was shaking and all Vanessa could do was wrap her arm around to rest on her lower back and rub it to soothe her.

She may have been shaking, but Ms Brooklyn Hytes was not someone that took shit from anyone, especially when it came to her girlfriend, and so Vanjie wasn’t surprised when she stood up for herself and clapped back at her fathers cruel words.

“Pretty hard to call my sexual orientation a phase when I’m 34, and have never had any interest in men whatsoever. If bringing my girlfriend of TWO YEARS home to meet you isn’t enough of an indicator that I’m never going to be the perfect straight daughter you wish I was, then I don’t know what is. I’m sorry that my ‘lifestyle’ is an inconvenience to your social lives, and that you can boast of my career successes with gusto yet ignore a huge and important part of my life because it doesn’t fit with your fantasy for me”

Brooke’s fathers face was fuming, and her brother decided that this was his time to input his opinion into the conversation.

“I honestly think it’s disgusting that you’d bring this…” his face paused as if looking for the last offensive word he could, “…partner of yours to our family home. You’re selfish Brooke, you’re only thinking of yourself flashing your sinful lifestyle in our faces”

Vanessa’s spare hand balled into a fist, she wanted so bad to punch Brooke’s brother. Brooke calmly wrapped her arm around Vanessa tighter, and answered from her heart as if trying to reach some part inside her family that could see reason.

“It really doesn’t matter what you all think, I love Vanessa. I love her with all my heart and I’m bringing her to meet you because she is a special part of my life that I wanted to share with you. I hope that one day you might accept me for who I am, but for now, can’t you just be civil and polite as you would to any of your other children’s partners”

Brooklyn’s dad was taken aback at that. He stood for a minute in thought, her brother looking between him and the couple. He took a deep breath before giving his verdict.

“You are right Brooklyn. You deserve for us to at least respect that this is your reality, as much as we do not agree”.

Brooklyn’s brother looked stunned with disbelief and voiced some expletives and slurs before exiting the room. The others sat down at the table, and for the next couple of hours over afternoon tea both parents made an effort to get to know Vanessa. And naturally, as they opened their minds, they both found themselves falling in love with her charisma and personality. She sure as hell could charm the shit out of people when she wanted to.

Brooke’s father pulled her to the side as Vanjie helped Brooke’s mum wash up the glasses in the kitchen.

“She’s a good one, I’m proud of your choice Brooklyn” he said, Brooke’s face lighting up in a smile at his approval. “I know that I am not the most accepting father, and that I have a long way to go. But this girlfriend of yours is everything I could have ever hoped a child of mine would find in a partner, I can see how happy she makes you. And at the end of the day, if my daughter is happy that is all that matters most to me”

Brooke couldn’t help herself, she pulled her father into a tight hug and stifled the tears that threatened to flow over. Vanessa came to her side and her father embraced her in a hug, affirming that he had meant what he said. It was true that her parents had a long way to go before they were waving rainbow flags at pride, but Brooke was grateful that they accepted Vanessa into the family as equal to any of her siblings’ partners.

The next day, Brooke and Vanessa were over at her parents for lunch. Brooke’s mother had taken an adoration to Vanessa, so the two were merrily preparing lunch in the kitchen together whilst Brooke helped her father out with some paperwork that he was confused about. Brooke was so happy to be rebuilding her relationship with her parents, but her brother proved to be an ongoing problem when he arrived with his girlfriend.

He took one look at Vanessa in the kitchen with his mother and lost his shit.

“Mother, what is she doing here?” He spat. Vanjie’s eyes darted around looking for Brooklyn, but came up empty. To her surprise, Brooke’s mother stood up for her.

“She’s here because she is being an amazing future daughter in law and helping me make lunch” she said bluntly, smiling sweetly at Vanessa. Vanjie couldn’t believe it, the reference to the woman’s acceptance of her possibly marrying Brooke one day made her heart flutter.

Brooke’s brother on the other hand looked furious and disbelieving, “Future daughter in law?! Mother you can’t be serious! This woman is nothing more than a hot piece of ass that Brooklyn is using to fulfill her sick sexual desires. Besides she’s probably just doing it with Brooklyn for her money, there’s no way a little wetback like her is just with a CEO out of love. There’s no such thing as homosexual love anyways, it’s purely a disgusting lust”

Vanjie was dumbfounded at his blatant homophobia and racism, and was about to go off in offence but Brooklyn beat her to it. The blonde came bursting through the kitchen door, having heard everything. She had her angry boss demeanour on, which terrified even the most macho of men. She faced up against her brother, and although he had a few inches on her it was as though he was 3 feet tall.

“It is absolutely unacceptable for you totreat my girlfriend that way, like she’s not here, like she’s nothing, like she’s some sort of criminal! She is with me, has been longer than your girl has been with you, and so she is part of this family! I will not have you blatantly disrespecting her and our relationship! And just for your information you have not talked to me since I came out other than to ask for money, whilst Vanessa hasn’t asked for a damn cent. I think you should look at yourself before accusing others of being freeloaders Ben!”

