#i was just innocently going through ao3 trying to find some nice friendship fics
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#i was just innocently going through ao3 trying to find some nice friendship fics#i excluded anti / character bashing tags#AND STILL#like sure not all random female love interests are written super well#but that doesn't mean you have to turn them into stalking attempting murder nutcases to justify your mlm ship sjdflkhsdf;hasdkfh;sf#ana flores#taylor kelly#abby clark#natalia dollenmeyer#chrissy cunningham#kira yukimura#malia hale#Braeden teen wolf#lydia martin#rey star wars#sharon carter#guinevere#tropes#female love interests#911#stranger things#teen wolf#merlin#star wars
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Total Drama: Destination Stardom
Fandom: Total Drama series
Chapter: 1/?
Chapter Word Count: Roughly 20,000 (yeah, you read that right)
Can also be read on AO3 and FFN
Summary:
30 competitors. 3 teams. $5 million dollars on the line.
Who of our returning cast members will walk away with a sizeable fortune? Will it be from Gen 1? Gen 2? Gen 3? Or one of the few from The Ridonculous Race? Will friendships be tested? Will anyone fall in love? Will any lovers bite the dust? And will Chris McLean stop asking all these pretentious questions?
Find out the answers to all of these, plus more twists and surprises here, on Total Drama: Destination Stardom!
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A/N:
Hey, all! I'm back! If you're new, nice to have you here.
This is my first Total Drama fic, though not the first one I've planned. Although, once I'd gone on a bit of a deep dive back through the series and fanworks, this one came to my mind. A mix of old ideas (from coming up to 6 years ago) with a blend of new ones.
Couple of short things to address before we kick off. Firstly, I haven't seen the reboot yet, so there's going to be very little reference to it. I am aware that they do address some timeline and there's some weirdness around that, but that'll be mentioned right out of the gate.
Secondly, I don't have things particularly set in stone just yet. I have an idea of when people will get eliminated, but things can be moved around depending on how I'm feeling at the point of writing and how things end up linking together. Why is this important? Well, it means that things aren't set in stone until they're posted, so there could be every chance for a surprise. If nothing else, I do aim to make it all work logically and make sense, so don't think I'm just going to pull some nonsense out of nowhere. It also means that there's no set schedule for uploads. I'll try to get things out as quickly as I can, but I make no promises.
Finally, because it does link in, I am more than happy for you to make suggestions or predictions or anything like that, whether that be for challenges, eliminations, commercials (yep, I'm writing those), alliances, relationships, etc. If I do end up using your idea (and it wasn't one I was already cooking up) then I'll be sure to extend credit where it's due.
Now, without further ado, let's get on with it!
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Chapter 1 - Wish Upon These Falling Stars
The camera opens up on a choppy mountainous island vaguely similar in look to those that have previously hosted Total Drama competitions, but not matching – a legally distinct island.
“After two successful seasons featuring a brand new cast, we at Total Drama knew that all you rabid, loyal fans would be starving for any glimpse of our former contestants."
From out of shot, one Chris McLean jumps into view, his iconic look having been maintained with no signs of Slowtox in sight.
“So we, meaning I,” he innocently points to his own chest, before bringing his hands together as his eyebrows furrow heavily, “thought what better time to bring back some of our former competitors – along with some new surprises – to duke it out for a massive cash prize.”
An image of a closed briefcase before a revolving golden background is shown as Chris' voice continues, “They will be competing for not one, not two, but …”
The briefcase opens, showing a massive amount of green notes that spill forth from the metallic confines, with some landing outside the briefcase.
“Five! Million! Dollars!”
An angelic chorus sounds out at the reveal, before the shot snaps back to the case in Chris' hands as he stands on a wooden dock, a couple of interns dressed in plaid crimson shirts crawling at his feet to retrieve the fallen notes.
“Who will snap under the stress?” Chris asks, dropping the heavy case onto one of the interns with a solid thud as the host flexes. “Will friendships be shattered?”
Straightening back up, he reaches down off camera to retrieve the now closed briefcase, holding it up as the priceless prize that it is.
“And who is willing to risk it all for what could be their last shot at fame and fortune?”
The intern initially crushed by the heavy cash-filled briefcase shakily limps back up into shot before Chris drops the briefcase on top of them again, both disappearing off-screen as the host points to the camera.
“Well, you'd better stay tuned to find out here, on …”
The image jolts back to a view of Chris standing on the dock with arms wide open, one intern crushed under the briefcase while the other is slowly crawling to pick up the remaining fallen notes.
“Total!”
The image jolts back even further, showing a more zoomed out view of the dock and the island beyond.
“Drama!”
The final shot jumps out to the initial view of the entire island from afar as before.
“Destination Stardom!”
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Opening Sequence
Two production lights swing into shot in two quick cuts, before a third cut as a camera pops up from a hole in the ground. A fourth and final cut shows a second camera shooting out of a tree burrow with the edges of a bird's nest poking out, startling the two squirrels chittering on the branch and pushing out a three-eyed blue bird from its nest.
A clapboard snaps shut as the view changes to a wide shot of the main camp area; including the main lodge and the three cabins. One of the cabins looks just like the old musty rickety shacks of Wawanakwa past, the second is a rather beautifully crafted log cabin, while the third is far more luxurious akin to the reward cabin from All-Stars.
“Dear Mom and Dad I'm doing fine,”
The view quickly darts through the campground, catching Chris sitting on the top floor balcony reading a newspaper with a mug of coffee in his hand.
“You guys are on my mind.”
Zipping away from the facilities, a sky shot shoots up the sharp forested rise before panning round and plunging down the cliff, catching three rings set up in floats of green, yellow and red respectively in the lake below before diving beneath the water.
“You asked me what I wanted to be,”
In a rush of bubbles, the view shows Scott swimming off to the right before freezing up and letting out a silent scream as a rush of bubbles billows out. The dirt farmer quickly scampers to the top left of screen as the mutated shark Fang chases after him with a toothy grin.
“and now I think the answer is plain to see,”
Surfacing, Shawn and Jasmine are paddling a canoe out on the lake when Scott jostles their craft in his panicked swim. With Fang's arrival swiftly afterwards, Shawn jumps back while Jasmine stands up and smacks the mutant shark away with her oar. Both their sudden movements help further unbalance the canoe as it capsizes, taking the couple with it.
“I wanna be famous!”
As they tumble into the lake, B zooms by overhead wearing his own makeshift jetpack. As the silent genius rises up into the clear sky, some sort of projectile slams into him and makes him careen into the ground with a big rumble. He pushes up from his wreck and glares over at the smirking Scarlett, standing besides her own launching contraption looking a little like a small trebuchet tapping a wrench against her crossed arms.
“I wanna live close to the sun,”
The shot shifts away to Amy and Sammy riding in an inflatable raft down a river, being carried along by the water flow. The evil twin is facing away from the current yelling at Sammy through a megaphone as the nice twin looks quite resigned as she paddles them along as well. Neither cheerleader notices the waterfall coming up until too late as they tumble over the top.
“Go pack your bags, 'cause I've already won.”
Underneath, Alejandro walks across a thick log spanning the length of the valley as he glances up, before reaching out and catching the falling twins. Amy squeals and snuggles up to the Latino, before kicking Sammy out of his other hand, the nice twin barely managing to cling to the log.
“Everything to prove, nothing in my way,”
From out of shot, Sierra comes swinging by on a vine, one hand up to her forehead as she searches round in the opposite direction she's swinging before suddenly slamming into the outhouse confessional, causing Cody to spill out. Cody dusts himself off before looking back in horror as the giggling Sierra staggers round the outhouse, before dashing off as the super-fan stalker chases after him with arms stretched out ready to grab him up, the two running past the main lodge.
“I'll get there one day.”
The camera slides in through the dining hall window, showing DJ at the stove looking extremely pleased as he takes a deep whiff of the soup he's brewed, only to flinch back as Chef barrels his brew off the hob with his own gurgling sickly broth, glancing back at Cameron, Jay and Mickey all sat in the dining hall. Cameron flinches while the Adversity Twins seize up, Mickey falling off his seat from his shuddering.
“'Cause, I wanna be famous!”
Next to the scrawny horrified boys, Eva and Jo are using the dining bench to arm wrestle one another, with Noah glancing up from his book monitoring the bout. Both competitive women quickly throw their other hands into the fray, still unable to win the match as they push with all their might. Both Jo and Eva grit their teeth and growl at one another, while Noah's eyes widen as he glances between the two.
“Na na na na na na, na na na na na, na na na na!”
Coming out of the dining area, Jacques is laying down on the sand sunbathing before Lightning runs into shot ahead of Sky. The two run over the Olympian before Sky vaults up onto Lightning's shoulders and flips forwards, gaining the lead while Lightning looks wide eyed. Jacques glares at the two.
A hand reaches over and drags the camera over to show Dakota as she gives the lens a kiss, smearing her lipstick as she does. The cameraman wipes the lens down as Dakota steps back, leaving her to pose again and again with Jen and Justin, Jen in the middle of the two.
“I wanna be, I wanna be, I wanna be famous!"
With each “I wanna be”, a vengeful Sugar dumps a bucket of rotten fish onto Dakota and Justin respectively. As the two models cower in anguish, Jen is spared from the third bucket as an umbrella pops up to shield her from the sickening mixture, with Brick having jumped in to protect her.
“I wanna be, I wanna be,”
The fashionista smiles and grabs the umbrella, holding it aloft and twirling before she leans up against the now blushing cadet, one arm rubbing the back of his neck as he gives a sheepish smile. Jen tosses the umbrella up into the air as the camera follows, catching it flipping round following the shape of the sun before the blue sky fades to night in time with the umbrella falling, a full moon taking the place of the sun in the sky.
“I wanna be famous!”
As day falls to night, the glowing embers of the campfire float up as the camera pans down to Duncan on the left of screen, Courtney and Gwen on the right, and Dawn placed between. All bar Dawn glares at the other side as the moonchild's turns between the three, placing her hand on Duncan's shoulder. Suddenly Chris jumps up between the four with arms raised and a massive toothy smile, while the other contestants sit round the fire whistling the end of the tune.
----------
The camera cuts back to Chris standing on the docks, with no sign of the interns or the cash prize in sight.
“Welcome back to Total Drama Destination Stardom! Set here, on the Starfall Archipelago,” Chris states, holding his arms wide open. “It contains the usual commodities of old; same disgusting cabins ...”
The interior of one of the cabins is shown, showing off the rickety wooden floor, the scratchy rough sheets atop the wobbly bunk beds, stains on the windows at the far end, and cobwebs spun in the corners of the room. As a mouse crawls across the floor, Chris continues to speak off off-screen.
“Same reeking outhouse confessional …”
The view cuts to the familiar confines of the outhouse confessional, with the mouldy seat top flipped open and flies hovering around the disgustingly visible green odour emanating from the loo. The view suddenly blurs as a purple haze is all that's caught by the opening door, before revealing a sasquatchanakwa crammed into the confessional moving to sit down on the toilet and opening up a newspaper.
“Same ruthless wildlife.”
The sasquatchanakwa is now shown walking across the campground, a rolled up newspaper tucked in under its arm and a takeaway cup of coffee in its hand. The camera pans with it, till Chris comes back into shot. The camera on Chris, while the sasquatchanakwa keeps walking away.
“Plus a few new surprises.”
A loud bellowing roar sounds out in the background, shaking the camera and seemingly the very island itself. Chris glances over his shoulder and laughs, before turning back to the camera.
“Got them shipped in special,” the host points his thumb over his shoulder with a chuckle, before clapping his hands together. “But, more on that later. I'm sure you all just want to see who will be competing for our grand prize.”
Chris walks back out onto the docks, moving up to the edge.
“Well, as the old saying goes, 'age before beauty'. So without further ado, let's introduce our first generation victi- I mean, campers.”
As Chris chuckles, a white boat sails by the docks, stopping ever so briefly as a couple of grunts are heard off shot, with the camera focusing in on Chris' celebrity mug.
“First up, giant animal lover and full-time momma's boy, it's DJ!”
DJ picks himself up and walks up to Chris. While he's still dressed in an outfit nearly identical to the one he's known on the show for, DJ himself has gotten a bit bigger. His muscular bulk fills out his shirt even more, while his skull-cap has gone in favour for showing off the tuft of hair curling round the top of his head.
“Hey, man, did we really need to be thrown off the boat?” he asks, rubbing his back.
“Did you really need to ask that?”
DJ slumps a little at that. “I guess not.”
Chris smiles and looks beyond DJ. “Next up, the perennial snarker and lousiest assistant in showbiz, it's Noah!”
The snarker in question comes into view, not only with his iconic outfit but also not really showing any signs that the years have physically changed him.
“Nice to see your material's as outdated as your films, McLean,” he quips as he walks on by, getting a glare from the host.
[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]
“Seriously? I only took that dumb job to try and get an entry into the business,” Noah grumbles, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “That maniac is easily the worst boss I've ever had to work for.”
The snarker sighs as he slumps back in the confessional, before giving a deadpan look to the camera.
“I'd rather take a deal with the devil.”
[Confessional Ends]
“Next, looking to strike gold after crashing and burning in just one season, it's Eva!”
Eva stomps across the dock completely straight faced and radiating her intensity, making the softhearted DJ shrink back while Noah just raises an eyebrow. Appearance-wise, other than her gained muscular bulk, Eva's ponytail has gone as the stunt woman now opts for a spiky pixie cut.
“Well, Eva, what do you think? Think you'll make it any further this time round without us bringing you back?”
DJ lets out a little whimper and shrinks back even further. Eva just gives a small grunt and walks by Chris without giving him an answer.
“Ooo-kay …” Chris stretches out awkwardly before recomposing himself. “Anyway, here's our next competitor! Our first season runner-up, and stealer of boyfriends, it's Gwen!”
Similarly to Eva, the goth stomps her way across the dock up to Chris. In the few years that have passed, Gwen has grown her multi-coloured hair out letting it brush past her shoulders with a slight wave. In addition, she now has on a couple of striped arm sleeves matching her colour scheme that cover most of her forearms, along with a dark moss green skirt that sits over her shorts, the back studded belt holding it up sitting at a slant.
“Is that really all you have, Chris?” she presses, getting a shrug back.
“Pretty much.”
“Fine. Whatever,” she huffs as she stomps off. “If it wasn't for this stupid contract, I wouldn't even be here.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]
“Seriously?!” Gwen growls as she kicks the side of the outhouse. “Four seasons on this life sucking show and that's still all I'm known for?! I'm not even dating Duncan anymore!”
She puts her head in her hands and draws out a long sigh, before finally looking back up.
“At least he managed to mention me being a runner-up …”
[Confessional Ends]
Chris watches her stomp off with a smirk. “And speaking of contracts …”
Gwen comes to a sudden stop as her eyes go wide. “Oh no!”
“A former CIT with a gaggle of bloodsucking lawyers at her beck and call, welcome back Courtney!”
Courtney steps up to Chris with her arms crossed as the boat she arrives in sails off. Her beautiful brown hair has grown longer, similar in length to Gwen's, though hers is completely straight. In addition, a rather expensive looking watch adorns her left wrist, along with a pearl-like ball earring poking through her locks.
“No loopholes in our contracts for you to try and weasel your way out of, McLean?”
“You know, you'd think a law school graduate would actually read what she's given before signing it, right?” Chris jabs back, getting a huff from Courntey.
“Hmph! Well, if there is anything wrong-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, lawsuit, lawyers, yada yada, we get the drill,” Chris cuts her off, pointing over towards the other arrivals. “Go stand with the others.”
Courtney's eyes narrow as she walks by Chris and gives the already arrived campers a once over – giving what actually seems like a genuine smile to DJ and getting one in return – before freezing up as she notices the goth.
“G-Gwen … h-hi …” stammers Courtney before trailing off.
“Courtney …” Gwen tries to start before she too falls silent, rubbing her arm.
[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
Courntey lets out a loud groan as she rubs her temples. “Why? I just wanted one last shot to try and repair my standing. Why did Gwen have to be here?”
There's a slight pause as Courtney keeps massaging her temples, before throwing her arms up in the air.
“Oh, who am I kidding? Of course Gwen would be here. It's Chris.” A pause. “Why does this have to be so hard?”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional - Gwen]
“Oh god, this is awkward …” Gwen groans with her head in her hand. “At least it's not Duncan.”
[Confessional Ends]
Courtney takes her place amongst the currently gathered original cast, taking a spot as far away from Gwen as she can.
“Hmm … seems a little tense, eh? Well, why don't we fix that?” chuckles Chris as he rubs his hands together. “Quite possibly the most conniving competitor in Total Drama history, yet only the runner-up in World Tour, it's Alejandro!”
“What?!” exclaims all four campers.
The handsome Latino gracefully slides off the boat railing onto the dock below, giving a smirk and a raised eyebrow at the group. Not too much has physically changed about the devious Spaniard, although a rugged five o'clock shadow accompanies his well groomed soul patch. The top of his locks have been pulled back and tied into a man bun, while the base of his hair hangs free.
[Outhouse Confessional – Alejandro]
“Twice this hellish show has managed to disgrace the honour of myself and the vaunted Burromuerto name,” Alejandro states, one knee drawn up so his stylish boot rests on the wooden platform. “Three times if you include the shameful display put in by my brother José during his little cameo. This is a travesty – one that must be righted.”
[Confessional Ends]
“Hola, mi amigos. It has been far too long,” Alejandro waves as he walks up to them. “Especially for the hermosas flores.”
“The what?” asks DJ.
Alejandro winks at the three female competitors as he replies, “The beautiful flowers.”
Both Courtney and Gwen's eyes narrow as they look at him, though they do also carry the faint fluster of a blush on their cheeks. Eva, on the other hand, looks quite transfixed.
[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]
“I know. I know! He's-”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
“-a snake! It means nothing!” Courtney closes her eyes and turns her head away with a look of indignation. However, after a pause, her eyes open back up. “But-”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]
“-why does it have to feel-”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
“-so intoxicating?” She giggles, before freezing up and smacking her cheek hard. “No!”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional]
“I mean, why would anyone ever want to kiss the lips that have been kissing Heather?” Gwen finishes with a smirk before pretending to gag.
[Confessional Ends]
“You know, I wasn't sure where I was going to find a greased eel for my new unadon recipe, but now …” Noah decides to speak up with his signature level of sass.
“Ah, Noah, I see getting a free meal ticket into society still couldn't improve your manners,” Alejandro shoots back, seemingly unfazed by Noah's obvious dig.
“Well, you know what they say. You can't teach a dead donkey new tricks.”
That one, however, got under the Latino's skin as his eyes narrow, shooting daggers at the snarker who simply smirks back before getting a nudge from DJ
“Meal ticket?”
“Don't worry about it,” Noah shrugs him off and looks the other way, only to see Eva still in a bit of a daze. “What's with you?”
[Outhouse Confessional – Eva]
“Soooooo dreamy …” Eva swoons with a dreamy expression, before jerking upright and – like Courtney – hitting herself to snap herself out of it. However, instead of a slap, it's a full on punch.
“No! The girls at the gym already rubbed my face in for letting Justin talk me out of all that money back in season one. No pretty boy is going to make me lose focus again.
[Confessional Ends]
Eva catches Noah's look at her before rapidly shaking her head to clear it as Alejandro takes his place amongst the arrivals.
“Well, seeing as how one handsome devil seemed to turn the heat up to eleven, let's see what bringing in a second will do,” Chris continues on. “The supermodel with hypnotic good looks and a twelve-pack to match, it's Justin!”
Justin rides in on the front deck of the boat as it speeds in, the sun shines from behind, birds fly overhead, and the model gets a glint that sparkles from his pearly white teeth as his signature music plays behind him. He has managed to maintain his undeniable good looks despite the many physical traumas he has undergone during previous seasons – particularly Action.
[Outhouse Confessional – Eva]
The confessional camera shows no-one inside. However, a loud cacophony of destruction sounds out off-screen and the outhouse shakes, all while Eva can be heard screaming and raging.
[Confessional ends]
Justin walks across the dock in front of a grinning Chris, before he gestures to another boat coming in.
“And rounding out our heart seekers, he placed third in World Tour and thinks himself a casanova ,” Chris emphasises this with air-quotes, before following with a mocking laugh, “let's welcome back Cody!”
The boat comes to a stop at the dock as Cody walks down the path, wearing a puzzled expression. He has undergone the greatest transformation of any cast member introduced so far, having undergone quite the growth spurt. He now stands around the same height as Alejandro – perhaps even being slightly taller – while his skinny frame has bulked out to a more lean build, filling out his clothes. His hair has also grown a bit thicker, while he maintains a small bit of scruff on his chin.
“Hey, what do you mean 'thinks'?”
Cody spares a glance at Chef who nonchalantly walks past towards the boat, before looking back as a few poorly contained snickers can be heard from various sources – a quick look showing them coming from Justin, Alejandro and Courtney.
“You're kidding, right?” the host asks.
Cody sighs and scuffs the dock a little with his foot as he walks up to the others, picking himself up a little on the way to put back on his 'charming bravado'.
“Hey guys,” he says, shooting finger-guns at the group. Eva rolls her eyes at his act, though he doesn't notice. Instead, his eyes widen a little and his smile gets bigger as he notices the goth already in the group. “Hi, Gwen.”
Gwen winces a little as she gives a little finger wave before rubbing her arm. “Cody, heeeey … What brings you back?”
“Honestly, I still feel like I need to make my mark. Even in finishing third, I don't feel like I deserved to be there. I want to prove myself, even if it's just to myself.”
There's a slight beat as several look surprised by his answer.
“Huh, that's actually pretty mature of you.” Gwen notes.
“Plus, I really needed to get away from Sierra,” he adds on. “I've gone through five different phone numbers and thirteen new email addresses. My family even moved to a different province. She still kept finding me. At this rate, I may need to change my name.”
Noah and DJ share a look.
“And in wanting to get away from Sierra …” DJ starts.
“You thought this would get you that freedom?” Noah finishes.
“Yeah, kinda. At least until this episode airs. Why?”
Cody barely finishes asking the question before a harsh squeal comes out of shot and Cody is tackled to the ground, somehow skidding across the dock as Sierra grips onto him tightly. Her appearance hasn't changed much, though where she had one long braid she now has two. Her hair is also a little frayed with strands coming out in various spots, while if you look carefully you could maybe see the slight markings suggesting a tattoo on her back covered up by her shirt.
“Ah! Ah! Codykins!” Sierra giggles madly, nuzzling her head up against his. “It's been so long and so lonely but now we can finally be together properly after all this time!”
“Oh, I don't know ...” deadpans Noah.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!” Cody flails around in her grip. “Why?!”
“Sure, Sierra, ruin my intro, why don't you?” Chris huffs as he watches on, before catching Chef walk back from the ship. “Weren't you supposed to keep her contained till the cue?”
[Outhouse Confessional – Chef]
“I've dealt with enough of the crazies thanks to Izzy to know that there ain't no way anything was gonna stop that creep,” Chef notes, tapping a finger up against his tree trunk arms. “Sierra'd already woken up early from the tranquilliser, broke outta her chains, and busted open three of the four safes she'd been locked in by the time I got to the hold.”
He pauses, looking off to the side before adding on, “I almost feel sorry for that kid.”
[Confessional Ends]
“Well, whatever, super-crazy superfan fandom fanatic, Sierra everybody.”
Sierra is still pinning down Cody underneath him completely unfazed by Chris' lacklustre introduction for her, while everyone else watches on uncomfortably.
DJ is the first to speak up as he asks the others, “Should we help him?”
“Do you want to get rabies?” Courtney whispers back.
DJ lets out a little whimper as Sierra finally stands up, holding a struggling Cody tight against her while everyone else scoots a little away from the 'couple'.
“Anywho, our final member from our original cast, give it up for …” Chris trails off as he notices that the boat he was expecting to have arrived already is nowhere to be seen. “Seriously? Is it too much to ask for my intros to go as they should?”
A ringtone calls out as the host pulls out a phone from his shorts with a click.
“Yeah? Hey. You know we're on a schedule, right? Fiiiine …”
Chris tosses his phone away in a strop before spinning back round to face the original cast.
“Well, looks like someone's being troublesome,” he explains, before glancing at a watch on his wrist, “and the timing for the next gen was set to their arrival … So, guess it's time for a commercial break! You've seen the first gen slackers we've had to pluck back from obscurity.”
“Hey,” Courtney shouts back to no reaction from Chris as he continues on.
“Has this season's winner already appeared? Who else will join this hopeless lot? Find out when we return after this break!”
----------
Commercial Break
“Are you tired of being ignored by the one you want?”
A female voice plays over footage of a pimply teen girl waving at a jock in a school hallway, only for the jock to completely ignore her. Her lip quivers as she sags up against the line of lockers.
“Do you want to be the one they all drool over?”
A new scene comes in of an adult standing at a bar, absentmindedly stirring her drink as she watches a handsome hunk chat up a younger woman wearing rather revealing clothing.
“Does your body sabotage you with its icky smell?”
A third scene plays as a panting woman in a heavy sweat stained tracksuit takes a smell of her armpits before gagging and passing out. A voluptuous woman clad in a form-hugging blue cocktail dress steps over the fallen lady and points to the camera.
“Then you need Desperado; The Fragrance of Last Resort!”
A close up of the fragrance bottle is shown, crafted to look like the drumstick of a roast chicken.
“Our company utilised the same cutting edge research shopping centres found to attract customers to their stores and bottled it ready for you.”
A scene plays of the teen spritzing herself with the fragrance as the jock walks by her again; though this time he does stop. Sniffing the air, he turns around and comes face-to-face with her with a wide smile.
“Let the irresistible smell of roast chicken do the work for you.”
The teen girl winks at the camera as the object of her affection leans in with hearts in his eyes and a small line of drool leaving his mouth. The image dissolves back to a close-up of the bottle.
“Desperado can be found in all good stores. Or you can go to our website and order from there.”
It zooms back to show the bottle being held by the voluptuous model, still standing over the fallen – and now twitching – third woman.
“Desperado! Just one spritz and he'll be finger licken' smitten!”
She sprays the lens in a cloud of fragrance, the cloud parting away as clips of Beth feeding the liquid fragrance to Owen in Total Drama Action is played with a big red X over the top.
“Warning; Desperado is not meant for consumption. We are not liable for any poisoning caused by ingestion. Please report to a hospital if you have any health problems.”
----------
“Welcome back to Total Drama: Destination Stardom!” Chris says, still on the docks with the nine already arrived campers. “We've already re-introduced the returning cast members from our first three seasons – minus one who's late. So, we're just going to move right on to the next generation of campers. And, because I need some cheering up …”
He pulls out a remote and looks out across the water at the incoming boats before pressing the button, making the vessels explode one after another, with a bunch of cries coming from the destroyed ships.
“Ah, much better,” Chris laughs as he wipes a tear from his eye. “Nothing like an explosion to lighten up my day. And, without further ado-”
“Sha-score! First to the island!”
“From second place in Revenge of the Island to second out in All Stars, it's Lightning!”
Lightning stands up dripping wet on the dock with arms raised. The uber-jock has bulked up even further in his time away from the competition, his definition showing clearly as his soaked training top clings to his body. There is also now a rather prominent lightning bolt tattoo on each of his biceps. His white hair still remains from being struck by his nickname-sake, though his sideburns have been grown out a little further with lightning zig-zags shaved into it. He pumps his fist against his chest a couple of times just as Jo pulls herself up out of the water.
“Followed up by the competitive triathlete who got out-schemed by a bubble-boy, it's Jo!”
Jo's appearance doesn't appear to have changed much, though it is difficult to tell underneath her drenched clothing, with her water-logged hoodie still retaining a lot of its bulk – even picking up more with the absorbed liquid. The most telltale difference to Jo is that her hair is shorter, though what she would naturally keep it as cannot be known as it has all been flattened down from her swim.
“Whatever,” Jo scoffs, slicking her hair back. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Brightning, 'cause I'm the one winning this thing.”
“Sha-na-uh! Lightning retorts as he flexes his muscles. “Lightning's in it to sha-win it! Ain't no way he's leaving the winner's circle!”
“Oh, I'm sorry, Lightning.”
Chris jumps as he suddenly realises Dawn is standing behind him. The other campers also jump after noticing her there as well, with the moonchild being completely completely dry unlike Jo and Lightning.
Dawn hasn't seemed to change much since her last and only season on the show, with the only noticeable differences being shown with her hair. A few strands from each side of her hairline have been braided together and looped round to the back of her head, with flowers threaded throughout, while the long mane of hair running down her back has been tied up with a sky blue ribbon. There's also a light green band running round the top of her head with another larger flower holding it in place.
“I could've arrived later if you'd preferred,” she adds.
“What? Lightning wasn't first? Lightning's always first!”
Lightning drops to his knees with his head in his hands, while next to him Jo slumps forwards, staring at Dawn incredulously.
“How?! Why are you not wet?! Again?!”
“Oh, there was a shortcut.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Jo]
“What shortcut?! Jo exclaims, raising her hands up before crossing her arms as they fall back down. “How does Pixie keep doing this?!”
[Confessional ends]
“So … uh …” Chris stumbles a little, visibly trying to recompose himself, “animal whisperer and seer of your deepest darkest secrets, welcome back Dawn!”
Dawn purses her lips at him with narrowed eyes, while everyone else gives her a weird look save for Cody and Sierra.
[Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]
Sierra squeals loudly as she stomps her feet.
“It's Dawn! Perhaps the biggest fan favourite in Total Drama history! Oh, except for my Cody-Woady, obviously.”
She pulls out her communications device and presses a few buttons on it, before showing the screen to the camera and revealing an image of Cody's face poorly edited over the body of a bodybuilder.
“All his blogs got so much more traffic after his performance in World Tour. The fans were going crazy! There were also a whole bunch of crazies who kept trying to get his attention.” Sierra growls at that, getting louder and angrier. “All over his socials. Sending unwanted emails. Trying to steal my man!”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cody]
“Wooooow … she's preeeety …” Cody swoons, rocking back and forth before leaning back and cracking his knuckles. “Guess it's time for the Codemeister to get back into gear.”
He flashes a grin to the camera and clicks as he shoots his finger guns.
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]
The superfan gasps loudly as she sets her device down on her laps, leaving her hands free to clap frantically.
“Oh, I wonder if Dawn could help identify if anyone here is a threat to my Codykins? I need to find out just how her powers work – it's such a huge mystery!” Sierra picks her device back up and starts to type. “None of my extensive research techniques could gleam any answers.”
[Confessional Ends]
Jo rings out part of her hoodie as she walks up to the original cast, eyeing down the contestants she faced in All Stars.
“If this is all that Chris has brought back, there's no way that prize won't be mine,” she scoffs as a large stream of water is wrung from her hoodie. “Time to put you fallen stars back in your place – behind me.”
Gwen raises an eyebrow. “Uh, didn't you get kicked off before the rest of us All Stars?”
“That's only because dumb Old Heather interfered with my capable leadership. If she'd just followed my lead, everything would've been fine.”
“You lost,” Eva speaks up rather bluntly. “Get over it.”
Jo scowls and steps up to Eva – the stuntwoman doing the same – as the two size one another up. At least, until Chris leans in between them.
“Look, not that I don't mind the tension – actually, I love it – but can you all get back into position at the far side of the dock? We've got … something … coming in on the water.”
“Whatever,” they both snarl, jostling each other as they rejoin the other contestants, with Dawn and Lightning joining the group. Lightning ends up standing next to DJ, giving his fellow dark skinned a nod and fist bump, while Dawn stands off to the side on her own, glancing at some of the others. Cody tries to make his way over to her, only to be squeezed even tighter against Sierra.
Out on the water, three people are positioned on a floating jumble of debris pieced together into a rather solid and buoyant raft. Brick and B are on the sides of the makeshift raft rowing it in with warped scraps of metal, while Cameron stands at the back edge hacking up water.
Of the trio, Cameron is the one who appears to have changed the most physically. While he's still rather scrawny, he has at least put on a few inches. His hair has grown out a little, adding a bit more fuzz to the top of his head, while he has also grown a thin moustache that twists down to his slight beard covering his chin. Brick's hair has been buzzed even shorter, while he now displays a couple of medals proudly on his chest. B's only real difference appears to be the signs of a ponytail poking out from under his cap.
The three men glide up to the dock as it hits the wooden support beams, with Brick jumping up first and reaching out to help B up. “Excellent job crafting such a fine raft so quickly, B. I've trained on ships that were far less stable.”
B smiles and nods before both turn and offer a hand to Cameron, the bubble-boy easily being hoisted up by the two stronger men.
“I agree,” Cameron adds. “It never seemed like we were going to tip over once.”
[Outhouse Confessional – B]
B puffs some air onto his fist before wiping it down on his jacket, basking in the praise.
[Confessional Ends]
“Lookie lou, a three-for-one special,” Chris pipes up, getting back into shot. “First up, the soldier who still sleeps with a night-light …”
“Sergeant Brick MacArthur, reporting for duty!” the soldier jumps in with a salute, before his eyes widen as he realises what Chris said. “Hey!”
[Outhouse Confessional – Jo]
“Great. First Jockstrap and now G.I. Joke?” Jo groans, rolling her eyes. “What, Chris still needs me to prove I'm the most dominant competitor here? At least with Soldier Boy here, I can at least use him as an asset for a time, till I crush him like all the rest.”
[Confessional switches – Outhouse Confessional – Brick]
“It's great to be back! Especially since I was unable to compete in All Stars.” states Brick as he rubs the back of his neck. “It was a shame, but this time I'll be sure to represent my platoon honourably. Of course I'm searching to win, but I also aim to prove to Jo that I am a worthy competitor even if she wants to mock my code. And if I can outlast her, all the better.”
His fist comes down into his palm at that.
[Confessional Ends]
“Next up, a genius of few words – or, rather, none at all, Beverly !”
B glares at Chris not just for using his actual name, but also the heavy emphasis placed upon it.
“And third, graduating from being a bubble boy to a bubble-man with his win in season 4, only to have his reality burst by being medevaced out in All Stars, it's Cameron!”
Cameron gives a little wave to the contestants, only to shrink back a little as some of the more villainous competitors either glare at him, or eye him up like a lion eyeing a fresh carcass.
[Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]
“While my injuries have fully healed, my mom was still rather hesitant to let me come back out here,” Cameron gingerly admits. “Ultimately, I believe it was the optimal decision to compete once again. I would like to prove that my win was completely earned and deserved. Plus, I feel as though there's still so much more for me to learn – things that I may only learn being out here.”
[Confessional Ends]
The three new arrivals walk up to the gathered campers and start to interact – mainly to those from their same generation. B ends up walking towards Dawn, while Cameron and Brick move towards Jo and Lightning.
“It's so lovely to see you again, B!” Dawn greets as she puts a hand upon his arm. “Your aura is radiating your confidence. Have you been doing well?”
B nods and gives her a thumbs up.
“Jo, Lightning, how have you been?” Cameron asks politely, getting cold looks in return.
“Never you mind, little boy. Lightning's still owed his championship rematch with you.”
“Wha- rematch?” Cameron steps back, although Lightning fails to notice as he keeps going.
“And Lightning's gonna make sure to crush you when that happens. Sha-bam!”
Lightning punches his palm hard, causing a hard crack to sound out which – coupled with his declaration – brings Cameron to give a very audible gulp.
“Much as it pains me to say, what he said,” Jo adds on, jabbing a thumb in Lightning's direction. “You'd better stay out of my way, Toothpick. You won't stand a chance against me this time.”
“Hey, that's no way to talk to a potential teammate,” Brick interjects as he Brick marches up to Jo, standing between her and Cameron.
“Well, well, well, Sir Leaks-A-Lot. Ready to fall once more to my superior strength and leadership?”
“Negative, ma'am. This time I will make sure to lead my platoon to victory.”
“Yeah, right. The only team captain that'll be winning will be me. That is, unless Chris is dumb enough to include a pants-wetting competition.”
Cameron slowly backs away as the two rivals continue to bicker, before jumping at the slight touch on his shoulder.
“Gah!”
“Sorry, Cam!” Gwen apologises as she takes a step back. “Didn't mean to scare you.”
“Oh, Gwen. Don't worry about it. How have you been?”
“Eh, so-so. Art college has been a bit of a pain. Not that I don't love it, but still … What about you?”
“Oh, I've been wondering what to study for my next Masters. I've already covered Astrophysics, Biochemistry and Psychology, but I'm not sure what else to cover.”
“Wow, that's incredible! Hey, maybe you'd like to join me studying Art History. Could be nice to have someone who can help.”
Cameron taps his finger against his chin. “Hmm … It could be nice to study something a bit more unusual to my tastes. I'll think about it.”
Gwen chuckles a little at his seriousness. “You know it was a joke, right?”
“Well, even then, I'll still consider it.”
They laugh, until Cameron catches Courtney looking at them through the corner of her eye.
“Hello, Courtney. How have you been?” asks Cameron.
“Fine,” Courtney curtly replies as she looks away.
Cameron and Gwen's eyebrows raise a little as they glance at one another.
Seeing how all the others have started talking to one another, Noah takes it all in before looking over at Eva. “You ever get the feeling you're being ignored?”
Eva shrugs before pulling out her music player and putting in her earphones.
“Of course not.” deadpans Noah.
“Don't worry,” DJ says as he puts a hand on Noah's shoulder. “I'm sure it's just because we haven't competed against them. It's nothing personal.”
Noah raises an eyebrow, before looking the other way as Justin is seen to be too busy admiring himself in a handheld mirror. The snarker's eyebrow lowers at that as he drones, “Perfect.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]
“Look, DJ may be right, and normally I wouldn't care about this at all. But, having only been on two seasons – and one not for very long – this is the sort of thing that could cost me allies, especially with that snake Alejandro around.”
Noah's eyes narrow as he brings up the Latino.
“If I'm going to show what I'm really capable of, and eliminate that greased eel while I'm at it, I'll need some help. And frankly, there's not that many candidates right now.
[Confessional Ends]
“Excuse me, Chris, but is this everyone competing?” queries Alejandro.
“Not at all,” he answers as Chef takes off to the skies wearing a jetpack and some protective gear. “In fact, there's still some-”
The host is cut off by the sloshing of water, with B's raft being smashed apart as it's scattered into the air. Bursting up from the wreckage is a large shape dripping with water – larger than any normal human. With tail protruding, a vibrant orange tinge to her skin, and a glowing green hue to her hair, the mutated form of Dakota bursts out from beneath the water and lands on the deck, growling loudly. Everyone else scrambles back with most screaming in shock, while Chris yelps and trips up over his own feet, collapsing to the deck.
“WHERE'S CHRIS?!” Dakotazoid roars.
The other competitors quickly point in his direction, with Chris glaring at them until Dakotazoid stomps towards him.
“Uh ahaha!” Chris freaks out as he crawls backwards. “The uh … th-the heiress of a vast h-hotel chain a-and inheritor of mutant powers … Da-da-dakota-a!”
