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thatkidwholikesthunderbirds · 3 years

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TAG Mini Bang 2021

Hey fam, This is mine and the amazing @katblu42′s contribution to the @tagminibang. Katblu42 wrote the story, of which I love so much, and i made a couple of doodles to go with it.

We both worked really hard on it, hope you enjoy.

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Deep Water

The summer is drawing to an end when an almost-twelve-year-old Virgil is lumped with looking after little bro Gordon for the day. When a simple walk in the woods becomes more than they bargained for, the pair must work together to overcome their fears.

Written by @katblu42

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“Hey, Virgil. Whatcha doin’?” Gordon bounced down the stairs and watched his brother carefully pack his brand-new artist’s set of watercolour pencils, mini easel, and sketchbook into his backpack, using one of his hoodies for padding. “I’m gonna go out on the top track and try out my new pencils. It’s gonna be a really nice day for practicing landscapes. I want to try and capture the way the light filters through the trees and . . .” As Virgil excitedly rambled on about all the things he wanted to draw, Lucy emerged from the kitchen with a lunchbox packed with sandwiches and snacks and two water bottles for Virgil to add to his bag. She ignored the eye-rolling from the younger boy, who obviously didn’t share the enthusiasm for artistic inspiration. Placing a hand on Virgil’s shoulder as she handed him the last of the supplies, Lucy smiled. “Sounds like the two of you are going to see all kinds of wonders today,” she said. Virgil opened his mouth to question, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You’re going to take your brother with you.” “But . . .” was all Virgil managed to squeak out, while Gordon sported a look of surprised incredulity. “It will do you both the world of good to spend some time together, just the two of you.”

Lucy knew these two didn’t always get along, mostly due to Gordon’s talent for finding exactly the right buttons to push to try Virgil’s patience. In fact, Gordon did that with everyone, but it somehow affected Virgil the most potently. Lucy, Jeff, and the other boys had little tolerance for Gordon’s annoying antics, but the fact that Virgil usually had an abundance of patience was exactly why Gordon got under his skin so much. With Virgil, Gordon would keep on pushing, keep needling, insistently nagging until that patience wore thin and caused Virgil to react in frustration. As a result, Lucy had noticed Virgil tending to avoid spending too much time with Gordon. But today she needed to pair them up together. Grandma would be by any minute to pick up Scott, as she was helping him log extra flying hours towards his pilot license while Jeff was away for work. John had already left for the library where they had been running a special summer program in the AV centre focussing on early space exploration because today was the last day he’d be able to see it. “Aw, Mom!” Virgil whined. “If he comes, I won’t get any drawing done.” “Yeah, Mom,” Gordon joined in, wrinkling his nose, “can’t I stay with you?” “Nope!” Lucy ruffled Gordon’s unruly blond locks. “I have errands to run today.” Gordon groaned. He hated being dragged all over town when his mom was running errands, mostly because the entire day was usually spent listening to her tell him he couldn’t run off too far or do anything fun – getting up to mischief, she called it. Lucy knew her day would be difficult enough with a toddler in tow without adding a hyperactive six-and-a-half-year-old to the mix. For a moment, she felt for Virgil. In a way, he had a point. He’d have to keep Gordon occupied, which would take his focus away from his artistic endeavours, but she had faith that the two of them would find a way to make it work. She stood between the two boys and, with a hand on a shoulder of each, pulled them into a hug. “You two go out and have fun.” She placed a kiss on first Virgil’s and then Gordon’s forehead. “Be good, look after each other, and don’t get into any trouble!” She ushered them through the door and watched them head out, turning back to wave goodbye to her from the front gate before continuing westward towards the top track. She would always worry about her boys out there on their own, but they all knew the rules and had repeatedly been warned of the various dangers contained within their little patch of wilderness. Virgil was not inclined to be reckless or break the rules, but the lure of an interesting view could distract him at times. Looking after a younger brother would help keep his attention more focused. It was one of Lucy’s secret weapons. Pairing a big brother with a little one always seemed to make the big brother more inclined to obey the rules and watch for dangers.

The two boys made quick progress across the open paddock towards the trees, Virgil striding out confidently, Gordon occasionally having to run for a few steps to catch up. Once they reached the track that wound its way through the trees, the pace began to slow. Virgil’s gaze wandered as he walked, noticing in great detail the colours of the foliage and tree bark, the stark contrasts formed by shafts of sunlight filtering between the trees and highlighting this branch or those leaves. He would hear the cry of a bird and look up, searching the treetops to see if he could catch sight of the culprit. Despite the distractions, however, Virgil didn’t stop walking. He had a destination in mind, and he was keen to get there so he could start drawing. Gordon found distractions of his own along the track. He’d hear skittering noises in the dirt and leaf litter beside the track and stop to see if he could spot the creature that had scuttled away. He found spiderwebs woven between the trees and bushes, and noted with interest whether or not the spider was home and if they’d caught anything. He, too, would search the trees and sky for birds that called out their various songs. Unlike Virgil, Gordon stopped often and would have to run to catch up to his bigger brother, usually after Virgil called out to him to hurry up. After falling behind for the fourth time, Gordon decided to run ahead along the track a bit. That way Virgil would have to catch up to him! He stopped short when he came to the fork in the track. An idea struck him, and he jogged back to his brother. “Hey, Virgil?” He had a glint in his eye that the older boy knew well enough to be worried about. “We should go down to the lake!” “No.” “Oh, come on! Why not?” His voice was verging on whiny and his expression close to a pout. “We’re not supposed to go to the lake on our own, it’s –” “We’re not on our own, we have each other!” Gordon didn’t want to give Virgil a chance to argue or talk about possible dangers. “We’re not gonna do anything dangerous or anything. It’s nice by the lake. Besides, you said your pencils were watercolours. Shouldn’t you draw something with water?” “That’s not . . . Uugghh!” Virgil sighed, rolled his eyes, and rubbed a hand through his hair. He knew steering this particular brother away from water was going to be a hard sell, and if he was honest with himself, his little brother was right about the lake being a good place to draw. It would give him an opportunity to practice drawing reflections, which was something he’d been wanting to experiment with. And the view across the lake was pretty spectacular. But swimming in the lake could be dangerous. If they went to the lake, Virgil knew his entire day would be spent watching Gordon in the water. Gordon studied the expression on his brother’s face for some sign of what he was thinking. He had that look of intense concentration he used when he was figuring out how to fix something. Virgil slowed to a stop and looked down at Gordon. “If we go to the lake –” As Virgil spoke, Gordon’s face broke out in a wide gap-toothed grin as he sensed he had won. “I said if! If we go to the lake, you have to promise me you won’t go for a swim. I came here to draw, not play lifeguard.” “Aww! Virge, it’s summer! It’s a great day for a swim.” His smile was gone, and he now had to trot alongside his brother as Virgil began walking again, setting a brisk pace. He was going to have to fight hard to get his way. “Pleeeeease!” No reaction. “What if I promise not to go in any deeper than up to here?” He indicated his waist. Virgil’s eyebrows drew down into somewhat of a scowl, but he slowed his walking pace again. “You have to stay dry above the knees,” he said. “Yes! Okay, I can do that.” Gordon’s big, infectious grin was back, and he literally bounced with happiness and excitement at his victory. “I promise I won’t go in past my knees, and I’ll be good so you can just do your drawings.” Virgil tried to keep his expression serious, but his little brother’s glee was so irresistible he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Pretty soon he was grinning too, and they headed down the left fork in the track towards the lake. As they descended the narrow trail, weaving between trees and larger rocks, the hard-packed dirt underfoot gradually giving way to sandy soil, Gordon’s excitement was barely containable. He ran ahead down the track, calling to Virgil to hurry, ran back to his brother urging him to walk quicker, tugging at his hand, gave up, and ran ahead again before he could even see Virgil roll his eyes. The whole process was then repeated. Twice. Soon enough the trees lining the track thinned out, allowing glimpses of dark blue water. The track curved, and suddenly they emerged from the trees onto an expanse of silty sand with the lake spread out before them, rippling and glistening in the sunlight. The dark greens of the trees on the far side of the lake separated dark blue water from pale blue sky on the horizon. Gordon ran straight to the water’s edge, while Virgil took a moment to take in the entire scene. The lake itself didn’t cover a particularly large area, but it was very deep in places. Virgil estimated that it was more than half a mile from side to side, north to south, and possibly as far as three hundred metres to the trees on the other side from where Gordon now stood. The hills to the north funnelled water down into the lake via a network of creeks and streams. The surface of the lake looked relatively calm, but it hid unpredictable undercurrents as the water worked its way to the small stream that trickled away from the natural dam at the lake’s southern tip. There were a few tiny islands dotted throughout the lake, most of them closer to the far side, some large enough to have trees growing on them, others no more than large rocks with their tops protruding from the water. A short walk along the water’s edge northward took Virgil past a small wooden pier with a little dinghy tied to it, gently rocking and bumping with the lazy motion of the water. Beyond that, the flat sand gave way to a series of rocky, sloped banks. Picking his way up over some of the lower rocks, Virgil climbed up onto a large, relatively flat boulder that afforded him a good view and room to set out all his materials. He could see the beach (as Gordon called it) and his brother discarding his shoes and socks so he could explore the shallows and the little boat attached to the pier, with the water stretching away before him. Once he had carefully unpacked his easel and sketchbook and placed his pencils beside him within easy reach, Virgil began to sketch out some rough outlines. It wasn’t long before Gordon popped his head up over the edge of Virgil’s rock platform.

“Is that all you’ve done so far?” he asked with curious disbelief. “You should use more colours.” “Gordon.” Virgil’s tone was a warning. “Okay, okay,” Gordon said, raising his hands, palms outwards. “I just wondered if it’s lunchtime yet. I’m hungry.” Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he looked at his younger brother, searching for any signs of mischief and finding none. He realised Gordon was probably right, it was time for lunch. Virgil had been too caught up in what he was doing to notice how long it had been since they’d eaten breakfast. “All right, let’s see what Mom packed for us to eat.” He dug the lunchbox and water bottles out of his backpack while Gordon climbed up onto the rock and sat cross-legged beside him. Neither boy was surprised to find their mom had provided each of them with their favourite sandwich toppings, and they ate hungrily. Gordon would have polished off all the snacks too, but Virgil prudently suggested they should save those for later. They washed the sandwiches down with a hearty helping of water, making sure to save some of that too. When their little picnic was done, Gordon started to scamper back down over the rocks. “You can go back to drawing now,” he delivered a parting shot with that cheeky grin, “I’m gonna go see if I can find any fish.” “Stay out of the water,” Virgil warned. “You just ate.” “Ugh! I’m not stupid, Virgil! And besides, I’m only going in up to my knees, remember!” “I remember. I’ve just gotta make sure you do!” Virgil watched as Gordon started to clamber down the rocks. “Stay where I can see you!” he called after him. “And be careful! The rocks can get slippery.” “I’ll be fine!” Gordon yelled back, and added under his breath, “Spoilsport.” “I heard that!” Virgil didn’t see Gordon poke his tongue out before he ran off along the sand to go and get his feet wet again. He stood in the shallow water, running his hands over the slimy reeds looking for little fish. He spent some time digging his toes into the sand to see what little creatures came darting out into the water as it clouded around his feet. Virgil’s focus was split between the landscape that was rapidly developing on the paper and keeping tabs on Gordon. Every little, excited exclamation had Virgil looking along the beach, wondering what his brother had found. But his attention was inevitably pulled back to his watercolour sketch. Coming out of the water for a while, Gordon picked his way along the sand, gathering a pocketful of stones before finding a spot to stand and skip them across the surface of the lake. He was pretty proud of the one he managed to get to skip eight times before it sank. The clicky slap of the first skipped stone had Virgil’s head turning to watch, making sure his brother was still keeping out of trouble. He wondered who had taught Gordon to skip stones and fondly remembered Scott showing him how it was done. Gordon was actually pretty good at it, and he kept at it for quite a while. After that, Gordon wandered closer to the trees looking for beetles and interesting insects. He even took one or two of them over to show Virgil. He did the same with some of the smooth pebbles he’d found, especially the ones that had pretty colours or unusual patterns. Virgil liked those ones, he could tell. And every time he returned to Virgil up on his rock, while he munched on a snack or took a drink of water, he took a peek at what his brother was drawing. There was one main drawing of the view across the lake that was more and more detailed every time Gordon saw it, but there were some other smaller sketches too. Gordon wasn’t sure if they were like little practice drawings for things that Virgil wanted to add to the main one or if they were something else. It looked like some of those extra sketches included him, some were of the treasures he’d brought to show his brother, and some he couldn’t quite decipher yet. The afternoon sun beat down on them, too high in the sky for any shadows long enough to provide decent shade. Virgil barely noticed, but Gordon felt the heat. He had climbed back down from Virgil’s perch and was now sitting on the end of the little boat dock dangling his feet in the water. He kicked his feet, splashing and watching new ripples form. The water was pleasantly cool against his legs, but his head and shoulders yearned for that same refreshing feeling. He looked out across the lake, longing to jump in and immerse himself in liquid heaven. He was regretting his promise. “Gordon,” Virgil called down to him, “stop splashing around so much. I don’t want you falling in.” In response, Gordon just sighed. A gull squawked nearby, and he watched it wing its way to a large rock protruding from the water, joining other gulls and ibises sunning themselves. It was the closest island to where he sat, and it didn’t look too far to swim to. It was so hot. It would just be a quick swim. “Hey, Virgil,” Gordon called out, twisting his body around to look up at his brother, “how far do you think it is to that big rock out there?” Virgil took a moment to stand up and stretch muscles that he hadn’t really moved in nearly two hours. He looked where Gordon pointed and couldn’t help doing a rough calculation in his head to estimate the distance, but he knew where this question was leading. “Too far,” he answered. “You’re not going to swim to it. No deeper than your knees, remember?” “But, Virge . . .” “No, Gordon! It’s dangerous. We don’t swim out that far when Mom and Dad bring us down here, I’m not letting you go out there alone.” “But I’m a good swimmer, and the water’s really flat and calm, and it’s so hot . . .” “I said no!” Virgil was almost shouting now. Why wasn’t Gordon listening to him? Couldn’t he see how bad an idea this was? “It’s gotta be at least eighty metres out to that rock, and you can’t see the currents at work under the surface or the reeds or the cold spots or how deep it is. It’s not like swimming in the pool in town.” “Eighty metres is easy! I already have my two-hundred-meter freestyle achievement certificate. I’ll be out there and back in no time.” As he spoke, Gordon started removing his T-shirt. “Gordon, don’t!” Virgil’s heart was hammering at his rib cage like it was trying to break free, and he started making his way down the rocks towards the boat dock, knowing he wasn’t going to be quick enough. “Bet I’ll do it in the fastest time ever. Time me, Virgil.” And with a flash of a wicked grin, he turned and dived into the water. Virgil ran across the sand and onto the wooden dock, heart still pounding fit to burst as Gordon swam away. All he could do was stand there and watch. As scared as he was, he couldn’t help being a little bit in awe of his little brother. Even though he was little, he was a good swimmer. From his very first swimming lesson two years ago, he had been very much at home in the water. He learned fast and seemed to have the knack of skimming the surface of the water when he swam – unlike Virgil, who always felt like he was fighting the water, trying to stop it from pulling him down. He didn’t mind admitting that Gordon was a better swimmer than he was, but the little fish had no experience with open water – or getting out of trouble on his own. It wasn’t long before Gordon was halfway to the rock island, and everything seemed to be going fine. Virgil even managed to start to relax a bit. It seemed like he was going to make it out there just fine. His pace had slowed a little, but that was to be expected. Then suddenly something wasn’t right. Gordon had slowed right down, almost to a complete stop, his legs no longer breaking the surface with his kicks. He rolled onto his back and made a couple of awkward backstrokes, then he went under. Just for a millisecond. But it was enough to have Virgil scrambling to get into the dinghy. Gordon tried to shout, but the effort seemed to cause his head to bob under again. Virgil rowed as fast as he could, his head twisted to look over his shoulder, not wanting to take his eyes off his little brother, praying each time he went under that he’d see blond hair break the surface again. Swear words repeated over and over like a mantra with every stroke of the oars. Strong, long strokes propelled the little wooden boat through the water. He fought back panic. He would get there in time. He had to get there in time. He had to save his brother. Gordon seemed to be losing the battle to stay afloat, arms flailing, panicking, bobbing and spluttering. He knew Virgil was trying to get to him, and he was desperate to keep his head above water until he got there, but kicking was difficult and painful. His left leg was not obeying. He’d never experienced a cramp like this before. Virgil finally reached the spot where Gordon had just gone under again. Leaning over the side of the boat, mindful of leaning too far and capsizing, he grabbed a flailing arm with one hand and reached the other into the water to grab a handful of blond hair. He ignored the shock of the cold mere inches below the surface and hauled his brother up far enough for him to gasp for air. He adjusted his grip and dragged Gordon into the boat, where he lay coughing and spluttering, shivering and absolutely terrified. Virgil sat, boat rocking beneath them, breathing hard and equally terrified, watching his brother, grateful for the coughing because at least he knew he was still breathing. “You okay?” Virgil panted out once the coughing had died down a little. “Cramp!” Gordon gasped out in reply, indicating his left leg. “Calf muscle? Here?” Virgil was kneeling with Gordon’s left foot resting on his thigh, fingers gently kneading into his calf. Gordon responded with a nod and a little groan of pain. Virgil spent a few minutes massaging the cramped muscle. He wasn’t sure if Gordon’s tears were from the pain in his leg or fear or relief, but he suddenly felt like he’d do anything to stop them. All he could offer were words of reassurance. Words that comforted both of them. “It’s okay, Gords. You’re okay. You’re safe now.” Virgil’s fingers worked methodically, gently, gradually relaxing the muscle, relieving Gordon’s agony, and calming both of them down in the process. Gordon was soon wriggling his leg free of Virgil’s grasp to sit up on the floor of the little rowboat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs, still shivering. “Hold on, Gordon.” Virgil shifted himself back onto the seat and took up the oars. “Let’s get you back to shore and then we can warm you up.” Rowing back to the wooden dock seemed to take so much longer than it had to row out into the lake. Virgil wasn’t sure if this was because there were currents working against him or if he was just a great deal more tired now. Or maybe it was the lack of terrifying urgency driving his actions on the return trip. Either way, he was grateful to make it safely to the dock and get the boat secured. Gordon was adamant he could get out of the boat on his own, but Virgil’s assistance was accepted readily when he found himself unsteady on his feet. Virgil retrieved the T-shirt Gordon had so hastily tossed aside earlier and draped it over his little brother’s back. It didn’t take much convincing for Gordon to remain sitting on the dock in the same knees-huddled-to-chest position he’d adopted in the boat while Virgil raced up to his rock platform to retrieve all his gear. He also made a quick dash across the sand to find Gordon’s discarded shoes before returning. He didn’t like how quiet and still the normally boisterous boy was. The paleness of his skin and the fact he was still shivering – or perhaps trembling – worried him even more. The now damp T-shirt had been pulled on over his head but offered little in the way of warmth. “Hey, Gordon. Arms up,” Virgil instructed, holding his own hoodie ready to slip over the blond head. Gordon did as he was told without comment or complaint, seeming to Virgil a little like some sort of robotic puppet. The hoodie was way too big, but it was soft and thick and most importantly dry. With head and arms now inserted into their correct holes, Virgil knelt in front of Gordon and pulled the hoodie down over his entire tucked-up body. Not even his feet protruded from beneath the hem. He then wrapped his arms around the whole bundle of little brother and rubbed vigorously to generate some heat. “Virgil?” Glossy brown eyes peeked out from beneath the sweater’s hood. The voice was quiet and had a quality to it that felt somehow small and uncertain. “I’m sorry.” The look in his brother’s eyes, more than the words, stung Virgil somewhere deep inside. “What?” Virgil answered. “What for?” “I didn’t listen. You told me not to and I . . .” “That doesn’t matter now.” Virgil’s arms tightened ever so slightly around him, and Gordon rested his head against his big brother’s shoulder. “All I care about right now is making sure you’re okay.” For a moment, the two boys stayed locked in the embrace, Gordon letting the feeling of safety envelop him, Virgil feeling the rise and fall of Gordon’s chest with every breath. He was relieved to find his brother relaxing into an even, steady pattern of deep breaths. There was no sign of any wheezing, and the coughs and splutters seemed long gone. “Come on. Let’s get you home,” Virgil said softly, giving Gordon’s back one final rub before releasing the hug. He slipped his backpack straps over his shoulders, held his hands out for Gordon to take so he could help him onto his feet, then lifted him up into a reverse piggyback hold. Gordon’s arms looped around his neck, and his legs wrapped around his waist without hesitation or protest, and Virgil set off for home at a slow but steady pace. The gentle but constant incline of the path back to the top track gave Virgil quite a workout with the additional weight he carried, but he took it in his stride. Gordon remained so still and quiet, hooded head resting against his left shoulder, Virgil thought he might have fallen asleep. He tried not to jostle his bundle of brother too much as he picked his way up the hill. When he reached the relative flat ground where the lake path rejoined the top track, Virgil took a moment to catch his breath, and Gordon stirred. “Hey, Virgil?” he said quietly. “When we get home . . . we don’t have to tell anyone what happened, do we?” “Gordon, we have to tell Mom. You nearly drowned!” Gordon caught his brother’s gaze and for the first time saw there was fear in those deep brown eyes. It made something in his insides feel fluttery. “But I’m okay,” he pleaded. “You saved me.” “I pulled you out of the water, but . . .” Virgil wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence and sighed. “If you got any water in your lungs, that would be bad. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but sometimes it can make a person have trouble breathing hours after they’ve been rescued from drowning.” “Oh.” The initial response was almost whispered, then Gordon’s features and tone brightened. “But –” “Did you swallow any water?” Virgil cut him off. “Because the water in the lake could make you sick if you did.” Gordon’s brow creased. “No. I don’t think so. Maybe?” Virgil sighed once more, then began walking again. “I don’t want to scare you, Gords, but what happened out there was a big deal.” “I know,” Gordon whimpered, and held on to Virgil a little tighter. “But I’m not scared now. I’m safe. I was afraid. In the water, when I thought . . . when I couldn’t . . . It was scary, but now I’m not scared because you’re here and you saved me.” Virgil remained silent. “Would it be less scary for you if you stay with me until you know I’m not going to get sick or stop breathing?” Gordon whispered. The rhythm of Virgil’s footfalls faltered for a step or two. “I promise I won’t leave your sight until you’re sure I’m okay. Then we don’t have to tell Mom unless I get sick. Okay?” For a moment, Virgil couldn’t say anything. The lump in his throat was too much of an obstacle. He blinked a few times to clear his swimming vision, huffed out a ragged sigh, and hitched his brother a little higher on his hips. “Okay, Little Fish. You got a deal. I won’t tell Mom, and you and I stick together like glue for tonight.” Not long after their deal was struck Virgil’s steady paces brought them out of the trees and into the paddock, with home in sight. It seemed they had beaten Lucy home, as her car wasn’t parked in its usual spot, but John’s bike was neatly leaned on its stand next to the others, and Virgil suspected Scott was already home too.

