#it’s been a really long time since i’ve drawn michael damn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notsowrites · 3 years

Text

Untitled 3x08 Malex Coda #3

Last one before tonight! Why I get inspired to write about these two first thing in the morning when I’m drinking my coffee is beyond me, but here’s some more soft Malex with a bit of fluff.

Enjoy! <3

----------

They head back inside not long after, the cold winter air nipping at Alex's skin. Maria is sitting up near the pool tables, cell phone pressed to her ear, and Alex focuses on the smile on her face, the absolute happiness he can see radiating off her. She looks up as they walk in, waving at them, but their presence is not enough to get her to end the call.

Michael is already back at the bar, leaning against it, knocking shoulders with Isobel, Liz sitting just on her other side. There's a bottle of wine between them, and two half-filled glasses.

"She's on the phone with your brother," Liz supplies as he joins them.

He nods. It's not new, this thing between his brother and Maria. But the two of them acting on the looks that he's known they've shared since high school certainly is.

Sliding into the open seat to Michael's right is easy enough, and it does wonders to get the weight off his hip for now. His fingers dig into the muscle of his leg, gently massaging it as he watches Michael slide another beer in front of him.

"You okay?"

Michael's voice is quiet, almost a whisper in the already quiet bar. The only other people here are people he loves, people he trusts. He nods.

"Just sore."

He goes for honesty, which seems to be the theme of the day for them, and watches as Michael's eyes dart to his leg and further down to where his prosthetic is beneath his jeans. There's nothing he can do right now, not until he's home and can take it off, remove the lining, and possibly soak in the bathtub to ease the tension in it. But that can wait, because being here, with the people he loves and cares about is more important.

It's the most important thing.

"We can leave," Michael replies, as if reading his thoughts, but Alex reaches out, slipping his hand into Michael's, and shaking his head.

Liz speaks up first, her eyes going from Michael to him, and back again. "You don't have to stay. Max is safe, thanks to you. We should take the win and enjoy tonight."

The fight leaves him at Liz's words, and he acquiesces, sliding off the stool, and stretching his leg, one hand on the back of the bar stool for balance. He can feel Michael's eyes on him, watching him, and for once he loves how it feels. It's so easy to reach out, to grab Michael's hand in his own and give it a reassuring squeeze, before he crosses the floor towards Maria.

"So your I guess it's our time vibes were only a couple weeks off, eh?" He hears Isobel ask behind him, but doesn't turn around to look at how Michael reacts, only hearing Liz's shocked gasp instead.

"Greg, hold on, hold on, Alex is here-" Maria turns towards him, pulling the phone away from her ear and wrapping her arms around him. He stumbles a bit, expecting the weight but miscalculating for how tired he is. She immediately pulls back, looking him up and down, assessing.

He presses a kiss to her cheek. "I'm fine, just tired. Michael and I are heading out, but I didn't want to leave without telling you."

She raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'll call you tomorrow." He feels his cheeks go warm, and shifts on his feet, not out of the soreness in his hip this time.

"You better," Maria laughs as she puts the phone back up to her ear, and Alex can immediately hear his brother, just can't make out the words. He watches as Maria smiles, a laugh escaping her lips as she looks back at him.

"Greg says it's about damn time."

With a bit of an eyeroll, he leaves the two of them to their conversation and turns back to the bar, surprised to find Michael is standing near the doorway. There's a feeling that blossoms in his chest, seeing Michael standing there, waiting, for him. And after spending the day together, Alex isn't ready for it to end.

"Can you take me home?"

The car ride is quiet, but not awkward. Alex pushes himself up against the passenger door, and shifts himself so he's staring at Michael as he drives. Something he hasn't done since they were teenagers when they'd get in Michael's truck and drive out to the desert - the only way after the toolshed they could find some time for themselves.

Michael's hat is sitting on the seat between them, and Alex brushes his fingers along the rim. He loves the cowboy look, even if it covers up Michael's curls. Because he really is in love with Michael Guerin any way you slice it.

His house is on a quiet side street outside town, the yard lights on thanks to their automatic timer, illuminating the terrace and the front door. He and Maria had strung them up one Saturday afternoon a few weeks after he'd bought the house, her claiming it needed some ambiance. She'd been the one to help him pick out the patio furniture, and start making the house into some place he could call home.

Michael pulls the truck into the driveway next to his SUV, and Alex reaches for the door handle, before he realizes the engine is idling.

Does he want Michael to leave? He doesn't know. Today was a whirlwind for them - working together, talking, and Michael kissing him. As he'd pressed his face into Michael's shoulder earlier, he'd realized how much he missed this - missed Michael. There had always been something about the way it felt around him, when they weren't fighting, when they had a moment of quiet - an unexplainable calm that would fall over him. For the first time in years, he'd felt it again that morning, and then again later in the truck when Michael had touched his cheek.

He wouldn't label it an understanding, because it felt much deeper than that.

"Michael?"

"Yeah?"

But Michael makes no move to turn off the engine, so Alex tugs on that courage he'd used all day to tell Michael what he wanted. He'd never felt the need to put into words his every day actions - and perhaps part of that was his years in the Air Force, and the work he'd done that required a level of secrecy. But keeping Michael out of the loop recently hadn't done them, or their relationship, any favors. And he hated to see Michael so angry at him.

"Shut the engine off and come inside."

He watches Michael turn to him, eyes soft and beautiful, and Alex doesn't know sometimes, what to do with the way Michael makes him feel. He never has. If he was younger, if he was more agile than he is these days, he'd climb over onto Michael's lap and kiss him here in the truck. So instead he reaches over the cowboy hat, and slips his fingers under Michael's, tightening his grip.

"You sure?"

Alex nods.

But Michael's hesitance doesn't end there, and follows him into the house. Alex coaxes him out of his jacket, his boots, and watches as he slowly walks into the living room, glancing around as if unsure of himself. And Michael has been here before, Michael's been here a lot over the years.

"You got rid of the cameras," he says, nodding up where the one above his bedroom door used to be.

The cameras were something he'd installed under the belief that he couldn't trust his father. There had always been that residual fear he would break in and try something to get one up on Alex. So the cameras had made him feel like he was being proactive, like his father couldn't sneak up on him if he had a system in place.

"Yeah, don't need them anymore." He doesn't want to talk about his dad. Not now. It's not that he wants to brush it under the rug and never speak of it, because he knows there are a lot of things they need to talk about. But Liz's words echo in his mind about taking the win today for what it is, and doing that means not focusing on something like his father.

"That's good," Michael says, his voice low, and Alex doesn't move, just stands still as Michael walks over to him, a smile pushing up on his lips. He feels Michael's hands on his face, palms against his cheeks and lets Michael kiss him.

He feels the scratch of Michael's beard and the soft press of his lips and Alex presses forward just a little, his hands moving to Michael's hips, bracing himself. The kiss is slow and gentle, and Alex feels like he's falling. There's no rush in either of their actions, Michael's fingertips lightly scratching at the nape of his neck, their noses bumping, and their foreheads end up pressed together as their lips separate.

"I want-" He pauses, pushing back just far enough so he can look up at Michael. He doesn't want to not be looking at him when he speaks. But he thinks of Michael's reluctance to come inside, and he thinks of the words Michael had once expressed to him about going where Alex wants, and he needs to make sure this is what Michael wants too. "Will you stay the night?"

----------

In the morning, he wakes up tangled up in Michael. There's no panic that sets in, no worry about one of them leaving, even if they haven't talked about the future yet. Because there's time for that now. And Alex knows, believes, they both want one together.

He opens his eyes to find Michael already awake, eyes open and watching him. It should be creepy, but instead all Alex feels is love.

"Morning," Michael says, leaning in and gently kissing his lips.

"Been awake long?"

Michael shakes his head. "I've never watched you sleep before. You always-" He cuts himself off and Alex can fill in the rest himself. He knows this story too.

Last night had been different though, from anything they'd ever done in the past. It felt like a new beginning for them, the way the whole day had. Michael had drawn the bath while Alex had gone through his nightly routine, finally getting the chance to remove his prosthetic. And as Alex had laid back in the tub, letting the hot water soothe his sore muscles, Michael had sat on the floor next to the tub, resting his head on his arm, and they'd just… talked.

Talked in a way they never had before. Alex had listened as Michael had finally told him everything he'd learned from Jones - from the white lies to the discovery of his own origins. He'd been unable to stop himself from taking Michael's hand as he talked about his mother, the way he'd started to doubt his own feelings about her, and the things she had done. Most shocking of all was when Michael asked to show him something, and Alex had just nodded before he was watching as Michael pulled a lighter out of his jeans and held the flame to the skin of his palm.

Instinct had him snatching Michael's hand, pulling it away from the flame - but his skin was perfect. The flame hadn't harmed him.

"I want to make you breakfast," Michael says instead.

Alex laughs, immediately burying his face into Michael's shoulder, because while a great idea, he doesn't exactly keep a fully stocked kitchen. Especially since he's a terrible cook himself, and restocking the fridge after his year spent cleaning up Project Shepherd messes hasn't been a huge priority.

"I'd like that except…" he lets his voice trail off, but leans up and kisses Michael. "I'm not sure there's much in the fridge to cook with."

Michael shakes his head, laughing, and Alex kisses him again, pulling himself up so he's leaning over Michael, his fingers stroking Michael's curls, gently tugging on the ends and watching as they spring back into place.

"Another time then."

Alex leans forward, their lips almost touching as he smiles. Because another time is a future they now have together. It's tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. "Tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"I don't want - I meant what I said all those months ago. About starting over. And-" He pauses, thinking about every night he's spent with Michael that ended with one of them leaving, the other never staying. "We've never had breakfast before."

They trade lazy kisses, neither of them able to stop smiling, and it's slow and perfect, and Alex thinks he could stay wrapped up in Michael Guerin forever. But he gets an idea, and it's a good one. And he knows Michael will be okay with it, that Michael will agree to it. Because now he knows Michael feels the same, that Michael wants the same things for them.

"Let's go to the Crashdown," he says against Michael's lips.

Michael pushes back, not away but enough so he's looking at Alex. And there's a flicker of something on his eyes, an old hurt resurfacing that Alex can see. Another thing they need to talk about.

"Like a date?"

Alex rolls his eyes, but kisses Michael again. "Like a date. Like two people having breakfast. I just - I want to do these things with you. I want us to be able to do these things."

"Okay, Manes," Michael replies, pushing up quickly and kissing Alex, like he can't get enough. "Let's go have pancakes."

#roswell new mexico #malex #alex manes #michael guerin #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #ummm have some soft malex this morning #before the episode tonight #because my brain has been nonstop

179 notes · View notes

anothersievefistedfind · 3 years

Photo

Photos © by Michael Ackerman

Fugazi, Palladium, New York City, NY USA, May 1, 1997

This show at the 3000 cap Palladium in NYC kicks off a string of just 6 shows on as many consecutive nights in the states of New York, Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, Massachusetts and Richmond in the first week of May 1997.

The Palladium gig has been well documented and beautifully captured for posterity by friend of the band and acclaimed photographer Glen E. Friedman in his amazing book “Keep Your Eyes Open: The Fugazi Photographs.” A side note by the author reads: “Seeing Fugazi at the Palladium was an incredible event: besides the fact that I had seen fantastic shows there since the late 70’s, this was to be the last live show ever at the legendary venue. The promotor actually claimed he lost money even though the show was sold out (obviously due in part to Fugazi still insisting on a low ticket price); he did it just to be able to claim that he put on a Fugazi show! At this time they were too popular for any other (non-arena) venue in New York, and in fact played a less publicized show the following night just a few blocks away [at the NYU Loeb Center].”

Having not played in front of a live audience since wrapping up the US/Japan/Hong Kong/Australia tour on November 18, 1996 (with the exception of a show at the University of Maryland Baltimore a couple of days prior for which no recording appears to be available), it is remarkable and a testament to their hard work and ardor that the band came out swinging the way they did, firing on all cylinders and treating their NYC audience to another memorable performance.

Even though it is a pretty straightforward show and banter is sparse, the interplay is loose, joyful, with little mistakes dotted around aside from the first lines of Target getting flubbed. And while not heavy on all-out improvisation, the performance does include a number of drawn-out intros and bridges.

The set list flows really well and organically on this occasion, which is particularly striking since the set includes pretty much finished versions (with the exception of Recap Modotti which is clearly still a work in progress both lyrically and musically) of no less than 6 songs which would not see an official release until April of the following year as part of the End Hits album. And yet all of it blends in seamlessly and ingeniously here: Five Corporations (still dubbed Brand X at this point) into Place Position as part of a high-energy string of songs opening the set, Floating Boy into Long Division providing the audience a bit of a breather, Recap Modotti into No Surprise into Pink Frosty as a prelude to the main set finale by way of Target into Instrument.

The recording reveals some small cuts and slightly incomplete songs (Merchandise, Waiting Room) as well as some missing sequences in between encores. Still, clocking in at 1 hour and 44 minutes, it probably documents one of the longer Fugazi performances in the live history of the band. This includes several outstanding encores which had the band launching into a number of hard-hitting, early staples (Give Me The Cure! Suggestion!) to further baffle its unsuspecting audience. A third and last encore with Waiting Room into Bad Mouth closes out the night and tears the roof off, adding to the enjoyment and excitement of everyone participating - before exiting the stage, Ian accordingly addresses the crowd one last time, saying “that must have been the best damn time I’ve had in months, thank you.”

Note that footage of this Palladium show, as shown in Jem Cohen’s Instrument documentary [see picture tracklist: “‘Break’ (Demo), Portraits Of Ticket Line and Live Show: Palladium, NYC 1997”] actually is a mere “trick of the eye.” In the words of Ian: “the live snippet that appears in ‘instrument’ was shot on silent super 8 and the footage was roughly synched up with a demo version of “break". jem just lined up images that worked well with the soundtrack. this was also done with the b&w footage at the monument show that was set to ‘trios’ and the b&w footage from st augustines that was set to ‘guilford fall demo’. jem was spot shooting at the palladium, so there are probably a number of shots from that show, but not the entire performance.”

There appears to be no soundboard recording of this particular show, but there is an audience recording courtesy of John Fazio. While the sound quality is stretched thin, high on treble, suffers slight volume drops here or there and will not win over any audiophiles, it is still listenable and enjoyable. If anything, it adds to the liveliness of the listening experience and portrays a good sense and feel of the room and overall atmosphere. There are people singing and screaming along, there is small talk left and right, and it is fun to be able to eavesdrop on a couple of attendees contemplating and calling the encores as the events unfold.

The recording includes a total of 24 live songs and draws from End Hits (6), Red Medicine (5), In on the Kill Taker (3), Steady Diet of Nothing (2), Repeater (2), 3 Songs seven-inch (1), Margin Walker EP (1) and 7 Songs EP (4).

The set list:

1. Intro 2. Do You Like Me 3. Bed For The Scraping 4. Cassavetes 5. Interlude 1 6. Five Corporations 7. Place Position 8. Reclamation 9. Margin Walker 10. Song #1 11. Interlude 2 12. Floating Boy 13. Long Division 14. Blueprint 15. Merchandise 16. Interlude 3 17. Recap Modotti 18. No Surprise 19. Pink Frosty 20. Target 21. Instrument 22. Encore 1. 23. Give Me The Cure 24. Suggestion 25. Version 26. Encore 2 27. By You 28. Smallpox Champion 29. Encore 3 30. Waiting Room 31. Bad Mouth 32. Outro

#FLS1997 #fugazi #fugazi live series #dischord #new york #new york city #palladium #jem cohen #glen e. friedman #john fazio

26 notes · View notes

dramaticsnakes · 3 years

Text

The Revived - Chapter 11: A walk

This is chapter 11 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @rainbowbutterfrosting and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Tubbo, Ranboo, Michael

Word count: 3205

Cw: guilt, mentions of violence, worry, mentions of death, mentions of bruises, mentions of food

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur considered himself quite the genius when it came to politics and creating whatever he wanted from the ground up. It was one of the things he was proud of, all things considered, and it had left its mark on the world.

Now, Wilbur was standing in said mark and was increasingly uncertain of what to do. His genius encompassed that, but not so much fixing something as fragile as social connections. He didn’t mind this perhaps and had accepted before, that happiness was not the sort of thing he could create. Though Ghostbur, goodhearted Ghostbur, filled Wilbur’s mind with faint whines and cries, that really shouldn’t get to Wilbur the way they did. In short, Ghostbur wasn’t very helpful as of now, and neither was the pit of guilt in his own chest, and the feeling of blood pulsing through his hands.

Wilbur was a genius, but every once in a while when he allowed regret to take a hold, his mind became so foggy, that he couldn’t even hold onto that part of himself. Instead, he was left a numb mess of a person, but he’d tried it so many times, that he knew how to keep such a mess together.

He was walking around, absentmindedly looking at the ruins of the fallen nation, the sight suddenly reminding him of an empty train station that went on forever. Drowning in the lack of air underground, his only escape leaving him behind time and time again.

That was when something slammed into Wilbur’s leg, gripping it tightly. His eyes widened, all instincts telling him that it was time for battle until he looked down to see a familiar toddler.

Although his body didn’t relax much at the sight of Michael, his mind did. He let out a small laugh and kneeled down. “How ya’ doing, little man?”