Dakotazoid continues to stomp up to the host, before Dawn suddenly appears between the two with arms outstretched.
“Dakota! Please calm down!”
“BUT CHRIS!”
��I know. This heinous man must pay the price for his deviousness. And karma will strike her fury upon him for his crimes towards Mother Nature.”
“I fail to see how diversifying nature with a sprinkling of toxic waste is a bad thing,” Chris pipes up. “Look how well it turned out for Dakota.”
The mutant snarls at him, making him yelp and shrink back, forcing Dawn to continue her appeal.
“But it would not do for you to tarnish your hopes and dreams by attacking this villain. What if it leads to you being kicked off?”
“BUT. DAKOTA. SO. ANGRY! CHRIS BLOW UP SHIP!”
“Here, try sitting down with me,” the moonchild says as she sits down in a lotus position, with Dakota reluctantly following along.
Dawn: (smiles and closes her eyes) “Close your eyes,” she instructs with a smile as she closes her eyes, Dakota following along. “Now, think about what makes you happy.”
“SAM!” Dakotazoid says with a toothy smile. “DAKOTA MISS SAM.”
“I know, I know.” Dawn pats the mutated knee before continuing. “Now, breathe in.”
Both do. “And out.”
Both do. “And keep Sam in your mind.”
As Dawn continues leading Dakota in some calming breathing exercises, the mutated heiress slowly starts to transform back into her far more human figure. Save for the still vivid green hair, her appearance looks just like when she first appeared on Total Drama cameras. The moonchild opens her eyes and brings her hands together as she takes in Dakota's reversion.
“Better?”
Dakota nods, “Better.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Dakota]
“Chris better watch his step. Part of the reason he can be back at all is because of the settlement between the show and daddy because of my mutation,” Dakota explains as she pulls out a phone and holds it off to the side, posing with a peace sign as she snaps a selfie. “They improve their medical facilities and response, their liability clauses, and get my adorable self back on for more camera time – I still need my spin-off series, after all – and daddy won't sue the show and Chris for everything they're worth because of my mutation and treatment.”
As she goes down the list, she takes a few different poses – pausing each time as the shutter effect sounds each time. Following the pout, the duck lips and, lastly, running her free hand through her hair, she pockets her phone before finally giving the confessional cam her full attention.
“Still, that doesn't mean I'm going to let Chris get off that easily. I'll be sure to run that tired old momma's boy into the ground.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Dawn]
“I really don't think it's a good idea for Dakota to be back on the show,” Dawn says, sitting cross-legged as she holds out a finger for a butterfly to perch on. “While it can certainly be a good idea at times for victims to face the source of their trauma, I sense that Dakota's rage towards Chris is only going to regress any healing she may have already faced. Not to mention being away from Sam …”
The butterfly flutters back up off her finger as she lets out a sigh.
“Maybe I'm jumping to conclusions.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jo]
“While Daddy's Little Princess can really grind my gears, I honestly wouldn't mind wrestling with Dakotazoid,” Jo admits with the crack of her knuckles. “It's about time I got a nice challenge from someone, and it's not like anyone else here's going to give me that.”
[Confessional Ends]
Chris picks himself up as Dawn and Dakota walk back past him, with the host pausing briefly as Dakota glares at him. Getting to the rest of the combined casts, Dakota pulls out a handheld mirror and makeup brush as she quickly touches herself up, before blowing a kiss to the camera – a fair amount of the contestants giving her uneasy looks. Chris finishes brushing himself down before returning to his usual bravado.
“Alright, now that that situation has been sorted out, it's time to …” Chris pauses and looks over to the gathered cast, eyes flicking over each person. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen … huh, seems like we're missing one.”
As he finishes saying that, a loud scream comes from offscreen as a blue shoots out of the water past Chris. Stuck to Lightning clinging desperately to the uber-jock's muscled biceps is Scott, breathing rapidly as he jitters with shaken arms.
“Dude, get your arms off the Lightning!” Lightning fusses as he tries to pry Scott off his arm to little effect, as Scott continues to cling on with a vice-like grip.
“F-F-Fa-Fang!”
Most of the gathered contestants who'd competed in Revenge Against the Island and All Stars gasp and look into the water as the top of the mutated shark pokes up above the surface. He gives a wide toothy grin at the lot as he eyes up his favourite chew toy, before disappearing back down into the lake. Lightning, being one of the ones not phased by – or perhaps even noticing – Fang, starts to rapidly shake his arm up and down, finally managing to fling the dirt farmer from his arm as Fang submerges.
[Outhouse Confessional – Lightning]
“Man, Lightning don't judge, but he does not want dude's clinging to him outside of competing,” the gifted athlete protests with his hands on his knees. “Lightning gets it, he's irresistible.”
At this, he flexes his biceps, adding, “After all, look at this sexy beast,” and giving one bicep a kiss, before folding his arms. “But the Lightning does not swing that way. Now, the ladies? The ladies can join him whenever they please.”
[Confessional Ends]
“Ah, there you are,” the uncaring host beams, loving Scott's visible terror. “The final returning member from the second generation, the challenge throwing dirt farmer loved by all kinds of sharks, it's Scott!”
“Why the hell is Fang here?!” Scott demands as he picks himself up off the dock, getting a shrug from McLean. In the few years since he was last seen, the dirt farmer has grown out a short scraggly beard, mostly covering just his chin, while a tuft of chest hair is poking up from the cut of his tank top.
“Why not?”
Chris has a nice chuckle before stopping as he realises the farmer is growling quite angrily.
“What sort of show do you think we'd be running if we didn't bring that killing machine back?” he continues. “Especially with you back in the game?”
Scott scoffs and crosses his arms over his hairy chest, looking to collect himself. “Whatever.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Scott]
The ginger farmer leans back against the left outhouse wall, bouncing a rock against the right.
“It's not like it'll matter whether that F-F-Fang,” he seizes up at his own mention of the vicious mutant shark, “i-is around.”
He looks side to side before relaxing a little.
“Papi didn't raise no wuss. I'm winning the money this time, and ain't no m-m-mutant sh-shark …” Scott seizes up again as he stammers through the words before bringing himself back under control, “o-or anyone else gonna be able to stop me.”
He gives a smile to the camera, though it is obvious that it is not reflected in his eyes.
[Confessional Ends]
Chris shoves Scott back, the ginger sliding back into the rest of the contestants. He comes to a stop as he bumps into B, with the silent genius glaring at him along with Dawn.
“Anywho, now that you're all here and I've had my fun,” the host starts as he peers down at his phone, “and a certain someone is still being a hassle … guess it's time to bring in our returning campers from Pahkitew Island!”
McLean turns to the sky and holds a megaphone to his mouth. “Chef!”
The current arrivals all look up at the sky to see a large military helicopter hovering above them, with what looks like a shipping crate attached underneath. From within the cockpit, Chef pressed down a big red button. With that, the bottom of the crate opens up, and several contestants shriek as they're dropped out of the sky.
“Introducing the Aussie Amazon with a giant fear of tiny places, Jasmine!”
Jasmine is shown plummeting with her arms flailing, a parachute pack strapped to her back. It doesn't appear like the survivalist has changed much during her time away, outside of a rather long scar running down her right cheek.
“Not this again!” she cries out, clenching her eyes shut as she pulls the cords for her parachute. The pack opens up and the white chute unfurls above her, the dark skinned Aussie looking up in relief.
“You bloody ripper!” she sighs in relief before glares at the ground. “Not funny, Chris!”
“I beg to differ,” the host retorts as the camera cuts back to him. “Especially seeing who's next.”
Back in the sky, Jasmine's glare disappears as a different scream comes from above her. Quickly panning up, Shawn is plummeting at quite the rate. The zombie fanatic's hair has grown even thicker and wilder over time, unkempt even while being contained under his beanie. Otherwise, he also shares a scar similar to Jasmine – though his is on his left cheek.
“Don't be a zombie, don't be a zombie, don't be a zombie …” Shawn winces, clutching onto this parachute cord before pulling it. The pack opens, letting a mix of acorns, almonds, cashews, hazelnuts and pecans come spilling out. “Ah, nuts.”
Shawn comes to an abrupt stop as he is now hanging upside down. Confused himself, he looks up to see Jasmine holding onto his leg, having caught him mid-fall.
“Jasmine! Thank goodness!”
“Her zombie obsessed boyfriend and winner of Pahkitew Island, Shawn!” Chris introduces from off-screen.
“Please don't let go!”
“Wouldn't dream of it!” his girlfriend says with a smile.
The two quickly right Shawn back head up as he now clings onto Jasmine's waist while the survivalist wraps an arm around him.
[Outhouse Confessional – Shawn]
“Of course this happens after I choose to forgo the wingsuit,” he complains. “Being able to glide up and over the zombie hoard makes getaways much safer – especially if you get cornered up high. But, with the reduced funds I had after splitting the million with Jasmine, it was either the wingsuit or the UV light panels to cover the ceiling, walls and floor of the path to the entrance of our bunker.”
He pulls out a notepad and pen before scribbling something down. “Well, guess that's now going to the top of the necessities.”
[Confessional Ends]
The couple continue their much slower descent down to the ground with a bit more peace of mind now. That is, only until both Amy and Sammy plummet past them, screaming all the way.
“Next, it's the drama inducing cheerleader, the better twin, it's Amy!”
“You better break my fall, Samey!” the evil twin shouts as she plummets, looking over at her ever so slightly younger twin.
Back on the ground, McLean's expression drops as he slumps a little, his enthusiasm vanishing. “Oh yeah, and the cheating lesser twin, Samey.”
Back in the sky, Sammy gives a worried glance to her sister before pulling on her cord. The pack on her back opens up. It stays open. And yet, nothing comes out.
“Nothing but air! How very not surprising!” jabs Amy with a nasty grin. “Useless as always!”
Sammy screams and reaches out, clinging to her twin as they continue to fall. That is, until Amy pulls on the cord to her own pack which brings forth a parachute. The quick change in velocity causes Sammy to slide down her sister, managing to keep herself clinging on to Amy's legs.
With the two no longer plummeting as fast, their hair and outfits no longer buffeting through the air – the camera can reveal the twin's changes far more easily. Amy's hair has grown a little longer, including a long portion of her bangs that have been swept over to partially cover the right side of her face – obscuring that eye and her beauty mark. Her red and white-trimmed cheerleader uniform also appears to hug her figure a little snugger than before, in turn showing off a touch more skin than before. Whether this is down to the outfit being a size or two smaller, or the mean twin having grown in more areas than just her hair remains difficult to tell.
Sammy has opted not to adopt the sweeping bangs that her sister has, instead keeping her hair back with a red hair ribbon – adding one more difference between the twins besides the beauty mark. Unlike the other contestants who have arrived, Sammy is the first to have any difference to her iconic outfit. While still in a matching red and white-trimmed cheerleader outfit to her sisters, the sleeves of the nice twin's uniform are long, covering her arms completely. She also has a pair of black stockings covering up the skin that would be on display between her skirt and knee high boots. With these changes, it is a little hard to see if she's physically developed in the same way that her sister potentially has, although at a glance any difference between the two is not obvious.
“Ha! See?! Clearly I'm the better twin!” Amy gloats as she looks up at her parachute, though with the slightest touch of relief threaded through her tone. “Like, obviously they'd want to save me over you!”
Samey can only whimper as she responds, “Yes, sis ...” with a downcast look, though that is overcome with panic as she's suddenly rocked back and forth by Amy swinging. “What are you-?!”
“Well, you're clearly not needed now that I'm safe.”
“N-No! Amy! Please!” Sammy screams.
Amy keeps swinging trying to fling her sister off her legs. Chris watches their fight – if it can be called that – with a satisfied grin.
“She can't really make her fall, right?: Courtney steps up to Chris, looking up with him. “She's got an emergency parachute?”
Chris gives her a strange look. “What kind of show do you think we're running?”
Courtney's mouth drops open as Brick dashes up to the two. “Shouldn't we do something? In case she does fall?”
“Not my problem,” the host replies with a shrug. “Contract's already signed.”
Many of the contestants gasp, their eyes wide with shock.
Dakota starts to stomp forward herself, the rough edge of a growl building at the back of her throat. “Chris, you better not-”
“I'll have you know, Dakota, that I'm not breaking any part of our agreement with your daddy,” Chris interrupts. “So zip it!”
Dakota's eyes seem to blank a little at that before she lets out a rather dangerous snarl.
“But you can't just do nothing!” the soldier pleads.
The host focuses on the three who stepped forwards with a rather unamused expression.
“Alright, fine. You want me to do something?” he asks, before putting his host-face back on. “I can introduce our next competitor!”
Brick looks stunned, along with a few of the campers in the background. Although the camera does catch B at the back of the group appearing to run off from the others, his quick departure seemingly unnoticed by anyone else. Instead they are looking at the soldier who sputters at a loss for words, only managing to find his tongue a few beats after.
“Wait, what?! No, that's not what-”
“She's an aspiring Olympic gymnast and the runner-up of Pahkitew Island,” Chris pushes on, completely ignoring Brick's protests, “give it up for Sky!”
Sky's cries are heard from up above, the camera quickly panning up to see her with her parachute already open and working, instead having to deal with being buffeted by the wind. Sky's hair has grown out more in the few years since Pahkitew Island, with the gymnast keeping it tied back in a ponytail. Otherwise, she appears to look the same, though her lower half may be slightly thicker than before – a subject discussed on various fan sites and blogs, including a couple of Sierra's.
“Woah! Wo-o-o-o-ah!” she cries out as she grips onto the straps of her pack rather tightly, continuing to be knocked around by gusts of wind. Her nervous look quickly morphs into horror as a tearing sound is heard, with Sky glancing up to see some holes forming in the fabric.
“Oh no! Nononononononono!”
The parachute continues to tear apart as her descent speeds back up much to her distress, having already been blown over land instead of water. Desperately looking around, she manages to correct her course ever so slightly before taking off her increasingly useless pack and falling towards a fir tree. Tucking her legs into herself, Sky manages to catch the tree trunk at just the right angle that she rolls off a rather strong and curved branch, launching herself towards another tree. Reaching a branch on the next tree, she comes out of her tuck and lands on the edge of another branch, using it to springboard up and over towards the beach. As she comes down onto the sand, she once again tucks her legs in to roll across the beachfront, only to then turn the rolling momentum into three forward flips hand over feet followed by a corkscrew flip that – thanks to her momentum – sends her up onto the dock, landing with perfect form. She looks around at her surroundings for a quick moment, before sagging into herself with great relief.
“Oh, thank goodness!”
Several contestants look surprised and impressed with Sky's recovery, in particular Jo's stunned look with her jaw hanging open, and Lightning's wide-eyed gaze with his mouth caught somewhere between slack-jawed shock and a broad smile. Of all the group, the only one who can muster up any words at all is Eva.
“How the hell?!”
[Outhouse Confessional – Lightning]
“Sha-wow! That girl's got skills!” Lightning complements, a rare display of genuine appreciation considering it's not for himself. “Of course, Lightning doesn't need a team – he is a team of one!”
In a return to form he kisses his flexed bicep once again.
“However, if Lightning must be part of a team, then he guesses that being with her wouldn't be too bad. Better than that sha-traitor Jo, anyway.”
[Confessional Ends]
As Sky starts to walk up to the large group, the continued bickering of the twins causes everyone to look back up.
“Like, you've been weighing me down all your life, Samey. Let go!” Amy barks, still swinging back and forth.
“No! Please!” her sister pleads, getting even more panicky as she does appear to be slipping down.
“I. Said. Let. GO!”
With one final swing forwards Amy delivers a kick to knock Sammy off, the younger twin shrieking as she falls while taking one of Amy's white boots with her. The cast members gasp and yell, except for the returning B who grabs ahold of Brick and DJ and brings them out into space on the dock. He hands each of them a corner of a rope net and takes the other two for himself, before quickly positioning the three of them while glancing up above. Sammy comes falling down but lands in the net, held with enough give that it doesn't bounce her back up like a trampoline. While the gathered campers mainly seem relieved, Sammy still screams a little as DJ and Brick lower their corners and help her to her feet.
“Calm down, soldier. You're safe!”
Sammy still lets out some anxious breaths as DJ holds onto her shoulders and Brick stands beside them, the nice twin eventually calming down.
“I-I'm alive?” Sammy breathes, patting her body with her hand – and Amy's boot held in a vice grip – in a need to check that it is true. When it finally sinks in, she lets out a shaky laugh and a disbelieving smile. “I'm alive! Thank you! Thank you!”
On each 'thank you' she gives first DJ and then Brick a tight hug – her sister's boot still held fast in her grip.
“No problem,” DJ returns her hug with a gentle one of his own, before letting Sammy dash to Brick who also gives a gentle hug to her.
“Of course, ma'am. Though you should also thank B.” Brick releases Sammy and turns to B with a salute. “Excellent thinking, soldier!”
B pauses rolling the net up to give a thumbs up with a soft smile, before his eyes go a little wide as Sammy comes up and hugs him too, the genius holding his arms wide of her along with the trailing net.
“Thank you!”
B gives a smile and a couple pats on her shoulder before they look up as Amy comes down. “Ugh! Fine! I guess you can stay.”
Amy touches down, putting most of her weight on her remaining boot while she ignores the glares sent her way. Sammy, meanwhile, quickly detaches herself from B.
“Even though you're so useless you couldn't even break my fall,” Amy tacks on with a slight shrug as she undoes the straps for her parachute pack Once it's off she glares down at her boot-less leg, before glancing back as Jasmine cuts in.
“Are you kidding me?!” Jasmine yells as she and Shawn land onto the docks, Shawn letting go of his girlfriend as the Aussie wastes no time removing her pack before storming up to the evil twin. “What the bloody hell was that?!”
“Um, what was what?”
“You could'a killed her!”
“Ohmygosh!” the mean twin huffs, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Like, what is your problem?”
Shawn now steps up to Jasmine as the Amazon towers over the mean twin. “What's my problem?! What's yours?!”
“Why do you even care? It's not like she's your parasitic twin.”
Jasmine growls as Shawn gets in the middle of the two, trying to hold Jasmine back. Meanwhile, Sammy shrinks into herself further, almost hugging Amy's loose boot. The rest of the cast watch on with rather wide eyes, save for Justin looking into his hand mirror and Chris who's watching on rather pleased.
“Easy, Jaz,” Shawn warns, making an effort to try and pull Jasmine away from Amy.
“No, she's my friend!” Jasmine replies to the mean twin, seemingly ignoring her boyfriend – who's efforts to pull her back also appear to be ineffective. “And clearly I care about her more than you do! You tried to kill your own sister!”
“Oh my god! I did not! I was just helping Samey get down so she could do her job as the lesser me and break my fall.” Amy spits out before pointing behind her at the remaining campers. “Besides, it's not like this bunch of bozos tried to help her anyway.”
“What?!” a bunch of them exclaim.
“Clearly they all thought Samey would be fine,” she continues. “Or didn't care if something happened to her.”
“How dare you?!” a visibly cross Courtney yells back.
[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
In comparison to her fuming visage just before, the Courtney present in the confessional looks oddly nonchalant.
“I mean sure, I'm not too fussed what happens to Samey. If she got injured, then that's one less competitor standing in the way of my million dollars,” she explains. “Still, I'm not an idiot. At least by making a show that I do care, it puts her far, far below me on the list of who'll be sticking around. You know, in case I get the great misfortune of being put on her team.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sierra]
“Death warrant, signed and sealed,” Sierra bluntly puts, pretending to squiggle a signature in the air. “No one alienates the majority of the competition and lasts long. That is, unless she's managed to inject herself with Heather's unusual knack for survival along with her attitude.”
She pauses with that, suddenly switching to a thoughtful expression as she taps a finger against her chin.
“Then again, Chris may just try to keep her around for the sake of drama ,” this she puts with added air quotes, “by having her swap teams during an elimination ceremony. TL;DR, by my calculations, she won't last long.”
[Confessional Ends]
Brick steps forwards as B gently pats Sammy's shoulder, shaking his head as she looks up at him trying to convey how he thinks what her sister said isn't true.
“Begging your pardon, miss, but my comrades and I did all jump in to protect Miss Samey,” Brick points out, though he misses the slight wince Sammy makes when he calls her the wrong name. He's instead busy gesturing over to B and DJ, both men standing by Sammy and glaring at the evil twin.
Amy gives them a look for a beat before sighing and rolling her eyes. “Whatever.”
With that, Chris walks back into shot with a clipboard in his hands. “Yeah, much as I'm enjoying this fantastic spat, this looks like it's turned into all chatter with no splatter.”
“Splatter?!” Brick repeats with wide eyes.
“Whoops, sorry,” the host says, sounding like he's trying to keep a laugh down. “I meant splashing. Anyway, mind joining your fellow campers?”
“Fine,” Amy whines, though she first heads towards her sister. “Just give me back my boot. I am not getting a splinter from this awful dock.”
She snatches her boot back and puts it back on before marching over and standing in front of the large group of campers with a huff. Having folded her arms over her chest again, she taps her fingers against her bicep for a few moments before shouting out to her sister.
“Well what are you waiting for, Samey? Get over here!”
Sammy just whimpers and nods as she walks over to her sister's side. Jasmine looks concerned and shares a look with Shawn, before sharing another with B, Brick and DJ. The five head back over together and join the gathered cast. The camera focuses on Sammy's very downcast look and poise and Amy's very smug expression as they stand in front of the others, seemingly ignoring the many glares sent Amy's way and the few sympathetic looks to Sammy.
“After all that, it looks as though we've only got one competitor missing. I was kinda hoping for more,” McLean admits as he pulls out a walkie-talkie and starts speaking into it. “Chef, we're missing one down here.”
A slight burst of static sparks out before it cuts to some indiscernible chatter.
“What do you mean 'a hanger on'? How did that happen?”
Some more indiscernible chatter comes through.
“Well, did you try the crowbar?”
Another burst of feedback, which then brings Chris to suddenly beam brightly.
“Excellent.” he puts away the walkie-talkie and turns his focus to the cast. “Looks like she's on her way down.”
Everyone looks to the skies as Sugar comes plummeting down, screaming loudly and clutching what looks like half of a cushioned seat, with a couple of bits of fluff coming loose and getting caught in the air. It doesn't appear as though she's had any obvious physical changes over the last few years, though it is a little tough to tell.
“Please welcome the pageant queen whose play style comes with lots of spice, and has never been accused of being anything nice, it's Sugar!”
“Save me, wizard!” Sugar hollers loudly, squeezing the cushioned seat a little tighter and pushing a little more stuffing out.
Hearing her cries, Noah looks around before asking Sky, “Was Leonard on the helicopter?”
“No, but she was convinced he was.”
“She thought he was invisible,” Jasmine adds on.
“Wizaaaaaard!” the pageant queen screams, her pitch causing many of the cast to wince and cover their ears with their hands.
“Pull your cord, Sugar!” Shawn eventually shouts up with his hands cupping his mouth, getting a weird look from his girlfriend for his actions.
[Outhouse Confessional – Shawn]
“Hey, I may not like her, but it's not like I want her to die. Besides, she could be carrying a dormant zombie virus that'll activate upon her death. You can never be too careful.”
[Confessional Ends]
“No way!” Sugar angrily yells back. “You're just trying to stop the wizard's magic from working!”
“N-No, no! It's … uh … It activates a magic cloak that'll amplify Leonard's spell!” Sky hesitantly joins in, though it seems to convince Sugar as her anger fades away.
“Oh, well in that case …”
Sugar flings the torn half-seat away from her and pulls the cord. However, with the force of her action she spins round so she's now falling back first as her parachute opens, causing the fabric to spill out and engulf the falling commercial model.
“It works! Leonard's wizard cloak-!”
Sugar is cut off as the falling ball of fabric and pageant queen bombs into the water, causing a large splash that brings a slight drizzle to shower the other competitors – other than Chris who's managed to pull an umbrella out from somewhere to keep himself dry.
“Finally! That was perfect! Chris cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. “Will anyone else make a splash on the scene? Who else is waiting in the wings to compete?”
“Aww, there's more?” Dakota moans.
“Seriously, just how many of us are there?” Scott adds.
“Ahem!” McLean loudly interjects with a glare at the two before returning to looking down the camera. “Find out these questions and more in the most stacked season of Total Drama right after this!”
----------
Commercial Break
“Ever wonder what it's like to have a rotten toddler ruining your life?”
A scene plays of a young toddler wailing loudly, banging his drinking cup against a coffee table while his parents grimace, their hands pressed up hard to cover their ears.
“Want to see what it's like to have a child before taking the plunge?”
A new scene plays of a young girl running around the house with a freshly broken vase left behind her, her father's face turning a bright red as a vein bulges on his forehead.
“Or do you just like to laugh at parents having a miserable time?”
A third scene plays of a mother completely drained of energy while two toddlers run around bouncing off the walls. One wears a pot like a helmet while clanging two pans together, while the other smears some brown … something … on the carpet.
“Well, no matter what your answer, come watch as Dr Jill gets these mental patients-to-be through their new teething problems on Tan-Trauma Center; airing new episodes on the Total Drama Network at 8pm Pacific on Terrible Twos-days!”
----------
The camera cuts back to a long shot of the docks with all the currently introduced competitors, Sugar having been fished out of the water and still dripping wet – her soaked hair a testament to this as it hangs heavy over her face.
“Welcome back to Total Drama: Destination Stardom!” Chris says. “Before the commercial break, I may or may not have alluded to the idea that there would be more people joining you here on the island.”
“But the show's never been this stacked before,” Sierra notes. “We've already broken the most cast members, unless you want to count each individual racer on-”
“Zip it, Sierra. I wasn't done,” the host cuts her off, leading her to cross her arms in a huff. “Although, that does segue quite nicely to our next group. A little while back the Total Drama machine was behind a different type of competition; a race around the world!”
“Different formula, better host,” Noah pipes up with his usual deadpan tone.
“Different host,” Chris stresses, “not better. Besides, I had other obligations to fill.”
“Maybe the wizard's curse got all up in Chris' insides and made his tummy gurgle something fierce?” Sugar theorises, gripping her own belly and giving it a shake. “Y'know, because of his screwy elimination?”
“I wouldn't be so smug, Sugar. It was the crummy ratings and reception Pahkitew pulled in that forced us to look in a different direction.”
“That's because they all knew should'a been the one to win that pageant,” snaps the pageant queen, whipping her hair back over her head and getting a few complaints from the campers standing behind her who are given a bit of a spray.
“Nah, you lot just weren't all that good,” Chris quickly shoots her down. “Why do you think there's less of you than the other gens?”
Those who competed on Pahkitew Island give him a glare, except for Sammy who's still miserable. Scott is shown smirking at their reactions.
“Yeah, don't be too glad, Scott. All-Stars sucked hard too.” McLean jabs again. “Dunno what happened, you all kinda lost your marbles.”
The All-Stars cast now join in on glaring at the host. Who just continues on with his speech.
“Anyway, in order to help get that different show up and off the ground for its first – and so far only season,” Chris looks quite pleased at that last bit, “a number of our Total Drama contestants were accepted onto the show to compete. In exchange, we could use the same number of racers on a proper Total Drama season. Five for five.
“Guess your mind is slipping in your old age, because there were only four of us on there,” Noah points out before counting them out on his fingers. “Myself, Owen, Geoff and Leonard.”
“Actually, my mind is perfectly fine in my youthful vigour,” McLean smugly retorts. “You see, while it was indeed you four that went along, a certain surfer chick and Aftermath host was also supposed to compete before she was cut at the last moment on special request for a charity run. But, because she was already contracted, the five still stands. And so … Chef!”
The military helicopter that had been flying above the island that dropped off the Pahkitew crew comes descending quickly, stirring up a bit of vapour from the surface of the water. At the press of another button within the cockpit, the shipping crate detaches from the base of the vehicle and plunges into the sea below. Several contestants gasp, though some for different reasons.
“Ah yes, because the mark of a better host is trying to kill your contestants outright …” Noah drones, keeps up his sarcastic backchat.
“Don't you know it!” Chris replies with a beaming grin, one that quickly withers under the scrutinising looks thrown back at him. “Relax, they aren't in there. Makes it easier to land and get rid of the crate at the same time.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Dawn]
“I'd hoped that Chris would've learned not to dump his waste unsafely after his encounter with toxic waste. Unfortunately, he is still committed to his wasteful ways.”
The moonchild brings her hands together in a praying position as she looks upwards. “Oh, I pray to the Earth Mother that her aquatic life can survive this desecration to their beautiful home.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]
“While it's certainly problematic, I've read about many scenarios where the creatures of the sea claim shipwrecks and sunken goods, transforming the ruins into new reefs for them to live amongst.”
Cameron's eyes lighten up at the thought.
“Perhaps this will be a chance to observe the changes myself!”
[Confessional Ends]
As the shipping crate sinks beneath the surface, Chef flies the helicopter over the dock before coming down onto the beach that Sky had previously flipped along, the rapid whirl of the rotors picking sand up and blowing some over to the contestants who enter a coughing fit along with Chris. The whirl of the blades power down before Chef walks out of the cockpit, standing over by the sliding door on the side of the vehicle while McLean walks over, letting out a last couple of coughs and brushing his outfit down of any clinging sand.
“First up,” he starts as he holds out a hand which Chef puts a file into. The host opens it up and quickly gives it a once over, his eyes lighting up with each line scanned. “She's a glamorous diva with style, fashion and athletic ability to boot, give it up for Jen!”
Chef rolls open the sliding door as the fashionista and one half of the Fashion Bloggers steps into view, getting into a few different poses as camera flashes light up the view. She practically looks the same as she did back on The Ridonculous Race, her gorgeous image having been meticulously maintained thanks to her dietitian and beautician. A group of paparazzi kneel before the docks on the sands taking picture after picture, while Dakota glares down at them.
“Um, hello?” the heiress whines. “You're supposed to be taking pictures of me!”
The paparazzi don't turn around, causing Dakota to pout with her hands on her hips. Turning her head away in a huff, she suddenly freezes up as she notices a good percentage of the single male contestants are transfixed on Jen's posing, watching with interest.
[Outhouse Confessional – Justin]
“Wooooow,” the male model swoons, “she's gorgeous.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cody]
A rosy-faced Cody clears his throat a little as he tugs at his collar, his eyes darting from side to side.
“I-Is it getting hot in here all of a sudden?”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Justin]
“Couldn't you just imagine it? A diva like her and my beautiful model looks?”
He pulls out a handheld mirror and leans back, admiring his own handsome visage.
“We'd take the world by storm.”
[Confessional Ends]
Jen holds a couple more poses before finishing with a kiss to the cameras. Her posing finished, she gracefully exits the chopper – taking Chris' hand as he holds it out to her to help her down.
“Thank you, Chris. By the way, I love your hair. The windswept look totally suits you.”
“I know!” the host boasts looking extremely pleased.
“The rest of your ensemble works too …” the fashionista continues, placing a couple fingers on her chin as she looks Chris up and down scrutinising his appearance. “Although, it looks a little too ruffled, like you're trying too hard to make it look like you're not even trying.”
He takes a look down at himself at her observation. “Yeah, the chopper kinda did a number on it.”
“Hmm … maybe … guess I'll just have to see later.”
Jen leaves him behind, not noticing leaning over to Chef and cupping his mouth with his hand.
“Remind me to call my stylist once we wrap up here,” he whispers to Chef who nods and hums in confirmation.
Ignorant to this, Jen struts across the beach over to the rest of the contestants.
“Oh, hey guys, it's so great to meet you all!”
Dakota just sulks while the others give her relatively friendly looks at worst, save for a glare from Amy and Sammy looking down at her feet.
[Outhouse Confessional – Jen]
The fashionista starts off by waving to the camera, using both hands vigorously.
“Hey hey hey, to all my fashion blog followers! I was so surprised to get contacted by Total Drama asking me to come over. Of course, it would've been great for Tom to join me here, but don't worry! He'll be maintaining our blog and posting while I'm competing here. That's Now Trending with Tom and Jen for all you newbies out there looking for some fashion tips.”
[Confessional Ends]
“And with that ...” Chris flips over to the next page in the file before trying to hold back his snickers. “Ok, ok …”
Chef leans in and has a look, catching a snigger himself, before both men start howling with laughter.
The camera switches to focus on Noah watching with an eyebrow raised, before turning as he gets a nudge from DJ who leans in.
“Any idea who it could be?” DJ whispers.
“Not really,” he shakes his head with his answer. “I can't really think of anyone those two would be that amused to see except ...”
Noah trails off as something seems to be nagging at him, the snarker mentally going through The Ridonculous Race teams. It isn't long before his eyes widen, as if the answer suddenly clicked into his mind.
“Oh no!”
Chris and Chef wipe their tears from their eyes before Chris composes himself somewhat.
“Yeah, this is going to be good!” he beams before finally bringing himself back to his 'professional' self. “Next up, two contestants with the most problems anyone's ever heard of, with the determination to face everything the world throws at them, it's Jay and Mickey! The Adversity Twins!”
Stepping into sight this time are the two identical twin brothers, both looking rather similar to when they previously competed. Both brothers have gained a few inches in height and have had their mops of auburn hair get thicker. They had also gained a few pimples on their faces, with Jay also gaining a small blotch on his neck. Mickey also still wears his protective helmet, helping to tell the two apart.
“Um, hi …” Mickey tentatively waves, with his brother stepping in.
“It's nice to meet you-”
Jay starts to walk forwards only to trip up and fall out of the helicopter, collapsing down on the sand.
“Oww!” he cries out as he hits the beach before bringing out a sniffle. “Uh-oh ... ACHOOOO!”
Jay's sneeze kicks up a cloud of sand which partly obscures his brother.
“Jay!” Mickey calls out, jumping down in order to aid his brother. That is, until his eyes go wide as he stands in the sandy cloud.
“S-So i-itchy …”
“ACHOOOO!”
Jay's next sneeze kicks up another cloud of sand, leaving Mickey to start furiously scratching himself.
“ITCHY! AHHHHHHH!”
Mickey quickly starts running away, scratching himself as he goes, with Jay struggling to pick himself off the ground.
“M-Mi- ugh ... Mickey! ACHOOOO! W-Wa- ACHOO! Wait! Ugh ... Up!”
Jay starts running off after his brother, still continuing to sneeze as the two run off-shot. Chris and Chef start crying with laughter yet again – Chris even falling on his back, before the camera pans across the faces of the other contestants who are all either wide eyed or wincing.
[Outhouse Confessional – Noah]
Noah draws out a long sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose before looking up and looking down the camera.
“Those two are just a glutton for punishment, aren't they?”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Alejandro]
Alejandro just lazes back against the outhouse wall wearing a blank expression.
“Ok, that's just sad. Funny. But still sad.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Cameron]
“Wow. Seems a bit harsh to subject those two to this kind of competition if they have such varied disadvantages.”
Cameron pauses, his eyes widen as it seems like something clicks in his mind.
“Wait, was that what everyone thought when they first saw me on this show?”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Mickey & Jay]
The Adversity Twins are sat together, Mickey absentmindedly scratching his arm and Jay holding a tissue to his nose.
“Yeah, at first glance this doesn't look like we should be here,” Jay sniffles.
“But, that's what everyone thought about us competing on The Ridonculous Race as well,” Mickey adds on. “And look how we went then.”
“Yeah! So no matter what they can throw at us, no germs-”
Mickey freezes up at that. “Germs?”
“Bugs-” Jay continues on, not noticing his brother's reaction.
“Bugs?!” Mickey whimpers.
“-or monsters they throw our way, we'll face it head on.”
“Monsters?!” Mickey squeaks out.
“Huh?” Jay finally glances over at his brother, curled into himself with his eyes twitching and teeth chattering. “Mickey?”
“GET ME OUTTA HERE!”
Mickey runs screaming from the outhouse confessional, the view pushing out with a loud crash before panning back in with the door closing revealing Jay all on his own. The remaining twin looks blankly for a moment before his shoulders drop and he sags forwards.
“Yeah, this was a terrible idea.”
[Confessional Ends]
Chris picks himself up off the sand as he and Chef start to come down from their laughing fits.
“Boy, am I glad those two get to compete! Let's see who else we've been sent.”
He reopens the file and takes a look, quickly adopting an impressed expression.
“Well, well, well! Looks like we get a real competitor,” the file snaps shut as the host looks down the camera. “He's a professional athlete who's won gold everywhere he's gone, except for in the Olympics and in the unnamed race, it's Jacques!”
The ice skating Olympian steps out to a magnificent trumpet fanfare, blowing kisses to each side as he stands with a broad confident smile. Unsurprisingly, the champion figure skater hasn't changed much since his finale appearance, continuing to wear his pink and magenta leotard with the wool vest slung over the top. The only new addition is the pair of violet lensed sunglasses – once part of his and Josee's dark ensemble – that sit perched atop his golden pompadour.
[Outhouse Confessional – Sky]
“Oh, I remember them!” a giddy Sky says with a bounce. “They only got silver because she hit the ice right at the climax of the performance. It was a real shame, though I always thought she over-rotated and caused that mistake.”
She pauses as she furrows her brow, tilting her head ever so slightly.
“Mind you, my sister did say that they were both a nightmare to be around ... I guess not all Olympians have winning personalities.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Noah]
“And here I was thinking Alejandro was going to be my biggest nightmare,” Noah groans as he facepalms. “Silly me.”
He pulls his hand back and gives the camera a blank look.
“Well, it could be worse. It could be Josee.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jacques]
Jacques stares at his surroundings in disgust, keeping his hands up to avoid touching anything.
“After that utterly disgraceful finish to The Ridonculous Race, Josee nearly destroyed half of New York! It was a miracle we managed to get her out of there without any injuries.”
A quick clip reel of the Ice Dancers being eliminated in third place during The Ridonculous Race is played, showing Josee leaping up on top of the fountain at the chill zone before she starts to tear it apart with her bare hands. After she hurls a stone wing away, the camera cuts back to Jacques in the confessional, his arms crossed over his chest and his hands now covered in a pair of sparkly shimmering gloves.
“Still, this is my chance for redemption. Nothing will stop me from taking the gold! Anything less and Josee will throw another tantrum.
[Confessional Ends]
Jacques walks across the sand and takes his place beside Jen – the twins still missing.
Chris: “Well, if this is the entertaining competitors we're getting, I can't wait to see who our final racer is!” McLean says with a bright smile. “Ok, last but certainly not least ...”
He flips the file to the last page as he finally takes a look, only to visibly deflate.
“... Seriously?”
Chef leans across and takes a glance at the file. “Guess Don wasn't too thrilled with you throwing Leonard onto him.”
“Never mention that name again …” Chris grumbles, tacking a loud sigh on to the end. “Fine then, last and certainly least, friends with a fake wizard and just as delusional, here's Tammy …”
Tammy appears at the door to the helicopter, throwing up a handful of rose-pink confetti up in the air, to basically zero reaction or fanfare. The dedicated LARPer remains clad in her Viking inspired gear, complete with horned helmet and studded leather gauntlets. There is the addition of some markings and symbols along her otherwise bare arms, plus some also adorning her outfit – although how authentic they are remains to be seen.