He was relieved to finally climb the stairs and deposit Gordon gently on his feet on the front porch. Slipping off his backpack and rolling his shoulders to ease tired muscles, Virgil followed his younger brother through the front door and into the kitchen. He might have known Gordon would gravitate towards food. At least this was a good sign – if Gordon was hungry, then he probably wasn’t feeling any ill effects from swallowing lake water. “Oh, look. It finally happened,” Scott said with a smirk and an elbow to John’s ribs. “One of Virgil’s hoodies grew legs and walked away.” “Ha-ha,” Gordon replied as he grabbed the jug of juice from the fridge. “Seriously, Gordon,” John spoke up from his seat at the kitchen table, where he and Scott had been finishing their afternoon snacks, “what’s with the hoodie? It’s gotta be ninety-six degrees outside.” “He just wanted to prove me wrong,” Virgil chimed in, walking straight to the cupboard and grabbing a couple of glasses. “I told him he would disappear completely inside one of my hoodies.” He noted the suspicious looks but ignored them as he poured juice for himself and Gordon. “How was the space thing at the library?” As John began eagerly explaining in great detail the highlights of the interactive exhibition, Virgil met Scott’s expression of curiosity with his best nothing-to-see-here shrug. He knew the innocent look he tried to project wouldn’t be enough to prevent Scott from seeing straight through the change of subject. Scott’s sapphire-blue eyes had the ability to cut like diamonds, and right at that moment Virgil felt the full weight of their scrutiny. He tried to give a reassuring smile and turn his attention to John’s increasingly fast-paced account of the space exhibit. “Actually, that sounds pretty cool,” Gordon said with an air of surprise and a warm smile at the conclusion of John’s animated description. He drained the dregs of his glass of juice and turned to Virgil. “I’m gonna go upstairs and change clothes.” “I’ll be up in a minute,” Virgil replied. Gordon left the room at a trot and bounded up the stairs. Scott and John were both back to studying Virgil intently. “What?” “Why’s Gordon so attached to you all of a sudden?” Scott asked. “He’s practically asking you for permission to leave the room.” Virgil’s gaze flicked between the blue and the turquoise, and he resisted the urge to squirm. “I don’t know. I guess we just had kind of a good day.” It was the only thing Virgil could think of to say. “You two spent the whole day together and you’re not sick of the sight of each other?” It was John’s turn to question the lack of frustrated bickering that would normally have surfaced between them. Virgil just shrugged, finished his own glass of juice, and picked up his backpack. “I’m gonna go put this stuff away.” He left the room, deliberately not hurrying but desperate to escape from the interrogation he felt was coming. As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Gordon’s bedroom door opened. He was wearing his clownfish pyjamas, and Virgil couldn’t help but grin. “Virgil?” Gordon packed so much uncertainty into just his name Virgil was a little concerned at what might be coming. “Do you think maybe . . . I mean could we, maybe . . . Do you wanna build a blanket fort with me?” “Actually, I think that’s a pretty great idea.” When Lucy arrived home, wrangling a grizzly Alan who had missed his afternoon nap, and exhausted from a rather frustrating day full of unnecessary delays at every stop, she found Scott and John in the kitchen getting dinner started. Neither had seen the other two boys in a while, so she settled Alan in the living room with his favourite cartoon and headed upstairs to investigate. She found them in Gordon’s and Alan’s room. At least, she found evidence that this was where they had been for some time. Half of the room was obscured by a complex construction created out of pillows, blankets, and assorted bed linen supported by various pieces of furniture and some rather ingeniously rigged clothesline string. “Well, look at you two in here together, thick as thieves!” Lucy said as her head emerged from between two blankets that served as the entrance. “Hi, Mom! We’re building a blanket fort!” Gordon explained excitedly. Virgil rolled his eyes. “She can see that, doofus.” “And it is quite an impressive feat of engineering.” She winked and smiled. “What did you boys get up to on your walk today? Lots of exciting adventures, no doubt.” A look passed between the two. “Nothing,” Gordon blurted out, just as Virgil spoke. “Not much.” Virgil added a shrug and a somewhat apologetic expression. “Just . . . boy stuff.” “Yeah, Mom. Boy stuff,” Gordon repeated emphatically. “We can’t tell you because you’re a girl.” Lucy’s head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised, and the corners of her mouth and eyes began a slow upward quirk into a smile. She wondered what they were up to, but she was happy the two of them were getting along well. “Hmm. Does this boy stuff include any drawings I’m allowed to see?” If they wouldn’t tell her where they’d been, perhaps she could discern something from Virgil’s sketches. “Can I show you later? Tomorrow maybe?” Virgil squirmed a little under the inquisitive gaze of those soft, honey-coloured eyes. Usually he loved sharing his artworks with Mom. She always praised the bits she thought he’d done well and knew exactly how to suggest little improvements without making it seem like he’d made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she saw more in his drawings than what he’d put in them. “Okay,” she said, changing tack. “Are you two coming out of there to join the rest of us for dinner?” Another look between the brothers. The plot thickening before her eyes. “Can we come back in here after dinner?” Gordon asked. “Could we, maybe, both sleep in here for tonight?” Virgil followed up quickly. Lucy studied the faces of her two brown-eyed boys. These two were not regular partners in shenanigans. There was something going on here that she was not quite sure she understood just yet, but there didn’t seem to be any harm in what they were asking. “I don’t see why not,” she answered, and was rewarded with two beaming smiles. “Go wash up and you can set the table while I help your brothers finish up in the kitchen.” Dinner for the most part was about as chaotic as usual. Alan was still irritable and played with more of his food than he ate, making a mess of himself and the table in front of him in the process. Scott and John both gave lengthy answers to their mom’s enquiries about how they had spent the day. There were all the usual arguments over who would get the last helpings of this or that as plates and dishes were rapidly emptied, their contents hungrily devoured. Virgil and Gordon managed to talk about the more innocent parts of their day, clinging to descriptions of what plants were flowering, the types of birds they saw, the spiders and beetles and butterflies, rather than any specific mention of the lake. As the scrape of knives and forks on plates finally died down, Lucy began clearing serving dishes off the table. “How about tomorrow we all have a day at the pool?” Standing behind her water-baby as she spoke, she gave his hair a ruffle. John and Scott were both quick to answer with excited affirmatives, Alan enthusiastically exclaimed “Swim!”, but she didn’t see the panicked look that flashed across Gordon’s face as he looked across the table at Virgil. “That sounds great, Mom,” was Virgil’s reply as he kept his eyes firmly on Gordon, trying to relay a sense of calm reassurance that he didn’t really feel. If anyone noticed Gordon’s lack of enthusiasm at the suggestion, no one made mention of it. Perhaps his reaction was lost in the flurry of activity as the table was cleared and Alan was escorted upstairs for his bath. Virgil did notice an odd expression cross Scott’s face as he watched Gordon begin loading dirty cutlery into the dishwasher, but he said nothing before leaving the kitchen. John and Scott had helped cook dinner, so Virgil and Gordon were left to load the dishwasher and tidy the kitchen. “Gordon?” Virgil caught his little brother’s attention with a gentle flick of a tea towel, and a sullen expression was his reply. “Don’t you want to go to the pool tomorrow?” Gordon shrugged. Virgil kept his voice low, not wanting anyone to hear the conversation. “You always get excited about going to the pool. You’ve been begging Mom to take us every day for the entire summer. People will ask questions if you suddenly don’t want to go.” The look in Gordon’s eyes was a complicated mixture of fear, sadness, and uncertainty that had Virgil once again wanting to do anything he could to take away the pain. He was about to say something more when he heard John’s voice carry through from the living room and thought better of it. The discussion wasn’t over, but it would have to wait. The rest of their kitchen duty was completed in awkward silence. Chores done, they headed upstairs, back to their blanket fort. They had barely begun to settle into the pile of pillows and cushions when a small hand, followed by a headful of slightly damp blond hair, poked through from beneath a blanket wall. Bright blue eyes sparkled as a giggle escaped through a cheeky grin. “Peek-a-boo!” Alan exclaimed and wriggled his way into the enclosure. “Alan!?” Lucy parted the fort’s entrance with her arms so the blankets draped like a stage curtain. As her eyes came to rest on her littlest, a wave of relief was reflected in her fond smile. “Say good night to your brothers and I’ll read you a story.” Liberal good-night cuddles were dished out to both big brothers before Lucy ushered Alan out so she could bundle him into bed. “You two – shower or bath, teeth brushing – go!” she instructed. By the time Virgil and Gordon had washed and brushed and were attired for bed (again in Gordon’s case), Alan was asleep, the bedroom was illuminated only by Alan’s star projecting night light, and their mom was holding her finger up to her lips. “Shh. Try not to wake your little brother,” she whispered. She gave each of them a hug and a kiss on the forehead. “Don’t stay up all night!” Virgil and Gordon were soon alone and comfortably secure in their plush fortress. Their flashlights had been propped between pillows and furniture so they provided a soft glow amid the cosy gloom. “Talk to me, Fish,” Virgil said softly. “You’ve been so quiet since dinner. Are you feeling okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine.” Gordon’s slumped posture added to Virgil’s impression that his brother looked pretty miserable. “It’s just . . .” A huge sigh escaped his tiny frame. “You’re worried about tomorrow?” Virgil finished for him. “Do you think I could tell Mom I have to do some reading for school or something?” Virgil’s eyes widened and his heart dropped into his stomach. His little brother might not be physically sick or injured, but he was not okay. “You know that’s not gonna work, Gordon. You’ve been pestering her all summer to take you to the pool. If you suddenly don’t want to go, she’s going to be super suspicious. And nobody will believe that you would ditch the pool in favour of schoolwork. Especially in summer!” “I know.” Another sigh. A long silence. “It’s just, when Mom said we’d all go to the pool tomorrow I . . . Normally I’d be really excited, but this time I kind of got scared.” “What are you scared of?” Gordon thought Virgil’s question was a pretty stupid one considering what had happened at the lake, and his scowling glare communicated as much. “I mean, what exactly scares you about going to the pool? Are you afraid you might get into trouble like you did in the lake?” Gordon’s expression turned more quizzical as he considered what Virgil was trying to say. “Because the pool is going to be very different from the lake. The water is clear. You can always see the bottom. The temperature is controlled and kept fairly warm. There’s a lifeguard on duty all the time keeping everyone safe, and we’ll all be there with you. You won’t be on your own, far from shore.” “I guess.” “Gordon, you love the water. You always have, even when you were tiny. You’re always happiest when you’re in the water – even if it’s just the bath or splashing in puddles.” “Not anymore.” “You have to get back on the horse,” Virgil said absently, almost to himself. “What? What horse? What does that have to do with the pool?” “It’s a figure of speech. Something Grandpa says. If you fall off the horse, you’ve gotta get right back on. You can’t let one bad experience make you scared forever, and the sooner you get back up on the horse after falling, the easier it is to ride again.” Gordon looked uncertain. “So, you’re saying that I have to go to the pool tomorrow and get back in the water or else I might be scared of swimming forever?” “I’m saying you have to go to the pool tomorrow because swimming makes you happy. You’re good at it, and you can’t let today stop you from doing something that makes you light up like Fourth of July fireworks and grin like the Cheshire Cat.” There was another long silence. Gordon scooted a little closer to his big brother and rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder. “Will you stay with me tomorrow? At the pool?” Virgil wriggled his arm under his brother and tugged him closer. “For as long as you need me to,” he affirmed. “We’ll start off in the shallow end. Mess around for a while, just getting wet, splashing about. Pretty soon you’ll be swimming like a fish and I won’t be able to keep up. But I promise I’ll stay close and watch out for you, okay?” “Okay.” Despite how tired he sounded, there was a brightness to Gordon’s voice that caused a wave of relief to sweep over Virgil. The day’s exploits had exhausted the two boys. Their little nest was cosy and warm, and the close contact between them helped relax them both as they quickly drifted off to sleep. But Virgil’s usually sound sleep was disturbed by unpleasant dreams. Twice he woke suddenly, heart pounding and breathing hard, certain that something terrible had happened and with an unshakable need to check on Gordon, only to find him safely asleep beside him. He lay awake after each nightmare, watching the even rise and fall of his brother’s chest, noticing every little twitch and murmur made as he slept. He had a feeling it would be a while before he could completely shake these nightmares, but it was comforting to think that Gordon had been spared the same kind of disruption through the night.

*** Morning dawned bright and warm, and despite the duvet cover preventing much sunlight penetrating the sanctuary of the fort, Gordon was awake with the dawn chorus. He tried to let his brother sleep, happy to listen to the soft snores and try not to giggle, but he quickly became impatient. Virgil woke to gentle but insistent poking to the ribs and the repeated whispering of his name. When he peeled his eyes open, he was greeted with brown eyes mere inches in front of his own and a beaming smile. “We’re going to the pool today, Virgil,” Gordon whispered with a hint of excitement. “You have to get up.” “Okay, okay,” Virgil managed to somewhat grunt as he sat up, rubbing his eyes. Then he registered the expression on his little brother’s face, the gleam in the eyes and the fact that the smile still hadn’t faltered, and a smile of his own spread from the depths of his heart and across his face. The mixture of nerves and eagerness thrumming through Gordon all morning was enough to give the rest of the family the impression he was full of barely contained excitement fitting for the day of a visit to the pool. He repeatedly asked when they would be leaving and was repeatedly told they would head out after lunch. He offered to pack everyone’s towels and Alan’s floaties into a bag ready for later, and he fidgeted and bounced his way through to lunchtime. After lunch, as promised, Lucy piled all the boys into the family car and drove them to the public pool. She paid their admission, and they all tumbled through the turnstile. As usual, Scott, who had never grown out of wanting to go everywhere at top speed, and Gordon raced away to find them a spot on the grass where bags and towels could be unceremoniously dumped before they hit the water. By the time Virgil and John joined them, T-shirts had already been discarded and comments about the fate of the last person into the water were being bandied about. When Lucy was finally able to set down her load of Alan and the bagful of necessities required for their day out, her four oldest boys were already racing towards the Olympic-sized pool. Scott first, John not far behind, and Gordon practically dragging Virgil by the hand.

Lucy kept an eye on her boys happily splashing about with each other in the shallow end of the pool while she got herself and Alan stripped down to their bathing suits and slid Alan’s floaties on over his head and arms. They had started a game of Chicken Fight by the time she slid herself into the water and lifted Alan down into her arms. John, sitting on Scott’s shoulders and Gordon atop Virgil’s, were locked in grappling combat. Scott and John had the advantage of both height and reach, and it was not long before Gordon toppled into the water. A rematch produced the same result in short order, and Gordon exacted revenge by distracting Scott with an underwater pantsing, causing him to break his hold on John, who overbalanced and slid from Scott’s shoulders into the pool. Lucy and Alan laughed along with the others as Scott protested foul play. Handstand competitions and a game of Freeze Tag followed. Lucy took Alan to the toddler pool where he could splash about more freely, instructing the older boys to behave and try not to bother other pool users too much while she was gone. Virgil was pleased to see that, just as he’d predicted, Gordon was happily swimming rings around them all as they played. He’d stuck close to Virgil at first, but after the Chicken Fights, he was swimming farther and faster in his efforts to escape being tagged and spending longer underwater with every passing minute. It seemed he had slipped right back into his home environment without any lasting dramas. As the afternoon shadows grew long, one by one Lucy’s boys returned to their spot on the grass. She and Alan had grown tired of the water first, and Alan had even had a short sleep amongst the pile of towels as they waited for the others to tire themselves out. Scott was first of the older boys to tire of swimming and return to towel off and dress in dry clothes, with John quick to follow. Lucy was a little surprised at how long Virgil lasted in the water until she spotted him sitting on the edge of the pool with just his feet and lower legs in the water watching Gordon as he shot back and forth across the free-play area, dodging strangers. She gave a shrill two-finger whistle. Virgil, recognising the signal, turned his head to look back at her, and she beckoned with her hand to indicate it was time to go. It seemed to take a while to convince Gordon to get out of the pool, but Lucy was not surprised. The car ride home was a fairly quiet one, the boys having spent a great deal of energy over the course of the afternoon. They brightened at the suggestion of ordering pizza for dinner when they got home, and there was a brief buzz of conversation when she mentioned their father would be home by the weekend. He had only been away for two weeks, but the older boys had never really grown out of getting excited by his return. This latest trip wasn’t as far away as Mars or even the moon, but the prospect of having Dad home again still triggered that same feeling of welcoming someone who had been long absent. He may not visit space for work any longer, and his absences could be measured in days instead of months or years, but it was always great to have him home again. “He already has big plans for this year’s Last Day of Summer,” Lucy mentioned with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “It’s only ten days away now!” While Scott and John speculated on what their dad might have in store for the annual family day at the lake on the last weekend before they went back to school, Virgil felt a small hand slip inside his and squeeze. He looked to his left at Gordon staring silently out the car window and gave a slight hand squeeze of his own in reply. While today had helped, it was obvious his little brother was still harbouring some fear of returning to the lake. There was no chance for Virgil to talk one-on-one with Gordon when they got home from the pool. As was fairly normal in the Tracy household, there always seemed to be someone else around or something that needed doing, and before he knew it, Gordon was already tucked in bed and reading a bedtime story with Mom. Virgil took a little longer than normal in the shower, needing the time alone with his thoughts. If Gordon acted anything less than excited about going to the lake for Last Day of Summer, it wouldn’t be long before their little secret would come to light. He had to find a way to get Gordon’s confidence back, but he was starting to wonder if he could manage on his own. With something like this, he would normally talk things out with Scott. It felt wrong to be hiding something from him and even more wrong to be hiding things from Mom. He was beginning to wonder whether he should just let the cat out of the bag and tell the truth, but he really didn’t want to let his little brother down either. Unable to face revealing how close he’d come to letting his brother drown, Virgil ended up avoiding any chance of conversation for the evening and shut himself away in his room until it was time for bed. John was in and out of the shared bedroom as he began preparing to turn in for the night, but it was not unusual for the two of them to quietly do their own thing without really exchanging words. When Lucy popped her head inside the door to check on her two quietest boys and say good night, Virgil tried his best to act like everything was normal. Her gaze fell heavily on him for a moment, and he had to fight the urge to tell her everything about the day at the lake and ask her advice. “Don’t stay up too late, boys,” she playfully warned them. “Lights out by 9:30 please, Virgil, and John, no more stargazing after lights out!” “Okay, Mom,” they both answered automatically and in chorus. “Good night.” It took a while for Virgil to fall asleep that night, mind whirling with the thought of his little brother being afraid of something that had always been a source of such joy. There had to be a way to fix it – every problem had a solution, you just had to find it, that’s what Dad would say. As tired as he was, his mind kept trying to focus on finding that solution before drifting away into a sleepy fog. Gordon didn’t know exactly what time it was, but he knew it was very late. The house was quiet. The room wasn’t dark – Alan’s night-light saw to that – but he couldn’t hear any voices, any indication of anyone moving around downstairs or in the bathrooms and bedrooms. Everyone must be asleep. He had startled awake, sitting bolt upright, breathless, heart pounding, eyes prickling with oncoming tears and really wishing he wasn’t so alone. He’d been dreaming about the lake, and now he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Slipping silently from his bed, he tiptoed across the floor, careful not to disturb Alan, and crept out into the hall. He hesitated for a moment. Normally he would head for his parents’ room, but Mom would ask what the dream was about, and he didn’t want to tell her about swimming in the lake. He didn’t want to get in trouble – or get Virgil into trouble. Gordon changed direction and headed for Virgil’s and John’s room. Being very careful to open the door without a sound and close it just as silently behind him, Gordon stood in the pitch-dark bedroom for a moment and let his eyes adjust. He couldn’t understand why his bigger brothers liked it so dark, he found it a bit creepy, but he couldn’t turn on the light and risk waking John. It wasn’t long before he could make out the shape of Virgil’s bed amongst the gloom, and he stealthily padded across the carpet to stand beside his sleeping brother. Now that he was here, he wasn’t really sure how to wake him or whether he should. He stood twisting the fingers of both hands around each other, close to tears again. “Virgil?” he whispered, barely above a breath. No response. “Virge?” This time a little louder, a little more desperate, a little more whiney and accompanied by a sniff. He tried tapping Virgil’s shoulder a few times, but his brother didn’t budge from where he lay curled on his side, facing the wall. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Gordon climbed across the bottom of the bed and squeezed his way past Virgil’s knees, wriggled himself under the covers and Virgil’s arm, and curled himself into the space between his brother and the wall. It was around three a.m. when Virgil woke to find he wasn’t alone in the bed. He didn’t know how or when Gordon had come to be there, but he could hear him softly whimpering and feel him shaking with the occasional sob. “Gordon,” he whispered softly, “are you okay?” He tugged his brother a little tighter to him, feeling him struggle to get the sobbing under control and even out his breathing. “Had a bad dream,” came the ever-so-quiet response. Virgil eased his grip and shuffled over on the bed, allowing Gordon to roll over and face him, but he kept his hand resting against his brother’s back. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the quiet darkness seemed both comforting and ominous at the same time. Gordon heaved a deep breath in and let it out in a sigh before breaking the silence. He kept his voice low, but once he started, the words tumbled out in a torrent. “I can’t go back to the lake for Last Day of Summer, Virgil. I don’t want to go back in the water and everyone will know that’s not normal and want to know why and I don’t want them to know what I did and –” “Shh,” Virgil soothed, rubbing Gordon’s back as he spoke. “We’ll work something out together. I promise.” “You mean so we don’t have to go?” “No, I mean so you won’t be afraid anymore. We have to go. It’s tradition. And I think we both have to go back to the lake and confront our fears.” “You’re scared too? Wait, what are you scared of?” It was Virgil’s turn to let out a sigh. “Gordon, as annoying as you sometimes are, you are my little brother, and if anything happened to you – anything really bad, I mean – I’d be . . .” Another sigh. “I just don’t want anything bad to happen to you. And I guess I’m scared of what might have happened. I keep having bad dreams where I couldn’t save you.” Gordon was suddenly wrapped around him like an octopus, his skinny little arms squeezing tight around Virgil like he was never going to let go and legs twining their way between bedding and body to latch on too. Despite feeling a little bit trapped within the many-limbed embrace, Virgil felt oddly comforted by it. “You don’t have to hold so tight, little octopus. I’m not going anywhere,” Virgil whispered into blond hair. “I’m not an octopus,” came the muffled reply, buried somewhere in Virgil’s neck, “I’m a squid.” “Okay then, Squid. How about we try and get some sleep and work this out tomorrow?” Gordon’s hold on his brother relaxed enough for them both to get a little more comfortable in the bed, but it was clear he wasn’t letting go. Virgil managed to get one arm disentangled enough to trace his hand back and forth across Gordon’s back, helping to lull him to sleep. Slumber quickly claimed the older brother soon after.