Her brother stood frozen in place, tears of rage and embarrassment in his eyes. He averted his gaze and swallowed hard.

“That is enough Brooklyn” Brooke’s mother pleaded, not liking seeing her children fight. However, she was appalled by what her son had said about the small, sweetheart of a girl that stood at her side trembling, so she took Vanessa’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Apologise to Vanessa please Benjamin” she requested, and his face shot up in shock at that, “She has done nothing but be helpful and make your sister the happiest I have ever seen her, so you should make an effort to make amends”.

His face contorted with discomfort, looking at Vanjie sheepishly. She sassily raised an eyebrow as he forced out an apology. “I’m sorry Vanessa for how I treated you, especially those things about you being a gold digger. And Brooklyn, I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your relationship, guess I’ve got a lot to learn and a lot to accept”

Brooke was satisfied with that and thanked him with a nod, before moving over to make sure Vanessa was ok. She wrapped her arms protectively around the smaller girl from behind, Vanessa leaning back into her embrace. Her brother may be a lost cause, but Brooke was so happy that her parents accepted her and Vanjie’s relationship despite their beliefs. She couldn’t wait to further rebuild the close relationship she had previously shared with them, and she was so grateful she had Vanessa along for the ride.

Tags: #branjie #vanessa Vanjie mateo #brooke Lynn Hytes #lesbian au #tw homophobia #tw racism #starsha

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #vanessa vanjie mateo #brooke lynn hytes #lesbian au #starsha #tw homophobia #tw racism #submission #the ballerina and the b girl #s11 #dance au

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asterythm · 5 years

Text

A is for Amour || Home Again, Home Again (3)

Pairings: Eventual Logicality, eventual Prinxiety Word Count: 6.6k Chapter Summary: Roman lives with his boyfriend most of the time, but comes back to visit his family every other weekend. Of the two houses, only one is home. Chapter Warnings: pain/injury mention, argument mention, food mention, sleeplessness/insomnia, general negative emotions, toxic/abusive relationships (specifically, roman and a character who was originally supposed to be deceit when i first started planning this story way back when. i don't know if monet is really deceit anymore, but if you're not a fan of abusive deceit then i'd say maybe steer clear of this fic just to be on the safe side. <3)

<< First Chapter || < Previous Chapter || Read this chapter on AO3

Roman Foley had to actively restrain himself from slamming his car door as he headed towards the front porch of the house where he’d grown up.

It wasn’t that Roman wasn’t happy to be home; quite the opposite, in fact. There were few things more important to him than his biweekly visits — as anyone who had ever met Roman could confirm, the young man talked about his family very fondly, and very often. (To be fair, the entire Foley family tended to talk very often in general.)

It was because of Monet, you see.

Well, no — that wasn’t entirely true. Granted, Roman’s boyfriend was a large part of the reason that Roman’s teeth were gritted and his fists were clenched, but it wasn’t fair to put all of the blame on the lovely Monet Triche. They had only started arguing earlier that day because of how much Monet cared, and Roman could hardly get upset about having a caring significant other in his life, after all.

Still, it was getting to be absolutely exhausting, having to tell Monet the exact same things over and over and over again every single time he wanted to visit home. It didn’t make sense. Monet knew perfectly well that Roman visited his family every other weekend! He’d been doing so ever since his first year of college, long before he and Monet had met, or fallen in love, or moved in together. Rain or shine, snow or hail, no matter the workload, Roman would always set aside time for the ones who’d raised him.

And rain or shine, snow or hail, no matter how many times Roman had repeated himself, Monet would somehow always take it as a personal attack whenever Roman wanted to spend time with anyone else. It was really getting on Roman’s nerves, having to constantly explain the same things every time the subject came up: It’s only going to be for two days / I just want to spend time with my family / I’ve got a life outside of our relationship, too, you know / No, no, I didn’t mean it like that / I’m not trying to imply that I don’t need you in my life / I just have other things that matter too / Of course, I’m not replacing you / I could never replace you / You’re all I need / Nothing matters to me more than you do…

Sometimes, Roman felt almost like a broken record; stuck in a loop, only capable of repeating variations of the same phrase. He’d tried changing the music, once. The experience had taught him to never try it again. It was so much easier to just stick to what was safe. The truth was, Roman knew that his boyfriend’s anger was simply unavoidable. Rather than wasting his time trying to prevent it, he might as well focus on the next best thing: pacifying Monet as quickly as possible.

To tell the truth, his reasons for wanting to keep Monet happy were a little selfish. Roman just couldn’t stand knowing that someone was mad at him. Especially when the someone in question was as near and dear to Roman’s heart as his boyfriend was. Monet was too kind, too caring, too considerate, too perfect. The idea of upsetting him was positively sickening to Roman.