[Outhouse Confessional – Sugar]
“That Chris don't know what he's saying, Leonard ain't no fake,” Sugar pouts, before adding in a grumpy mutter. “Non-magic believer ruining reality.”
As it is, it doesn't take long for her to perk up as she reacts like a lightbulb has gone off in her head.
“Hopefully the new girl knows magic too. That way she can magic me to the final round of this here pageant and the tiara I rightfully deserve.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional - Tammy]
“With the aid of my magical friend, I made sure to enchant myself and my gear to offer the protection I need to face the hardships of this adventure,” Tammy explains as she gestures a symbol drawn on her gauntlet – a shield that upon closer inspection seems quite wonky – before pointing to a three-leaf clover and a shooting star drawn onto her arm. “See? A greater enchantment of shielding, a rune of luck, and a charm of heavenly wisdom.”
She gives a confident smirk to the camera as she pulls out her sky blue ocarina.
“Coupled with a few new spells and my legendary Temporal Ocarina,” she holds aloft her 'magical artefact', “the haul of the ancient dragon's lair will be mine!”
Another handful of confetti is thrown up before she starts playing the instrument, a few off notes getting in before the camera lens cracks.
[Confessional Ends]
Tammy walks up and stands next to Jacques and Jen as they join the contestants, with the Adversity Twins joining in from the other direction – Jay sniffling into a tissue and Mickey whimpering as he scratches his arm and neck.
“Can't lie, that last one was kind of a bummer,” Chris glumly complains. “Way to end the newbies intros … Could really do with something to lift my spirits-”
He is cut off by the ringtone of his phone, the host pausing to quickly – and desperately – answer.
“Yeah, McLean here.” A pause. “Finally! It's about time!” He hangs up and turns back around. “If you'll all turn your attention to the incoming boat.”
The cast turn to see one last boat sailing in, with a couple of interns stepping forwards to the end of the docks. As the ship pulls in and sets its anchor down, the interns climb aboard the lowered gangplank.
“This to do with the first challenge?” queries Jo.
“Not quite. See, since it's been so long since we've had many of you back, the producers and myself were a little concerned that some of the drama and angst between you all would have diminished. So, we made sure to pull out all the stops to bring in contestants that could light a fire under several of you.”
Many look at Chris with confusion and a little apprehension as the camera pans across, coming to a stop on B. He shares much the same expression as the others, though he looks away as he notices Dawn's rather rigid poise as she stares at the vessel. A tap on her shoulder breaks her concentration on the craft as she turns to the silent genius, who raises an eyebrow in way of a quiet question.
“There's a presence radiating off the ship, B,” Dawn answers his unspoken question. “I sense an oppressive shroud over that vessel. As if a malign blackness is at work ...” she trails off as she squints in her reading, … and yet also faint touches of a great ache.”
Upon hearing Dawn's reading, some of the contestants around her suddenly look a lot more worried, with Chris' expression becoming all that more satisfied. At the top of the gangplank, the two interns start to wheel down a figure strapped onto a hand truck.
“Introducing the psychopathic brainiac willing to let an island blow up with everyone on it, it's Scarlett!
The interns turn the hand truck to face the contestants, with the Pahkitew Island contestants looking particularly shocked. Scarlett is strung up like Hannibal Lecter – complete with straitjacket and muzzle – her untied red hair strung out wild and glowing red eyes shooting daggers at everyone.
“What the hell?!” shouts Sky.
“What is that c**t doing here?!” Jasmine shouts, the censors quickly beeping out the particular curse that causes Chris to cringe.
“Kinda pushing the censors with that one … This isn't Australia, Jasmine.”
“I don't care! She was going to fucking kill us!”
“Yeah, man. What made you think bringing her back would be a good idea?” pipes up Shawn, backing up his girlfriend.
“Frankly, your reactions already prove how fantastic a decision it was,” Chris points out.
Everyone focuses back onto Scarlett only to see her eyes practically screaming a manic smile as she gets wheeled off to the side away from the others.
“I-Is the muzzle really necessary?” Cody stammers.
“Considering her mental state during her previous outing, I'd say it is a necessary precaution,” answers Brick in a hushed tone, though not quiet enough to avoid Jasmine's ear.
“It doesn't go far enough ...” she grumbles.
“Really?” Cody looks uncertain.
Noah leans in and whispers, “Do you think that'd stop your crazy stalker?”
Cody looks over to Sierra who is one of the few who looks rather unfazed by the situation, instead looking down on the object of her affection with adoration.
“Ok, I see the point.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Brick]
“Yes, I watched the previous seasons to gather intel. Information is the greatest weapon a soldier can have. I can't say I was prepared for how far Scarlett was willing to go for the million. Still, should she find herself looking to strike like that again, I am willing to charge into the enemy fire for the sake of my comrades.”
Brick punctuates that with a proud salute.
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Jasmine]
Jasmine is still seething as she scowls towards the camera. Her hat is unusually off her head, instead gripping the brim tightly in both hands.
“If that devil tries to hurt anyone again, I will rip her bloody head off!” she snarls, inadvertently wringing her hat in the process. Her grip loosens as she notices what it is she's doing. “Shit ...”
The Aussie lays her now somewhat crumpled hat on her long legs and tries to smooth out the creases. After a few pats and rubs she puts it back on her head, though it does sit a tad off kilter. She readjusts it with a sigh, before resting her head in her palm.
“The producers have completely lost the plot …”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Scarlett]
Scarlett remains heavily restrained in front of the confessional cam, cackling maniacally. While the muzzle does a little to muffle the sound of her laughter. Rather than trying to say anything, she just continues to cackle for the entire time the confessional runs, right up till it cuts to static.
[Confessional Ends]
The sound of footsteps walking across the dock mixed with the jangling of chains brings everyone's attention from Scarlett back to the boat. Appearing at the top of the gangplank is a greying male police officer leading forwards someone in a jumpsuit whose head is covered up with a black rag, a female officer following closely behind.
“Last, but certainly not least, the destructive delinquent and the only player in TD history to make the merge four times!” the host introduces, raising four fingers up to the camera. “Welcome back, Duncan!”
The rag is pulled off his head to reveal it is indeed the delinquent, looking a little worse for wear from his time in prison. A few cuts and small bruises litter his face, while he is also sporting an extra piercing on his ear. A rough unshaven stubble clings to his jawline, while his hair has grown out. Rather than the short cut with the green mohawk he once had, he now has a mop of black hair with tinges of green still coating his tips and the occasional streak through his mane.
The collective expression from the majority campers – particularly the original cast and the All Stars additions – is one of shock, though none more so than Courtney and Gwen as they both scream, “WHAT?!”
[Outhouse Confessional – Gwen]
“Okay, maybe I could've had a chance to finally patch things up with Courtney and move on. But Duncan?!” Gwen groans and hugs her knees, resting her head against them. “This is going to be a nightmare … “
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
Courtney can't be seen in the confessional, but can certainly be heard screaming as a cacophony of destruction is heard, the very outhouse shaking from whatever destruction she is unleashing in her emotional turmoil.
[Confessional Ends]
“What is he doing here?!” Courtney screams as she shakily points towards the delinquent.
“Yeah, weren't you in jail?” the goth adds.
“He just got put on parole,” McLean explains. “Our treat, really. Once you two were drafted, I knew we had to bring Duncan back. So we pulled a few strings.”
Duncan just stands there with his pierced eyebrow raised as the officers unlock the cuffs on his wrists and ankles, before looping up the chains. No longer restrained, he gives his wrists a little rub and twist before folding his arms across his chest, stepping past his police escort.
“Not like I'm entirely thrilled to be here either, princess.”
“Don't call me that!” his exes glower at him simultaneously, only to then look at each other in surprise. “Huh?”
Chris can't help but laugh at their reactions. “Yeah, I knew this was going to be great!”
“Uh, Chris? Isn't it dangerous to have two criminals competing on the show?” Sky asks, having raised her hand yet querying anyway. Her question gets a flat look from Duncan, while Scarlett just fixes her gaze on the gymnast.
“Already way ahead of you. But, let's all head to the campgrounds first.”
They all start to head off. Duncan looks to follow at the back of the pack, though he stops as he gets a hand on his shoulder from the male officer.
“Keep your head, alright?” he checks with a low rumbling voice. “I don't want to see you back there.”
Duncan breathes out a sigh through his nose before giving him a nod. “Don't worry, Warden. I know.”
----------
The campers follow Chris into the camp area, with a pair of interns still needing to wheel Scarlett around. They come to a stop in the space between the dining hall and three massive white tarps covering up some rather large somethings – with one being far larger than the other two.
“As you're all well aware, except maybe the five newbies, the game is the same as normal,” the host begins his explanation. “Compete in teams to complete the challengers, the winners get rewards, the losers get to send someone home at the campfire ceremony. You also get the good old comforts of Chef Hatchet's expert cooking, along with the old faithful outhouse confessional.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Duncan]
The delinquent cringes and brings an arm over his mouth as he retches.
“What, did McLean get Owen to stew in here after a truckload of beans to get this rotten stink?” he complains, waving a hand in front of his nose. “This smells worse than being in right after him and, honestly, I'd prefer that. At least I'd get to see the big guy …”
[Confessional Ends]
“But, we also have a few new amenities to make things interesting. For one, there's a couple of new confessionals dotted around the islands.”
[Kitchen Confessional – Chris]
“Such as the one here in Chef's kitchen,” he adds on, the cut working seamlessly.
McLean is standing in the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen bench-top that the camera has been placed upon. A couple of dirty pots are stacked up in the corner of the shot next to a half-filled sack – the contents of which are unknown. In the background the saloon-style doors can be seen, along with the servery window to the dining hall.
“Pros, it'll be hard for anyone to spy on you with Chef Hatchet maintaining watch over his domain. Cons, you have to contend with Chef Hatchet getting you out of his domain.”
He ducks as a large cleaver is thrown over his head, Chris looking to the side as a dull thud is heard off camera.
“See what I mean?”
Chef can be heard growling as some loud stomps sound out, with the host looking over with some fear.
“AHHH!”
Chris dives out of the way as a boiling pot is tossed at him right as the scene cuts to static.
[Confessional Ends]
“Secondly, we'll be taking a page out of World Tour and splitting you up into three teams,” McLan continues. “Not only will the losing team be sending someone home, but they'll also have to stay in the crummy old cabins from Total Drama past.”
The white tarp closest to the dining hall gets pulled off by a group of interns, revealing the old looking cabin – the doors to the two sides barely being held on the hinges.
“They will also be stuck with the communal bathrooms for any of their needs, unless they'd rather go outside.” he chuckles at that, with a few of the more self-concerned campers looking a bit grossed out. “Teams finishing second will get an upgraded accommodation – a new log cabin.”
A larger group of interns – thanks in part to the interns unveiling the original cabin joining in – pull off the tarp, revealing a well crafted and rather beautiful log cabin, sporting a solid balcony and a single door. The campers on screen all look impressed at the sight. The camera cuts inside to show a common room with two doors at the far end, a fire pit within a stone ring, a couple of tables, shelves and lounges around the fire pit and a black metal cone chimney suspended above. A voice-over of the host continues as the shot lingers.
“This log cabin comes complete with a well furnished common room leading to the two sleeping quarters which each have an ensuite.”
“The show finally decided to spend money on us?” Justin asks as the camera cuts back to the cast.
“Yeah, don't get too comfortable with that. You can thank Dakota's father for making these changes part of the deal.”
The camera focuses on the heiress as she looks down the feed with a wave. “Thanks, daddy!”
“That said, even I'm a little jealous about where the winning teams will be staying.”
They all turn to the largest surprise, where all the interns have gathered together along with Chef on his jeep. Chef drives forwards pulling along a few ropes tied to the tarp, as all the other interns pull off the tarp to show a rather luxurious cottage-style manor, three stories tall and even larger than the McLean Spa Hotel from All Stars.
“Meet the McLean Spa Deluxe Hotel! Complete with two butlers, a laundry, a ten-person hot tub and sauna, air-conditioning, a gym, 24-hour masseuses, fully kitted out kitchen and a games room, plus plenty of bedrooms. Still not quite as good as the cottage I'll be staying at, but hey. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Courtney]
“He better not be calling anything like where he stayed in All Stars a cottage!” the Type A shouts. “For the last time, it was a mansion!”
She does pause at the end of that, humming a little as she thinks.
“Maybe we could trick Duncan into blowing it up again? Get rid of two birds with one stone.”
[Confessional Switches – Outhouse Confessional – Sugar]
“Now that's the kinda place a beautiful queen like me should be stayin'!” she boasts, pointing both thumbs towards herself. “Whatever teammates I get better be good at their competin', or else I'll make sure they're gone faster than a greased pig on a mudslide.”
[Confessional Ends]
“And finally, without further ado, let's put you into your teams for the foreseeable future. If I call your name, come over and stand here by my left.”
He gestures to his left before starting to rattle off the list, the camera focusing on each individual when their name is called.
“B.” The genius gives little reaction to his name being called.
“Cody.” Cody looks a little nervous.
“Sky.” The wannabe Olympian wears a small smile.
“Amy.” She wears a haughty smirk as she runs a hand through her bangs.
“Samey.” The camera widens from Amy to then show Sammy, with the mean twin growling and stomping on her sister's foot.
“Alejandro.” The son of a diplomat gives a little wink to the camera.
“Brick.” Sergeant McArthur brings his hand up in a salute.
“Jen.” The fashionista blows a kiss.
“Sugar.” Sugar hollers and tries to blow a kiss to the camera too, though it speeds away from her before she can complete it.
“And Justin.” The male model gives a wink and a smile to the camera, his teeth bringing a bright sparkle.
They walk over together into a group, as Chris holds out a rolled up green piece of fabric.
“From here on, you are the Sacrosanct Snakes!” he reveals, throwing the fabric to Brick. It unfurls to reveal a flag containing their team logo – a coiled snake with a halo above its head radiating an aura”
“Sir, yes sir!” Brick salutes, the removed hand making the flag curl in slightly, before B steps in and holds it out straight again.
“The next group of you can come and stand by my right.”
“Shawn.” The apocalypse prepper fiddles with the hem of his beanie.
“Jay.” Jay gets a little jittery as he bites his fingernails, small cuttings of which fly away from his fingers.
“Mickey.” Jay suddenly looks relieved with the camera panning out to catch the same relief on both brothers' faces upon the announcement they'll be on the same team. The two of them share a hug before breaking apart, still keeping an arm around each other's shoulders.
“Gwen.” Gwen closes her eyes and crosses her fingers.
“Jo.” She crosses her arms and holds herself proudly.
“Lightning.” Jo's proud poise ends abruptly as she scowls at Lightning, the uber-jock glaring right back at her.
“Cameron.” Cameron looks a little nervous, that trepidation doubling as he realises Lightning has broken off of his stand-off with Jo to glare at the former bubble boy.
“Eva.” The stuntwoman rolls her eyes at the antics of her team members.
“Sierra.” Sierra looks down at her feet as the bottom of her lip quivers.
“And Scarlett.” Shawn jumps a little at Scarlett's mention, while the redhead's reaction is masked up.
Like the Snakes, they all come together in a group – Scarlett being wheeled over by interns. Sierra sends a forlorn look over towards Cody on the separate team. Chris has in his hands a rolled up gold fabric. Jay and Mikey glance around nervously at most of their teammates, specifically the jocks and Scarlett.
“From here on, you will be the Pugnacious Panthers!”
Lightning is thrown the golden flag, unfurled to reveal two panthers taking swipes at one another.
“The What Panthers?” Jo asks, looking a bit confused – though not as much as Lightning.
“Pugnacious. Meaning quick to argue or fight,” Cameron explains as he readjusts his glasses by the frame.
Shawn nods and narrows his eyes towards Scarlett. “Yeah, I can see that.” Scarlett just rolls her eyes.
“And for the rest of you; Jasmine.” The concerned Aussie looks towards her boyfriend.
“Dawn.” Like B, the moonchild barely gives any reaction.
“Tammy.” The LARPer looks over her ocarina, giving it a little shake.
“Noah.” The snarker looks fairly unimpressed.
“Courtney.” Courtney has her eyes clenched shut as she repeats a mantra to herself, trying to keep herself calm. It doesn't seem like it's working too well.
“DJ.” The gentle giant anxiously looks around him.
“Scott.” Scott frowns at the host and growls a little, though he ends up glancing in Courtney's direction and quickly looking away.
“Dakota.” Dakota gives a bright smile and a finger wave to the camera before blowing a kiss.
“Jacques.” The Olympian beams and looks down the camera, bouncing his eyebrow up enticingly.
“and Duncan.” the delinquent glowers at the host. “Bunch up now.”
They do as he says, with Courtney fixing Duncan with a look and trying to keep herself as far away from Duncan as she can. That is, until she realises she's next to Scott and moves around again. Chris has in his hands a furled up red flag.
“Your team will be the Recalcitrant Rabbits!”
DJ catches the flag and opens it up, showing off the logo as two rabbits butting heads.
“What's a re … re-recalcitrant anyway?” Dakota asks.
“Uncooperative, particularly towards discipline and authority,” Noah rattles off before looking at Chris. “Did someone buy a thesaurus or something?”
“We wanted something a bit more unusual to alliterate the animals. Plus, you can't say they don't fit, right?”
Noah looks over his own team, before giving the same observations to the other two, finally settling with a shrug. “Guess so.”
“Uh, Chris?” Courtney speaks up with her hand raised. “Is there any way that Duncan can be put on a different team? I'd rather not be on the same team as a convicted criminal!”
“Yeah, same here with Scarlett. No way do I want to be with someone who was going to kill me,” Shawn adds in, though the two named competitors don't react much to their protests – not even Duncan to the venomous stress Courtney spat his name out with.
“Why bring them back anyway?” queries Gwen. Chris opens his mouth to answer, although he gets cut off completely by Sierra.
“Drama and ratings, why else would Chris and the producers do anything?” she notes. “BTW, your reactions are just proving to them that they were correct to do so.”
“Right you are, Sierra,” McLean nods. “But, considering the considerable dangers these two could present with their destructive ways, the producers did draft up some extra special rules for them on top of the general rules for disqualification that everyone abides by. If they break any of them, they'll not only be immediately removed from the competition, but also sent straight back to whichever facility they were pulled out of.”
“And these special rules are?” Scott jumps in.
“For me to know and you to find out. Can't have anyone forcing them into breaking a rule.”
The dirt farmer snaps his fingers and grumbles to himself, “There goes that plan ...”
“Of course, maybe we could be persuaded to tell you all …” the host proposes, a lot of the campers perking up at this. “However, if we were to do that, then anyone who even remotely pressures either of them into breaking a rule – should they do so – would also be immediately eliminated. It would be quite a shame if that's how you lost out on winning five million dollars. So, anyone game?”
The ones who had perked up appear far more hesitant to take the deal now, everyone remaining silent with only a few like Courtney and Scott putting up an annoyed front.
“Suit yourself. Oh, speaking of rules, we may as well go over this now. Since we're under Canadian law, because you're all nineteen and over, you can all legally drink and consent. However, there's going to be very few opportunities for drinking out here – unless it's a challenge. So, go easy on it.”
There are a few disappointed looks from some of the cast at this, from Duncan, Jasmine and – surprisingly – Courtney in particular.
“Also, no sex outside the cabins or any applicable sleeping quarters.” the host continues. “We don't need to be cutting around that. In the quarters is fine-ish, just try not to make it a habit. We still have split quarters for a reason. Unless you don't mind having an audience there.”
Quite a lot of faces turn varying shades of red at this.
“Do we really need to go over this?” Eva questions, being one of the ones not as reactive to that in comparison.
“Legal wants me to make sure you all know. Lastly, while you are older, this brand does still attract a younger audience and still has a prime-time spot. So, while we can allow some curses and swears, try to keep it to a minimum. And that particular word you Aussies keep in your vernacular is off limits, Jasmine. You'll get away with a warning for earlier.”
[Outhouse Confessional – Jasmine]
“Honestly, it's not like I use it often. Hell, a lot of us Aussies don't. The amount of usage the 'c-word' gets depends on where you are.”
She does pause a little as she rubs the back of her neck. “Admittedly, where I'm from is a bit freer with its use than other parts, but I try not to use it. It just slipped out 'cause I was angry.”
[Confessional Ends]
“So, is everyone happy?”
A few hands still go up, notably from Courtney, Duncan and Amy, plus a couple others lost in the mass of bodies.
“Good,” Chris smiles, completely ignoring them. “Now get your things and get changed into whatever you're comfortable getting wet in. Your first challenge may look a tad familiar …”
DJ's eyes go wide as he seizes up. “No, please … Not that!”
The camera cuts to the cast standing in their respective swimwear on a beach before a lake, with a steep rise to a large cliff in the background.
“NOOOOOOOO!” the mama's boy screams, dropping to his knees and getting a delighted chuckle from McLean.
“It's good to be back,” he says before looking down the camera. “How will our campers fare with their first challenge? Will anyone go splat? Which team will fall flat? And who will be the first one to be voted off? All those answers and more next time on Total Drama: Destination Stardom!”
----------
A/N: Well, what do you think?
While it's not completely necessary right now, I will be putting in a running elimination order when they come through, plus I might also put down who voted for who. Don't think I'll go over the why in notes. If it's needed, it'll be addressed in story. Although, something that does need to be put down now, the teams:
Sacrosanct Snakes: B, Cody, Sky, Amy, Sammy, Alejandro, Brick, Jen, Sugar and Justin
Pugnacious Panthers: Shawn, Gwen, Jo, Lightning, Cameron, Jay, Mickey, Eva, Sierra and Scarlett
Recalcitrant Rabbits: Jasmine, Dawn, Noah, Courtney, DJ, Scott, Jacques, Tammy, Dakota and Duncan
Fun fact, I used a randomiser to get the teams. The idea was I would randomise it till I got close to what parameters I wanted, and then tweak it to get the rest. I ended up using the first random set I got. It was so close to being perfect. All that needed tweaking was getting Amy and Sammy on the same team (yes, I know), and that ended up splitting up Jasmine and Shawn, though both ended up on different teams to where they started. Duncan and Courtney also somehow managed to be on the same team every time I randomised the list. It was outrageous.
Another small fun fact, this was originally only going to have 24 contestants. At least until I realised I really wanted to have both Jay and Mickey in this. That then bumped it up to 27, but then looking over it I noticed I didn't really have many who stood out as early boots, so another three were added to be cannon fodder. Doesn't mean they won't have an arc, just that it may be a short one.
Anyway, like I said, feel free to let me know your thoughts, any suggestions or criticisms you may have. I'm more than happy to talk and respond to questions, though I will try to keep things spoiler-free. At the very least, I will try to ask you all one question each chapter, along with one very over-arching question per chapter. Both will be the same for this introduction; Who do you think will win? Who're you gonna root for? Who's it gonna be?
I don't currently have a schedule. I will try to get the next one out soon, though I could end up making a schedule where I go between this and one of my Pokémon fanfics (probably Forgotten But Not Gone). So please wait patiently. If nothing else, I don't think I'll manage to get chapters out quite as long as this one was; this is the longest chapter I've ever written after all.
Finally, if you're interested to see more, you can find me over on YouTube, FanFiction and AO3. FFN and AO3 are more for story upload while YouTube is me gaming, though I may go into fantasy writing/booking scenarios and possibly audio roleplays as well. Who knows? Either way, they're all under Thorongil82, so by all means check 'em out.
Anyway, that should be all for now. Until next time, folks!
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Zukka Fic Recs
after atla came back into pop culture i found myself falling back in love with zukka which resulted in me reading (almost) every zukka fic on ao3 and here are my favorites
Transference by The_Quatermasters (146k)
In a modern AU, Zuko has to deal with settling in a new school after expulsion, dealing with an angry ex and an abusive father. Maybe his new found friendships and growing closeness with Sokka will help him make it through.
Borderlines by The_Quatermasters (73k)
Three years after the war, the work still isn't quite done and the Gaang is scattered across the continents in their efforts to help the world recover. When Aang and Katara pay visit to the Fire Nation where Zuko is Fire Lord and Sokka acts as Ambassador for the Water Tribe, sparks fly between the siblings over Sokka's life choices.
Ashes Inside When You Finish Your Song by Muncaster (47k)
Sokka writes lyrics for his sister’s band. Zuko plays piano and is unnecessarily nice. Fellas, is it gay to write love songs about your friend and his golden eyes?
(AKA, a modern band AU featuring The Gaang, crappy software equipment, homoerotic lyrics, and the realization that maybe, if you think about a guy every night before you sleep, you just might be in love with him.)
sirens & sleepless nights by Satirrian (54k)
Life can be pretty hard living in a city under a totalitarian regime. Between adhering to the ridiculous curfew, keeping himself from being gunned down by a passing patrolman, and paying his unnecessary tolls to the state for, say, breathing, Sokka has his hands full just getting to work. Add aiding a resistance group on top of that, and Sokka should really be getting paid for this.
Then, one night, Sokka finds an injured patrolman collapsed in the street, who tells him with blood on his lips, “If the patrol finds me, I’m dead.”
Real Slow by surveycorpsjean (21k)
“I see.” Zuko closes the scroll. “Is the Water Tribe sending a replacement?”
“Uh yeah,” Sokka gestures to himself dramatically. “You’re looking at him.”
First by HoneyBadgerMole (20k)
Zuko has been nurturing a crush on the jock in his AP Psych class but he has been too scared to talk to him until they get paired up for a project.
the benefits of getting a flat tire by LesbeanLatte (64k)
Zuko makes an impromptu decision to run away from home after a disturbing conversation with Azula. Unfortunately, some plans are better when they're actually, well, planned. Zuko isn't counting on getting a flat tire almost as soon as he's far enough away from the city to really be in the middle of nowhere.
Sokka is immediately taken with the stranger he and his friends find stranded on the side of the road during an afternoon joy ride. However, he has no idea what he's getting involved with and a kind attempt to help a fellow teen in need turns into a massive coverup for a missing person who just so happens to be the son of the mayor of Ba Sing Se.
Azula was just trying to help her big brother - in her own way - by telling him things she thought he deserved to know. Now the situation has gotten wildly out of control. Did she enjoy seeing Zuko upset and afraid? Of course. Had she intended to endanger his life? Not necessarily, but of course, her idiot brother overreacted to everything and that's what happened and now she doesn't know how to stop the chain of events she's indirectly put in place like dominoes.
Operation Leverage by snowandfire (50k)
Sokka's instincts are onto something great. Zuko just wants to serve tea and brood in peace. Ironically, Toph is the only one who can see what's really going on.
The Stingray by Smediterranea (24k)
“You’re not carrying me.”
“I don’t mind,” the lifeguard says easily.
“I can just hop over.”
“On sand?”
Zuko will never admit it, but being carried feels pretty nice. The lifeguard sets him down and eyes him warily.
“Are you really all by yourself?” he asks in a worried tone. “No friends in town you can call to check on you?”
“No,” Zuko confirms. Tears are forming again with alarming speed; his foot throbs painfully with every passing second.
“What kind of burrito do you want?”
“You don’t have to —“ Zuko repeats.
“I’m getting al pastor. You like al pastor?”
AU: Zuko falls for Sokka, the super hot lifeguard who helps him after an unfortunate encounter with a stingray.
it's the illusion of separation by argentoswan (110k)
Sokka takes a job washing dishes at the new tea shop in town. It's a great gig, until he finds out his only coworker is his old high school bully. Sokka really should quit, but he also really needs to afford rent.
Also, Zuko is kind of hot now.
People like to think war means something by trying_to_spell_both_our_names_at_once (21k)
Sokka was the first to leave.
Somehow that hurt the most.
.
.
.
Not long after Zuko becomes Firelord, forces gather in the South and next thing he knows he's thrown into a civil war with almost no one by his side. Maybe healing is longer and more complicated than it needs to be, but with the right people by your side it is always possible.
a way that will destroy you by anothermistakemade (14k)
In the wake of Ozai's death, Zuko begins to fall apart. Sokka will do everything in his power to make sure that doesn't happen.
-
or, zuko might be losing his mind, but he also might just be really sad & traumatized
Those Who Favor Fire by CSHfic, VSfic (30k)
After a failed attempt on his life, Sokka fakes his death, dons a disguise, and infiltrates the would-be assassin's ranks in an attempt to bring them down from the inside.
Zuko learns of his husband's tragic death, mourns, and vows revenge.
Words Mean More at Night by DaisytheDoodleDog (28k)
Even ten years after the end of the war, rebellions rise and risk the balance of the nations. Sokka was willing to do anything to protect his people, which is perhaps why he's leading an army against the rebellion, attacking only as a last result. But Sokka's unwinding, it's taking a toll on him, and the only thing keeping him grounded are the letter Zuko and him exchange late in the night when no one can see the messenger hawks. But as they say, nothing's fair in love and war.
another word for wanting by eurydicees (23k)
Sokka begins to dream of his soulmate when he's eleven years old, and it just gets harder from there. Or, 125 moments soulmates share, and none of them come easy.
(In which your dreams are your soulmate's memories, and Sokka dreams of an all-consuming fire, growing and eating at his soulmate until it burns up the connection between their souls. In which they find love anyways.)
It Has Only Just Begun by Kirazalea (39k)
There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring
Zuko had now chosen the path his uncle had been trying so hard to show him; he had someone who believed in him, who maybe loved him; he was travelling with the Avatar and they apparently had a plan to end the war.
By all accounts, Zuko should be smiling.
But Uncle was gone (captured by Azula, and Zuko didn't think she would kill him, but he didn’t, couldn’t, know for sure).
The Avatar was barely breathing (he could still die at any second and there was nothing any of them could do about it).
Azula had conquered the last Earth Kingdom stronghold (all those innocent people who were now at her mercy).
It seemed like, for every step Zuko took forward, the world sent him back three more.
But he was determined to push forward anyways.
He needed to make his uncle proud, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
aka: zuko joins the gaang at the end of season 2
Nightmares and Reveries by HisMomoness (20k)
Zuko doesn't sleep because when he does, he's haunted by nightmares. Sokka worms his way into a job and makes it his mission to get Zuko to relax. Lots of head pets and one vacation to the South Pole later, Zuko might just be getting the hang of it.
Cue pining, some fluff, and eventual romance.
The One Who Stopped Time by ohhihoney (66k)
All hope was lost to Zuko until one day, his uncle asked a random person at the Jasmine Dragon to tutor his nephew. Gritting his teeth and embarrassed beyond the point of no return, Zuko gave the blue eyed boy his number.
Little did Zuko know how much Sokka would change his world.
Rubbed Off Stars by ohhihoney (2k)
Sokka wasn't going to just sit and watch the boy at the back of the bus cry while trying to rub off pride flags off his cheeks.
--------------
WIP
Ozymandias, King of Kings by Think_of_a_Wonderful_Thought (168k)
After that fateful Agni Kai, Ozai makes a different call. Branded as a traitor and banished to a prison camp, Zuko learns how cruel the Fire Nation can be to its citizens. Three years, a water tribe raid, and an unexpected meeting with a gang of over-enthusiastic idealistic children puts Zuko back in the spotlight. The revolution is coming and it wants another poster boy, but Zuko is not willing to lend his face to the cause.
Another Brother by AvocadoLove (312k)
It was a mission of revenge. There weren't supposed to be any survivors, but Chief Hakoda couldn't bring himself to kill the Fire Nation boy. Against his better judgment, he brought him home. A Zuko joins the Water Tribe story.
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BONUS : zuko x jet
Something to Hold Onto by Wildgoosery (122k)
Since the day the walls of Ba Sing Se fell, the Freedom Fighters have struggled to protect what remains of the city and its people. Jet and his second command, a mysterious boy named Li, have spent the summer piecing together an army, hoping for a chance to take the city back for good. But Li is also Zuko, and the time for that secret is quickly running out. Soon, he'll have to decide exactly who he is, what cause he's going to fight for, and where his heart lies.
#avatar: tla#avatar the last airbender#atla#zuko#atla zuko#firelord zuko#sokka#avatar sokka#atla sokka#zukka#zukka au#zukka fanfic#zukka fic recs#zuko and sokka#sokka and zuko#jet#avatar jet#jet and zuko#zuko and jet#zet#juko#avatar fanfiction#atla fanfic
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you’re a part of me
(WHAT?? Jax wrote ANOTHER fic?? THREE FICS?? in TWO WEEKS?? I know, I’m shocked too. We’re gettin closer and closer to bein a Real Fic Writer lads.) How many juke first kiss fics will you write, Jax? all of them. as many as I want. I dunno. you're an adult obsessed with a tweeny-bopper show. shut up. who even has the patience for 5 +1s in this house it's 3 +1 and only barely bc I don't know how structured fic works so it's not even separate like it's supposed to be. anyway enjoy some dumb teenagers falling in love if the dialogue is cringe sorry lol I was trying to stay in the tone of the show and may have gone a little bit too disney channel (Also if you see typos/the same adjective used twice in one sentence/paragraph, no you didn't I don't edit it makes me nervous)
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(ao3)
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'... Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.'
(3 times Julie and Luke almost kissed and 1 time they did)
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Luke is overly physical. Theoretically, Julie already knew this. She’s seen him with the boys, the way he lives in other people’s space, hanging off Reggie and lurking next to Alex, not caring where his lanky limbs or knees or elbows end up, even if it’s in other people’s ribs. He was never like that with her, too afraid of the crushing disappointment that came when she phased through his hands. But now, there isn’t the strange, tingles-up-her neck way-weird, way-wrong sensation that came when she accidentally brushed through him. So even though Julie’s used to keeping a respectful distance, Luke has thrown out any semblance of personal space. He orbits around her just as closely as the others, no longer threatened by or hyper-aware of the consequences of his proximity. Basically, he’s getting entirely too comfortable.
She notices it the first time during rehearsal, when they’re hashing out the particulars of a melody -- Luke wants it to go down, and Julie thinks it should go up. She plunks herself down at the grand piano to prove that her idea will sound better, fanning the half-finished sheet music out across the top, pointing out the measure they’re arguing over, smudged and crinkled from repeated erasings.
Luke narrows his eyes at her from across the room, his face set in his trademark (adorable) grumpy expression. “It just sounds better!” she argues. “Listen.” She puts her hands on the keys, left hand hitting the chord, right dancing over her proposed melody. “So please, keep chasing me…” she sings, building to the last word and sliding her voice over an intricate run ending in a step up. Looking up, she tilts her head, her wild hair piled into a tenuous bun, curly tendrils framing her face. Luke’s stomach does an interesting flip. “See?”
He stands up, swinging his guitar strap down across his chest before walking around her, putting his right hand over where hers had just been on the paper. He stands just behind her shoulder, sending goosebumps down her spine. “It should go down,” he insists. “It’ll flow better with the next line and then the break before the chorus makes more sense. Listen.” He puts his foot up on the bench and swings his guitar back up like it's an extension of him, playing a riff and singing the line they’re arguing about before dipping in to the next. “So please keep chasing me,” he sings, his voice gracefully stepping up and then back down, “Cause even though I’m runnin’, I know you’re the one I need.”
“You’re making it too simple!” she cries, slamming her hands down in her lap and turning to face him. She opens her mouth to continue the argument, but when she looks at him, she starts, finally realizing just how close he is. The toe of his sneaker brushes her leg, and he leans over the sheet music, closing her in against the piano. His dark eyebrows pull together, mouth slightly pinched as he concentrates, solid and strong and very much in her space. “Um --” she says.
He shrugs, shaking his head a little bit. “What,” he says, not understanding what she’s having a problem with. Julie’s eyes drop to his mouth, close and stupid kissable, and he notices the motion. The air crackles as both of them unconsciously draw closer, song forgotten, focused only on each other. Luke leans in, half an inch, and Julie’s breath hitches in her chest. This is stupid. She knows this is stupid. Luke is dead. Full ghost. Not real. Well, real, but not a viable option. He might have a physical presence now -- a very strong, very warm, very attractive physical presence -- but that doesn’t make him any more possible. And yet, here she is, pulled into him like he has his own gravitational field and she’s helpless to it. Luke licks his lips, and Julie tilts her chin up, fractional motion tiptoeing toward something irreversible and dangerous.
Just as she’s about to step over that uncrossable line, there’s an almighty crash. Both of their heads whip up in time to see Alex topple off his stool -- he’d fallen asleep as they were arguing. The noise wakes Reggie, whose head was lolling against his amp. “I didn’t do it!” he yells, flailing into sitting up straight.
Julie clears her throat and turns back to the keyboard, stretching her hands over the keys. “You’re, uh --” she says, glancing at Luke out of the corner of her eye to find him smirking in an infuriatingly adorable manner. “You’re right. It should go down.” He stands up straight, mildly surprised at his easy victory, and backs off from the piano to show Reggie the chords. They sketch out the verse and Alex adds a backing beat, the moment forgotten.
That is, until Carlos comes in to nag her to eat. Alex poofs out and Reggie dives behind his amp. Since the whole discovering-corporeality thing, they’re not totally sure if Julie’s the only one who can see them still, and they’d rather not have to explain to Julie’s dad what three teenage ‘holograms’ are doing living in his garage. Carlos delivers his message and then darts back inside, eager for dinner, and Julie stands up from the piano, gathering the half-finished song and tucking it into the folder she keeps her in-progress projects in.
Reggie emerges in a comic mess of limbs and grins at her, Alex poofing back on to his stool. “I’ll be back after dinner to finish this,” she says, hoping they don't notice the shake in her hands as she tucks the folder away. Luke pops his chin over the edge of the couch, behind which he’d taken cover.
“Hey Julie!” he calls, and she turns back to look at him. “Just remember; KISS.”
Her brain short-circuits, heart tripping over itself as she remembers his eyes on her, his shoulders and his hands and his stupid concentration face. “I, uh -- What are you --” she sputters.
A shit-eating grin spreads across Luke’s face as he puts his elbows on top of the couch and pushes himself up. “Keep it simple, stupid.”
Julie practically runs out of the garage. Alex raises an eyebrow, his gaze arcing from the door to land on Luke. “That was uh…” Luke schools his expression into one of false innocence. “Bold.” Luke rolls his eyes and brushes him off, but Reggie gives Alex a knowing look. Their friends are idiots.
It happens again one afternoon when Carlos has a baseball game and Julie has the house to herself. Or, so she thinks. She’s lazing around on the couch, avoiding her history homework spread out on the coffee table, Adventure Time babbling on the television. She’s slowly working her way through a bag of gummy bears and m&ms (her favorite candy combination), wearing an enormous hoodie that used to be her mom’s, home alone; life is fantastic. Until --
“Oh, sweet, cartoons!” Luke poofs into existence directly next to her on the couch, and she starts violently enough to shake candy into the couch cushions. Some of it lands on his chest, and he holds up a green gummy bear with a wistful expression. Julie just stares at him, still mildly in shock, definitely still annoyed, and really not in the mood to endure his moping about food when she was having a perfectly nice time by herself.