*** Morning crept up on them, dawning overcast and gloomy, despite being summer warm. As a result, Gordon slept later than he normally would and was woken by John’s quiet movements as he rolled out of the bed on the other side of the room and shuffled towards the bathroom. If John noticed the interloper in Virgil’s bed, he didn’t say anything, so Gordon took the opportunity to unceremoniously climb over his brother and hightail it back to his own room. Virgil woke with a start after yet another nightmare. Sitting up and trying to reacquaint himself with reality, he realised Gordon was no longer with him, and his heart rate ratcheted up a few more notches in brief panic. Catching sight of the clock and taking a few slow, deep breaths, Virgil managed to convince himself that everything was fine, Gordon had obviously just woken up earlier and was more than likely perfectly okay. But he needed to check. He tumbled out of bed and, after a brief detour to the bathroom, stumbled his way down the corridor in search of Gordon. Finding the tiny two’s bedroom deserted, he headed downstairs and found his target in the living room. Virgil stood in the doorway watching Gordon playing with Alan for a few minutes. Seeing his goofball brother being his normal, animated self and hearing the shrieks and giggles his antics prompted from Alan were enough to reassure him that yes, Gordon was just fine. Sometime after Virgil had found himself some breakfast and begun to consider himself properly awake, John found him sitting at the piano, absently staring out the window. John didn’t recall hearing Virgil play any practice exercises, and Virgil’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, so John concluded that he was there more for the familiarity than the urge to play music. He did this sometimes – sat there just thinking, wheels turning, gears shifting, working something out in his head – and John always found it interesting to watch the thought process play out through Virgil’s expressions. But the expression wasn’t changing. “Virgil?” John prompted with some concern. “You okay?” With a jolt, Virgil tore his eyes away from the view he wasn’t really seeing out the window and focussed them on John. “Yeah.” Virgil sighed. “I just have something I need to do, something that needs fixing, and I don’t know how to do it.” “Look it up,” John answered with a shrug. “That’s what I’d do. There’s probably a book about it somewhere or a repair manual or instructional video. If I want to know how something works or how to do something, I start with research.” With that, John walked away, leaving Virgil to ponder how to research fixing a fear of swimming in a lake. And then it hit him. Research was the answer, he just had to look up the right thing – not how to fix the fear, but all the things there were to be afraid of. The more information you know about the thing you’re afraid of, the less scary it becomes. So, all he had to do was look up everything that could cause someone to get into trouble swimming in a lake – and maybe rivers, streams, and oceans too – and learn everything about them. If he knew how to spot the dangers or how to prevent them and how to get out of trouble, then maybe Gordon wouldn’t be afraid anymore. Virgil set off at a run to go and find Gordon. At first, Gordon wasn’t sure about this idea of Virgil’s. Sitting in front of a holoscreen looking up information sounded a lot like homework. But Virgil was insistent that they at least give it a try. After all, it couldn’t hurt to know more about different waterways. “Okay, so where do we start?” Gordon asked as they settled themselves at the big desk in the corner of the living room. “Well, what scares you most when you think about going swimming in the lake?” “Getting another cramp.” Gordon’s reply was quiet, and suddenly Virgil hated himself for making his little brother revisit that moment when everything had gone wrong. He put his hand on Gordon’s shoulder and offered a reassuring squeeze. “Then let’s start there. We can find out what causes cramps when you swim and learn how to prevent them or how to manage them.” Virgil found a great deal of information on muscle cramps related to swimmers, which he quickly became quite absorbed in. He had to remind himself to stick to the sites with simple wording and steer clear of the ones that crossed too far into medical jargon territory. The boys learned the importance of warming up before swimming, being careful not to overexert the muscles, and staying hydrated. They also found that cold water could increase the chance of cramping. Virgil physically shivered at the memory of plunging his arm into deceptively cold water to grab at one of the only parts of his little brother he could still see. They researched swimming in cold water, what caused cold spots in lakes and rivers and whether you could spot them, and ways you could avoid them or deal with them. They learned about different types of currents – ones you could see, and ones you wouldn’t know about until you felt them. Submerged objects, reeds and seaweed, rocks and tree roots . . . “What are you guys doing?” Scott startled them so badly Virgil jumped and Gordon squeaked. “Researching water safety.” Virgil decided honesty was the best way to go . . . to a point. “It’s for Rescue Scouts.” “But we don’t go back to Rescue Scouts until a week after school goes back.” Scott eyed both brothers suspiciously. “We know, but there’s no harm in getting in early, and Gordon really wants his Water Safety badge.” Virgil had to resist the urge to squirm under the scrutiny of his big brother’s gaze as Scott remained silent for what seemed like a whole minute. “Well, it’s time for lunch,” Scott finally said before turning his back on them and heading for the kitchen. Gordon grinned up at Virgil, who huffed out a long exhale in relief. He didn’t think Scott completely believed the Rescue Scout story, but it seemed as though they would be able to continue their research unquestioned. In fact, no one questioned the time these two spent together in snatches of an hour or two here and there over a couple of days, continuing to search out information on the best ways to stay safe in just about any body of water. Gordon had even made a scrapbook of notes and pictures so he could keep track of all the things they’d learned. Excuses aside, when Rescue Scouts resumed after the summer break, Gordon would already be well on his way to earning his Water Safety badge in earnest. As promised, Jeff was back home by the time the boys awoke on Saturday morning, and he began dropping hints about his plans for the best Last Day of Summer yet. It was to be bigger and better than ever before because, for the first time since they began making the end-of-summer vacation a celebration, it coincided with Virgil’s birthday. The first hints encouraged the boys to check their tents and sleeping bags. It wouldn’t just be a day out with a picnic lunch this year, it would be an overnight campout. There was a promise of campfire tales and s’mores and a special surprise that required the night sky as a backdrop. There were hints about guests that prompted a whole day of guessing who might be joining them at the lake. Grandma and Grandpa were the first confirmed additions to the guest list, along with “Uncle” Lee and a mysterious extra guest from England and his daughter, who was apparently around Virgil’s and John’s age. Amidst all the building excitement about the big event at the end of the week, signs of Gordon’s nervousness about returning to the lake were easily missed by the rest of the family. Only Virgil saw the signs – the slight frown at Scott’s mention that they’d all need to remember to bring their swimmers and towels, the look of horror at John wondering if he’d see more stars if he rowed out into the lake after dark. Virgil decided he’d have to take Gordon back to the lake before the weekend. They needed to return to the scene of the crime. Gordon, having come to much the same conclusion in his own way, approached Virgil after breakfast on the Wednesday. The day was clear and bright, much like it had been on the morning of that fateful day little more than a week before. It seemed like a good day to go back and face the monster that the lake had become. “Virgil,” Gordon said quietly, despite there being no one else in the living room at the time, “can we go back to the lake today? Can you take me?” “Today seems like a good day to me,” Virgil answered with a gentle smile. “We’ll have to tell Dad we’re going out for most of the day.” Now that Jeff was back from his trip and working from the home office, Lucy was spending more time at work. The boys were expected to look after each other and only interrupt their father if it was important, but Jeff would check up on them all throughout the day. “Do we have to say where we’re going?” Gordon twined his fingertips around each other, raising his eyes to meet Virgil’s from a head trying to look down at the floor. “We’ll tell him we’re going back to the place we visited last week to finish the drawing,” Virgil suggested. “It’s not exactly a lie. We are going back to the same place.” The knock on Jeff’s office door was tentative but loud enough that he heard it over the voice of the colleague on the other end of the video call. He muted his audio to tell his visitor to wait a moment before unmuting and bringing the phone conversation to a conclusion. “Come in,” he finally called towards the closed door. He was a little surprised by the request for this particular pair to spend a day out together on their own, but he remembered Lucy mentioning something about these two having been out on the top track the week before. He gave them permission to go provided they tell Scott and John where they were going and promise to be back by five. “Take something to eat and plenty of water, Virgil,” he reminded the older boy, “and look after your brother.” “I will, Dad.” Virgil gave a solemn nod, and the two boys slipped back out of the office, closing the door behind them. Bag packed with sandwiches and water bottles, art supplies for the sake of appearances, and towels, the boys were soon striding out across the paddock towards the top track. This time there were no lingering looks at the scenery as they walked – the birds, spiders, and bugs were largely ignored. Unlike the last time they had set out together, Virgil had no desire to hurry, and he let his younger brother set the pace. He noted with a small amount of pride the purposeful strides, the determination in the set of squared shoulders, and the fire in amber eyes as Gordon focused his energy on reaching their destination so he could do what needed to be done. Gordon’s determined march stuttered to a somewhat abrupt halt when they rounded the last curve and stepped onto the silty sand of the lake’s beach. With his eyes fixed on the water, shoulders drooping, it seemed Gordon’s fire had died. Without a word, Virgil placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, the simple gesture having the desired effect – lending the younger boy enough resolve to steel himself once again, lengthen his spine, and straighten his shoulders. Virgil steered them over to a patch of sand where he could spread out a towel for them to sit on. Shoes were shed in preparation for the inevitable trip to the water’s edge, but the boys remained seated. “What do you see out there?” Virgil asked. “It’s the same. Calm. Flat. But it’s different from last time too.” Virgil waited for a moment before trying again, wanting Gordon to see past the feeling of fear. “Remember what we learned about studying the ripples?” he prompted. “Is it really flat and calm?” There was silence as Gordon’s gaze focused intently on the expanse of blue stretching before them. The embers of the fire that had previously lit his eyes seemed to ignite anew as he studied the surface, looking for telltale signs. “There are reeds just under the surface over there,” he said, pointing a little to their left, “and the ripples over here are different to that bit farther out where it looks really smooth.” Virgil could see Gordon’s confidence growing as he gestured to various parts of the lake, telling his big brother what the differences in the rippled and smooth areas were likely to mean in terms of what was going on beneath the surface. Pretty soon they were on their feet and striding into the shallows to test the waters. Gordon entered the water at a slow walk, which Virgil thought was through caution or trepidation at first, but then Gordon gently trailed fingertips through the reeds and beckoned his big brother over. “Virgil, come look,” he called, looking up at him with a grin. “There are fish that feed in the reeds.” The next half hour was spent following Gordon through the shallows exploring the aquatic life found therein. As the younger boy got more caught up in watching the fish, finding different types of reeds, discovering eels, and excitedly pondering all manner of life in the depths of the lake, they wandered deeper into the water. Virgil followed and listened, answering questions as best he could when asked, smiling fondly all the while. The Squid was in his element. “Hey Gordon,” Virgil said as he playfully splashed a well-aimed hand scoop of water into the side of his little brother’s head. “You realise you’re getting your shirt wet, right?” Gordon looked down at the water that was now up to the middle of his chest and back up at his brother with a grin. “Oops.” They briefly returned to the little beach, shed their shirts, and laid them down in the sun to dry. “You know, when we come back this weekend, we’ll mostly be swimming out here where we just were.” Virgil nodded his head back towards the little patch of lake they’d just explored. “We could go a little deeper, actually lift our feet off the bottom and swim for a while. This is the only part of the lake any of us have ever really swum in before.” Gordon’s eyes sparkled with light reflecting off the water as he pondered Virgil’s words for a moment. Mom and Dad had always suggested the boys shouldn’t swim out past where they could touch the bottom and definitely never past the end of the wooden pier. Looking at the pier and the dinghy tied securely to its mooring drew his eye to the rock island beyond, tantalisingly close, yet so terrifyingly far. Virgil watched his squid brother scanning the water, casting his gaze over the safe and familiar. He saw the moment the line was crossed and thoughts turned to the challenge just that little farther afield. Once again, he placed a hand on Gordon’s shoulder, hoping to redirect his thoughts. “Why don’t we just go back in, swim around for a while, have some fun where we know it’s safe?” “Yeah, okay,” Gordon agreed, a little half-heartedly. Virgil took his brother by the hand, and by the time they’d taken two steps, they were running towards the water. He only let go once they were in deep enough that a tug of the hand lifted Gordon’s feet off the bottom and propelled him a short distance through the water. He received a splash to the face for his efforts, but his little brother was smiling and treading water. In no time at all, Gordon was literally swimming rings around his big brother, splashing at him and darting away, taunting him, daring him to swim after him. It was hunger that drove them out of the water and back onto the dry sand sometime later. PB&J sandwiches were retrieved from the backpack and devoured. The late summer sun warmed their shoulders as they sat in content silence, listening to the lapping of the water and the cries of the birds. Virgil would have been happy to remain there soaking it all in, but Gordon soon became restless, his gaze drifting back to where water birds were drying their outstretched wings. “Virgil, I wanna swim to the rock.” The fire was back in Gordon’s eyes. Virgil studied him for a moment, seeing that same determination that had driven the march to the lake. He wasn’t asking for permission, he was making a statement. It was what he’d come here to do – the demon he needed to conquer. Virgil wasn’t feeling anywhere near as courageous as his little brother looked at that moment. “Gordon . . .” “I need to do it, Virgil.” He turned his head, those glowing embers burning straight into his big brother’s wide brown eyes. “But I need you.” “I can’t . . .” “Use the boat. I’ll swim, you row. If I get into trouble, you’ll be right there.” Virgil had to look away. The intensity in those eyes, the body language, the strength of will in his little brother were too much. But it was the faith Gordon was placing in him that was twisting his gut. He caught sight of the rock island, out there beyond the boat docked at the pier. He was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat thumping just a little too hard and a little too fast. Gordon needed this – needed him to do this with him. He couldn’t let the Squid down. “Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. He had expected a look of triumph, a smile, a victory dance . . . something. Anything but the simple nod and determined knitting of Gordon’s brow that he received in reply. The younger boy then grabbed his water bottle and took a long draught. “Staying hydrated helps stop you getting cramps, right?” Gordon asked. Virgil nodded. “And I should do some warmup stretches before I swim out there.” “Right again.” Virgil was gladdened by the amount of thought and preparation Gordon was putting into the task ahead of him this time. “And you’ll stay close in the boat?” There it was, the uncertainty just below that confident façade. “Right beside you all the way, little brother.” Virgil tried to school his expression into one of reassurance, but he wasn’t sure he managed it. They made their way across the sand and onto the wooden planks of the pier, then stood studying the expanse of water for a moment, watching the ripples and trying to read currents. Looking for dangers. At last Virgil could put it off no longer. Gordon was warmed up and ready to go, they had assessed the risks and had plans in mind for just about any eventuality. It was time to untie the boat and take up the oars. Sitting in the gently rocking dinghy, Virgil had to take a moment to close his eyes and concentrate on a few deep breaths to quell the hammering in his ribcage before looking back up at Gordon and giving a nod. He was as ready as he’d ever be. This time when Gordon dived in, he began his swim with a measured pace rather than a burst of speed that he wouldn’t be able to maintain. Virgil didn’t have to work too hard on the oar strokes to keep up with him. Not far out there was a brief moment of panic when Gordon suddenly stopped his forward momentum and started treading water. An odd expression furrowed his brow, then he ducked his head under the water. Dropping the oars and preparing to make a grab for his brother, Virgil was sure his heart stopped beating altogether for a second before the blond head re-emerged above the surface. Seeing the panic in his big brother’s eyes, Gordon grinned and held up the weed he’d just untangled from his leg. “It’s okay, Virge, no cramps, just waterweed.” And with that, he resumed his swim with a flurry of swift kicks and smooth strokes. By the time Virgil could regather the oars – and his wits – his little brother was ten meters ahead of him. It took only a few strong pulls on the oars to catch up again, but Virgil knew his pulse rate was not going to climb down out of the stratosphere until they were both on dry land. It felt like an eternity, but in reality, it was only a few minutes before Gordon was able to lay his hands on the slippery surface of the rock. Finding a decent hold, he clambered up far enough to sit on a crag, feet still in the water, triumphant grin lighting up his features, water droplets catching the sunlight, causing his hair and skin to glisten as he caught his breath. “I knew I could do it!” he panted as Virgil drew the dinghy close beside him. “I never doubted you, Squiddo,” Virgil agreed, practically beaming with pride at his brother’s achievement. “Now, are you gonna swim back? Or do you want a lift?” Gordon’s eyes widened in surprise. He hadn’t really thought about the return trip. Virgil chuckled. “Um, I think maybe I’ll just come back with you in the boat.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, dragging it back from where it was dripping into his eyes. “No problem, Fish. You’ve proved enough for one day.” With a bit of manoeuvring, jostling, and boat rocking, Gordon was able to climb into the dinghy and settle himself into the seat at the prow. To him, the journey back to the dock seemed to take no time at all. Virgil’s strong, steady strokes with the oars propelled them quickly and smoothly through the water as though it took no effort at all. He jumped out of the boat and onto the pier before Virgil had even finished drawing the oars into the boat, then waited for Virgil to climb out and secure the mooring. “Virgil?” It was all the warning the older boy got as he turned to face his little brother, who closed the space between them at a run and launched himself into what became a squid hug, arms and legs tightly wrapped around Virgil’s torso. It took Virgil a couple of backward steps before he could steady himself under the sudden additional weight. “Thank you. You are the best big brother.” Virgil returned the embrace, allowing a chuckle to escape as he rested his head against damp hair. “You are a pretty amazing little brother, Squid.”

*** The Last Day of Summer celebration, and Virgil’s twelfth birthday turned out to be a fantastic, fun-filled event for all involved. Nothing could hold Gordon back from spending as much time as possible in the water, and so no one knew there had ever been a problem. The nightmares had run their course too. Summer vacation came to an end, and with the start of the school term, life returned to normal. A few weeks later a chance meeting at school pickup resulted in a few puzzle pieces slotting into place for Lucy. Gordon’s class teacher spotted Lucy waiting in the Kiss & Drop zone and made a passing comment about his wonderful piece of creative writing for the obligatory “What I Did Over Summer” assignment. When they got home, with the boys all occupied with snacks or homework and various afterschool activities, Lucy dug out Gordon’s writing workbook and found the story in question titled “My Summer Vacation,” with a large A+ written in red at the top of the page. My Summer Vacation I did lots of things in summer with my big brothers and we had lots of fun but there was one scary day. I went swimming in the lake when I wasn’t supposed to and I nearly drowned but my brother was there and he saved me. After that I was scared to go swimming, but he told me it would make him sad if I didn’t swim anymore because he says swimming makes me happy. We looked up all the ways you can get into trouble swimming in lakes and rivers and oceans. We found out all the ways you can look for dangers and get out of trouble in the water and how to be safe. Now I’m not scared to go swimming anymore. Well, that explained a great deal. Lucy smiled to herself and shook her head a little. She would have words with Virgil about the kind of secrets that needed to be shared with an adult, but she was struck once again by how amazing her boys could be and just how far they would go for one another.

***

#thunderbirds are go #thunderfam #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds fanart #katblu42 #kidthunder's art #tag mini bang 2021

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emjayewrites · 4 years

Text

The Masterlist by EmjayeWrites

*PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT ON MY FANFICTION IF YOU ARE ON THE TAG LIST*

Fire & Desire

Synopsis: Since his professional acting debut not too long ago, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II has been making a name for himself in the entertainment industry. Now with yet another role under his belt and in the midst of a press tour for the HBO Limited Series Watchmen, Yahya is looking for some R&R before his already hectic filming schedule picks back up again. Safe to say, what he had in mind was kicking it with the fam, but he’s somehow blessed to get that special one-on-one time with Sports Illustrated model and influencer, Zia Raine. What started as casual flirting via Instagram DM, a delightful tryst soon emerges and both Yahya and Zia quickly find themselves in a FWB dilemma.

1 /

Beyond The Lights

Synopsis: Twenty-four-year-old R&B singer/songwriter, Mahalia-Joy Watkins, professionally known as EmJaye, is on the rise to superstardom. After winning a Grammy for Best New Artist, she is finally getting the recognition she deserves from media outlets and raving fans. Despite her newfound fame, EmJaye is anything but a superstar, as she still is the same quirky albeit introverted young woman from West Philadelphia. With the pressures of success and dealing with other emotional turmoils, EmJaye has no choice but to put up a wall in hopes of protecting not only her mental health, but her heart as well. In the midst of recording her debut album, handling invasive paparazzi, dealing with greedy family members, and continuing to grieve the loss of her mother, EmJaye is thoroughly surprised when actor Yahya Abdul-Mateen II strolls into her already hectic life. Soon, the actor and songstress delve into a close friendship, indulging one another in their most sacred secrets. From their journey as friends, a burgeoning romance begins, leaving them both unable to decide whether they should take a chance on love or go their separate ways.

Love At First Instagram Live

Synopsis: Since Germany went on lockdown, you’ve been feeling a bit down and decided to prioritize self-care. When you are not working as a digital marketer, you spend your days reading, painting, or watching hours of movies/shows featuring your current celebrity crush, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II. To your surprise, you get a notification that he has started an Instagram live and ultimately take the plunge to request to join.

1 / 2 /

Deeper Than Us (Mini Series ft. Jonathan Majors)

Synopsis: With every shift of culture and the various changes of the 'typical' American family structure, there's always drawbacks as well as opinions. Acclaimed novelist and sex therapist, Danyelle Boyd-Sturgess is in the middle of yet another media hysteria: she’s in a very public vee relationship with actors Yahya Abdul-Mateen II and Jonathan Majors. From The Shade Room to Huffington Post, it seems as though the entire world has put her personal life under intensive examination. But to her, however, it’s just a new normalcy of being enveloped in love by two amazing men. Despite the side-eyes from strangers, internet trolls, and the intrusive press, Danyelle’s relationship with Yahya and Jonathan is as solid as concrete...or is it?

1 / 2 /

More Than Friends

Synopsis: Their journey from friends to lovers happened rather quickly, but when you are young and in college, anything could happen, even when you are least expecting it. Now, after years of being apart, is the spark still there or are they better off as friends?

1 /

One Shots/Drabbles:

A Lil’ PDA Never Hurt Nobody

Zaddy Shark

When We F&*%

Still Your Best

Excuse Me, Miss?

Gahdamn, Ma’am

F.U.C.K. (Friend You Can Keep)

One Date Is All It Takes

Masterpiece

Synopsis: After securing funding for the luxury watch collection, Basil Time Piece, actors Aldis and his brother, Edwin, obtains substantial success on their venture and soon develop a cult following for their creations. With more and more orders each passing week, Aldis ultimately decides to create a his and her watch design that features timeless gemstones from Italy. And, unfortunately for him, Aldis must collaborate with renowned gemologist and gemstone wholesaler Elodie Woods to complete the task. Having met Aldis a year ago at the International Horology Forum, the two share a mutual disdain for each other, but will the sheer romance of Rome influence Aldis and Elodie to forget the past or will it be too late to rectify?

1 |

Drabbles/One Shots:

Just Me & You

Island Tings

Synopsis: Your boyfriend of six months, actor John Boyega, is finally free from his busy schedule to take you on a week-long holiday to Jamaica. The two of you stay at a luxurious hotel, eat amazing food, and spend most of your days (and nights for that matter) humping each other like wild rabbits. It is a baecation, after all….

1/ 2 /

One Shots/Drabbles

The Red Bandit Strikes Again

Crescendo

Synopsis: The dangers of being the significant other of a mafia boss never ceases, for a sudden kidnapping or assassination plot lurks around every corner. Despite this, Nadia Lewis is unable to steer clear of the notorious leader of the Highlander Crime Syndicate. Florian Munteanu is a man of calibre — he leads the most ruthless Romanian crime gang in all of Western Europe and is a shrewd businessman with a lucrative chain of restaurants and night clubs in Germany. As their passion grows, the risk increases, but their love remains eternal and shatterproof, at least until the Crescendo.

Prologue | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

#Yahya Abdul Mateen II #aldis hodge #John Boyega #john david washington fanfiction #john boyega fanfiction #john david washington #jonathan majors #jonathan majors fanfiction #masterlist #story update #emjayewrites #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction

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ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years

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I've never met ANYONE who actually likes the Chibnall era. Would you seriously say that it's objectively good?

Brace yourself for unpopular (albeit positive) opinions.

Objectively? I don't know, I tend to feel like media is very much subjective and down to opinion. But on the whole...yeah. I'm gonna say yeah. I think the Chibnall era thus far is every bit as good as the Moffat Era and Davies Era were. It actually blows my mind to see the fandom come together and almost universally agree that the show has gone downhill. It's part of the reason why I kind of stepped away from the Doctor Who fandom because there's something very demoralizing about re-watching clips from Season 12 and seeing literally every comment just talk about how the show is ruined. And if I re-watch old clips, very often I come across comments that talk about how the show "used to" be good, and should have ended with Twelve, etc. I know a little reluctance toward the new Doctor can be part of the transition process, but normally the fans are over it by now.

Things haven't really changed.

I've been re-watching Twelve's era, and found a new appreciation for him. But I re-watched Thirteen's era right beforehand, and you know what? It holds up. Season 11 is remarkably strong. I can't think of a single "bad" episode in that season. It focuses on the characters, and thus it doesn't have nearly as strong ambitions, compared to one of the Moffat seasons, which were clever but often convoluted. They couldn't always stick the landing. (Looking at you, Season 6) But every has it's good parts and it's bad. The same man who wrote The Wedding of River Song and betrayed the entire season's storyline in the process...also wrote The Doctor Falls, which is probably my favorite final episode of any season ever. The Chibnall Era is the same way. The Tsuranga Conundrum isn't really a bad episode, it's just kind of forgettable, apart from the Pting. But then it is immediately followed up by Demons of the Punjab, which is an exceptional story in every way. I want the Thijurians to return for Thirteen's regeneration, I'm saying it.

My point being that even if there are episodes you can't stand in the new era, is that really exclusive to Chibnall? All the way back in Season 1, they had The Long Game, which I remember disliking, but it was sandwiched between Dalek and Father's Day, which are in my opinion, the two best episodes of that season. A lot of people don't like Orphan 55, for example. But it's followed up by Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror. Does anyone really dislike that episode? You're valid if you do, but I think it's really good. Ask me about any episode in the Chibnall Era, and I'll find something to like about it. (Except maybe Arachnids in the UK...and that one's not even bad, just kind of weak.) Because like I said, there is good and bad in every season...and I do think that the fandom has overblown how "bad" the Chibnall Era is...though that may be in part because I think this era is generally good? Incredible companions, solid episodes, a great Doctor, and hey...this era actually made the Daleks scary again. That is impressive. Even most of the hated episodes, like Orphan 55 as I mentioned...I enjoy them.

I stand by that. I think this era is great. If anything, I don't like that they reduced how many episodes we get, because some of these stories, like The Witchfinders and It Takes You Away especially Fugitive of The Judoon, are just begging to be two-parters. Spyfall is the only real two-parter we've had, in my opinion (Ascension of the Cybermen and The Timeless Children feel like two separate stories to me) and the episode was much stronger for having the extra time. If I have one genuine criticism with the Chibnall Era as a whole, it is the stark contrast between Seasons 11 and 12. I love Season 11, I thought it was beautiful. I like it far more than most people. I also truly enjoyed Season 12. But they are worlds apart, with Season 11 feeling so standalone and Season 12 picking up with a big storyline that really hadn't been hinted at all in the previous outing. The tone is also different, with The Doctor and "the fam" having a distance between them that seems to have developed offscreen in between seasons. It was as though Chibnall wanted to give everyone a breather from big overarching plots after the Moffat Era, but then after one season he decided "break's over" because he wanted to tell his story. And that's okay! It is. But it's jarring. Anyway, let's talk about Chibnall's storyline. You know where this is going.

"That" episode.

I meant what I said before. There isn't a single episode that I actively hate as much as say, Listen. Now let's get very controversial, because I know what y'all are thinking. "Not even The Timeless Children?" And I'll just get this out of the way right now: I don't think The Timeless Children, or it's twist, ruins Doctor Who. I don't think it gets anywhere close. I mentioned before that I was demoralized reading the comments on a clip of Doctor Who...to no one's surprise, it was this episode. Now, I may just be biased...after all, I didn't even hate Hell Bent. But while I have my criticisms of Season 12, The Doctor's revised backstory accounts for exactly none of them. You want to know what really bothers me? That we had a seven season buildup to Gallifrey's rescue, a nine season buildup to it's return...only for the show to do nothing with it, and then just destroy it again a couple of seasons later. As someone who loved The Day of The Doctor, I'm mad about that. Among other reasons, destroying Gallifrey is the kind of card you can really only play once.

So no, I don't think The Timeless Children is perfect. The Doctor had a seven season character arc culminating in them learning the lesson that using The Moment would be wrong, and that it was never okay to do something like that. To hear her even consider using The Death Particle, that "Or, a solution" line in response to Ryan appropriately reacting in horror? Yeah, that upset me. I don't like that Gallifrey is gone again, and even if The Doctor wasn't the one to do it, she almost did, and she left someone else to do it in her stead. That bothers me more than The Timeless Child ever could. That being said...the Timeless Child doesn't bother me. Seriously, it blows my mind that people act like this twist ruins Doctor Who. It...really doesn't, guys.

It does not insult the legacy of William Hartnell. He is still The First Doctor. It's not like there isn't a precedent for secret incarnations from The Doctor's past. We didn't start calling Christopher Eccleston The Tenth Doctor after we found out about John Hurt. Nothing can change The First Doctor's status or take it away, nor do I think Chibnall is trying. He is doing what I've actually wanted Doctor Who to do for a while. Give us a story about The Doctor's childhood. (Listen doesn't count, I don't care, that was all kinds of bad.) Let me ask you, what does this really change? I've seen people complain about the revision of The Doctor's history...but there's a precedent for that too. We could play bingo with how many times Clara fundamentally altered or influenced the show's history. She is the reason he started traveling, the reason he chose his Tardis, and the reason he saved Gallifrey. Why doesn't that bother people, if this does?

I also understand it if people dislike this change because they feel as though it makes The Doctor a kind of chosen one, compared to them having just been an average person who wanted to make a difference. I get that. However, this is down to interpretation, and there are so many ways to interpret The Doctor. Some people love it when The Doctor goes dark, other people cannot stand it and view it as out of character. Some people love it when The Doctor is heroic and badass, when they save the day...others would prefer that they take the backseat, teaching the humans how to save the day themselves. "The man who makes people better." And which interpretation you get, where it falls on the spectrum...it will vary from writer to writer. Moffat loved to make everything about The Doctor, and Davies frequently compared him to an angel or a god. This is not the first time that the show has portrayed The Doctor as a godlike being. It's not even close to the first time. And honestly? I don't think this makes The Doctor special or supernatural. I think it makes them a victim, nothing more. A victim of child abuse.

People also disliked this episode for removing the mystery behind The Doctor...but I fail to see how it did that? There are so. Many. Questions. That this finale opens up. Where did The Doctor come from? How and why did they get to our universe? What exactly is The Division? What went down between them and The Doctor? Where is Tecteun? (No, she's not Rassilon...) As the Masters asks, "What did they do to you, Doctor? How many lives have you had?" Amid all of the comments that made me sad, I did see a great one about how the original creator of Doctor Who actually didn't like it when they introduced the Timelords, because she felt that it boxed the show in and removed the mystery behind The Doctor, and how "She would have loved this episode." I agree with that. (Still salty that they destroyed Gallifrey though...) You know, I am genuinely interested in this story and where it's going to go, especially with the sixtieth anniversary approaching. But it depresses me that they might scale it back now, after how much the fandom has risen up against it. Not that I'm saying the fans shouldn't be happy, but...it's clear that a story is trying to be told here, and I think it should have that chance.