Michael snorted and rubbed his face into Wilbur’s leg. Wilbur smiled and gently patted the top of the child’s head.

Ghostbur’s quiet voice intruded, “Wait, you didn’t tell me you were going back to the mansion. I- I’m not upset or anything, I just thought… you said you would tell me before you went to the nether.”

Wilbur pursed his lips, but any words he could have spoken were interrupted. “Oh hey, Wilbur!” He looked up and saw Tubbo. He looked slightly out of breath, but fine nonetheless. Ranboo stood next to him, grabbing a red rope from off of the ground. Wilbur tilted his head at this, even more so when he saw it connected to something on Michael.

“Nice to see you again, Tubbo!” Although his voice showed the enthusiasm it normally would have, Tubbo winced from it. Wilbur furrowed his brows in confusion, expecting an explanation.

After a moment of silence, Ranboo spoke, “Where did you get the bruises from?”

Wilbur’s confused expression stayed until he remembered his encounter with Niki. He doubted his interaction with Tommy would have bruised yet, but he still gently held his throat. He didn’t know why, but the action felt reassuring to him.

But what should Wilbur even tell them? ‘I was kidnapped by one of the kindest people I know and she hit me repeatedly because she thought I was someone pretending to be me,’ wasn’t exactly a conversation he wanted to have. After a few seconds he settled on, “It’s a long story.” It wasn’t the answer anyone wanted, but it would have to suffice. Besides, he wasn’t exactly lying to them. Part of him reasoned that it was a lie of omission, but he shoved that part of him deeper than the hole of L’Manberg was. He tried to change the topic, “How have you guys been?” He stopped patting Michael’s head in exchange for rubbing his back gently. Michael looked up at Wilbur, and he almost melted from the adorableness in the toddler’s eyes.

Tubbo answered, “We’ve been good. We were just taking Michael on a bit of a walk, typically no one’s in L’Manberg due to it being all… yeah. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like?”

“Oh… I…” Wilbur wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, all things considered. The interaction from before lingered in his mind, but he tried his best to push it aside. “I mean,” he swallowed, “I guess I’ve got fuck-all else to do, huh.” he chuckled, though Ghostbur made a strange noise, that caused it to falter.

“We’re… We’re still by L’Manberg?” he asked, breathing deeply, “Okay.” he still didn’t seem too cheery, though he hadn’t commented on the fact that Tommy hadn’t returned. Perhaps he’d forgotten, and Wilbur wasn’t sure why that thought filled him with all sorts of feelings that weren’t relief.

“Cool!” Tubbo said, and his smile was there, but the hesitance of the time apart was clear, and Wilbur wasn’t too fond of it. There was something grim, and disconcerting about the simple fact, that Tubbo still seemed to believe in him.

Wilbur watched as Michael grunted and smiled at all three of them. The toddler reached out for Wilbur’s hand, and for a mere second, Wilbur felt a strangely comforting feeling rush through his body. He accepted the hand, partially expecting it to be drawn away immediately, but the toddler’s hand lingered.

Wilbur Soot, the genius behind L’Manberg and its destruction, a semi-collected mess of a person, and the one who cheated out of death, was holding the hand of a toddler. Tubbo laughed warmly at the sight. “Michael’s been going on and on about you since you left, you know.”

“What’s this feeling in my hand?” Ghostbur asked curiously, though he let out a calm breath, “It… It feels nice.”

“Has he now?” Wilbur asked softly, his eyes not leaving the child. “I suppose I am a bit unforgettable,” he said slightly louder.

That provoked a laugh from all of them, and perhaps Wilbur could take this moment for his own as if he had the right to something this simple. Just for now, while he was waiting for a chance to continue on with his plans, or until he was left alone to his thoughts again. Or well, as alone as you could be when you had a ghost inside your head.

The three of them walked through L’Manberg, and Wilbur took in the ruins of buildings he had never had the chance to see when they were complete, a strange melancholy stinging his throat. Eventually, they made it to Church Prime, a building Wilbur remembered quite clearly, and that still seemed mostly intact.

“We were going to go visit Puffy for some flowers,” Tubbo explained, but before Wilbur had the chance to ask who the hell Puffy was, Ranboo butted it.

“Actually… Yikes, some of the flowers might be yellow. It might not be a good idea to bring Michael in for that.” he laughed awkwardly.

“Oh shit, yeah!” Tubbo said, “You may have a point.”

Wilbur exhaled sharply through his nose, as he watched the two ponder the situation.

“I can just go into the flower shop myself.” Ranboo said, with a smile, “You guys catch up!”

Before they knew it Ranboo was heading off to a little building across from Church Prime, that Wilbur hadn’t seen before, and Michael looked distractedly in that direction.

If Wilbur could see his ghost counterpart, he feels like he would have seen friendly waving as Ghostbur spoke, “Bye Ranboo!” Ghostbur gasped in realization, “Oh, he’s probably coming back with Tommy!” Wilbur ignored the second comment.

“Hey hey, Mikey.” Tubbo said, walking into Michael’s line of sight, “Dad’s doing fine, and there’s nothing interesting over there. Uncle Wilbur is right here.”

At the words, Wilbur froze on the spot, almost enough for his hand to slip out of the toddler’s. He let out a disbelieving soft breath. “Uncle?” he said, chuckling lightly, almost as if he was mocking the title, but if someone glanced at him for too long, something genuine would probably show.

“Oooh,” Tubbo giggled a little, “We’ve been calling you that to Michael, just because it felt right, you know? It’s easier for him to understand that way.” he looked at Wilbur, “Do you mind it?”

“I mean, I guess not.” Wilbur looked at Michael, “I would make a very cool uncle.” He felt something in his chest when he said that. It wasn’t the typical regret, but rather a warmness that he welcomed eagerly.

Tubbo scoffed, “You mean the creepy uncle everyone has?”

Ghostbur seemed confused, “Wait, do I have a creepy uncle? I don’t think I’ve ever met him.” Ghostbur’s saddened tone almost made Wilbur laugh.

Wilbur lightly shoved Tubbo, moments from his and Tommy’s interaction flooded his mind, but he pushed them away. “You mean the cool uncle that plans on giving Michael so many presents.” His voice transitioned into a warmer, slightly higher pitch near the end as he gave Michael’s hand a little squeeze. Michael jumped up at that, excitement filling his eyes.

Endearment found its way into Wilbur’s voice, “What kind of stuff does he like?”

Tubbo laughed quietly, “Literally anything yellow. Prime, he goes crazy for anything that’s yellow and metallic.”

“Oh yeah, it probably reminds him of gold right?”

“Yeah- well at least that’s what we think.” Tubbo thought for a moment, “He likes golden carrots or golden apples. But aside from stuff that’s yellow, he really likes books.”

“He also likes doing stories too! What’s the word called…” Ghostbur mumbled some things before snapping his fingers, “Roleplaying! Michael loved pretending he was a dinosaur. Sometimes I was the dinosaur though. It depended on the day.” Wilbur enjoyed the thought of little Michael roaring and trying to be threatening. Perhaps he’d roleplay with Michael one day.

Wilbur found himself releasing a quick noise, that might’ve been amusement, and might’ve been recognized. “Really?” he said. He thought of declarations and nations. He thought of signatures and speeches, and vaguely, somewhere in his mind, where Ghostbur’s memories lurked, he thought of history books, and yearning to understand the world. He thought of writing and observing, and feeling more and more accomplished with each stroke of the pen. “The little man has good taste,” Wilbur said, grinning at the child, who looked up with glee.

“Takes it after his father.” Wilbur didn’t bother asking which one- the twinkle in Tubbo’s eyes already told him.

Tubbo seemed happy. It wasn’t new of course, Tubbo always had quite a positive demeanor, though there was something different about this happiness. His back was less straightened. While he lacked the suit Wilbur had given him, the clothes he wore seemed to fit him even better, the more Wilbur looked. The two of them walked, and Wilbur occasionally glanced at the boy, who was still young despite everything.

Who was married and had a child. Married to someone, who appeared to have little to no idea what he believed in. But Tubbo was happy.

“I was a bit worried about Michael when the egg stuff started happening.” Tubbo said, “He isn’t quite as crazy about red, but he sure is fond of it.” he said with a warm chuckle.

Wilbur nodded but paused in the middle of it, his face scrunching up confusedly. “I’m sorry, did you say egg? What egg?”

“Oh, Tubbo likes cooking! Maybe he was making some breakfast earlier?” Wilbur almost felt jealous about Ghostbur’s ability to feel satisfied with his own answers.

“Oh!” Tubbo said, realization spreading across his face, “Shit, you really did miss a beat huh. It was this uh, it’s kind of hard to explain.” he laughed awkwardly, “To be honest, I don’t even think I ever learned what was going on with that.”

“Is it still a problem?” Although it had been implied that not many wars happened without him, images of a new government called “The Egg” flooded his mind. He gripped Michael’s hand a little tighter, but realized it immediately and loosened it. Michael took it as a friendly squeeze and squeezed back. Although Michael was trying his hardest to squeeze, the zombie piglin wasn’t very strong so it came off as reassuring cuteness rather than a hurtful action.

“I don’t think so,” Tubbo thought for a moment. “It uh… I think it controlled people? It’s still sort of messy in my head. I just remember heading down there with Tommy once and… feeling different afterward.”

“What do you mean by different?” Their lighthearted conversation shifted towards Wilbur worrying about this thing that apparently controlled people. Was Tubbo still controlled? The air seemed to grow tense between them.

“I don’t remember any of it myself. Apparently, I was crying and not leaving the egg. If I try really hard I can remember for a bit, but it’s too much stress for too little reward.” Tubbo shrugged it off, “I think it’s mostly handled though.”

Although most of his worries were dealt with, a question lingered in his mind. “Is Tommy alright?” The words were quieter compared to his earlier ones, but not by much. Just enough for Wilbur to notice.

“Yeah! Well- from the egg he’s seemed alright. Right now, I don’t think he’s doing too swell.” Tubbo looked over at a random bush. Wilbur understood the cloudiness of the boy’s mind.

“He seems the same to me.” Sure, the child was quite rude to him, and frequently dismissed him, but Wilbur figured it was from him being a teenager and trying to explore his boundaries of freedom.

Tubbo hummed in acknowledgment, “Maybe it’s just me then. But-” Tubbo cut himself off with a sigh, “Part of me says it’s the Ghostbur stuff getting to him.”

“Wait, what does he mean? I thought you said they couldn’t hear me like you could?” Ghostbur’s confusion collided with the warmness that came across Wilbur’s head.

Not a good warmness, but one that invaded the mind and makes your thoughts mixed together. He quickly stated, “I mean he was only here for six months at most. I’m still him in a way.” Wilbur thought he heard a hurt sound from Ghostbur, but he reasoned with himself that Ghostbur probably didn’t know what they were talking about.

Hesitance showed through Tubbo’s expression. He pursed his lips, “I mean- yeah I guess so. It's mainly... seeing him 'die' in front of him thing, most of it being Tommy's plan as well. It doesn't help that it was him who did it.” Tubbo met Wilbur’s gaze at the end, although the need for approval still shined in his eyes.

Although pity hummed in the back of his mind, most of it from Ghostbur, curiosity consumed his thoughts, “Who’s him?”

Ghostbur whined in his mind, mumbling something he couldn’t quite pick up. Tubbo inhaled deeply. He breathed out, “Dream.” Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the mention.

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, partially at Ghostbur’s reaction and partially at what Ghostbur was reacting to. How much more was the ghost not telling Wilbur? How many more details of his life did he not know? Wilbur couldn’t think of a response, so he simply responded with a hum of acknowledgment.

Tubbo gladly continued, “I… I just feel really bad for him. I somehow feel bad for saying I wish I could take some of it off of him.” Tubbo let out a somber laugh near the end.

“Yeah, the wars were pretty stressful, to say the least.” An odd chuckle left Wilbur. It wasn’t one that he meant to do, but one that came in because it seemed to fit best.

Tubbo sighed, “No I mean the- I don't even know all the details. I've just heard that Dream did something to Tommy while he was in exile. Then the whole beating him to death thing…” Tubbo’s silence spoke for both of them. “I'm glad the guy is in prison, but at the same time, I feel like he deserves worse. Y'know?” Tubbo held a hand over his mouth with embarrassment, “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a bad person when I say that. Spending the rest of your life in prison sucks- of course it does! It’s just the fact that he’s ruined so many people’s lives.” Tubbo’s quiet voice contradicted Wilbur’s loud thoughts.

While vague memories from some exile Wilbur barely remembered briefly entered his mind, the loudest thought ran with the words ‘beating him to death,’ but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He saw Tommy in limbo. He played cards and joked with him for months. Yet, he never wanted as tragic of a death for the poor kid. Perhaps a gunshot or a high fall to make it quick and painful instead of the agony he went through. During his first few years in limbo, he got more phantom stabs in his abdomen than he could count with all the hands he’d ever seen.

Tubbo squinted concerningly at Wilbur’s silence, “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you… sorry.”

Wilbur closed his eyes for a moment, “No no, it’s alright. I’m just processing it… it’s a lot to take in.”

Tubbo awkwardly laughed, “Yep.” The air felt constricting to Wilbur, but Tubbo seemed to be breathing fine to him. Perhaps it was the punch Tommy gave him earlier. Finally giving him the understanding it couldn’t before.

Wilbur couldn’t stand the silence, so he focused his attention on his first thought. Michael. “So what’s the thing around Michael’s chest?” Some kind of red thing was around Michael’s chest. It looked like a vest, but it clashed horribly with his outfit.

“Oh! It’s a… please don’t call us bad parents, it’s a harness for kids that tend to run a lot.” Tubbo avoided Wilbur’s gaze sheepishly.

Wilbur managed to laugh at the situation. Yet, he would never know if he was laughing for Tubbo’s comfort or genuine happiness. He could hear that it sounded drier than it usually would. “A leash? I’ve never seen a leash designed for children.” A small smile found its way onto Wilbur’s face.

Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Ranboo was the one to originally offer the idea. Apparently it was something designed by the Americans. But I do have to admit.” Tubbo looked at Michael with a sense of confused astonishment, “It’s been working pretty well so far. Michael likes taking walks, and we like him not running into a ravine. Plus, he’s not really used to the overworld yet.” When Michael heard his name, he let go of Wilbur’s hand and ran in front of his father, doing ‘grabby’ hands up towards the air.

Tubbo chuckled, “Alright, M.” Tubbo lifted Michael up, the toddler squealing along the way. Tubbo hugged his son, and looked back to Wilbur. “We even made the harness thingy red so he would be a little happier with his temporary prison.” Wilbur's eyes went to the harness that was connected to a red rope that he saw Ranboo holding earlier.

Wilbur nodded, “Makes sense.” His gaze drifted towards the direction Ranboo ran off in. “When’s Ranboo gonna be back?”

Tubbo thought for a moment, “I would think soon, but we could check on him.” He gave Wilbur an apologetic glance, “He gets a bit indecisive at times.” Wilbur barely resisted rolling his eyes.

“Lead the way, Tubster.”

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #ghostbur #revivedbur #alivebur #tubbo #c!tubbo #ranboo #c!ranboo #michael_beloved #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #The Revived

7 notes · View notes

inawickedlittletown · 3 years

Text

Alone Together - meta/review

This was such a good episode! I think while I thoroughly enjoyed 4x01 and the way that it got us back into the rhythm of things especially with, you know, a pandemic happening, 4x02 got us back into the usual balance of emergency and personal aspects.

Spoilers below:

The episode begins with news coverage and it’s a good way to jump right into what’s happening and give us a recap to last week. And then we meet the three roommates. I can’t be bothered with remembering their names, but they were fun. The dynamic there is interesting and of course, this leads into some really awesome shots of the Hollywood sign breaking and the mudslide. The whole sequence is such a good opening for the episode and it sets our scene well. While I don’t have any complaints, this emergency is smaller scale to the tsunami and the earthquake of the past two season openings, but that isn’t much of a problem when we consider that they shot this in the middle of a pandemic. So, it works.

What I found most interesting about this episode, and in a way how it continues the stories that were begun in 4x01, is that we delve further into the personal. Not every character is featured heavily, but we get small and big moments with all of them.

Athena:

The struggle that Athena has faced since the end of last season has been handled so well. Her trauma and how it lingers on her and yet doesn’t change how strong and fierce and amazing she is, is amazing to watch. It’s inspiring. Having Athena be right in the midst of everything especially when she wasn’t supposed to be just fits so perfectly. Having her contrast with Sylvia who is afraid of leaving her own house, and having Athena rescue Sylvia and herself and not give up, not even when the voice of dispatch was her daughter asking her to save herself. I just love Athena so damn much. She went through a journey in this episode and while I don’t think that her trauma is over, I think she will push herself to move forward and move past it. If not just for herself, then for May.

I also really appreciated that we got a moment where Athena gives her approval of David by telling Michael that David looks tired. It was such a nice touch. The Athena and Michael relationship has been developed so well from S1, to a place where they are both with other people but can still be family.

And finding out that May made the choice to be a dispatcher over going to school to be about her mom felt absolutely right and I feel so much for both of them and both sides, but I do have to say that May’s outlet for her lack of control in her life/the life of her loved ones is at least healthy and it’s making a difference.