“Hey,” he says, either ignoring or unaware of what he’s just done to her heart rate and her peaceful afternoon. “You think now that I’m corporeal --” (he over-pronounces the word, having just learned it from Flynn days before) “I can eat like, regular human food?” It isn’t until he looks to her for an answer that he realizes what he’s just done. “Oh, sorry,” he says, that same stupid-ass grin settling on his face, not sorry even a little bit. “Did I spook ya?”
His glee at the pun, which he definitely stole from Reggie, sparkles in his gray-green eyes, and Julie’s heart, which had just started to recover from his sudden appearance, trips over itself one more time. Emerging from the shaken-up snowglobe of her brain, she blurts out her first thought. “You’re the worst,” she says, even while thinking the opposite.
He looks genuinely hurt for about half a second before turning the gummy bear towards her, too, and speaking for it. “You should be nice to Luke,” he says in an absurd voice. “He’s so handsome and talented!” He laughs at his own joke and pitches his voice up to continue with the bit, but she snatches the candy out of his hand and pops into her mouth, grinning. He feigns shock. “That bear could have had a family, Julie.”
“If they did, they’ll all be happy together in my stomach,” she says, eating another one to punctuate the statement. Luke laughs, and the sound has a heart-stopping melody of its own. It’s comfortable, the relationship that they’ve developed with each other. He always laughs at her jokes and is the first to offer her a compliment after rehearsal, and she loves his dorky sense of humor, even when she gives him a hard time about it. They write music and goof around, and even with the (very strong) undercurrent of romantic (she hopes) tension between them, a friendship sits comfortably on top. He’s only been in her life for a short time, but she can’t imagine it without him. Her feelings for him endanger that, so she does her best not to let it show. He asks her what she’s watching, and she explains the basic premise of the episode so that he can understand what’s going on.
She’s hyper-aware of him as they watch the show, and she envies the ease with which he occupies her space, his shoulder brushing hers, their knees occasionally bumping. He slouches all the way down on the couch, one foot kicked up on the table, turning the remote in his hands and messing with the battery cover, completely at home. (He’s always fiddling with something -- a pen, his necklace -- or bouncing his leg, or clicking a guitar pick between his teeth. It’s a habit that’s mostly adorable and only sometimes annoying.) If he notices her staring at him, he doesn’t say anything.
It takes a couple more episodes, but she finally relaxes, and the distance between them -- already spare -- vanishes, her shoulder tucked under his, her head angled toward him, their feet bumping on the table. Half her attention is on Finn and the land of Ooo, and half on the boy beside her, who doesn’t seem to give any indication that he’s thinking about this as much as she is. Luke has a way of pulling her in until she’s closer than she ever planned to be, like she can’t help but touch him. Ever since the night they played the Orpheum, he’s become magnetic, his presence a force she can’t resist. If she tilted her head down, just a fraction, it would be resting on his shoulder. What would he do? Would he shrug her off, or rest his head on hers? She watches his hands play with the remote, imagining what his strong, slender fingers would feel like laced with hers. She’s had crushes before, of course -- she liked Nick all the way from seventh grade up to this year -- but nothing so real and powerful as this.
“Don’t you think Finn sounds just like Reggie?” Luke asks, pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and -- oh.
He’s very close.
His eyes always remind her of an overcast sky, swirling with unknown depth, and they widen when they meet hers, filled with awe. Blood rushes in her ears, muting the TV, tuning out anything that isn’t him. Her heart is beating so hard and so fast she wonders peripherally if he can hear it, and then that thought fizzles out with the rest of any kind of logic when his gaze drops to her mouth. He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her!! Panic and elation and anticipation all scramble in her chest. She’s never kissed anyone before, and even though she’s never asked, she knows he probably has. What if she’s bad at it? She’s half freaking out and half telling herself to shut the hell up as he turns his entire body towards her, his hand reaching up to hold her face and --
The front door slams open, announcing Carlos and Ray. “Mija!!” her dad calls. Luke jerks back from her like he’s been burned, eyes filled with absolute terror, before he disappears.
“JULIEEEEE!!” Carlos hollers, launching himself across the living room at her and landing on her stomach, knocking the air out of her. Her arms come up around him automatically, despite all the sweat and the diamond dirt sticking to it. Feeling mildly shell shocked and like she’s been hit by a hell of a lot more than her little brother, she barely listens as Carlos and their dad babble over each other in an attempt at telling the story of Carlos’ game-winning home-base slide. She’ll be happy for him once her heart rate slows down.
Luke stays away for almost a full twenty-four hours after that particular mishap, long enough she almost asks Reggie and Alex if he talked to them about it. There’s about a thousand reasons not to, but mostly, she doesn’t know if she can even explain just what happened. She does tell Flynn, who launches into a very confusing monologue that starts with her admonishing Julie for thinking anything good can come from involving herself with a literal ghost and ends with her gushing about how many cute love songs they could write together, zero percent of which makes her feel better.
The only reason he doesn’t continue avoiding her is rehearsal, which, of course, he would never miss. She’s hoping to talk to him before they get started, but then the bus gets stuck in traffic and all of her boys are already set up with their instruments and having an impromptu jam session by the time she gets home.
“What --” she hisses as she heaves the doors shut behind her. “Did I tell you guys about playing in here without me?” Alex shrugs and apologizes, and she can’t really be mad at Reggie, at least not for long.
But Luke -- he barely looks at her, nervous fingers dancing across a complicated riff even as the other boys stop playing. It takes a second of silence before he looks up to see the rest of his band staring at him. “Oh,” he says, the phrase ending in the discordant sound of fingernails on steel strings. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”
They get started, but nothing sounds right. Luke rushes the tempo and refuses to make eye contact with anyone, spinning off into fancy riffs that have no place in the song they’re working on. Reggie keeps trying to keep up with him, tripping up Alex and frustrating Julie, and when the song grinds to a cacophonous halt for the fourth time, she stands up from the piano. Reggie takes a step back.
“What is your problem?” she practically yells, stomping over to Luke. He’s been surly and unusually stubborn, and the shift from his usual cheerful, passionate demeanor builds her own stewing anxieties to a dangerous head.
“It’s not my problem you can’t keep up,” he says, and then, after watching the words register in Julie’s expression, immediately regrets it. Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Reggie makes a very soft ‘ooooohhh’ noise under his breath.
“It’s not keeping up if you can’t hold a steady tempo,” she says, too upset over his refusal to cooperate to catch the reaction from her bandmates.
“Okay, so maybe I was rushing,” he admits, trying to walk it back. But Julie’s on a roll, and once she gets started laying into him, she very rarely lets up.
“Thank you!” she yells, the sarcasm clear in her tone. She’d been especially fond of the product so far, a song she thought embodied the perfect blend of Luke’s harder edge and her singer-songwriter roots. His sudden, uncharacteristic left turn is as much an interruption in their rehearsal as a knock to the tenuous pride she’d been building in the piece. “And what are all those riffs you’re tossing in? You have to hear how they don’t fit.”
“Oh come on,” he says, proud in his ability and therefore less willing to step down. He rolls his shoulders back and moves toward her, the challenge set in his spine. “I was shredding and you know it.” Luke is sweet and kind and silly and compassionate, but he’s also a musician, and a lead guitarist at that. His ego, though it rarely becomes an issue, is far from insubstantial.
“If you want a solo, fine!” she cries with exasperation, her hands flying through the air like they always do when she’s upset. “But you have to say something so we can give you room for it!” Her annoyance has turned down the sensitivity on her Luke-nonsense monitor, caught up enough in the trouble that she can’t see that he’s riling her up on purpose.
“What, you afraid of a little improvisation?” He’s smiling now, and his obvious glee, such a stark flip from where she thought this was going, throws off her tirade. He starts walking toward her, and his newfound physicality gives him an ability to fluster her to a much greater degree than before.
“No --” she stammers, stumbling backwards, distracted out of anger by his sparkling eyes and the power in the body approaching rapidly. “That’s not what I --” There it is again, that power he has to turn the rest of the world into radio static, her vision blurring and her hearing dulling until it’s just Luke filling up the world in front of her.
“C’mon Julie,” he says, and right now she hates his stupid smirk and the stupid way he rolls her name around in his mouth before letting it out. “you have to take risks once in a while.” She’s backed up against the piano now, her hands wrapped tight around the lid, and he’s still pushing it, strong and warm and undeniably, frustratingly male in her space.
But Julie isn’t one to let him intimidate her into silence, no matter how cute and well-muscled he may be. She takes a breath and looks him in his ridiculous sparkly eyes, poking him in his absurdly firm chest.“I am not afraid of taking risks, mister,” she says, “Let’s not forget who performed in front of her entire school to get back into the music program --”
“My idea,” he scoffs, not backing up. Why isn’t he backing up.
“Or who fronts a band of actual ghosts!” she continues, her voice increasing in volume again, and the speed of her heart tripping over itself could be from the argument or the boy who’s collarbones are less than a foot from her face. Both are entirely possible.
“Less ghost now,” he reminds her, tilting his head, his weight leaned one one leg, his hand resting on the head of his guitar, relaxed when they’re supposed to be arguing.
“You just get to poof out after we perform!” she says, only about two-thirds of her mind still focused on the fight itself, the other third completely wrapped up in the feeling of Luke in front of her. “I’m the one who has to stick around and ask questions!”
“So you’re saying you take chances,” he says, diabolically diplomatic instead of challenging. He leans forward, putting his hands on the piano behind her, caging her in with his arms. She refuses to back down again, even though his face is now inches from hers. “You’d take a leap of faith?”
“Yeah,” she says, only half-certain, because she’s not totally sure they’re still talking about music, and her heart is in the base of her throat and her stomach is somewhere around her shoes, and suddenly her hands are sweating when they definitely weren’t a minute ago. This definitely isn’t an argument about the song anymore.
“Oh yeah?” he says, and there’s the challenge again, except this one sounds more like a dare, and he’s definitely looking at her lips this time, not even trying to be subtle about it, and her hands are braced on his forearms and when did they get there? And Luke is warm and when she looks up, his eyes are on hers, and despite all that bravado and provocation there’s still a question there, and all she would have to do to answer is lift up on her toes and finally, finally press her lips against his, and --
Alex coughs. The oxygen goes out of the room like someone opened an airlock, and Julie feels herself sink, just barely, back down on her heels. The world fills back in, colors and sounds suddenly too bright, too abrasive. Tearing her eyes off Luke, she glances over his shoulder to where Reggie and Alex are, still with their instruments, watching them intently. Alex looks politely put out, his eyebrows tilted up with incredulity, like he's asking if they seriously just made him watch that. Reggie, on the other hand, hides nothing in his expression, shock and amusement there in equal parts as he glances between Alex and the two of them still tucked close against the piano, jaw askance in a surprised smile.
"Are you done?" Alex asks, in a tone that sounds less like a question. "It’s not that I mind…" he gestures between the two of them with a drumstick. "This, but like, time and place, dude." He's not talking to Julie. Luke clears his throat, appropriately chastised, but still looking smug as shit.
"Um, sorry," she mutters as he returns to his spot next to his amp.
Alex shrugs. "Not your fault," he says, "from the top?"
"Uh," she says, frozen for a moment in embarrassment and confusion. She looks to Alex, and he gives her one of his soft, kind smiles, the sort that makes her feel like everything is going to be okay. “Right, okay,” she finishes, as her hands twitch and she settles back into her body. Rushing back around to the bench, she flexes her hands over the keys, curling them into fists and then back out again when they tremble. “From the top.”
The rehearsal goes -- okay, after that. The magic is missing; therefore, while she usually feels inspired and courageous and empowered walking out of the garage, she just feels exhausted and drained. She eats dinner with her family, and her dad definitely notices that she’s uncharacteristically quiet, but saves asking about it until after Carlos is safely sequestered with his iPad. “How ya doin, kiddo?” he asks as she helps him clear up the dishes. “Everything okay?”
Julie looks at her dad with mild alarm, wondering what exactly he knows. He does his best, he really does, but it took him a while to even notice she was in a band. Not to mention, he still believes they’re holograms. “Um,” she says convincingly. “Yeah?”
He smiles kindly, in the way that means he’s very politely calling bullshit. “Alright, mija. What’s going on?”
Heaving a sigh, Julie keeps her eyes on the dishwasher she’s loading, trying her best to plan an escape route out of this conversation. “I promise, Dad,” she says, “It’s nothing.” and then, what she thinks are the magic words. “Boy stuff.”
But Ray’s been prepping for this, had conversations with Rose about it before she passed, while the cancer slowly ate her alive. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to be there for her daughter through the time in her life a girl needs her mother the most, and she wasn’t about to let him hide behind toxic masculinity and leave Julie to figure it out on her own. “Okay,” Ray says, trepidation clear in his voice but also not unwilling to approach the topic. “What’s his name?”
Julie almost drops the pot she’s scrubbing. “Does it matter?” she asks, her voice crawling up several octaves.
“Just trying to learn who is in my daughter’s life,” he answers diplomatically, sitting down at the counter to make it clear he’s not letting her out of this one easily.
“I promise, Dad,” she says, doing her best to frantically dodge the interrogation she knows is coming, regretting she brought it up at all, cursing herself for being so obvious. “It’s dumb. You don’t even know him.”
Ray nods slowly, pretending to believe her. Julie goes after the pot a little harder, because maybe if she just finishes the dishes she can go upstairs and bury herself in her bed and not have to have this conversation anymore. “It’s not that guitarist, is it?” he asks, and her spine goes stiff as a ramrod. Ray’s her dad, but he’s not blind. He’s seen the way they look at each other when they perform, the way the boy follows her around the stage like a puppy, desperate for her attention, disappointed when she jams with the other members of their band and not him. He’s an excellent musician, but Ray knows too many stories of near-legends gone sour with misdirected young love.
“No!” Julie cries immediately in an obvious lie. “Of course not!” She turns, half-laughing, explanations falling out of her mouth “We’re just friends,” she insists, lacing her fingers in front of her and nodding exaggeratedly. “Just friends. Only friends. Uh-huh. Friends. And!” she continues, gesturing widely, “he doesn’t even live here! So that… wouldn’t even make sense!” she laughs awkwardly. “So no way. That it’s him. No way it’s him.”
Ray sighs out a laugh that Julie’s too panicked to hear and leans forward on his elbows. “Alright, nina. Just be careful, okay?” She’s nodding along, edging her way towards the stairs. “You and your band…” She looks like Rose, in that hoodie that practically swallows her, hair piled messily on top of her head. Her mom was also a terrible liar, he remembers fondly. “You have something special. Don’t throw that away for a boy.”
Julie nods rapidly and then bolts, thundering up the stairs before throwing her bedroom door closed behind her and diving headfirst onto her bed, burying herself in decorative pillows. How does everyone know?? First Flynn and then Reggie and Alex and now her dad? Is she that obvious? (Um, yes.) She flops onto her back, staring up at the colorful tapestries slung across her ceiling, the string lights and posters and art. Usually, she loves her room, the feeling of her creative mind as a space she can inhabit, exploring her heart and the things she loves without having to shut out the outside world. But tonight, she feels trapped in her own head, so she grabs her notebook and squeezes out the window, perched on the roof outside her room.
The evening air is cool and crisp, the gentlest bite warning the oncoming winter, as much as there is a winter in LA. She spends a while scribbling down half-baked lyric ideas and doodling angry black scribbles around the edges of the pages when nothing comes out right. It’s harder to write on her own, now, without the steady pulse of Luke’s genius behind her, the electricity that flows between them as they create impeccable harmonies. Sometimes, it feels like music belongs to the both of them together, a joined force, like they’ve given up their individual melodies for something greater. It’s thrilling and terrifying all at once.
Eventually, she just ends up holding the notebook open to ‘Perfect Harmony’ with one hand, the other arm wrapped around her legs, her chin propped on her knees. She still hasn’t shown it to Luke, afraid of how real it feels, how clear it makes her feelings for him. Also, it’s a ballad, which they haven’t even approached yet, and she has no idea how Reggie and Alex will feel about such an explicitly romantic duet. She’s thinking that maybe she might be able to vague it up, maybe even make it a solo piece, when Luke appears next to her, like thinking about him draws him to her. (Which might actually be true -- she hasn’t examined that very closely.)
“Hey!” he says cheerfully, all awkwardness from the evening’s rehearsal ostensibly disappeared. He plucks the notebook out of her hand, using the other arm to hold back her immediate demands for its return. “New stuff?” he asks. This is not normally such a grievous invasion of privacy. Ever since they started writing together, their songwriting journals have become common property, and half the pages in hers are marked up with his handwriting and vice versa.
“It’s not ready yet!” she cries, pushing against the (stupidly strong) arm he has across her collarbone, willing to climb bodily over him to snatch the notebook back. Luke’s face very slowly falls as he reads it, the lyrics sinking in, and her protests trail off as she stops scrambling to grab it out of his hands.
He stands suddenly, pacing across the roof. “Did you --” he starts, breathing shallowly, his tongue tucking his teeth between his lips, nostrils flaring before he speaks again. “Why did you copy this out of my songbook?” It’s not accusatory, only a question, born of true confusion.
“I didn’t,” Julie replies without skipping a beat, equally baffled.
“I wrote this after the garage party,” he says. “How is it in your notebook?”
“I wrote it at school before the garage party,” she replies, doing her best to keep down the memory of the Luke in her imagination and the song coming to her fully formed in the form of a Patrick Swayze-esque daydream. She didn’t even tell Flynn about that part.
“At school…” Luke repeats, studying the lyrics with a furrow between his eyebrows, and as much as Julie is also reeling from shock at the mystery, it’s kind of adorable to watch him try and solve it. “This doesn’t make sense,” he says, looking up at her, signature grumpy expression in place. He tilts the notebook flat, like he’s presenting it to her, hoping she has the next steps. Like he’s reached his conclusion, and it’s that he’s confused.
“It doesn’t,” she says, and it comes out as half a laugh unintentionally, just looking at his ridiculous, adorable face.
“Why are you laughing?” he demands with exasperated urgency. “This is super weird!” He rushes over and collapses next to her, a mess of flannel and limbs and beautiful dumbass. He shoves the notebook back into her hands as she folds her legs underneath her, relinquishing her grip on her knees.
“Yeah,” she sighs, unable to wipe the grin from her face. “Yeah, it is.” Luke looks like he wants to ask her what she’s smiling at, but then he starts smiling, too, because her happiness is his happiness. Julie’s already past the strange coincidence, lost in the joy of his gray-green eyes and the feeling of him next to her. She’s too used to strange, to the ever-changing rules of the afterlife and the constant uncertainty that Luke and her boys bring to her life. Yes, it’s strange, but she’s in a ghost band and her crush is dead and still manages to look at her like that so she has a certain level of perspective when it comes to things like this.
“What are you --” Luke tries to say, but her eyes are on his and they’re warm and brown and kind and he’s finding it a little hard to form sentences.
“This is ridiculous,” she says, and he’s nodding without knowing what he’s agreeing to. “We wrote the same song on the same day,” she laughs, and he nods again, half-listening, half lost in her. She’s excited now, about the possibility brought on by magic and her connection -- their connection -- souls tied together with passion and music and love. “That’s impossible!” It cements something for her, the feeling of coming together, of sliding into place. They’re so solid, tight, together, on the same wavelength… musicians have put it a thousand ways throughout the years, to communicate the feeling of a co-writer, a bandmate, a partner, reading your mind, singing the next line, playing the next riff that was just in your head. Julie and Luke get the added bonus of being inexplicably spiritually linked. Nothing can break that, or replace it. She’s not scared of it, anymore.
“Impossible,” he echoes. He always feels a little bit stronger, a little more alive whenever he’s with Julie like this, just the two of them, hanging out or writing music, and he’s in her immediate proximity, soaking in the warmth of her brown skin and brown eyes and the chaotic energy of her wild, incredible hair. She pulls him in, without knowing the power she holds or the light that she emits, casting a golden glow over everything around her.
“Luke,” she says, and he tunes back in, realizing that he’s steadily leaning toward her as they sit on the roof, Julie cross-legged, Luke angled toward her, one leg stretched out, his elbow propped on his other knee. “Are you listening?”
“Um,” he swallows, “Yeah?” but he’s looking at her lips, not her eyes, and he’s thinking about kissing her, just once, just to see what she tastes like, remembering the smell of gummies and m&ms, hoping she’ll be just as sweet. She doesn’t say anything, mostly because she forgot what she was going to say in the first place, watching his eyes watch her mouth, breathing him in. He’s too close again, closer than any friend or bandmate should be, and there’s no mic between them, and the door to her room is closed, and there’s no bandmates or brothers or dads, and her heart pounds in her chest.
When she tilts her chin towards him, she feels ready, finally, knowing what he means to her. Only a breath separates them, but they both stop, waiting for the inevitable interruption, the door slamming open, or someone calling up from the yard below, but it doesn’t come. Realizing what they’re both waiting for, they breathe out a simultaneous laugh, their foreheads dropping together. The tension fades, and Julie’s smile feels uncontainable, demanding every inch of her face as this beautiful, goofy, genus, talented boy adores her while she sits there, falling in love with him.
It’s easier, this moment, than the one before, because it feels less laden with the weight of someone pulling away, unsure or unwanting. This moment is comfortable, joyful, the two of them acknowledging every minute of want and disappointment and hilarious misfortune over the past few days, acknowledging what they would have asked for instead. And when Luke finally reaches up, pulling her in gently with his hand on her neck, his thumb sliding over her jaw, it’s with confidence and tenderness, reassured that she wants this, too. Julie leans easily into the touch, and when their lips meet, the spark and rush is better than any performance, any screaming crowd drowning in lights. They kiss each other, moving together, leaning in as one, harmony made in the movement of mouths and the press of lips, and this moment -- it’s perfect.
#jatp#juke#julie and the phatoms#julie x luke#luke x julie#jatp fic#julie and the phantoms fic#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#my writing#my stuff#homebodynobody#julie molina#luke patterson
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Would You Be So Kind
@csi-baker-street-babes asked for a fluffy Logicality Human AU with a first kiss and a bit of angsty feels.
“A bit of angsty feels” means “a huge pile of angst,” right? Just clarifying.
Nah, I’m kidding. I actually used this fic as an excuse to be super soft and cliche. At heart I am just a small bean wanting to write happy love.
Also, I ended up thinking through this camp AU way too much. I might write more for it in the future. Let me know if you’re interested!
Thanks for the prompt! Reminder to everyone that I’m open to prompts! And if you want to be on my fic taglist, let me know!
You can find this fic on Ao3 here.
(Title is from Would You Be So Kind by dodie.)
Words: 4259
Pairing: romantic Logicality
Warnings: crying, rejection, repressing emotions, lying, self-deprecation, isolating oneself (but it gets fluffy again I swear), kissing
Summary: After years of pining, Patton finally asks out his crush. It...does not go as planned.
By the end of the summer, Patton Hart was going to ask out Logan Crofters.
He made that promise at the beginning of the first session, staring at the counselor schedule that announced, once again, that he’d be spending his summer side-by-side with Logan. They��d been co-counselors for three years in a row, three years that Patton had spent sneaking glances and stammering whenever Logan talked to him.
Why he kept getting paired with Logan, Patton didn’t know. Thomas said they “worked well together.“ Whether that was true or not, Patton did always have a lot more fun when Logan was around. (He also dropped a lot more things and tripped way more often, but that was okay.)
The facts were: he was going to be spending three sessions/nine weeks/fifty-six days with a very smart, very nice, very pretty man. And this year, instead of pining hopelessly, Patton was actually going to tell Logan how he felt. He was. No excuses. The time was right.
There was the itsy-bitsy fact that Patton had said that for two summers already. But this summer would be the summer! Patton knew it. Maybe he’d even ask Logan out during the first session, and they could spend the whole summer together. Thomas was okay with counselors dating each other as long as they kept things professional. They could hold hands on the hikes and sing campfire songs together and Patton could finally give him the More-Than-Friendship bracelet he’d made in Year Two of Being in Love with Logan Crofters.
(Patton was pretty sure he was in love. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t spend all school year waiting for his chance to come back to Camp Chickadee and hear Logan’s soft laugh as Patton tried to balance a spoon on the end of his nose.)
He loved Logan, and he was going to tell him. Half the camp knew about Patton’s crush, for Pete’s sake! It was only a matter of time until some well-meaning kiddo told Logan for him. Camp Chickadee might be surrounded by pine trees, but that was no excuse for Patton to keep pining.
The first session passed. Patton did not ask out Logan. He negotiated a prank war between Roman and Remus, learned a new chord on the ukelele, carved a dog, and taught Virgil how to bake blackberry pie. He signed up to lead as many activities as possible that involved Logan. Together, they led a bunch of hikes, lifeguarded together, went biking, made a catapult, and, on one memorable afternoon, crowned Turtle the dog (not to be confused with Dog the turtle, the other camp pet) Supreme Leader of All Rocks, Stones, and Boulders. Logan never objected to Patton’s company. He never asked for it either, but it was a start!
On the last day of the session, the whole camp had an hours-long mud fight, built a campfire, and sang songs together. Patton watched Logan across the fire, his eyes gleaming in the light, singing along to Yellow Submarine even though he always insisted he didn’t like to sing.
Next session, Patton told himself.
They went rafting together. They made bread together. They mastered the rope course backwards and frontwards. They wrote a story about Turtle the dog and her conquering of Asia. One camper asked if Logan and Patton were dating. Patton tried not to blush. Logan didn’t seem fazed by the question. Good sign? Bad sign? Patton didn’t know.
Before he knew it, it was the last week of session two. Patton was playing Texas hold’em with Logan, Virgil, Roman, and Remus. Janus and Thomas were leading the whole camp in a singalong by Giant’s Ridge. Patton and the other counselors were supposed to be brainstorming activities for session three, but Remus had dared Roman to beat him at cards and now here they were.
Patton frowned as he lost for the fourth time in a row. Virgil, Roman, and Logan gave him sympathetic looks. Remus cackled with delight and very little sympathy.
“Wanna play again?” Virgil asked after Remus had, once again, won the game.
“I’ll pass,” Patton said with a smile. “I’m not very good at it.”
“Practice makes progress,” Roman pointed out.
“I think I’m with Patton,” Logan agreed, placing his cards down and standing up. “We can think up some activity ideas while you play a few more rounds. You know, the thing we’re actually supposed to be doing.”
Remus rolled his eyes. “I’m just gonna lead another search for the FBI base in the woods, Virgil will hunt for Mothman again, and you’ll do something boring like knitting. You’re all really predictable.”
Roman chuckled. “And what about me?”
“Talent show.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“Still,” Patton said, “we should try to prepare stuff! Logan’s right, at least some of us should be brainstorming.”
Remus chuckled. “Of course you take his side.”
Patton tried very hard not to blush and didn’t really succeed. Fortunately, Logan didn’t seem to notice Remus’ comment. “We’ll be at the swing if you need us,” he said, giving them a nod. “Good luck, Remus.”
Amidst Roman’s offending spluttering and calls of “I thought you were on my side! Betrayal, heresy, et tu Brute” Logan and Patton walked to the swing. Patton usually lay sideways on the swinging bench, taking up more than half of it, but Logan was sitting on the other side with his hands over the side. Patton perched on the very edge of the swing and tried to put as much space between them as possible.
Then they brainstormed. Or, really, Logan brainstormed while Patton nodded along. He tried to think about activities, he really did, but Logan was right there and he moved his hands when he talked and his eyes sparkled when he thought of an idea he really liked and goodness, Patton was falling hard, wasn’t he?
“Patton!” Logan said, and Patton realized he’d been calling his name.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve hardly been paying attention.” Logan’s eyebrows drew together. “Is everything alright?”
“I...” Patton smiled. “Yeah! Of course! I’m just being spacey, is all. You know me--scatterbrained. Would forget my own head if it wasn’t on my feet!”
Logan frowned. “Your head is on your shoulders.”
“Oh, darn it! I knew I messed up something when I got dressed today!”
Logan chuckled, holding up his hand to cover the sound. Patton wished he wouldn’t. He loved that laugh, light and airy and so different than the serious image Logan always tried to show.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Logan asked again after his laughter died, and his voice was so concerned. Patton couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t! “If there’s...if you need to talk about anything with me, know that I am here to listen.”
Patton couldn’t stop his mouth from dropping open slightly. He probably looked flabbergasted, gobsmacked, and all sorts of interesting words. But he couldn’t help it! Logan was so nice! And they were making eye contact and Logan’s eyes were such a nice shade of brown...
“Patton?” Logan said again.
Oh no. He really needed to stop that.
The only way to stop it, said the voice in the back of his head that sounded kind of like Virgil, was to confess.
Patton reached into his pocket and his hands grasped the bracelet he’d made Logan last year. Blue and navy threads in the most complicated knot Patton knew, looped around a few red beads. A More-than-Friendship bracelet. A gift.
“I...” Patton swallowed. “Logan?”
“Yes?”
“I have something for you?”
He didn’t mean for it to be a question, but his voice squeaked at the end. Well. Good enough.
Logan looked confused, probably because they’d gone from a heartfelt conversation to...this. “What is it?” he finally asked.
Patton steeled his nerves and held out the bracelet.
“Another friendship bracelet?” Logan laughed a little, and Patton knew he was projecting but it sounded like such a fond laugh. “Patton, I don’t think I have room left on my arms.”
“It’s...not exactly. A friendship bracelet.” Patton shifted. His hands were all sweaty and he just wanted to bury himself in the dirt. Why did he think this was a good idea?
“Then what is it?” Logan asked. Innocent. Completely unaware of the anguish Patton was experiencing.
It wasn’t too late. He could call it a co-counselor bracelet or a best-friends bracelet or a bracelet to ward off evil spirits. He could call it anything! He could still get out of this!
But some brave, foolish part of Patton remembered that he only had a month until he wouldn’t see Logan for a whole school year. Only a month to do this. Only a month.
“It’s a...it’s an I-like-you bracelet?”
Logan blinked. “A what?”
“An I-like-you bracelet.” Patton tried to smile. “‘Cause I...I like you? Romantically? I like-like you? I have for a while now, I guess? I thought I’d...I dunno, let you know?”
His voice kept squeaking. Patton decided he’d dug his hole deep enough and shut his mouth.
“You like me,” Logan repeated, expression unreadable.
“Yes,” Patton said, bracing for an explosion. Preparing himself for Logan to yell at him, reject him, say he was creepy and he didn’t want to be friends anymore. Trying not to hope. Trying not to let himself hope. Why did he ever think Logan would like him back? Why was he that naive? Right now, sitting in the sun, his dreams of holding hands and singing songs together seemed childish, foolish, and unreachable.
“Thank you,” Logan said, “for telling me.”
Patton still couldn’t get a read on Logan. His voice was blank and his face was more so. Usually Patton could tell what Logan was feeling, even though he tried to hide it, but now? Patton was lost.
“You’re welcome?” Patton asked. Squeaking again. He was just a little mouse, wasn’t he?
Logan opened his mouth, closed it again, and slipped his hand around Patton’s. Carefully, he lowered Patton’s hand to the bench. They sat that way for a second, Logan’s hand covering Patton’s, Patton’s clenched around the bracelet.
And somewhere, beneath the panic and the doubt and the resignation, something settled. This felt right, so right, like he’d slotted together two puzzle pieces and realized what the picture was supposed to be. He was sure his hand was sweaty and gross and of course it was really awkward because Logan hadn’t actually told Patton what he thought...but they were holding hands. Kinda sorta maybe holding hands.
Then Logan’s hand slipped off Patton’s and Logan was standing up, brushing off his shirt.
“I think,” he said slowly, “it’s best if we don’t talk for a while.”
Patton felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I just think...I think it would be easier on us.” Logan cast him a sympathetic look. “I do appreciate you, Patton, as a friend. I hope you realize that.”
Oh.
Oh.
A lump was growing in Patton’s throat. No. He wouldn’t cry. Not here, not now, not ever.
“Okay,” he forced out, trying to smile.
Logan gave him a final nod and walked towards the picnic tables, where Roman and Remus and Virgil were still playing cards. Logan slipped onto the bench and they passed him some cards without hesitation. He didn’t look back at Patton. Not once.
Patton? He curled up on the bench, tucked his head between his knees, and tried his best not to cry.
But his best was never good enough.
So he ended up crying into his cargo shorts, alone on a swinging bench in the summer sun.
Third session came, and for the first time ever, Patton wished the summer was over.
He loved Camp Chickadee. He did! He loved the campers and his fellow counselors and Thomas and the beautiful woods around them. He loved choosing activities and making friends and exploring the trails around camp. He loved baking treats and counting stars and singing his favorite camp songs. He’d been going to Camp Chickadee since he was four or five. It was his favorite place in the whole wide world.
And third session wasn’t even that bad! He investigated some FBI activity in the woods with Remus and got to be a secret agent! He hunted down Mothman with Virgil and sang songs in the Talent Show with Roman and even managed to get through a carving session with Janus. Janus and him didn’t really get along, but anyone was better than Logan.
Logan, who’d barely looked at him all session.
They were still co-counselors, of course. They still managed their ragtag group of kiddos together. But they never spoke to each other unless it was professional, and whenever they could, Logan avoided Patton altogether.
Patton hated it.
Logan was his best friend. They knew each other’s middle names and favorite colors and least-favorite colors and secretest dreams. They texted occasionally throughout the school year, but somehow Patton never grew tired of Logan or found someone else in his college. Somehow he always came back to Camp Chickadee and Logan’s laugh and a place he really belonged.
And yes, Patton had a crush. And yes, Logan didn’t have to reciprocate it. Friendship wasn’t a consolation prize! He would have been disappointed if Logan didn’t like him back, but as long as they could stay friends, it would have been okay.
This, though...this was isolation from the person he cared most about. This was Logan shutting him out. This was going cold turkey on one of Patton’s most precious friendships.
Patton spent a lot of time in the camp bathroom, trying to cry as quietly as possible.
He was pathetic, really. Like a little kid back in elementary school. He still kept that bracelet in his pocket. Every day he woke up and stared at the cabin ceiling and hoped against hope that Logan would decide that they could be friends again. Every day he said hello to Logan, hoping Logan would say hello back, hoping he would smile.
Logan always just nodded and turned away, and the knife inside Patton’s heart twisted a little deeper.
The campers didn’t seem to notice the difference. Patton was still full of dad jokes and sunshine, putting up a perfectly crafted facade. Logan was still an expert on all flora and fauna, able to spot a bird from a mile away. Patton still sang every camp song he knew. Logan still recited the elements from memory. They were still the same.
Just...they couldn’t work off each other anymore. Patton couldn’t make Logan laugh with his puns, Logan couldn’t remind Patton of the lyrics he forgot, they couldn’t build off a story together or make up a game together or comfort a kiddo together. Logan was smart and logical and calm, Patton was energetic and sunny and creative. When they worked together, they could do anything. When they didn’t, they were just two different people with different ideas and different lives.
The campers didn’t notice the difference, but Patton did.
And the other counselors did.
“Are you...good?” Virgil asked when he saw Patton curled up under a tree, staring at his feet.
“Yeah, of course!”
“What’s up between you and Specs?” Roman asked after a very awkward singalong where Logan and Patton ended up sitting next to each other.
“Nothing!”
“Is everything alright with you?” Thomas asked during a camp meeting, after Patton chose to work with Janus instead of Logan. “Did something happen?”
“Of course not!” Patton smiled.
“Really? Because--”
“We’re fine, Thomas,” Logan interrupted, voice cold. “Let’s move on.”
They moved on, but Patton got many concerned glances throughout the meeting. He tried his best to field them with smiles. Nobody seemed very convinced.
“Are you mad at Logan?” asked Mia, a seven-year-old with a butterfly t-shirt and a gap between her front teeth.
“No!” Patton insisted.
And that was the truth. As much as Patton wanted to be mad at Logan, as much as he wanted to be furious, he just wasn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to even be annoyed with Logan Crofters. Maybe that made him weak. Pathetic. Soft. But that was the truth. Patton didn’t like hating anyone, and hating Logan was simply impossible.
He busied himself with tents and hikes and tried not to think about everything too hard.
And soon it was the last week of the session. And Patton was dealing with his usual oh-no-the-summer-is-almost-over-I’ll-have-to-go-back-to-college-and-study-instead-of-picking-wildflowers-with-my-adorable-kiddos sadness, but he almost felt relief. He could go back to school now. He could hang out with his school friends and maybe get a new crush and not have to think about this anymore.
Still, he would miss Virgil and Remus and Roman and Thomas and maybe Janus. They started a group chat together, but it wasn’t the same. Roman had added Logan to the group chat. Logan had immediately left. He said he just didn’t like group chats, but Patton knew what it was really about.
The last day of Camp Chickadee, it rained. Poured, in fact. The kiddos dashed to their cars in yellow and red raincoats, giggling and shoving each other in the mud. The pine trees dipped, water sloughing off the branches and splashing on the paths. The drum-drum-drum on the lodge roof was interspersed with goodbyes and hugs and a few tears. Patton wished each of his kiddos the best of luck and tried not to cry too much.
Finally it was just the counselors, standing together in the chilly, damp Lodge, looking out at the rainy woods. The campfire was soaked, the swings dripping, the air fresh and tangy with the scent of rain.
“I should go,” Logan said, getting up from the chair in the corner.
“You sure?” Virgil looked disappointed. “Can’t you hang with us a little longer?”
“I have to pack for the move,” Logan said like that made sense. “Sorry.”
Roman frowned. “You’ll be back next year, right? I don’t care if you have to drive across the country, you’re coming back.”
Logan huffed and smiled. “I’ll see, Roman.”
“You’d better.” Roman paused and leaned forward, giving Logan a huge hug. “You’re the best, nerd.”
Logan patted Roman on the back. “I enjoy your company as well. Prep.”
“Hug time!” Remus leaped onto Logan’s back. Virgil crept around sideways and squeezed Logan’s waist, and even Janus gave Logan’s shoulder a squeeze. Thomas watched them with a smile. Patton watched them without a smile. What was happening?
Finally Logan extricated himself. Thomas reached out a hand and Logan shook it.
“We’ll miss you,” Thomas said. “You’ve been a great counselor.”
“Thanks,” Logan said, giving him a small smile. “I’ve loved it here.”
Thomas nodded. He looked like he was trying not to cry. Logan reached down and swung his backpack over his shoulders before walking out the door into the rain.
The other counselors watched him go.
“Um,” Patton whispered. “Guys?”
Virgil glanced over. “Yeah, Pat?”
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Virgil looked confused. “Hey, why didn’t you say goodbye to him? I know you guys are going through a rough spot, but I thought he’d want to see you before he left.”
“But we’ll see each other next summer,” Patton said. “Right?”