And yet.

As much as he’d like to pretend that today had only been a fluke, the truth of the matter was that the two of them were fighting. more than ever lately. No matter how hard he tried, Roman was always slipping up, always saying or doing the wrong thing. Throw Roman’s short temper into the mix, and, well… it wasn’t hard to see where all the bickering was coming from.

Had today’s argument been his fault, then? Maybe. Probably. After all, the past two or ten or so had all been his fault. Why not this one too?

Without warning, a stab of pain jarred Roman back into the present. He glanced down to see his hand curled into a fist, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles were turning paper-white. Ouch.

Rubbing at the four little half-moon indents his nails had left, Roman forced all thoughts of Monet out of his head. What’s done is done, he reminded himself. The conversation was done and over with; now he was at last where he was meant to be. Where he wanted to be. Where his mother’s joyful laugh and his father’s steady arms and his brother’s bright eyes lived.

Roman’s keys jingled merrily as he unlocked the front door of his home.

He barely managed to set a foot inside before Patton came flying down the stairs, barrelling right into his chest. Fortunately, Roman had been ready for this — intentional or not, his younger brother always greeted him the same way — so instead of losing his balance, he shut the door behind him and swung Patton around in a tight hug, all in one fluid motion.

“Good to see you too, Pat,” Roman laughed as he gently let his brother down. “I’ve only been gone for two weeks, you know. Like always.”

“Yeah, but that’s two weeks too many! I always miss you so much when you’re on campus. Why can’t you just come back to live with us again?”

An eyebrow went up. “This again? You know exactly why, Patton.”

“Yeah, yeah, the house that you and Mr. Perfect live in is closer to J. M. Stokes College than our place is. It’s just…” Patton sighed. “It’s been so long since you moved out, and I know that means I should probably be used to it by now, but the house still feels so empty all the time without you around! I was just being silly, though. Obviously, I’d never actually ask you to leave Monet. It’s really easy to see how much you two care about each other.”

Easy to see how much we care about each other, huh? Might want to get those glasses checked, little brother.

No sooner than the thought slipped out, Roman stiffened. Where did that come from? He and Monet did care about each other. They were just going through a bit of turbulence, is all. Nothing to worry about.

Nothing that his family needed to know, either; especially with how overprotective his parents could sometimes get, Roman figured it was better to avoid raising unnecessary concerns. He and his boyfriend could work their relationship out on their own.

Roman managed a smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Patton.” He knew even as the words were leaving his mouth that they didn’t sound quite right; something in his voice felt crooked, bent, unnatural. And judging by the way that Patton’s face subtly twisted, his little brother had picked up on it too. Roman’s smile fell away as he started desperately praying that Patton wouldn’t ask about —

“Roman, is there something wrong?”

Shoot. Roman’s mouth opened and closed, opened and closed, as he frantically cast about for an excuse. He came up empty. Shoot, shoot, shoot! Now was not the time to be drawing a blank! It wasn’t like he could just tell Patton that he’d fought with Monet; one thing would lead to another, and then before he knew it his family would be asking him all sorts of hard-to-deflect questions. But what else could he say?

Just as he was starting to panic, two familiar faces appeared from around the corner, and the relief that crashed into him felt almost tangible. “Mom! Dad!” he called out, smiling genuinely this time.

“Good to see you, Roman.” Dot and Larry Foley greeted their eldest boy with a hug (albeit much tamer than the one he had given to Patton a moment ago) before hustling both sons further into the house, tutting about the cold weather and Patton being underdressed and Roman needing to wash his hands. Grateful for the distraction, Roman was more than happy to oblige.

***

Warm water slipped between his fingers, sending heavily-scented suds spiraling down the drain. The small room was completely filled with the smell of bilberry-and-thyme soap he’d been using, so intense that Roman was almost feeling a little lightheaded. His family was still awfully fond of their scented stuff, apparently.

(Oh well, it could be worse. At least they’ve moved on from their floral phase. Roman shuddered, remembering the days when every single toiletry they owned came from this fancy yellow-tulip pack that Patton had adored, but Roman had detested. That phase had lasted his family at least a solid year and a half. As far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a power on Earth that could convince him to go back to that awful time.)

Inspecting his palms, Roman was glad to see that the little crescent marks made by his fingernails had disappeared. He found himself hoping that perhaps he’d been mistaken; perhaps, Patton hadn’t really noticed Roman’s odd behaviour after Monet had been brought up.

It was a foolish hope, of course — Patton’s quick, emotionally-attuned mind could catch even the slightest shift in mood — but that didn’t stop Roman from hoping nonetheless. He just didn’t have the energy to lie to anyone else.

Fortune favours the beautiful , he’d once heard someone say. Looking at his reflection in the mirror, all rich red-brown hair and dark eyes and sharp features, Roman had his fingers crossed that those words might turn out to be true. He’d need all the fortune he could get over the next two days.