Lastly, I will never not be fond of Bobby and Athena — the way that Bobby was allowed to go search for her personally and that moment when they saw each other. His promise to always search for her. After everything Bobby went through during Athena’s attack, it’s easy to think about how difficult this was for Bobby.

Chimney:

The other big focus of this episode was Chimney. 4x01 set up the living arrangements and it was immediately apparent that while Chimney had his reasons, that he didn’t need to be as set on that. After all we’re told that both Eddie and Hen went back home to their kids, so Chim should have gone home to Maddie and his unborn baby.

It’s nice that we begin this conversation with Buck and Chim, instead of directly involving Maddie. We already know how Maddie feels about this — she misses Chim and wants him around.

Chim’s joke about his “bad joke” being a “dad joke” was perfectly in line with his type of humor and it set us up for the conversation to come in which we learn that Chim’s whole problem is not just concern about the pandemic, but a deeper fear that he won’t be a good parent. His convo with Buck certainly offers some insight into his worry, but also the willingness that Chim has to do absolutely anything necessary for his baby, whose gender the characters and us, the viewers, don’t get to know yet.

The rescues that Chimney and Buck end up going on begin with Chimney — not Buck — hearing a baby crying. And just like with Athena, the emergency itself gives Chim more insight into himself and into his situation and into what he needs to do. He rescues the baby, finds a bunch of pregnant ladies, and then goes on to deliver a baby and while talking to the mother, I think Chim finally gets to understand what the importance that being present for Maddie means.

We get a very sweet moment where Maddie arrives home and finds Chimney already there and the whole thing is just emotional enough both from Chimney’s perspective of just how pregnant Maddie is and Maddie’s surprise and joy to have him there with her. They really are the sweetest together. And by the time that we’re in the closing parts of the episode and we see Maddie and Chimney on a video call with the new roommates — uncles to be Buck and Albelt, it’s clear that they’re settled together and happy and that Chimney knows better than to argue about coffee.

Hen:

Ms. Henrietta Wilson knows how to emote with her eyes. We first see her reactions to Chimney’s bad joke and just her general demeanour and it’s all perfect, and then gets better when she’s reacting to Bobby’s facts about the Hollywood sign. In a liveblog post I said this was very Buck and I stand by it. Not just the rattling of facts, but the need to research a new place in some way.

But where it gets good is when we see Hen in the middle of the drama among the roommates. Hen does so much with just a slight widening of her eyes, or a look in a certain direction. The timing is absolutely perfect and is practically alone in making that scene funny.

Other than these small moments we don’t get much of Hen in this episode, but we do get the sweetest moment towards the end where we get to see Hen and Karen’s daughter, Nia. Not only is this little girl adorable, but with just a couple of lines, I’m sure she’s stolen every viewer’s heart. And to add to this, the love and pride that Karen feels for Hen radiates. I cannot wait for the show to go further into Hen’s experiences on her road to becoming a doctor.

Bobby:

Bobby mostly plays the part of a secondary character to everyone else’s story. We see plenty of him and we learn that he’s the one with facts about the Hollywood sign. Mostly, I enjoyed that he played a part in finding Athena and I think it was an interesting choice to have him keep his composure and be professional. In some ways this relates to May and the conversation that May has with Maddie about the need to put feelings and personal stuff aside to do the job. And yet we know that after what Athena has recently gone through, that none of that could have been easy for Bobby.

Eddie:

Very little Eddie once more. I’m honestly not concerned about it to be honest. I’ve seen a lot of talk about how little he shows up in promo stuff and all that, but I just think it’s important to remember that this is an ensemble show with a rather large cast and that it’s entirely possible focus on his character will come in other episodes. And to consider that he’s one of the characters that was chosen for the cross-over.

But we did get to see minor Buck and Eddie interaction, and more importantly we got to see Eddie and Christopher.

And I think it was so important to bring Carla in, even over video, because she really is a huge part of Chris’ life. It does lead to the question of who is taking care of Christopher while Eddie is at work? How is school being handled for him? And it was just so lovely to see Eddie fall asleep at a bedtime story too.

Buck:

He is just so damn smart. Who would have thought to follow the feedback to find that baby? Buck is the kind of character that takes in the variables and finds a way to problem solve. He’s the kind of smart that you want and need in a crisis. And he’s also very cognizant of what’s going on with Chimney and his sister enough to be able to try and get through to Chimney about how he needs to move back home. I just love the consistency of having Buck be research crazy, quick to figure things out, and still at times a dumbass. It’s what makes him so perfect.

I also appreciate that he’s called out for having too many rules by Albert and I just want to know all about the rules that Buck would impose on those staying at his place other than the sharing of chores that is mentioned in the episode.

I’m also very curious about Buck and his therapist, the covid crush that literally everyone on the internet scoffed at and figured out even before last week’s episode aired. We were all right. It was fun to see all the crazy theories, though. But I do find it interesting that Buck feels he needs to hide the therapist from everyone because that isn’t really about what he and the therapist might be talking about, as much as it is about not wanting to be judged for needing a therapist.

And his feelings are absolutely valid. Not because I think anyone in the 118, or Maddie, will judge him for needing it, but that they do sometimes her pushy with things and wanting to know more — we see that already with the covid crush thing — but I think it’s also to do with not wanting to explain himself and all of this is even more valid with the knowledge that we have about Buck’s parents showing up.

But, the fandom at large has wanted Buck to talk to a professional for a long time, so I think we’re all very happy that he’s getting help. And I’m also very glad that we got the reveal in this episode and it wasn’t drawn out and made out to be something it isn’t for much longer.

Dr. Copeland. They really know how to pick names on 9-1-1, don’t they?

But of the small clip we get to see of her, it is clear that she is helping Buck and Buck begins the therapy session we get to see by admitting that Dr. Copeland might be right about him hiding his true feelings and Buck, holy hell, what does that mean?

Because, it could literally mean anything. It could be about his sexuality and discovery about his romantic feelings about a fellow firefighter. Or it could be that it’s about how much of himself he hides away or doesn’t present to the world in light of, you know, all the trauma that he’s faced and that we’ve all wanted addressed. This could also tie in some way to his past and that doesn’t have to take away from possible reveals about his sexuality. Mostly, it just makes me more and more excited for Buck Begins.

Overall, an excellent episode. I love the things it touches upon and how the show isn’t steering directly into a deep focus on covid and instead giving us these moments of things have changed and this is how it is now from seeing everyone in masks, to seeing Hen going to her class online, and even down to Buck’s therapy happening over a screen. It is excellently handled when it comes to David and Michael and not only in the confirmation that they are living together in spite of the possible contact with the virus, but in how we see them handle that. Michael taking care of his man. All of that was lovely.

The episode closed out on an amazing note, giving us these momentary glimpses into where everyone is and their familial spaces and the love and acceptance felt there and all the small tidbits and hints at what may be coming up.

#911 fox #911 meta #911 spoilers #911 on fox #spoilers

19 notes · View notes

adenei · 3 years

Text

Fake It Til You Make It - Ch. 5

AO3 || FFN

Ginny walked into the dining hall a few days after trials. She’d been doing her best to keep to herself and lay low to not attract any more attention. Harry seemed to be spending more and more time with the other boys on the team, and they never invited Ginny to join them, not that she cared. She spent her time getting to know the campus instead.

When she got bored, not to mention smelly enough, she’d catch a bus across town to visit the twins and shower at their place. The boy’s dorm showers were configured the same as the locker room, and Ginny couldn’t take any chances. Of course, now that classes had started, the time constraints wouldn’t allow her to take daily trips to the twins’ flat, so she needed to figure out how to shower at school.

Ginny grabbed a sandwich and other various lunch items before searching for a table to sit at. She noticed Harry and the rest of the guys sitting across the room and decided to join them since there was an extra seat.

“Hey, my dudes, what’s up?” Ginny asked as she sat down.

They all stared at her for a moment before returning to their conversation. Well, at least they didn’t get up and leave me here alone. She knew she sounded ridiculous, but part of her thought it was hilarious. It was worth all the flack she’d get from Ron once he returned. He needed some repercussions for taking off and leaving her to cover.

Ginny was drawn out of her thoughts when the boys grew quiet. She followed their stares to the food line where two girls in short skirts were swiping their meal cards. One of them looked like that girl Ginny ran into on her first day. Hermione, she remembered.

“Damn, they just keep getting finer with age, don’t they?” Seamus asked.

Ginny noticed that Harry had grown oddly quiet and slack-jawed. “Are you talking about Hermione? Oooh yeah, damn! That arse is fine, am I right?” Ginny said, thinking that’s what the guys wanted to hear.

“Hey! Don’t talk about her like that! She’s not a piece of meat,” Harry said defensively.

“Whoa, sorry,” Ginny backpedalled. “You into her or something?”

Nevile and Colin both snorted in laughter as Colin said, “Only for the last three and a half years.”

Ginny looked at him. “And you haven’t made a move because…”

“She’s always had a boyfriend,” Harry sounded dejected.

“Yeah, but on the bright side, she and her college boyfriend are over now, so you’ll be able to swoop in and make a move when the time is right,” Neville reminded him.

“Why don’t you just go over and talk to her now?” Ginny was confused by their logic.

“Because she’s still upset over the break-up! Look how sad she is,” Dean sounded affronted.

“Yeah, you don’t just go over there and talk to the girl you’ve fancied forever. Especially if you don’t want to be the rebound,” Seamus agreed.

Ginny looked over at Hermione, who was now sitting at a table with her friend. Hermione happened to look up and lock eyes with her. She flashed a smile, which Ginny returned.

“Whoa, did she just smile at you?” Colin asked.

“Uh, yeah?” Ginny said.

“What the hell, man?!” Harry punched her in the shoulder.

“What? It’s common courtesy to smile back, isn’t it? I’m not trying to steal her away from you or anything.” She was surprised how defensive the guys were getting over one girl.

“Aw, what the hell is he doing?” Harry said as he shook his head in defeat.

A guy with perfectly coiffed white-blonde hair and an impeccably starched uniform slid into the seat next to Hermione. Ginny saw her face immediately sour at his presence. Ginny commiserated with Hermione, who was doing her best to be polite, even though it was clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Been there, Ginny thought.

“Who is he?” Ginny asked.

“Draco Malfoy. The most obnoxious goody-two-shoes in our year. He’ll literally do anything to get what he wants,” Neville explained.

“Ah,” something about the blonde bloke was rubbing Ginny the wrong way.

Draco must have said the wrong thing to Hermione. No sooner had he sat down and attempted to engage her in conversation, Hermione gave him a disgusted look, got up with her friend and walked away. All the guys at Ginny’s table laughed at his failed attempt as he shot them a nasty look.

“So, who’s looking forward to the Beauxbatons game?” Ginny changed the subject.

The group eyed her. “It’s just another game. We’re going to crush them like we always do,” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah, but it’s the season opener. Personally, I think it’s rubbish that I got put on second string. I really wanted a chance to kick their arses,” Ginny complained.

“Why do you care so much?” Harry asked.

“Oh, uh, my sister goes to Beauxbatons. Michael, her prat of an ex is on the team.”

“You have a sister?” Dean asked as Ginny nodded.

“Wait, which one’s her ex?” Seamus asked.

“The goalie and team captain.”

“Oh, that twat? He picked a fight with me last year,” Harry said. “He’s a joke, honestly. Thinks he’s God’s gift to football, yet he couldn’t stop any of my goals.” All the boys laughed in agreement.

“What’d your sister see in him anyway?” Dean asked.

“Not sure. He was a prick. She’s better off without him. So, what are you going to do about Hermione? Better get a move on. Otherwise, someone else is going to tap that before you get a chance. Am I right?” Ginny waggled her eyebrows.

She thought she was reading them accurately, but all the boys just shook their heads and stood up to leave. Despite growing up with a household of brothers, Ginny was beginning to think she would never get the hang of ‘being a guy.’

It was almost midnight when Ginny decided to take a chance and head for the showers. The halls were quiet, and she hoped that since they had classes the next day, most of the guys were finally getting to sleep. Thankfully, the bathroom was blissfully empty, and Ginny sighed in relief. She started unwrapping the binder and set it on the counter as she spread her bag of toiletries and things about. Unfortunately, her solitude was short-lived.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Ginny jumped back in surprise and looked up to see the blonde-haired bloke staring incredulously at her. Thank goodness she’d kept her robe on and hadn’t taken the wig off yet.

“Excuse me?” She responded.

“Your stuff is everywhere!” he scoffed, picking up her towel between two fingers and tossing it at her.

“I...didn’t know that was a violation of anything?” Ginny retorted.

“Yes, it’s under code 31.7: Bathroom Etiquette,” he shot back.

Ginny lifted her hands in a gesture of mock defeat as she said, “Well, sorry, didn’t realize it’d be the end of the world if I spread my stuff out in a deserted bathroom.” She rolled her eyes.

“As you should be.”

She grabbed her things to go back to the room. Maybe four in the morning would be a better option. They’d all have to be asleep then, right?

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced yet. I’m Draco Malfoy, Dorm Director. It’d be best for you to stay on my good side if you know what I mean.”

Ginny could barely believe his nerve. She opened her mouth to tell him sod off when Harry walked in and overheard Draco’s warning to her. Draco didn’t hear him coming, and Harry lifted his towel and whipped Draco in the head with it. She couldn’t hide the chortle that escaped her lips.

“Leave him alone, Malferret,” Harry said. “No one cares about the rules in the dorm handbook.”

“You say that until you break one of them and get kicked out!” Malfoy defended.

Harry waved him off as Ginny said, “Well, this has been a riveting conversation, but I’ve got other places to be.”

She made a quick escape out the door as she longed for the day when she’d be able to shower when she wanted again. That night, Ginny fell into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares on the football field. Coach McGonagall called her onto the field, but she was dressed as her usual self. No, not just her normal self; she was wearing a poofy pink dress that she could barely run in, and Aunt Muriel was on the sidelines mocking her. She ultimately made a fool of herself, as everyone on both teams laughed at her.

When she woke up, she was ready to throw in the towel. None of this was worth it. She was stuck on second string, her teammates thought she was insane, and she couldn’t keep up with Ron’s coursework. Professor Flitwick could have been lecturing them in a completely different language for all she knew. She had no idea how to read music, and even after poring over the texts, she still had no idea what chords were.

Yeah, she was done. Having Ron fake an illness was the easier way to go. The twins would surely help her cover, right?

#hp muggle au #ginny weasley #she's the man inspired

10 notes · View notes

mst3kproject · 3 years

Photo

The Atomic Submarine

I’ve had this one sitting around for a while. It’s a pretty dull 1950’s White Men vs the Saucer People movie, which attempts to differentiate itself from the crowd by taking place underwater instead of in outer space. It features Brett Halsey from The Girl in Lover’s Lane and a few moments of Jean Moorhead from The Violent Years, and has parts for Jack Mulhall and Paul Dubov from The She-Creature.

It is… the future. The US and the USSR are friends now, and passenger submarines regularly run between the two under the polar ice! But all is not well – the USS Sturgeon, largest of this arctic fleet, suffers a reactor meltdown somewhere just shy of the North Pole, resulting in the loss of all hands. The Pentagon convenes some guys in suits, and decides to send another submarine, the Tiger Shark, to figure out what happened. When the Tiger Shark encounters a mysterious electrical phenomenon, their scientists conclude that the only possible answer is creatures from outer space!

I seem to be making a tradition out of starting with the shitty science, so here’s a good one: the Flying Saucer’s source of power is stated to be magnetic – that’s why it has to return to the North Pole every time it sinks a ship, to recharge. Except… that’s not how the magnetic field works. In the late fifties and early sixties, the north magnetic pole was somewhere near the southern end of Bathurst Island in Nunavut (as of 2020, it’s on its way into Siberia and is actually closer to geographic north than it’s been in centuries). Sailors would definitely know that, making this plot point kind of hilarious to anybody actually in the navy.

I mentioned Moorhead… she and Joi Lansing (who was once in a movie called Queen of Outer Space) are the only women in the entire movie. They occur in the same scene, which seems to serve only to remind us that women exist, and have no effect on the plot whatsoever. Once we’ve entered the submarine where most of the film is set, the cast is entirely similar-looking guys in uniforms, and there are no romantic reunions at the end. The Atomic Submarine couldn’t even give us the requisite 50’s movie Cute Girl Scientist. I guess they were going for realism in their story about trans-arctic Soviet passenger subs and one-eyed semi-aquatic aliens.

On to the actual movie. The first ‘character’ we hear from is the deep-voiced 50’s narrator, who sounds exactly like the guy rhapsodizing about radar at the beginning of The Deadly Mantis, but I looked him up and Patrick Michaels has never narrated any other movie. I guess there’s just a category of men that have 50’s Movie Narrator Voice. His job is to sound portentous as he talks about things that are either irrelevant or else stuff the movie could have showed us but chose to tell instead. He falls silent for long stretches of movie and then pops up again, interrupting the flow of the story every time.

The special effects in The Atomic Submarine are okay – they’re nothing ground-breaking, but considerable effort seems to have gone into them. The saucer and the submarines are obviously small models but they’re nice and the underwater photography is quite atmospheric. I especially like the little submersible the Tiger Shark carries, the Lungfish, which was clearly designed based on ideas for such machines that were in the works at the time. There’s a shot of the saucer breaking through the ice cap and rising into the air which looks really good until the saucer itself actually emerges, wobbling on top of a rod. The one-eyed alien inside the saucer is nice and gooey and parts of it look like they’re made out of living sea creatures.