Virgil’s face fell. “You mean he didn’t tell you?”
All the counselors were looking at him with sympathy. Patton didn’t know what was happening. Was Logan leaving? Where was he going? Had Patton been so terrible that he drove off Logan for good?
“He’s moving away,” Roman said softly. “He finished college last semester and he’s moving to his new job.”
“What?” The room was spinning. “What--how long have you known?”
“He told us a couple weeks ago,” Thomas added, looking at Patton with concern. “I assumed you knew as well, you’ve always been so close--”
“I--” Patton shook his head, glancing at the open door. “I--I need to--”
“Pat?” Virgil asked.
Before he could stop himself, Patton bolted out the door and into the rain.
The water immediately drenched him. His curls stuck to his face, his clothes plastered to his skin, his glasses covered with droplets. Patton fumbled with them and stuck them in his pocket. The world was blurry now, but he could see the vague shape of the driveway. As he approached, it was clearer. Logan was tossing his backpack in the trunk of his car and slamming the door, walking around to the front.
“Logan!” Patton yelled, skidding over a patch of mud and coming to a stop.
Logan turned around. He was soaked as well, rain running down his cheeks. “Patton? What--”
“You’re leaving,” Patton said.
“Oh.” Logan nodded, looking sheepish. “Yes?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well...that is to say, I--” Logan ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t want to make a huge fuss about it.”
“A fuss?” Patton repeated. “Lo, I’m never going to see you again!”
“I’m only moving,” Logan protested, “and I might be able to come back next year anyway--”
“That doesn’t matter!” Patton’s eyes were burning, and not because of the rain. “Y-you’re my friend and you’re l-leaving and I get that I messed up and made things weird and you h-hate me, and that’s okay! That’s okay! I g-get it! But I-I’ve liked you for th-three years! You’re my b-best friend and I c-care about you even if you d-don’t c-care about m-me--”
He was crying now. Damn it! Patton swiped viciously at his cheeks. At least the rain hid his tears.
“So please,” Patton said, staring at Logan, “please just let me have this, okay? P-please let me say goodbye.”
Logan’s mouth was open. “Patton, I--”
“You don’t have to say anything.” Patton leaned forward and hugged Logan quickly around the shoulders. “I-I just wanted to do that. So...yeah. Um. Good luck.”
He pulled away and turned back toward the Lodge, giving Logan a final wave. Then a hand caught his own. Patton looked down to see Logan’s hand curled in his.
“What--” Patton looked back. Logan looked about to cry. “Lo?”
“Three years?” Logan repeated. “Patton, I thought it was just a crush, I--”
“You don’t need to...” Patton tried to tug his hand out of Logan’s grip. “It’s fine, really--”
“And I turned you down,” Logan said softly. “Patton, I--I didn’t realize how much you cared--”
“You don’t have to pity me,” Patton said miserably. “I get it. I-I made things weird. It’s fine. We-we don’t have to see each other ever again if you don’t want to--”
“Patton, can I kiss you?”
Patton’s train of thought stuttered to a halt. “What?”
“I--” Logan’s eyes were wide. “I like you, Patton! I like you a lot but I was going to move and I knew I’d just be leading you on and it would never work out long-term and I probably should have just told you that instead of isolating myself from you but I’ve never been able to handle these sorts of icky complicated emotions and Patton, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how much it would affect you and--”
Patton swallowed. He wanted to pinch himself, see if he was dreaming, but the cold rain on his face told him otherwise.
Logan was rambling now, waving his hands, apologizing over and over and promising Patton that it was okay if Patton didn’t forgive him but he did really like him and Patton was funny and amazing and wonderful and deserved the world and Patton was just standing there, his hand still in Logan’s, heart filling up with joy.
And when Logan reached a pause, Patton stood up on his tippy-toes and kissed Logan.
Logan made a little squeak of surprise. But his hands wrapped around Patton’s waist and he kissed back. His wet hair dripped down Patton’s face and their mouths kept slipping out of each other’s and it was messy and cold and Patton was still crying a little bit but Logan was holding onto Patton and Patton had one hand on Logan’s cheek and another tangled in his hair and despite the cold and the rain and the circumstances Patton could just stand here forever and that would be perfectly, absolutely fine.
Finally Logan pulled away for breath, leaning his forehead on Patton’s. Patton giggled a little when he saw Logan, glasses fogged up, hair askew.
“This won’t be easy,” Logan muttered, searching Patton’s eyes. “Long-distance relationships are more complex and less likely to be successful--”
“Lo.” Patton pressed a quick kiss to Logan’s nose. “I’m willing to try if you are.”
Logan breathed and smiled wider than Patton had ever seen him. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” Patton reached into his pocket and pulled out that same blue-and-red bracelet. “Um...then, Logan Crofters, do you take me to be your lawfully wedded boyfriend?”
Logan laughed against Patton’s nose. “I do.”
Patton slipped the bracelet over Logan’s hand. “Oh no, it’s loose!”
“That’s okay.” Logan took Patton’s hand and slipped it into his so the bracelet surrounded both their wrists. “More room for us.”
Patton giggled. “Now we’re stuck together, Lo,”
Logan pressed a kiss to Patton’s hand. “Good.”
Patton giggled even more, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. He was probably blushing furiously, but he found that he didn’t care. “You’re such a softie.”
“Don’t tell anyone.”
Patton smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
And even though Logan had packing to do, they stood there for a long time, arms around each other, until the rain finally stopped and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds.
It was the end of the summer, but the beginning of something even more wonderful.
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i've never been a natural (all i do is try) (1/1)
Summary: Chloe, Aubrey, and what it means to be loved over their years together at Barden. References to side-Bechloe.
This is for @snowbritt who donated in support of @ppfandomdrive. ❤️ Your prompt was "chaubrey + smangst".
Fic title from "mirrorball" by Taylor Swift, which somehow encapsulates what I feel about Aubrey's character through PP1 and PP2 and some of PP3. Stream folklore.
Word count: 4,442
Rated M/E for some smut.
Read below or read on AO3.
* * * * *
to be forgiven
Aubrey knows what love is. Or at least—conceptually, she knows what it means in all the usual ways: being cared for, having somebody be there emotionally and physically, maybe even a serenade here and there.
Aubrey doesn’t even necessarily have high expectations, just expectations. Simple, mundane expectations because it’s what she’s been told all her life. It’s what has been instilled in her: standards, rigidity, obedience, and expectations.
And she has to live up to every one of those things or face the consequences.
She senses Chloe before she hears her adjusting into the seat next to her.
“I messed up the solo, I deserve whatever’s coming,” Aubrey says, primly adjusting her uniform collar.
“Aubrey, you didn’t mess up,” Chloe says gently.
Gentle. That’s something that Chloe has about her. It makes Aubrey envious, really, but she has no time for that. Any of that. The feelings, the envy, the gentleness.
Gentleness never got anybody anywhere.
That being said, meeting Chloe on the first day of Bellas rehearsals had been both the worst and best experience of Aubrey’s freshman year.
Scratch that. Perhaps it’s this. Or what had transpired not too long ago. A few short moments ago.
“I...I missed my cue for my solo—the solo I had to beg for. Posens don’t beg.”
Chloe shrugs. “I didn’t notice if you messed up.”
“Alice definitely noticed.”
“So?”
Aubrey doesn’t dare twist so she can face Chloe fully. The auditorium has since emptied and they are the only two, sitting right in the middle of the orchestra seating. She doesn’t want to see whatever sympathy flashes across Chloe’s face. It’s not like they’re friends, not really.
“I noticed,” Aubrey finally says quietly. A Posen would notice.
“I thought you sounded really good,” Chloe informs her. “Your voice is pretty.”
Aubrey glances up at Chloe, somewhat intimidated by the startling clear blue eyes gazing back at her without an ounce of sympathy. Simply understanding and a kindness that Aubrey has seen so rarely in her life.
“Thank you,” she manages. “But...the competition. Our performance…” She isn’t sure where she’s going with this, only that she failed and it is odd that Chloe isn’t even acknowledging that.
“I thought we sounded great. It was your first solo, Aubrey! You did amazing.”
The nauseating feeling lessens ever so slightly. “You did?”
“And so what if you think you messed up? You were so brave for taking that solo.”
There is no hint of deceit in Chloe’s eyes. Aubrey isn’t sure Chloe could be deceitful even if she tried.
“Thank you,” she whispers, allowing Chloe to reach out and hold her hand.
It is nice, knowing that she can still be a success in somebody’s eyes. It is nice, knowing that the sensation of Chloe holding her hand isn’t conditioned on her successes of failures.
Just the two of them, sitting in an empty auditorium and nowhere else to be.
* * * * *
to be cherished
When Aubrey breaks up with Howie near the end of her sophomore at Barden, she finds herself storming up to Chloe’s apartment—Chloe who hadn’t been lucky enough (or unlucky enough) to secure a spot in the Bella’s House—and breaking down in ways that would have made her parents recoil.
“That’s it,” Chloe announces after only five minutes of moping. Or at least, Aubrey’s version of moping: voraciously stuffing Chloe’s homemade cookies into her mouth. “We’re going out tonight.”
“Why?” Aubrey asks shortly. “I’m perfectly fine here.”
“You need to get over him,” Chloe responds, tugging the plate of cookies away from Aubrey’s grasp. “I know just the cure.”
“I don’t need to get over him. I already have.”
“I’m sure you have.” Chloe sighs from where she is wrapping the cookies in saran wrap. “He was a total dick to you anyway and you guys were going to break up. I’m shocked you guys didn’t break up weeks ago.”
Aubrey takes a moment to really assess her emotions on the matter. She finds that she is mostly shaken up that it wasn’t something she had anticipated. Not in the near future at least. She just kind of figured they’d kind of taper off and simply...exist in each other’s life. She hadn’t expected him to throw a wrench in her plans quite like that.
“Right,” she says slowly. “I suppose that’s where we were going anyway. I just...I’m not a fan of change, Chloe.”
Chloe reaches out to pull her hands up so they are standing in front of each other. “I know,” Chloe acknowledges quietly. “But you didn’t like him. And he treated you like crap. You deserve to be treated better.”
* * * * *
That’s how it starts without Aubrey even realizing what is happening until she is sitting across from Chloe at a nice restaurant, two weeks in a row.
This is, for all intents and purposes, Chloe treating her like a total queen.
On a date.
These are dates.
Aubrey can’t even bring herself to ask for fear of embarrassing herself in front of Chloe, even though she knows Chloe would never laugh at her or ridicule her. She has spilled so much to Chloe over the past couple of years. There is something incredibly deep and fulfilling about their friendship.
I could love you, Aubrey thinks.
At that moment, Chloe glances up at her, smiling at her through a mouthful of pasta. Her smile is playful and light, but her eyes are bright, shining with an emotion Aubrey can’t identify. Aubrey hates the notion of blurry lines—hates the idea that this could be something.
I could love you too, Chloe seems to say back. If you’d let me.
Chloe has always waited for Aubrey to make her moves—waited for Aubrey to open up. It would be, Aubrey thinks, fairly easy to let this transition into something more. But Chloe represents something so much deeper; something incredibly important to Aubrey that she doesn’t have the stomach to burrow into her own mind in order to figure out what.
“Are you going to eat your dinner?” Chloe asks, breaking Aubrey out of her solitude.
“Yeah. It’s...I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Oh. You know.”
Chloe hums, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she wraps her lips around her fork once more. “This is nice, y’know? You and me. Without the other Bellas.”
Aubrey doesn’t have the heart to tell Chloe that it is simply because they are so wildly disliked by the rest of the senior Bellas, being the only two juniors in the group. She doesn’t like it when Chloe is disheartened.
“You and me,” Aubrey echoes.
Chloe hums, something non-committal, but Aubrey doesn’t miss the way Chloe’s eyes cut to her very briefly before she gazes away again.
It is nice, saying that aloud, but Aubrey is afraid to say more because she doesn't understand the breadth of her own emotions. She can't even categorize what she's feeling, how could she possibility explain anything to Chloe?
* * * * *
Later, as Aubrey lies awake at night, she decides that she somewhat likes this state of in-between with Chloe. It doesn’t feel as daunting as she would have thought. Instead, it feels comfortable, knowing that Chloe and her seem to be on the same page, despite all the things left unspoken.
(She is wrong.)
* * * * *
to be desired
They aren’t dating. They probably never will. But this—this making out on and off—this is a new development.
It had started at a party a few weeks ago, under the shadow of drunkenness, tumbling into Chloe’s bed, arms around each other. A tangle of limbs. A mess, for all intents and purposes, but it hadn’t sent Aubrey running. Quite the opposite in fact.
And now...
“I’m—” Aubrey swallows the lump in her throat (categorically it feels like desire and panic all at once) as Chloe’s lips trail down her neck. “I’ve never done this with a girl before,” she whispers, clamping her mouth shut almost immediately after. It feels like admitting something is wrong with her—feels like admitting some kind of failure because after all, life is nothing but a binary of success and failure.
It is then that Chloe stops and ceases her ministrations to draw back and look at her with her brow furrowed. “I know,” she murmurs, sliding her hand down Aubrey’s jaw. “We talked about it,” Chloe continues, casually bringing up a conversation that been both freeing and mortifying for Aubrey. She had never known somebody like Chloe before—had never known a friend who would be so open and willing to share anecdotes about her own life without a care in the world.
Aubrey inhales shakily, willing her body to resist the temptation of Chloe’s lips against her skin, as pleasurable as ever. “No, wait—” Chloe draws back, sitting back on Aubrey’s thighs patiently at Aubrey’s protest. Somehow she manages to still look equal parts innocent and filthy with her eyes blown wide—innocently so in some respects—and with her hair in a complete disarray from Aubrey’s eager hands. Aubrey clenches her hands into her bedspread and sits up slightly to level herself with Chloe more. “I’ve just...also never really…” She clears her throat. “You know. Gotten...there.”
Chloe’s jaw slackens for a moment and she tilts her head, contemplating Aubrey’s words. “What do you mean you’ve never gotten there?”
“Chloe,” Aubrey complains.
“Okay, maybe I do know, but—” Chloe leans forward with a soft giggle. Her hair tickles Aubrey’s skin ever so gently. “Never? Not even by yourself?”
Aubrey’s face feels ridiculously hot. “I’ve...tried. A few times. Maybe a couple times I—” Words stick in her chest, unwilling to spill forward. A swell of insecurity and unspoken desires course through her.
I don’t know myself.
My own body.
I don’t know how to love myself like that.
Chloe’s eyes soften. “Aubrey,” she murmurs quietly, like she knows. Because of course, she knows. It is just so very Chloe of her—a marker of who Chloe Beale is as a person since she crashed through Aubrey’s life like a tornado over the past two years or so. Chloe has somehow known things before Aubrey has even had a chance to compartmentalize them and sift through every point at her painstakingly slow place; Chloe has somehow always been the antithesis.
Aubrey doesn’t dare say anything, too caught up in her own thoughts again, but Chloe lifts a hand to curl through her hair. If they weren’t in the position they currently find themselves, sprawled on Aubrey’s too-large bed and across Aubrey’s too-plain sheets, Aubrey could close her eyes and imagine Chloe carding her fingers through her hair on a regular movie night on the couch.
It scares her how normal this feels.
“Not even with Howie?” Chloe asks, still quiet. Still moving her fingers through Aubrey’s hair. Still sitting astride Aubrey’s thighs. Aubrey shakes her head. “Good thing you broke up with him,” Chloe comments with a smile.
That breaks some of the tension that Aubrey had felt building in her chest. She both hates and loves how comfortable she can be with Chloe—how Chloe makes things feel easy and light, like Aubrey can exist without trying so hard. Like this is how it can be. How it ought to be.
“Yeah, good thing,” Aubrey murmurs, closing her eyes when Chloe’s lips meet hers again.
“We’ll get you there,” Chloe murmurs, kissing determinedly down Aubrey’s neck and between her breasts with a destination seemingly in mind.
Aubrey believes her.
Eventually Chloe seems to settle between Aubrey’s legs—how had she gotten there?—and Aubrey feels, abstractly as she dissociates from her own body, kiss-swollen lips begin to trail over the soaked material of Aubrey’s underwear.
“Chloe,” she rasps out. “Okay—you...you don’t—” Aubrey cuts herself off with a choked gasp when Chloe kisses the fabric of the soaked material of her underwear. You don’t have to do that, is what Aubrey had wanted to say, but in a rare moment of internal conflict with her word choice, she clamps her mouth shut as Chloe’s kisses increase in their pressure and intensity, even going as far as to gently sucking at Aubrey’s clit through her underwear.
Now, all Aubrey wants to say is Never stop.
She can barely manage more than a strangled, moaning gasp—a foreign sound—when Chloe draws her head away.
“Why?” It comes out as a demand.
Chloe’s smile is positively sinful, a far cry from the usual pleasantness or playfulness found on her face. Aubrey feels dizzy from the heat coursing through her body. “Do you want me to stop?” Chloe asks. “We can stop,” Chloe promises, though she licks her lips with devastating effect. Aubrey wonders if Chloe’s lips will glisten as they do now if she were to...well. The thought remains half-complete in her mind.
“I guess…” Aubrey clears her throat going for some authority. “You don’t have to stop.”
“Oh,” Chloe drawls. “So you want me to continue?” Chloe asks, adopting a tone entirely too innocent and too willing for the situation. Aubrey clenches around nothing, entirely too wet and swollen, at the tone and Chloe’s subtle nudge at her penchant for control.
“Yes,” Aubrey murmurs.
“Okay,” Chloe hums. “I want to taste you…if that's okay with you.”
Aubrey tries to run through a list of reasons why she wouldn’t want that—tries to itemize reasons why she should tell Chloe to stop, but she can’t. She finds that she wants this so much; she wants Chloe to make her feel good and she wants to just feel good, period.
She is no longer thinking about Howie, any of her other exes, or even her own inability to make herself feel good.
Allowing herself this one pleasure will make her feel good.
The simplicity causes her to sag into her bed, gasping out a breath when, at the same time, Chloe pulls her underwear down her legs eagerly.
“Okay,” Aubrey murmurs, mostly to herself. “Okay.”
Chloe shifts forward, the movement guiding her snugly between Aubrey’s legs. Beneath Aubrey’s thighs, she feels the press of Chloe’s shoulders, shifting forward ever so slightly. But no—that isn’t what she’s supposed to be focusing on, not when Chloe and her damn tongue are as eager as the rest of her. Despite the eagerness in Chloe’s movements, there is something gentle and exploratory about it all. It feels pleasant and warm and her stomach clenches pleasurably—a far cry from the usual nauseating feeling she gets with startling regularity.
This is it, she thinks, eyes slipping shut as Chloe’s mouth moves against her, wet and soft and so, so warm. This is what it’s meant to be like—what it must mean to be wanted.
A beat.
Aubrey’s heart sinks.
She doesn’t feel anything—doesn’t feel the white-hot pleasure or the sharp sensation of desire or lust like she’s always read about in her own research. Chloe’s tongue and lips between her legs and—and—
“Oh fuck—!” She claps a hand over her mouth as Chloe’s tongues curls and slides, this time pushing upward just right. A jolt of pleasure hooks into her, somewhere in her belly, and tugs. Aubrey cries out again, this time from behind her hand, hips lurching upwards. Chloe pins her hips down with sure, deft hands. The strength of Chloe’s hold on her only makes her wetter even though she had thought that impossible.
Oh.
This is what it feels like to be wanted.
Between her legs, Chloe grins. Aubrey can fucking feel it.
We’ll get you there, is what Chloe had said.
Aubrey believes her.
Chloe has, after all, never given Aubrey any reason to not believe her.
* * * * *
Touching Chloe in return is an experience on its own. It is incredible and satisfying and all the words that Aubrey has yet to learn. An enviable vocabulary and she has nothing on the tip of her tongue to describe what it means to be so breathless after having Chloe come apart at her hands.
Chloe’s soft voice, ever soothing, guiding her as she learns Chloe’s body inside and out.
“Right there,” Chloe murmurs, like she is telling Aubrey the time. Her hand, wrapped around Aubrey’s wrist, guides Aubrey’s hand against slick, wet folds and an insistent, stiff clit. It makes Aubrey inhale sharply, knowing that she is touching Chloe so intimately—another woman!—and yet, she feels like she can’t imagine herself doing anything else.
“Here,” Aubrey echoes, rubbing the pads of her fingers gently against Chloe’s stimulated center. A soft moan escapes her when she dips her fingers inside Chloe ever so slightly, feeling Chloe tense beneath her immediately, like she is trying to pull Aubrey in deeper. The thought makes her hot and wet all over again and she shifts, biting her lip as she hovers over a shockingly quiet and docile Chloe Beale.
Chloe says nothing. She nods, pulling Aubrey in for a searing kiss that makes Aubrey feel like she has been doing this for years.
* * * * *
to be loved
The summer before senior year is a lot.
Aubrey watches Chloe sip leisurely at her margarita, eyes hidden by dark sunglasses. She finds that she hates when Chloe hides her eyes like this when she can’t see the swirl of emotions behind Chloe’s eyes.
“Are you ready for our senior year?” Chloe asks suddenly, putting her drink down.
“I am.”
For a long moment, Chloe doesn’t respond. It is enough of a pause for Aubrey to turn and face Chloe completely because it is so unlike Chloe to not have a response.
“Chloe?”
“I’m...yeah. It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about the Bellas.”
Aubrey is sure that Chloe knows that she hadn’t been thinking about anything else except the Bellas since the end of their last competition. And Puke Gate. She represses a shudder. “Right,” she says slowly. “About what?”
“Just that it’s our last year together,” Chloe replies simply. “I’m thinking about missing you. And just...not being together all the time.”
Aubrey is sure that Chloe isn’t necessarily referring to their loosely-defined Friends With Benefits arrangement (though, Aubrey thinks, it wouldn’t be so loosely-defined if she had just drafted up that contract she had in mind), but it’s the first thing that comes to mind regardless. As with most things having to do with Chloe and sex, a full-body flush immediately rushes through her and she does everything in her power to school her face into one of neutrality as to not alert Chloe to her thoughts.
Still, Aubrey feels affection and tenderness from the woman in front of her. Over their time together at Barden, she has come to know Chloe so intimately and so thoroughly that she can hardly imagine being apart from her as well.
“I get it,” she manages to say. A litany of words—more words, always, somehow—threaten to spill from her lips, but she represses it, afraid of what it would mean to finally, fully wear her heart on her sleeve. “But that just means we have to give it our all, doesn’t it?”
At that, Chloe smiles. “Right. We’re going to be aca-awesome.”
Chloe’s consistent attempts to combine “aca” into their terminology had been something that had made Aubrey laugh at first, not taking it seriously. And Chloe had continued to say it, with the intent of making Aubrey laugh. But now, it is something of an inside-joke between them, neither serious nor a joke. Just something for them, as co-captains. Co-leaders.
Partners.
“Aca-awesome,” Aubrey echoes. “We are, aren’t we?”
The way Chloe gazes at her then, like she thinks Aubrey can do anything in the world...that alone nearly makes Aubrey’s emotional padlock completely fall off her heart, but she grabs at the shackles in a moment of desperation.
The issue between her and Chloe is that neither of them is willing to push each other to that extreme limit—at least not in terms of matters of the heart. Chloe is too gentle with her. Aubrey is too reserved.
Too afraid.
Even though Chloe makes her feel more than she’s ever allowed herself to feel in the past two decades of her life.
* * * * *
It is just so much more efficient to put actions to work when words fail. That is something that Aubrey has learned from Chloe herself. Even as she pulls Chloe into her arms, both of them vying for dominance over the other as they stumble through the darkness of Aubrey’s bedroom.
Nights like these always start and end the same way. She and Chloe have gotten efficient, for lack of a better word, at their arrangement.
Except tonight, something feels slightly different. Not quite off, but not quite what Aubrey’s used to, at least with them. Even with all her incessant planning and thinking, she hadn’t foreseen this.
Tonight, it’s different.
Tonight, it’s short, and intense. It leaves them both incredibly sated, both embarrassingly wet and ready for each other as soon as they tumble on the bed, naked. Even with Chloe’s fingers pressed inside her, Aubrey scrambles for more—so much more—grappling with the heaviness of her own emotions. On the cusp of everything, Aubrey tumbles and the experience, breathlessly crying out Chloe’s name, leaves Aubrey stunned into somewhat of a shocked silence. Belatedly, she feels Chloe shuddering against her as she comes around Aubrey’s fingers as well, a soft cry escaping her lips. The jerk of Chloe’s hips against Aubrey’s hand almost sends them both tumbling from her bed, from where they had been lying too close to the edge.
Somewhere, in the recesses of her mind, Aubrey thinks that they had been loud. And even more belatedly, was that a soreness in her throat? She needs to remember to get tea and honey for herself and Chloe as soon as possible.
Together, they lie, pressed against each other. Aubrey enjoys the sensation of Chloe’s fingers drumming a slow, uneven rhythm against her shoulder, a reminder that they remain connected even by music.
Chloe sighs, somewhat happily. Somewhat morosely. “Aca-amazing,” she whispers, breath hot against Aubrey’s neck.
The brief silence that follows is enough of a space for both their walls to come crashing down. Aubrey bursts into laughter first—true and real giggles leaving her lips—followed quickly by Chloe. Despite the breathlessness in her chest, Aubrey feels calm.
“Aubrey?”
Never mind that. Chloe sounds entirely too nervous for this to be anything good, but Aubrey knows she is powerless to resist whatever Chloe wants to ask of her.
“Yes?”
Aubrey steels herself for whatever question Chloe might throw at her; Aubrey steels herself for whatever the question might hold for their future together. She settles somewhere between being ready and terrified, not too unlike how she feels whenever she performs.
For so long she hadn’t known whose court the ball was in. Now, she might get the chance—now she might—
“It’s…nothing.”
With that, Chloe rolls over and falls asleep rather quickly, leaving Aubrey to stare at the dark ceiling, wondering if the ball had been in her court all along and she had simply failed to do anything about it.
* * * * *
(But what would that conversation have even gone like? Aubrey imagines a thousand possibilities, each ending the same way.
“What do you want this to mean?” Chloe would have asked. Or some variation.
No matter the variable, no matter the input, Aubrey can only compute the same answer: “You,” is what she longs to say. Longed to say. Longed to have said.
The worst part is that she knows that she never would have said it even if Chloe had been asking the same question for the better part of three years together...in every sense of the word.
She tastes the word on her lips, saying it aloud to herself when she lies alone in her bedroom. You.
An entire world of possibilities.)
* * * * *
Beca Mitchell.
She’s...she’s something, Aubrey can admit that much.
So much possibility rolled into one person.
Aubrey wonders which parts of Beca appeal to Chloe the most.
Aubrey wonders if Beca’s smugness has anything to do with the fact that Chloe looks at her and sees an entire world that she hadn’t known existed before Beca strolled lazily into their lives. It is so easy to identify because it’s all Aubrey can see when she looks at the crumbling pieces of her and Chloe’s world in her own hands.
* * * * *
to have loved and lost
Aubrey is not an eavesdropper. In fact, she has learned over time that she would really rather not hear some of the things she’s heard. Some classified, some just...the Bellas at their best and worst.
This probably falls somewhere between the two.
Aubrey pauses. She shifts the spare blankets to her other hand as she catches the tail end of soft murmurs from the lounge area for Lodge guests.
“—wish you told me.”
She recognizes Chloe’s voice immediately and draws closer on instinct. She already knows who Chloe is with even if she hasn’t fully heard another voice. Her assumption is confirmed when she hears a long drawn-out sigh that can only belong to one Beca Mitchell, somehow managing to imbue a sigh with the very slightest hint of sarcasm.
Aubrey closes her eyes. She knows she’s being unfair to Beca. It’s not that she doesn’t like Beca. She likes her very much, in fact. She respects her a lot.
“I wanted to tell you,” Beca finally says. “You know I want to tell you.”
“Anything in particular?” Aubrey’s chest seizes at the flirty, playful tone to Chloe’s voice. She should go. She should.
“Um.” Beca exhales. “Everything.” Her voice has a strange tone to it. Soft and uneven. Low. Quiet. “You know...about the internship,” she adds hastily. “But also…”
“Beca,” Chloe responds. “Of course.”
“I just get so…”
“I know, Bec.”
“There is um, something else.”
Aubrey suddenly feels like she is intruding on something intimate, but she cannot bear to draw away. She tells herself that it is because she’s looking out for Chloe, even after all these years. Even after years of drifting apart.
She just wants to be right.
“What is it?” Chloe asks. Aubrey closes her eyes. She hates the tenderness in Chloe’s tone—the sheer gentleness that afflicts Chloe’s voice whenever she talks to Beca. Whenever she so much as talks about Beca.
“It’s you,” Beca says, so quietly that Aubrey has to strain to hear it. "It has always been you."
Aubrey does not hear Chloe's response.
fin.
#chaubrey#pitch perfect#pp fandom drive#pitch perfect fandom drive#chloe beale#aubrey posen#mine#my fanfic#queue
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Ch. 2 - Three’s Company
Summary: Isobel's plan is to play matchmaker. Too bad the two she's trying to bring back together, are now playing with her love life instead.
A/N: This is the second chapter of my fic Legend. It’s a post-canon fic. Also, I bet you're not the least bit surprised Malex made it into this fic, because I'm not. I'm looking forward to writing their story in the background through other's POV, while Isobel finds her way to love. Here’s hoping they all find their way to their soulmates.
Read the entire fic on ao3
***
“Stop laughing, Michael."
"No, no, it's great, really," Michael snorted as he sipped his beer. "So...when did it all start?"
Isobel rolled her eyes at her alien sib and sighed, "Back in high school."
That only made Michael chuckle more. "Oh, yes, those high school loves."
"You'd know a thing or two about falling for a Manes man in high school, wouldn't you?"
That shut him up.
Michael sighed with a somber look, "You're right. What is it about them? It's like they put a spell on us or something."
"I suppose so," she nodded and took a sip of her wine. "We're the aliens; we're supposed to be the charmers."
Michael wiggled his eyebrows, up-and-down, "Who says we're not?"
"Well, why don't you go test it on that human over there then?"
He turned to look where she was pointing, right at Alex Manes.
Turning away and taking a big sip of his drink, he shook his head. "Nah, Alex is dating someone else."
"Right now."
Michael looked up at her and gave her one of his famous exasperated expressions. "Right now," he repeated in a monotone manner. "I'm going to respect that."
"Very gallant of you, dear brother, let's test out your noble notions...shall we?"
"Wait. What?"
Isobel looked towards Alex, "Hey Alex! Over here."
Alex looked over and waved with a smile. She motioned for him to come over, and he put a finger up as he ordered a drink first.
"What the hell are you doin', Iz?" Michael growled, trying to hush her up. He should know better by now. Making her move on Gregory wasn't the only thing to do on her check-list; the other was getting these two cosmic love-sick puppies back together. If she had to pull in Valenti for support, she would.
"It's about time you two work on the foundation of your friendship, and I'm going to help you both." While Michael shook his head, Alex made his way over, with a small noticeable limp. "Well, hello there, Alex!"
"Hi guys," Alex replied with a grin. He looked over at Michael, and of course, Isobel noticed how their eyes lingered on each other. Perfect. It was already in the bag.
"Won't you join us?"
"He probably has plans already, Isobel," Michael said, raising an eyebrow.
Alex shrugged, "Actually not till later. I was just coming by to grab a drink while I write."
"Ooo! More lyrics?" Isobel replied with a clap, moving over so Alex could squeeze next to her in the tiny booth.
"Yup," Alex said as he sat down. "Guess I'm feeling inspired ever since I did mic night."
Shoot. The elephant in the room. Michael had left after seeing Forrest, and Isobel knew it caused him great pain. After that night, Michael had told her he had regretted walking away, but he wanted a fresh start. In the weeks that followed, he was trying to heal and better himself. She was proud of Michael. But she understood having a fresh start with someone. It just hurt her to see her Michael in so much pain.
Something all the aliens excelled with having.
But maybe she could do some damage control along the way. "That's wonderful. You were amazing by the way," she said. Isobel pointed to Michael, "We both thought so."
"And here I thought you didn't like it," Alex replied with a sheepish grin. She noticed he was looking right at Michael.
"It was great, Alex, really," Michael took another big chug of his drink, "We, uh, unfortunately, couldn't stay long. Had to help Max with something."
This wasn't a lie, but internally, Isobel groaned but nodded on the outside, attempting to have Michael's back.
Step 1: Get these two to communicate.
Alex's eyes widened, and Isobel knew he didn't buy it. But Alex was too lovely to dispute it right then, "Ah. Gotcha."
Michael stood up, obviously wanting to escape the awkwardness, "I'm going to go get another drink. Do either of you want anything?"
"Another red, please," Isobel replied, pointing to her empty wine glass. Alex shook his head.
As Michael walked away, Isobel touched Alex's arm slightly, "He did love the song, Alex. I promise."
"Thanks for the reassurance," Alex said, taking a sip of his drink. "I can never tell with him." He laughed without humor, "There was a time I thought I knew him better than I knew myself." Alex shook his head, "Funny how things turn out, huh?"
She thought about her life for a moment and nodded, "I'll say." Isobel patted him on the back, "Just give him some time."
"I've got all the time in the world."
Isobel nodded, wishing they both could work it out now. She had such hope for them. "How are you with everything else? Your dad...."
"Um," Alex cleared his throat, "honestly, it's weird, the entire situation. Just going through the motions, I guess. At first, it was almost a relief, but now it just feels off. I feel angry...."
"That he's gone?"
"No," Alex said, shaking his head, "that people never got to see the real Jesse Manes. He went out a hero, and that's not right. Not after all the shit that he's done. What he did to Michael. Caulfield. All of it."
"It's frustrating," she agreed. "In a way, I know how you feel."
"Really?" He looked at her with a soft expression, one he excelled at making.
She nodded, "Noah." Isobel shuddered at the memory, and Alex, bless his heart, grabbed her hand softly. "Everyone thought he was such a gift when he was anything but that. He was a monster, who manipulated me from when I was a child, as you know. But the world will never know what he was."
"Exactly," Alex murmured. "That's exactly it."
Isobel smiled gently, "At least we're not alone in this." She nudged his shoulder, and he smiled, nudging her back.
For the first time, she felt genuinely connected to Alex Manes. His amazing heart was comforting to be around; she understood why Michael loved him in the way he did. Isobel was going to start hanging around the guy more often.
As they sat there, a nagging thought wanted to surface so severely that she just went ahead and asked it, "Um, how's Gregory doing with it?" The guy, after all, had been the one who pulled the trigger.
"Greg is...dealing with it. But honestly, I don't think he regrets it." Alex looked over towards Michael as the alien was making his way back over, drinks in hand. "He was saving our lives."
"It was very heroic," Isobel agreed, her chest warming from the thought of it.
"What's heroic?" Michael asked as he set the drinks down and hurried back into the booth.
"We were just talking about Greg and how he defended us against my old man—once and for all."
After Michael observed Alex's expression, he made the conversation lighter in only a way he could. "Remind me to send that fruit basket to him."
They all laughed and gave cheers with their glasses.
"Speaking of Gregory," Michael added with a mischievous grin, "next time you should invite him out with us, Alex."
Isobel's head shot up, and she gave a warning glance to Michael, who winked back mouthing payback.
"Oh yea, sure, why not?" Alex said with a nod. "I'm sure he'd enjoy that."
"I know Isobel would."
Isobel kicked Michael under the table, who then grunted, but Alex made a curious expression and looked over at her, "Are you and Gregory close?"
"Well—"
"She wants to be," Michael laughed, running a hand through his curls.
"Michael, you can shut up at any time," Isobel retorted. Usually, she didn't feel embarrassed, but it was Gregory Manes, after all. He wasn't just someone; he was that something special that got away.
A small grin formed on Alex's face as the wheels starting turning, "Interesting... Okay, well, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. That's for sure."
"Let's not make it a big deal or anything," Isobel scoffed, as she waved a hand through the air. "He's just a nice guy, and coming from this town, it's hard to find one of those. For example, look at this one," She pointed towards Michael, and Alex laughed, clearly understanding what she meant.
"Oh, you know you love me, Iz," Michael innocently said as he batted his eyes, reaching for her hand.
She moved it away and shook her head.
"Listen, don't be embarrassed!" Alex interrupted, "As I said, it wouldn't be the worst thing, because I know that Greg would also enjoy your company."
Isobel looked at him, calmly, "And why might you say that?"
Alex shrugged casually and took a sip from his drink, "I don't know, maybe because you were all he talked about in high school." Isobel's eyes went wide, and Michael's mouth fell open playfully. "Oh, and he might've gotten a bit excited on the phone when I told him that Isobel Evans was joining us at the reservation that day."
"Wow," Isobel said as her cheeks grew hot, "I'm not sure what to say."
"I think you do know what to say," Michael answered, tapping her phone. "It's been a long time coming."
"Here, let me give you his number," Alex added with a wink. "What's the worst that could happen?"
How was it that these two were somehow now helping with her love life? She was supposed to be helping them.
As she looked down at her phone, Isobel didn't want to think of all the ways this could blow up in her face, but instead, all the possibilities it could present.
#belmanes#belmanes fic#gregory x isobel#malex#malex fic#isobel evans#michael guerin#alex manes#finding their way back to each other while helping isobel find loove#roswell new mexico#mention of forlex#alex is dating him...probably not for long#mention of jesse manes#tw: mention of death
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Founding Friendships on Sleep Deprivation (FMA oneshot)
“He should escort them back to the local law enforcement and have them check for any hidden weapons or breaks in national security. It’s not like he felt any danger coming from the boys (despite one wearing a suit of armor and the other having thrown him twenty feet with his alchemy), but still, it was protocol.
He was, however, tired. It was two am and the train was running six hours late with no other explanation than animals getting in the way. There was no way Jean was risking the chance of the train arriving during his absence. Not when he’d stayed up so late waiting for it. No, he could just bring the boys to Mustang and let him handle it.”
***
So this is the last of my already posted oneshots on AO3 and FanfictionNet. It’s an Ed and Al meet Havoc fic so maybe not your cup of tea, but totally worth the read (IMO and I’m biased, but...)
***
“So, you trying to stick it out too?”
A head of blonde hair swiveled to the right, resting uncertain gold eyes on his person. Whatever the kid was looking for, he must have found, because a surprisingly pleasant smile worked its way across his face.
“Ahhh, well it’s not like I have much else to do.”
Jean Havoc took the answer with a nod. “Same, kid. Same.” The kid’s mouth made a pinched frown at that, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a loud, contagious yawn.
Noticing his little friend’s fatigue, Jean asked, “Are you sure that you’re up for the task? It looks like you could fall asleep standing up.”