***

“So how’s Into the Woods going?” Dot asked as soon as the four of them sat down for dinner. It had already been a few weeks since rehearsals had begun, but his mother and father were still just as excited about the production as they had been way back when Roman was first cast as Cinderella’s Prince.

Roman answered her between bites. Rehearsals had been going fantastically well. In fact, only a few days ago, Roman became the first and only actor to be off-book. The young lady directing their musical production had been very pleased at his dedication — a fact that she didn’t hesitate to make clear. She had held Roman up as an example to the rest of the actors, saying that the others all ought to be off-book as soon as he was. He’d pretended to be embarrassed, of course, but really he’d been having a blast gobbling up all of the praise.

What had been less fun was when his director decided that, since Roman was off-book, she was going to take away his script entirely until the show was over. This information had not sat well with the rest of the cast, who weren’t exactly keen on the promise of seeing their scripts disappear into the director’s Black Backpack of Doom (as they all fondly referred to it) as well.

“It took me a dozen donuts to convince her to give it back,” Roman finished. As his family laughed, he felt himself starting to relax a little bit. “That reminds me of something that happened just the other day, in fact. At the end of one of our recent rehearsals, our Baker came up to me and said...”

Gesturing animatedly, Roman began a new story. And then another one, and another, and another. He talked about missed cues and flubbed lines and wet paint and high notes, about anything and everything he could come up with.

Truthfully, though it may have seemed like Roman was only babbling on because of how much he loved the sound of his own voice, there was more to it this time. He was only telling so many stories in a desperate attempt to keep his family interested in the topic at hand. The last thing he wanted was for them to get bored and switch to something else (read: Monet).

As Roman finished talking about a dance number gone wrong, he could feel his mind racing, struggling to come up with something else to say. His plate was almost empty. He only needed one more anecdote to see him through to the end of the meal. But nothing was coming to mind. Think, Roman, think!

Larry Foley cleared his throat, leaning forward. At the sound, Roman’s heart sank into his shoes. That was a sure sign that his father was about to change the subject.

He had to say something. As a last-ditch attempt, Roman turned to address his brother. “So — uh — Patton — how was your first week back at school? You missing the winter break yet?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Roman could see his father slowly settling back. He breathed a silent sigh of relief. Safe.

Meanwhile, Patton poked at his food, refusing to meet Roman’s eyes as he replied. “About as bad as you’d think. Turns out, a couple weeks away from Mr. Mitchell wasn’t enough to get him to get off of my back a little bit.”

Roman made a face. “Dragon Witchell still getting you down?”

“Yeah, but it’s whatever. Same old same old. I’m pretty much used to it by now.”

“Oh! That reminds me!” their mother chimed in.“Patton just had his first tutoring session yesterday!”

Roman perked up. “Oh, that’s marvelous news! How come you didn’t tell me that you were starting tutoring, Pat?”

“Didn’t want to bug you,” Patton shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

“But really, how has that been going for you, Pat?” said their father. “You didn’t give your old man to many details yesterday, you know.”

“Just gave us the whole leave me alone, I’ve got homework due tomorrow speech and bolted.” their mother explained to Roman. “You know the one. You used it more than a few times yourself when you were in high school. Anyway, we left him alone since we knew that you’d be able to get all the juicy gossip out of him today.”

Roman didn’t know what to say to that. On one hand, he didn’t want to pressure his brother into sharing details if Patton wasn’t ready yet. On the other… he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a little curious.

Luckily, he ended up not needing to say anything at all. Patton spoke up instead. “First of all, quit saying things like juicy gossip, mom. It doesn’t actually make you sound cool. You have got to stop listening to everything your students tell you. Second, the reason I didn’t tell you anything is because there’s really nothing to tell. The session went exactly the way we were expecting; I showed up at the library, the guy introduced himself and asked me a couple of questions, I left. Just like I already told you — I got to meet the guy who’s going to make me smarter, and that’s it.”

Their mother gave Patton a stern look. He flinched.

“Sorry. Um, I got to meet the guy who’s going to fix my marks. Is that better?”

Apparently not. Dot wasn’t satisfied yet. “That’s not the point of these sessions, Patton. He’s not ‘going to fix your marks’, or fix you, or anything . Your tutor — what was his name again, Larry?”

“Logan Berry,” their father supplied.

“Right, thank you — your tutor Logan is just going to work through your homework with you and sometimes give you some questions to solve. It’s really just extra review for what you’re covering in class. Nothing about you needs to be fixed , all right?”

“Okay. Yeah. You got it.” With that, Patton hurriedly shoved his last forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, then got to his feet before he was even finished chewing. The wooden legs of his chair scraped loudly against the ground. They all cringed in unison.

“Patton!”