Like many movies on MST3K, The Atomic Submarine has some germs of good ideas in it, and like the rest of them, fails to do anything much with it. The flying saucer – maybe we should call it a swimming saucer – is described as a living organism, possibly the same organism as its pilot. The aliens themselves are biological engineers who will use humans as a template for altering themselves to live on Earth. That’s pretty cool, but is ultimately not important to the plot. Besides the pilot, who seems to have been assembled by a variety of marine organisms, the inside of the saucer doesn’t look particularly organic. If nothing else they had an opportunity for some really neat visuals here, but let it slip through their fingers.

The alien intelligence remains unseen and inscrutable for much of the movie. This theoretically builds suspense but there’s honestly not a lot of suspense here. A plot summary makes The Atomic Submarine sound like an exciting adventure, but the impression one gets from actually watching the film is that it’s kind of a day at the office. In a way, that’s fairly realistic – the crew of the Tiger Shark aren’t a ragtag group of misfits, they’re professionals doing their jobs which just so happen on this particular day to include saving the world. Unfortunately, this doesn’t make for a very exciting movie. An awful lot of scenes are just suspenseful music over footage of men in uniforms frowning at things. Rather than feeling any excitement, the audience just wants to get to the damn aliens already.

The movie’s only about half over by the time we do enter the swimming saucer to meet the one-eyed, tentacled beast within, but it feels like we’ve been here for hours. Once the boarding party enters the craft, some things do happen but they’re still not exciting. Three of the four men die, one by being cut in half by a sliding door and two getting melted by intense radiation – these deaths are surprisingly explicit and gruesome for a 50’s movie, but they’re drawn out far too long and don’t serve a plot purpose. If the alien killed the men to stop them cutting the Tiger Shark free of where it rammed the vessel’s hull, that would be one thing, but it appears to do it just because.

The main characters all sort of look the same, as lumpy-faced white guys in old movies tend to do. The only one who really stands out from the crowd is Dr. Nielson, the son of the scientist who invented the Lungfish and an avowed pacifist who’s only on this mission because he knows his father wanted to see the sub used. He has a running beef with an old friend of his father’s who thinks he’s a coward, all talk and no action. This is supposed to be the movie’s main arc and yet it fails to go anywhere on just about every level.

Neilson spends much of the movie insisting that he isn’t a coward, which one would assume is a lead-up to him doing something heroic. It’s not. He’s just here to drive the Lungfish and that’s literally the only thing he does – he takes the boarding party to the saucer, and then sits there and waits for the sole survivor to return. There’s a bit where the captain of the Tiger Shark decides to ram the saucer with the sub in order to get through its defenses, and Neilson speaks up, pointing out that this is a suicide mission. Nothing ever comes of this, and it might be evidence of his ‘cowardice’ but I’m not sure… the movie is not nearly as interested in his character as it ought to be. At the end he seems to have decided that war is cool after all… or maybe the guy he was arguing about has agreed that we need to set aside war with other humans in order to focus on war with aliens. It’s very unclear.

If there’s a regular passenger service between Alaska and Siberia, doesn’t that suggest that in this future we’ve already set aside war with other humans? I’m not sure this movie thought very hard about its worldbuilding.

In fact, watching the ending I don’t even know if the guy Neilson talks to at the end was the same man he was arguing with earlier, because, as I mentioned, the actors all look similar. Until that final conversation I thought the other dude had died aboard the saucer and honestly I’m still not convinced he didn’t. What mainly makes me doubt the idea is that it would mean there’s no closure to the feud at all, which would be the height of poor writing. I’ve seen movies where I would buy that they were just that careless, but other aspects of The Atomic Submarine are competent enough that I want to give them the benefit of the doubt.

So what does this movie want us to think about war and the military? It certainly suggests that they’re necessary, since after all we have aliens to defend ourselves from. One of the scientists on board is British and another has what I think is supposed to be a Russian accent, so perhaps its extolling the virtues of international cooperation. This would fit with Neilson’s statements about how we need to leave war behind, but if that’s the movie’s point it hobbles itself by never talking about it in that light.

This is all made that much more annoying because, as I said, the effects are decent, the cinematography is pretty good, and while none of the actors are stellar they all do their best. There’s no real reason why The Atomic Submarine had to be so dull and messy, unless they were just saddled with a half-assed script. Even then, they made a pretty good effort to get some gold out of the dross. You might find The Atomic Submarine worth watching even if only to think about what might have been.

#mst3k #reviews #episodes that never were #the atomic submarine #50s

18 notes · View notes

good-omens-classic · 4 years

Text

Hi Good Omens fans, ever since making this blog, and trawling through the archives for old art, I have been thinking again about trends from before the TV-show, and the way people draw Aziraphale and Crowley. I wanted to make this post addressing it but this is not “discourse” or to start a fight, in fact I would be perfectly content if all I did was make people think critically about what I am about to say and not even interact with this post at all, but I feel like I need to say it.

Talking about any racist undertones to the way people draw our two favorite boys usually makes people dig their heels in pretty fast. This is not a callout post for any artist in particular, this is not me trying to be overly critical of artists especially since they have more talent and skill than I do, and I’m going to address some common counterpoints that I frankly find unsatisfactory. Let’s just take a moment to set aside our defensiveness and think objectively about these trends. It took me a while to unlearn my dismissive attitude about these concerns so maybe I can help others get over that hurdle a little faster. Now let’s begin.

I’ve been kicking around the Good Omens fandom since maybe 2015 and for art based in book canon, whether it was made before the TV show came out, or because the artist is consciously drawing different, original designs, I’m going to estimate that a decent 75% of all fanart looks like this

Aziraphale is white and blonde and blue-eyed while Crowley is the typical “racially ambiguous” brown skin tone it’s become so popular to draw podcast characters as nowadays.

And the question is why? With the obvious answer being “it’s racist,” but let’s delve a little deeper than that.

A common thing I hear is that people get appearance headcanons fixed in their mind because the coverart of the book pictures the characters a certain way. My first point is this only shifts the question to why the illustrators drew them that way, when there aren’t many physical descriptions in the book. My second point is that while there definitely are cover arts that picture Aziraphale as cherubic, blonde, and white and Crowley as swarthy, dark-skinned, and racially ambiguous...

(side note: why is Crowley’s hand so tiny? what the hell is going on in this cover?)

It’s much more common for the covers to simplified, stylized, and without any particular unambiguous skin tones

I don’t know about the UK but the most popular version in the United States is the dual black and white matching covers

And while you could make an argument that the shading on Crowley’s face could suggest a darker skintone, it seems obvious to me that lacking any color these are not supposed to suggest any particular race for either of these two, and the contrasting colors are a stylistic choice to emphasize how they are on opposite sides. If anything, to me it suggests they are both white.

In short I simply do not buy the argument that people are drawing Aziraphale and Crowley this way because that’s how they were represented on the cover art of the book. If you draw them the way they are on the cover then whatever, I don’t care, but I don’t believe that’s what’s driving this trend.

The second thing people will say is that Good Omens is a work of satire, and it’s based in Christian mythology which has this trend of depicting angels as white, and it is embodying the trope of a “white, cherubic angel” paired with a dark-skinned demon for the explicit purpose of subverting the trope of “white angel is good, dark demon is bad” since Aziraphale is not an unambiguous hero and Crowley is not a villain. “It’s not actually like that because Crowley isn’t a bad demon, and Aziraphale isn’t actually a perfect angel” is the argument. This has a certain logic to it and allows some nuance to the topic, but to this I say:

Uncritically reproducing a trope, even in the context of a satire novel, is not enough to subvert it. Good Omens is not criticising the racist history of the church, and while the book does have some pointed jabs at white British culture (such as Madam Tracy conning gullible Brits with an unbelievably ignorant stereotype of a Native American) it is not being critical of the conception of angels as white and blonde or the literal demonization of non-white people. That’s just not what the book is about. So making the angel white and the demon dark-skinned, playing directly into harmful tropes and stereotypes, is not somehow subversive or counter-cultural when doing so doesn’t say anything about anything.

Please consider fully the ramifications of the conception of white and blonde people as innocent and cherubic and dark-skinned people as infernal and mischievous, especially in modern contexts...

Black people are more likely to be viewed as violent, angry, and dangerous. Priming with a dark-skinned face makes people more likely to mistake a tool for a gun. Black people are viewed as experiencing pain less intensely by medical professionals. Black men are viewed as physically larger and more imposing than they actually are. The subconscious racial bias favoring light skin is so ingrained it’s measurable by objective scientific studies, on top of the anecdotal evidence of things like news stories choosing flattering, “cherubic” pictures of white and blond criminals while using unflattering mugshots for non-white offenders.

This is why I say that if you’re going to invoke the “whites are angelic” trope, you better have a damn good subversion of it to justify it, because this idea causes real harm to real people in the real world. And Aziraphale being a bit of a bastard despite being an angel, I just don’t see that as sufficient. I am especially cautious of when it’s my fellow white fans that make this argument, not because I believe they do this out of any sort of malice or hatred of people with dark skin, but because I know first-hand it stems from a dismissiveness rooted in not wanting to think about it for too long because it makes us uncomfortable. Non-white people do not have the luxury of not thinking about it, because it’s part of their life.

Now the strongest textual evidence people use, in the absence of much real descriptor, is this:

"Many people, meeting Aziraphale for the first time, formed three impressions: that he was English, that he was intelligent, and that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Two of these were wrong; Heaven is not in England, whatever certain poets may have thought, and angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort"

This piece of art has circulated in the fandom for so long I don’t know the original artist and it’s been used for everything from fancovers to perfume. This is where I found it and it’s one of the first things that come up when you google this quote about Aziraphale.

Doesn’t it just feel like this is the man that’s describing, some blonde effeminate gay man? Well guess what, there’s the “blonde as innocence” trope rearing its ugly head again, because the stereotype of gay men and effeminacy as being a white and blonde thing is--ding ding ding you guessed it--racism. And why would intelligent suggest a white and blonde person, except if the stereotype of a dark-skinned person is less intelligent?

Now the point of “people assume Aziraphale is British” is another sticking point people will often use, claiming that the stereotype of a British person is white and blonde. I guess this has some merit, since the British empire was one of the biggest forces behind white colonial expansion, and it seems disingenuous to assign “British” as “nonwhite” as soon as we’re being satirical, in the same way I found it distasteful that the TV show made God female when so many of the criticisms of the church are about its misogyny and lose their teeth as soon as God is no longer male.

However consider that 1.4 million Indian people live in the UK. I heard a man say aloud once that the concept of a black person having a British accent was a little funny, as though Doctor Who doesn’t exist and have black people on it. And I’m not overly familiar with the social landscape of the UK, but I understand they’re experiencing a xenophobia boom and non-white Brits aren’t considered “really British.” The stereotype of non-white people not being British only exists because of reinforcement in media. If you really want to be subversive, drawing Aziraphale as Indian goes way further than drawing him as white IMO.

Now let’s talk about Crowley. He is almost always drawn with a darker skin tone than Aziraphale, even when they are both white, and while I’ve outlined above how this is problematic on terms of linking light skin with innocence, I think it does have an extra layer. I think it also has to do with the exotification and fetishization of brown skin and non-white people.

This artist’s tumblr is gone now but their art is still on dA and while it’s definitely beautiful and well-done, I think this is a very good example of what I’m talking about.

Crowley and Aziraphale necessarily contrast each other, so describing Aziraphale as “British” might suggest that Crowley is “foreign-looking.” I also know *ahem* that the fandom generally thirsts over Crowley to hell and back, so making him a swarthy, tall dark and handsome is not necessarily surprising.

An interesting thing happened when the TV show came out, and everyone started drawing Michael Sheen!Aziraphale and David Tennant!Crowley more and more often: It’s not ubiquitous, but it does happen that sometimes artists will draw David Tennant’s skin darker than it actually is. The subconscious urge to see Crowley with dark skin is for some reason that strong for many people. And I really encourage people doing this to think about why. Not naming any names but I’ve working with fanartists before for collabs who I had to ask to lighten “bad guy” demon’s skin tones because it looked like they were making the skin darker on purpose to make them look scarier. This person is a perfectly pleasant person who tries not to be racist! And we both still fell into it accidentally, and it took me a while to notice and point it out, because the ingrained stigmatization of darker skin is pervasive yet often goes unnoticed.

What is the solution? I don’t know, and as a white person I’m not really qualified to make that call. Do we draw them both with the exact same skin tone? Is it better to make them both white? Should we make both of them non-white? Should we only make Aziraphale non-white? I am consciously aware of the fact that the Good Omens fandom is mostly white people, so most of the art we make is being both made by and consumed by white people, so I don’t feel comfortable saying “draw these characters of color specifically” because that can also veer into fetishization territory very quickly. This is not specific to good omens but I think we should pay attention to what fans of color say in all fandom spaces and weigh our choices even if they seem insignificant. And it’s important to realize that fans of color will not be a monolith in their opinion either, and it’s our responsibility to recognize that everyone can be affected by racism and social issues differently, the same way all women are affected by misogyny differently so just because one woman says such as such is misogynistic and another says it’s not. I’m sure there are non-white fans who think it’s perfectly fine to draw Aziraphale as white and Crowley as ambiguously non-white. I’m not saying they’re wrong. And I’m not saying you can’t reblog this kind of art, or that people who make or made it should feel bad about themselves. But so often this sort of thing goes unaddressed just because people don’t like thinking about it, and well, avoiding hard questions never really goes well I think.

#?#voice of mod #?????

193 notes · View notes

artymcart · 3 years

Text

Just so you know

I know tumblr goes crazy atm and to be true, it's a bit too much for me.

I feel like people just scream opinions at each other. I haven't seen one day since the SPN finale in which I haven't seen some theories or meta or, ah you know, that what goes around for a week now.

And I love the jokes and and all but some people annoy me, really, and I don't mean the Wincesters or anyone one in particular. But I'm not a big fan of capslock written conspiracy theories and screams for murder and canceling (oh gosh that cancel culture I swear).

See, I enjoy Supernatural for years now, because of the creative fandom. I've read more fan fiction about multiple ships then I've read books in my life. I've drawn these people more then anything else. I enjoy every new quirk we get to know about our favorites. And I have a lot of these. Favorites.

I can't hide the fact that I have a thing for Destiel, since it was one of my first real life series pairings I've discovered. But that does not mean that I only watch the series for them.

I love Supernatural.

The whole series. I love the meta, I love the story telling, I love the pictures and lore. I love Dean, I love Sam, Cas, Jack, Bobby, Jody, Charlie, Kevin, Hannah , Samandriel, Gabriel yeah even damn Michael grew on me. (Okay, I hate Lucifer like from the moment he gets out of the cage the second time but it's more like a "stop beating that dead horse" situation)

I love this show. And the opportunity for creation. And that's something I haven't seen here since the finale. All the creater blogs I follow reblog 40 pages long theories about what we lost.

If that's what makes you deal with it, I'm fine, but we small creators drown in it. Literally. No one sees art atm or drabbles or anything else but noise .

All I see is hate and spite. And people confronted me about it and that's when I realized that I fuel that fire too (on my main blog), when my intention was totally different. But they were right.

Don't get me wrong, I am as excited as you are that I can finally put down that clown costume but for me, nothing is fixed besides the fact that it needs a different language to tell us what maybe should've been said. But we will never know 🤷

Long story short:

This blog is positive for nearly every character on the show Supernatural. This blog will never hate on Sam Winchester, believe me, over my dead body (because people said that I hate him because I only draw Destiel) .

This blog here is shipper positive as long every party is old enough/clear enough in mind and body to consent. (No I don't ship Wincest, I don't like it, I don't touch it, I don't read it. But I'll never send anonymous hate to people because they do).

I want this place here to be positive as I can make it.

I want to create for you, for me.

I want to create for a fandom that grew a family for me. But at the moment it feels more like that awkward family Thanksgiving get together where everyone is too drunk to argument so they just scream at each other.

So, this is my one and only statement. No one cares anyway lol. Feel free to unfollow, feel free to stay. I'll create art for the fandom anyway. I just love it too much to let it go.

Arty / Janine

#supernatural #spn family #arty answers

14 notes · View notes

gvnchvcks · 4 years

Note

wait wait to add tot he tattoo thing- jack decides to get one too in order to match, but doesnt tell ryan. a few months later ryan see's jacks tattoo, and makes a joke, but straight faced, jack reposnds "ive had this forever?" and one of the others in the room of course joins in like "yeah we all have matching ones? didnt you get one when you joined?" and everyone starts ragging on him and now ryan is having a crisis bc 'was i supposed too?" the next day he comes into the penthouse with a tattoo

This keeps getting better and better omg- y e s

Ryan just notices one day when Jack reaches for a controller something on her forearm?? Like, a small smudge. At first he just thinks it dirt or a bruise or something, then he gets a better look. There on her right forearm, a bit above her wrist, the word FAKE printed neatly on her arm. Small, but neat. When did that get there??

"Wow, Jack, still going with that old bit, huh?"

"Hm? What do you mean, I've had this forever? Since before even you joined."