A new kind of determination flashed in his eyes, and an arm made its way up to wipe the sleep off his face, illuminated by the lamplight. “I’m fine. I’ve spent multiple all-nighters studying alchemy with my brother, so this’ll be a piece of cake. Besides, if I fell asleep now, he’d have no one to keep him company.” The blonde boy gestured to a suit of armor hanging behind him (Jean had certainly noted the decoration as bizarre when he’d first set his eyes on it), but he looked around a little and couldn’t see the mentioned brother.
“Uhhh, kid, I don’t want to alarm you, but we’re just about the only people in sight. Unless, of course, you count that old couple dozing off on the station steps.”
A metallic shrieking caught his attention, and he was filled with terror concern as the previously-thought-motionless suit of armor came to life. Jean was a trained man of the military, however, and was able to quickly maneuver the kid behind him and pull out his gun. “Stay down!” he shouted.
A small squeaking noise reverberated through the metal and if he didn’t know better, Jean would say that it was hollow. “Don’t move.”
The armor stayed still, but it didn’t stay quiet. “Wait, don’t shoot!” it pleaded, “I’m not going to do anything!” The voice was so young and innocent-sounding that Jean had to do a double take. It sounded like a child was inside.
“I’m going to need you to step out of the armor, sir,” he said, a lot calmer than he felt. He loosened his stance a little, but remained vigilant.
This was a mistake.
A bright light flashed throughout the empty station and Jean found himself catapulted into the air. He landed with a loud “omph”, feeling the air leave his lungs.
The lieutenant looked up to find the kid directly in front of the armor and scrambled onto his arms, panic overtaking him. Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Get out of the way! Jean’s hearing, however, came back to him and the command died on his lips.
Was the armor… scolding the boy?
“Brother! That was unnecessary and you know it! He could have gotten seriously hu-” The helmet shifted its attention to him. Surprisingly gentle gauntlets gripped his forearms, followed by a soft, “Are you all right?” and hefted the man up.
Jean looked at the hulking form in both awe and confusion. Before he could get a word out, however, the armor continued its speech. “I am sooo sorry for my brother’s actions. You just surprised us.”
The blonde haired kid let out a groan. “Al, are you kidding me? He pulled a gun on you! Of course I had to do something. He should be grateful that he isn’t unconscious already.”
“What if you seriously hurt him?”
“What if he seriously hurt you?”
“He couldn’t, and you know it, brother.”
Jean stood awkwardly as he watched the two argue. A small sense of duty had his hand itching towards his holster when he realized that he lost his gun in the fall. It was a miracle that it didn’t go off when it made contact with the ground.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t change the fact that mister trigger happy over here had a gun. What’s a civilian like you even have a gun for in the first place?” Jean was about to correct him when he caught sight of his sleeve.
His brown sleeve.
He sheepishly raised a hand to his hair. “Ah, sorry about that, but I’m actually part of Eastern Command. I’m just off duty for now.”
The kid looked disbelieving at him. “And I’m supposed to believe that Eastern Command just allows their soldiers to carry guns around off duty.”
“Well, actually…” Jean didn’t really know how to explain that: No, they weren’t, but his commanding officer needed a favor that couldn’t exactly be tracked by the people up top.
Luckily, he was saved by the sweet tone of the suit of armor, who he was starting to see as some kind of angel in disguise. “Brother, you shouldn’t ask questions like that. It’s rude.”
This was quickly looking like it was gonna become another argument so Jean stepped in before any shouting began. “Ahhhh, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m guessing that you two are brothers?”
He was answered with one polite “yes sir” and a dismissive “of course”. You can guess who.
“So, uhhh, mister…”
“Havoc, Jean Havoc,” he filled in.
“...mister Havoc... I’m Alphonse Elric, by the way, and this is my brother, Edward.” The other brother waved curtly. “Anyways, if you don’t mind me asking-”
“Ugh, Al, you’re taking forever. Just skip with the bullshit formalities already. We want to know what exactly you were doing on your break.”
“Ed! That’s not what I wanted to know.”
Jean felt his lips twitch up into a grin. He had just met them and he liked both brothers already.
“Yeah? Well, it’s what I want to know and you were taking too long. So, explain.”
“Hey, what if I’m not comfortable sharing?” Edward looked at him with a deadpan expression, silently calling out his bull. “Ok, fine. I was out getting-” Jean stopped, realizing just now how young the kid was. “Dinner with a lovely lady.”
The kid, unassuming perceptive, stated, “You’re lying. What were you really doing?”
“My own business kid. You don’t need to know.” He paused. “Think about, I doubt you’ll tell me the truth as to why your brother is wearing that suit of armor, so I won’t bother asking.”
A shocked look spread across the tan face and the armor besides him froze. Alphonse’s small voice spoke, “Wow, you mean you’re really not gonna ask?” Jean nodded. “Most people usually ask me about it the first time I see them so it’s just… really nice that you won’t.”
“Yeah, most people don’t hesitate to ask. It’s actually weird that you won’t. Especially since you brought it up,” Edward’s suspicious voice cut in.
“Well, I’m not going to lie, it’s not that I’m not curious, but I think it’s fair, considering I won’t answer your question. Though my brain is thinking all kinds of odd explanations: a costume party, a weightlifting method, some bad sun sensitivity... Besides, as long as you step out of the armor, I don’t see a problem.”
The boys exchanged paranoid looks. Or at least the blonde did. The other one looked behind his brother and actually stepped behind him. “We can’t do that!” they argued in unison.
Jean whistled, moving his hands to form the universal surrender sign. “I’m going to need a plausible explanation, boys.”
He watched them struggle for a bit before they strung together a few sentences.
“We can’t-”
“Because-”
“I need it-”
“To breathe.”
“It’s for life support?” The last part was squeaked out, and Jean could tell that it was a lie even without the prepubescent voice cracks. He should escort them back to the local law enforcement and have them check for any hidden weapons or breaks in national security. It’s not like he felt any danger coming from the boys (despite one wearing a suit of armor and the other having thrown him twenty feet with his alchemy), but still, it was protocol.
He was, however, tired. It was two am and the train was running six hours late with no other explanation than animals getting in the way. There was no way Jean was risking the chance of the train arriving during his absence. Not when he’d stayed up so late waiting for it. No, he could just bring the boys to Mustang and let him handle it.
“Okay,” he relented.
“Really?” The boys were both surprised at the outcome and if that wasn’t telling of how bad the lie was...
It’ll be Roy’s problem. You can’t blame a man with zero hours of sleep.
“Yeah, really. I just need to take you to East Headquarters, before I send you on your merry way.”
“Oh that’s great!” The actual relief in the metal voice was a surprise. Come to think of it, the grumpier kid looked pretty relieved as well.
“It is?” he asked.
“Yeah! Brother and I needed to get there anyways. We need to meet with someone before he takes the State Alchemist Exam. But, well, we haven’t been there before so we don’t exactly know the way.”
“Hold up. Did you just say the state alchemist exam? You do know that you need to be like seventeen to take it. If a ten year old shows up, I’m pretty sure that they’ll kick you out right away.”
“Hey! Who’re you calling so short that he can be mistaken for a baby in diapers!”
“That's not- what?”
“Sorry mister Havoc,” if a suit of armor could be blushing, it would, “but Ed gets really sensitive about his height. Anyways, yeah, we need to see someone to get the recommendations to take the exam.”
Jean looked cautiously at the other, practically mirroring a rabid dog in his anger. And earlier he’d been scared of Alphonse? “Right, well, best of luck to you, but I doubt the military will be willing to change its rules due to a single recommendation.”
“What rules?” Edward questioned.
“You know, age limitations and stuff.” Jean felt really awkward. He didn’t want to crush the kid’s dreams, but it was better this way than letting him find out when he got there. Kids were better off spending their days having fun while they lasted, only dreaming of dangerous adventures, not experiencing living nightmares. In fact, if he wasn’t devoted to the Flame Alchemist’s cause, he probably would have resigned awhile ago.
Edward, however, was not deterred. “There’s no such thing as an age restriction to be a state alchemist, and I made sure to check.”
“I haven’t heard of anyone who’s managed to become a state alchemist earlier than the age of eighteen.”
“That’s just because alchemy is a skill that takes years to develop.”
“Then shouldn’t you be home studying then. You have a while to go.”
Alphonse quietly argued, “I think that we’ll be fine as it is. You haven’t really seen brother in action. Alchemy isn’t easy to learn, that’s true. And it’s impossible to master, but brother and I have been practicing for years and we’re really good at what we do.”
“Kid, every state alchemist is a prodigy, but they are also grown adults who have spent their lives devoted to their trade. Even then, they are scared that they’ll get demoted or won’t make the cut. I’ve seen the most competent alchemist cut down during their jobs. As an adult interested in your well-being, I insist that you go home and think about this for a while. Wait a few years until you’re sure about this decision.”
“But we are sure. Trust me, sir. We’ve talked about it in great detail and we feel like it’s our only choice. Failing the exam isn’t an option. This is the only thing that’ll help us. Besides, my brother would get too lonely without me to die.”
From the resolute tone in Alphonse’s voice and the sad smile on Edward’s lips, Jean could tell that there wasn’t anything he could do to make them change their decision. Still, a pang of sadness hit his heart because he knew that this would change their lives forever. There was almost no chance that he would pass, but from the way the boys kept surprising him, they would probably find a way.
“Okay, well let me see it.”
“Huh?”
“What?”
“Your alchemy. I’m not an alchemist so I’m not exactly permitted to watch the exams, but I wouldn’t mind seeing it in action. Besides, I’m falling asleep here, so I need something to keep my attention.” Upon noticing the devious look on the blonde’s face, he added, “Preferably without my own bodily harm.”
“Sure!” Edward exclaimed, loudly clapping his hands together. Miraculously, the old couple hadn’t woken up - from anything - which was probably a good thing because they wouldn’t bear witness to Jean’s jaw dropping to the floor in reaction to the transmutation.
Standing proud in front of him was a ginormous statute of the two boys. Every detail of the armor ingrained into the stone replicate. The only part he found unrealistic was that fact that Edward portrayed himself as tall of his brother, which was easily overlooked when it came to the sheer likeliness of the transmutation.
“That’s not all I can do, but using earth materials is a lot more convenient for me than water or acids.”
“That’s impressive,” he admitted, “You could give Major Armstrong a run for his money.” Then, just because he was tired and had no brain to mouth filter at the moment, he decided to add, “but fancy tricks aren’t exactly going to get you a position as a state alchemist. You need to be able to prove yourself effective in a dangerous situation.”
It wasn’t wrong, the boy probably had a pre-made transmutation circle, but according to his CO, they left little room for creativity. Making statues was cute and all, but what could it do in a situation that involved more than showing off.
If the boy had any doubts, he didn’t show it.
He rushed off to whisper something to his brother. The metal-laced voice carried a bit more in its response, but Jean couldn’t hear anything more than slight mutterings. When a large stone hand rushed out towards the boy, Jean nearly swore in shock.
Edward dodged, laughing as he danced away. He clapped again and stone rose up from the ground in a huge wave, heading straight for his ironclad brother. Alphonse dodged, leaned down, and began to sketch a transmutation circle onto the pavement.
Jean watched the two brothers spar until his eyes grew sleepy. A number of times he caught his head a second before it carried his body to the ground. It wasn’t until the shrill sound of a train rang out that he regained true awareness.
He looked around, expecting to see a sea of upturned stones, massive pillars, and car-sized dips. Instead the station was completely ordinary, restored to its former glory. Internally, he let out a sigh of relief.
“So, since you’ll be escorting us to Eastern Headquarters, do you think we can share seats with you?” Jean jumped in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed the armor sneak up on him, which was weird because he’d been making so much noise earlier. Was that… intentional?
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine,” he waved off, “but I’m not going to be very pleasant company. I’m going to try to catch some shut eye if I can.”
“It’s fine,” Edward cut in. “I’ll be sleeping too.” He got this sad look on his face just then and looked up at Alphonse’s armored head. “If you’ll be okay with that.”
“I’ll be fine brother. Just get some sleep, okay?” The blonde boy gave him a grateful smile, starting the trek up into the train cars. Jean followed behind wondering what was going on inside the two boys’ heads.
When they boarded the train, they discovered - to their delight - that it was almost empty. The delay had pretty much gotten rid of anyone waiting for the trip, and a lot of people had gotten off at the latest stop. This meant that they could steal a first class car without complications. Jean felt like indulging himself and practically melted into his seat, asleep once his head hit the velvet.
A big jolt woke him up. He hit his head on the window, and instinctively lifted his hand to feel at the bruise.
“That looks pretty bad.” Jean’s eyes found the prone form of Edward, impossibly relaxed against the metal exterior of his brother.
“Probably not as bad as his neck is gonna feel in the morning.”
Alphonse chuckled at this. “I don’t know, brother is pretty resilient. He can sleep anywhere, and not feel the slightest discomfort. Once I caught him asleep on Winry’s desk, with automail on it and everything. I’m surprised she didn’t kill him for it.”
Alphonse had his helmet tilted towards the roof, probably reminiscing on that time. Jean was a little lost, but politely restrained himself from asking questions.
“Then there was this one time Edward actually tried to pick apart her automail. Predictably, he broke it. I mean, he knows Winry. Touching her automail is like a death sentence! I swear, brother may be older than me, but it’s times like those that make me feel like I was born first.”
Jean choked on his saliva. “He’s the older one!”
The rest of the trip went on like this. Alphonse and Jean sharing little anecdotes on their everyday lives and Edward sleeping blissfully unaware.
When the train rolled to a stop, though, it was like a switch was flipped. Edward woke and began to stretch like he wasn’t even asleep in the first place. “So,” he began, “Ready to go, Al? Havoc?”
WIthout waiting for a response he sauntered off into the luggage car, returning with both his bags and Jeans. He was honestly surprised that the kid even remembered what his bags looked like. It was just another quirk to the ever growing list of things he’d found out about the Elric brothers.
As they made their way around town, he fondly watched Edward looking at the city in wonder. “They’d grown up as country bumpkins,” Al had explained. This was their first time ever seeing a real city. Speaking of Al, the other boy was hard to read under that armor - which he still wanted a real explanation for, might he add - but the constant turning of his head indicated the same fascination as his older brother.
Making their way into HQ, Jean had to remind them to ‘act normal’, which earned him a glare and and muffled “sorry”. He was worried about what Roy would think about the two. His newfound fondness mixed with the knowledge of the twos’ reluctance to remove the armor left him wanting to abort his mission altogether.
However, this was not to be, because Riza Hawkeye met them around the corner, a surprised look on her face. In a most confusing turn of events, it softened into a tender smile, and she addressed the duo. “Edward, Alphonse, it’s so good to see you.” Jean’s brain short circuited. How the hell did she know these boys? Why did she actually look happy to see them? Was she alarmed at the suit of armor or had she gotten used to it just like him?
“Hey Hawkeye! We were just stopping by to get our paperwork from Mustang. It’s nice to see you too!” Was Edward talking to her like a normal person? Did he mention Mustang? Mustang?
“Ahh, well, he’s a little busy right now, but we can squeeze in a bit of time for you. Let’s get that paperwork taken care of.” She leveled her stare at him, for once not scolding or disappointed. “Thank you for bringing them here, lieutenant. I’ll take it from here.”
Wasn’t he supposed to be the one meeting Mustang? What was going on?
He watched as the trio made their way down the hall, Hawkeye’s exclamation of, “I wasn’t expecting you two to get here so soon,” the last thing that he heard before they disappeared down the hallway.
Breda snuck up behind him, coffee in hand. “Was I seeing stuff or did Hawkeye just go into Mustang’s office with a ten-year-old and a walking suit of armor?”
~~~FMA~~~
Jean Havoc did not see anymore of the Elric brothers for another three weeks. It was on the Monday of the fourth week that he heard what was quite possibly the loudest ruckus he’d ever been present to hear in Eastern Command.
He moved his head towards the door, waiting in anticipation for who knows what. The cheering got louder.
The doors swung open and he caught sight of a familiar blonde braid shadowed by the unforgettable metal armor.
In Edward’s gloved hand was a shining, silver pocket watch. The one that identified state alchemists. With a proud grin stretching across his face, he said, “I told you I could do it.”
#FMA#fullmetal alchemist#edward elric#alphonse elric#jean havoc#the kids and jean bond and I don't regret it#If Roy is their father then Jean is that one indulging uncle#light humor#fanfic#faniction#oneshot
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Summary:
Draco and Y/N are rivals...until they are most certainly not.
~~~~
This is a oneshot (with potential to be expanded on) where the reader and Draco are enemies through their years in Hogwarts. One day Draco's insult goes too far, and the reader starts avoiding him. Outraged and jealous, Draco tracks her down and forces her to tell him what's wrong.
She finds out not everything is as it seems.
(Gryffindor!reader)
Warnings: Smut, light dom/sub, dom!Draco, angst with a happy ending, slight dub-con (at one point the reader tries to escape from where draco has her pinned, this leads into the smut but the smut is consensual) also this was edited quickly so mistakes will pop up hear and there
This fic can also be found in full on ao3
https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475127
Hope you enjoy Part 2!
“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N.”
You look up from where you had been studying, or at least attempting to.
As much as you tried to convince yourself, and those around you, you had been distracted the past few days.
There had been an inability to focus on anything as a darkness had carved out a home inside of you.
“Nothing’s wrong. What would make you think that?” you say without even looking up from the blurring inked letters on the page.
A chair pulls out from the table in front of you as a dark haired boy plops into the seat without invitation. You both know he didn’t need one.
Harry Potter huffed a laugh at the lie that left your lips.
“Have you actually fooled anyone with that line?”
You allowed yourself to smile, unable to resist him.
Knowing you wouldn’t be left in peace until you gave in, you let the old library book in your hand close shut with a puff of dust before focusing your attention on the boy in front of you.
There was a kindness to him. The wireframe glasses sliding lower and lower on his crooked nose hid his emerald eyes, and his hair was an endearing mess on top of his head.
“No, but I definitely didn’t think you’d be able to tell the difference,” you say, teasing him.
A crooked smile lit his face, one you saw less and less of as the years went by.
“There she is,” he says, “was wondering where’d you gone.”
You scowl, but he had already proven his point. You leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms, making sure he understood that you weren’t going to make this any easier on him then you already had.
“What is it you want, Harry?” you ask, not unkindly.
Almost as easily as you and Malfoy had become enemies, you and Harry had become friends.
You had met the boy after the sorting ceremony. All gathered around the glittering Gryffindor table, you had been sitting across from the boy like you were now.
Not one to be shy, you had struck up a conversation with him. Soon enough you began talking as if you had been best friend’s all your life.
Though you admired and knew the story of who he was, especially as a first year, you had never put him on a pedestal. Nor had you expected unrealistic miracles from him. It was one of the reasons he had come to trust you, and you him.
Well, that and you guys bonded over your shared hatred of a certain Slytherin. But you had been doing so good not thinking of the silver haired boy and you didn’t want to backslide, even though you knew that was exactly that reason Harry had come to find you.
“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” he said.
The two of you had been through too much to have any patience for bullshit answers. You both knew well enough that life was too short.
“Why have you been acting off all week? Something’s wrong, and I’m not going to let you keep moping about it for another.”
You had been expecting the question, but it didn’t mean it was any easier to answer.
After you had threatened Malfoy in the hallway, and ordered him to stay away from you, you had been sucked into a vortex of heartbreak.
His words repeated obsessively over and over in your head, as if determined to crush your heart so it could never reform and make the mistake of forgiving him.
Part of you had wished Malfoy didn’t respect your wishes. Part of you wished he had marched you down just so you could let out all of this built up of anger sitting in your chest.
You knew better then to let him get the chance in case he wormed his way back into your heart.
Even thinking it made you roll your eyes. You had never even had anything close to a friendship with Malfoy. It was ridiculous how easily you had unknowingly fallen for him, and it wasn’t one of your prouder achievements.
So no, you weren’t going to give Malfoy a chance to redeem himself. Anytime you saw a hint of platinum hair, or a flash of a green tie, you would turn and escape the other way. Making sure to firmly ignore any cry of your name that might follow, despite how that one was harder to ignore.
Now a week had gone by without seeing Malfoy at all, and it felt like someone had torn off your limb and left you to bleed out. You hadn’t realized how critical a part Malfoy played in your life until he had been firmly removed from it.
You looked at Harry, who was patiently waiting for you to open up.
He had always been so nice to you, always looked out for you, and had even been able to banter playfully back and forth with you. Everything you thought you wanted in a guy. Why couldn’t you have fallen for him? Your heart had found the one person who had the ability to shred it to pieces, and decided that was the person it would give itself to.
You ripped out the tie that had been holding your hair up with an unprecedented force as you figured out how to answer your friend.
“It’s Malfoy,” you mumbled under your breath, hoping he wouldn’t hear as you avoided eye contact.
The looming stacks of ancient books in the library were all but empty as a storm was coming in. Most of the students had retired to their commons rooms before the outdoor winds began to whistle through the corridors.
There was no way Harry didn’t hear you.
Immediately his attitude changed. His spine straightened as a barely controlled fire lit in his eyes. It was almost familiar, as you had seen it in the mirror often enough. But there was something different about Harry’s version, there was a carnal desire threaded through each lick of flame. It was moments like these you wondered if the sorting hat had put him in the right house all those years ago. He was Gryffidnor through and through, but underneath his courage there was an inexplicable sadism that drove his actions.
“What the hell did he do,” Harry said, his voice leaving no room for argument. You had dug your own grave, now you had to lie in it.
“It’s nothing, really,” you tried, “it’s just...he went too far. I know you hate him, rightfully so, but try to understand that we had boundaries. Unspoken rules. There were some lines neither of us crossed, but you know how he gets when his friends are there to egg him on. He went too far.”
The uncontrolled edge within Harry, the one you were always afraid he would jump clean off, evened out to flat land. The hatred died down to embers of sympathy.
That was always the case. As much as you could tell Harry wanted to scour the castle until he found Malfoy, and knock some sense into him, this Harry would always be there to balance him out.
His thumb brushed the side of your hand kindly.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Somehow that was better than if he had been mad.
You didn't want mad.
You didn’t want Hermione to say Malfoy was a prick all along, or Ron to remind you of all his warnings against the Slytherin. As much as you wanted to hate Malfoy, you couldn’t.
That was the real problem.
Frustration clumped in your eyelashes, but you didn’t break. You knew that to start would mean you would never stop.
“As much as I can’t stand the guy, I never thought that he was actually looking to hurt you,” Harry continued, “I know you two had a...complicated relationship.”
His evident implications didn’t go unnoticed.
You didn’t have enough presence of mind to keep the blatant shock off your face. Although you had realized the truth of your feelings a while ago, even if you never planned on fully admitting it to yourself, you had thought you’d been doing good at keeping other people from noticing.
“How did you know?” you asked, wondering how you had given the true nature of your feelings away. You were normally better than that.
Harry turned red as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.
“Um...well-”
“Hermione figured it out didn’t she,” you said with a fond shake of your head.
Harry was notorious for being oblivious in situations such as yours. He wouldn’t have been able to put the pieces together, despite his good intentions.
“Oi, shut it,” he said, bashfully, “I would have figured it out eventually.”
He loved his friends. He would never skip out on their lives deliberately.
The mood sombered quickly despite your longing for the carefree nature between the two of you. Harry made sure to catch your eye again before you could escape into yourself.
“Look, I don’t know what he did, and I’m not saying to give him another chance if you don’t want to. He's a right git, but I don’t like seeing you miserable either.”
You sighed your frustrations.
“I just don’t want to get hurt again,” you said, so softly you couldn’t find yourself within the words, “Not by him. I don’t know if I could handle that.”
Harry closed his hands over your own, and the warmth tingled comfortably throughout your body.
As easy as it would be to like him, he was one of your closest friends. You wouldn’t give the bond you had with him now up for anything.
“Hey, listen to me.”
You allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.
“Getting hurt is inevitable. You just have to decide if it's worth missing out on all the good, too.”
For a moment, you saw past his battle scars to the earnest, hopeful eleven year old boy he had once been. You hated that so much had taken his innocence from him, but one thing would never change. At his core, above all, Harry loved.
You loved him for it.
Naturally, it didn’t stop you from leaning forward and flicking him on the forehead.
“What was that for?” Harry grouched loud enough that the librarian shushed them from across the room.
“For being such a good friend,” you responded as you stood from your chair and started packing up your long forgotten notes and books.
Lighting flashed outside followed by the warnings of thunder, it was time you joined your housemates in the common room.
“If that’s the thanks I get I might as well hang out with Malfoy myself,” he grumbled.
You snorted, imagining the horror show that would be.
“Draco has nothing on me,” you said, tussling your friend’s hair, “don’t you dare forget it.”
You shouldered your bag, and pushed in your chair. You were ready to leave when you noticed Harry hadn’t gotten up with you.
“You coming? The rain’s going to start soon.”
Harry cringed, it was obvious he hadn’t expected to be questioned. He leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together as he tried to adopt the innocent is me expression.
You were already unimpressed.
“Well, you see, I have a- um-”
“On second thought I don’t want to know what illegal thing you, Ron, and Hermione are doing this time around. I’ll see you at the quidditch game tomorrow, Harry.”
You waved as you walked away, and he didn’t bother protesting what the two of you knew to be true as he waved you off.
You pushed through the carved wooden door, and hurried into the hall so you wouldn’t get crushed by its back swing.
A jarring boom barred you from the warming spell that kept the library at a comfortable temperature. You didn’t bother suppressing a shiver as you pulled your robe tighter around you.
Outside, a gust of wind curled through the exposed courtyard. The sky had darkened to a bruised purple, and you revelled in the excitement it brought. You were eager to feel something other than sadness and anger, and gladly took what replaced it. You had always been enamoured by storms, and part of you wanted to stay and watch as the sky raged down upon you.
But the emptiness of the halls pressed in around you, forbidding you from escaping the uneasiness that pressed in around you. It was almost like someone was watching you. Unable to help yourself, you glanced left and right for any sign of life, but were unconsoled by the emptiness that met you. Deciding you’d rather watch the storm from the window in your dorm, you quickly took to your right.
But as you were about to hurry your way back to the Gryffindor common room, a hand gripped your upper arm. You were jerked in the opposite direction of your destination and pulled down a darkened hall. A scream caught in your throat as a hand secured itself firmly over your mouth. You clutched the arm pulling you, adrenaline racing through you as your back suddenly collided with the wall. Your hands were pinned by your head so you couldn’t grab for your wand.
Your bag had fallen when the stranger grabbed you. Your things now lay scattered across the hall as you tried to catch your breath. But even knowing you should be absolutely terrified, a sudden calmness had washed over you anyway. You’d know the hands holding you down anywhere. You’d know the rumbling voice even if you went deaf. You’d know the sharpened jawline even if you couldn’t see.
You’d know the looming figure of Draco Malfoy anywhere.
Lightning flashed, illuminating the anger of his face before going dark again.
For the first time you understood the name that had been coined for him since their first year.
The Slytherin Prince.
“Where the hell have you been?”
Part Three Here
#draco x reader#draco fuckingmalfoy#draco malfoy#draco malfoy x y/n#draco malfoy x reader#draco#malfoy#draco malfoy fic#draco malfoy fanfiction#draco x y/n#ao3#AO3 fic#ao3 writer#draco x you
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Galactica, Chapter 16 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica
A/N: Hello pumpkins! Thank you so much for all the love, we adore you! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫
Last Chapter: Sutan was smitten with a mysterious new girl, and Fame finally approved the Fashion Week designs.
This Chapter: A mystery, a flea market, an apology, a high society gathering, and a bedtime story.
***
“Come in!”
Katya pushed open Pearl’s door, then stood there, arms crossed, a deeply unhappy look on her face. Katya didn’t get mad very often, so when she did, people took it very seriously. Pearl took one look at her and scrambled up into a seated position on her bed.
“What’s wrong?” Pearl asked, a little worried.
“What did you do to Violet?”
“What…” Pearl scoffed, slightly offended. “What makes you think I did something?”
“Well, this is the third week in a row that she’s turned down our brunch invite. So naturally I assume you broke her poor heart. Didn’t you?!”
“No!” Pearl exclaimed. “In fact, if anyone broke anyone’s heart, it’s her! She completely ditched me at the Vogue party and now she’s acting like I don’t even exist.”
Katya narrowed her eyes, contemplating this claim. Pearl’s eyes were wide and innocent and she looked like she was telling the truth, but Katya wasn’t buying it. Something didn’t smell right.
“Huh.” Katya sat down beside Pearl on the bed. “Walk me through the party. Everything you remember.”
“Okay, so it started out great. She looked super hot; I looked super hot.”
“Naturally,” Katya chuckled.
“She didn’t want to do the whole step and repeat thing, but of course I have to, so she kind of stood to the side while I took some pictures, and I was like, clowning and flirting with her, and she seemed really into it. Real giggly and adorable.”
“Okay...” Katya raised an eyebrow.
“And then we went in, and she just...disappeared.” Pearl groaned. “I couldn’t find her anywhere. And the next thing I knew, she was sitting at the bar, flirting with some dude, having the time of her life-”
“Go back,” Katya said. “When you went into the party, you’re saying that she disappeared without saying one word to you?”
“Well, no, she said that she was going to get us drinks.”
“And what were you doing while she was getting drinks, Pearl?” Katya asked.
“I was dancing. Waiting for her! And...oh, shit.” Realization dawned in Pearl’s eyes. “Do you think she saw that girl kiss me?”
Katya covered her face with her hands, moaning, “Peeeearl, for fuck’s sake!”
“Well it was only like a second! A few seconds, tops! And I pushed her away!” Pearl defended herself. “And anyway, why wouldn’t she have said anything?!”
“Does she strike you as the type who enjoys confrontation?” Katya asked pointedly.
“No. No, definitely not. Ugh, fuck.”
“And anyway, what did you say when you saw her at the bar?”
“Uhhh...I kinda just...left.”
“Pearl!” Katya admonished.
“I was pissed! And I don’t like confrontation either.” Pearl crossed her arms sullenly.
“You need to talk to her.”
“Well, I’ve tried, Katya, but she doesn’t want to!”
Katya placed a hand on Pearl’s shoulder and said, “Try again.”
Pearl nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
***
“Patrick! Patrick, come here!”
Patrick looked around, trying to locate the face of his wife in the crowd of poorly-dressed shoppers who were surrounding them.
Fame had come home last night, fully drained after a long week at the office. When her mood and her energy levels hadn’t recovered after a long bath, Patrick had made a decision.
The Grand Market Place in New Jersey was one of Fame’s favorite places on Earth. Honestly, any flea market where Fame could walk around in peace was her happy place. Patrick had gotten their car out nice and early, not telling Fame where they were going until they were well on their way to the Lincoln tunnel, where she figured it out.
Patrick finally located Fame, waving at her as he made his way towards his wife, two strawberry melon coolers in his hand, one for each of them.
“Look! Look!” Fame smiled, her entire face lighting up as she held up a small porcelain figurine of a chicken.
“It’s a Royal Copley! See! The stamp is still there!” Fame turned the chicken upside down and showed him the bottom and the brand of the figurine. “It’s an original, I have to have this! It’s an Araucana, my favorite breed!”
Patrick laughed, basking in the joy Fame was radiating. He had sworn on his life that he would never tell anyone that Fame was an avid collector of porcelain animals, but chickens in particular. Her private collection had nearly 100 small chickens meticulously on display in one of Fame’s workrooms.
“I know it is, baby.” Patrick traded the drink and held his hand out for the figurine. Fame took a sip and smiled, not a single complaint falling from her lips over the sweetness of the drink as she turned around and started to argue with the woman in the stall over the price.
Patrick smiled to himself, thankful for the dork of a woman he had chosen to marry. Fame had grown up on a farm, her dad specializing in the breeding of rare chicken breeds for competitions all over the country and he loved seeing the side of her she normally kept so carefully hidden from the rest of the world.
Patrick took a sip of his drink, watching his woman. Spending some time outside of New York where literally no one knew either Fame or himself had been the right decision for today. It was liberating in the best of ways and just what they both needed, a Saturday away from the city in the early September sun.
***
Violet would have never opened the door if it wasn’t for the insistent knocking. She had tried to ignore it, had even made a cup of tea while desperately attempting to tune it out, but as the kettle whistled, Violet’s nerves had finally broken down.
She opened the door, only to be greeted by the sight of Pearl’s face, her hand raised to knock for the hundredth time.
“Violet-”
“Go away.”
Violet tried to close the door, but Pearl shoved her foot forward, her heavy leather boot the only thing saving it from getting crushed.
“Please-” Pearl groaned, her hand grabbing the door and prying it open. “I brought you a housewarming gift.”
Pearl tilted her hip, and Violet saw that she was carrying a basket of what had to be top shelf liquor.
“You can keep it.”
Violet tried to close the door again, but Pearl’s grip was too strong.
“Listen, I’m sorry about the whole mess-”
Violet paused. Pearl never apologized. Ever. Sure, the blonde pleaded and played cute, knowing just how to say sorry without the words ever leaving her mouth, but she had just said them, and from what Violet could see, she actually meant them too.
“Can I come in, please?” Pearl sighed. “I really need to talk to you.”
“Fine.” Violet took a step back. “Two minutes.”
Violet had intended to be in control, but it wasn’t until she had let Pearl in that she realized the blonde hadn’t been in her apartment yet.
“Nice decorating.”
Violet felt a flush of shame wash over her. She hadn’t gotten anything done with her place, the apartment just as empty as it had been when she had just moved in, but with Courtney taking all her time at work, and Sutan getting what little she could spare outside of it, she hadn’t had time to get anything done.
“You wanted to talk-” Violet leaned against the wall. “Talk.”
It was clear that Pearl wasn’t used to being put on the spot, but she recovered quickly.
“First of all, I thought you were a real bitch when you randomly ditched me to flirt with some guy.”
Violet’s eyes widened. “Wha-” Pearl was being wildy unfair. “That’s not what happen-”
“And it really fucking bothered me. Especially because that didn’t seem like you. Ditching someone I mean-”
“I didn’t-”
”And I might have realized earlier today that you possibly saw me on the dance floor.”
Pearl’s admission felt like a slap to the face all over again. Violet had tried to forget Pearl kissing the redhead, she really had, but it seemed like the world was intent on reminding her of it every chance it got.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does. Vivi, I swear, she’s just someone I used to mess around with. I pushed her away right after she kissed me. The only person I wanted that night was you. Pinky swear.”
“Pearl…” Violet wanted to accept the pinky swear, wanted to forgive Pearl so badly, the woman was one of the few people she considered friends, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t hurting.
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
It was true. Violet missed Pearl, missed their friendship, missed having fun and feeling young and stupid and so very alive.
“Can we please just be friends again?”
A part of Violet wanted to say no, wanted to do what she always did which was run away, but for once, she knew it was worth the risk.
“Of course.”
Hugging Pearl felt amazing, and Violet clung to her friend, her fingers buried in her blonde locks.
***
Violet hurried down the stairs, fumbling with her earring as she took them two at a time. She hated herself, but she was almost late to be picked up, the clock in the lobby telling her she only had two minutes before she was supposed to be out on the street.
Violet hadn’t meant to take so long, hadn’t wanted to be almost late, but she had changed her clothes one too many times, her stomach filled with fluttering butterflies of nervousness.
Sutan had invited her out over text two days ago, and while Violet had agreed right away, it was driving her up the wall that she had no idea what they were doing and where they were going.
He had only told her to dress up, and that he had their tickets already booked, which wasn’t really much to go on.
Violet had agonised over what to wear for hours, but had ended up settling on a red evening gown, overdressed seeming like a much better option than underdressed.
She closed the lock on her earring, but as she reached out to grab the door, she felt her phone start to buzz away in her clutch. She could see Sutan through the glass in the door, a phone to his ear.
“I’m here!”
Sutan turned around, a smile breaking out on his face as he recognised her. He tapped on his phone, and Violet’s clutch finally stopped buzzing.
“Hello lovely eyes.”
Violet was just about to open her mouth to return his greeting, when she realised that he was holding a half smoked cigarette.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” Violet bit her lip. This was the first time she had seen a cigarette in Sutan’s hand, his apartment not smelling of smoke at all.
“I don’t.”
Violet raised an eyebrow, and Sutan laughed.
“Okay, so, I guess I’m obviously smoking right now.” Sutan dropped the cigarette, and stepped on it, Violet barely holding in a groan as she couldn’t help but worry about the Gucci sole. “Raja has me by the ball with the whole new models thing.”
“Ah…” Violet was well aware, too aware, that Fame had already rejected over half of the girls Elite had suggested. “I’m sorry.”
“Let’s not talk about work.” Sutan held a hand out, and Violet took it. She had expected him to pull her in for a kiss or a hug, but instead, he spun her around.
“Suta-” Violet wanted to protest, but her muscle memory had already taken over, her body following his lead as she twirled once, twice, before Sutan stopped her again.
“You look gorgeous.” Sutan smiled, her hand still in his . “Is it Valentino?”
Violet nodded. “2011.”
“It suits you.” Sutan pulled her in, and Violet followed, the man clearly going for a hello kiss, but Violet turned her head to the side, his lips hitting her cheek, clearly indicating to him that she wasn’t going to kiss someone who had just smoked.
“Mmh.” Sutan hummed against her cheek, and Violet barely contained a shiver, the scent of cigarettes and his aftershave overwhelming her.
***
“How long does it take to get there?”
Violet leaned back against the seat, her black hair spilling over her long and slender arms. Sutan had been absolutely serious when he had complimented Violet’s outfit, the red dress spectacular. The chest was what drew his attention though, her delicate collarbones standing out, flounces flanking the bare skin, Violet’s small breasts half covered by the fabric.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Sutan smirked, his driver pulling out from the sidewalk.
“Fine.”
“You’re not even going to pretend to want to know?” When he had told Violet he was keeping the evening date a surprise, he had expected a pointed reply, some nagging or at least a few texts, but Violet had simply accepted it, the woman he was sharing his car with once again so different from everyone else he would normally date.
“I can be patient.” Violet smiled, a teasing glimt in her eyes.
“It’s no fun if you’re not fighting to find out.” Sutan flicked Violet’s earring, which made her yelp and laugh, his move earning him a slap on the thigh. “We’re going to the reception for the new Ralph Pucci exhibition.”
“Wha-” Violet turned towards him. “Are you kidding me? Ralph Pucci, the Ralph Pucci? Are you taking me to the reception of ‘The Art of the Mannequin’ exhibition at the MET?”
“The one and only.”
***
Violet was filled with glee.
She was at an actual reception at the MET as a proper guest. It was something she had longed for as a fashion student, and something she missed from her younger days, the atmosphere of a cultural premiere always something special.
They had already watched the opening talk and Sutan had gotten them glasses of champagne, the man offering his arm to her without question.
Violet had scanned the room when they had arrived, but there was no one there that she knew, no one who could potentially recognise her for who she used to be.
It was wonderful to walk through the exhibition with Sutan, the man saying quick hellos left and right, but he never strayed from Violet’s side. They each emptied two more glasses of champagne, sharing a few pieces of fruit from the platters the waiters carried around the museum halls.