“Sorry, mom!” Swallowing, Patton grabbed his plate to carry it over to their kitchen sink. “Did you want me to wash the dishes today?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yes, thank you, love.” Roman’s mother lowered her voice and leaned in conspiratorially, muttering across the table to her older son. “I just know there’s something he’s not telling us. And if anyone can figure out what that something is, it’s you.”

“I can still hear you, mom!” called Patton from the other room, with a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“No, you can’t, sweetie.”

Patton’s only response was to turn the kitchen tap on at full blast, very conveniently drowning out the conversation between Roman and his mother.

Despite the loud water, though, Roman never was one to pass up an opportunity to put on a performance. Matching his mother’s dramatics gesture for gesture, he glanced exaggeratedly around him before replying in an equally hushed stage whisper. “I mean, I’m curious too, mom, but I don’t think that Patton could be hiding anything important. They’ve only just started, haven’t they? What secrets could he possibly be keeping? So, as flattered as I am that you have this much faith in my — admittedly impressive — detective skills… I think that if he doesn’t want to talk about it, we ought to respect that choice.”

Dot sighed dramatically. “You’re right. Goodness gracious, why do you have to be so mature, Roman, really? You’re making your mother look bad!”

Swallowing his last bite of dinner, Roman grinned. “You could never look bad, mom. I promise you, you’re the most beautiful woman I will ever know. Beyonce’s got nothing on you.” He punctuated his statement by grabbing his now-empty plate and getting up to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Roman, you stop that!” laughed his mother, giving him a good-natured shove. “Oh, you’re just so darn cute , I can’t handle it. Go help your brother with the dishes.”

“Sorry, I just can’t help it. My natural charm waits for no one , ” Roman joked in response before obediently turning away. With his back to his mother, Roman waited until he was nearly into the kitchen before finally allowing himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

I made it! he cheered silently, a smile stretching from cheek to rosy cheek. Dinner’s over, and not once did anyone mention —

“Yes, well, save that charm for your boyfriend, why don’t you?”

…Monet.

Roman forced his feet to keep moving, praying that his mother wouldn’t notice the way that his shoulders immediately tensed up.

***

2:06 am. 2:07 am. 2:08 am.

Roman lay still, staring at the blinking numbers on his bedside clock. He’d tried everything he could think of to fall asleep, but a nice cup of calming tea, a warm shower, and at least fifty-six quadrillion tosses and turns later, his eyelids were still refusing to grow heavy.

Try as he might, he couldn’t get his boyfriend’s disappointed face out of his mind.

The fact was that their argument from earlier was still weighing heavily on him. But something wasn’t adding up. For one, who was he even mad at? For most of the day, he’d thought the answer was obvious — Monet, of course. Now he wasn’t so sure.

With every second that ticked by, it became clearer and clearer that Roman wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. If that was the case, he might as well try to work apart this tangled knot that was growing in his mind.

Roman began by asking himself a simple question, figuring he could work his way up to answering some harder ones once he’d laid down a foundation of facts. Silently, his lips formed words: how are you feeling?

That was easy. Angry. No, guilty. No, bitter. No, jealous. No, confused. No —

Perhaps this question wasn’t as easy as he’d thought.

Roman lay in the dark, struggling to figure out the right word to describe how he was feeling. Nothing was coming to him. Why was this so difficult?

He pondered. By his head, numbers blinked. Slowly, gently, Roman blinked too.

***

Roman’s bedroom window was ablaze.

Delicate fingers of frost curled across the glass, illuminated by golden ribbons of sun. Millions of tiny rainbows were scattered across his carpet, a dazzling light show the result of the sun hitting the window just right. The vision was breathtaking, otherworldly...

And entirely unwelcome.

Rubbing at his bleary eyes, Roman wondered, not for the first time, why he always seemed to wake up just when the sun was at its brightest.

Oh, well. At least he was awake. He wasn’t completely sure at what time he’d fallen asleep last night, but even it had only been for an hour or so, the short rest had worked wonders.

Surrendering to the bright sunlight, Roman rose out of bed with a yawn and luxuriating stretch. He had to admit that things seemed a lot better in the morning. Today, he decided, I’m just going to forget about Monet. I can figure out what I’m going to do about him when I get back to campus in the evening. I only get to see my family every other week — there’s no way I’m spending the entire visit too caught up in my own life to enjoy the limited time I have in theirs.

The unmistakable smell of bacon frying greeted him as he made his way down the stairs, pulling his shirt on as he went. Roman inhaled deeply. When he let his breath back out again, he could feel the last traces of negativity from the night before escaping with it. It was impossible to be upset with bacon on the grill.

“Good morning, world!” he sang out — literally — as he turned into the kitchen, making a show of closing his eyes and wafting his hand under his nose. “Mmm. That smells downright delectable, dad.”

“Breaking out the alliteration already, are we? Someone’s in a good mood today,” said his father, giving him an affectionate pat on the back. Loading a plate with a few pieces of bacon plus a slice of toast, Roman turned to make his way towards the wooden table, where his brother was already halfway through a slice of his own. (His mother was still asleep, of course; she never got up before noon if she could help it.)