Cue a very confused Ryan. What??? Has she seriously had it this entire time???? Wh- Then Michael, quick to pick up on the situation, pipes up.

"We all have matching ones, did you not get the memo or somethin', Ryebread?"

At this point the whole crew is practically yelling at him, and Ryan. Poor Ryan. This man is so confused. He just stops in his tracks and starts second guessing everything?? Even Jeremy, his dear Battle Buddy, is agreeing with them? So it must be true????????? Once things have calmed down again, a still very confused Vagabond decides to head to bed a bit early. He says his goodnight to the crew and after a bit of laying in bed questioning his own sanity, he falls asleep.

He wakes up early that morning, he's usually up before them. He throws on a pot of coffee for his crewmates to find when they wake up, and he heads out. It's hours later when he returns, nearly 8 pm. Gavin, sitting near a window, notices his bike pull up outside.

"Hey, Ryan's home!! Now we can question his weird ass where he's been all bloody day!"

The crew, along with a few of the B Team who decided to drop by for a visit, all gather in the livingroom to get some answers. (But yknow, be casual)

Ryan walks in, wearing his usual Vagabond attire, mask and all, even has his jacket collar popped up. He isn't bloody, doesn't even look like he committed any crimes really, which just confuses them even more. He takes of his jacket and hangs on the coat hanger before he notices everyone staring at him. He's just kinda like ??? You guys good??? And then they just play it off and return to playing Mario Party. Ryan heads in the kitchen and returns shortly after with a can of Diet Coke, just silently watching his friends play the game from his position leaning against a wall. The game ends and people calm down. That's when it happens. Michael finally looks at Ryan for the first time since he got back.

"What. The. FUCK?!"

All conversation immediately stops and everyone just stares at Michael who is staring wide eyed, and slightly smirking, at Ryan. He points, and the others follow his finger. Directly to Ry's neck.

There, down the side of Ryan's neck in neat block letters:

Ryan points to it, trying to be nonchalant.

"What, this? I've had this. Don't we all?"

Jack is the first to burst into laughter, nearly crying. She explains to him how she successfully duped him, and then everyone, even him, are thrown into a laughing fit.

Then, Geoff comes in from downstairs. He'd been working all day so couldn't join in on the fun sooner. He notices as well, and everyone patiently waits for the Most Disappointed Sigh of the century but,, instead. He's..smiling..? He just smiles. Sweetly at first, then more in awe. He walks over and gives Ry a nice pat on the shoulder.

"Damn, dude. Didn't think you'd ever be one for gettin' inked, but ya look great! It's clean too, where'd ya get it done?"

Now it's everyone's turn to be confused. Why is Geoff so hyped about it? What the fu-

"We're a real family now, guys." He looks at the group in front of him, a supportive hand still on Ryan's shoulder.

"I can't believe you guys. Even if this was just some huge joke, willing to go far enough to get something so permanent for my little gang of misfits? You guys are the greatest friends- No. Family. That a crimeboss could have."

It was a short and random speech, but the gang suddenly realizes the meaning. This ties them together in a more meaningful way, even if it was a gag that was drawn out way too long. Geoff then looks at Matt, Lindsay, and Trevor. The few B Team members who stopped by to visit. (Fiona and Alfredo were busy with jobs)

"So? When are you losers gettin' yours?"

#tysm for this anon omg 💚💚#achievement hunter #fake ah crew #fahc ryan #fahc geoff #fahc jack #fahc gavin #fahc michael #fahc alfredo #fahc lindsay #fahc matt

99 notes · View notes

angelicmichael · 4 years

Text

Imminient Annihilation Sounds so Dope, Chapter Seven

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader confesses to Mallory that she met Michael and they go have a night out, execpt they run into a certain someone ;)

Words: 6.1k+

Warnings; Mentions of alcohol poisoning, and someone gets VERY drunk (not saying who cause I don’t wanna spoil it). For the sake of the fic pretend that all characters including the reader are of legal drinking age: please and thank you lol

A/N: Sorry for not updating this in so long 😶 I will be back to add a ‘read more’ line and add it to my master list in a couple days. Idk why all my chapters and fics are so fucking long I’m sorry 😂 this chapter was originally even longer but I cut it down believe it or not. I feel like the chapter is the ‘peak’ moment for the tension between Michael and Reader for sure. The tension and the dynamic between them is just so fun to write honestly haha. Reblog or like this if you enjoyed ♥️ also if u wanna be on the tag list let me know!! ALSOO this is readers POV and takes place about a day after the last chapter!

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

You felt tense. That was the best way to describe how you felt but it also wasn’t. You felt a constant swirling storm inside of you since you met Michael. That storm made you feel different flavors and elements of being anxious and angry but being tense was the most prominent emotion of them all.

You made the difficult choice to lay low about your new powers, but that only seemed the make the crazed whirlwind of emotions you felt even worse.

You knew you were making the best decision by not telling the coven, it would only breed more chaos and make everything more complicated if you did decide to come clean about your powers. You hated to admit it but lying to Cordelia was too fucking easy.

Telling little white lies to Cordelia was easy anyway, however, pretending that you only had two powers everyday was not so easy. You could feel your new powers growing and itching to be used. It was almost like you had all of this pent up energy inside of you but no outlet. It seemed to burn at your fingertips and the fact that you couldn’t be your true authentic self in front of your sisters was slowly killing you and sending you into some kind of depression. You weren’t sure what was worse, going insane or letting the depression slowly eat away at you.

However hiding your new powers from your best friend was what was really proving to be the most difficult of all. You were normally a open book with Mallory, she knew everything that there was to know about you.. execpt for this. She didn’t know that you were now supposed to be the next supreme, and she certainly didn’t know that your powers were so strong that you were even stronger than the actual antichrist himself. And it was killing you not to tell her, and it was showing.

You had been drawing back and becoming reserved around Mallory over the past couple days, and it would be naive to say she didn’t notice. You knew she noticed but you two were just avoiding the topic.

Today was starting out as another typical morning for you. You and Mallory both got up, got dressed and were prepping to go downstairs to have another boring, dull day. Even though you had been distancing yourself from her you still waited to walk downstairs with her, and make small talk atleast. You atleast owed her that much.

You watched Mallory come out of the bathroom that was connected to your room, and shut the door. You stood up and approached your bedroom door; getting ready to leave but you felt a small hand touch your shoulder instead and stop you.

“(y/n), wait”.

You turned around and met Mallory’s sad honey colored eyes. It wasn’t just her eyes that seemed sad though, you could even hear it her voice. Something was wrong.

“Can we talk”?

She asked and you immeaditly nodded as you two both sat down on her bed. You couldn’t help but remember how last time you two sat on her bed to talk it was to discuss how you found out Micheal was your soulmate.. it seemed like only bad news was revealed on this bed.

“Yeah of course”.

You replied and took a deep breath and continued to keep talking instead of letting her talk.

“But it’s not fair to you Mallory that you have to be the one to initiate this conversation.. I.. Ive been hiding something”.

You spoke softly as you bit your lip. You could feel a pit in your stomach start to form as you did not want to continue to have this conversation with her but you knew you had too. You really shouldn’t have been keeping this information from her for so long in the first place. You noticed Mallory started to sit up a bit straighter as her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion. Her mouth opened like she was about to start talking when you cut her off once again.

“I hurt Madison”.

Your words came out shakily, and you made sure to utter them out as a whisper so that none of your sisters could hear. The only thing you really became conscious of was your breathing and your heart beating in your chest. Everything else in the world seemed completely silent and irrelevant. It was as if the world had paused for a couple of seconds until Mallory chose to speak again.

“Madison? How? Why-“

She looked awfully confused as she spoke, and the words seemed to come out quickly. As if she thought the faster she spoke the faster you would give her an answer.

“I didn’t mean too but Micheal wasn’t there at all at first, it was Madison and it was my only option - she would’ve killed me”.

“So it was self defense”?

Mallory asked, the confused expression she wore ealier melted away and now was replaced with a much more stoic and cold look. However, it still held a touch of softness. She had to know deep down that you wouldn’t do something like this unless it was absolutely necessary.. right?

“Yes! I would never hurt her otherwise and you should know that! I wouldn’t hurt a fly”.

You replied and this was when Mallory gave you a small smile and rubbed your shoulder gently with her hand.

“I know (y/n) it’s just I don’t want you to get in trouble. Maybe we should tell Cordelia”?

Mallory offered as she drew her hand back from you.

“There’s no way I could tell Cordelia, Mallory. You know that this whole situation would just stress her out even more than she already is. I feel like she already thinks that I can’t pull the whole ‘seduce Michael’ scheme off. This would just add fuel to the fire, you know”?

You asked her, biting your lip in frustration.

“No, your right. I’m sorry, I just- this whole thing is so complicated. It would just be nice to have a easy solution to all of this”.

Mallory replied with a giggle and a small smile. She looked at you and looked at the floor as if she was deep in thought, and when you got a look in her eyes - you saw a glimmer of adventure and playfulness in her eyes. It was the same glimmer that was in her eyes when you first met her - it was what drew you to her initially. Mallory turned her head back up to look at you and this time she was grinning.

“So your telling me that your powers are stronger than Madison’s? Because you look unscathed”.

She continued and you took a deep breath.

“I- yeah. That’s another thing.. I think seeing Micheal for the first time set something off inside of me because I have these crazy powers, Mallory. I- I stopped Michael from hurting me. I dont know exactly how but I did. Each day my powers seem to be growing and I don’t want to burden anyone else with this information so.. I just feel helpless”.

You ranted. You felt incredibly guilty as you spoke, you knew you were implying that you would be the next supreme but that’s not what you wanted. You didn’t want to be supreme. You didn’t want to take that away from Mallory, your best friend.

“I know your meant to be the next supreme and I would never want to take that away from you-“

You continued to talk but Mallory hugged you and before you realized it you stopped talking. You sat there on the bed speechless. You looked at the patch of sunlight that was in the room since the light was turned off and the curtains were drawn. You supposed noticing this ray of sun was a sign - a sign that things would finally get better and that Mallory would drag you out of this weird funk you’ve found yourself in the past couple days. Then Mallory started to speak,

“Don’t ever think that your taking something away from me. I never really wanted to be supreme anyway I mean, that’s a lot of responsibility and.. I don’t know (y/n) but maybe your not supreme. If your powers are really growing at the rate you said they were then wouldn’t Cordelia’s powers be dying out? And Cordelia’s powers haven’t been affected that I’ve noticed”.

By the time she was finished talking, Mallory stopped hugging you and was looking at you dead in the eyes. The patch of sunlight seemed to hit her and highlighted her dark brown eyes, making them look golden and honey brown. They were beautiful. She was beautiful.

But now was not the time to ogle at Mallory’s beauty; you knew she had a point. Cordelia was constantly teaching and preforming her powers, it would be obvious if her powers started to deplete.

“Yeah but what would that even mean? Would that mean I’m like some other entity like Micheal is? I mean, damn maybe I’m not even a witch at all”.

You were thinking outloud at this point. You crossed your arms gently as you started to get deep in thought. What the fuck would that even mean if you weren’t a witch? How many entities were there that even had ‘magical’ powers? And how would that even really make sense anyway? Your powers really only advanced so rapidly once you met Michael, before that you were just like any other witch. If you really were a entity or something, wouldn’t your powers manifested immeaditly? Plus, you think you would’ve noticed if you really were a demon or some shit.

“Well don’t jump to conclusions I mean, if you really want to know if your a witch you should talk to Cordelia. She would know. Taking the seven wonders wouldn’t be a horrible idea either”.

“Yeah.. maybe after this whole ordeal with Micheal is over though”.

It was nearly as if a lightbulb was turned on in Mallory, she suddenly lit up when you mentioned Micheals name and her mouth even dropped open slightly.

“I totally forgot about Micheal! What happened with Micheal when you met him? How did he not hurt you”?

She questioned and you licked your lips before you continued.

“Take a guess”.

You said with a smirk. It was as if she read your mind because she seemed to know immeaditly what you were talking about. She knew that you were implying that your powers were stronger than Michaels.

“No way! We need to tell Cordelia”!

Mallory’s face continued to light up but you simply shook your head.

“I cant, Mallory. I really can’t”.

You replied softly, trying to stifle a laugh. It made you happy to know that Mallory didn’t reject you or the idea that you might possibly be supreme. However the idea that you perhaps weren’t even fucking human at all overwhelmed you - to say the very least. For now, you were trying to ignore that little detail though.

“Well if your stronger than Micheal than there’s no reason to stay cooped up then, is there”?

“But the coven and Cordelia still need to think that nothing changed. They don’t even know that I met Micheal-“

“We’re going out tonight whether you like it or not. It’s a Friday, and no one will notice if we sneak out.. we deserve a nice night out stress free”.

She replied and you couldn’t help but agree to it. She had a point, it felt purely stupid now to hide away in Robichaux’s when you really had nothing to fear.. even if Micheal did show up, you were stronger than him.. when it came to him hurting you though. Who knows if you would be able to stop his powers if he tried to hurt someone else, like god forbid, Mallory. The odds of Micheal actually showing up tonight in Lousiana were slim to none though. Most likely the fucker was cooped up in his crazy expensive penthouse back in L.A.

But after all you deserved to have a nice night out. You deserved this.

It wasn’t hard to find a house party to go to on a Friday night in Lousiana.. it was nearly laughable at how easy it truly was. It was getting close to midnight and you and Mallory had just arrived, parking the black SUV about a block away from the party you two planned on ‘crashing’.

The house was huge, and college students decorated the yard and flooded the house - making the once spacious area seem cramped and tiny as you walked through the yard and then into the house with Mallory. Mallory led the way as she held your hand as to not get lost as you two had to push through people to find drinks.

It was difficult to be completely certain but with the limited decor you noticed on the walls, the house seemed to be a frat house which explained why all the boys looked like jocks and why all the females seemed to be dressed in minimal clothing. You and Mallory both sported black dresses, hers was long and flowy and fell to about her knees while your dress hugged your body a lot more and ended mid thigh.

You two looked like you belonged here, like you were a part of the party scene but you really weren’t. This was the first time you and Mallory had ever been to be a place like this... from what you heard - this seemed to be more of Madison’s scene. You know she frequently visited frat houses - probably even this one atleast once.

Thinking about Madison put a bad taste in your mouth - it made you incredibly sad. The image of how Madison’s body looked when you threw her against the wall played in your mind but you were quickly brought out of your thoughts when Mallory handed you a cup. You took a sniff of it and sure enough, whatever the substance was DEFINITELY had alcohol in it. You tried not to think to hard about what the substance exactly was before you completly chugged it. Mallory merely gawked at you.

“Your gonna get sick if you keep drinking that fast”!

Mallory yelled at you, you could barely hear her through the blasting music and all of the people talking. You simply giggled at her before replying.

“I’ll be right back”!

You yelled as you turned around, on a mission to find where the rest of the booze was. Of course you didn’t see where Mallory got your booze from in the first place, and it was fucking impossible to see where the kitchen was when you were literally shoulder to shoulder with strangers from how packed this house was.

You swear you could already feel the effects of the alcohol because you knew normally you would be gagging at the smell the house reeked of. It could be best described as pure sweat and maybe unwashed underwear?

You were pleasantly surprised to find that when you next opened your mouth, it was words that came out and not vomit. You didn’t even look to see who was next to you when you spoke; there were so many people in this god damn house - someone was bound to hear you. You had wandered off from Mallory as well, you couldn’t see her anymore but you really weren’t worried at the moment.

“Excuse me, do you know where there keeping the alcohol”?

You tapped the person who was next to you on the shoulder lightly.

The person had their back turned to you and as soon as you actually had time to look at them - you felt as if you had been stabbed square in the chest with fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The person you tapped wore a full black outfit with hands crossed behind their back, and their fingers were adorned with several expensive looking rings. Their hair was a curly, beautiful, golden blonde that seemed to rest around their head like a nest or halo of some sort. You just knew that all of these features seemed to hauntingly familiar to you. Too familiar.

Your mouth fell open as you tried to back up but you ended up stepping on someone’s foot, you were trapped. This time, if it really was him, you didn’t have the luxury of running away like you did on the previous meeting. You didn’t know if it was worse to be alone with him or to be stuck with him in a room full of people. Hopefully you were just over reacting and this was just a doppelgänger at best.

The person (who you were hoping wasn’t Micheal) finally sauntered around to face you, you couldn’t help but continue to gawk at them with your mouth wide open. You knew if you continued to keep your mouth open you would surely attract flies so you managed to close your mouth.

You realized this person was wearing a light black cape with two golden claspes on each side with a golden chain running between the two claspes. You couldn’t help but briefly think how expensive those claspes probably were - fuck. All it took was for you to look up and meet his icy blue eyes. Fuck, those eyes. Once you pulled yourself out of the trance his eyes seemed to put you in, you then realized who you were staring at... oh no.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck fuck!!

“I don’t, I was actually just looking for the drinks myself. Care to search with me”?

You stood there as he spoke, completly fucking baffled. You forgot you had even talked to him at all ealier, but he sure didn’t seem surprised to see you. Weird. It was almost as if he knew you were going to be here, but how was that even possible? He wore a smug smirk on his face while your thoughts started to race at one hundred miles per hour.