To each their own, of course. But I will never understand why this era is so hated.

#Doctor Who #Dr. Who #The Doctor #The Thirteenth Doctor #Chris Chibnall #Chibnall Era #Doctor Who Season 12 #Doctor Who Season 11 #Long post #Boy did this get long #Ramblings #The Timeless Children #The Timeless Child

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 3 years

Text

Everyone Secretly Wants You

Pairing: 13th Doctor x Reader

Word Count: 3,528

Warnings: None

Summary: The Doctor takes her fam to an art gallery, showcasing the work of Ava Centuria, her favourite artist of the 42nd century. However, she gets more than she bargained for when said artist takes a keen liking to you.

A/N: I know today has been... a lot. So here's something short and fluffy I wrote to take my mind off of things. Keep yourselves safe and surrounded by love my friends. All the best everyone and lots of love ❤️

“Well then,” Graham said. “Art galleries have certainly changed.”

You had to agree. It didn’t really look like any sort of art gallery you had ever seen before. There were people performing on stages, gallery goers were dressed in multi coloured neon robes, and food that changed shape on on the trays the waiters carried around. It looked like some sort of fancy festival, and you felt like any second you would see Billie Eilish casually stroll around beside you.

You loved it.

“It’s the 42nd century Graham!” The Doctor cried. She was hard to miss, she had replaced her coat with one that was a bright neon blue. “No one cares about stuffy rich people etiquette at these sort of things, it’s why Ava Centuria is so amazing! She completely reshaped societal norms, she made kooky mainstream.”

“Sounds like fun,” Yaz said encouragingly, and she was giving the Doctor a pair of thumbs up. It looked comical, her finger nails were each a different neon colour, and she wore a black suit with neon coloured stripes, reminding you of the kind of thing a school principal would wear to a carnival, except, well, neon.

As the five of you entered, you passed a towering banner that had a woman’s face plastered across and the word ‘Welcome’ written beside her. She was quite beautiful, with sharp cheekbones, long curly black hair, and painted red lips.

“Woah,” Ryan said, as the whole lot of you craned your heads so you could see it more clearly. Ryan had gone all out for the gallery, and had neon green wings painted under his eyes, which matched the neon green blazer he was wearing over a white shirt. “Is that her? This Ava chick.”

“Yup,” The Doctor said proudly. “Oh I can’t wait to meet her, I bet she’s a riot.”

Then a pair of bells rang and you jumped, clutching onto the Doctor with a yelp. Your heart sat in your throat and the Doctor placed her hand onto yours. You soon found your gaze met with hers, and your heart continued beating rapidly, but this time, for an entirely different reason. In this light her eyes almost looked like they were bright green. They sparkled under the light, and for a moment, you were mesmerised.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, tearing yourself off of her. “Just startled.”

A small marching band began walking past, wearing bright red uniforms. One of them blew something that looked like a kazoo, and it let out the shrilling bell sound that had just startled you. The Doctor gasped, her eyes shining in delight. “Oh I am following that,” and without another word, she had zoomed off.

The rest of you looked at each other, exasperated. After one moment, then another Yaz rolled her eyes. “Alright, okay, I’ll follow her. If we get into trouble I’ll ring.”

“Not too loud I hope,” Ryan said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t want to startle Y/N.”

You gave him a glare, that was only half fake.

“Oh nah,” Yaz said, and met Ryan’s smirk. “Without the Doc around, there’s no one for Y/N to cling on to!”

You began to splutter out a protest but the other’s laughed, and before you knew it, Yaz jogged off with a wave.

You sighed dejectedly. “I really was freaked out.”

“We know,” Graham said. “Just teasin’ is all.”

You, Ryan, and Graham began exploring the art gallery. Ryan nudged you on the shoulder. “When’re you gonna tell her anyway?”

“Tell who what?”

“You can play confused around her,” Graham said, by your other side. “But we know better.”

You rolled your eyes, and a waitress appeared in front of you, offering you a platter. You watched for a moment as the collection of little cakes changed from neon orange to neon cyan, and they looked almost as if they were glowing. It was so cool. You plucked one off the tray and shoved it into your mouth, nodded your thanks and then grinned ruefully at your friends as you sidestepped away from them.

The cake was nice. it wasn’t a flavour you could identify, but it was sweet and fluffy, like a cloud.

Graham took three.

“C’mon Y/N,” Ryan said, skirting around the waitress so he could catch up to you. “You know she likes you back.”

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” you lied. “I just want to eat some cake and look at some funky art.”

Also a lie.

Graham held out one of the cakes to Ryan, and, in doing so, essentially barred you in between them. Ryan took off a chunk and popped it into his mouth. “What’s got you so worked up about it anyway, it’s not as if you’re as emotionally awkward as she is,” he sounded like he was speaking from experience.”

“You too,” you said. “Are the worst wingmen in the history of wingmen ever. Now I’m going to go over…” You glanced around the room, trying to find an area that was relatively crowded. “There,” you said, pointing at a crowd of people gathered around a stage where a man was eating… was that fire? Wow. “So,” you continued. “If you’re going to butt your noses into my love life, I suggest you keep up.”

You dove under Graham’s arm and ran. Look, it wasn’t as though you didn’t like them – of course you did, they were some of your best friends. But it was awkward talking about the Doctor. It was so confusing, she, was so confusing, and you didn’t have the energy to think about it right now.

You slipped into the crowd and scurried to the front, dogding and weaving through neon coloured bodies. When you made it you ducked, turning around so you could try and find Graham and Ryan through the gaps in the people.

There, in the back, towards the right. They were standing around like lost puppies. Good, you had definitely lost them.

Slowly, you navigated your way through the crowd until you were by the other side. This area was far quieter, and you ducked into a narrow hallway.

You’d lost them, and with it, you had lost those annoying questions.

You’d find them soon enough, you just needed ten minutes where a ‘will they, won’t they’ conversation wasn’t the focal point of anything and everything your friends wanted to talk about. Ten minutes without knowing smiles and staring at each other like they were in on some secret, or like they were characters on The Office.

You found yourself in a relatively empty room, save a few individuals. There was clothing propped up everywhere, and you quickly realised it was on display like a stagnate fashion show. Slowly, you began walking around the room, taking it all in.

And then you saw it.

Completely and utterly confused, you stood in front of a dress. You caught snatches of conversation from the people next to you, who were praising the piece for its creativity and out-of-the-box presentation, but to you... well, it was ugly.

It held a clattering of different patterns; the skirt was made with stripes of cheetah print, rainbow polka dots, red gingham, and acid washed denim. The top clashed even more, and was made of a sequinned fabric, one that, when you moved it, you assumed would change colour.

You weren't sure if it was supposed to be an open smock or a cape, but a sheer, neon orange fabric was drapped around behind the dress and over the arms of the mannequin. It ended in huge black ruffled lace, lining the mannequins wrists and the kissing the floor.

Now, this wouldn't be too bad if there were any structure to the dress, but it was cut into a t-shirt shape, so there wasn't any reason, practically or otherwise, to separate the skirt from the top.

Not to mention the Edwardian style ruff collar that sat around the neck, was made out of, of all things, CD’s – which apparently still existed. You wondered if it was a commentary on something, though you couldn't think of what.

You screwed your face up, concentrating, trying to find something, just a single element about the dress that you liked. It was just... awful, you were sure you could even argue that as an objective fact. Surely the thing broke some sort of laws about fashion and style.

"It's a social experiment," a warm voice said beside you, and you jumped. You hadn't heard anyone coming.

You turned to face the person who owned the voice, and assessed her thoughtfully. You recognised her, but you weren't sure from where.

"I thought I would explain it to you," she continued. "Since you were quite obvious on your distaste for the piece."

The realisation dawned on you like a wave of ice water, running through your mind and down into your bones. Her high cheekbones, her wry cherry red smirk, her unruly, uncontrolled black curls dancing under the light as she cocked her head to the side, it couldn't be.

But it was. Standing beside you was Ava Centuria, the artist whose work was on display.

The artist who had designed this dress.

The artist who had just called you out on not liking her dress.

Your realisation must have shown on your face, because she broke out in a pearly laugh. "I do appreciate constructive criticism though. So, tell me, what don't you like about it?"

You gauged her thoughtful. Part of you was about to splutter out an apology, tell her that you actually really did like her work. But that would be a lie, and somehow, under Ava Centuria's warm gaze, lying to her just didn’t feel right.

You looked back to the dress, then to her. “Honestly. I… I just think it’s ugly.”

She let out a delighted laugh again, and you realised it was actually quite a lovely sound. “You’re the first to say that.

”“Is that a bad thing?” You asked, because really, you had just insulted her work, and she seemed happy about it.

“It’s refreshing,” she said, and she regarded the dress. “And you’re right. It is ugly. I made it so on purpose.”

This just made you more confused. “I’m sorry? Why would you do that?”

She gave you a kind smile, and you felt yourself warm in response. Ava Centuria really was striking, it looked like she had been moulded by the gods. She was the kind of beautiful that poets wrote about. “Like I said, it’s a social experiment.”

You smiled at that, thinking of the Doctor. You would have to show her this, she loves a good experiment. “What are you experimenting?”

“People,” she said, and she brushed her arm over your elbow, guiding you with her to look around the room. Her touch was warm, and you found that you didn’t mind her touching you at all.

“I find it terribly interesting,” she said, her voice low and soft in your ear. She was so completely close – you could smell her perfume, which was sweet, like a warm Spring breeze. “That something could be completely mundane, or even downright awful, but, if you give it prestige, suddenly everyone completely and utterly adores it,” when she turned to look at you again, her eyes sparkled. “It is why I appreciate you, you are honest. It is not something I am accustomed to.”

It was a sobering statement. “That seems like a lonely way to live.”

Her expression faltered, her wry grin falling into a small, sad, smile. “It can be” she gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes, though, I am lucky enough to find someone who can make the days just a little bit brighter.”

You thought about the Doctor, who lied so often, and kept so many secrets. Was she lonely too? Even with the fam, even with you with her? Did you help make her days brighter?

“I’m terribly sorry,” she said after a moment, recatching your attention. “But I didn’t seem to catch your name.”

You noticed she had still not let go of your arm, and was caressing you slightly with her thumb.

You chuckled. “I never gave it.”

“Surely then you must share it.”

You told her your name and she smiled. “Ah. Y/N. It is fitting. It is a beautiful name for an equally beautiful person.”

You felt your eyes widen and your ears tense. Had she just-

“I am an artist,” she continued. “I know these things.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. It wasn’t often people as gorgeous as Ava Centuria just casually flirted with you.

She stuck out her other hand. “I am Ava, by the way.”

It was such a bizarre turn of events that it startled a laugh out of you. You took her hand. “I know who you are, Ms Centuria.”

“Ava,” she repeated. “And, I know. But I felt it was important for a formal introduction, especially when one considers what I am about to ask you.”

You paused at that. Ask what?

“I would like to give you a tour,” she said. “A personal one, just for you. I would very much like to hear your thoughts on my collection and…” her movement on your arm faltered. “I would very much like to get to know you better, if you would let me.”

Under the lighting, Ava’s hair seemed to glow, like a halo of light was wrapped around it. She looked ethereal, and you couldn’t believ that she had just –

Oh gosh, Ava Centuria had just asked you on a date. Now. As in, immediately.

“Oh Y/N,” a familiar voice called out. “There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

You turned to see the Doctor strolling up, her neon blue coat billowing behind her. She… there was no other word for it, she looked awkward. Her hands were balled into fists, and she was giving you a strained smile. Behind her, across the other side of the room, stood Yaz and Ryan. Yaz was giving you an incredulous look, as if you had just taken the last cake from a tray, and Ryan, Ryan looked like he was about to whoop into the air, or shake you.

You had no idea how to interpret either of those looks.

“Doctor,’ you said and her smile softened as she met your gaze.

You turned back to Ava, sure that you had flushed, and untangled yourself from her grasp. The Doctor was beside you - and when had she appeared? She wrapped her arm around your frame, pulling you in to your side. "You must be Ava Centuri?" She said, but her smile seemed too wide, too forced. "Oh I'm a big fan!"

Ava stiffened. “Well,” she said, and her voice was distant. “It appears I am at a disadvantage, Y/N has not told me about you.”

“Oh! Well that’s surprising, I’m Y/N’s number one. We’re very, very close, Y/N and I,” her other hand fell across your arm, the spot where Ava had just been holding you. “We’re two peas in a pod, birds of a feather, made from the same cloth, you could say. Oh, a match made in heaven! Like Bonnie and Clyde,” she scrunched up her face. “No wait, not them, They died.”

“They also killed a lot of people,” you added. “Which wasn’t great.”

“That to,” The Doctor said, nodding to you like it was the most serious conversation you had ever had. She turned back towards Ava. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Well met Doctor,” Ava said, and she seemed to genuinely mean it. “I’m quite sorry though, you see, Y/N and I were-”

“Oh yeah!” The Doctor said. “I’m terribly sorry,” She squeezed your shoulder again, and it looked like the Doctor wasn’t sorry at all. “But we have to be off. We’ve got loads of things to meet, people to see, and places to do,” she scrunched up her face again. “No, wait, that’s the wrong order.”

“Things to do, people to meet, and places to see,” you supplied.

The Doctor grinned at you, utterly delighted. You felt a swell of pride in your stomach, you loved that you were the cause of that smile.

“Ah,” something seemed to dawn on Ava, and she looked in between you and The Doctor. Her eyes lingered on the Doctor’s arm, which was still securely wrapped around your waist. That small, sad smile from earlier returned. “I, I do believe I understand,” she turned to the Doctor. “You have found an angel among mortals, be sure you remember that.”

The Doctor audibly swallowed, and her grip on you faltered, for a moment. “I – uh, yeah. You’re right. Completely right, actually. Always knew you were clever.”

She nodded. “Good,” she turned to you. “And dear Y/N, if you ever find yourself wanting to entertain the whims of a lonely artist, I really would consider myself so very lucky.”

You didn’t know what to say.

She took your hand, and placed a delicate kiss on your knuckles, a part of you felt your arm tingle at the contact. “I best not keep you then. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. Doctor.” She gave the Doctor a consolatory nod, and left.

“Huh,” The Doctor said. “She was… I’m not sure I liked her as much as I thought I would.”

You hummed, not necessarily agreeing, but not really knowing what to say. You watched Ava walk away with a small frown. You hoped she was okay, she had been kind. She deserved kindness.

She wasn’t someone who your heart could belong to.

You turned to the Doctor. “So, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

The Doctor paused, her face falling. It was almost as if you could see the cogs turning in her brain, but you couldn’t work out why she was thinking so hard. “I think Graham’s gotten lost,” The Doctor said suddenly. “So I think it’s high time we find him and get out of here, what’d you say?”

You nodded, and, still holding you, The Doctor and you began walking out the room. You found your friends gathered outside the TARDIS, in fact, neither you or the Doctor had even paused to find Graham. You assumed Yaz and Ryan had done so, when you and the Doctor were talking to Ava.

On the way in, you noticed how the neon everyone was wearing glowed under the crystals. The Doctor was gorgeous in a way you couldn’t describe. She was here, present, by your side. It was so tangible, suddenly.

You had never noticed before, the way her hair softly fell around her face. She had bright neon stripes of green in it, and you wondered, absentmindedly, when she had had them done. The chain from her earring glinted in the soft light, the stars along the chain glittering.

In a soft voice, you asked. “Why the neon, do you think?”

“I dunno,” she said, and she shut the door behind Ryan, the last to enter the TARDIS. He was giving you a funny look, and you chose to ignore him. You chose to ignore Graham and Yaz too, for good measure. You would get embarrassed and fluder, you could already feel it.

“Sometimes,” the Doctor said, after a moment, and she looked around the room. “When you can’t find any brightness, you wonderful humans chose to create it instead. Even in the darkest of times.”

“Us humans?” You smiled, and you took a chance, maybe this time, just once, the Doctor could be honest. “What do you do then, Doc?”

“I don’t need to create it,” she said, her gaze wholly focused on you. “I’ve found it.”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. That… The Doctor couldn’t possibly mean what you thought she meant. But she looked at you so intently, as if you were her entire universe. Her gaze flickered across your face, across the neon yellow flowers Yaz had painted on your cheeks, across your nose, and on your lips.

She leaned in, or maybe it was you, and she as so close now.

The sound of a loud cheer shattered the spell. You jumped back in shock.

“Finally!” Ryan cried, all the way from across the console.

You looked up to see Ryan, Graham, and Yaz standing off to the side, watching you like a collection of hawks. Graham and Yaz turned to Ryan in astonishment. Yaz elbowed Ryan and he doubled over. She tugged on his ear and whispered harshly.

The Doctor grinned when she spoke. “I can hear you, y’know.”

You, however, could not.

“Is it true?” She asked them, and you desperately wished you could have heard.

Graham gave you both a look, one which said ‘sort it out yourselves’.

The Doctor turned back to you. “I think you and I need to have a talk, later, when there’s no one else around?”

She looked vulnerable, her eyes wide and pleading, as if you hadn’t been just about to kiss her.

You nodded, giving her a small, warm smile. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

#the doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor imagine #13th doctor x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor #Doctor Who #DW #not edited because I wrote and posted this on the exact same day #I even wrote this during a meetting #and instead of doing an assignment due two days away #lots of love xoxoxo

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picnokinesis · 3 years

Note

your profile on ao3 mentions you like Pacific Rim have you ever considered a series 12 cast (so 13 + fam + master) pacrim au? bc weirdly enough i feel like spydoc would actually be drift compatible

OH MY DAYS ok I had to write this out on a note on my phone because I have so many thoughts, pacrim aus come like BREATHING to me, but consider:

Koschei Oakdown (he/him), teenage heir of some kind of rich and powerful business man who moved his family inland when the Kaiju attacks began. His father is essentially grooming Koschei to be his successor, but Koschei has zero interest - all he wants is to go back to the coastal city of Vancouver where he grew up, so he can stay with his best friend Theta Lungbarrow (they/them) and study things he's actually interested, like xenobiology, since he's certain that the only way to defeat the kaiju is to understand them. It only takes a few weeks for him to get sick of the whole thing and run away, heading back to Vancouver - but the day he arrives, the kaiju Karloff attacks. He survives, and finds Theta, who also survived - but their parents were not so lucky. Koschei's parents believe that he's dead, and Koschei has no intention of correcting them on that, and so him and Theta end up in the care of the state, and he begins to start studying xenobiolology. Theta, on the other hand, has become somewhat obsessed with the idea of jaegers, after watching Brawler Yuhkon fight against Karloff - the first jaeger to ever fight a kaiju - and win. They want to build jaegers and be a pilot, and even Koschei won't deny that there's no way the two of them aren't drift compatible.

Fast forward a few years - Theta and Koschei are two young but brilliant scientists working for the PPDC, Theta in J-Tech and Koschei in K-Science. Theta is working on a new technological approach to building jaegers and also messing with the Drift interface, to see if the synchronisation between pilots can be increased, whilst Koschei is looking for weaknesses in the kaiju's biology. However, they're both entirely invested in each other's research and tend to argue quite intensely in order to brainstorm and have breakthroughs - much to the despair of everyone in the j-tech and k-science departments. But one thing Theta wants more than anything is to pilot a jaeger - even though on paper they have no chance, having not been to Jaeger academy or anything. But Caitlin Lightcap (the pilot of Brawler Yuhkon and inventor of the drift interface) also didn't go to jaeger academy. She just put herself in the position where they HAD to let her in a jaeger by completing the first drift with D'onofrio and saving his life. And so, because Theta entirely lacks self preservation, they persuade Koschei that it's a good idea to test out their new drift technology on themselves. Because the other issue is funding - no one wants to support an experimental rig or jaeger design until Theta can prove that it works. So they will.

And that's EXACTLY what they do, and they're extremely lucky it doesn't kill them but they get it to work and it's fantastic. The Drift is stronger than any before it. And so (after the pair of them get pulled out of an experimental rig and get into a LOT of trouble), they manage to persuade the PPDC to 1) let them build a new jaeger and 2) be the two who pilot it, since they've alread forged a drift bond in the new interface.

And so the jaeger Gallifrey Ember is born.

BUT THEN. They have several extremely successful deployments, until one fateful night where it all goes very wrong. I'm not sure exactly what happens because this is all off the top of my head this morning and I'm currently walking to work HAHA but I'm gonna say that maybe Koschei thought there was some xenobiology knowledge that they could use to fight against this specific kaiju (which is something he's done before and it's partly why their missions are so successful) but as he goes to dig for it, he accidentally pulls up the memory of the Karloff attack, and ends up chasing the rabbit. Only, because the new interface has their minds so intertwined, it knocks the pair of them out of alignment even worse than it would have otherwise (especially since their trauma memories are from the same event) and their drift just goes completely. As you can imagine, it all goes very badly a la Gispy Danger vs Knifehead, only the city they're trying to protect gets hit pretty bad and there are a LOT of casulaties - more than ever since the jaeger programme started deploying. I think in the end it's Theta who, mostly bearing the neural load alone, has to do something drastic to stop the kaiju - maybe killing it in a way that spills Kaiju Blue everywhere and just poisons the land/water. Anyway after that Theta is EXTREMELY ANGRY at Koschei, and he's mad at HER for being mad at him because sorry for having trauma memories and accidentally triggering them?? But she's like I KNOW I also have those memories and you left me to basically pilot alone??? But anyway it's all a mess, Gallifrey Ember is basically destroyed and the pair of them are injured, traumatised, and unreconcilable, and so they decide that they're never drifting again and basically go separate ways. No one ever uses Theta's drift or jaeger tech again because it's considered too dangerous or volatile.

FAST FORWARD SEVERAL YEARS AGAIN. Enter Ryan Sinclair - young j-tech engineer who looks at the original Gallifrey Ember specs and is like "hey, no, this WORKED but it's just it went wrong one time and now no one will touch it, but maybe I can fix this old beat up jaeger and make it work again?". And so he rebuilds the jaeger - and names it Gallifrey Inferno instead. But, of course, no one wants to pilot it because of it's history, and also it really needs two pilots who are used to this sort of interface, rather than trying to train two new pilots (also, what new pilots?? The funding for the jaeger programme is getting cut by the day, and the jaeger pilot academies are all getting shut down). So, in short - they need Theta and Koschei back.

Yaz and Graham are there too - Yaz was in jaeger academy, but then the funding got pulled so her cohort got dropped, and now she's a security guard for the Shatterdome, but she still desperately wants to be at the heart of the action and actually making a difference. Graham is one of the guys who drives the carts across the Shatterdome deployment floor HAHA but he's great, he talks to EVERYONE in the Shatterdome and knows exactly what's going on underneath all the bureaucracy. He's also Ryan's granddad - they're somewhat at odds, but they're also both still grieving over the death of Grace, Ryan's nan, who died during a kaiju attack.

And then I have no idea - the three of them team up to drag Koschei and Theta back? Although to be honest I bet if Theta found out they were rebuilding their jaeger, they would be breaking into the Shatterdome IMMEDIATELY, so maybe Yaz catches them sneaking in hahaha. But obviously, even when Theta and Koschei are back together they are very reluctant to drift. I imagine that they both also have a lot of problems with ghost drifitng and stuff because their drift was so strong. And then...I want there to be s12 parallels, but I'm not quite sure what happens but I feel like Theta ended up being made to work on some weird slightly unethical drift project by the people who control the funding of the PPDC because they want to know more of the impact of the drift on the human brain, especially such a strong drift (I'm thinking like...ok so in one of my favourite pacrim fanfics, Newt gets forced to work in a drift project after his kaiju drift, but he keeps the fact that Hermann also drifted secret to protect him - but it ends up being pretty rough for Newt) but then obviously they're forced to keep the whole thing secret so they don't even tell Koschei. But eventually when the pair of them drift again, Koschei finds out (which then is the equivalent of him finding stuff in the Matrix). But he doesn't find out everything because it's all a mess and maybe the drift is off kilter because of it? Not sure. But yeah! This is all extremely rough so...y'know. Could probably develop it further. My only other thought is that the other jaeger pilots are alternate versions of thoschei or doctor-companion team ups.

#taka replies #anon #doctor who #pacific rim #pac rim au #SKSKSKSKS CAN YOU TELL #I LOVE PACIFIC RIM #i am actually at work now which is why it's taken me ages to actually finish typing this #i am not writing this as a fic #just putting that out there now #HAHAHA #long post

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fan-fiction-kitty · 3 years

Note

Kokichi and Nagito is your current fixation ? Well then, Nagito and Kokichi (separately) with an ultimate actress S/O please!

Haha yesss my plan to get people to request them has worked >:D I got you fam!

Warnings: Obsessive behavior? kind of?

Words: 303

Genre: Fluff, headcanons

Nagito

-It doesn’t matter what your talent is, he’s just excited that an ultimate likes him!!

-If you’re a theater actress, he’ll want you to recite some of you lines for him. If you’re a movie actress, he WILL binge all your films.

-He’s so impressed at how you can morph into a different person! It’s like your entire personality changes when you get in character!

-Nagito tends to have some obsessive tendencies, so he may get a little bit crazy on you when you start talking about your talent. You’ll have to tell him to chill every once in a while.

-He’ll definitely start talking about how unworthy he is to be in your presence, too. And then when you tell him how amazing he is, he’s like “aww, wow! What a nice character you’re playing! Someone who loves complimenting people- if someone like that really existed they’d bring so much hope to the world!!”

-Shut up, Nagito.