“Morning, Roman!” Patton said around a mouthful of breakfast. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

It took a second for Roman to realize the full implications of his brother’s words. He froze.

Briefly. Then, he remembered his morning resolution — no worrying allowed, least of all about Monet. Holding tightly to that thought, Roman started to move again. As he reached for a jar of Crofter’s, he asked, as nonchalantly as possible: “Why, whatever do you mean?” The Crofter’s kept evading his fingers, just barely out of reach.

His brother passed him the jar. “Well, it seemed like something was getting you down yesterday, but I didn’t wanna ask. Sorry, should I have not brought this up?”

Gesturing with the spoon he was using to spread jam, Roman breezily waved off his brother’s concerns. “Never fear, Patton, I’ve just been stressed out of my mind about schoolwork lately. Have I told you yet about the colossal paper I need to write for Theatre History 201?” When a shake of Patton’s head indicated that he hadn’t, Roman launched into an explanation about the difficult assignment, playing it up to be the only thing that had caused his strange behaviour yesterday.

Their father sat down next to them about midway through Roman’s spiel, coffee in one hand and newspaper in the other. “Sounds stressful,” he commented once Roman was finished, before promptly adding, “but I’m sure you’ll do perfect, as always. I wouldn’t expect my clever boy to ever settle for anything less.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Roman replied, chewing. “But I can’t help but worry all the same. It’s an important paper.”

“Don’t be silly, Roman. I know you. You have nothing to worry about.” Roman couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the finality of the words — what if his father was wrong, and Roman ended up letting him down?

That said… it was true that Roman had a history of perfect scores. His father was probably right; important or not, this paper would become nothing more than another item to add to that list, in the end.

“Thanks, dad.”

“Anytime, pal.” Satisfied, Larry Foley stood with a yawn, peering into his now-empty coffee mug before heading back into the kitchen, presumably to fill it back up again. Roman didn’t miss the meaningful look that their father threw at Patton on his way out, though the meaning was lost on Roman.

Patton seemed to understand it well enough, however.

Roman noted his brother’s angled eyebrows, drooping shoulders, pursed lips. Being an actor had its perks; for one, the subtleties of body language hardly seemed subtle at all to Roman’s trained eyes. But at the moment, he couldn’t help but wish away that particular skill. Watching Patton get sad was like watching a puppy cry. And oh, Roman did not want to think about puppies crying.

He hastened to change the subject before he could be attacked by any more distressing dog visuals. Roman waited until his father was completely out of the room, then spoke quietly. “Patton, I told mom last night to leave you be, but I have to admit I’m still curious about the whole tutoring thing. I mean, maybe there’s nothing to talk about in terms of the whole boring words-and-numbers-and-teaching part, but… how are you liking the actual person tutoring you? I think mom said his name is Logan, right?” His brother’s face changed, almost imperceptibly, at the mention of his tutor’s name. Aha! Encouraged by this apparent success, Roman pushed on. “Don’t get me wrong, I completely get it if, for any reason at all, you’d rather not talk about that guy right now. But I know you, Pat, and I know when you’re hiding something. If you so choose to share that something with me, I promise you I won’t tell anyone else.” He grinned. “Prince’s honour.”

Patton hesitated, and Roman could see the cogs turning behind his brother’s eyes. He held his breath.

Then, at last: “Roman, it’s… it’s nothing serious, honestly. I think you’re making this whole thing a lot more intense and dramatic than it needs to be.” Patton huffed out a breathy half-laugh. “I just didn’t really want to say this in front of mom and dad, but the truth is —”

“Hey, I’m gonna stop you right there.” Roman’s gaze slid from Patton’s face to the doorway behind Patton, where their father stood, newspaper comically close to his face and coffee mug nowhere in sight. “Dad, for all the directing work you do, you’d think that you would have picked up at least some acting skills by now. You’re trying way too hard to pretend that you’re not listening.”

Larry lowered his newspaper, flustered, trying (and miserably failing) to paste an innocent expression onto his face. “What? I’m — I’m not eavesdropping! I’m just waiting for the coffee to finish brewing!”

“You had a completely full carafe when I came downstairs twenty minutes ago and you’ve only had one mug of coffee since then,” replied Roman. He adopted a thick British accent. “ Elementary, my dear dad.”

“Alright, fine.” Recognizing that he had been defeated, their father was forced to give up. “Sorry, kiddos. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

As their father retreated back into the kitchen — for real this time — Patton couldn’t help but giggle at the good-natured banter. Roman was grateful to see how much more relaxed his brother seemed now. He pushed his plate aside to rest his elbows on the table. “Okay, so my interest is piqued. Lay it on me, Pat.” An almost-wicked smile suddenly split across his face. “I want to hear all the juicy gossip you can spare.”