“Oh.” Sutan leaned down, his breath hot as he whispered into Violet’s ear. “I just spotted Cory Bautista.”
“The co-owner of Model Management?”
“Of course you know who he is,” Sutan chuckled. “I have to go talk to him. Will you be okay on your own?”
“Afraid I can’t take care of myself?” Violet reached out, gently adjusting Sutan’s suit jacket.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Sutan placed a quick kiss on her lips before he walked away, allowing Violet to wander around the exhibition. She had no idea if Sutan had just been lucky when he picked the night's activity, but for Violet it was an absolute joy to get to look at and read about the history and evolution of the fashion mannequin and it’s creator.
Violet was just reading a sign, when she heard a voice besides her.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” It was a soft female voice, her tone almost melodical. “An artist who is actually appreciated in his own time.”
“It is…” Violet smiled to herself. She didn’t turn around, the art in front of her too exciting. “Can you believe they’re actually showing the original 1979 action mannequins? And look, they even have some of Michael Everts prototypes. Isn’t it fascinating? I love how you can clearly see the evolution.”
“Oh wow,” The voice chuckled. “You’re a real expert, huh?”
“Hardly.” Violet shook her head, “but I graduated from Parsons two years ago.”
“And what do you do now then? Do you work for the museum?”
“No, I actually-” Violet turned around, surprised to find an unmistakably familiar face. A face she’d seen splashed across tabloid covers while standing in line for the checkout as a child, the cheerful looking redhead providing some of the most colorful stories during the late 90s and early 2000s.
“Ms. Monsoon.”
“Jinkx.” The woman smiled warmly and held out her hand. She seemed charming and sweet, nothing like the irresponsible, brazen party girl the tabloids had painted her as years back. “And you are?”
“Violet. My name is Violet. I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect to see you…” Violet trailed off uncertainly.
“Standing upright and speaking in coherent sentences?” Jinkx guessed with a chuckle.
“Well, no, I just-”
“It’s fine, sweetie. It’s always nice to surpass people’s expectations, even if they’re rock bottom.” Jinkx gave another crooked smile, the mischievous glint in her brown eyes telling Violet that she was in no way offended.
“I like your dress.”
Jinkx was wearing a bright scarlet gown. It was clearly custom made, the cut telling its own story of a competent tailor, but Violet wasn’t sure she would have ever paired it with Jinkx’s copper hair and red lipstick. The colors should be clashing horribly, but somehow, it was working
“Thank you! Coming from a Parsons alum, that’s quite the compliment,” Jinkx said. “You never told me where you work these days.”
“Oh, I’m at Galac-”
“Hey-” Violet turned around as Sutan walked up behind her, pressing a quick kiss against her temple. “Sorry I was gone for so-”
It was then that Sutan looked up, his entire body stiffening as he recognized who Violet was talking to.
“Jinkx.”
“Sutan, well well well. I’m not going to say I didn’t expect to see you here, but I certainly didn’t expect to see you in such excellent company.”
Violet couldn’t help but notice how quickly Jinkx’s demeanor had changed. She glanced from Sutan to Violet and then briefly at the ceiling, her face unreadable. She leveled her gaze back at Sutan, looking straight into his eyes, making Violet feel more than a little uncomfortable as Sutan responded to Jinkx’s stare.
“You’re looking very… radiant tonight.”
Violet could hear a sour, mocking note in Sutan’s silky voice. She had no idea what was going on, had never seen Sutan like this before and she couldn’t recognize the man who had whispered into her ear merely minutes before, the energy he was giving off now reminding her of Raja on her worst days.
“Whoaaa… Alert the presses,” a voice called out. “Since when are you two allowed in the same room?”
Violet turned to see none other than Bianca Del Rio approaching the group.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Violet couldn’t be sure that Bianca actually knew who she was, or would recognize her out of the context of the office, but she wasn’t prepared to stay and find out. She began to back away, doing her best to obscure her face from Bianca, her heart hammering away in her chest.
“Heya, red.” Bianca slipped an arm around Jinkx’s waist. “Is this asshole harassing you?”
“Shut up, B,” Sutan said. “Actually, I was just about to take my date and-” He glanced around for Violet, who was by now standing by one of the mannequins on the other side of the room. “Um…”
“Uh oh. Boy wonder got ditched?” Bianca joked.
“I knew she had good taste,” Jinkx replied, and both of them cackled gleefully.
“I’m glad you’re well, Jinkx,” Sutan said, sounding like he had to muster all of his strength to get out the sentence. “I’ll leave you to it.” He managed a smile, “Also, Bianca? Kiss my ass.”
Bianca laughed uproariously, raising her glass to him as he took his leave.
“Love you too, Tan!”
Sutan spotted Violet and took her hand, guiding her quickly to the far side of the room.
“What was that about?” inquired Violet as soon as they were at a safe distance away.
Sutan took a deep breath. “Jinkx and I used to be…” he groaned, wincing, before finishing, “...involved.”
“Seriously?” Violet couldn’t imagine Sutan and Jinkx together if her life depended on it; they seemed too different, like night and day.
“Yes. It didn’t end well, to say the least. But...that was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter now.”
“Okay,” Violet said simply. If there was one thing she understood, it was the desire to forget your past, and who was she to probe, when there was so much she’d never want to share herself.
***
“Are you comfortable, baby?”
Katya and Trixie were together in bed, both of them wearing their matching fluffy pajamas.
Trixie nodded, a smile on his face as he snuggled into Katya’s side. Trixie came home from his bar night with Pearl pretty drunk, so Katya had brushed his teeth and tucked him into bed.
“Good.” Katya smiled and leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on Trixie’s forehead before she picked her book up. She had learned through countless nights in Trixie’s bed that there was nothing that put him to sleep easier than a book he found utterly boring.
“In 2008, a study from the University of Texas at Austin found that, ‘There are many inadequate high school facilities in Texas, and unfortunately many of these are found in areas of low socioeconomic status and high minority percentages.’ The researchers also determined that inadequate high school facilities and poor classroom conditions had a negative impact on students’ academic performance.”
Katya stopped her reading, completely horrified with what she had just read.
Trixie looked up at Katya, a sad look on his face.
“Keep reading baby… Keep reading.”
Katya smiled a little.
“The researchers found that high school students perform better on tests if the classroom has a view of a green landscape, rather than a windowless room, or a room with a view of another building or a parking lot.”
“You’re my green landscape, baby.”
Katya leaned down and kissed Trixie’s little bald spot. “You’re my green landscape too, baby.”
#rpdr fanfiction#thedane#veronica#galactica#lesbian au#fashion au#pearlet#vitan#trixya#violet chachki#katya zamolodchikova#pearl liaison#miss fame#raja gemini#jinkx monsoon#bianca del rio#trixie mattel
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An assumption: you inexplicably connect with online people really fast, and know immediately if you like them or not in the first interaction. It’s not something you do on purpose, there’s simply something in the back of your mind that tells you “yeah, this guy? We trust them” or “I don’t know why but I dislike them already”. Long reach there, but you give me that vibe for some reason.
Okay, so here’s what actually happens.
I tend to try and put my best foot forward. If someone reaches out to me with their best foot forward, I smile back. I hope, each time, that it can lead to a friendship.
I wasn’t always this way. I grew up in the days of moral panic over “strangers on the Internet,” and I was hesitant to call people “friends” if I’d never met them in real life. A few years’ wisdom and some really great pals I’ve never seen in person changed my mind.
I admittedly try and “vet” people when I’m meeting them for the first time. On Tumblr, for instance, I look through their blogs and see the ratio of fandoms we share to discourse I don’t want a part in. There are some perfectly nice people here I don’t follow because their blogs are quite political, and even if I agree with the opinions being expressed (mostly the liberal ones, as you can probably imagine), too many current events can make me anxious. (Though I’m in this state of “I’ve had it” where I might start expressing my own discourse, but I’m going to tag anything I deem worthy of the category with “discourse”.) Sometimes, there are fandom things we don’t agree on that irk me, so I just say live and let live and I move on.
Unfortunately, I also seem to lose friends a lot. I don’t know if that’s because I put my trust in the wrong people or just because life is that way in general. I just had a friend-breakup with somebody over money and art. That one...I guess just wasn’t meant to be. But a lot more times...I don’t know how specific I want to get here, but I’ll get people who like me and put me on a pedestal because of one thing or another I did, probably a fic on AO3, and so I try and bond with them, and then it turns out they hold a very strong opinion on a topic where I disagree, and they automatically think I must agree for some reason. And I’m afraid to speak up in these cases. So sometimes I’ve had to quietly exit because I hadn’t realized how much this person wouldn’t like who I really am. Does that make sense?
As for impressions of dislike...doesn’t happen enough. Was talking with somebody on a fanfiction site about what I thought was an innocent conversation regarding crossovers. Ran into that person on another platform to find them UNCOMFORTABLY horny on main. Kinda wish I’d been able to pick up that vibe before we’d gotten to talking because it recontextualizes some of the things we discussed.
I want to be friends. I want to make peace. I want to put my best foot forward, and see a potential friendship in anyone who reaches out to me who isn’t a huge bigot. But a lot of times...just doesn’t work out, and my instincts were none the wiser.
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[fic] Strange Creatures
Series: Artemis Fowl
Rating: G
Genre: Friendship & Humour, Post-series
Character(s): Beckett Fowl, Myles Fowl, Mulch Diggums, Juliet Butler, Holly Short and Artemis Fowl II
Summary: Mulch Diggums finds himself abruptly enlisted by the Fowl twins, Myles and Beckett, to create the best Eldest Brother’s Day gift for Artemis, much to Holly and Juliet’s amusement.
A/N: Here’s my full piece for the Artemis Fowl Fanzine: A Fowl Mood! It was really fun to be part of this project - many thanks to the mods & fellow contributors for all their hard work. Thanks also to my bro Digi for being a wonderful beta ♥ There are still some leftover merch for sale if anyone’s interested.
This fic is set a few years after The Last Guardian, without taking into account the events in The Fowl Twins (as I’d finished writing it last July). Fic can also be read on AO3.
_______
“What strange creatures brothers are!”
-Jane Austen-
~.*.~
Mulch Diggums was once again on the run and back to his old habits of skulking among dastardly rich Mud Men, pilfering trinkets and valuables from their homes. And once again, word of his not-quite-earnest—or legal, for that matter—endeavours soon reached the LEP’s ears.
In fact, his current whereabouts had turned up as a flashing blip on Foaly’s screens when the centaur had been running one of his routine surveillance sweeps of the surface. That, however, is another story altogether, one that Foaly would happily indulge in if you let him.
But Captain Holly Short is a busy elf—short on time and even shorter with patience. So alas, Foaly’s tale would have to be shelved. For now, at least.
So it was that Mulch found himself abruptly cornered by an LEP Retrieval squad in his own home—well, he was house-sitting at the moment, but hey, same difference—just as he was settling into a nice, warm mud bath.
That’s the thing about the LEP. Always with the atrociously bad timing, never an ounce of tact. So much for being role models, upstanding fairies of the People. The last thing Mulch saw and heard was a deafening blast as the bathroom door burst wide open, and the zipping sound of a fabric-like netting whirling tight around him. There was a flurry of movement as he struggled in the velvet darkness enclosing him, before he found himself promptly hauled back to Haven City and into the dimly-lit interior of a drab holding room, sitting once again before Captain Short.
“Holly! Mon chéri… Compadre!” Mulch cooed, tuning his natural dwarfish charm up a notch. “How’s my favourite elfin lady today?”
“Cut the chatter, Mulch. I’m sure you know exactly why you’ve been detained.”
Truthfully, Holly didn’t have any hard evidence for Mulch’s arrest this time—not yet, at least. But Mulch had hardly ever been innocent, even when he wasn’t actively committing a crime, so it wasn’t too difficult for her to pretend the LEP knew of his most recent of illegal endeavours (which they didn’t). Besides, she’d lost a stupid bet during a party several weekends ago, and—well. You reap what you sow. Holly made a mental note to never take another sip of a certain centaur’s home concoction of sim-alcohol, recreational study or not.
Anyway, back to the plot: She had lost a bet and now she had to pull this dumb prank on Mulch in return for a favour for a certain Mud Boy’s family. Holly could almost hear said Mud Boy’s tired sigh of disapproval upon hearing of his friends’ latest shenanigans.
Still, she’d also promised Artemis she would visit the twins soon and she figured this was a nifty way to kill two birds with one stone. Technically, it would be two Fowls and a dwarf. Holly chuckled at her own joke, certain that Artemis wouldn’t have appreciated that quip at all, figurative murder or not.
Before Mulch had a chance to explain his innocence this time, Holly began listing down the years he’d have to serve, the cell block they had carefully picked out for him this time, the terribly cold draft they had made sure would pass into said cell every night. And just as Mulch was about to get suspicious, Holly shifted gears and offered a compromise instead. Even though he was still confused and rightfully wary of the sudden turn of events, Mulch tentatively accepted Holly’s deal. And soon, he found himself whisked away on a shuttle topside, piloted by the Captain herself.
“So where are we headed?” Mulch asked once he’d settled comfortably into his seat. “Now that it’s just you and me, Captain… I’m allowed to be privy to the details of said ‘deal’, right?”
Holly was tempted to reveal the truth then, but she figured it’d be funnier if she let the dwarf discover it for himself. Mulch was a crafty one, after all—it wouldn’t take him too long to realise what was really going on. She only gave him a knowing smirk and murmured ominously, “All things in good time, Mulch.”
*
From the E1 shuttle port at Tara, it was a quick jaunt to the Fowl Manor. Holly could already hear the voices of the twins drifting over the wind as they made their way past the last cluster of Artemis’ fairy roses and to where the twins and their nanny Juliet Butler were seated by the fountain in the courtyard.
Seven-year-old Beckett Fowl was the first to glance their way; Holly could’ve sworn the child had canine-like senses, what with the way he had whirled around at their near-silent approach. He was the very picture of innocence as he bounced up to them, his radiant curls and bright-eyed stare reminiscent of an eager golden retriever puppy.
“Holly’s here! And S’Mulch Dinggus!” Beckett squealed happily as he launched himself at her. Holly embraced him warmly, before waving a greeting to Juliet who stood patiently behind the boy.
The dwarf tutted, unimpressed at the butchering of his name. “We’ve been through this the last time, little Mudskipper. It’s Mulch Diggums.”
“That’s what I said,” Beckett giggled, turning back to look at Juliet. “S’Mulch Dinggus. Funny he can’t remember his own name.”
Before Mulch could get a protest in edgewise, he was interrupted by a small, polite cough. He turned and saw a bespectacled, raven-haired Mud Child appearing by Beckett’s side. Myles Fowl had the same piercing blue eyes as his free-spirited twin, but unlike his twin, he was the seemingly more precocious and finicky of the two. He looked every bit the likeness of his eldest brother, Mulch noted humorously—from the meticulously pressed suit and tie to the neatly-combed dark hair. Heck, the kid had even perfected the infamous Fowl glare to an art form, crystalline and frigid as an Arctic winter.
“You’re finally here as summoned, Mister Mulch,” Myles greeted solemnly. He ignored the wet, icky sounds of Beckett blowing raspberries beside him. “Took you long enough.”
“Summoned?” Mulch frowned, before a thought struck him. He grinned toothily at Holly. “So that’s what this is about, eh, Captain Short? ‘Detained’, my hairy as—”
“Language, Mulch,” Holly said, stepping on the dwarf’s toes all while matching his grin with a serene, innocent smile of her own. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry I had a Retrieval squad jump you back there in the house. But it’s not like you were likely to be agreeable and come quietly if you knew the Fowl twins had extended an invitation and personally requested for your…er, assistance.”
“Is not invitatitions,” Beckett chirped as he chewed on a piece of purple beeswax crayon. “Arty said summons would do in the tongue of magicks, so we summons S’Mulch!” He gave a sagely nod, his mouth stained and flecked with purple now.
Mulch gave Holly a look of disappointment. “Frankly, I’m hurt you think I’d even pass up the chance to humiliate my favourite Mud Boy, and what’s more, by teaming up with his own cute brethren. Okay then, little Fowl nuggets. What dwarfish advice would you need this time?”
“First of all, we’re not nuggets,” Myles said coldly, just as Beckett clucked like a gleeful hen and made flapping motions with his arms. “I assure you that we are still one-hundred percent Homo sapiens, even if Beck has gotten very good at animal mimicry of late.”
“I see this one’s got a great sense of humour,” Mulch observed drily. “Definitely Artemis’ brother.”
“A-hem. As I was saying...” Myles scowled at the interruption, and Mulch held up a placating hand in apology. “Secondly, Beck and I, we thought it through for many weeks—Well, I did anyway. However, we weren’t able to make any significant progress in the lab even with Professor Primate’s expertise—”
“Not quite sure where you’re going with this riveting story, kiddo,” Mulch muttered. “But I’m still listening, if that helps.”
“—and after several failed attempts, we have conceded that we need help from someone with the right skills. Skills we do not yet possess.” Myles paused, his young face pinched with doubt. But his hesitation was fleeting, and he met both Mulch and Holly’s curious expressions with a determined gaze once more.
“We want to throw Arty the best surprise Eldest Brother’s Day when he gets back,” the boy said. “So, would you please honour us, Mister Mulch, and teach us how best to make—”
“Flatulence!” Beckett crowed as if on cue, punching a fist victoriously into the air.
“Please, brother. Not this again.” Myles groaned.
“You boys want me to teach you how to let a mighty rip?” Mulch asked, incredulous.
“No, that’s not it!” Myles cried, exasperated. “Beck has gotten it all muddled! He means the fettling process used in pottery, not the crude effusion of intestinal gas!” He tugged frantically at Beckett’s sleeve, trying to stop his twin from belting out his favourite self-composed tune called A Song of Gas and Fire, to no avail. For two whole minutes, the group was forced to listen to Beckett’s high-pitched singing of “Pbbthh, pbbthh, rattle-boom! Gas and fire, gas and fire! Heave-ho, the window’s blown!”
“Thanks, little Mudskipper, for that, uh, delightful performance,” said Mulch, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes once Beckett had finished his song. “I gotta say, you sure are a natural. But there’s still something I don’t really get. Why would you need my help for the surprise? Like don’t get me wrong, kiddos, I like you two enough. But what’s wrong with Holly or Juliet here, or even Butler himself? If anything, they’re better suited at picking out the mushy gifts...” He trailed off, thinking hard. “Well, I trust the Big Man’s taste for the sentimental, at least.”
“Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Mulch,” Juliet deadpanned, with only the slightest roll of her eyes. “It’s true Butler had some good suggestions for gifts, but this is a Fowl twins initiative, so we figured we’d let the kids decide on their own. Besides, Beck had other ideas.”
“My ideas the best ideas!” Beckett chanted, beaming brightly.
“We decided that we want to make Arty a sculpture for Eldest Brother’s Day.” Myles supplied, glancing at Mulch once again. “We know that Mister Mulch is highly attuned to the necessities of good clay work by virtue of his biological make-up—
“S’Mulch is good with muds and gas! I wanna learn how to blast clay backwards too!”
“—therefore, you are best suited to teach us how to sculpt and—”
“And flatulence!”
Mulch tried his best, he really did, but he couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. He didn’t know which was funnier: the thought of the twins gifting Artemis Fowl, ex-criminal virtuoso and menace of the People, a squishy caricature blob of his miniature being or Beckett performing a pompous and fartastical symphony of A Song of Gas and Fire for his dear eldest brother.
Either way, he was rightfully tickled and the twins were in luck. Unbeknownst to many, Mulch had spent some time dabbling in pottery and sculpting with clay when he’d lived amongst the celebrity Mud Men; he had chalked it up as weird hobby of sorts.
“You Mud twins are hilarious,” he said, once his laughter had subsided and he’d managed to straighten himself up again. “All right, I’m sold on this crazy venture. I’ll help with the sculpting of a masterpiece for ol’ Arty-boy.”
From the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of Juliet’s smug expression. Her lips were curved into a wide Cheshire grin as she tapped Holly’s shoulder expectantly. The elf only groaned, before she reached into her back pocket to fish out a single gold coin and slipped it into Juliet’s fingers.
Mulch frowned at the exchange, throwing them his best hurt-puppy look. “Running a betting pool on me and for only a single gold coin? I’m affronted, ladies.”
“You only wish your crooked mug is worth half a penny,” Holly shrugged. “I’m being generous because Juliet’s a friend.”
“Aww, I knew you were a big old softie inside!” Juliet sighed happily, reaching forward to teasingly pinch the side of Mulch’s face. “Now that that’s settled, someone can finally knead clay with the kids and get some work done before Artemis gets home from his conference this weekend.”
She quickly stepped away, disappearing into the nearby garage for several minutes before she returned carrying a craft box packed with an assortment of smaller items inside.
“These rascals had me running to art stores all over Dublin the past two weeks looking for all kinds of overpriced play-dohs, and yet hardly asked if I could help them to sculpt!” She grumbled, not quite unkindly, as she shook the items out from the box, laying them out on a patch of grass before them.
Holly looked over at Juliet in surprise. “I didn’t know you were into sculpting.” She thought of all the hours the young woman had spent whooping over her favourite wrestling matches on TV as a teen. “Never pegged you as the artistic type.”
Juliet snorted. “Pfft, me? Nah, I don’t sculpt. That’s more a pretentious Artemis thing.”
“Why would you expect the twins to ask you to teach them, then?”
“Well, I’d like to be asked first, at least! I took the time to buy all these fancy play-dohs for them, didn’t I?”
Mulch leaned forward in interest, looking over the packets of “play-dohs”. He spotted several labelled as Creative Paperclay—at least Juliet managed to get some of the good stuff. He grinned toothily as he rolled up his sleeves, feeling a spark of excitement at getting to work with clay again.
“Okay then, kiddos. Let’s get cracking and moulding.”
*
“What’s this Eldest Brother’s Day thing you Mud Men celebrate like anyway?” Mulch asked.
They’d made their way from the courtyard into the Manor basement where Artemis had set up a work space for Myles’ messier experiments and tinkering projects. The group stood now before the large experiment bench. Juliet covered the top with a large plastic mat, and turning the craft box over, shook packets of Creative Paperclay and several plastic and wooden crafting tools out on the bench.
At Mulch’s question, she turned and gave him a strange look, brows furrowed. Then she let out a short laugh when she realised he was actually being serious.
“Silly fairy,” she snickered, glancing over the top of Myles and Beckett’s heads before she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper: “There’s no such thing as Eldest Brother’s Day. It’s just something the twins came up with but I’m not going to ruin it for them and tell them it isn’t actually a thing. I’m not a monster, you know.”
“We know it, Juliet,” Beckett said suddenly, blinking up at her with those large blue eyes filled with mischief and daring. “But Artemis’ a simple-toon—”
Myles giggled at his twin’s use of their brother’s old nickname, even as he fought to keep his expression stoic.
“—and simple-toons need Eldest Brother’s Day. So we celebrate.” Beckett finished with a nod, as though he’d just gifted both his human and fairy nannies with his brand of enlightenment.
“Riiiight,” Mulch said, shaking his head. He figured some things were best left unasked and unexplained, especially when dealing with incorrigibly irreverent Fowl children. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for that impromptu alliteration (it was the playwright blooming within him, he was sure of it) and turned back to the project at hand.
The twins had already decided early-on the sort of sculpture they had wanted to create. After ruminating over it weeks before, Myles had settled on recreating a 5-inch figure of Jayjay the silky sifaka, the fluffy white lemur whose whimsical escapades were often included in the bedtime stories Artemis read them. Beckett, on the other hand, had chosen to fashion an honorary tribute to Artemis’ late Syrian hamster, Lady Maeve, poised upright on her hind feet in an impassioned stance, gnawing away at a two-headed wyrm.
Once the twins had sketched out their preferred designs on paper, Juliet pinned the sketches up on the cork board on the wall for easy reference. Then they got to work. Mulch placed two cups of water on the bench, and proceeded to show the twins how to gauge the amount they needed for their sculptures and how to knead the clay to warm it up and make it more malleable.
“It’s a bit like baking extravagant pastries,” he said as he cut a block of clay into various-sized pieces. “You roll the individual shapes out like this and then stick them together to form a whole creature. Like an animal jigsaw puzzle, so to speak.”
“They aren’t edible or taste any good though, not like pastries,” Holly added quickly when she noticed Beckett staring a little too longingly at the piece he’d been kneading. She tapped his fingers away just as the boy lifted the clay to his mouth for a quick nibble.
“No tasting?” Beckett asked mournfully.
“No tasting.” The elf shook her head. “But I do have some special treacle and espresso power bars from Haven City. It’s much better than consuming bland clay. I’ll let you have a bite later when we finish sculpting Lady Maeve, okay?”
It seemed like a good bargain, so Beckett closed his mouth and chewed at his lower lip instead, rolling his clay pieces under his palms with renewed fervour.
They continued shaping their pieces. Mulch showed the twins how to score the ends of the individual pieces they’d made for the limbs with a plastic knife. Then they connected the scored ends of the limbs to the body, blending the seams and smoothing it down carefully with their fingers and dabs of water. They continued in a similar fashion for the heads, noses, ears, and tails.
Once the twins were satisfied with their sculptures, Mulch carefully placed the pieces on a cool, clean shelf to gradually dry and set over the next 24-hours.
When they returned later to check on their work, the twins found the dried sculptures were now off-white and grainy to touch, quite unlike the squishy beige blobs they had been pinching and moulding with their hands the day before.
“And now for a good splash of colour to make your pieces really pop,” Mulch said, dumping several tubes of acrylic paints and brushes on the bench with much more flair than necessary. He had a paint brush stuck behind one of his hairy ears—it helped him feel attuned with the art connoisseur in him.
“Jayjay has a mostly pure-white coat,” Myles mused as he picked out a few choice colours, “but I think a gold accent to his fur tips, ears and tails would bring out his features more.”
“Gold, huh?” Mulch looked over the boy’s chosen colour scheme with approval. “Good aesthetic you got there, Mudling.”
“A very Fowl aesthetic for sure.” Holly couldn’t help the quip, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Artemis would certainly appreciate the touch.
“Lady Maeve wants to be purple like rain,” Beckett declared solemnly, having been uncharacteristically silent for five whole minutes.
“Purple? But Beck, Lady Maeve was a golden long-haired Syrian.” Myles tilted his head towards his twin. “If you paint her fur purple, Arty might not recognize her.”
Beckett’s attention, however, seemed to be two steps ahead of the conversation. He’d already dipped his brush with paint and was dabbing streaks of purple all over the hamster’s body. “The Lady requests a cloak of purple rain, so purple she shall be.”
The adults could barely stifle their chuckles while Myles groaned once again in defeat. He decided it was probably for the best and turned his attention back to painting his lemur.
It was nearly noon when the twins added the last dabs of paint, after which Mulch proceeded to spray a coat of clear acrylic varnish over the sculptures to preserve and seal the colours. Then, he stepped several paces back from the bench to marvel at the fruits of their labour.
“We have finished at last.” Myles’ voice was soft, awe pooling in his eyes. Hesitantly, he turned to Juliet and Holly, and then glanced back at the dwarf, searching for reassurance. “What do you think, Mister Mulch? Will Artemis like it?”
Mulch rubbed at his beard thoughtfully. Both sculptures looked very much like what you would expect of two seven-year-olds’ valiant attempts at artisanal clay work.
“Hmm.” He clicked his tongue lightly as he paced around the work bench, reaching into his inner art critic for the right words. “Now, Myles: Despite the crooked tail, you did a fairly good job at carving the fur textures on your lemur. Plus, adding gold accents to the white fur is very innovative and makes Jayjay glow nicely under the light. A very regal and classic touch overall.”
Mulch came to a dignified pause before the second sculpture, rubbing his palms together as if in deep thought. “As for Beckett’s recreation of Lady Maeve: It seems far more… robust than the original, almost challenging anatomy and even physics itself. But the bright mixes of purple and gold contrasts nicely with the green and gore of the flailing wyrm, adding a surprising dynamism to the entire piece. All in all, two very good attempts, my young apprentices.”
Holly and Juliet were already sighing halfway through Mulch’s needlessly opulent commentary, but even they agreed with the dwarf’s final assessment, much to the relief and delight of Myles and Beckett Fowl.
*
When Artemis Fowl the Second arrived home from his two-week long conference on Wildlife and Biodiversity Conservation, he was surprised to be greeted only by an unusually silent living room, devoid of the typical sounds of playful bellowing and childish laughter.
Leaving Butler to unload his luggage from the Bentley, Artemis wondered briefly at the absence of his two brothers and Juliet, their sitter, before he noticed a strange sort of rumbling noise and vibration coming from somewhere below him.
Curious, he headed for the basement, moving cautiously towards the noise. It was there that he found the twins asleep and cuddled around a familiar rotund shape sprawled upon an old velvet sofa. The fairy had his head thrown back against the cushion and was snoring rather noisily.
“Ah,” Artemis said, eloquent as ever. He steepled his fingers together, taking a moment to process the scene before him.
“Arty…? Oh, you’re finally back.” Holly’s soft voice broke him out of his reverie. He turned to see his old friend curled up on a second sofa, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
“Welcome home,” she yawned a greeting. “Juliet’s in the kitchen fixing up some snacks, I think.”
“Hello, Holly. It’s good to be back among familiar faces again. It seems that I’ve missed quite a party while I was away…” Artemis trailed off when he caught sight of the strange creatures placed on Myles’ experiment bench.
“They’re supposed to be a surprise for you when you returned. For Eldest Brother’s Day.” Holly explained when Artemis raised a delicate eyebrow. He lifted up one of the sculptures for a closer inspection, his forehead creased in confusion at what looked to be a purple rodent gnawing on a plump string of green linguine—Beckett’s.
“Eldest Brother’s Day?” Artemis echoed. He reached for the second sculpture—Myles’ lemur—before walking over to take a seat beside Holly on the sofa.
Holly stretched her arms as she sat upright. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“I expect so. Do enlighten me, if you will.”
“Well, let’s see...” Holly began, brushing the side of her cheek with a finger. “Once upon a time, there were a pair of twins who, Frond only knows why, admired and looked up to their chaotically unhinged older brother greatly.”
Artemis gave her a slightly wounded look, pressing a hand to his chest in a show of mock offense. “I’m appalled, Holly. You of all people know I prefer calculating to chaotic. There is a method to my madness, after all.”
“Ever the theatrical misunderstood genius, aren’t you?” Holly rolled her eyes, even if she couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped her lips. She nudged his shoulder playfully with her own, a show of affection. “Myles and Beckett adore you immensely—you know that, right?”
Artemis beamed, warmed by Holly’s laughter and the comfort of being close to friends and family once more. He watched his sleeping brothers, curled closely towards each other much like two peas in a pod, before he turned his gaze back to the sculptures in his hands.
“I know,” he said softly, still marvelling at the twins’ recreations of Jayjay and Lady Maeve.
And for the barest of moments, in the quiet that stretch comfortably between them, Artemis Fowl knew that this may only be the start of the first (of many) Eldest Brother’s Day he would experience, but it was already a very good day nonetheless.
And he was content.
—End—
#artemis fowl zine#artemis fowl#holly short#mulch diggums#beckett fowl#myles fowl#juliet butler#fanfic
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Questions: A OUAT Fic
Summary: Neal asks his big sister a lot of questions. Emma somehow always finds an answer.
Just based off of some headcanons I have of Neal realizing he and Emma had different upbringings.
Also on AO3
Neal was an articulate child. He was small for his age, with big innocent blue eyes like his dad and his mother’s round face. No one expected the questions that came out of him.
Perhaps not even Emma, who ended up getting them most times.
She takes him out of town once a month so their parents can have a day fully to themselves. In the summer, they go to a bigger beach. In the fall and winter, she takes him shopping for new toys and to see a movie. Springtime is when they have a picnic lunch in a park about a half hour outside of Storybrooke and then browse the bookstore to Neal’s content. She lets him pour over books that are probably too old for him, especially at 5 years old, but she doesn’t believe in age restrictions. He sits in one of the big comfy armchairs and reads aloud to her all the words he knows.
One of the workers walks by and pauses to listen as he flips through a Captain Underpants book. “Your son is adorable,” she says to Emma, walking away before the latter can correct her.
Neal looks up at Emma. “I’m not your son.”
Emma lets out a small laugh. “I know bud, but she thought I was your mom. We all know I’m just your cool big sister, though.”
Neal nodded, seeming content with the answer for a minute before he spoke again. “Why do people think that?”
“Hm?”
“That you’re my mommy?”
Emma shrugged. “I guess it’s because I’m so much older than you, I do look the same age as our mom.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you so much bigger than me?”
Emma is quiet, unsure of how to explain herself. She knows her parents should be the one to discuss the curse and everything that happened within it, but it’s her story too.
“Well, you know our town has lots of magic in it. Sometimes it means that people have mommies and daddies that aren’t much older than them.”
“But Mommy and Daddy are lots older than me.”
Emma searches her mind for an answer, trying to figure out how to best explain it. “Well, for awhile, they were stuck in time. Like…Captain America.” Neal’s eyes light up at the mention of his favorite superhero. “But I wasn’t, I grew up normally. But when Mom and Dad were done being frozen in time, they had you.” She pauses, trying to add that all up in her head. “Does that make sense?”
Neal nods. “Can we get ice cream, Emmy?”
A relieve smile falls across her face. “Sure, bud.”
***
“Why do we have different last names?”
Neal’s second big question comes about when he’s sitting at her desk in the sheriff’s station. He’s 6 years old. Snow is working and David had an emergency on the farm, so she agreed to take him. She set her baby brother up at her desk with coloring sheets, books and as a last resort, her iPad. She’s in the middle of catching up on her paperwork, so she doesn’t entirely hear him.
“What’s that buddy?”
“My last name is Charming, but your last name is Swan.” He points to her ID in her opened wallet. “But we’re brother and sister. Aren’t siblings supposed to have the same last name?”
“Sometimes they don’t, for a lot of different reasons.”
“Well why is your last name Swan?”
Emma moves from David’s old desk to be closer to him. This is a complicated question. “Well, I didn’t grow up with Mom and Dad. You know that.”
After the run-in at the bookstore, the three older members of the family agreed it was best to explain the curse to Neal in the most child appropriate way possible. He hadn’t had many questions at the time, outside would it happen again or would he ever be the same age as them. Those were fairly easy to answer. While they couldn’t guarantee that another villain wouldn’t cast a curse, it had been years since one even attempted. They were safe as a family unit and nothing could change that.
“But you found Mommy and Daddy, because Henry took you to see them.”
Emma nodded. “That’s right. But growing up, I didn’t know about them. They forgot who I was and they didn’t have a chance to tell me. So, when I was a little older than you, I decided to create my own last name.”
“You don’t want to be a Charming?”
“I’ll always be a Charming,” Emma assures him. “We don’t have to have the same last name to be related. Picking my name was something very important to me. I didn’t even change it when I got married for that reason. It doesn’t change that I love Mom, Dad and you very, very much.”
“Oh.” Neal looks down at his superhero coloring book, before glancing back up at her. “I think I like having the last name Charming.”
Emma ruffles his hair. She tries not to think about what could’ve been too often. Maybe everything happened exactly how it was supposed to. Even so, she’ll always wonder how different her life would be if she had been raised by her parents. She’d only be a few years older than Neal. Yet, she wouldn’t have had Henry, at least not in the same way. The friendships they all created, wouldn’t be the same. Hell, she wouldn’t change the bond she had with her own parents for the world.
Yes, Emma thinks about how nice it would’ve been to have her parents growing up but it wasn’t what happened. She is glad, however, that her little brother will never face those challenges.
“Well,” she says. “I’m glad you got a chance to have it.”
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An Invincible Summer - ShanaStoryteller, AO3
Link: Here!!
Rating: T for read the warnings, but don’t worry too much because of them
Favorite Quote(s): I legit wanna tattoo this next quote on me somewhere
"Oh, the things that can be accomplished through ignorance of their impossibility,"
And this Straight Up Fact
“There’s no such thing as cheating as long as you win,” Natsu says, and the brat’s not wrong.
This one’s just funny
“Chouza,” Inoichi forces himself to say evenly, “Your teachings produced Ebisu and goddamned Gai.”
“Genma’s pretty normal though,” Chouza sighs, “I never could get through to that boy.”
Gently Gai casually caring about Kakashi’s well-being is my entire reason for living, speaking of which if someone wants to come be my Gai that’d be really fucking nice because us Kakashi’s don’t do too well on our own
He hesitates, but says, "Not that I do not find your newfound mentorship to be a most youthful endeavor, but -"
"I don't know," Kakashi interrupts his friend, "I met her while she was taking her genin exam and she, I don't know, adopted me or something. She just keeps showing up."
Gai nods thoughtfully, "Stubbornness is a useful skill to have when trying to cultivate a friendship with you." Kakashi elbows the other man, but doesn't protest besides that. "She's a good cook."
And this one because I love it when people Get It, ya’know?
That's really why he won't say anything, why he won't reveal that the Kyuubi's container and the fourth Hokage's child is still alive: they already killed him once. Naruto and Shikamaru are the same age, they would have been in the same class, and the idea that anyone could want to harm his innocent, precious son makes his blood boil
And this one, for accuracy
"This sounds like a most youthful endeavor. I will bring Anko! She will fan the flames of youth in our young Konoha blossom!"
Both Itachi and Kakashi look at Gai, horrified. "Please don't," Itachi says weakly, like he knows it'll fall on deaf ears but he has to try anyway.
"Don't worry," Gai attempts to assure them, going into his Good Guy pose, "They will produce youthful flames of feminine excellence!"
"They're going to burn down Konoha," Kakashi says flatly.
Gai's hair and teeth sparkle in the sunlight, and he doesn't attempt to deny it.
Another important one
"The world is a terrible place," she says, and she has to swallow before she speaks again, "and it's full of terrible people. But I don't have to be one of them."
I love that Natsu-chan has great balance, this is my number one favorite character trope, and I wish more people would write it
She bends down to look at him upside down, and Itachi can feel that she's not using chakra to stick onto him, and sometimes her balance just isn't logical.
I just love the idea of tiny genius Naruto, and I love that Natsu-chan is a seal master at like, fucking seven and a half lol
Itachi knows it's actually far more complicated than that, but just as he does not tell her minutia of the past shinobi wars in their history lessons, she does not overcomplicate her explanations of sealing. Usually he's grateful for that, but when she appears to break every known law to sealing and chakra, he's not.
"That's," he blinks and he's not going to tell her it's impossible because it clearly isn't, "new," he settles on.
A mood honestly
Inoichi now feels the urge to bang his head against the table top, because 'a huge pain' to Natsu is 'literally impossible' to everyone else.
Another mood honestly
Inoichi watches his former genin dig in with resignation. “When are you guys going to start picking up the tab? Feeding you all isn’t cheap you know.”