Kokichi

-”Isn’t acting just like... lying to make people think you’re a different person than you are?”

-That was Kokichi’s first question to you, and of course that’s such a dumb take. If people know you’re acting, it’s not a lie.

-He sees so much prank potential in you. Like, you could just go on some crazy monologue in public to freak people out. Or scare the shit out of Kaito by pretending you’re dying.

-Please don’t let him get carried away. You’re very likely to get arrested if you let him use you for pranks.

-He’ll watch your films... but in secret. Then, when you next see each other he’ll start quoting your lines to confuse you.

-Expect compliments, but stupid ones. Like, “Wow, I liked how in that one scene, you did that one thing!”

-”Kokichi, that could literally be any scene.”

#kokichi x reader #nagito x reader #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa v3 #dr2 #drv3 #kokichi headcanons #nagito headcanons #danganronpa headcanons #kokichi ouma #nagito komaeda

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perriewinklenerdie · 4 years

Text

Evening conversations (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Open Heart, Ethan Ramsey x MC

A/N: Hello, hello, hello! How are we feeling, fam? PB delivered, we finally did it guys. I, of course, what else is new, couldn't help myself, and had to attempt a rewrite. Added some scenes cause I have no impulse control. Now, we have a few long weeks ahead of us, but it is 1) understandable and 2) so incredibly smart and good of PB to put the health of their people first. We live in hard times, the lives and safety come first. It will fly by, and hopefully, in the meantime, that scary situation is over. Take care of yourselves, guys.

AO3 link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738884

Tag list: @paleweasels, @hopelessromantic1352, @kittykatchoices, @valiantlychaoticbarbarian , @radlovedreamer , @usuallyamazinglyaverage, @strawberrwess @palestazure, @cordoniaqueensworld, @universallypizzataco, @princess-geek, @faithhasnowords, @mightyfangirlofthefandoms, @drakewalkerfantasy, @timmagicktoad, @laceandlula, @greywitchyshots, @llamasgrl, @gingerjane15, @bucket-harrington , @marywrites-things , @ethanplaysfavorites , @mfackenthal , @betelgeusebee , @simsvetements, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @buzz-bee-buzz, @owleyes374, @cora-nova, @aworldoffandoms, @l822, @cream-ray, @ughhhxjazzy, @silverlitskies, @justendlesssummerfeels, @togetherwearerapture, @desmaranj, @edgiestwinter, @friedherringclodthing, @daisy-ashton, @waytooattuned, @choicesgremlin , @lapisreviewsstuff, @the-soot-sprite, @writerapprentice, @chasingrobbie, @choicesobsessedd, @x-kyne-x, @thisperfectmemory, @drakewalker04, @rookie-ramsey, @jlynn12273, @thepinknymph @dr-brianna-casey-valentine, @a-i-n-a-a-s-h

Enjoy! <3

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Her shoulder comes in contact with Landry’s chest and suddenly her mind is quiet. No amount of shouts or looks thrown her way could puncture the fog that surrounded her for that one moment. It was nothing, and then all at once, it came with double the force, knocking the air out of her lungs.

Both of them tumble to the ground, Claire’s elbow digging into Landry’s ribs, a sharp pain radiating from the point of contact. Before she knows what is happening, a pair of hands grab her by her arms forcefully, fingers digging into her skin, and make a move to pull her up, when a voice booms over the field and next thing she knows, the weight on her back is eased.

“Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch.” His tone is chilling, filled with newly found rage that wouldn’t be easily explained if anyone asked why he was so quick to defend her. Luckily for him, the fight breaks out and his act of protectiveness gets forgotten by everyone but her, too stunned to participate in the insult fest that ensued as a result of her attempt to secure a win for Edenbrook.

It only stops when a very disappointed Naveen scolds them, breaking them all up and sending them on their own way. Claire was getting her clothes out of her bag when she heard his voice again, just behind her back.

“So? Was that worth dragging me down here?” Ethan’s words were slightly slurred, and as soon as she turned around to face him, she knew why. He was holding a cold bottle of beer to his cheek, the skin beneath the glass turning an ugly shade or purple. She winced, feeling a pang of guilt in her chest.

“I regret you getting hurt, but I don’t regret having you here.” She revealed, a proud smirk pulling on the corners of her lips when she thought about a crushing defeat that left Mass Kenmore licking their wounds. “I came to mess them up and I definitely achieved that.”

He smiled without humor, his eyes remaining emotionless. The lines of his face are even more pronounced under the floodlights over the field than normally, making him seem even more tired than usually.

“I got the feeling your head wasn’t really in it tonight.”

“It’s softball. My head was never going to be in it.” he responded matter-of-factly, looking past her. There was something in the way he closed himself off to his surroundings that worried her. Something was off, something was bothering him, and she would be damned if she didn’t try to help him, any way she could.

Her fingers brush against the back of his hand with the softest touch, raising goosebumps up his arm. It was all she dared to do in public, where everyone could see them and draw their own conclusions. Despite all that, the warmth of his skin against hers made her pulse jump, endorphins rushing through her bloodstream rapidly.

“I know it’s more than that. Talk to me, Ethan.” Her face fell, realizing how little they could keep from each other, despite their best efforts to keep things professional and keep their private affairs separate from their work. His gaze made its way back to her eyes, and the depth of his yearning is as strong as her own. When he speaks, its with the softest tone she’s heard from him in a while, almost like he didn’t care about all the other doctors that were passing them by.

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He finally let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing a bit. “… I suppose you could come home with me.” a muscle on his face twitched like he was about to smile, the line feeling too domestic, too familiar. “I have a new recipe I’ve been looking for an excuse to try.”

He was trying to impress her. He was definitely trying to impress her, she was sure of that. If not because of the way he said it, then because of the way he smiled when she asked, surprised. “You cook?”

“I do. Often. I find it very meditative, actually. It always helps me get my thoughts in order.”

“Okay, now I’m intrigued. Take me home.” She blurted out, then blushed a crimson red when she realized what her sentence carried with it. His lips curled into a warm smile, a reaction she didn’t expect, but wasn’t about to ask questions.

They separated briefly, for just enough time to shower in the locker rooms and change into their casual clothes. When they met again, they walked to his car, picking up their conversation about the patient they had earlier that day.

Ethan opened the door to his apartment, the space as clean and spotless as she remembered it to be. Her eyes got drawn to the view behind the windows, the curtains being thrown open only making it easier for her to watch how the lights flickered above the water.

She walked further into the room uncertainly, running her hand along the back of the couch. “So what’s this recipe you’ve been dying to try?”

“Georgian Stuffed Chicken.”

“On a random weeknight?” she asked, surprised that he was willing to go through such a meticulous process when they both knew they had an early shift the next day.

“Correct. Come over here.” He nodded, tilting his head towards the entrance to the kitchen, letting her go first. Following close behind her, he walked over to the fridge and then placed a full chicken and a bowl of butter in front of her.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Claire’s voice went up an octave when she voiced her concern. She did know how to cook, she was pretty good at it too, but measured up to Ethan, she was almost certain that she was a novice. He grinned at her slightly.

“Get massaging.”

Her moves were insecure and awkward, not entirely convinced that she was doing it correctly, and she was completely right, for she heard him laughing under his breath as he watched her struggle.

“You’ll have to do better than that. Rub it right in. Full coverage.” He instructed her, then turned towards his own work. His body seemed completely at ease and strangely content when he occupied himself with chopping ingredients and sautéing them in a pot.

“Ethan, just how long have you been a secret chef?”

“For about as long as I can remember.” He answered her question, wiping his hands on the towel he had by his side.

“As in… you had an Easy-Bake Oven?” she tried imagining little Ethan helping around the kitchen, the vision of it endearing more than she anticipated.

“As in my Dad liked to cook, and he let me help him with all the easy parts as soon as I was old enough.” He set the record straight, his face not revealing any emotions connected to the memories.

“That’s painfully adorable.” Claire giggled, leaning against the counter, her eyes focused on him. “Did little Ethan have a special apron? Or a little chef’s hat?”

“… No.”

The scent of their food being made filled the air around them, occupying her senses for a moment. Ethan turned back to the counter, chopping the cherries into smaller chunks. While he was working, he continued explaining. “My dad worked a lot. He took on extra shifts. The kind of thing single parents have to do to keep the lights on. One way I could help was making dinner sometimes when he was exhausted.”

“That’s pretty sweet. I guess you got good at it.” she pointed out, a sweet smile brightening up her face. A satisfied smirk made its way into his features.

“I make it my business to get good at everything.”

As she finished up with the chicken, Ethan added more ingredients to the pot, inhaling deeply, something weighting on his chest heavily.

“It’s missing something.” He mused, shaking his head after a second of thought.

“Did you check the recipe?”

“Recipes always tend to the safe side, flavor-wise. What would you add?” he asked, pulling out peppers and herbs from his fridge. She nodded towards the peppers.

“I should have known you’d want to add more heat.” He grinned, putting the herbs away and getting started on chopping the peppers.

“It’s not the only kind of heat I’d like to add…” she muttered under her breath, clearly enough for him to hear and understand. His gaze zeroes in on her, eyes meeting in a look of longing so intense it makes him weak in the knees. It lasts only a moment before it’s gone, with a deep breath, and then he’s back to being his self-controlled self, focusing on the cutting board once more.

“You make it hard to stick to my intentions, Claire.”

“Good.”

They both got busy with keeping their eyes on their food, but time went by and Ethan still didn’t say a word about what they were meant to talk about in the first place.

“So… are we going to talk about whatever’s got you so…” she extended her arms widely and Ethan sighed in defeat.

“I suppose I did promise you an explanation. The thing is… I’ve been avoiding my father.” He told her, and it felt as though he let go of a heavy burden. He’s always been on his own, dealing with his problems alone. Now, at least in that moment, he had her to rely on, and the way she looked at him told him that she was there to listen, and help should he need her to do so.

“But why? It sounded like you and him have a strong relationship.” She noted, trying to find the straightest line through all the parts she couldn’t possibly understand. Perhaps one day, she would be by his side to help him deal with it all, but today was not that day. Today, he needed her to just be with him and help him any way she knew how.

“I can’t stop thinking about what you and I talked about in the care that day we followed my mother. I always thought that Dad and I had a decent relationship for two people with not much in common.” He placed the knife back down on the cutting board, exhaling loudly before continuing. “But I’ve come to realize that I never tried to get closer to him. Because I couldn’t truly understand him.”

“Because he still loves your mom.” She understood what he meant with a somber realization, seeing past the façade of a strong man that was rarely rattled by missiles that hit him. He only nodded.

“That kind of unconditional love… I could never comprehend it.”

“He loves you unconditionally too.” Claire pointed out to him what was obviously there. In any other circumstance, she would try to get to the bottom of it, but it was clear what he meant, and they didn’t have the time to delve into it just yet.

“Everything in this world is conditional, Claire. Everything. My dad, he never pushes anyone. He never challenges anyone. He never demands anything of anybody.” He tapped his finger against the counter every time he pointed out a trait of his father, his face as blank as it could possibly be. “What my mother did to us, it’s like it didn’t matter. And I needed it to matter. I need what I do to matter.”

“I take that it’s not how your relationship with Dr. Banerji was.”

“The opposite. “ he smiled softly at the mention of his mentor that became a second father figure to him. A man that pushed him to be the best doctor he could be and was now pushing him to be the best man he could possibly be, even if Ethan himself wasn’t aware of what his friend was doing. “Naveen challenged me every single day. Still does. If I ever came up short of what I was capable of, he let me know.”

Her face fell when she put his words together with what she knew was a typical Ethan Ramsey reaction. “And you haven’t talked to your dad about any of this.”

“I have no idea how I’d start that conversation.”

“So you’re avoiding him altogether?” she asked, already knowing the answer. It was such a characteristic thing for him to do, and yet she hoped that she was wrong. But she rarely was wrong.

“Yes.” He breathed in deeply, stirring the content of the pot.

The perfect silence of his apartment is shattered by the knock on the door, and Ethan’s whole body visibly tenses at the sound.

“Just how long have you been ignoring him? Long enough for him to show up unannounced to make sure you’re still alive?” her eyes flickered between him and the door, a look of concern blooming on her face. His face twisted pensively.

“… I’d better go answer that.”

His own footsteps ring in his ears as he approaches the door. He counted the distance between him and his father, dreading the conversation that most likely would ensue the moment he opens the door to greet him.

He could feel the pleasant warmth on his back, in the place where Claire had her eyes on him, offering her silent support from afar. He took a deep breath, then answered the door.

‘Hi, Dad.”

“Thank goodness you’re here. I was starting to worry about you.” a relieved smile lit up his father’s face, his posture visibly relaxing as soon as he was sure that his son was safe and sound.

Ethan’s expression fell when he realized how worried he must have been. “Sorry, Dad, I’ve been…”

“Busy, as usual. Don’t worry, I understand.”

Alan stepped into the apartment, sweeping his eyes over the room, and then his eyes stopped at Claire and his movements halted instantly.

“Oh. But I see you have company… Hello again, Dr. Herondale.”

Claire smiled at him warmly, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t mind me, Mr. Ramsey. Pull up a stool and help us make fancy chicken.” Her comment made him laugh, his gaze shifting from the chicken on the counter to his son.

“I see a chicken that needs proper seasoning. Do you mind, Ethan?”

He waved his hand at his dad’s comment. “Add whatever you like, Dad.”

Moving around the room with comfortableness of a person that knew the area well, Alan reached into the cabinets and pulled out a few bottles of spices, spreading them over the chicken. “This chicken’s going to give us all a little punch in the jaw.”

Ethan kept his line of sight on the stove, refusing to look up and face the situation he was in. But then he felt warmth on his face and found it impossible not to look back at her. He was met with her smile and shining eyes.

Deciding to break the moment before he did something irresponsible, he took the pot off the stove and moved towards the counter. “Incoming.”

Alan and Claire stepped aside, observing as Ethan stuffed the chicken, then moved it into the baking dish. Ethan’s father cleared his throat. “So what exactly have you been busy with these past couple weeks?”

“Work. Same as usual.”

“… I see. It’s just that until recently, you always had time to answer my calls.” He pointed out, his face twisting with sadness. Silence fell upon the three of them, Ethan remaining quiet, unable to answer. Claire’s eyes find his own once again, asking a silent question. He shook his head, refusing to act.

“Talk to him.” she mouthed towards him, frowning. Alan noticed something was off, and he caught their little exchange.

“Am I missing something?”

Her eyes were still on him, still encouraging him to talk to his father like he should have done weeks ago. With a heavy sigh, he gave up and turned towards his father.

“Dad… I have to talk to you about something.” Ethan said, then turned towards her with tired eyes. “Can you handle the bird?”

Her hand itched to reach out and rest on his arm. She resisted the urge, instead nodding her head reassuringly. “Sure. You two go talk.”

Claire tried not to focus on their conversation too much, tried to give them as much privacy as she could, but one line reached her ears despite her best efforts.

“Love is complicated, Ethan. I thought you’d know that by now…”

In her peripheral vision, she was convinced she could see Alan looking at her, and then, a second later, a hot flash brushed against her skin. Ethan looked at her too, convinced she wouldn’t notice.

The conversation the two men needed to have was private. So much so that she felt as though she was intruding, despite knowing what the said conversation was about. Knowing all that, she decided to make sure that all in the kitchen was taken care of, and then started creeping towards the door of the apartment. Ethan’s worried voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Claire? Where are you going?” she turned around, nodding towards them both.

“Home. I think you two need some privacy.”

“But the chicken…” he was genuinely upset that she was leaving, which made her smile so widely her cheeks hurt. Winking at him playfully, she responded with humor in her voice.

“Bring me some tomorrow.”

She could see the war that was waging in his mind as he looked between her and his father before he nodded, relieved that he would have time to set things straight with his dad and still catch up with her later.

“Wait here, Dad. Claire, I’ll walk you out.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Ramsey.” She bid the older man goodbye, smiling at him widely. He reciprocated the gesture in kind.

“It’s always a pleasure to talk to you, Dr. Herondale. Get home safe and have a good night.”

Ethan led her out of the building, holding the door open for her.

“Can you get home okay?”

“Sure, I’ll call a car.” She shrugged, reaching into her pocket for her phone when she was stopped by Ethan’s hand. He rested it on her shoulder, his touch gentle and warm, and then turned her towards him.

“Claire…”

He pulled her even closer, resting his other hand on her cheek. His thumb caressed her skin, tracing the line of her cheekbone tenderly. When he spoke, his voice was low and filled to the brim with longing, not for the first time that evening.

“Thank you.”

“Ethan…”

It all felt familiar, the determination in his eyes, the certainty of his moves, the warmth of his touch. Without another moment of hesitation, he leaned down to make their lips meet, wrapping his arm around her securely. He couldn’t get her close enough, couldn’t hold her tight enough.

So many times, he imagined what it would be like to have her by his side again. So many sleepless nights he spent missing the heat of her body, the softness of her touch, the tenderness of her caress. Now that it was finally happening, he felt as though he was dreaming again.

He could feel the desperation in the way her lips moved against his, the fierceness and eagerness to bring him closer. It was everything he’d wanted to do, to have her close and keep her there. He wanted it to happen every day of those past months, every time she came near him, talked to him, argued with him. The fire was still there, simmering lowly, waiting for the circumstances to change so it could flare up again.

Their breathing got irregular, both of them trying to catch as much oxygen as they could. The intensity of the kiss was rising fast, threatening to destroy the scale. Every cell in his body was calling for her, to hold her, to have her, to bring her back home with him. She held him tighter, their lips coming together fast and hard, desperately trying to prolong the moment. His fingers grabbed the material of her dress that covered her back, willing to do whatever it took to hold onto her.

At long last, she pulled away from him, forcing herself to not dive right back into him. Their eyes met, longing in them clear as day. They still held each other close, unable to put even an inch of space between them.

“Ethan… what does this mean?” she muttered, her voice small and insecure. He felt a pang in his chest when he realized what she was expecting him to say.

“I don’t know.”

Ethan pulled her right back in, the kiss having an entirely different tone. Slow, soft and tender, filled to the brim with emotions he was beginning to understand and come to terms with. She kissed him back, her hands caressing the sides of his face.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

They were breathing the same air, electricity cracking all around them. The invisible force slammed them back together, his hands moving lower to grip her hips. She leaned backwards, kissing him hungrily, like she was never going to get enough of him.

Ethan’s lips left hers, moving along the line of her jaw, descending down her neck. The sound she made bordered on obscene, definitely not suited for the situation they were in currently, but he couldn’t care less. It did things to him, things he could definitely name, things he definitely wanted to explore with her, over and over again. But it wasn’t the time and place for it.

“Do you think-“ he leaned back for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to reach for the door handle, pushing him back inside.

The corridor was dark and she slammed them against the wall, hiding them from the view. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled tightly, a low groan ringing in the empty space around them. The thought of letting her go seemed impossible, and he had no idea how they were going to say goodnight.

Kissing her was intoxicating him, making him feel lightheaded. His hands wandered on her body, touching every part he could reach. With just the tips of his fingers, he brushed the skin of her legs beneath the hem of the dress she was wearing. A heavy sigh slipped out of her mouth, sending a shiver down his back.

Ethan’s touch got more insistent, now gripping the soft skin of her thigh, pulling her leg up and around his hip, growling at the contact. Claire’s smirk was concealed by the darkness they were drowning in, but they knew each other well enough for him to know she was smug. Pressing against her, he elicited a desperate sound of her own, grinning against her.

He trailed off from her lips yet again, sucking on the skin of her collarbone gently, then leaned back and rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths were elevated, shoulders moving up and down rapidly. Any more teasing, and he would have to take her against the wall, which he didn’t want for multiple reasons, the main one being that he wanted to take his time. He waited so long to have her by his side again, he can wait one day more.

“Let’s get you that car.” He whispered and was met with a slight nod from her, the same thought process happening in her mind at the same time.

They waited for her ride to arrive, holding each other close and kissing each other from time to time. When time came for her to leave, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him into her one last time, kissing him like there was nothing else in the world.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” She whispered, then got into the car. Once seated inside, she looked back at him, his eyes staring at her with longing. He followed the car with his gaze until it disappeared from his view.

---------

“You were gone for a long time.” Alan greeted him, leaning back on the couch with a knowing smile. Ethan stopped dead in his tracks, then scoffed and went to the kitchen to check on the chicken.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He tried deflecting the obvious question, to no avail, for his father laughed loudly.

“Ethan, you’re grinning like child that got candy. Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that it has nothing to do with her? Or something that happened while you two were gone?” a suggestive undertone in Alan’s voice made Ethan blush. He really was that obvious, so evidently taken with her that even his own father noticed.

“I- that’s not what we were supposed to be talking about.” He walked back to the couch, and his dad laughed a bit more.

“And you’re blushing! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered. Makes me regret that I came here and interrupted your evening together.”

“Don’t. Claire is right, I do need to talk to you. It’s weighing on me, ignoring you like that. I want us to talk and resolve it.” Ethan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. His relationship with Alan was never stellar, but they made it work as best as they could. With his mother back, the pain he felt since he was a child came back to the surface, widening the chasm between the two men more and more with each day that passed.

“She’s got a good influence on you. Promise me that you will talk to her when we’re done here.”

“I promise.” He nodded, his eyes shifting to his phone, left on the table. His fingers twitched in a gesture to reach for it, but he caught himself just in time to stop himself.

“Text her. Now.” Alan advised, knowing that his son would not act on his feelings if he didn’t encourage him, one way or another.

“She isn’t even home yet, and even if she was, she won’t have time to respond right away.”

“Then ask her to call you when she does. Come on, you’re one second away from bursting.” He said with a clear indication that there was no point in Ethan denying or arguing the point his dad was making. Letting out an annoyed huff, he produced a short message carefully.

“There. Happy now?”

“You’ll thank me later-“ the ping of an incoming message interrupted his smug remark, both men looking on the phone, then at each other. Ethan, almost like he could read his father’s mind, snatched the phone before he could reach for it, causing the older man to laugh.

He could lie to himself all he wanted, but there was no lying to Alan. Ethan’s face lit up as soon as he read Claire’s message, and it was at that moment when he was finally hit with the reality.

“… oh god.” He muttered, leaning forward heavily. Turning to his dad, he tried to form a coherent sentence, but found it impossible. Alan put his hand on his son’s shoulder, offering a smile.

“Congratulations, son. You just realized what everyone else already knew. Including Claire herself.”

For the next two hours, they walked through all the issues Ethan had developed over the years. There was no way they could resolve it all in one night, but it was a good start. By the end of the evening, they had a solid foundation for their road to forgiveness.

Just as they stood up to end their night, Ethan’s phone started ringing. He jumped slightly in his seat, and then started breathing a bit heavier when he saw who was calling. Alan’s grip on his shoulder tightened briefly before started walking towards the guest room he usually occupied when he was visiting.

“Tell her, Ethan. You already know how you feel, it’s time to let her know too.”

“Thank you, Dad.” Ethan walked over to him, hesitating for just a second, before he hugged him tightly. Alan was stunned for a while, and then embraced his son, thanking silently for the universe placing Claire and Ethan on each other’s paths.

#ethan ramsey #open heart #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction #dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #mc x ethan ramsey #fic #fanfiction

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joat-jackofalltrades · 3 years

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Batfam OC Headcanons

These headcanons are all about my superfamily, who I've dubbed the Shadefam. I have post dedicated to their basic info, here. I'm posting this for fun and to invite others to make their own super family or OC family with far too many headcanon and random chapters for a book that'll never be written.

BTW when I say S1, S2, or S3 I'm referring to the certain seasons in Young Justice

Buck- trans ftm taken in by Faith at age 12 because his father isn’t able to properly take care of him. (His dad loves and accepts him, but is very broke and wants what’s best for his son)

Hope is taken in by her sister at age 8 in 2013 when their mother died

Buck dates Bart for a period of time before they mutually agree to break up, both lowkey being attached to other teammates at the time (Jaime and Tim)

Faith is bi and doing fine

Grace is lesbian and freaking disaster

Hope is ace and valid

Buck is trans/gay and perfect

Cody is ace/aro and chillin with his homies

Faith and Grace had a fling for a few months but broke up mutually

Grace has a butch lesbian girlfriend named Joana

They always go to pride and their hero atls hang different pride flags the night before July 1st around the city

Hope lowkey grew up without really registering gender and doesn’t say hello to new people, but asks for their preferred pronouns

Bart’s the closest person to Buck in the Outsiders, being the only person that knows about his true powers as well as the few that knows his birth name

Goes to Bart or Garfield when he has a nightmare at the headquarters

Bruce payed for Buck’s top surgery after S2

Keith is the only straight person in the Shadows

Lily is pan and loves her frogs

Lily really likes frogs and has a small tank for them in her apartment

Hope has one frog gifted to her from her favorite aunt

Cody is the only person allowed to cook in the Manor

Cuddle piles when the enter family is together at their secret hideout

Cody is the only one that owns an actual house and they use the basement as their “hideout”

Lots of “Are the Straights Okay?” moments when the group is people watching during stakeouts

Grace being a flirt to everyone

Hope knowing every curse word at age 9 because her sister can’t shut up

Lots of scolding because of profanity

Faith smacking people upside the head

Cody is Buck’s go to when he’s feeling dysphoria when he’s with the fam

Family nights every friday cause none of them got the most normal lives (Faith lost her parents young as did Cody, Grace wasn’t accepted by her family and lost her parents before even turning 20, Hope only had her parents for 8 years, Lily never had a father and her mother is a thief, Buck lost his mother young and left his father before age 13, and Keith lived mostly alone with a constantly working father. Plus they’re all heroes so I mean none of them are remotely normal)

Cody entered the Shadefam after S3 and doesn’t know that he was previously working with Jason for a period of time

Very confused brother reunion when Cody and Jason meet again

The pair of them both worked for Ra’s a Ghul at the same time in the S3

Lily gives Buck a frog plush that he holds after nightmares at the headquarters

Faith does daily calls to her children

Faith was raised by Bruce, how could she not take in a small child that looks like a mini her

Faith being a mom to everyone, even her brother at times

Faith: “Cody… why are you not wearing any socks?”