You tried to make it look less apparent that you were so shocked; it looked like he was getting off on the fact that you looked caught off guard. You didn’t know too much about him but you knew he had a thing for control and manipulation; and you weren’t about to let Langdon control you anymore than he already had.

“Wait.. What? What the fuck are you even doing here”?

You asked and threw your hands up in the air in frustration. The sheer hatred and anger you held in your voice got the attention of a few people who stood close to you but they quickly lost interest.. thank god.

You went to this party with the intention of finally letting go of fear and being able to be free and yet you ran into the person that you were dreading would be there. You felt incredibly angry that he took this night away from you, a night where you could just let go and have fun but now that was fucking gone.

It was odd how he wasn’t scared to confront you when he knew you were stronger than he is. It’s as if he got off on having control over you and your life, and even how you felt.. And you were so fucking over it. It was so fucking sick.

“I could easily ask you the same, couldn’t I”?

Micheal responded. Instead of yelling to talk to you, you noticed that he kept moving in closer and closer to talk to you and you were still trapped. You could feel your palms starting to itch with inticipation, waiting for the right moment to use your powers to attack - if it came to that but that was the absolute last resort. You were surrounded by way too many people to just use your powers freely like in the abandoned house you two had met in previously.

“You don’t own me Micheal. I’m sick of feeling like you control me, I feel like I’m not even in charge of my own emotions or actions anymore. And now when I finally try to have a night to forget about you, you fucking show up. So let me ask you again, what are you fucking doing here”?

You hissed. You kept your voice a little low, still yelling but not quite at the volume that would catch other people’s attention. You made sure to look right into Micheals eyes as you spoke, you wanted to show him you weren’t scared. There was no reason to cower from him anymore.

Micheal smirked as he glanced over his shoulder, as if he was making sure no one was picking up on your conversation. There was so many fucking people here, it was really hard to tell if any of them were purposely listening in or not. And even if they were listening, it probably just sounded like you two were exes that happened to run into eachother at a party.

“I’m here for the same reason you are. To forget about all of the bullshit that’s happened within this past week. So, C’Mon lets go take shots”.

Micheal said and actually grabbed your hand. Your mouth dropped once again as soon as he touched you, your not sure if it was from pure surprise or disgust.. maybe both? Your first instinct was to take back your hand and you tried to - you really did but the fucker seemed to have cat like reflexes and he caught your hand before you could yank it away too far.

You thought the first time you would touch your soulmate you feel sparks or fireworks and maybe even butterflies but when Micheal touched you, and was even leading you through the crowd now - you felt nothing of the sort.

You felt regret, nausea, and if anything it felt like you had almost been electrocuted when he touched you. And not in a good way.

He was moving through the crowd pretty damn fast, and he wasn’t really holding your hand - more so grabbing onto your wrist as if you were a kid who was about to be punished. You tried to slide your wrist out of his grip but he wouldn’t fucking let go, and it was really starting to hurt. You stumbled behind him and he continued lugging you through the crowd and to the kitchen; where there was definetly still a crowd but it was more dispersed and there was actually room to breathe. It was a little bit quieter here too, the music a little bit distant and the crowd was more sparse. It wasn’t nessacary to scream here to talk but you chose to anyway for your next sentence because you wanted to make sure he fucking heard you.

“Micheal let go”!

You yelled, you still couldn’t work your wrist free so you took your other hand to pry Micheals hand free off of you.

You noticed people were staring at you two - you didn’t look to see but you could feel their eyes on you. Micheal must’ve sensed that you two were getting attention because he finally let go of your fucking wrist. Ow. He might’ve let go because you were also digging your nails into his skin as well.

You rubbed your wrist which was now red as you frowned deeply. Even though your wrist was really just irritated and not actually injured; you still chose to put your other hand over your wrist and heal it. It’s not like anyone would notice, you doubted even Michael noticed what you were doing. However, What you really wanted to do was to continue to yell at Micheal but you knew you couldn’t do that now, espically since you just got people to stop staring. You cleared your throat.

“What the hell is this all about Micheal? Are you out of your mind”?

You hissed, glaring daggers at him as you spoke. You hurt Madison, why was he not furious with you? It made no fucking sense. And he wanted to take shots with you?? What??

You don’t know what exactly you were so mad about honestly, because this point it was fucking everything. You don’t know if it was the fact that he was trying to pretend everything was okay when it obviously fucking wasn’t, or the fact he was expecting you to just forget all of the bad blood that was between you too? Who knew at this point.

You waited for him to talk but instead he moved toward the counter to pour shots, you assumed since he was so hellbent on you two drinking together. You wouldn’t be surprised if he poisoned your drink honestly but something about Michael today seemed desperate, and sad. He really seemed like he was trying to get on your good side; maybe you were just reading him wrong but you felt like you could trust him tonight.

Michael didn’t even bother to turn around to reply to you; he kept his focus on the alcohol and not even making eye contact as he spoke.

“I told you, I’m done fighting”.

He said. He nearly slammed the alcohol bottle down onto the counter and he turned to look at you as he kept speaking. He first handed you your shot which happened to be clear in a tiny red plastic cup. You stared at the fluid in the cup suspiciously, and then you looked back up at Michael. You figured you would watch him drink his shot first before you had yours.

“The more I try to distance myself from you, the more I just end up getting fucking nowhere so I’m done trying to run away from you. Whenever I try to push you away someone ends up getting hurt, so It’s not worth it.. bottoms up”.

Micheal took his shot and downed it within seconds and slammed it back down on the counter. You noticed he was already reaching for the bottle to fill up his glass again. You continued to keep holding onto your cup absentmindedly as you watched Michael pour himself another glass. You couldn’t help but to notice how whenever he spoke tonight there seemed to be a desperation in his voice, it was as if he had given up. It almost made you feel bad for him.. almost.

You had to remind yourself who he was, and what his ultimate goals were. The only reason he was sad and angsty tonight was because he couldn’t manipulate you or use his powers against you, it wasn’t because he cared or felt any kind of empathy for you. It stung and hurt for you to acknowledge that but you knew you couldn’t let his charm cloud your judgement.

You already had a drink ealier but you figured this tiny shot wouldn’t hurt, being tipsy around Micheal couldn’t be TOO risky.. After all Michael seemed to be pretty cozy with drinking around you. You downed your shot and pull your small plastic cup back onto the table; assuming Micheal would fill it for you since he was still holding the bottle of alcohol.

You were about to speak but instead you heard someone else speak up and talk to Micheal instead.

“Why are you even taking shots? You might as well just drink the whole bottle at this point”.

It was an all too familiar voice, you whipped your head around and you saw Mallory. You exhaled and grinned, you were never happier to see another human being in your fucking life.

It’s not like you were alone with Micheal, you were surrounded by people but you felt alone. Micheal could do whatever he wanted to you here because you couldn’t use your powers. You felt isolated and alone but now with Mallory here? You were getting the fuck out. Nothing could stop you now.

You were surprised Mallory made such a snide remark to the damn antichrist of all people.. I mean she knew who he was.. right?

Micheal at first smirked, and then he full on laughed - it was like he was trying to hold it in at first. He was defintly feeling the alcohol you could only assume. You’d never seen him laugh before... you couldn’t decipher whether it was a true laugh or a sarcastic one from being challenged.

“Your right. I guess I will”.

Micheal announced, he placed his shot glass on the table and even slid it across. Your not sure if it slid naturally or if he used a bit of his magic - a quick glance around told you that no one seemed to notice or care execpt you.

He started to chug the bottle which happened to be a pretty big fucking bottle of Absolute Vodka. You watched his throat as his Adam’s apple continued to bob as he swallowed.. and swallowed and swallowed. You and Mallory’s mouth both dropped open, you didn’t know what the fuck to do. You both looked at eachother in shock as you watched the amount of liquid in the bottle start to grow smaller and smaller.

He was defintly going to get sick at this rate, and be drunk off his fucking ass. Yes, you hated him and wanted him dead but not like this. Choking on his own vomit and dying drunk and alone would be a fucking awful death; even for the antichrist. And lucky for him you actually gave a shit about people and their feelings.

You knew Cordelia’s ideal end game would be to have Micheal dead as soon as possible but if you could help it Micheal wasn’t going to die tonight. You would rather it be a quick and painless death if he had to die; dying by being drunk would not quick and painless. And on the other hand, Mallory didn’t even know this was Micheal yet. You assumed she probably thought this was just some guy you stumbled across - which wasn’t a totally wrong assumption. You brought your attention back to the man in front of you; who was still fucking drinking, the bottle was nearly empty.

“Hey! Stop”!

You hissed at Micheal. You gripped the end of the bottle and yanked it away from him - he had a damn good grip didn’t he?

The bottle was at least three quarters empty, fuck. You noticed Mallory gave you a weird look when you yelled at Micheal but you only did so cause you didn’t want to randomly name drop him, you figured they could have a (semi) proper introduction.

You still held onto the bottle as you shifted glances between Mallory and Micheal. You pointed at each of them with the bottle you held as you said their names.

“Mallory, this is Micheal. Micheal, this is Mallory”.

Mallory, who was staring at you before, instantly snapped her head toward Michael as her eyes grew wide. It was as if she was trying to convince herself that what you had just said wasn’t true. She looked completly panicked, in fact you could nearly feel the anxiety radiating off of her like how you would feel the heat rising off of a hot stove.

“This is Micheal”?!

Mallory asked in a panicked whisper. You merely nodded quickly. Micheal on the other hand looked purely amused, and swayed in place dangerously. If he wasn’t drunk before, he definitely was now. you had no doubt in your mind that he was reading and taking in all her thoughts right now, if he wasn’t too drunk to use his powers anyway. You weren’t drunk, maybe just a little tipsy at most but you could still feel the strength of your powers swirling inside you. Being intoxicated definitely had no effect on the strength of your powers - that was good to know. Michaels blue eyes flickered from watching Mallory to meeting your gaze.

You knew no one else execpt maybe Mallory was staring at you but you felt under the spotlight under Micheals gaze, almost like how a bug would feel right before being squashed. You started to sweat and shift uncomfterably in place. You felt even more uncomfterable as he spoke.

“Is this your new normal now? Do you always keep a posey of witches around you wherever you go? How about you just introduce me to rest”.

Micheal mused, you nearly screeched when he said the word ‘witches’ outloud. Even though he looked obviously drunk, his words came out smoother than silk - not stumbling on his words once. You found it odd Michael didn’t even bother addressing Mallory, not even respecting her enough to look her in the eyes. You assumed he knew she was a witch from reading her thoughts, or maybe he could just sense it. This seemed to piss you off any more of that was even possible. He could at least pretend to be civil.

“Micheal, What is your problem? Im not scared of you”.

You snarled, you stepped closer to him, just a foot away from his face as you stared him in the eyes. Even though you felt insanely nervous doing this, you knew Micheal couldn’t hurt you. You just needed to show him that you were in control for once. Not him.

You felt Mallory’s soft hand on your bicep, very gently pulling your arm back. You knew she was scared that you or Michael would start fighting.

“(y/n), we need to go”.

You heard her say. Micheal still had a smug smile on his lips and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it clean off.

You backed off though, you took a couple steps back and turned to Mallory; your back now to Michael. As you spoke, you felt Micheal tug on the bottom of the bottle you still held - trying to take it back - but you gently tugged it back. He was already drunk out of his mind, no fucking way he was having more.

“I can’t leave him like this, he’s going to get himself killed”.

You explained to Mallory, frowning. It’s not like you wanted to spend tonight babysitting Micheal but you couldn’t trust him to be by himself.. even if he was acting like a asshole and purposefully trying to piss you off. You could tell Mallory was about to protest by the look on her face but you spoke instead.

“Don’t worry about me I’ll be fine. Go home, I’m gonna stay with him”.

“There’s no way I’m going to let you do that, what if he hurts you”?!

“I’m not worried, I’m stronger than him. Plus he’s drunk, the only one he’s in danger of hurting right now is himself”.

You said with a giggle. Mallory quickly took a couple steps toward you and bear hugged you. You hugged her back and you could barely make out the words,

“Be careful. I’m gonna head back”.

You gave Mallory a somber smile as you watched her melt back into the sea of people as she left the kitchen. You turned your attention back to the drunk bafoon you had the pleasure of babysitting tonight.

You caught him dancing embarrassingly bad and trying to lip sync to whatever hip hop song was playing.. you could only laugh as you walked over to him.

After pick pocketing his phone from his back pocket of his jeans, you quickly got you two a Uber to wherever the hell Michael was staying this time.

You could only hope it was another nice penthouse like how his one in L.A. was.

While holding his phone; you didn’t mean to snoop or go through anything execpt the Uber app (which you downloaded) but.. a message notification popped up.

A quick glance at Michael told you that he wasn’t paying attention, the dumbass was too drunk to even notice you took his phone in the first place.

You looked over back at his phone and first noticed the message was from Madison, and then you noticed what the message even was.. a photo. It looked to be a photo of.. oh my god.

Was that Madison? Was that a fucking nude? Your mouth opened and your shut his screen off, you immeaditly handed his phone back over to him which he reluctantly took with a confused puppy look.

By how Michael was talking ealier you thought that maybe he wanted to make mends but if he still had this kind of relationship with Madison, what did it even mean? What did any of this mean? You saw first hand though how in love he was with her. He wasn’t just going to break up with her, you should’ve known that.

You shook your head, atleast you knew you had a lot to think about tonight.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @mina672 @guiltyfiend @michaellangdonstanaccount @9layerdevilsfoodcake

#lemme know how trash this chapter was lol #i feel like the writing in the beginning and end is good but in the middle its kinda meh?#writing drunk michael is SO fun #next chapter is pure drunk michael content #michael x reader #michael langdon x reader #imminient annihilation sounds so dope #my fic #ahs

52 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years

Text

December Contest Submission #17: Karen's yard

words: ca. 2100 setting: mAU lemon: no cw: alcohol use, buzzed driving, Karen

Anna was staring at her reflection in the round, ball-like sphere ornament colored in Halloween orange. She looked like a fish, she thought. Like one of those orange fish with creepy eyes and their brains sticking out. She was wondering when Elsa was going to come out of the damn room. She was growing impatient, and she was not the impatient kind. Not at all.

The sound of a rubber chicken caught her attention. She turned around, found Elsa standing there, cringing at said chicken that lay under her foot like a limpy, screaming creature. And what the hell was Elsa wearing?

“You look like a fucking Christmas present.” The chicken protested.

“That’s the point,” she said.

“But a cringy one. Like the one your distant aunt gives you and you hate it but have to smile anyway and say thank you and then leave it in your closet for the rest of eternity.” She scanned her again. “Your face looks very cute, though.”

“You just insulted my entire outfit, am I supposed to thank you for calling my face cute?”

“Yes.”

She stepped closer. “You look like an oompa loompa.”

“I was aiming for citizen of Whoville.”

“No. Oompa loompa. The original version.”

“I don’t even know the original version so your insult falls flat.”

Elsa shrugged.

There was a party they were supposed to attend. Elsa knew somebody who knew somebody else, and their cousin, and whatever. It spread like gossip. Or was it wildfire? No. The gossip did the spreading and the wildfire was the analogy. Anyway, Anna was very excited to go to this Christmas thing because it’s been a while since she’s attempted to get drunk off eggnog. And so what if she looked like Willy Wonka’s fucking spawn?

It was cold outside. Hella. My-ass-is-frozen-and-my-teeth-will-fall-off-from-so-much-chattering cold. Anna could not think. She could not even respond when Elsa asked her if she wanted to stop by Starbucks and get a hot chocolate. But she shook her head. I don’t want hot chocolate I want alcohol your honor. So the party it was. Elsa drove like a grandma. Ice was her excuse but Anna was not having it. She drove like a grandma on summer too. And on spring. And on the fall when you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to cozy it up in your bed or dig yourself a nice dead-leaf grave.

“We’ll get there tomorrow and nobody will get to appreciate my oompa loompa costume.”

“You’ve disgraced enough eyes as it is.”

“Only yours.”

“Mine are the only ones that matter.”

“Who taught you to be so vain?”

“You.”

Anna nodded. The wig nodded with her. Both were proud nods. “I’ve taught you well.”

They almost veered off the road at some point; almost drove into a snowman, Santa and the horse-looking reindeer that were set up on the obnoxiously decorated yard of some Karen’s house. It’s the ice, Elsa said again. But nah. She was a slow driver and a shitty driver too. Anna would have offered to get behind the wheel but she was even shittier. So she prayed instead, and played Mariah Carey’s Christmas album until she was sure she hated it with her whole being.

The house was warm at least. Its smell, however, was a concoction of spilt American beer—the cheap kind that tasted like piss when lukewarm—and the cinnamon scent of those generic candles everyone hated but went on buying anyway because they were so cheap.

Anna made a beeline for the kitchen. She forgot who it was they were here for. The cousin of the friend of the coworker or something. Anyway, bless them for keeping the place stocked up with alcohol for those souls who come to this abode feeling thirsty as shit. Elsa trailed after her, and bless her too, just because.

“What are you getting?” Anna asked her.

“Whatever you’re getting.”

“That’s insanely unoriginal.”

“I’m not the alcoholic one here.”

Anna laughed. She placed her hands on her warm, lovely, rosy, pinchable cheeks and said, “Elsa. Do you think the people who came here tonight did it because they like to sit on a stranger’s couch? No. They came here because they like the taste of free alcohol.”