Patton drew in a deep breath. Opened his mouth, closed it again, stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth to stall for time. Roman waited patiently.

Then, swallowing hard, Patton finally managed to squeak out, “Logan is, um… he’s kinda cute . ”

“Oh?” Roman’s eyebrows raised. “Kinda cute , is he now?”

“Yeah. I mean, no, he’s really cute. I was expecting some grumpy guy in a hoodie or something! Not someone like Logan. ” Patton didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. “Like, tall, handsome, with swoopy hair and shiny eyes that I could swim in. The whole package.” One fluttered uncertainly at his chest while the other ran through his hair, almost exasperated. “He — he wore a tie to our first meeting!”

By the time he was finished speaking, Roman’s eyes were alight with a shine that could rival even the brightest of gems, and his teasing tones were just as bright. “Sounds like someone’s got a crush. Never fear, you’re looking at the best wingman the world has ever seen. You need me to play matchmaker? I’ll put Cupid to shame, just you wait!”

But Patton shook his head. “No! Stop it! He’s way out of my league. And besides, even if he wasn’t… after all the rambling I did last night, I’m surprised he’s even letting me come back next week.” He pretended to fiddle with his glasses in an effort to hide his blush. (It didn’t work.) “I got, um, really nervous when I saw him, and you know what happens when I get nervous. He literally had to give me a five-minute speech about how desperately I needed to shut up.” Patton chuckled, until he realized his brother wasn’t chuckling with him. “Seriously, it’s okay! I wasn’t exactly going to tutoring so I could make ou — uh, friends. So I could make friends. I’m just there to learn, and he seems like he’s going to be a really awesome teacher. Please, don’t be worried.”

Though Roman still wasn’t convinced, he knew how to take a hint. His brother was through with the subject. Reluctantly, he said, “Well, I guess if your mind's made up, then… that’s that. But Patton, I’m sure that this whole situation isn’t as bad as you think. No one could ever not like you. It’s impossible.”

“Well, what about Mr. Mitchell? He hates me.”

“No one whose opinion is actually valid ,” Roman amended without missing a beat. “Dragon Witchell is nothing but a massive jerk. He doesn’t count.”

“Roman, you can’t say that! That’s not nice!” The words probably would have been more convincing if Patton hadn’t been laughing while he said them.

“That doesn’t make it any less true!” The tension from earlier quickly disappearing, Roman found himself able to breathe easy again now that the great crying puppy threat of 2019 had been averted. Sitting on either side of their familiar table, wood worn smooth from years of love, Roman and his brother were for a moment completely at peace as they laughed and joked about school — about work — and about everything in between.

***

The rest of the day came and went much faster than Roman anticipated. He and Patton had gone their separate ways not too long after breakfast was over, him retreating into his room while Patton settled himself down at the small desk near their house’s front door. He’d been keeping himself busy since then, only venturing out of his room every so often to grab a snack or use the washroom. Then, all too soon, his curtains were drawn and he was reaching to turn on his desk lamp. It seemed almost like he’d only managed a breath or two before the sky was suddenly painted over with shades of inky black.

Roman’s laptop slid into its bedazzled sleeve. His clothes, neatly folded, went into his bag, which was then slung over his shoulder as he made his way downstairs. “I’m heading back now, okay?”

Patton immediately abandoned his worksheet to run over and give his older brother a hug. “Bye, Roman!” he said. Roman gave him a quick but firm squeeze.

“See you soon, love,” called his mother from the dining room, where she and her husband were engaged in an intense battle of cards. “Go Fish, Larry. Ha! Take that!”

Smiling fondly, Roman stepped outside.

The door swung shut behind him with a soft click. The instant he heard that sound, he could feel his whole body deflate.

Frankly, he wasn’t quite ready to go back to the house that he and Monet shared.

It’s not even that I’m still mad at him, reflected Roman as he settled into his black car. He turned the key and it sputtered to life. Somehow, the sound was at once familiar and foreign. This car used to belong to his parents. It was even older than Roman himself. It should feel anything but foreign.

And yet, things always looked so different from the driver’s seat.

But then the speakers came on — Best of Broadway; Vol. 3 — and everything was alright again. Coasting on down the familiar streets of Sandford, fingers drumming out a beat on the steering wheel, Roman finally let his mind wander free.

I’m just…

He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d figured it out, but somewhere between learning about Patton’s crush-that-was-not-a-crush and finishing up neglected schoolwork, Roman had realized that Monet had never been to blame for their argument. It was hardly a bad thing that Monet wanted to spend as much time as possible by his side. Roman had overreacted, plain and simple.

And therein was where the problem lay. This time, Roman was the one at fault; he should have spent the weekend figuring out how he would apologize. But instead, he’d been moping about, feeling sorry for himself, distracting himself with idle tasks, all to avoid thinking about the person who cared about him perhaps more than anyone else in the world.

I’m just ashamed of how I handled everything.