Cody: “Why would I be wearing socks?”

Faith: “Because the floor is freezing! Now go put on some damn socks so you don’t get a cold!”

Cody: “But-”

Faith: “Do not try me Cody North Miers.”

Cody: “Damn… the middle name.”

Cody trying to keep Lily and Grace from getting killed on the field

Faith trying to keep Lily and Grace from getting killed off the field

Faith moves in with Keith after her amputation because he has a first floor apartment and she can’t do stairs yet

Keith finds out about MJ and Faith finds out about Hunter after he sneaks back in from a patrol before the accident

Grace and Lily are chaotic a hell, pushing themselves as far as they can during training and mission

They are the two that get hurt the most often

Though Faith always has the worst injuries cause she’s a mama bear that will leap in front of her children

Cody will get pretty severe ones as well when he jumps in front of Faith

Cody: “Why the fuck do you keep jumping in front of them?!”

Faith: “I am mama bear bitch!”

Cody: “Well stop being mama bear cause you’re going to get yourself killed one day.”

Faith: “I can’t die bitch!”

Cody and Faith being responsible adults and the most mature of the group, to being bickering siblings at each other's throats

It always ends up shocking the rest of the fam as well as the Team and the Batfam

Cody: “Can you grab me a pop?”

Faith: “The hell is a pop?”

Cody: “You know a Coke or Sprite.”

Faith: “You mean a soda?”

Cody: “Yeah a pop.”

Faith: “It’s soda!”

Cody: “Pop!”

Faith: “SODA!”

Cody: “POP!”

Halo: “Are they fighting over what to call a drink?”

Buck: “Yeah…”

The Shadefam is sort of a faction of the Batfam

Buck ships Bartuardo and got Hope to agree with him after she jumped ship from Bluepulse

Bruce is lowkey protective of Buck (he loves his grandson)

Buck is Alfred’s favorite of the Shadefam children

Cody and Faith are his favorites of the adults

Faith insists they eat dinner at the table together before leaving early to go invent

Grace and Faith have coffee addictions

Hope is not allowed near caffeine, neither is Buck

Lily shows up at Grace’s and Faith’s separate apartments randomly

Faith was the shoulder Lily cried in after Jason death

Bruce accidentally introduced Buck as his grandson to a board of people when he stopped by Wayne Enterprise

Bruce: “This is Buck, my grandson. He’ll be sitting in today because his mother is busy.”

The news outlets had a field day trying to figure out which Wayne kid was his parents and the person that they knocked up or got knocked up by. Many settled on Faith getting knocked up by some random guy before realizing the math didn’t work.

One outlet found out that Buck was born female and called him a “she” in their coverage of it.

Bruce lost it.

Bruce: “I read your coverage of my grandson. I would like to kindly ask you to pull that story.”

Reporter: “But Wayne sir.”

Bruce: “You misgendered my grandson. So either print an apology or I will be suing.”

Bruce does not stand for misgendering

Keith and Faith child’s godmothers are Grace and Joana

Hope and Buck are practically their child’s older siblings

Lily is the child’s favorite auntie

Keith leaves after their child’s birth

Keith: “Someone needs to be here in case something happens to you.”

Faith: “Nothing’s going to happen to me, Love.”

Keith: “Can you guarantee that?”

Faith: “...”

Keith: “That’s what I thought.”

Faith: “I’m not leaving.”

Keith: “I know. And I don’t blame you. You were built for the hero’s life. I wasn’t.”

Faith: “I swear I’ll be careful. For you and for them.”

Both Hope and Buck move to the Outsiders and later Buck leads the Team, leaving the Shadows.

Faith: “The Team? Buck that’s great!”

Buck: “I thought you’d be a bit more… I don’t know feeling the mode about this.”

Faith: “Why? Cause my little hodgepodge of a team is losing a member?”

Buck: “Well yeah.”

Faith: “Buck. The Shadows were just a covert team for the East. Plus it’s not like I’m really losing you. You are my son after all.”

Buck: “I know. And I’ll never forget that… Mom.”

Lily moved in with Jason and the two of them focused more on Gotham, Lily becoming a true Bat.

Lily: “So I guess I’m a Bat now.”

Faith: “Yup.”

Lily: “No longer a Shade.”

Faith: “The Shades were created by a Bat and consisted of like four current Bat members. The Shades are like a stepping stone.”

Lily: “I guess. I’m still gonna miss family nights.”

Faith: “The Shadows might be decreasing in numbers, but that doesn’t mean we’re ending Shade family nights. Bring along Jason, I’m sure he’ll have a ton of fun.”

Lily: “Yeah surrounded by youngins! He’ll be ecstatic!”

Faith: “Well he does need to prepare.”

Lily: “How the fuck did you know!”

Faith: “Wait, what!”

And that’s how Faith learned Lily was pregnant

Grace leaves the hero world once she and Joana get married and she becomes a criminal prosecutor, sealing the fate of the Shadows

Faith: “So you’re giving it up then?”

Grace: “The hero's life is great and every Faith, but.”

Faith: “I know. It’s a lot.”

Grace: “I mean I never wanted to be a hero, I just wanted to put the bad guys away. That’s what I’m doing now. Plus Joana always frets over me after a mission, even if nothing bad happened.”

Faith: “That’s pretty reasonable. Keith tends to exaggerate the smallest cuts.”

Grace: “So you’re not upset that you’re losing another member?”

Faith: “The Shadows were just a covert team for smaller crimes. I always have my back up with the League.”

Grace: “So the Shadows are done now?”

Faith: “For the time being.”

Cody never left the team, but with only two members it became more of a partnership. They continued to work together, with them assisting the League, Team, and Bats whenever they were needed

Even after the team breaks up, they all gather up once a month and hang out for board games, movies, or a patrol around the city for old times sake.

The older members (Faith, Grace, and Keith) do a lot of reminiscing while the “kids” (Buck, Lily, and Hope) just goan and roll their eyes as Cody listens to the tales of his sister and her friends

Lily and Jason never planned on having any biological children, but they did plan on taking in a street kid. They ended up with one biological child and one street kid

Cody becomes the next Bruce Wayne, training and taking in kids that need a good home

Grace and Joana have three kids, two of which have Grace’s abilities

The entire Shade family is always invited to Bat family reunions. Damian was very confused by the massive amount of people that showed up after Bruce told him he only had a “few” siblings.

Damian: “Eight is not a few Father.”

Bruce: “You have seven siblings Damian. Buck is your nephew.”

Damian: “He’s nearly 16 years older than me.”

Bruce: “Yes but he’s Faith’s son.”

Damian: “Reigns is only seven years younger than Miers.”

Bruce: “He still calls her mom correct?”

Damian: “Yes.”

Bruce: “And he calls me Grandpa?”

Damian: “Yes.”

Bruce: “Then he is your nephew.”

Damian: “But Kyle also calls her mom.”

Bruce: “Your sister does it as a joke to annoy your oldest sister.”

Damian: “Kyle is the only blood sibling I have here. Why must I consider the rest of these people siblings?”

Bruce: “Because they are.”

Damian: “Well… seven is still not a small amount of people.”

Bruce: “With the amount of people here, seven is a few.”

Cody is a light sleeper, waking at the slightest sounds

Grace sleeps like the dead, freezing water and banging pots are the only thing that wake her

Keith can sleep through stuff if he’s in a deep sleep, but also wakes to small shifts in the bed when Faith has a nightmare

Faith is another light sleeper, though not as light as her brother

Lily can and will sleep through anything that doesn’t sound threatening, aka wakes only to gunshots and the scrapping of a blade in its sheath

Buck is a deep sleeper, though often wakes to nightmares

Hope sleeps a lot like her sister, though she’s easier to wake up

When Cody wakes up, he’s up. If he’s woken up, a perimeter check is needed before he goes to sleep. If he wakes up on his own, he still does a perimeter check before going about his day

Grace doesn’t fully wake up until she’s had her eggs and instant caramel coffee

Keith rises with the sun full of energy after seeing Faith sleeping beside him

Faith wakes up tired and a little sluggish, needing black coffee to really wake up in the morning

Lily lives in a permanent state of sluggishness during daylight hours, she draws her power through the moon

Buck is always a bit tired, with usual bursts of random energy

Hope wakes with the sun cause she herself is a ray of sun

Faith & Keith child

Valarie (biological)

Cody’s children

Westly (adopted)

Conner (adopted)

Grace & Joana’ children

Derek (Grace’s biological)

Sophie (Grace’s biological)

Adrian (adopted)

Jason & Lily’s children

Charlie (street kid)

Jaden (biological)

Faith, Hope, and Grace are called the holy trinity as a joke

How Lily and Jason act

PDA constantly, it’s not huge things but it’s very clear that they are together

Nightmare comfort

Got together after Jason came back from the dead, working together as Red Hood and Scarlet Falcon

Were rivals of sorts before his death when Lily was still Misfortune. They fought a lot as Robin and Misfortune, though Faith refuses to let Jason take her in

Lily runs cold so she often wears Jason’s jacket

Faith gave both Lily and Jason the “if you hurt my sibling” lecture. Jason was terrified by it, while Lily shrugged it off

Faith: “You hurt my baby brother, I will hurt you tenfold. I will get a crowbar.”

Lily: “Reasonable.”

Faith: “If you hurt my baby sister, I will hurt you tenfold. I will get a crowbar.”

Jason: “Okay ma’am.”

Buck isn’t a meta but cursed

Hope gets killed in 2023 during the first mission that the team gets together after 2020

Shadefam split by 2020, with Keith, Hope, & Buck leaving in 2018, Grace leaving in 2019, and Lily leaving in 2020 with Faith moving from High Hills in 2019

Keith and Faith move after S3 in 2019 to Star City to man the Wayne Enterprise in the West and raise Valerie in a less crime-ridden area

Cody takes over protecting High Hills, taking on two wards

Grace and Joana move to a smaller town outside of New York so Grace couldn’t be dragged back into the Life

Lily lives with Jason in Gotham

Cody was almost taken by the Court of Owls to become a Talon (their mother’s death was a result of the Court) saved by the League of Shadows instead

Valerie

Metahuman with the True Sight ability

Born 2018

Year younger than Damian

Joins the Team as Seer

Connor

Eldest of the Shade children

Born 2014

Joins the family when he's seven

Loves musical theatre

Doesn’t do fieldwork and works as the man behind the screen for his brother and father

Westly

Second eldest of the Shade children

Born 2016

Joins the family when he's six

Works on the field with his father (Bullseye)

Mathlete

Derek & Sophie

Twins

Born 2019

Sophie is a shadow bender (Yin)

Derek is a light bender (Yang)

Both join the Life (much to Joana dismay)

Adrian

Same age as the “twins”

Born 2019

Doesn’t join the Life

Works with their mom (Joana) in the family jeweler shop

Charlie

Equal eldest Shade child (though entered the family far later than Conner)

Born 2014

Joins the family when he's nine

Doesn’t join the Life and studies pre-med to fix up his family

Jaden

(2020)

Joins the Life

When People Call Faith “Mom”

Cody, Grace, Dick, and Jason call her Mom as a joke or when she’s being to much of a mama bear

Grace: “Alright. Alright Mom. We’ll stop.”

Faith: “Don’t call me Mom Grace.”

Dick: “Alright… Mama Bear.”

Faith: “I will kill you Dick.”

Jason: “Oh don’t kill him Mum, he’s a good big brother.”

Faith: “-Jay.”

Cody: “Relax Mother. They’re just playing with you.”

Faith: “CODY!”

Lily does it as a joke most of the time, though often accidentally does it

Lily: “Jeez let up Faith I’m fine.”

Faith: “Fine? Lily, you nearly bled out an hour ago.”

Lily: “Yeah an hour a ago.”

Faith: “Sit the fuck back down you asshole.”

Lily: “Okay.”

Faith: “What were you thinking Lily? You could have been killed. You could have gotten Buck killed.”

Lily: “You quoting Lion King now?”

Faith: “Lily.”

Lily: “Sorry.”

Faith: “What were you planning, Lily? What if we couldn’t have gotten to you in time? What if Buck was in your place? What if we lost you?”

Lily: “I’m- I’m sorry Mom.”

Faith: “I know you- Did you just call me Mom?”

Lily: “Aaaa- no?”

Hope never means to call Faith Mom, but it does just kind of happen

Faith: “Time to get up, Hope. You got school in thirty minutes.”

Hope: “Mmmm.”

Faith: “Come on Hope.”

Hope: “I don’t wanna go Mom.”

Faith: “It’s only for seven hours, Hope.”

Hope: “Mmm. Fine.”

Faith: “Good. Be ready in ten please.”

Hope: “Alright M- Faith. I meant Faith… not Mom.”

Buck calls her Mom the most (besides her own daughter)

Faith: “Have fun sweety.”

Buck: “I will Mom.”

Faith: “You know I’m not old enough to be your mother.”

Buck: “I know Mom. And you know I don’t care.”

faith: “And neither do I in all honesty.”

Tim accidentally called her mom once, which her reflect response was “I’m too young to be your mother”

Faith: “Tim? What are you still doing up?”

Tim: “Working.”

Faith: “For how long?”

Tim: “... I’m on hour… 56?”

Faith: “Go to bed Tim.”

Tim: “But I just need 10 more hours to finish.”

Faith: “Nope. You’re going to bed.”

Tim: “Hey! Put me down!”

Faith: “No. Tim you are a growing boy who needs to sleep.”

Tim: “But I have to-”

Faith: “Sleep! You have to sleep.”

Tim: “Put me down Faith.”

Faith: “Alright.”

Tim: “No I’m not going to bed.”

Faith: “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Tim: “I don’t need you to tuck me in Faith. I’m a grown man.”

Faith: “You’re a seventeen-year-old boy, not a grown man. Now go to bed.”

Tim: “Mmm. Fine. Good night Mom.”

Faith: “I’m too young to be your mother.”

Tim: “...”

Faith: “Good night Timmy.”

Damian also did it by accident once (Jason never let him live it down)

Faith: “I’m fine guys. Just a bit banged up.”

Jason: “Just a bit?”

Dick: “Faith you were held captive for nearly three weeks.”

Tim: “We stayed up endless nights to get you back.”

Lily: “We got to you to find you with a punctured lung and a broken arm.”

Faith: “Yes. But I’m fine now.”

Bruce: “You’re off patrol for the next three weeks and I’ll make sure you get a week off from work.”

Faith: “I don’t need that Bruce. I’ll be fine going back to work and I doubt three weeks probation is needed.”

Damian: “You nearly died Mother!”

Everyone: “Mother?”

Faith: “...”

Tim: “Did you just call Faith Mother?”

Dick: “Well it certainly wasn’t a joke.”

Jason: “I think the demon needs a mommy figure.”

Damian: “Shut up Todd!”

Jason: “Demon misses his mommy!”

Damian: “I said SHUT UP!”

Faith: “Enough! Both of you! Damian get off your brother! Jason stop teasing your brother.”

Damian: “...”

Faith: “Thank you. Now. Damian I’m fine. I’ve been through far worse.”

Lily: “No you haven’t.”

Faith: “You do remember that I got into a car accident where I lost my leg, right?”

Lily: “... Right.”

Faith: “Now I’m going to go watch a movie cause I’ve been stuck in a wooden chair for a few weeks and I have a strange urge to watch Ratatouille.”

And that's it for now. I might make another post about these guys, maybe I won't, depends if people like this.

#Shadefam #my ocs stuff #young justice #young justice outsiders #DC #DC OCs #original characters #superfamily

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quillfeather21 · 3 years

Text

Mha AU Idea

Anastasia, but make it MHA Fantasy AU

Okay, before you all delete me, consider this-

The Fantasy AU Bakugou’s home is invaded when he’s very young. Kirishima, a couple of years older and works in the castle kitchen, helps him and Inko, the duchess, escape. Inko loses Bakugou in the chaos, and Bakugou is left alone at the coach station.

Years pass, and Bakugou is kicked out of the orphanage he found himself in. Still a sarcastic asshole, he walks, hoping to find work, until he finds himself at the abandoned castle he once lived in. Since he’s a curious little shit, he wanders around, finding the keepsakes he once adored. He picks up a vase and exclaims that “its fucking chipped! It’s damn worthless now!” (Little did he know he had chipped it as a child, playing with Izuku)

But it all feels too familiar. Too close to him to be coincidental. Sings “Once Upon a December”, remembering how soft his Auntie had been, and how much he misses her.

Meanwhile, Kirishima, now an adult with his accomplice Shoto- sneak in to steal some stuff from the castle. Turns out, Inko is still alive! And she’s looking for her adoptive nephew in a city far from where they currently are. She believes he’s still alive, yet Kirishima and Shoto are unsure IF Bakugou is still alive. So they’re stealing stuff to try and find a keepsake that would convince Inko that some random person is Bakugou.

So they find Bakugou in the castle, staring at a painting of him and his parents trying to figure out why the fuck he looks so much like these people. He’s never seen them before.

Shoto and Kirishima find him, and they scream. Bakugou yells, scared out of his pants about suddenly being seen because he thought he was ALONE DAMN IT!

Shoto, stopping his screaming: Wait- that’s a painting of the lost prince! This guy looks EXACTLY like him! We wouldn’t even have to get a wig!!

Kirishima: no. Hell no. We are not using this blond twink to get money.

Bakugou: I AIN’T NO TWINK ASSHOLE- (offended Bakugou noises)

So, Bakugou is convinced that he’d get some answers if he joins Shoto and Kirishima on their little scam way. They travel…

Enter on stage left Shigaraki. He’s WHOLLY pissed that the blond brat he tried to kill ended up ALIVE, and so he sends the league to hunt Bakugou down. Because why… he holds a grudge for not being able to take the throne. Dabi is just in it for the money, Toga likes to stab people, and Twice… no one is sure why Twice is with the villains.

Meanwhile, Shoto is having the time of his LIFE watching KiriBaku happen before his eyes. Kirishima is SO ANNOYED by this blond asshole, and Bakugou LOVES to annoy him. Shoto keeps tallies of who wins the arguments (so far Bakugou wins most of them).

Shoto also tells Bakugou Kiri’s story, because Bakugou wants to know what’s his deal.

“Kirishima is a good friend, but he carries sadness. He never got to find out what happened to the prince. It haunts him, I think. That he feels responsible.”

“That’s bullshit! He saved the prince! If I was the prince, I’d be thanking him! He’s the reason the duchess is alive, that the prince might be alive!”

Shoto: *knowing smile*

They get to the city with little trouble, minus Dabi trying to lure Bakugou in to BURN him. Toga tried to, but she was too girly so Bakugou said “naw fam.”

They meet Izuku, the son of the duchess. He chastised them for trying to trick his mother, but he takes one look at Bakugou and goes “Hmm, very convincing. You answer my questions, then you meet the duchess.”

Shoto and Kirishima had DRILLED the questions into Bakugou. He knew the answers. Until the last one.

“How did you escape?”

Kirishima PALES. HE KNOWS how they escaped, but he never told a soul. Bakugou answers flawlessly.

“There was a kitchen boy, he opened a door the servants used and we crawled out. I got separated from the duchess and I ended up in the orphanage. I stayed there until I got too old.”

Izuku knew the story, his mother had told him hundreds of times about the dark tunnel and the little servant boy’s smile as they had run across the castle grounds towards freedom. This boy’s story matched it detail for detail.

Izuku instantly starts crying. His cousin is home, why wouldn’t he be crying?

But Inko doesn’t want to see Bakugou. She’s tried of being tricked and fooled. She’s sure he’s a lovely boy but she doesn’t want to see him.

Shoto and Kirishima: BUT HES THE REAL DEAL!!

During all of this, Shigaraki’s fed up with his incompetent lackeys, and so he takes it upon himself to finish what he started (way to take responsibility, man). Shoto, Kiri, Izuku, and Bakugou all had gone to see a play and hopefully meet the duchess- who Kirishima was trying to convince to even LOOK at Bakugou.

Bakugou finds out Kirishima and Shoto lied to him. They weren’t his friends. They had just wanted to scam a innocent lady into thinking he was someone he supposedly WASN’T.

Bakugou bitch slaps Kirishima, who tries to apologize. Shoto tried to get everything under control, but he ends up hijacking a carriage with Kirishima to take Inko back to her place. Bakugou was already there, grabbing his belongings and hopefully hitting the road before anyone stopped him.

Inko walks in to see him staring at some drawings. A little boy holding a woman’s hand. She sighs, leaning against the table.

“Someone I loved gave me those, a long time ago. They tricked us both, didn’t they?”

Bakugou agrees, angry with Kirishima. He sniffs, before stopping.

“Peppermint?”

“Peppermint oil, for my hand. It helps the ache. I broke my wrist when I was younger, it never healed right.”

“I… we were in the parlor, you asked me to grab your peppermint oil. I- I spilled the entire fucking bottle! When you and Izuku would go away, I’d lay on that rug and wish you were back! Because it smelled like peppermint- like… like you!”

Inko is shocked. No one knew about the peppermint rug. Only her and Katsuki. It was their secret. She hugs Bakugou, who hugs her back and calls her auntie.

She smiles and opens a box. In it is a crown. She puts it on his head.

“As handsome as your father, and with your mother’s hell raising smile.”

Meanwhile as this fluff happens, Shigaraki is fucking shit up outside. Shoto and Izuku fighting Nomu side by side, Izuku kisses Shoto before turning around and DECAPITATING a Nomu with his sword.

“TAKE THAT!”

Shoto: oh god he could kill me in an instant. I’m in love.

Kirishima and Bakugou fuck up Shigaraki’s night the second Bakugou joins in.

Kirishima: *gets hit*

Bakugou: DON’T TOUCH HIM YOU CRUSTY FACED BASTARD!! (Swings at Shigaraki)

Shigaraki: why not? Do you love him or something?

Bakugou: YES! NOW DIE!

Kirishima: wait- you love me?

Bakugou: I DON’T KNOW I’M STILL MAD AT YOU!

They defeat Shigaraki and the Nomu, and Bakugou takes his place as the Dragon King.

Kirishima is happy as his King, Izuku and Shoto have a nice Dukedom going on (Izuku is a duke in the story as a son of a duchess), and Inko?

She’s just happy her family is whole again.

#bakugou katsuki #mha #mha au idea #anastasia #Bakugou singing? chef’s kiss #Shoto and Kiri are chaotic disasters in this #think Tulio and Miguel levels of bullshittery

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okay-j-hannah · 4 years

Text

Damien Haas Masterlist

Damien Haas 💙💜

Buy Me a Coffee?

Multishot

Fight or Flight: It’s normally some of the most important decisions that cause that instinctual fight or flight response, and when it comes to deciding if you’re in love or not… do you fight for it? Or fly from it?

Yes or No: Going along with the plan, you and Damien pretend to be a couple for the evening - soon finding it difficult not to wish it a permanent arrangement

No Heartbeat: The love a parent has for their child is unimaginable; something that’s profound even if you haven’t met the baby yet… something that lingers even if you never do

The Trimester Race: Have you ever wanted something so bad that it physically pains you that it’s not there? Can you imagine the feeling once it finally is?

Fingers Around My Thumb: They say there are few milestones that a person can experience in their lifetime that stay with them forever... I do believe this will be one of those days.

Friendship Test: The balance of your friendship doesn’t depend on whether Damien’s cats like you or not, right?

Relationship Test: Damien wanted to add another girl into his life, making it the geese and you, but whether you would agree to that was an entirely different question

Synonyms For Home: At one point you’re going to have to stop running away from every potential relationship; there’s more to life than just stressing about it

Homeward Bound: It is incredibly evident that Damien can’t take his eyes off of you while he does his stream with Shayne, but after being sent out for being a distraction, you watch on your phone as a few blushes and giggles are pointed out by the fans

Like An Old Married Couple: The amount of bickering that happens between you two every morning is incredible, especially at how flustered it gets Damien

We Have To End Up Together: The pressure to do something about this crush has got Damien more distraught than ever, possibly invoking the sincere side of you

Fic

A Valentine’s Day Reveal: Damien’s first Winter Games was proving to be much steamier despite the cold, a possible Valentine’s Day game springing up the first recorded kiss with his girlfriend

Any Objections?: Taking the teasing one step further, Damien demands a Smosh and Order on the grounds of possible minor cheating, solely to see your reaction

Been Engaged: It’s Real Girlfriend vs Work Boyfriend as Damien sits in the hot seat with the biggest bombshell question to make any viewer instantly quake in their seats

The Cute One: Guest starring on Smosh Pit was every bit as fun as you hoped, maybe even a little romantic as a certain Damien Haas flirted during the entire game

The Vague Truth: You’re practically one of the fam as you visit your brother Wes and his friends on filming sets - subconsciously developing a flirty relationship with one Damien Haas

Then The Butterflies: You’ve never had much luck with the guys, never honestly being in love and, at this point, maybe not even knowing what having feelings is - Damien volunteers to teach you what loving someone is like, unknowingly revealing his biggest secret towards you

My Sweet: Normally it’s the sweet and simple things that make you happy - a kind of happy that makes it all worth it in the end

Just a Dream (AU!SIREN READER): Doomed with separate lives, but dreaming of something similar, you save an intriguing sailor from a Siren feeding frenzy - knowing the consequences of being caught to be dire

Prompt

Desperate Wingman: Damien is distraught and talking to Shayne about the date you just landed; but being fed up with the constant talk about the crush, Shayne delivers the ultimate endgame scenario

Exposed: Keeping your relationship a secret has been incredibly taxing while filming, so when a kiss is accidentally filmed and sent to editing, do you run to delete the content or release it for the fandom to see?