“I’ll take a cranberry vodka.”

“That’s my baby.” She made two cranberry vodkas because Elsa wasn’t the unoriginal one here. It was Anna. Plot twist.

The cranberry vodka tasted hideous though, but free plus alcohol equals you drink it anyway. Then Anna remembered the eggnog. But there was no eggnog. And what Christmas party didn’t have at least some crappy eggnog? So she stuck to cranberry vodka and to Elsa’s side for good measure. They spent a good amount of time looking for the friend of the cousin, etc. so that Anna could meet them and they found him in the most obvious of places: the couch. He was bulky, had a goofy grin and whatnot. His name was Kristoff. Another plot twist.

Anna could have sworn he’d seen him before, and when Elsa told her it was from that one time they ran into him at a gay bar everything made sense. Then she smiled to herself because that had been a hell of a good time. Elsa elbowed her in the ribs, gently, with love. ‘Not here,’ her eyes said. Well, you can’t blame her for fantasizing. Or you can. But also blame it on the alcohol. And on Elsa’s stamina.

“So, Anna.” Who’s talking? “Elsa’s told me a lot about you.” It’s Kristoff.

“All good things, yeah?”

“All great things.”

Anna nodded proudly and so did her wig.

“What’s your costume?” he asked.

“I’m an oompa loompa.”

“I didn’t know that movie was Christmas-themed.”

“Everything with snow in it is Christmas-themed, Kristoff.”

“Oh.”

So she’s enlightened Kristoff with her knowledge and now it was time to move on. What a himbo. She wondered if it was him who kept playing Mariah Carey. That would make sense.

They stopped by the kitchen for a refill and eventually moved to the side, right by the corner where you stand if you kinda know the host but not really but you don’t wanna seem awkward and look like you’re not having a good time. Anna kept looking at the green bow that Elsa had glued to her sweater. It was distracting. But Elsa kept thinking she was staring at her breasts and she wasn’t. Well, she was. But that wasn’t the point of this paragraph.

Mariah Carey gave way to Michael Bublé and then Anna was 110% sure it was gay himbo Kristoff who was controlling the music. But she couldn’t be mad. This was his house and if he wanted to blast overplayed Christmas music until everyone’s ears—even the neighbors'—bled, then that was entirely up to him. It’ll stay in his conscience. Or maybe not. He was a white boy. Nothing ever stuck. Anna was still having fun, however, and so was Elsa. She kept giving her the look. The one that said, ‘Let’s get out of here or else I’ll find us a place in this house where I can get my hands on you without having to keep it PG13.’ But they’d just gotten here, Anna thought. So she wasn’t having it just yet. She liked to tease.

But not too much, because by the third cranberry vodka she was all up and ready to go. Or maybe it was the fourth. Who cared? Anna didn’t. Willy Wonka sure didn’t. Elsa was already grabbing her coat, so she didn’t care either. The perks of dating an introvert.

It was shit cold outside, but that wasn’t news.

“I’ll drive,” Anna joked and giggled. She was so funny.

“Are you drunk?” Elsa threw the keys at her anyway. Anna caught them, so she was probs just tipsy. “Why are you entrusting me with the car?”

“It’s the suburbs. We can go at fifteen and be fine.”

PREPARE TO DIE!!!! Anna calmly thought. They went inside the car. What’s that oompa loompa doing in a car? she thought as well, and laughed again.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Elsa asked. Her cheeks were rosy pink and her eyes were kinda glassy. And why was she so goddamn pretty?

“I’m more sober than you are.”

“That’s a first.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “Aren’t you glad I keep being your first in everything?”

Elsa pulled at her wig. She took that as a yes.

Anna took the fifteen to heart even though it felt so. damn. slow. She felt worse than somebody’s grandma. Hell, she felt worse than Elsa.

“I’m getting dizzy.”

“But I’m only going at fifteen. I’m practically crawling.”

“Can you stop the car?”

Oompa loompa stopped the car and ugly Christmas gift exited. Anna didn’t realize they had stopped outside of the same house that Elsa almost drove into hours earlier until they were standing in front of it, Elsa taking big gulps of cold air and Anna just standing there, being her Anna self. The wig kept itching so she took it off.

“Are you okay, babe?”

Elsa nodded slowly. “I think you put too much vodka in that last drink.”

“You made that one.”

“Oh.”

Anna reached for her hand and walked her into the white suburban mom’s front yard. The deer really did look like horses and Santa Claus looked like the creepy uncle you try to stay away from. The snowman looked like everybody else’s nightmares. They stood in the yard, both of them staring at the fireplace that burned in the living room—with everything hella open, by the way. Who kept the curtains drawn during these hard times? And where was the All-American family? Was this meant to be a horror story?

“We look like total creeps right now,” Anna muttered.

She saw Elsa nod from her peripheral vision. Then she felt a hand wrap around her arm. “Sit with me for a while.”

“Uh, here? I’m not sure we’re allow—okay, yes. Okay.” She sat down with Elsa on the snow knowing she’d regret it soon. Like, a moment long. However long that was.

Elsa hugged her, nuzzling her neck. It tickled, but in a nice way. “I’ll keep you warm,” she mumbled.

“I doubt that.”

“I can try.”

“You really are drunk,” Anna laughed.

“And you smell like feet.”

“Okay. Ew. That was the wig.”

“Sure, Jan.”

“Who’s Jan.”

“My lover.”

“Ah.” Her ass was beginning to go numb. “Do I really smell like feet?”

“No, you smell like Anna.”

She smiled like an idiot. “I bet your lover could never,” she said.

“No,” Elsa mumbled, still close to her neck. “That’s why I love you the most.”

Anna decided it was enough sitting so she kinda just flipped over and pushed Elsa to the ground—cause she didn’t mind the snow and the cold and whatnot—so that she could place herself on top of her. Elsa was laughing but that was probably because she was drunk. Under different circumstances she’d be the one questioning whether it was a good idea to make out on some stranger’s yard.

But they didn’t make out then—PLOT TWIST NUMERO TREE!

Anna got too distracted watching Elsa laugh, in a non-creepy way. Because real talk: Anna was stupidly in love. She was in love in the cheesiest of ways. In an ‘I want to spend the rest of my chaotic life with you’ kinda way. She was in love with Elsa in a way that made her know she looked like an idiot when she stared at her but didn’t care anyway. She was in love with Elsa in a way Jan could never. And she knew Elsa was in love with her, too. Because honestly, who looks at you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world even though you look like one of Willy Wonka’s factory workers on a bad day? No one, your honor, that’s who. So somewhere deep down she knew what was coming before she even got the chance to register her own words.

“Marry me.”

Elsa fixed her eyes on her. The laugh became a giggle. “What?”

“Marry me, Elsa.”

All the metaphors in the fanfic world about Elsa’s blue eyes go here. It’s as though they lit up at those words, or maybe it was the yard’s obnoxious, bright lights. They will never know. The only thing Anna will remember with perfect clarity about that night will be Elsa’s response.

“Yes.”

#elsanna #submission #december 2020 contest #prompt: warmth #cw: alcohol use #cw: drunk driving #cw: Karen

7 notes · View notes

dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter 20

A special thanks to @statell for all your help

Previous chapters on AO3

Chapter Twenty

Jamie and Jason stood on the tarmac and watched Air Horse One take off with their triple crown winner. The post-race tests of saliva and blood proved beyond a doubt that Runner won the race organically and there would be no one to contest.

“How do ye feel Jamie?”

“Very relieved.”

“You shouldn't have doubted them.”

“Don’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do, ye little upstart.”

Jason laughed at Jamie’s stern face and started walking to the taxi that would take them back to the hotel. Jamie’s phone was ringing constantly as friends called to congratulate them. Everyone felt jubilation and relief.

“How much will he get standing stud?”

“I figure around one-hundred the first year until the public knows he is fertile. After that, maybe two-hundred.”

“That doesn’t seem like much Jamie, not for a champion.”

Jamie looked at Jason, “That would be two-hundred thousand, Jason.”

Jason whistled and started doing the math. Insemination of the female had gone high tech for most of the animal breeders but not for horse racing, where the stud is required to cover the mare. During the breeding season he could cover a mare twice daily from February until early June.

“That’s like, forty-eight million dollars per year. Holy shit! Sorry.”

“Not quite. I would guess he will earn around ten million per year as a fertile stud. He won a bit over eight million with the races this year, so the racing is just the beginning. Once his offspring start winning races, especially if they make it to the Derby, it may go higher.

Jason was shocked at the number. “With money like that, you can keep me around to be his groom.”

“I had planned on selling him for stud and let someone else do all the work, but I don’t think that will happen with the Sassenach lovin him so much.”

“Train me. Teach me how to do everything and let me manage the stud part. I would love that!”

“And ye stay near yer girlfriend, aye?”

“What girlfriend?”

“Lulu, lad”

Jason stared at Jamie with wide eyes wondering what to say next. “Um, Lulu?”

“Is this a secret then? What is the mystery about?”

“I, I didn’t know if it was allowed at work.”

“Long as ye don’t date Claire, what do I care?”

Jason finally smiled and asked if he was hired as the stud manager.

”Ye really are presumptuous. Yer lucky I remember yer name every day.”

The taxi driver laughed out loud over that comment and Jason sulked. Jamie had considered training Jason if he wanted to stay but hadn’t spoken to Claire yet. That discussion would take place now that Jamie knew he wanted to stay in Kentucky.

Jamie considered the changes required to manage a standing stud. He made a mental list of products needed to build a breeding-shed, house the mares, transport them when needed, and vet services for ultrasound exams during the process. When the driver stopped in front of the hotel he was pulled from his thoughts.

Claire was ready early, as always, so Jamie suggested a cocktail at the hotel bar before they left to the airport. The race was only five hours ago and already she seemed like a different person, she looked different too. Jamie hoped she would be happy now that the racing was over.

They sat at the bar and chatted about the race. It started with one gentleman who approached them to congratulate Claire on her Triple Crown win, then another, then another, until she was surrounded by people. Claire was gracious and truly moved by the comments and those who had followed Runner’s races since early on. One man produced a ticket he bought for Runner to win. It was worth money, but he was keeping it as a souvenir.

When it became obvious that Claire’s fans were not going to leave, Jamie excused them to leave for the airport. He was so damn proud of her it was hardly containable. She had single-handedly raced the colt into superstardom. They set new track records at Chapel Hill in the Derby, as well as the Preakness, and his extraordinary record at Belmont where he beat the last record by two seconds. It was phenomenal to such a high degree Jamie had to shake his head with wonder.

Claire waved to Jason who was sitting on a couch waiting to board. He was on his cell and had a rosy glow and a smile.

“I would bet a paycheck that boy is talking to a girl.”

“Well, ye haven’t drawn a paycheck for five months, although I do owe ye seven or eight million dollars. Will ye take a check?”

“He must have a girl in New York that we have kept him from. Poor Jason.”

“Ah…Sassenach, the girl is in Kentucky.”

Claire gave him a surprised look, “who is it?”

“Lulu.”

Claire’s eyes were wide with amusement. “Who in the world could resist that little girl. How totally sweet. Jamie, where’s Michael?”

“He is staying in New York. It’s his home base and he wants to get started on the book. Sassenach?”

Claire’s eyes turned red with the sting of oncoming tears. Her attempts to stop them failed and she cried. Jamie hugged her and spoke in her ear.

“It makes ye sad, love, that the racing is over?”

“Not one bit. But we have had a team and bumped into each other for the last four months and now it’s all changing. Three days out of five Michael is snarky and yells, I certainly won’t miss that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me Jamie.”

“I do. Ye were attached at the hip for many months and now yer free. Give it a few days mo chridhe.”

Jamie pulled the armrest up, and pulled her towards him to rest. He looked down at her open eyes and figured it would take some time for her to come down from the stratosphere she was in after the race.

“Can I talk to ye about something, love?”

Claire sat up looking almost relieved to put off her nap, “of course.”

“Well, it’s come to my attention that Jason wants to stay in Kentucky, full time. I’ve been thinkin he might take to managing Runner’s breeding. It’s a lot of responsibility but he’ll have both of us to help until it’s effortless. He has a great skill with horses, he’s not afraid of anything, and I can’t do it because I’ll be callin ye home twice a day after watching that brute have his way with the lasses.”

Claire held her stomach laughing at that comment, it was music to Jamie’s ears. “What makes ye laugh Sassenach?”

She sputtered out about Jamie getting turned on by watching horses mate.

“Have ye ever seen it? Silly question. If ye had seen it before, the mere mention of the act would have ye squeezin yer thighs together and pullin me to cover ye.”

“What?”

“Oh, ya, Sassenach. It’s not for the weak. Ye see it brings out the brute in men and the surrender in women.”

Claire’s eyes were round, “what makes it so erotic for heaven’s sake.”

“Never mind Sassenach. If you care to watch when the time comes, ye best make sure I’m nearby.”

“Oh, really?”

She looked a bit heated, so Jamie dropped it. With three hours of flight time left it would become unbearable if he teased like he wanted to.

Once they were back in Kentucky, they all made their way to Runner’s wing to check on the colt. It was so quiet, not a soul in sight. Such a harsh contrast to New York with the fanfare and screaming Runner fans. Jamie hugged her and apologized for not arranging a loud welcome home.

“So, lass, we find ourselves with a few hours to kill. Are ye ready to hear the rest of the breedin story? Mind ye, there are a lot of details about bitin, and grabbin, and thrustin.”

Claire exhaled out of open lips and eyes half-lidded, “yes, I can’t wait to hear the rest.”

Jamie was feeling he might not make it home without pulling her into the long grass, so they took the truck and stripped on their way to the shower. It took all of Jamie’s strength not to take her under the flowing water. That is not how one loves a Triple Crown winner, so he held himself back.

He dried her with fluffy towels and spread scented oil into her skin. When he rubbed near her nipples, she opened her mouth to facilitate heavier breathing. When he got between her legs, she watched him with rapturous eyes and a ramming heart. He led her to the bed and pushed her back on pillows against the headboard watching her watch him. He pulled her legs open and licked her bud with a warm wet tongue. Just once, then leaned on his elbow. It was storytime.

“The breeding shed I will build is for one purpose only, hot sex with a stallion. The mare’s estrus will drive him mad with lust until he will dispatch anyone who gets between them.” Jamie ran his flat palm over the skin of her legs and stomach. He bites her tail until she moves it aside, letting him sniff and lick her. She wants him, her pussy is flowing with her need that puddles between her back legs, and he goes wild and pushes his face into her.” Jamie ran his tongue over her throbbing bud for one minute and then he moved toward her breasts. ”He needs to bite her because it gets him ready. She wouldn’t stand for it normally, but she wants him like a thousand fires are burning in her pussy.” Claire was breathing hard and trying to touch him only to have her hands brought back to her sides. “When he mounts her, the extraordinary energy in the way he loves her carries most people off to find their partner and beg them to stop the throbbing.”

Claire’s eyes had glazed over and she was panting. Jaime pulled her to her hands and knees, entering her from behind and thrusting with power enough to make her orgasm, shaking her way back to earth.

“Ye looked a bit undone, love. Now we slow it down.”

He led her in and out of the heights of ecstasy, making his demands for her mouth and body until she was clinging to his shoulders begging him to finish her. He was holding back so fiercely it was easy to let it go when she did, and they blasted off together.

Jamie was slick with sweat when he held her close and made sure she dropped into the void. She needed to rest after such an exciting day, and he could tell she surrendered to her exhaustion. He laid back and finally allowed himself to think about their extraordinary future. In a few short months, Claire had taken him from dependence on Dunsany to a man of means, incredible means. He would pay off his debt after the first breeding season. He couldn’t wait.

The next day, Claire rested in bed or on the couch and ate the lunch Jamie prepared for them reminding her of their dinner at her house, a long time ago. He brought a tray with two bowls of Tomato soup and gooey cheese sandwiches. They dipped the sandwiches in the soup and ate with sounds of pure enjoyment. Once they were pleasantly stuffed, Jamie got behind her and held her to him until she was deep in sleep again. She would need strength and endurance to enjoy the night ahead.

“Where are we going, Jamie?”

“To the aquarium, love.”

Claire was thrilled with his choice and slipped into a short black dress with lace top stockings and very high heels. Her hair was straight and gleaming with the light. Her makeup was exotic and sexy. When they walked out to the truck, it had been washed and waxed.

It was the same exciting experience when they pulled up to the canopy walkway behind the aquarium. Jamie tossed the keys to the valet and walked into the building. Claire looked straight up to see what form of sea life was swimming above them. When she looked down again, she stopped in her tracks and gasped.

Molly smiled at her from a long table crowded with gifts, candles, and the faces of her twenty closest friends that had come together for her bridal shower. With some financial assistance from Jamie, Molly had pulled the surprise shower together, which was also doubling as a winner’s party tonight. Jamie turned her to him and kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be back to get you when you call, love. This is girls only.”

The waiters served sumptuous platters of meats, roasted vegetables, salads, and pasta. The women could not stop eating or drinking because the platters never stopped coming. When they had eaten all they could, the serving staff set up a very large screen and a slide projector. When the women were settled the slide show started and the girls laughed and commented, calling out the special features of each resort.