Hana swallows her mouthful, “Sensei, I am but a lone healer’s apprentice –“
“I have been a chunin less than a month,” Kabuto pouts, wounded, “and already you seek to profit-“
“Do you have any idea how much sealing paper and ink costs?” Natsu demands.
“Okay, okay,” Inoichi grumbles, but it’s not very effective considering he’s smiling, “I take it back, jeez.”
Okay so, since this is a 100k+ word fic, I’ve been doing this thing lately literally just now on this fic review where I only feature quotes from the first chapter (Depending on length.) but, I’m making an exception because I’ve never seen these three characters and my thoughts on them summed up so well by someone I don’t know which is to say anyone, no one I know cares about my interests really lol
"Maybe a little," he admits grudgingly, "Sakura's really smart, but she acts dumb for some reason. And her endurance is really bad. She probably would have been failed on that alone if she didn't have such good aim with shuriken. And Sasuke's good at like, everything, I still don't get why he didn't graduate earlier. He's just so-" Kiba rubs his hand over his face.
"So what?" Hana prompts, even though she's heard this particular complaint before.
"Sad," the genin sighs, "He's miserable all the time, and he works hard and if you yell at him for long enough he'll work with you, but - crap, I don't know. He's got this really great poker face so you think he's just a big jerk, but I can smell his emotions, the big idiot, and he's just this sad lonely kid who won't listen to anyone."
Hana hums, because if she opens her mouth she'll probably start cursing the Hokage and his dumb rules and his dumb ideas, and that is not the type of thing that leads to a long life.
Just one last quote because dudes, guys, pals, friends of mine it’s important and you should all stop and read it.
“Thanks for being cool with – everything. I’m really happy you’re not mad at me for not being honest with you.”
“You are my friend,” Gaara says warmly, “and you have always been honest about that.”
Words & Chapter(s): 136,306 words of greatness, and 6 full chapters of nicely done completion
Summary: When Naruto is five, he's gutted by a drunken civilian and presumed dead.
Six months later a girl with ash pale hair and dark blue eyes enters the Academy.
(Guys I swear on my cool as fuck username, and all around internet personality as practically satan and probably Lucifer and whatnot that nobody we like stays dead or severely injured)
Score: 13, this is one of my favorites for a reason, this is actually my second technically third time rereading this in as many weeks
Pairing(s): Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka, background Haku/Zabuza, but don’t worry anything you’re thinking of is addressed quite nicely in the fic ultra background but still there’s a lot of relationships and I’m not going to tag them all
Warning(s): Naruto technically dies more than once because this is Naruto we’re talking about but they also technically don’t??? You gotta read it, but basically temporary character death, only the bad guys stay dead in this one.
Nobody knows that Naru-chan lived so there’s that angst for you, however, to be fair it’s not like this whole story is just characters mourning and crying and whatnot, at this point it’s mostly just passing thoughts and memories which, again, to be fair, does almost feel worse at times... Huh, regardless it’s not overly angsty
Kakashi is adopted whether he likes it or not by Natsu-chan, we love both of our emotionally fucked over fair-haired ninja in this house so you won’t have to worry about that sorta fic coming outta nowhere from me BTW... but anyways, Kakashi freaks out a bit, much like the abused dog he always reminds me of, but Natsu is the sweetest and most gentle, yet forceful person he could’ve possibly caught the attention of. (This is canon)
The Akatsuki are still bad, BUT ITACHI ISN’T technically SO WHO FUCKING CARES!!!! (The Massacre still happens tho...)
Mentions of The Flower District and what that implies, and also things a Kunoichi might definitely do
Oh my fucking god the Hyuga... Who would willingly do something so horrible as that? Of all the things... Warning for... The Hyuga branch family situation, it’s dealt with nearly as soon as we are informed but, gods, my blood ran cold, and my face whited out, my sister thought someone had died when she saw my face haha,,, who the fuck does this? And do they die? In canon I mean? I think I only watched up to the chunin exams or Pein’s attack, I can’t remember which tho...
Natsu cries because people are nice to her sometimes. And honestly that’s fair, I burst into to tears once because I imagined someone kissing my forehead softly so, Natsu is completely valid... Sidenote, I’m touch-starved and have no cure for this beyond younger siblings and my cat because I don’t have the ability to ask my mom for a hug without literally gross sobbing and I have A Thing about embarrassment sooooo... yeah if anyone has some therapy justu for me that’d be nice
Mentions of Gross Men that apparently want to have Natsu’s increasingly growing collection of the absolute most dangerous people she can befriend pay them a visit. And by that, I mean an old fuckwit has the gall to leer at a TEN-YEAR-OLD and a FUCKING THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD!!!!!! Ugh, I hate those kinds of pathetic worms.
On that note, there is technically underaged things going on, but they are also Ninja soooo???? They’ve killed people and are technically in their version of an army, and by the laws of their lands they’re all adults, actually I’m pretty sure by shinobi life expectancy Kakashi is middle-aged, Inoichi is a senior citizen, and Hiruzen is a walking corpse tbh
Alcoholism??? I don’t really think it is but I’m not sure, but some characters do drink often, and usually when stressed courtesy of Natsu and co. but still... I don’t actually know if it is because it doesn’t actually happen much, more like every few weeks/months
Mentions of past sexual assault, and attempted past sexual assault, neither happen in fic or to any of our main characters, the experiences are not graphic though they do talk about it in chapter five, it’s not to graphically described.
Also, a bunch of off-screen lemon
A Thing (That I copy-pasted from the author so that all of you will see it and not say a single word against it.): If you thought Natsu was too mature for her age - she has seen and been through some really horrible shit. But also: my cousin has, since he was like 4, hung out with kids that were about 4 years older than him because those were the kids that were in his neighborhood or whatever. Point being, even after he started school, his main group of friends was consistently older than him. He very quickly adapted to that, and to this day (he's 12) hangs out with that same group, and considers children his own age 'kids' because he adapted to the behavior of the group he was surrounded with. I hardly believe Natsu would be any different.
And also
4. Quick little note because some people mentioned liking my portrayal of the Sandaime. I base his decisions/motivations (and Itachi and Danzo's to a certain extent) around this quote by Clementine von Radics: "It is so hard to live half monster, to hurt everything you love by trying to protect it wrong."
Pros: Watching Natsu just casually disregard the idea of gender with little to no thought is the greatest thing anyone will ever experience beyond, I dunno, the party we’re all gonna collectively throw when soggy Cheeto dies (I still haven’t decided which song we should make chart number one when that happens)
Given that I’ve technically read this three times you should already know the writing is fucking amazing, like, whoa, mind blown type of amazing, like, wow, so good, I usually hate rereading something I’ve read before, and especially so soon after the fact but geez Louis is this fic amazing
Natsu is just as easy to fall in love with as Naruto, and they are still the same people with slightly different personalities as is to be realistically expected with a situation like Naru’s was.
Also, GENDERFLUID REPRESENTATION DONE FUCKING AMAZINGLY IS ALWAYS A PLUS!!!!!!!
The author manages to convey a very realistic genderfluid character in an incredibly believable manner, while also still keeping Natsu/Naruto themself. They’re still the Naruto that we knew and loved, but they’re different too, as is to be expected. when Natsu is a girl no-one stumbles, she is a girl without a doubt, even the author doesn’t trip up on societal expectations, and when Naruto is a boy there is next to immediate acceptance of this fact with absolutely zero (0) Zero bullshit from transphobes, which, as a genderfluid person myself, is always fucking nice to see. You’ll have to read it to know more though.
Natsu running around creating seals is honestly the greatest thing ever, and the end scene with the village made me cry a lil bit, and dammit this fic is so fucking good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So, there’s a scene, where Natsu heals Kakashi, and the way the author handled explaining the intimate not sexual relationship between two of my favorite characters ever is just, so subtly beautiful, the sibling-bond these two have is beautiful, and a part of me wants to cry sometimes when I read it, and usually do cry a little when I get to this scene, and only partially because of what happened directly before it.
I love the way everybody just gets up and moves past their trauma and just decides to politely ignore it, oh they still have it, they still deal with it, but they care, and they are careful about it, and even though it hurts them like a knife-wound to the kidney in slow-motion they still get back up and keep fucking going. That’s hella admirable and I can respect that, I can respect even more that they slowly but surely let themselves heal as time moves on. This fic is beautiful on so many different levels but it is this one perhaps, that is the most magnificent. Perhaps.
Sasuke is adorable and depressing and adorable and I love it. And Ino is still a bad bitch but she’s a kid so we only see it like a handful of times in the first two chapters. The Akimichi/Yamanaka/Nara are all great, and I occasionally pity Inionchicause like, he’s putting up with a well-informed seal genius that’s still hyper, a slightly frightening medic-kunoichi with giant dogs, another slightly more frightening medic-nin who isn’t the greatest fighter but damn can he be intimidating and also really good at pointing out “Certain Things” while judging you about them which, honestly, is my greatest pastime. Itachi is so sweet and then so tragic oh my gods, and Natsu never even considers giving up on him. Kakashi is so sweet, and he slowly becomes less of a beaten dog as time goes on and I just love all of these characters.
Except for Hiruzen. Well, no, I still love this particular incarnation of Hiruzen, for all that he’s got one hell of a pathetically small backbone, I get why he does shit. But that doesn’t make me happy. Still, he’s better than dumbledouchebag. Granted that’s not difficult, and you might have to actively put an effort in to be as bad as that guy, but still. Plus, his hearts in the right place, and he’s less about the greater good then... certain disgraces to teaching and being in charge of a large group of people... Hiruzen is actually kinda sweet and admits he has issues and actually has an excuse that’s understandable for the shit that he pulls which is great, if sadly uncommon.
Anyways, Sakura is terrifying, and I remembered why I had a crush on her. She’s so badass, also, she ends up Princess Mononoke basically which, honestly, is fucking great, and the best thing we could’ve asked for, I love all of these characters so much!!!
Aesthetic: It reminds me off beefy stew (We don’t eat beef, so we used vegan soy beef stuff instead, and it was just as good.) it reminds me of the warmth, and friendship, and home that I felt after my mom and I make dinner together with nothing but a little music on and jokes passing back and forth between us. It reminds me of scraping my knee and having my friends help me to their mom, it reminds me of loyalty and compassion. It reminds me of dancing outside at night, alone in the forest with nothing but the moon for company and wind for music. It reminds me of the first time I realized that I could love someone despite their gender and that I should despite mine. It reminds me of finely spun handmade lace, and all it’s delicate while also reminding me of the sturdiest of steels, it reminds me of so much. It reminds me of acceptance, and understanding, and so much more. If I were to say what food and drink it reminds me of, I’d say chicken noodle soup, and sweet lavender-lemon tea.
Music Aesthetic: So, I made a playlist while I was reading this the first time around, and instead of a gif or twenty like I would usually prefer to do I’m going to add that playlist. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbhXmTSBbAyjk0m1b4BZUp3t0RHL83LDK
But if I were to add a gif or two it’d be these
Because something about this fic reminds me of rainy days with tea and baggy clothes.
Every time Natsu/Naruto decided to fight ever, to be honest.
#sasunaru#naruto x sasuke#Sasuke x Naruto#Satan has great taste in: SasuNaru#kakairu#Satan has great taste in: KakaIru#long fic#Long Read#over 100k#Naruto#It's another Naruto one#sasuke#fem!naruto#sorta#genderfluid!naruto#give it a chance#trust me#fic rec
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Longest Night (13) Resisting
And Marinette had thought Highschool had been hard. Right now, in this moment, she’d give anything to go back to those petty arguments and gossip fueled drama.
But she couldn’t. Instead, she and Adrien were trapped here, being punished, humiliated, tortured, for being heroes, all broadcasted for the world to see. At least she and her kitty were in this together. For now. Whump!Fic
Ao3 | FF.net
Sorry this chapter is a day late. Busy weekend.
I thought I was going back to torture, but I have more I want to tell during this time stretch. Later in this fic, I anticipate there will be a few back to back chapters of torture. Since I won’t always show them from the watcher’s point of view.
—
Alya and Nino returned to school. It was nearing lunch time, but everyone was still in class, allowing Rena Rouge and Carapace to slip into their respective bathrooms undetected.
“Hey pretty girl,” said Trixx sympathetically, “how you doing?”
“I…I’m not great.”
“That’s okay.” The little fox said, nuzzling her cheek. “It’s okay to be upset, especially in this situation. But you’ve got me, Nino, Wayzz, and the parents.”
Alya smiled a little at that. “Thanks Trixx. It’s nice to have encouragement in my pocket.”
The bell rang, indicating that lunch was starting and students would be coming out soon.
The fox grinned back and then swooped into his hiding place.
Nino was waiting for her outside, and held out his hand as she approached.
She worried her lip, “hey um…I’m…I’m not sure if I’m up to going to class. After all that…”
“I think we should.” Nino said simply. “Our classmates know what’s happening, and they know how close we are. I think it’s best if we’re around a group of people that can support us, rather than be alone in Adrien’s room.”
She thought about it for a moment, and then agreed. “I’ll give it a shot.”
“Let’s see if we can find a group to tag along with to lunch, huh?”
Coming back into the courtyard, they noticed plenty of schoolmates milling around and chatting. Upper classmen, lower classmen, other classes, they were all just together in the courtyard. But the aura was rather somber.
In one such circle were several students, including Kim, Mylene, Rose, and Juleka (unfortunately, the most gullible group in the class) gathered around a bench.
“Hey guys,” said Nino, approaching. Though his voice stopped when realized someone else was talking.
Lila.
“Of course, the FBI even came to talk to me! All the way from the U.S.! Since I am Ladybug’s best friend, I would be a large target. They thought that maybe Salo would try to use me against them. But as Rena Rouge, I would be able to defend myself. I’m actually stronger than Ladybug and Chat Noir, but that power is exhausting, so I have to just be an auxiliary member.”
Nino cleared his throat, and the group parted like the red sea, revealing Lila who looked smug and not the least bit stricken. Despite what they knew she saw yesterday.
“You guys aren’t actually believing this garbage, are you?” Nino asked with malice.
It’s exactly what Alya was thinking, but she was overcome with so much rage, she wasn’t able to articulate any sentences.
“Well…” began Mylene. “No one knows who Rena Rouge is…”
“It’s not her.” Said Alya, shaking.
“How do you know?” Asked Kim. “Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t know each other’s identities, so maybe whoever gave them their Miraculous also gave Lila one.”
Alya tightened her fist. “I talked to Ladybug about this. Only the Ladybug and Black Cat where given by…the Guardian. Ladybug has dealt all the others. And I’m 100% certain she didn’t give it to you.”
“What’s your proof?” Asked Kim, challenging her.
“What’s hers!?” Alya shrieked. “She admitted to lying about Marinette taking those photos! Why are any of you giving her the time of day?!”
Lila had that faux look of concern on her face. “Why Alya, you mean you didn’t know?”
“…know what?” Alya asked, with her heart in her shoes.
“Marinette’s not really Ladybug. And Adrien isn’t Chat Noir. The stream is a performance piece. I thought, surely you would know! I know the director and he told me all about—“
The next second, Lila was on the ground, again, her nose bleeding like a fountain.
“Don’t. You. Dare.” Alya seethed. “You bitch.”
People were backing away from the two quickly, eyes to the sky.
“Alya!” Lila cried out. “You need to calm down! It’s not that big of a deal!”
“You’re…a piece…of shit.” Alya managed out between her grit teeth and heavy sobs. “It is a big deal! I don’t know if you live in some sort of fantasy or delusion, but you will not drag everyone else into it! Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, are in hell, being tortured on live stream and you have—you have the gaul to make it about you! You disgust me! I can’t believe I ever listened to you!”
“Alya!!” Nino shouted, startling her.
But it wasn’t enough warning. A long forgotten chill ran down her spine and purple light covered her vision.
“So, we meet again, Miss Cesaire.” Hawkmoth’s voice was thick with concern, and false comfort.
“No!” Alya shouted, gripping her head. “Leave me alone! I won’t—I won’t listen to you! I—I can’t! They need me!”
“They certainly do. And I’m going to help you save them.”
“I will never work with you! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”
The butterfly flew out of the fox pendant around her neck, and flapped around in the air innocently. It waited a moment, and then departed from wince it came.
Alya fell to her knees, sobbing. Nino was at her side instantly, holding her and trying to stay calm himself, though he was boiling inside.
No one spoke for a moment, but all were eager to hear who would speak up.
Lila recovered first. “Look Alya. I’m really sorry. I know it’s hard to find out that your friendship with someone...isn’t as mutual as you thought. Maybe Marinette just didn’t tell you. I know her and I don’t see eye to eye after I caught her stalking Adrien, but I swear this all isn’t as horrible as it seems.”
“That’s enough,” a sharp voice spoke.
A young woman, a fellow student, stepped into the group. Usually one to keep her head down, but never one to back away from the fight. And Lila sure looked like the enemy here.
Kagami Tsurugi crossed her arms and stared Lila down with a scowl. “Can’t you see you’re hurting them?”
Lila twitched her eyebrow at the appearance of this new foe. “I don’t know what you mean! Alya’s thinking the worst, but it really is a performance piece. A prank, really.”
“I meant, you’re not just hurting those two, but Adrien and Marinette.”
Lila scoffed. “I just thought everyone deserved the truth!”
“They do!” Kagami barked. “And you’re not giving it to them!”
“I swear I am!”
“Then swear to Mr. Agreste!” Kagami spat. “He called my mother this morning to cancel a meeting, and he was extremely upset. Of course he has no idea where Adrien is, and he’s beside himself!”
“Oh, Mr. Agreste didn’t know about it? I’ll make sure to let him know.”
Kagami barked out a laugh. “You’re really trying to say that Mr. Agreste didn’t know about an activity that Adrien was participating in? One on such a national scale? Yeah right.”
“M-maybe the director forgot to mention it?”
Kagami rolled her eyes. “You’re pathetic. Not only do you refuse to admit to your failures, you refuse to understand that the world doesn’t revolve around you. I thought you were in love with Adrien.”
“I-I-I am! We’re dating! Look!” She took out her phone, where the picture of her kissing Adrien on the cheek shone as her wallpaper.
“You already used that against me.” Kagami said blankly, “that photo is a couple years old now. That’s the only photo of you two together?”
“I-I...I was just—“
“Lying. Wasting everyone’s time. Giving false hope. Taking attention away from where it’s supposed to belong. You scum.”
Lila clenched her fists in anger, and then stalked off in rage.
Kagami sighed, her shoulders releasing from her tight hold.
“That was...really cool.” Nino stated, still kneeling on the ground. Alya wasn’t crying anymore thankfully.
“Thank you, for that.” She stated, wiping her eyes. “I don’t usually have a hard time arguing with people, but this is...” Alya shook her head. “Lila is so good at improvising lies. It makes it impossible to convince people otherwise...Marinette was never able to.”
Kagami held her hands out. “Come on. We’re going to lunch. I’m Kagami Tsurugi.”
“Yeah,” said Alya, automatically taking her hand. “Alya Cesaire.”
“Nino Lahiffe.”
—
Alya and Nino decided to return to the Agreste mansion for lunch, mostly just to check in with Tom and Sabine.
Nathalie looked at the three that entered, and nodded to Kagami. “I hope you all brought your appetites.” She said dryly, leading them to the dining room.
“Huh?”
Inside, there were platters and platters of pastries and breads of all sorts of varieties.
Tom was bringing out another tray from the kitchen. “Oh! You’re back! Please kids, feel free to help yourselves!”
“Did you make all of this, Mr. Dupain?” Asked Nino.
“Ah, Yeah...But, I think I may have gone a bit overboard. I can’t sit still! I know I can’t do anything to help, but I’m just—I can’t just sit around worrying. We’ll be giving whatever we don’t eat to the soup kitchen, but feel free to take whatever you want back with you.” Then he noticed Kagami. “Ah, sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Tom, Marinette’s father.”
“Kagami. Adrien’s friend.”
“Well, I’ll go get Sabine and we’ll all have a proper meal. We’ve got stuff for sandwiches! I’ve got sliced ham and roast beef and mustard and so many cheeses...” he continued to talk as he left the room.
Kagami smiled softly as he left. “Marinette is a lot like her parents then.”
“Yeah, they’re crazy close.” Nino supplied, “I’m surprised they’re taking this so well.”
“You think this is taking it well?” Asked Alya, gesturing to the spread.
Nino shrugged.
They both sat at the table, and glanced through the food. As much as they hated to admit it, they were both hungry from their morning activities.
Despite what they had seen before that.
“It’s okay, Kagami, come and sit down.” Nino beckoned.
The girl nodded at took a seat as well.
Tom returned with yet another platter, of sandwich fixings, before he left again without a word, his mind seemingly in another place.
“So…” began Alya. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but why did you want to have lunch with us?”
“To talk.” Kagami answered simply, cutting into a ciabatta roll with a knife.
“About something specific, or are you just lonely?”
She paused, then answered, “A little of both, I think.” She looked to Alya, who was very much still suffering from the after effects of her near akumatization. “I’ve seen you two the most, on their instagrams. You’re the ones they’re the most close too. I knew if I needed to talk to someone, surely I could trust you.”
Alya offered a sad little smile. “I see. We…we’ll listen if you need us to, but…” She sighed. “It’s hard.”
“I know.” Kagami put her sandwich down, having taken two bites. She wasn’t that hungry anyways. “I thought—I thought I loved Adrien.”
Nino choked on his sandwich. “Oh dude, sorry!” He coughed. “I’m super bad in the love department.”
Kagami shook her head. “I don’t need advice. I just…I’ve been thinking about things. All my life, I’ve had to strive for perfection. Grades, arts, fencing…everything. So, naturally, when it came to having a crush, it fell on Adrien. He was…perfect. Gorgeous, kind, smart, talented…everything I ever could have wanted. To find out that…that this whole time, he’s been Chat Noir…it felt like I was being lied to.”
Nino folded his hands in front of him. “Yeah…it felt like that for me for a little bit. Just long enough for it to sink in that he had hid his identity from me for so long, before it was replaced with worry for his well being.”
Kagami looked at her plate. “You’re a better friend than I. I…I was only angry. I felt deceived. Chat Noir…he’s not bad. He’s a hero, of course, but…he’s reckless, goofy, and just…doesn’t take things seriously. Those I qualities I resent in people.” She rubbed under her eye. “If his secret was more…secret, I guess, more private, that is, I might not have been so angry. Like if he was a closeted alcoholic, or he was a messy person, I might not have been so mad. But because he’s shown to be two different people, so publicly…I felt like I didn’t know who my friend was. Who was the real Adrien? The model, or the superhero?” She shook her head. “Then I realized that I didn’t actually love him at all. I idolized him. I fantasized being together, because I thought we would be good together. But that’s what I get for putting him on a pedestal.
“I realize that saying all of this is…extremely selfish and shallow. Adrien doesn’t deserve that. He needs people that love and support both sides of him, in and out of the mask. Now, more than ever. And…and I know I’m not the only person who’s felt this way. All over the internet, girls are talking about how disappointed they are to find out who he is…if I knew how to hack, I’d erase all those comments before Adrien got the chance to see them. And…and Marinette. She deserves so much of my respect. She…she had, or still has, a crush on Adrien, and she still volunteered to accompany him on a date with me, because he was nervous. She put her own heart on the line for the comfort of her friend. She really is Ladybug.”
“You don’t have to beat yourself up so much.” Said Alya, finally breaking her silence. “You deserve someone that you can love wholly and completely, without their flaws feeling like they’re ‘tainting perfection’.”
“That…would be nice…but it’s not going to happen. I’m sorry if what I said offended you. It know it must be hard to hear someone talk about your friend like that…”
“Do you hate him?” Asked Nino. “Now, with everything you know?”
Kagami shook her head easily. “No. But now, more than ever, I realize that I’ve never really been a good friend. To either of them. So I want to help. In any way I can.”
Alya sighed in relief. “Well…directly, there’s not much we can do. We can watch the streams, and look and listen for clues and report them to investigators. But we don’t have the resources to do more than that.”
“I see…”
“But,” said Alya, with a little more hope in her voice. “There is something we can do. There’s someone out there spreading lies and trying to make this whole thing seem not as bad as it actually is.”
“You mean that Lila girl?”
“Yep. Most of our class knows better, since we were basically all together when the stream went live. But…some are still gullible. We have to stop her now. I took down her interview where she claimed to be Ladybug’s best friend, but a lot of people saw that. No doubt, reporters will try to find her to ask questions. That would…that would be devastating.”
Kagami stood, taking her sandwich and wrapping it up in a napkin. “I will take care of it. It seems like Lila is a sore topic for you.”
“A sore topic is putting it nicely. She incites me to violence.”
“And that doesn’t help anybody.”
“Exactly. Thanks…Sorry we couldn’t really make you feel better about Adrien.” Alya sighed.
But Kagami had a soft smile on her face. “I’ll get over it myself. For now, I just want to do what’s right.” She nodded her head. “Give my thanks to Mr. Dupain for the sandwich. The bread is fantastic.”
It was at that moment that Tom came back out, this time with a stack of boxes. “Oh are you leaving? Here, take this and fill it with whatever looks good. Take it home for your family.”
Kagami couldn’t help but giggle a little. The man was so warm and kind.
It was reassuring to know that when Adrien and Marinette got out, they’d have a man like him to take care of them.
Not that she thought badly of Gabriel, of course. But she couldn’t imagine him having good bedside manners.
She would also need to work on her stoic disposition. Anything to get Adrien to smile again.
—
After lunch, Alya and Nino returned to school. Strengthened by her conversation with Kagami, Alya felt a little better. She would go and talk to the other classmates to see what they were believing in this mess.
Nino walked with her, holding her hand. Though he didn’t say much until they reached the locker room. “Hey Al?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“What…what did Hawkmoth say to you earlier? Do you remember?”
She closed her locker, biting her lip in thought. “I do. It’s just…it’s weird.”
“What?”
“He called me by my name. I was sure that he addressed people as their akumatized names.”
“Oh? What else did he say?”
“I told him to go away, and that they needed me. He said ‘indeed they do, and I want to help you find them.’”
Nino frowned in thought. “That…that is weird. And you’d think he’d have plenty of people to akumatize. Watching the stream had been more upsetting than listening to Lila.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Alya took out her phone and took down some notes. “I wonder…what Hawkmoth is thinking.”
“He’s probably thinking of the best way to get those miraculous while causing the least amount of damage, since there is no Ladybug to fix things.”
She typed it out. “That’s a good theory. For now, we’ll keep our eyes peeled for akumas. He ought to be looking for another victim soon.” She turned to leave the room, but managed to bump into someone, knocking their books out of their hands.
“I’m so sorry!” Alya gasped.
“It’s fine Alya.” Said the girl. Though Alya didn’t recognize her at first. Was it another new student?
Blonde hair tied up in a messy bun, track pants, and a hoodie.
“Do I know you?” Alya asked.
The other student looked up with a weak glare. “Oh please, I know I look horrible. But it’s not that bad.”
Alya’s eyes blew wide. “Chloe?”
“Who else?”
“I just…I’ve never seen you without makeup before. It was…jarring.”
“Yeah well…I didn’t feel like putting on makeup, or doing my hair, or wearing a cute outfit…because…because Adrien and Marinette probably haven’t gotten to even take a shower, or—or brush their hair…” She let out a sob.
“Oh Chloe…” Alya found herself saying with great sympathy.
“No. Don’t talk to me like that. Please just…keep being sassy. Let me have some normalcy for a little while.”
“Okay.” Agreed Alya. She cleared her throat. “Uh, geez Chloe, can you fit any more rats up in that bun?”
Chloe’s response was watery. “Can you fit any more in yours?”
Alya gave her a little smile. “We’ll work on it.”
—
In the classroom, Alya was swarmed by classmates, all running to hug her. Rose was bawling her eyes out. “Alya! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have listened to Lila! I was—I was just so scared for Marinette and Adrien and to hear that they weren’t actually in trouble was so nice and-and—!”
Alya hugged her tightly. “It’s okay Rose. I understand. I almost wanted to believe her too. But…That’s not fair to Adrien and Marinette.”
“I feel stupid,” said Kim. “For even giving her any attention. It’s not gonna happen again.”
“What did that bitch say this time?” asked Chloe.
“She was trying to convince people that Adrien and Marinette weren’t actually being tortured. That they weren’t actually Ladybug and Chat Noir, and that they were only doing a performance piece. When Alya called her out, Lila kept lying and Alya almost got akumatized.”
Chloe seethed. “No one does that to my Adrikins! Of course he’s Chat Noir! How could anyone doubt that he’s so selfless and caring and wonderful and—he’s a hero! And Dupain-Cheng—!” Her voice choked on a sob. “My daddy will be hearing about this! I’ll get her banished from the city! No! The country!”
Alya had the smallest hint of a smile at that. “Now that, is something I’d like to see.”
“Let’s all make a pact.” Said Nathaniel.
“Yeah, a blood oath.” Said Alix, with gusto.
“No…” Nathaniel clarified. “I mean, let’s just all swear from here on out to take everything Lila says with a grain of salt, and to do whatever we can to support Adrien and Marinette, now and when they get out…especially Marinette.”
Congratulations Lila, you made good on your threat. You’ve turned everyone against me, just like you said you would. But I’m ending things on my own terms. If you ever need me again, think twice.
Everyone seemed to remember her final words to them collectively. She only delivered them two days ago, but it already felt so long ago.
“Didn’t Marinette say something about a threat?” Asked Alix, aloud.
“…maybe…there’s more to Lila than we thought.”
Juleka broke the silence, standing up and looking at her phone. “Uh, Alya…? Have you updated your blog?”
“No, I haven’t even looked at it since this all happened. Why?”
“Uh…you should…”
Quickly, Alya took out her phone and opened her blog tab.
Right there on the front page, where everyone would see it, was a brand new post that she hadn’t written at all. It was short, but the contents were chilling.
There was a link. And the caption stated, “Hawkmoth. We need to talk. —Salo.”
—
I made Kagami kind of shallow. But I’m basing it off her behavior in Onee-chan.
And I’m going camping in a few days, so I’m taking a week off of this story. Who knows when the next update will be? Not me!
#longest night#miraculous ladybug#ml#ladybug#chat noir#adrien agreste#marinette dupain cheng#nino lahiffe#alya cesaire#kagami tsurugi#fanfiction#adrinette#djwifi#chloe bourgeois
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Roommates in Disguise
Read the fic on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901668/chapters/47138743
Lance makes a hasty decision that lands him in the clutches of the Green Starling, one of the city’s most notorious super villains. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to know he’s actually her nemesis, the superhero Icebound. His captivity puts him in contact with Katie, a fellow college student. Concerned she may be targeted again, Lance befriends Katie. He doesn’t expect to end up moving in with her.
Katie will do anything to find her family, that includes becoming a super villain to expose a Galra Corporation that has the city wrapped around its metaphorical finger. When Lance literally falls at her feet, claiming to be friends with Icebound, she jumps at the chance to find the connection between Galra Corp and the sudden appearance of super heroes two years ago, not long after her family went missing...
Neither anticipate a friendship and a blossoming romance.
Rated: T
Tags: enemies to friends to lovers, alternate universe - superhero, explosions, comic book level violence, experimentation, human lab rat, domestic fluff, roommates/housemates, Pidge is an anti hero, Galra are still the bad guys, action, secret identities, captured, companionable snark, collaboration
Art by @mybluelionlancylance. Look at it!
https://mybluelionlancylance.tumblr.com/post/186452499757/this-is-art-for-the-plance-mini-bang
Beta-ed by @whyamistillhungry
For @planceminibang
Myself and @fallen-angel-nightshade have worked together to provide ten chapters for your enjoyment! We’ll be posting once a day in alternating POV. I have Lance, she has Pidge. Watch for Nightshade’s chapter two tomorrow!
~~~~~
Lance wondered if heroes in comic books ever had bad days like this.
Not for the first time that day, or even week, Lance cursed his horrible luck. Dust gathered on his dress shoes as he ran desperately along the upended street. He loosened his tie for easier breathing, disoriented and light headed as he crashed into a mound of concrete that used to be part of the road.
The meeting with his boss hadn’t gone well - he was epically failing his internship, though that was no surprise considering his absences and late assignments. There was no way they’d hire him when he graduated.
If he lived to graduate in the first place.
Well, at least he could try to save some people from today’s villainous rampage.
Pausing for a moment's rest against the wall of concrete and pavement, he closed his eyes to construct peace and quiet as streams of shrieking bystanders raced by in the opposite direction of his travel, towards the center of chaos. There was no opportunity for him to hide and transform into his hero persona. Icebound would be able to traverse this trashed landscape with no problem, but he couldn’t give away his secret identity. His enemies wouldn’t give him any peace.
Enemies he never would have had, had he not been delivering lunch (with ice cream dessert, oh does he remember that ice cream well - all that awful stickiness!) to the Galra Corp building when the lab exploded. So of course he had ice powers.
It wasn’t as easy as comic books made it out to be. Lance extended a wave of sympathy towards Clark Kent - but at least he had convenient telephone booths to work with. Lance liked to see what he would do in the age of cell phones.
A growing chorus of panicked screams rang out in the near distance.
With a deep breath, determination set in. He had to do something, or innocent people would get hurt.
He heaved, pushing himself up and over a piece of raised road, making Lance grateful for all those years of gym class. He rolled over his back before sitting up on his knees, assessing the situation.
A group of students from his university were huddled together, surrounded by strings of green-colored energy that emitted from three black poles embedded in the pavement.
His heart dropped into his throat. They were trapped, and the design and coloring of the contraption told him exactly who was behind it.
A black spire impaled the ground next to him - it may have well struck through his heart with the way it skipped a beat. He screeched as it missed his arm by a hair’s breadth, forcing him to blunder backward. Elbows scraped against the concrete and he hissed in pain, though it was a small price to pay to avoid a head injury.
Dread grew by the tick, perspiration trickling down his temple as he craned his neck upwards. Towering above him, the cause of the destruction sat atop her prized machine in a half-circle cockpit surrounded on all sides by control panels, the tall legs lifting her a full story above ground level.
“Well, what do we have here?” the Green Starling, or Pidge as he’d grown to know her, mused. Lance scooted backward but another leg of her octopod caught a piece of his nice slacks with precision and purpose, pinning him to the spot. “Not really who I was expecting to be running into danger.”
This was not the most ideal way to face one of the city’s most dangerous villains, Lance fretted. He wasn’t in costume, but he had to do whatever he could.
Frostbite formed on his fingertips despite his racing heart. His chilly core begged for release to encase his body and unleash his full power. He had some access to his powers while not in disguise, but not enough to defeat the imposing sight before him. Worse, she’d learn his identity and Lance knew she’d take full advantage of it. Her hacking prowess had landed him in hot water before, mostly in the form of turning machinery against him; she’d find his name and address before he could get home.
He curled in his cold fingers, hiding them on an otherwise warm and sunny day. “Let them go,” he pleaded, “they’re innocent!” He still had his words. She’d listened to him before - well, Icebound anyway - and left civilians alone. Lance was convinced she had a good heart. She just needed a reminder of it from time to time.
Pidge rested her elbows on the machine’s console, chin sagging into her palm. The slightest of amused smiles teased on her lips and Lance swore there was a sparkle in her eye. “You’re playing hero - that’s cute.”
“Someone has to,” he retorted, perhaps a bit too quickly, though his heart pounded and he swallowed hard. “What are you even after?”
Pidge rolled her eyes, squashing his hope she’d listen to him. “I needed Icebound’s surrender yesterday,” she said. “I figured surely he’d come out with a mess like this. So unless you know where he is, I don’t have any use for you.”
Lance gulped. Oh if she only knew.
Though, a sense of pride swelled in his heart that she’d focus on his meddling verses the other two heroes in the city. Not that they were a common sight and Lance begrudged the idea that, despite how irritating Flame-o Brain-o always managed to be, he wouldn’t mind a little help with hero work now and then to catch up with his civilian life.
The attention to him specifically boosted his confidence and a smug grin tugged up the side of his face. Maybe he could use this to his advantage.
“It’s your lucky day then!” Lance said cockily, despite being pinned down by a giant robot. “Why hold a bunch of people hostage, when you can just take Icebound’s best friend?”
Pidge raised a critical eyebrow. “You?” she questioned, pointing a lazy finger in his direction.
“Yes, me,” Lance responded, momentarily annoyed. Why wouldn’t he be a hero’s best friend if he wasn’t already the hero? He was an awesome friend!
But a shallow argument wasn’t going to free the civilians. Lance closed his eyes and took a calming breath. He needed to swallow his pride and make her take this deal. “Take me hostage and let the others go,” he pleaded as sincerely as he could muster. “It’ll be just as effective, and you’ll only have one body to worry about.” He had no idea how he was going to free himself later, but as long as the students were safe, it was a risk worth taking.
After a long moment of considering, Pidge pulled down definitively on a lever. Two thick cables snaked down from either side of the machine. Lance fought his instinct to retaliate as they wrapped under his arms and around his chest, pulling him into the air helplessly. He gripped the coils for some sense of security as he was hoisted to the villain’s eye level.
Without prompting, she released the students. They scattered and scrambled in all directions. Lance breathed a sigh of relief.
“For your own sake, I hope you’re telling the truth,” Pidge said ominously as she turned her vehicle and moved towards the suburbs. “Because if Icebound doesn’t show up for you, I have plenty of use for you in my lab.”
“You actually have a secret lab?” Lance perked up, his voice rising steadily in alarm. The methodical movement of the machine was making his stomach twist about. each step it took jiggled him about in the smooth coils and it felt like he could slip out if he doesn’t hang on with all he had, legs dangling uselessly a story above the ground.
He forced a laugh that didn’t feel entirely humorous, keeping a weather eye on how far away he was from the ground. “I never pegged you for being the ultimate villain stereotype.”
Pidge raised an eyebrow at him.“We only just met and I’ve done nothing but hit the super villain checklist.”
Oh right. He couldn’t mention any of their past meetings in costume. He laughed nervously. “Icebound tells me about you all the time. He says you’re the smartest and most creative bad guy he knows.” Add a wink to the compliment, wiggle the raised eyebrow - be irresistible.
“Flattery won’t save you from my death ray if you’re lying.” Her threat was so monotone that it sent a chill up his spine faster than ever. So much for flirting his way out of this.
Their ride took an extra heavy stomp and he slipped down, scrambling to catch hold of any part of the coils that might offer more grip. His belly button was left exposed, shirt riding up his stomach.
Maybe, if he’s lucky, one of the other two heroes would find him before he’s forced to reveal his identity to Pidge.
Urgh. Getting saved by Flame-dude would suck.
#plance mini bang#plance#pidgance#flirtyrobot#voltron legendary defender#my writing#rueitae#vld fanfic#ahhh this was so much fun!#i can't wait to unveil the rest of the chapters!#i hope you all like the introduction!
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