The Badass Fever: Being married meant in sickness and in health - even for the stubborn, feverish, professional gameplay hitman of a wife Damien’s got

The Sick Front: Sicky boy Damien is too busy avoiding being a burden that he almost misses an opportunity to get closer to you - luckily the SG members are a bunch of hard-hitting homies

Under the Influence: Why did it have to be that the one time Damien decides to kiss you he ends up being drunk?

Unconscious and Uncoordinated: Have you ever heard the term ‘I’ve fallen for you’? Well, sometimes it’s quite literally!

My Life is a Mess Without You: Damien just didn’t get it - what could he have done that would make you ignore him for so long?

Stains and Sleepovers: Frustrated that you’d scare Damien away with making a forward move, you end up getting into a drunken fit at a bar, enlisting the help of just the boy you wanted to see

Took My Breath Away: You are determined to use your sarcasm to keep everyone away, but something life altering about an accident and this boy Damien decides to change your plans

A Doomsday Date (AU!APOCALYPSE): Your home destroyed and many of your friends gone, the one thing that keeps you smiling in this desolation is dating the man of your dreams - and looking good while doing it

Drabble

First Time For Everything: Drinking games have the funny knack for revealing some sensitive information

Game. Set.: Voicing a wish to pick up dating again, Damien unknowingly presented Shayne with the task of smoothly setting his friend up on a date

Twitch Secrets: Twitch streams were made for content creators and fans - but who knew it could also secretly record blackmail?

College Blues: New job, new city, still in college - you find comfort in your role models at Smosh, confiding in and teaming with Damien to relieve stress

#damien haas x reader #damien haas #damien haas imagine #damien haas fluff #damien #damien haas x you #damien haas x shy reader #damien haas x y/n #damien haas x #Smosh Pit #smosh games #smosh games damien haas #smosh games damien #smosh fandom #smosh #smosh au #smosh x reader #damien haas x platonic reader

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

Text

Fragmentation 0.2 - PJM

Plot: How does one measure freedom? Are our choices truly our own, or are they part of a preset design outside of our control? We all have a question burning inside of us, though few speak it out. It is the question that drives us forward, seeking purpose in our lives. What is The Matrix?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Pairing: N/A

Warnings: Strong language, allusions to suicide, extreme angst, graphic violence

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 3,068

AN: Alright guys, get ready for these to hit the timeline back to back! I hope you’re ready! I thoroughly enjoyed writing these and yes, because it’s The Matrix, we are going to get dark in this piece. As I stated before, all information in the universe can be found on the official Matrix Wiki so please use that as a reference guide if you ever get confused!

Tag List: @aroseforyoongi��, @prisczero, @pinkpjmin, @btsaudge, @flowerwrites06, @unoriginal-username15432

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

“Jimin! Aren’t you coming?”

Jimin casually glanced over his shoulder, readjusting the strap to his backpack in a more comfortable position. A few of his classmates waved to him, urging him to come along. They were finished with their studies for the day and didn’t have any after school activities that required their attention. Normally, they would head to the arcade to mindlessly spend the quarters weighing their pockets down.

He smiled, shaking his head and waving back at them. “No, you guys go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His friends pouted, canting their heads slightly before shrugging. They laughed as they turned to head down the street, all of them declaring loudly how they were going to beat the other into submission in a round of Street Fighter.

Sighing, Jimin pushed his way through the crowd to head to the local library. The internet was faster there and he could focus on what he wanted to work on in peace and quiet. Stopping at a vending machine on the way, he bought a few drinks and some snacks to tide him over until he was forced to stop working due to needing sleep.

It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for him at home anyway.

Hopping up the stone steps, he entered through the front door and smiled at the library clerk. She was a pretty woman - at least pretty in terms of being an old lady. Late fifties to early sixties at best, he could guess. Jimin never told her his name, however, but she didn’t mind. She always referred to him as “Young Man” and he answered readily with a smile.

“Research again, Young Man?” she asked, holding out a book for him.

Jimin took the item from her, already knowing that she wanted him to put it back where it was supposed to go. He smiled. “Yes ma’am.” He eyed the cover. “Ching Dynasty in the History section, right?”

The old lady beamed at him. “Correct. You’re such a good lad.”

“I try,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, don’t work too hard. I know you’ve been focusing very hard on your project these last few weeks, but you’re young and shouldn’t strain your eyes so much.”

Jimin bowed his head slightly. “I won’t. Thank you.”

He quickly maneuvered around the library, locating the history section and replaced the book. He always had a knack of finding things and Jimin just knew when things were out of place. His teachers called it a “gift” but he had a feeling that it was something else entirely. He just couldn’t place it. Not yet, at least.

Making his way toward the back of the library, he reached a few taupe colored desks nestled in a small nook in the corner. He threw his backpack on top of the shelf portion, unzipping the top and rifling around inside. He pulled out two mini discs and one floppy disc. Reaching further into the pack, his fingers wrapped around the mini computer and the wires needed to make the device work. He wasted no time booting up the computer, setting up the small computer beside the motherboard and plugging things in.

It only took him a few minutes to go through various checks to make sure that his connection was secure. Then he pulled up a few console windows, his fingers typing swiftly over the keys.

???:

He couldn’t describe the wave of relief that hit him when he saw his chat partner beginning the conversation. Lately Jimin had to be the one to initiate the chat, hoping that he reached them.

Cobra:

Jimin felt a bead of sweat forming on the bridge of his nose. He knew that this could possibly chase them away. But there was a chance that it wouldn’t. And the information his friend gave him was too profound to ignore.

???:

Cobra:

???:

Cobra:

???:

It was now or never. Jimin felt like if he didn’t take advantage of this opportunity now, he would never get another one. His chance to obtain the answers to his questions would slip through his fingers like sand. He wouldn’t be able to recover it fast enough.

Cobra:

???:

Cobra:

???:

Blinking at the screen, Jimin reached under the desk and began patting around the surface beneath. His thumb brushed up against something. Curling his fingers around it, he pulled it free - the distinct sound of velcro separating shockingly loud in the quiet confines of his corner. Jimin inspected it, not sure what to make of the item his friend left for him. It was no bigger than a pack of cigarettes, but the container was made of metal.

When did they prepare this?

Though the more pressing question was how did they know he would be sitting at that particular desk on that particular day?

Just how close was his friend?

Jimin couldn’t stop the cold shiver from snaking up his back. He was nervous, but excited. Something was wrong with him.

Cobra:

???:

He watched his friend go offline, leaving him alone. He could sense that there wasn’t much time. Jimin quickly logged off, turned off the computer and haphazardly threw all of his things into his bag. Stuffing the small metal container into his inner jacket pocket, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and made his way to the entrance of the stairs.

The library building was tall - at least thirty stories. Jimin climbed them all. He wasn’t sure if it was nerves hammering around inside of his chest or the adrenaline of excitement rushing his footsteps, but he didn’t care. After months of secret conversations, he was finally going to learn something. He would release the pressure at the back of his brain, telling him that something was wrong with the world that he lived in.

Bursting through the rooftop access door, Jimin was greeted with a swift burst of cold air. The sun had long since set. He didn’t remember being in the library for very long. Was it already that late?

Jimin sensed a flash of movement from his right, his body reacting faster than his mind could process. Leaning back, he dodged a fist that was aimed for the side of his head. Pivoting on his heels, he spun out of reach just as another fist shot out - hoping to strike true.

“Hey!” he yelled, stumbling back a few paces. “What’s the big idea?!”

Standing in front of him was a man no taller than him - Asian in origin, though he could only guess that he was of Chinese descent based on his clothing choice. He wore an off white changsan, a black fitted shirt underneath, and long wide leg pants. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses - the lenses small and round. His hair was cut short - military-style buzz cut. The man was clearly skilled in martial arts.

Jimin watched him smile and this only caused his irritation to mount further. Hadn’t his friend told him that he could trust the person he was meeting on the roof? Was this all a setup?

The man lowered his stance, placing a palm over one fist and bowing his head. After a few seconds, Jimin bowed his head also, but maintained eye contact with him. The man continued to smile at him.

“You have very good reflexes for one so young,” he complimented.

Jimin shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You move like a cobra.” He lowered his arms down to his sides. “I am Seraph. I will guide you to The Oracle.”

“The Oracle?” Jimin couldn’t hide the confused expression on his face. He’d heard rumors online about someone with that moniker, but he figured it was just some myth circulating through the dark net. “I’m...meeting The Oracle.”

Seraph nodded, fishing into his pocket as he approached the roof access door. “Yes. She has much to discuss with you. But we must hurry.” He pulled out a small ring of keys, sliding one of them into the lock. “We don’t have much time.”

Before Jimin could question Seraph’s sanity, he watched the man open the door. But instead of a set of stairs, he could see a back alley in its place. His lips parted, unable to properly fathom what he’d just seen. The moisture left his mouth and a throbbing pain began drilling into the back of his head. Seraph was instantly at his side, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You have to remain calm. Take a few deep breaths.”

He felt like he was choking. “W-What is going on?”

“Breathe, Cobra. If your mental acuity spikes too much, they will be able to locate us.”

“T-They?”

“We need to go. Now.”

It was painful for him to nod, but Seraph helped him toward the door. Once inside the alley, he watched Seraph closing the door and locking it behind them. The street lights flickered sporadically, serving as a guide through the darkness. If Seraph was speaking to him, which he doubted, he didn’t think he would be able to hear him over the thunder of his own heartbeat.

Jimin didn’t remember seeing Seraph unlocking another door, or the two more after that, but he was jolted to a sudden halt when they stood in front of a bright red door. It looked like the kind of door that belonged to a quaint house in the suburbs. The kind of house a normal, loving family would have attached to their single family home.

Seraph motioned for Jimin to open it, as this door was not locked. Or, at least, he could only assume that it wasn’t since he hadn’t seen Seraph pulling out a key from his key ring. He grabbed for the brass handle and turned the knob, pushing the door open and stepping over the threshold.

There was a sweet aroma hovering in the air, making Jimin’s mouth water instantly. In all of the controlled chaos, he’d forgotten to eat. The soft tones of jazz came from a radio in the kitchen. He followed the sounds and stopped at the entrance.

Standing by the stove was a woman who looked to be in her mid to late fifties. She was a little heavier built, but her curves were defined and lovely in a sweet sort of way. Her back was to him, but through her dark curls he saw strands of gray peppered throughout. Smoke billowed from an ashtray nearby where an abandoned cigarette rested against one of the center notches.

“Um,” he finally managed, taking a step forward, “excuse me?”

“Just a minute,” said the woman, her voice hauntingly familiar, “they’re almost finished. You might want to have a seat.”

Jimin reigned his curiosity back as he watched the woman lean over to pull a tray of cookies out of the oven. Heat rushed through the kitchen from the stove, warming him from the inside out. She set the tray down on the counter, giving the pastries a chance to cool. As she wiped her hands on her apron, she turned to look at Jimin and he immediately lost his balance. He blindly reached for the nearest chair, collapsing into it.

“It...It’s you,” he stammered, looking at the woman he’d come to know as the kind library clerk, “but how?”

The woman smiled, reaching for her cigarette. She took a drag, exhaling smoke from her nostrils. “I told you to have a seat.”

His eyes shook, darting in every direction before landing back on her. None of this made any sense. Jimin’s gaze moved to the floor as he tried to calm his breathing, placing a hand on his chest in an almost vain attempt to settle his rattled nerves. He watched the woman’s shadow move closer to him until she, too, was sitting across from him. When he looked up, the older woman was holding out a plate to him - a single cookie placed in the center.

“Here. I know you’re probably hungry. This will tide you over until dinner is finished.”

He unconsciously took the cookie off the plate, but he was unsure of whether to eat it or not. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust it was safe to eat. He wasn’t sure he would be able to keep it down.

She set a glass of water in front of him. “Now listen to me, Cobra. We don’t have a whole lot of time. I’m sure you’re just as aware of that fact as I am.”

Jimin reached a trembling hand toward the glass. “Are you really The Oracle?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” The Oracle chuckled as she tapped a bit of ash off into the tray. “So many questions and yet I knew that would be the first one you’d ask.”

He drained half the glass in a single gulp. “Something is happening to me.”

“Yes, it is.” She pressed the cigarette to her lips. “It’s been happening for a while now.”

“Are you responsible for it?”

“No, Cobra.” The Oracle blew smoke out of her mouth. “You are.”

“What?”

“Did you bring the package with you?”

Jimin frowned. “If you’re The Oracle, shouldn’t you know that answer already?”

Again, she chuckled. “I do. I’m asking more for your sake than my own. You look ready to pop.”

His fingers moved from the glass and toward his pocket. He pulled out the small metal case and placed it on the table between them. Instead of reaching for it, however, The Oracle gestured toward him.

“Go on. Open it.”

Jimin opened the box, unsure of what he was actually looking at. Inside were what appeared to be two gel caplets. One red, the other blue. A bead of sweat slid down from his temple to his chin, dripping onto the top of his shoe. He slowly lifted his face to look at The Oracle who still had a calm expression painted over her features.

“Like I said earlier, Cobra, we don’t have a lot of time. I can only apologize for taking so long to close the distance between us. If I’d been faster, then we wouldn’t be rushing now.”

“Rushing for what?”

“To give you the answers you so desperately seek.” She crushed the ember of her cigarette out into the tray. “You have a choice to make. Right now. If you still want to know the truth about everything, about why you feel like the world around you doesn’t make sense, or why you feel so isolated in it, then take the red pill and seek the answers out for yourself.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. “How am I supposed to do that alone?”

The Oracle reached out a hand to cup his cheek. Her touch was warm; comforting. It helped relax his already fraying nerves. Her thumb stroked over the corner of his eye, wiping the tear away. “Oh, honey, you won’t be alone.” She looked every bit like a mother comforting a scared child in that instant. “But I won’t lie to you, the truth is going to be hard to swallow. Harder than that pill. You’ll probably hate me after you find out the truth. If you feel you won’t be able to handle any of that, then take the blue pill. You’ll forget all about me and what you’ve seen the very minute you step out that door.”

She removed her hand from his cheek, making him very aware of how cold the world seemed at the absence of her touch. Jimin eyed the pills in the box. What did he have to lose by taking the red pill and finding out the truth? His life here was meaningless - just an endless sequence of purposeless days bleeding into purposeless weeks, meshing into equally purposeless months until years with no purpose marched on.

Plucking the red pill from the foam cushion in the box, he popped it into his mouth without hesitation. He grabbed the glass of water and gulped down what remained, swallowing it.

The Oracle suddenly grabbed Jimin’s hand just as he set the glass back down on the table. “Listen to me very carefully, Cobra. I need you to remember what I tell you when you wake up.”

“W-What do you mean?” Jimin’s vision began to swim momentarily. His auditory senses almost seemed heightened at that moment and he heard several heavy footsteps approaching from the living room.

“You are going to find The One. That is the path that you have chosen for yourself.” The Oracle pressed both of her hands on either side of his face. “Believe in that path. When you discover the truth, you will come to understand the meaning behind my words.”

“Oracle, please,” Jimin managed to choke out, “I don’t understand…”

He saw several shadows circling him and different voices began talking all at once.

“We’ve almost narrowed down his location,” said a man to his right, “we need just a few more seconds.”

Jimin gripped onto the woman’s arms in desperation. “I’m scared!”

“It’s okay to be scared. That’s normal, I promise.” The Oracle pressed a kiss to his forehead and he the distinct smell of cookies and cigarettes filled his nose. “Remember my words, Cobra. Know the path and walk the path you forge for yourself.”

“Got him!”

The world seemed to tunnel vision around him, causing his vision to grow darker by the second.

“Will I see you again?” he said through his tears.

“Yes, Young Man,” she replied with a smile he could barely see, “you will.”

And then everything flickered to black and green, the entire room transforming into strings of code. Jimin let out a scream before darkness completely overtook his sight.

“Welcome to the Real World.”

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serenedash · 5 years

Text

so the kh3 epilogue,

WHO’S READY FOR SOME HOT TAKES CAUSE I’VE JUST BEEN SCREAMING INTO MY SPOILER TWITTER AND I GOTTA LET ALL OF THIS GO FREE

First half is about the epilogue, second half is about secret reports. This is so very long but I’m a passionate man please read me walking through the epilogue and secret reports

People noticed I posted a lot of Luxu art before kh3 because yeah I got spoiled about the epilogue :’) But I didn’t know it was Xigbar I just knew we got to See Luxu’s Face. I was in denial but now I’m not and I’m living for this okay let’s talk about it (this is only Luxu related things, I might make a separate post about what this all means for the union leaders)

I don’t think it’s a mistake that Xigbar made a lot of people think of the Master of Masters; it was super obvious Luxu was very dedicated to following the master like the rest of the foretellers and even after all this time he still is. I wouldn’t doubt at all that Luxu shaped himself after the master and tbh I’ve had this headcanon that Luxu got more cynical as an adult because of his shit role so Xigbar having a more “mean” MoM-like personality isn’t that surprising. Altho in the epilogue Xigbar seems a lot more reserved, like he’s letting the facade down and I think this is probably because he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone else anymore. In his secret reports he talks about how he’s finally done and tbh if I were him I’d also be very tired and ready to be done with it all. Like seriously go back and watch the epilogue he acts pretty different from how we’ve seen Xigbar. Like I didn’t even realize it was him when he was talking before the reveal; he just seems so relaxed around the other foretellers.

I also think Xigbar’s actions make a lot more sense now. He and the master had very different ways to approaching the war-- the master actively set up the war and made it happen while Luxu watched from the sides waiting for one to happen. He says in his reports that he continued to do as the master said (watching) for probably hundreds of years and tbh in a lot of scenes with xigbar he leaves before a fight can start or leaves before a fight can get worse cause I think its just in his nature to just want to stand on the side and not be involved so he can make everything goes as smooth as it can.

Also? Love that he fucking hated Xehanort. Tbh if I was in Luxu’s shoes I would too. Can you imagine watching this batshit old man trying to do this shit with your own keyblade? AND SPEAKING OF THAT I wanna bring up how Xehanort had no problems with threatening Xigbar with No Name. The two times we see this are in BBS when Xehanort holds it at Xigbar’s throat and in DDD when we see RG crew get turned into nobodies. In both scenes Xigbar is looking at No Name which is huge oof because MoM saw that what a bitch right.

Also speaking of DDD, lets talk about that scene more. Cause this entire time Luxu’s been working close to Xehanort to make sure things go smoothly and like imagine you’re doing this and suddenly this crack pot decides to KILL EVERYONE YOU’VE BEEN WORKING WITH TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN!!! Xigbar is all “Xehanort this wasn’t in the plan what’s going on!!!!” Like clearly panicking because god damn it this shit better work I want this to be over with and then suddenly you’re getting your own keyblade shoved in your chest. Super insult to injury.

Still in DDD, let’s talk about the infamous “I’m already half xehanort” line. Personally my first assumption in that scene was like “oh haha get it he has one eye” but like I DONT THINK THATS IT FAM cause in the secret reports Luxu says he’s been body hopping this whole time so like Braig was just Some Guy before literally all of this and Luxu got his heart in there. So really Xigbar is half Xehanort cause he’s already half Luxu; gtfo old man this body’s TAKEN

Okay now I’m gonna talk about secret reports so go read those (I’m just gonna focus on 11-13, not touching The Girl things rn)

So report 11, this is written right after the keyblade war and Luxu talks about the traitor and is incredibly unsure of what’s about to happen because he didn’t hear about this from the master. Report 12, he talks about how he’s handed down his keyblade and must continue on to the final part of his role (whatever that is-- we don’t know rn). The traitor has done the Fuck Up in the plans and Luxu has to cast away his original body to follow them.

Tbh I wonder if MoM told Luxu he had to go body hopping or he decided it on his own. Part of me thinks that because of the uncertainty of the traitor’s actions, Luxu wanted to be able to keep a close eye on his keyblade in case something went wrong/didn’t go right. For awhile I thought that Luxu would pass down his keyblade AND the box together but it seems that he kept the box while his keyblade kept getting passed around.

Report 13, seems like Luxu wants to be nostalgic over all the lives he’s lived since starting his role but can’t dwell on it because he’s so damn close to being done for good, stating Xigbar is going to be his last form. He’s been watching his keyblade from afar for so long and now he’s confidant Xehanort will finish. Luxu’s been so committed to his role the whole time, just watching, and now he says it’s time to intervene and take action. I think this report is written right before BBS so he’s about to swoop in on Xehanort and pretend to like “oh hey whatcha got there old man can I get some of that Thing too?” so that he can ensure once Xehanort is done playing keyblade master, he can get No Name back and finish everything.

Also on Xehanort, in report 12 Luxu states the one to start the next keyblade war is a scapegoat. He knows that he’s using the people who have No Name but its what has to happen. Yeah he hated Xehanort but in the end, he really was just another pawn for Luxu and MoM.

In report 13, Luxu mentions the kh3 keyblade war opening a “true and complete kingdom hearts” which I think is interesting. I was thinking about how Luxu was at the first keyblade war, he saw what happened! Why is he doing this again! But I think what happened is the first war didn’t get the desired outcome MoM was hoping for. At the end of the war, there was no one. No one to claim a x-blade, if it was even formed, to open kingdom hearts. All there was was the hearts of wielder going back to the kingdom hearts full of the hearts of people. There’s different types of kingdom hearts in universe and I think the first war and the one in kh3 summoned different ones and THIS was the one that MoM wanted, whatever tf a “true and complete” kingdom hearts even is but this is about Luxu not that.

OKAY FINAL THING I GOTTA SAY-- Luxu just wants to be done with his role so badly yall he just wants to see his friends again and I’m so emo about all of this.

In reports 12 and 13, he talks about how the foretellers and the master will come back after all this time and he’ll be reunited with them. Something interesting I wanna talk about is the nature of the foretellers appearing at the end. Like they kinda just... Appear out of nothing. No corridor of darkness or lanes between just like suddenly there really. Its starting to seem more and more like the foretellers didn’t die at the war? This entire time they’ve been called “the LOST masters” not the dead masters or whatever. In report 12, Luxu says “the lost masters will awaken” and Ira says to Luxu, “did you summon us?” Like okay where were they that they can just be summoned like that?

Also of note is how Ava isn’t present in the epilogue. Gula thinks that Luxu purposefully left her out but Luxu phrases it in a way that makes it seem like she CHOSE not to come, saying like “I told her what my role was and she made her decisions.” The last time Luxu and Ava saw each other was right before the first war and Ava got pretty mad and attacked him when he told her what was going on.

So my theory about the foretellers fate is that they ended up in The Final World and the fact that Luxu is still around hoping to see them all again is what’s keeping them tethered there and why there were able to be “summoned” back. Ava didn’t want to come back though because I can imagine her still being mad about everything, when you’re dead that doesn’t really give you a big option of moving on yknow.

SO THATS IT FROM ME for now.

TL;DR Luxu has been so dedicated this whole time to MoM and his role even if he’s really tired and is more than ready to just be done. Like lord he just wants to see his friends again!! Now that the war shit is squared away he can drop the act and focus on finishing everything once and for all.