Jamie had collected slides of six resorts for their honeymoon by copying from the resort website and having the pictures converted. He started the project after putting Claire’s engagement ring on the second time. It turned into a labor of love that he attended to almost daily while she trained. He was excited to share the honeymoon possibilities with the people close to her.

Claire was all smiles as the girls ooh and ahh’ed. After the thirty-minute slide show, Molly called for a vote and told Claire she had total veto power and could go where she wanted. It was a tie between Tahiti and Bora Bora.

The gifts were piled in front of Claire who was absolutely delighted with beautiful lingerie, silk stockings, beachwear, and fancy items for entertaining. Claire reached for a large square gift that was leaning against the table. It felt like a picture and as the paper came off she saw a perfectly framed, focused, picture of she and Runner crossing the finish line of the Kentucky Derby. The photographer was infield capturing Claire, Runner, the packed stands and the twin spires. She was so surprised to see a huge smile on her face. She didn’t remember smiling at that moment, too busy hanging on to him she thought. The girls were thrilled with the picture and spoke of her win reverently. Claire looked at the attached card. It was from Nosh, “Happy bridal shower, I look forward to the rest of the story.”

Claire struggled to keep her tears at bay and the last gift was her undoing. Hope laid a gift on her lap and said it was from all of them. It was a cookbook with a separate chapter from each of them, including pictures of time spent with Claire, what the dishes look like, and special wishes to their friend. It unleashed a flood of tears as she hugged each one of them.

When Claire sat down, she felt a familiar hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Jamie smiling. A waiter stood at the table with shots for the women and their men who were invited for the end to toast the future bride and groom.

Dusty hugged Claire warmly and wished her the very best life. He added how deserving she was of unending happiness. Jason hugged her as well and she watched him navigate back to Lulu. When she saw a young man with Molly her eyebrows went up and she searched Molly’s face. The man leaned a hand across the table and introduced himself as Doctor Martin Young, DVM. Claire realized that Molly was dating her boss and looked quite happy about the budding romance. They ordered another round of shots for those who would indulge. The waiter came back with three men who stood with hands clasped behind their back, looking at the floor.

“The chefs have asked to meet you, Triple Crown winner.”

Claire stood and shook each of their hands, gushing about the food and thanking them. She recognized an Italian accent, but the other two men she couldn’t guess. They each asked three questions and thanked her, looking at the picture as they left.

Jamie’s arm went around her waist and he kissed her cheek.

“Ye alright, love?”

“You just wait until I get you home, mister.” What sounded like an invitation to fight was revealed as something quite different in her eyes. Jamie pulled at his collar and tie, suddenly quite heated.

It was a spectacular party with every detail planned out by Jamie and Molly. Claire was so touched as she hugged everyone goodbye, including the wait staff. She pressed her hands against the glass and two Beluga whales were there to say goodbye, one had a baby swimming close. She smiled at them and turned around to leave.

“That is her sister, and she is pregnant now too. I must leave a note for the manager about her condition. I sense she is deficient in calcium and magnesium which could harm the baby.” Claire wrote her note while she spoke to Jamie and handed it to a waiter on their way out.

If the aquarium had been just ten miles closer to the compound, they would have made it home. The extra ten miles gave Claire time to kiss her way to Jamie’s zipper where she took advantage of his occupation with driving until he turned sharply into the woods and stripped her bare before looking at her like the prize she was.

When they were pressed together, both slick with sweat and panting, they hardly had the strength to disengage. Jamie ran his hand up her naked back and wanted to tell her everything in his heart, but instead, he heard a metallic knock on the window making Claire jump out of her skin.

They heard it again followed by the officer’s irritated voice.

“Get dressed and step outside the truck or I pull you both out in two minutes.”

“Jesus Jamie, are we going to jail?”

“I don’t think so, love, but do hurry and get dressed so I don’t have to hurt the man just doing his job.”

“What?”

Claire looked at the ground as she handed her license to the officer. Jamie stared him right in the eye and felt no fear of arrest.

“Your names sound so familiar, ah Christ, repeat offenders, you people disgust me.”

The officer was reaching for his handcuffs when Jamie pulled his ace.

“Certainly not officer, first and last time I assure you. We’ve been so busy winning horse races, well, she has been, we were overcome with some alone time finally. Our names are familiar because Claire won the Triple Crown on Midnight Runner yesterday.”

Jamie had been in Kentucky long enough to know these were good people who were proud of their heritage and state. The officer froze and looked up at Claire. He took her hand and shook it while his face softened and he smiled.

“Thank you, for what you’ve done for the state of Kentucky ma’am. It’s an honor to meet you and you broke the law, but I can’t charge you. Midnight Runner is bred here and that will bring interest and money into this state for a very long time.”

He looked at Jamie, “you, on the other hand, should know better and you’re going to jail. Is this your husband ma’am?”

“No, uh, he is the breeder and owner of Midnight Runner, actually.”

The man’s head jerked up and Jamie thought he might pass out when the blood ran out of his face. The officer shook his hand and smiled before running to his cruiser coming back with his regulation pocket-sized notebook.

“No jail time for either of you. It was such an honor meeting you both. Can I get your autograph…please? Oh, my name is Jack.”

‘To Kentucky’s finest, thank you, Jack.’ Both autographs were below the sentence and the officer looked at his notepad like it was suddenly made of gold. He made haste getting his cruiser out of their way and waved out the window. Jamie laughed for the next five miles toward home. Claire was just thankful she wasn’t in jail. By the time they parked the truck at home, Claire was scratching her itchy bumps until she bled.

She hopped to the door so she could keep itching her leg. When Jamie looked at her under the porch light his eyes got wide and he picked her up and carried her inside. Claire had mosquito bites up and down her legs, both arms, chest, and face. Her little black dress and stockings did nothing to protect her while the officer detained them outside, in the dark, where she was feasted upon.

Jamie felt so sorry for her which she would never believe because he couldn’t stop laughing. After a shower, he counted two hundred and twenty-three bites before he covered her in calamine lotion. Once the lotion was dry, towels were laid on the bed and Claire laid on her back like a corpse. Jamie tried to kiss her goodnight but even her lips were pink, so he busied himself, quite unsuccessfully, with trying not to laugh.

Claire stayed inside for the next two days, repeatedly applying calamine lotion and doing her time until the bites were gone. Each morning Jason would greet Runner with his chipper hello, and later Jamie would give his daily hug and sugar cube. Neither of them could hear his continuous questions about Claire. Where is she, does she want to race, why isn’t she here, can we race now, I miss her, I am fearful.

Runner wouldn’t eat his dinner on what was his third day without seeing Claire. He whinnied and paced, kicked at the door and corral bars and refused to go outside during his favorite time of the day. Jamie told him he would bring Claire back to see him but Runner could not understand him.

“Sassenach, I need ye to come to the barn, Runner is having some distress and ye need to have a look.”

Claire stood up, ready to go with her pink patches remaining on the bumps that still itched. She didn’t care. She pulled Jamie toward the truck and then went straight to Runner’s stall. He was pacing with sweat running down his back and neck. When she walked around the corner he whinnied and pushed his chest into the bars to smell her, tracking her to the stall door as she came to hug him. He dropped his head and pressed into her back to get her closer as he nickered to her. Angus walked up behind a watching Jamie and shook his head.

“Any thought of sellin him to stud is just not gonna happen Jamie boy.”

Claire looked at Runner and said, “of course you can.” Then she opened the stall door and walked out with Runner right behind her. Jamie’s eyes were wide with alarm because Runner had no halter or lead. He held his breath and followed, along with Angus, as she led the colt out to the big pasture where he could gallop his stress away, toss his head with his tail in the air. He ran toward Claire at a murderous speed cutting to the right two feet in front of her. She didn’t flinch but called to Angus to bring Porcelain Love out to run with him. Angus almost fainted when Runner charged her, and his heart was still racing as he led Porcelain out. Once her halter was pulled off, she reared up on her back legs spinning her body toward the open pasture and took off. Angus said something about late for dinner and left quickly.

Jamie held is hand out to Claire and they walked to their favorite spot on the fence where they could see the sun setting and two magnificent horses celebrate being alive.

72 notes · View notes

aewriting · 4 years

Text

This is an angsty little fic I just wrote this evening. It's based on my recent viewing of RNM episode 2x01, a DM exchange with @angsty-aliens about that "I don't want to play your guitar" line, and some past "accidental sex worker Michael" head canons from @ninswhimsy and @lambourngb

Be warned - Michael is NOT in a good place in this, and it shows, especially in his interaction with Alex.

Warning for sex work.

Here it is on AO3, if you prefer.

***

“Michael?”

He’s drunk. He’s so drunk – on alcohol, acetone. He makes himself straighten up, really look at her.

Diana? Dana? No. “Deena, hi.” He tries to stay steady, smile. No, don’t smile… it’s a funeral, after all. “Been a while.”

“Sure has.” She eyes him, up and down. Not subtle. “You look good.”

He doesn’t. He knows that. He’s… he’s a fucking mess right now. But Deena was always more interested in touching than looking.

“I didn’t realize you knew Noah Bracken,” she says, slight frown on her face.

“Yep,” he says tightly. “Him and Isobel.”

He sees how it lands – the way Deena’s eyebrows raise, the way she quickly covers up a half-smirk. “I see,” she says, and Michael has to stop an eyeroll. Doesn’t correct her, though, doesn’t explain. It’s been a long time since he’s given a damn about his bad reputation, after all.

Deena’s eyes, still wide, flick to Isobel, in that skintight black dress of hers. “Well,” she says, clearing her throat, her gaze sliding over Michael again. “My husband’s on business in Canada right now.”

Oh Jesus.

“And you were always so… handy. Might have a few jobs for you.”

And now it’s Michael’s turn to look her over. Deena runs with the Ann Evans brunch crew. Red hair, good figure – clearly takes care of herself. If she’s had work, it’s subtle. Discreet. She really hasn’t changed that much since he last saw her, years ago…

First time had been an accident. It was that awful winter right after graduation, before he’d started out at Foster’s Ranch. Before the Airstream. And he honestly didn’t mean for it to happen, but he’d been…

He’d been desperate. He can see that now.

He’d tried to go about things honestly, at first. Tried. He was cold, hungry, and he wasn’t about to try to hit Isobel and Max up again, lost as they were in their own problems. So after one particularly bad storm, he scraped together all his money, went to the hardware store, and bought a shovel. Drove to one of the nice neighborhoods. Started going door to door.

Most people didn’t answer. It was the middle of the day, so they were probably at work, and no doubt some people just ignored him. Like, he probably looked shady. But he got a couple bites. At least the physical activity kept him warm, and he made a few bucks.

That’s how it had started, with Deena. She looked him over. Asked him his age. Seemed pleased when he’d said 19. “You look older,” she commented. He got to work on her driveway and sidewalk. Saw her peeking through the curtains. Looking at him. He assumed that she was checking in on his work, his progress.

He was been wrong.

He finished up and knocked on the door. Deena smiled at him. “You poor thing,” she cooed, looking him over. “Looks so cold out there. Want something warm to drink?”

And Michael was cold. Sore and tired. And here was this lady actually, actually fucking treating him nicely? “Sure,” he said, using the big smile.

She smiled back. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate?”

Oh god, hot chocolate sounded fucking awesome. That’s exactly what he ended up telling her, too, before realizing he’d said “fuck,” but she just laughed. Busied herself in the kitchen with the milk, the mix. “Take off your coat, stay a while.”

Nice, was Michael’s first thought. What does she want, was his second.

She made small talk, at first. Then started rubbing his shoulders. And that, that’s when Michael realized what was going on. And… and it wasn’t like it was off-putting. No. Deena was fucking hot. Her house was warm. He bet she’d let him shower, even.

One thing led to another. And when it was over, after he’d showered (with her), she gave him a lingering kiss and pressed a very generous “tip” into his hand.

“There’s a little extra there. For you,” she said with a wink. “You did such a good job out there,” she added. “You better come back next time it snows.”

So he did.

And a few times for raking leaves, the next fall.

Then another winter.

She wasn’t… wasn’t the only one who’d ever paid him, but she was... the least accidental. After that first time, anyway. And it’s not like he ever asked her to. She, she always volunteered it. At the end. Part of his tip. He didn’t, didn’t expect it, necessarily. Wouldn’t have pressed it, if she hadn’t kept it up. But it also wasn't like he was gonna turn it down, either. Right? Like, who would?

And really, wasn’t everything a goddamn transaction, anyway? People weren’t just nice to a kid like Michael, and they weren’t nice to an adult like him, either. They had an agenda.

Everybody… everybody has a fucking agenda.

Michael lets his gaze linger on Deena again, standing in front of him in her flattering, stylish black dress. Probably cost more than the monthly payment on his Airstream. “You still over on Hollybrook?”

Deena makes a face. “No, no… I’ve upgraded. Over in Montebello Heights now.”

Michael nods. “How long’s your husband in Canada?”

She bites her lip a little. “Weeks.”

Fuck it. Why not? “Then I’m sure you could use a man around the house. Take care of some things.”

She grins.

***

“I don’t want to hear a damn word about, about Project Shepherd. Or Caulfield, or my…” He shakes his head. “None of it, okay, Manes? I told you that.”

Alex sighs. “You did. Yeah, you did. Sorry.” He glances around the makeshift lab, looks quickly away from Max’s naked form, suspended in the pod. “I’ll just, just update Liz and Kyle with it.” He goes to leave. Stops. “How… how long you been in here?”

Michael shrugs. “Long enough.”

“You should get something to eat. Crashdown?”

Michael fixes him with a level gaze. He does need to eat. “Sure, Manes.”

They drive separately, thank god. Michael wishes they could eat separately, too, but he’s not that big of an asshole. Today, anyway.

Liz is working, and she raises an eyebrow at Michael, which he returns with a shrug. They get settled in a booth. Liz isn’t the one that waits on them. Michael gets his usual, a burger. Watches as Alex gets the enchiladas, eats them with gusto. Times like this, Michael can almost forget. Forget that he wants the distance, the end to this damnable push-pull they’ve been doing for years.

“Arturo’s are the best,” Alex is saying.

“If you say so,” Michael says shortly, and he sees Alex’s face fall, just a little. Part of him’s glad to still have that power. Part of him hates it.

Their server brings the bill, and Michael grabs for it. Alex frowns.

“Guerin,” he says, a warning in his tone.

“What?” Michael grits out. “Don’t need your charity, Manes.”

Alex closes his eyes, briefly. “I… I know that. This wasn’t…” He shakes his head a little. “Wasn’t charity.”

“Then you won’t mind me paying.”

But Alex, he just can’t leave it alone. “Isobel, she says that you haven’t been taking as much work, at Sanders’.”

“Since when is Isobel telling you about my – “

“And, and I see the way you are,” Alex barrels on. “You, you don’t seem good, Michael.”

And the audacity, the sheer nerve of Alex right now, Michael thinks. Cause when, when in their whole damn history has he ever seemed good? And why can’t Alex just see, just fucking listen and leave Michael the fuck alone? If he hasn’t realized after all these years just how fucked the two of them are, together, what’s it gonna take?

And then he has an idea.

He squares his shoulders, makes a show of pulling out his wallet, thumbing through the bills. “Don’t need to worry about me, Alex. I’ve picked up some work.” He gives a tight little smile. “Night shifts.”

Alex looks at him, surprised. “Oh,” he says, attention drawn to the money Michael is casually flashing.

“Yeah,” Michael says, drawing out the word. He can tell Alex is torn between asking more and just letting it be. So Michael pushes. Again. “An old employer. She’s generous.”

And that does it. “What, what are you doing, exactly?” Alex says, brow starting to furrow.

Michael just shrugs, gives him a smirk. “Something I’m good at. According to you, at least. And others.”

And at that, Alex’s face goes slack. “Oh my god.”

Michael shrugs. “Gonna do it anyway, might as well get paid.”

Alex’s eyes are darting around the Crashdown. He leans forward. There’s anger now, not just the shock. “Holy shit, Michael.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but just curses instead. “God damn it.”

Michael scoffs a little. “Well look at you, high and mighty. All offended. Not like you’ve never done it.”

Alex’s eyes widen. “What?” His mouth is open. “I’ve never, never –“

Michael laughs, a harsh, biting sound. “You’ve done it with me, Alex.”

“That’s bullshit – “

“Gave me a place to stay and a guitar. Then tried to kiss me.”

Alex’s mouth is pinched, tight. “No. No. Do not do this. That is not what that was – “

“Wasn’t it?” Michael asks, scrunching up his face in faux confusion. “Cause I don’t think you would’ve been so inviting if you hadn’t wanted my dick.”

“Stop it,” Alex hisses.

“Not like I didn’t want yours, too.” Michael shrugs. “Everything has a price, right?”

Alex looks sick. “Guerin, please. You don’t have to – “

“Course I don’t. Not now. Didn’t always have that luxury, though,” he says, voice hard. He takes out a few bills, slaps them on the table showily. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

He’s out the door fast, and he knows he shouldn’t turn back, shouldn’t try to catch a glimpse of Alex through the window, but he can’t help it. He’s still sitting, stunned-looking, in the booth.

Michael swallows hard. Turns and walks away. Maybe this time, it’ll stick.

#my fic #roswell nm #angst #Michael guerin #malex

34 notes · View notes