With every second that ticked past, Roman grew more and more restless. He was slowly but surely getting closer to the very same house he’d angrily stormed out of two days ago, meaning he was getting closer and closer to having to face the man he’d hurt. He didn’t mind needing to swallow his pride and apologise; that had never been a problem. No, the gnawing in his chest was from the worry that his apology might not be accepted.

The further he drove, the more restless Roman grew. Saying sorry never did get easier. Not for a lack of trying — no matter how proud Roman could sometimes be, he could handle letting go of his ego if it meant holding onto his boyfriend — but because what worked one day might completely backfire the next. Too many times, a sincere apology had ended up being taken for an excuse, which of course only made things worse.

By the time Roman pulled into the driveway of the very same house he'd stormed out of two days ago, he was already rehearsing various apologies in his head. He imagined how Monet might react if he said this, if he did that... It took some time, but the mental preparation did help. A deep breath in and out, and then Roman was ready.

The door and his mouth opened at the same time, a plea already perched on the tip of his tongue. The words never got any further. When Roman entered the house, he was greeted not with an angry face, not with a stony silence, but with the sound of Monet’s laugh and the babble of their television set.

“Monet?”

The man in question turned at the sound of his name, arm slung lazily over the back of the couch. Completely at ease. “Oh! Hey there, Ro, good to see you! Did your family visit go okay?” His tone was casual, lighthearted, warm, without even a hint of accusation.

Roman blinked. “I — er — yeah, it was fine, but —"

“Glad to hear it,” Monet interrupted before Roman had the chance to voice his confusion. “Welcome home.”

Something about the way Monet said the word home seemed a little stiff, but Roman didn’t linger on it; there was a much more important question at hand. “Are you not… angry?”

“What?” Monet looked puzzled. “Why would I be angry? Did something happen?”

No way. “You know, the argu…” Roman started to explain on autopilot, but cut himself off. If Monet had already forgotten about the argument, then he saw no reason to bring it up again. “You know what, never mind,” he finished, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

But Monet wasn’t fooled. “Roman, tell me what’s going on. Why do you look so unhappy?”

“It’s really not a big deal —”

“Roman.”

Monet’s voice was suddenly hard as steel.

“Tell me.”

It wasn’t an invitation. It was a command, and Roman had no choice but to obey.

“...The argument we had. Right before I left on Saturday. I kept blaming you, but the problem wasn’t you, it was me. I was just too stubborn to admit it. I thought you’d still be upset at me for that. You’re… not?”

To Roman’s surprise, his boyfriend laughed.

“You can’t seriously think I’m still angry over that little spat. I would never let something so small ruin what we have. Don’t you know we’re stronger than that?” Monet’s expression changed just then, darkening as something new occurred to him. “Unless… Roman, you’re not still upset at me.”

“What? No!” Roman cried. “Not at all, I don’t — I’m not upset, Monet, I’m relieved. I spent the entire weekend worrying that you were mad at me!”

“There’s nothing to be mad about, Ro. We’re fine. Seriously, forget Saturday ever happened.” Monet gestured towards the television with his head. “Come on, it’s about time we finished off the last bag of popcorn anyway; it’s just been gathering dust sitting all alone in the cupboard. Let’s watch some TV together, okay? I’ll even let you choose the show.”

Overwhelmed with gratefulness, Roman could barely squeak out an “okay” before nearly tripping over his own two feet on his way to the kitchen cupboard. Forgiven and forgotten, just like that. He couldn’t believe how easy that had been.

He should have seen this coming. Sure, his boyfriend could get a little passionate now and then, but most of the time Monet was a real sweetheart. It was just like his boyfriend to have already given him forgiveness before he even thought to ask for it.

I don’t deserve him, thought Roman, watching the bag of popcorn slowly spinning around through the dimly lit microwave window. While he had been busily shifting blame and letting feelings fester, Monet had dismissed their petty little shouting match as soon as it was over. Had it even been a shouting match at all? Maybe he only remembered it as one because he had been shouting. He could have sworn that Monet had gotten angry too, but in the heat of the moment, his judgement could so easily have been clouded. He’d have to be careful not to let his temper get the better of him next time.

Though something uneasy and uncertain lingered in the back of his mind, the beep of the microwave distracted him from focusing on it too much. Whatever was bothering him, he was sure it was nothing a couple of handfuls of popcorn and some bad sitcoms couldn’t fix.

***

[next chapter]

A/N: okay, i know, i know it’s late, but i swear to you i have been doing absolutely everything in my power to finish editing this darn thing. it's been an insanely busy week, please forgive me for publishing late again :00 hopefully you enjoyed the chapter anwyays!! and as always, thank you so much for reading.

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#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw deceit #tw abusive deceit #tw pain mention #tw injury mention #tw food mention #tw argument mention #tw sleeplessness #tw insomnia #tw negativity #tw toxic relationship #tw abusive relationship #spec made something #spectral scribbles

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