I have other ideas about Things but its all speculation regarding the other secret reports, Brain and Ava yknow how it be maybe I’ll make a separate post about that

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chellyrps · 6 years

Note

DALMATION BABES FOR BREAK IT DOWN

send me a ship and i’ll break them down:

how did they they meet?: oh, you mean that time gabriella nearly set her entire apartment on fire trying to cook breakfast and luckily her neighbor is a firefighter who rescued her dumb ass?

who developed romantic feelings first?: wowow that is a very good question. probably gabriella, because she’s a pretty hopeless romantic and it’s very easy to fall for avery

who is their biggest “shipper?”: 10/10 yoyo !!! but i imagine avery’s moms to both rlly love that they’re together

when did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?: okay definitely happened after one of their first few dates where avery was saying goodnight at her door and “well aren’t you going to kiss me?” probably was said … by gabby, and it was one of those foot popping kisses for sure

who confessed their feelings first?: it casually and easily slipped out of gabby’s mouth one day when they were sitting on the couch late at night with yoyo in her lap just talking and sorta watching some movie on tv RIP

what was their first official date?: they went out to dinner to this cute ass italian place that avery would get takeout from alll the time and he knew the owner aka gabby was very impressed

how do they feel about double dates/group dates?: love it! as much as they like being together when it’s just the two of them, they have fun with their friends and other couples, too. i mean, they’re at someone else’s wedding at least once a month so lmao

what do they do in their down time?: on the off chance they have any lol they’ll binge watch their favorite shows, take yoyo for a long walk, try out some new ice cream or froyo place, lounge in bed

what was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?: since it’s just gabby’s dad that’s still around, he’s very protective of his little girl and probably grillllled avery the first time he met him, but he’d be able to quickly see how good of a guy he is and how happy he makes gabby so :”) gabriella on the other hand was probably so, so nervous to meet avery’s mothers bc she rlly wanted to leave a first good impression on them but wow they probably clicked p soon after their first meeting like, they have a groupchat just the 3 of them so, nuff said

what was their first fight over and how did they get past it?: first big fight was over not seeing each other often enough bc of their busy schedules and it kind of just escalated into not rlly talking to each other for weeks and passing by each other awkwardly in the hallway or elevator or whenever gabby would go over to pup sit and eventually they both owned up to it and “i fucking miss you, i’m sorry.” xoxo gabby

which one is more easily made jealous?: lol i feel like they both can be p jealous

what is their favourite thing to get to eat?: ANYTHING !!! omg gabby may not be able to cook to save her life, but avery sure can, and she’ll try anything he makes her. plus they both love takeout lbh

who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?: 10/10 gabriella is the more cuddly one. the fav position is probably when avery’s the big spoon and gabby can just curl up on her side into him cause she fits so easily

are they hand holders?: definitely, yes

how long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? what’s the circumstances?: an appropriate amount of time i’d say? like a month or so probably? they get close pretty quick and they live across the hall from each other so there aren’t a ton of secrets between them so it’s comfy. it’s probably after some date where they’re a lil tipsy and happy and they’ve been teasing each other all night without explicitly meaning to

who tops?: 10/10 avery

who does the shopping and the cooking?: gabby can shop, that’s for sure, but she can’t cook so it’s avery 100%

which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?: they are both very organized and tidy people, like their apartments are v clean

who proposes?: avery does, and gabriella probably thinks it’s a practical joke at first bc she’s a wedding planner and just assumes he’s teasing her bc of her job BUT UH then he’s pulling out this ring box and it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen and the question pops outta his mouth and gabby’s just standing there like !!!! she says yes.

do they have joined bachelor/bacheloette parties or separate?: separate, i’ve got a feeling the boys down at the fire house and the ladies she works with have some very serious parties that they want to throw them when they aren’t together lmao

who is the best man/maid of honour? any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?: i’ll speak for gabby since idrk for avery, but her maid of honor would be her best friend since middle school since she was her maid of honor and planned her wedding and they’re basically sisters !!! gabby would so, so, so want avery’s moms to be her bridemaids along with a few of her girlfriends from work so she’d ask him if it would be too fcking weird to ask them that …. lmfao

big ceremony or small?: gabby’s a ‘the bigger the better’ type lmao hopefully her husband’s down

do they have a honeymoon? if so, where?: uM YES THEY DO !!! traveling around europe is a 10/10 honeymoon they have, are you kidding me? specifically visiting italy bc they’ve got fam there and it’s a must :”)

do they have children? how many?: o m g yes, they defs do. at least one, maybe even two or three; i guess it would depend on what their lives are looking like since they both have busy schedules but dgd they would make it work to have a family together !! plus they have lil fur babies and there’s just a lot of love between them and love to give so :”)

#!!!!! i love them so much #° ♡ — && otp: slow dancing in a burning room #( answered ms. )

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humanityinahandbag · 6 years

Text

Louie’s Christmas List: Reasonable, Boring, Scarves

@procrastinateland hey there! I’M YOUR SECRET SANTA! TA-DA! I hope you’re having a great Christmas! I tried my best here, but I couldn’t quite figure out the whole “Christmas Party” schtick. Again- too Jewish. But for what this is, I do hope you’ll enjoy!

Some 4.5 k Louie centered fluff/angst to celebrate the end of a glorious holiday!

Enjoy!

Louie’s Christmas list was handed over at exactly 8:39 pm two weeks before Christmas. It’s his single contribution to the holiday so far. Though if you’d asked him, he would have explained that he’d supervised with light hanging and tree trimming, and had been the first to poison test the tree candy canes that looked the most threatening.

Louie liked lists. Lists made sense. It made it easier to make sense of things. Louie didn’t understand people or life or money but lists?

Lists are easy.

“I’m sorry- you want what?”

“It’s a short list.”

“I see that.” Scrooge turned it over in his hand. “Only about three things. Three ridiculous things.”

Louie fluttered a hand over his heart. “You wound me.” And then, rocking back on his heels, he explained solemnly that “if I didn’t think you could handle it, I wouldn’t have given it to you in the first place.”

Uncle Donald had said that once about laundry and regretted it since. Louie had the mind of a steel trap and snapped up anyone that wandered too close in the rhetorics.

Scrooge snorted. He handed the note back. “Absolutely not.”

“It’s three things.”

“You want a personal island,” Scrooge pointed out.

“And a million dollars, and a smaller mansion next to your mansion.”

“Not happening.”

“You have enough to get it!”

“Money is hard earned, not handed over. I wont have you becoming one of those snob nosed heirs. You want these things? Work.”

“I don’t want to work.”

“Then make the list more reasonable,” Scrooge reasons. “I can do reasonable.”

“So half a million dollars then?”

Scrooge pats his head. “Maybe ask for some new marbles.”

Louie pouts the rest of the night.

Making a list more reasonable is not something he’s been well versed in. And so disappointment is often his tune of choice. When he was five, he’d asked his Uncle Donald for a separate boat “for me time” and when he was nine, he’d written a letter to Santa requesting an air lift onto a tropical island to “take some time off from the fam.”

He’d gotten neither of these.

And so he’d sulked during Christmas Dinner while Huey and Dewey were enraptured in exactly what they’d asked for (a toy car and a Junior Woodchucks Badge Collection Binder).

“How can you be so okay with this?” He asks them. “Don’t you want exactly what you want?”

“I don’t want an island.” Dewey nodded along with his eldest.

Louie always wanted an island.

After twelve years of no private island though, he could see how that might be a little… unrealistic.

And so he scratches it out.

Louie’s Christmas List

1. Private Island

And writes in

1. A scarf.

Scarves were reasonable, boring things that reasonable, boring children asked for. And while he wasn’t neither of these, his entire family was stocked with the most reasonable and boring of individuals, who would be sure to find him some sort of a reasonable and boring scarf to pack along with his million dollars and smaller mansion.

The list is returned to him again after their third trip to Egypt. There had been more to excavate, and the lost city they’d since uncovered was in need of advice on managing financials in the real world. So Scrooge had delegated and booked himself as an advisor for a three day expo.

At lunch, he pushes it towards Scrooge.

Huey and Dewey, flanking him on either side and busy shoving their second and third burritos down their throats, watch him with something of avid curiosity.

“Wait?” Dewey swallows. “We’re supposed to give you Christmas lists?” Huey’s eyes go large.

“We’re allowed to do that?”

Scrooge adjusts his glasses, looking over the one in his hand. “If you’d like something, I’d suggest that. Yes.”

“I didn’t think we were getting anything from you!”

“I was expecting marbles.”

Scrooge snorts, but reaches across the picnic table to ruffle both their heads fondly. “You’ll get marbles if you don’t get me a list. And that counts for you too, Webby.” The two boys quickly divulge into plans about what they’ll ask for, Webby squealing all the while along with them (“gosh, me too!”) while Scrooge blinks down at the list in his hand. “No,” he says. “Absolutely not.”

“But I made it more reasonable!”

“You added one reasonable thing.”

“I can still change it to half a million dollars.”

“No.”

“Mr. McDuck-“

“This isn’t a business meeting.”

“Uncle Scrooge, then.”

“Better. But still no.”

“What if we made it a business meeting?” He pat his chest. “I can get a tie. And those stupid foot blankets you wear.”

“Spats,” Scrooge seethed. He handed back the list. “Change it again.”

“Even the scarf?”

“Except the scarf.” His uncle stood. “I’m getting another burrito. Do you want one? Or would you rather have thirty gold pieces with that?” Before his nephew can bite back an answer, Scrooge is already stalking away.

“I think you hurt Uncle Scrooge’s feelings?”

Louie snorts at the middle triplets suggestion and waves him off. They’re sitting in the helicopter, the three of them buckled in and facing the front window. Launchpad cheerily presses buttons and swivels in his chair.

Scrooge is quiet, tapping the end of his cane in a distracted rhythm on the floor.

“Nah,” said Louie. “When you’re that rich you don’t need feelings.”

“That’s just it though.”

“What’s it.”

“That.” Dewey points. “You keep seeing him as money.”

“Because he is money.” Louie doesn’t get it. Don’t they see where they live now? Who they live with?

Webby had been quiet up until then, but she tucks her legs into a criss cross beneath her and leans forward, looking around Huey and Dewey to face the youngest of her three new friends. “I think he just wants you to see him as your Uncle?” When Louie casts the same, confused, patronizing look on her, she shrivels. Never good under pressure, was the newest fourth addition. Still; “Maybe if you asked for things an Uncle would give you, then he’d be happier.”

“But he’s not just an Uncle. He’s our rich Uncle.”

The discussions end when they reach turbulence and Scrooge launches into a lecture on atmospheric pressure. Louie leans on his hand and thinks about reasonable things.

He rewrites the list again.

Louie’s Christmas Demands

1. Scarf 2. Half a million dollars

After another long moment, he scraps the idea of half a million dollars because that only seemed to set Scrooge off more, so he erased that, too, and tried to work with the midst of boring and reasonable.

1. Scarf 2. Another Scarf

Huey reads his list that night and his brow pinches. “You want two scarves?”

“No. I want a mansion next to this mansion.” He taps on the third request. “I’m using the other two things because they’re reasonable and boring. Like you. I channeled you and Webby and Donald and I figured that you’d all ask for scarves. Hence. Scarf.”

“I’m not boring.” It didn’t escape either that the first part of the pair hadn’t been refuted. “And besides, reasonable people don’t only want scarves.”

“Well then what did you ask for.”

“Camping equipment. Dewey asked for a video game. Webby wants cereal? Apparently her granny never let her eat the sugary stuff.”

“Well, I’m asking for a scarf because I know that you all secretly want scarves.”

“Sure.” Said Huey. He tapped the list. “Might want to change number three though.”

“See?” Louie affirms. “Boring.”

His Uncle Donald is absolutely no help, and really only served to make him feel absolute rotten. “You always wanted to meet your family!” Donald folds their shirts and hands him a pile to put away. They’re both in the kids’ room. The laundry basket, set down by the bed, is still warm from the dryer. Louie huddles closer to it. “What about a big family dinner? Or a photo album! Uncle Scrooge has plenty of great things in the attic I’m sure we could put together.”

“I want a private island for these reasons. Why would I want a photo album.” He dumps his clothes on the bed. They unfold. Donald gives him a look.

“Because it’s a good way to remember your history.” He gives another folded shirt to Louie, with a complimentary warning glance. Louie sighs. Shuffles over to his dresser. “Besides- your great Uncle’s looking down about it lately. You have to remember this is his first Christmas with a family and-“

“And shouldn’t that mean that he does everything for us. I mean- he hasn’t exactly been great family material lately. You guys didn’t talk for how long?”

“That’s our issue. Not yours. He wants to get to know you.”

“And I want a private island.” He dumps the shirt it, where it unfolds. Donald growls. “What’s so wrong with me wanting things.”

“It’s not wrong to want things.” Donald stomps over to the dresser and folds the shirt, shoving it far back into the drawer. “It’s wanting things from people who need things from you.”

Louie avoids his Uncle for the rest of the night.

Louie isn’t sure what to do about number three. He could ask for a Jumbotron in his room. Or a speedskater. Or some sort of exotic pet. Like a tiger. Dewey would be so jealous if he wound up with a real, totally-not-fake-green tiger.

He erases it and rewrites it a few times, and whenever he tries to bring it to Scrooge he finds himself backtracking and starting again.

Webby notices. Because Webby always notices. “Are you afraid to hurt his feelings?”

“I told you. He’s rich.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever, but are you afraid to hurt his rich feelings?” He doesn’t say anything. She beams; huge and bright and all Webby, who is basically the sun and the stars and the moon altogether, and makes him want to tell the truth, even as he clamps his mouth shut. She doesn’t know the sun and moon stuff. But she sees his jaw tick and her smile gets wider. “That’s good!” She says. “That’s super good!”

“Why is that good.”

“You care.” He flinches. She realizes what she’s said a moment after and apologizes with a quick “not that I didn’t think you did before-“ but he’s already clutching the list tight in his pocket and looking down.

“No. It’s fine. I get it.”

He was the evil triplet anyway. Why not live up to the name.

He hands his final list to Uncle Scrooge a week before Christmas. Scrooge blinks at it. “You want three scarves?”

Louie shrugs.

Louie’s Private Christmas Events List

1. Webby things he’s heartless 2. Uncle Scrooge thinks he’s a money grubber 3. His brothers probably don’t like him probably for reasonable and boring reasons

Louie isn’t sure how Christmas will work. But he didn’t expect to be woken early in the morning to his Great Uncle shaking him awake. “Come on, lad. Adventure awaits” There were snow clothes passed his way. “Meet us downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

“But Uncle Donald-“

“We’ll be back before he even notices.”

Uncle Donald is not at all pleased with how the day panned out.

They know this, because when they walk through the front door of the mansion, scraped and bruised and still glinting with fresh we-nearly-died glints about them, they’re met with an extension of ire that they’d rarely had the pleasure of seeing. Not since they’d moved in with their grand-uncle, at least. Because the whole nearly dying thing is new for them.

But there’s quite a lot that’s new. Like the missing family holiday’s. Which was subsequently an extension of that newness.

“You missed Christmas!” It’s the first thing they hear when they shuffle their still snowy feet on the rug. Huey is rubbing the back of his head (out of sort of guilt and to ease the throbbing bump he’d gotten down the avalanche) and Dewey is shuffling his feet, trying to make it look like there’s more snow, even when there isn’t, and Webby ducks away to find her grandmother. Louie shoves his hands in his pockets.

Fantastic. First he gives up his million dollar private island and now fights.

“So?” Scrooge hangs up his bag by the door and takes the three kids’, doing the same. “The blasted holiday takes up my time from October till January anyway. I don’t have to give it anymore of my time.”

Donald looks like he wants to yell. What comes out is more like a desperate attempt at usurping the elderly man. They’d climbed the tallest mountain in the world. To Donald, the still unclimbed peak would be his Uncle’s forever growing superiority.

“Uncle Donald?” Dewey tugs on his uncles suit. “We didn’t mean to we swear-“

“You’re taking them to dangerous places, having them come back bruised and missing holidays.” He gestures to Louie. “You’re giving them unrealistic expectations of how things work! Life isn’t a rich paradise!”

“Unrealistic- you’re the one that got them there! Not telling them about me. Now they think I’m just a money dispensing machine!”

Louie feels his throat swell a little.

He wants to pill out his list and say see, scarf, but his Uncles are both on too much of a roll and there’s no stopping it now.

A second avalanche of the day is about to hit.

“I didn’t tell them about you because I was worried this would happen!”

“Maybe worry less! It does nothing for them.”

Seeing that he was quickly losing, Donald shook his head and dragged pitifully back to the place they’d begun. “But they missed Christmas.”

“Auch. Like it’ll hurt the lads to miss one lousy holiday! I had to miss twelve of them. You get to miss one.“

“It’s my holiday.”

“It’s everyone’s Holiday.”

“But this one is mine. I know it’s your house, but these are my kids and-“

“They’re not your kids. They’re Della’s. And if she were still raising them I’m sure they’d of turned out a great deal better and… we share them because they’re not just yours and… and- and-”

Mount Neverest had nothing on the cold that took over that room, then.

Scrooge sees what he’s said a moment after. Processing his words with every and-

(and… and… and…)

His grip tightens on the cane.

Donald opens his mouth. Closes it.

Huey is looking at his Great Uncle with something of horror. Dewey looks ready to cry.

Louie winds his hands together tight in his pockets and his teeth dig against his lip hard enough to push through skin. Something warm springs against his mouth, and he ignores it. His tongue is overtaken by rust.

“Oh.” Says Donald. Then: “… oh.”

Scrooge looks like he wants to say something too. But Scrooge McDuck does not apologize. His cane tapping is all that drags the four others out of their reverie, watching him walk away down through the foyer. Louie looks up and sees Webby at the top of the stairs, hands over her mouth.

He wants to tell her to buzz off. This is their family problems. Not something to put into her stupid stalker notebooks.

But when she looks at him, sunshine gone, all he sees is pity. It makes him feel ill.

He stands there until everyone else is gone.

And then he leaves, too.

Huey doesn’t say anything and neither does Dewey, but he can hear Dewey crying in the bathroom. The middle triplet had always been the emotional one, Louie thinks, because it’s easier to say that than admit that he feels the prickling of tears in his own eyes.

Louie’s Private Christmas Events List

1. Everything and everyone sucked `1a. Including him

Donald is the first to come see him. He’d played it out in his head a few times. Came up with the perfect way he’d push his hands into his pockets and nod and schmooze and trundle himself away.

Instead he ends up falling against his Uncle. Donald smells like laundry soap and the hot spiced wine he’d helped Beakley with that afternoon. Louie inhales. “I’m sorry,” said Louie.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I do.”

“No,” says Donald. “You don’t.”

Louie presses his face flush against buttons. His hands sting. “You were a good parent,” says Louie. “You are a good parent.”

“…”

Louie doesn’t know if he does know, but he can hear his Uncle’s heart stutter so he hopes that he’s made something right in this all. “Do you think Uncle Scrooge hates me?”

“… No.”

“Does he hate you?”

“He’s always hated me.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, Louie.” Donald sounds tired.

“… really?”

“No.” Still tired. But different. “No. Scrooge is just… new. To this.”

“This?”

“Family. Sharing his space. Maybe even bathroom schedules, I don’t know.” Donald must have sensed something (or skillfully changing the subject- something passed on well through the Duck genes) because he reached forward to take his nephews face and pull it back. “Your lip-“

Louie still hadn’t cleaned away where his teeth had dug through, and he licked it self consciously. “It’s nothing.”

“Hmm.” His uncle traced it once. “Let me get bacitracin.”

“I’m fine.”

“Go to the bathroom. I’m getting bacitracin.”

Louie sits on the counter while his Uncle treats a cut like a war wound, and thinks that he got pretty lucky in the parent department.

Scrooge doesn’t come out of his rooms on December 26th.

He does leave his room on the 27th, but only to butter toast.

On the 28th, Louie catches of glimpse of him in the library. His sideburns are a little too puffed out and overgrown. Like a choked garden -all weeds- and he’s without his normal spats and hat. He looks disheveled and cold and distracted, and Louie makes a list in his head of things he understands at that moment.

Things Louie Wants to Say to Uncle Scrooge

On the 29th, Uncle Scrooge comes to Louie.

Louie, to his credit, wasn’t expecting him. He was just waiting to gather up the courage to actually do something when Uncle Scrooge appeared. “Attic,” said Uncle Scrooge.

“What?”

“Meet me in the attic.”

“Uh-“

“You going to dilly dally all day or should I drag you along myself?”

Louie puts down the can of PeP he’d been nursing for the past hour and follows.

The attic is oddly small for such a huge mansion. With sloping towers above, it was hard to try and not bump your head on one of the grooves that arched downwards, and Louie did his best, but still managed to klunk his skull twice on a plank. Scrooge didn’t turn around at the noise. Instead, he led him forward, through the trenches of old newspapers from WW2 and Vietnam and the stacked, dusty frames filled with achievements and awards. Forgotten maybe. Or packed away. Turned from the world.

“Here.” Louie nearly bumped into his Uncle when he stopped abruptly. Tapping a suitcase littered in old stickers twice. “Look.” Scrooge kneeled, and popped it open.

“Oh,” said Louie, once he’d figured out what it was. “… okay.”

The stacks of pictures would have made Webby drool. Della Duck looked up at him from under a layer of dust and through old silverfish bites. His mothers eyes smartly assessing the light she’d been pushed away from. Hello, she seemed to say, when Scrooge picked her up. Been too long, hasn’t it?

“I’m no good at holidays,” says Scrooge, passing his nephew a picture. There was a newspaper clipping pushed in the corner. His first successful excavation. He handed that to Louie, too. The paper felt too fragile under the boys fingers. Like it might turn to ash any moment. “I’m hardly made for families.” He sighs, heavy and shrugs, just as heavy. Just as weighted with what must have been years of practicing this speech. “Some people lose keys? I lose people.”

“I lose everything, too.”

“Not the way I do, boy.” He tapped the newspaper. Handed his nephew another one. “You were right, in a way. I became what I was after for a time. Gold is a losers game. No one wins, really, when there’s too few players. And it was rigged. And I forgot the other pieces were still following me-“

“You’re playing too many board games.”

His Uncle huffed what sounded like a laugh. Then: “there’s a point to this. I promise, there used to be.”

“Was there?”

“Yes.” He sat back. “I think it might be that I’m… that I apologize. To you. For…”

“You don’t know what?”

“There’s a long list. You’re better at lists than I am.” Louie holds down his smile. His fingers tighten around the picture, still in his hands. “I suppose I should apologize to your Uncle at some point. But if you heard anything that made you- I mean- I know I took you away for Christmas-“

Louie nods. “I think Uncle Donald needs an apology more.”

“So do I.” He tapped the picture again. “You can keep that one. I have more.” And he snapped the case shut while Louie tucked his mothers portrait away into his pocket. “Come on.”

On the way down the stairs he does a half turn to say “you know you’re lucky to have your Uncle.”

“I know.”

“He’s a good parent. Smart. Whatever I said-“

“I know.”

“And he’s lucky to have you.”

Louie doesn’t say anything to that one. But he does find the courage to say “we’re lucky to have you,” and then, “I’m sorry, too. You’re not just money.”

“Yes I am.”

They reach the bottom of the stairs. “You’re not.” Louie suddenly very much wants to hug him, but doesn’t. Not yet. “And we are. We all are.”

Scrooge squeezes his shoulder.

“I still need your Christmas list, lad. Unless you’re privy on scarves for the holiday.”

“Scarves are still good. They’re practical.”

“Sure you don’t want that million? I’m feeling generous.”

Louie shakes his head. “Scarves,” he says, and Scrooge winds his arm around his nephew shoulder, tucking him to his side and leading him down to the foyer.

They aren’t there for the apology, but both their uncles are at breakfast, so the storm must have calmed. They knew for sure after Scrooge passed the jam to Donald and Donald laughed at one of Scrooge’s jokes, and the three boys relaxed.

“I wanted to talk to you all about Christmas.” The eldest patriarch of the manor added a second layer of mulberry jam to his toast. “Your Uncle Donald and I thought it best that we do some sort of Christmas tonight.”

“Christmas is over,” Webby licked marmite off her fingers. Huey, sitting next to her, blanched. “It was done a few days ago.”

“Yes, Webbigail, but I’m rich. And I can have another Christmas if I please.” His smile arched into a tease. “That is, if its alright with you?”

She twisted her face up. Thought about it a moment. “Fine,” she conceded primly. “But I get first dibs on the candy canes.”

“Done.”

Louie doesn’t hand his uncle a new list.

He’s oddly alright with it.

A scarf.

That’s what he gets on the morning of the 30th (what they’ve christened apologetic yuletide). It’s been tucked beneath the bows of a sad tree that Launchpad had chosen. One of the last ones, he’d explained. Most of the trees had been reserved weeks before the holiday, and the man selling him the one currently in their custody had been nice enough to check in the warehouse for what remained.

Webby was off most likely shoveling handfuls of Cookie Crisps down her beak, and Dewey and Huey were side by side in a new sleeping bag, choosing which game they’d play first, and arguing over the characters and who’d have dibs (“they’re my games” - “but I’m eldest, yak brain!”) and Louie pulls back the white cardboard top to reveal the beige, wool scarf beneath.

His first thoughts should have been look, a scarf

Instead its: this is going to totally clash with green

Scrooge comes up behind him and touches the fabric. There’s a ghost of a grin on his face- amusement, and sorrow. Regret, too, if Louie looked close enough. “You asked for three scarves.”

“I figured it was more boring and reasonable than an island.” Louie handled the scarf roughly, turning it round. Huh.

“Pah. Private islands are boring. Lonely things without a spit of adventure. No one wants that.”

“I’d want that.”

“No. You don’t.” Scrooge taps the scarf. “This, now this, you want. An adventurers scarf. A real adventurers scarf. And your Uncle has already assured me that more adventures are to come, so I thought I may as well dress you for the occasion.”

“I didn’t climb the last adventure.”

“And now-“ and he lifted one end of the long scarf out, “I have a leash, don’t I?”

Louie snorts. He touches the scarf again. It’s itchy. But it’s warm, and he pulls his hand back when his palms start to sweat. “So what? This worth three scarves or something?”

“Five. Maybe a hundred. Depends who you ask.”

“That good?”

“Finest Peruvian wool there is. Stitched on the mountains of the great summits by monks. I got it years and years ago on my adventure. ‘Fore you were born.”

“So… a hand-me-down?”

“A relic.”

“Got it.” He replaced the lid. “Thanks. I-“ he swallowed. “I do appreciate it.”

“I know.”

Louie sort of wants to hug him again. Even if he did only get him a scarf that totally-absolutely-tragically clashed with his coloring.

But he doesn’t.

Well- he does later. At night. Chasing after Scrooge down the halls before the man can retire to his chamber. He launches through the dark air and clings to his Uncle and holds on tight enough to be a tourniquet. Tight enough to try and stop crying, crying, crying, but there’s no helping it by then, and Scrooge holds him back and says “I know.”

Because he does.

“Thank you-“

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I know.”

“I don’t deserve-“

“Hush,” says Scrooge. “You do.”

“…”

“Say you know, Louie,” says Scrooge. “This is where you say you know you deserve that.”

Louie chokes.

“Louie-“

“I know.”

“Good. This wasn’t boring or reasonable, was it? Not as good as your own mansion but-“

Louie snorts a laugh through his tears and Scrooge presses his face against the top of Louie’s head, and the two of them stand there until the shadows grow thin and long and breathing becomes a part of life again. Everything evaporates with closed doors, and Louie tucks himself in besides his brothers, who are nary aware of the exchange.

Reasons for Louie Hugging Scrooge

1. He’d been wanting to for some time 2. Scrooge looked like he had a stick shoved way up his butt and Louie had heard rumor that hugs sometimes helped with that 3. He’d looked at the picture of his mother again.

3a. He hadn’t noticed her scarf before.

#secret santa #procrastinateland #ENJOY #angst/fluff #just some stuff I made #enjoy!#❤️😘😘#ducktales

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